Time Travelers Never Die Part 45

"Yes." He shook his head. The heating system came on with a thump. Dave thought how he had to get it fixed. Shel got up after a minute and walked over to the liquor cabinet. "Mind?"

"No. Go ahead."

"You want anything?"

"Rum and c.o.ke would be good."

He mixed the drinks, brought them back, and gave one to Dave. "I couldn't help it." He fell back down into his chair. "I read how I was one of two sons of Michael Shelborne. That I'd been in public relations. And that I'd died in a fire on Friday, September 13, 2019. The fire wasn't caused by lightning. It was deliberately set. Perpetrator never caught. That was all they had to say. Oh, and that my father vanished under mysterious circ.u.mstances."

"I'm sorry, Shel."

He sighed. "G.o.ddam it, Dave, I can't believe this is happening."

Dave tried his drink. There was too much rum. "I don't know what to say."

"It's a scary thing to have the story of your entire life lying at your elbow. And it amounts to two lines."

"This is what comes of traveling alone." Dave was annoyed. "We agreed not to do that."

"It's done. And if I hadn't, I'd be dead now." He was pale, frightened. He buried his forehead in his palms. "What the h.e.l.l am I saying? I am am dead." dead."

"You're here."

"And I'm also in the graveyard."

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know." He seemed lost. "It's waiting for me back there." "It's waiting for me back there." His breathing was loud. His breathing was loud.

"Don't go back to the town house," Dave said. "Stay here."

Shel seemed not to have heard. "It must have been burglars."

"They broke into the desk. Into the bottom drawer."

"Well, that's what burglars do."

"You're sure n.o.body else knew? About the converters?"

He just stared out of those dazed, blank eyes. "n.o.body else knew. But at least I'm warned. Maybe I should take a gun back with me."

"Maybe."

Avoid the irreparable act.

"Anyway," he said, "I thought you'd want to know I'm okay." He snickered at that.

"Don't go back at all," Dave said. "With or without a gun."

"I don't intend to."

"Good."

"If it drops me in the Atlantic, so be it." It was supposed to be a joke, and he laughed, though Dave remained silent. "Dave, I'm scared."

"I know."

"At some point, for one reason or another, it's going to happen." He finished his drink. "Maybe I get drunk. Maybe I lose my mind. Maybe I just decide to get it over with. Whatever it is-"

"Let it go, Shel."

"Easy for you to say."

"I'm sorry."

"It's knowing the way of it," he said. "That's what tears me up."

"Just stay here," Dave said again. "You're safe here."

Shel shook his head. "I appreciate the offer, Dave."

"But . . . ?"

"Nothing like watching your own funeral to remind you how valuable sunlight is. And that you don't have it forever. I've got a few places to go. People to talk to. Then, when I've done what I need to, I'll think about all this."

"Okay."

"I've got a place downstream. I'm going to stay there."

"Really?" said Dave. "Where?"

"Center City." He didn't elaborate, so Dave didn't push. Shel picked up the gla.s.s, drained it, wiped his lips. "Are they sure it's me? I heard the body was burned beyond recognition."

"The police checked your dental records."

"They matched?"

"Yes."

His brows came together. "Do me a favor, Dave. Make sure they actually did did the identification. Maybe they thought there was no question it was me, and they just put that out there but didn't really bother. Okay?" the identification. Maybe they thought there was no question it was me, and they just put that out there but didn't really bother. Okay?"

"Okay. I'll make sure."

He got up, wandered around the room, touching things, the books, a bust of Plato, a table lamp. He paused in front of the picture from the Beach Club. "I keep thinking how much it means to be alive. You know, Dave, I saw people out there today I haven't seen in years." He played with his gla.s.s. It was an expensive piece, chiseled, and he explored its facets. "When is the reading of the will?"

"I don't know. They may have done it already."

"I'm tempted to go."

"To the reading?"

"Why not?" He managed a tight, pained smile. "I could wear a black beard and reveal myself at the appropriate moment."

"You can't do that." Dave was horrified.

Shel laughed. "I know. But by G.o.d I'd like to." He shook himself, as if he were just waking up. "Dave, truth is that I know how I'm going to die. It's different from the simple knowledge that you won't live forever."

Dave said nothing.

"But it doesn't have to happen until I'm ready for it." He looked past Dave, out the window.

"I think you need to tell her," Dave said gently.

His expression clouded. "I know." He drew the words out. "I'll talk to her. At the proper time."

"Be careful," Dave said. "She's already been through a lot."

"Yeah."

"You okay?"

He nodded. Dave thought he might say something like Not bad for a dead guy Not bad for a dead guy. But he let it go.

CHAPTER 36.

He has gone, left, cleared out, bolted.

-CICERO

THE critical question was whether they had in fact buried Adrian Shelborne, or whether there was a possibility of mistaken ident.i.ty. Neither Dave nor Shel knew anything about police procedure other than what they saw on TV. So, in the morning, Dave set out to pursue the issue. critical question was whether they had in fact buried Adrian Shelborne, or whether there was a possibility of mistaken ident.i.ty. Neither Dave nor Shel knew anything about police procedure other than what they saw on TV. So, in the morning, Dave set out to pursue the issue.

