A Time for Secrets

A Time for Secrets by marshall thornton Page B

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Authors: marshall thornton
Tags: General Fiction
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truly feel that he would do anything for me. We can’t truly be together; I know that. Not in this world. But still a girl can dream.
    I wondered who SR was and if he might have anything to do with the two recent murders. Then it hit me, the answer to that was probably on April 22. That was the date Ronald had given me. It also seemed to be around the time Vernon left Chicago for Los Angeles. I flipped forward and found that there was no entry for that date. There was one for the twenty-first, but then there wasn’t another entry until May 15. Ronald had told me a lie when he recited his entry from April 22, but, like good liars everywhere, he’d incorporated part of truth. For instance, he did keep a journal. So, why did he lie like that? I kept reading to see if I could find out.
    On May 15, he wrote:
    It has been weeks and I’m barely able to think about what happened, no less write it down. Still, I feel like I have to. Someone has to know, even if it’s only the silent pages of this journal.
    April 22 was SR’s second wedding anniversary to Vee, and he’d decided to throw a little soiree at The Lair. I’d been excited about it all week. It was quite the lark, of course. Vee was celebrating elsewhere with her own friends. They had that kind of marriage—so I wasn’t the least bit jealous. In fact, I quite like Vee. She’s a real sport.
    We were just a bunch of middle-aged boys having a little fun. I don’t see what’s so wrong with that, really I don’t. B was there, so was L and S and V. A fun little group of six. CC had reserved us a table in the back area so we wouldn’t have to bother with the riff-raff that wandered in on a Wednesday night. It was almost like a private party.
    Already I was confused. Were Vee and V the same person? They couldn’t be. Vee wasn’t there, and V was part of the party. Which of them was Vernon? I wondered. Was Vee a real woman who had actually been married to SR? She must have been. If Vee was a man, Ronald would have been jealous. I assumed that SR was involved in a marriage of convenience.
    It was about eleven-thirty, I think. We had just ordered our fourth round of highballs when the raid began. Johnnie Ray wailed Cry on the jukebox, I’ve always loved that song, but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to listen to it again. Suddenly, we were surrounded by half a dozen policemen waving around billy clubs and shouting. I still don’t understand why no one warned us. I’m sure CC pays protection money. I think she mentioned it to me once. The whole thing makes no sense.
    I was desperate to find a way to save SR. He couldn’t get caught up in a raid. It would be a disaster, but there was nothing I could do. A policeman had placed himself in front of the bathroom, so I couldn’t push SR in that direction, couldn’t tell him to climb out the window. We were trapped.
    Taking a quick glance at SR, he didn’t seem all that upset. In fact, there was a smile on his face. As though he were happy about the whole thing. Which makes no sense. I must have misread his mood. He couldn’t possibly have been—
    The jukebox continued to play, some silly Guy Mitchell ditty I think, but the bar was absolutely quiet. In addition to our little group there were another ten men there. Docilely, like cattle being led to the slaughter, we allowed the police to lead us out to the street.
    They were terrible: called us names, pushed us when there was no need. Right in front of The Lair for anyone to see was the black paddy wagon. It was cold outside. I’d left my jacket on the back of a chair inside, but I was afraid to ask if I could get it. SR had left his jacket inside as well. Is that why he was so calm? Was his billfold in the jacket? Would he be able to lie about who he was? Is that why he took it all so well?
    Oh, why did I let him go to the bar in the first place? He never should have taken a risk like that, but we’d met there, and The Lair seemed safe enough. If anyone exposed

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