BULLETS by Elijah Drive Page A

too. Straight up, with a slice of lemon and really cold.”
    “Me too.”
    She handed him his glass and they both took a deep drink. She leaned against the counter, staring at him. “I’m Doris Carlson, but you probably know that, since you drove all the way out here to my house.”
    “I did know that. My name is Jon Elder. I’m very sorry for your loss.”
    She cocked her head at his name. “You’re the fella, one of them that was arrested the day they arrested Pedro for murdering my Roger.”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    “Ted thought you might have something to do with what happened to Roger, but then they found out that you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, right?”
    “Pretty much, yep.”
    “If I recall, Ted also told me you hired some fancy lawyer for Pedro, too.”
    “I did, though it seems as though he might not live long enough to need a lawyer.”
    “I heard that, too.” She sighed and took another drink.
    Slick looked around. A picture of Roger, Doris and a young man stood on the mantle. Next to it was another picture of the same young man, older and much more serious in a Marine’s uniform. Doris caught his look and nodded to it.
    “Our son, Jim.”
    “Fine looking young man.”
    “Yeah. He was.” She took another drink of tea. “He died in Iraq, nine years ago. Roadside bomb. Died protecting our country from Iraqi weapons of mass destruction that turned out not to exist. Now, of course, those who got us into that particular war say that it was never about that, but that’s a load of shit, ain’t it?”
    “It surely is.”
    “Roger was really proud when Jim enlisted, so proud, he’d served, too, and he talked to our son all the time about his service, and it had its affect. Jim idolized his father and wanted to be like him, that’s why he signed up. It changed Roger when Jim died. He was never into politics before that, other than maybe making conversation over the newspaper. But our son dying in a war that we were fighting for no real apparent reason, that changed him. I think it’s why he took all these other young fellas, our workers, under his wing, gave them jobs, advice, money. He blamed himself and was trying to make up for what happened to Jim. He went way over the bend.”
    “How so?”
    She regarded him for a moment then took a few steps over to a nearby door and opened it. What was once a pantry had been converted into a small office. “Take a look for yourself.”
    There was a small desk, covered in notebooks, Post-it notes and old coffee cups. Multiple clippings were taped over all the walls. Slick glanced at a few of the headlines from the printouts. Much of it was anti-war and conspiracy theories regarding nine-eleven. There were also a few pictures of the World Trade Center falling, along with arrows designating suspicious points of interest. Behind the door hung a big poster of George W. Bush on the wall, covered with darts.
    “Ever seen anything like that before?” she asked.
    “A couple times. I live in New York City. The tragedy affected people in a lot of different ways.”
    “That it did,” she said. “Some got rich off it, some didn’t and a few lost everything. That’s what Roger used to say. But he didn’t really pay attention to the details until we lost Jim. After that, I think he got lost in them.”
    She took another drink. “So what brings you out here, Mr. Elder?”
    “Call me Jon. I’m here because I want to know what happened.”
    “With my husband? Why?”
    “Some sheriff nearly caved in my skull and I’m of a mind to find out if there was a worthy reason behind it.”
    “Ted cracking your skull, or my husband’s murder? Them’s two separate things, and no worthy reason behind either, in my opinion. First one is just a result of Ted’s ignorance, the second, well, I honestly can’t make sense of it, not at all.”
    “Pedro murdering your husband, that doesn’t make sense?”
    “Not at all. Of all the boys Roger took under