He started with Jerry, who seemed annoyed that Shel had died, almost as if he had in some way brought it on himself. "I shouldn't speak ill of the dead," he told Dave. "He was a decent man, but he never really made his life count." That was an echo of what Shel had said, but the meaning was different. Jerry thought in terms of a professional reputation and the attendant compensation. He sat behind a polished teak desk. An India rubber plant in a large pot stood by a sun-filled window. The furniture was expensive, padded with leather, ponderous, exuding a sense that whatever went on in the office was significant. Plaques covered the walls, appreciations from civic groups, corporate awards, various licenses and testaments. Photos of his two children were prominently displayed, a boy in a Little League uniform, a girl nuzzling a horse. His wife, who had left him years earlier, was missing.

"Actually," Dave said, "I thought he did pretty well."

"I don't mean money, Dave. But it seems to me a man has an obligation to live as part of his community. To partic.i.p.ate in community functions. To help out. To belong to, say, the Optimists. Support one of the churches."

"I've a question for you," Dave said.

"Go ahead."

"In a case like this, how thoroughly do the police check the ident.i.ty of the victim? I mean, it's Shel's house. He's the only one in it. So I was wondering if they might figure who else could it be? And maybe they just don't bother going further."

Jerry shook his head. "The cops are usually pretty careful about that sort of thing, Dave. Now understand, criminal law isn't my field, but they'd be crazy simply to make a.s.sumptions in a situation like this. They'd be opening themselves up to all kinds of liability. Which is why they check the dental records."

"They said said they did. But is there a chance they might not have gone to the trouble? Because they were already sure?" they did. But is there a chance they might not have gone to the trouble? Because they were already sure?"

"No. Believe me, it's no trouble. And they're not going to risk lawsuits and public embarra.s.sment. If they say it was Shel, you can believe that's who it was."

"I'm sorry to hear it."

He shrugged. "It's the way life is sometimes." He rose, signaling that the interview was over.

They walked toward the door. "You know," Dave said, "this experience has a little bit of deja vu about it."

Jerry paused with his hand on the k.n.o.b. "How do you mean?"

"There was a language teacher at Princeton, where I got my doctorate. Same thing happened to him. He lived alone, and one night a gas main let go and blew up the whole house. They buried him, then found out it wasn't him at all. He'd gone on an unannounced holiday to Vermont, and turned his place over to a friend. They didn't find out until several days after the funeral."

Jerry shrugged. The colossal stupidity loose in the world was no surprise to him. "Unfortunately," he said, "there's not much chance of that here."

[image]

DAVE probably shouldn't have tried to see how Helen was doing because his own emotions were still churning. But he called her from a drugstore, and she said yes, she'd like to see him, and suggested lunch. They met at an Applebee's on City Avenue. probably shouldn't have tried to see how Helen was doing because his own emotions were still churning. But he called her from a drugstore, and she said yes, she'd like to see him, and suggested lunch. They met at an Applebee's on City Avenue.

She looked worn, dazed, and her eyes were bloodshot.

Nothing in his life had been quite as painful as sitting with her that day, seeing those raw emotions and knowing that, had it been Dave Dave who'd died, she'd have been sorry but would have gotten over it easily enough. who'd died, she'd have been sorry but would have gotten over it easily enough.

The conversation was full of regrets, things not said, acts undone. She was as soft and vulnerable as Dave had ever seen her. By all the laws of nature, Shel was dead. Was he still bound to keep his distance? He wondered how she would react if she knew Shel was probably in Dave's kitchen at that moment, making a submarine sandwich.

He wanted to tell her. There was a possibility that, when she did did find out, when she got past her anger with Shel, she'd hold it against find out, when she got past her anger with Shel, she'd hold it against Dave Dave as well. He also, G.o.d help him, wanted to keep Shel as well. He also, G.o.d help him, wanted to keep Shel dead dead. It was hard to admit to himself, but it was true. He wanted nothing more than a clear channel to Helen Suchenko. But when he watched her bite down the pain, when the tears came, when she excused herself with a shaky voice and hurried back to the ladies' room, he could stand it no more. "Helen," he said, "are you free this afternoon?"

She sighed. "It's my afternoon off. Just as well. People get nervous around weepy doctors. I'm free. But I'm not in the mood to go anywhere."

"Can I persuade you to come out to my place?"

She looked desperately fragile. "I don't think so, Dave. I need time to myself."

He listened to the hum of conversation around them. "Please," he said. "It's important."

THE gray skies sagged down into the streets, and all the headlights were on. Helen followed him in her small blue Ford. He watched her in the mirror, playing back all possible scenarios on how to handle this. gray skies sagged down into the streets, and all the headlights were on. Helen followed him in her small blue Ford. He watched her in the mirror, playing back all possible scenarios on how to handle this. He's not dead, Helen. He's not dead, Helen. Leave out the time-travel stuff, he decided, at least for now. Use the story he'd told Jerry as an example of how misunderstandings can occur. And then bring him into the room. Best not to warn Leave out the time-travel stuff, he decided, at least for now. Use the story he'd told Jerry as an example of how misunderstandings can occur. And then bring him into the room. Best not to warn him him. G.o.d knows how he'd react. But get them together, present him with a fait accompli, and you will have done your self-sacrificial duty, Dave. You dumb b.a.s.t.a.r.d.

He pulled into his driveway, opened the garage, and rolled inside. The rain had grown even more intense. Helen stopped behind him, and hurried out of her car. "This way." Dave waved her into the garage.

"Glad to be out of that," she said, with a drenched smile. "Dave, I can't stay long."

"Okay. We'll only need a minute."