silent type, what’s wrong with that?”
“Stop!”
“I don’t know, should I?”
“Dan!”
“One of these days I may show you just how strange I can be.”
I let go of her. She settled back against me. I held her there, kissed her. After a while, she lay quiet, thoughtful, her fingers fiddling with the hair on my chest. A car went by on the street outside. The glow from its headlights passed in an arc over the bedroom’s ceiling and the far wall. The sound of its passage rose and faded. When it was gone, I listened to the little house settle back into quiet and darkness. Bethany’s mom had left her this place. It had a comfortable, purple, musty atmosphere to it, like coming home for a visit. I thought sometimes it was the atmosphere of Bethany’s girlhood. I could imagine her as a child here, playing with dolls in a corner or something, daydreaming about how one day she would have a house and family of her own. Kind of pitiful when you thought about it: the two of us lying in bed together, her with her daydreams, me with mine.
Then she said, “Sometimes with you, I used to think . . . I’d be chattering away, you know, and I used to think, Well, isn’t this nice? Here’s a man who actually knows how to listen to a woman .”
“Yeah? And now?”
“Well, now I wonder: Maybe the only reason he’s always listening is ’cause he’s never talking .”
“Man oh man. ‘Listen to me, don’t listen to me, talk, don’t talk.’ Try to please a woman. I dare you.”
“I know. But you know what I’m saying.”
Well, I suppose I did. And it was true enough: I had my secrets. The reason I had come to Tyler County, for instance—that was one of them.
With a little deadpanned perjury from Dr. Lee, I had managed to keep my drug use out of the grand jury hearing on Emory’s death. But at One Police Plaza, the brass knew. After I was cleared of wrongdoing, I was called into the office of the chief of detectives, Harry Fine. Fine was a fat little man with mild eyes and a mild smile and nothing else really mild about him.
“You did a great job, Champion,” he said, shaking my hand across his desk. He gestured for me to sit in the visitor’s chair. As I lowered myself into it, he added, “And now you’re through.”
I had been half-expecting this. “Am I?” I said.
“Oh, yeah. Hell yeah. You kidding me? Five slugs in a suspect while under the influence? That’s ‘Good-bye-nice-to-know-ya,’ in anyone’s book. Be prison too if you ever open your mouth about it.”
I nodded. I was thinking about the Fat Woman. She had been my mission—my obsession—for years. I’d never get the chance now to run her to ground. It was going to be hard to let her go.
“Only question is how you want to handle it,” said the Chief of D’s. “We could send you to Psych Services, put you on ‘limited’ for three months, retire you at half-pay plus benefits. No one could blame you for cracking up after a case like that. It’s not a bad deal.”
It wasn’t, but I waved it off. Hard to get a job in law enforcement after they put you on psych disability.
“Would you back me if I applied to another force?” I asked him.
Chief thought about it. He looked me over, drumming his chubby fingers on the desk. “ Should I back you? How crazy are you anyway?”
“I’ll get over it. It was the drug mostly.”
He drummed his fingers some more but finally he dropped a nod. “You go to some rural force. Small town. Bust some teenaged potheads, clean up a meth lab now and then. Guys killing their wives or whatever. You could handle that. I’d back you on something like that, sure. They’d be lucky to have you.”
“Thanks, Chief.”
“It’s plausible too, a plausible story. After a dirty case like this, a guy gets tired of the big city. Wants some fresh air, wants to do some fishing. You like to fish?”
“I do.”
“Well, there you go. It’s a plausible story.” Then he pointed one of those chubby
“Stop!”
“I don’t know, should I?”
“Dan!”
“One of these days I may show you just how strange I can be.”
I let go of her. She settled back against me. I held her there, kissed her. After a while, she lay quiet, thoughtful, her fingers fiddling with the hair on my chest. A car went by on the street outside. The glow from its headlights passed in an arc over the bedroom’s ceiling and the far wall. The sound of its passage rose and faded. When it was gone, I listened to the little house settle back into quiet and darkness. Bethany’s mom had left her this place. It had a comfortable, purple, musty atmosphere to it, like coming home for a visit. I thought sometimes it was the atmosphere of Bethany’s girlhood. I could imagine her as a child here, playing with dolls in a corner or something, daydreaming about how one day she would have a house and family of her own. Kind of pitiful when you thought about it: the two of us lying in bed together, her with her daydreams, me with mine.
Then she said, “Sometimes with you, I used to think . . . I’d be chattering away, you know, and I used to think, Well, isn’t this nice? Here’s a man who actually knows how to listen to a woman .”
“Yeah? And now?”
“Well, now I wonder: Maybe the only reason he’s always listening is ’cause he’s never talking .”
“Man oh man. ‘Listen to me, don’t listen to me, talk, don’t talk.’ Try to please a woman. I dare you.”
“I know. But you know what I’m saying.”
Well, I suppose I did. And it was true enough: I had my secrets. The reason I had come to Tyler County, for instance—that was one of them.
With a little deadpanned perjury from Dr. Lee, I had managed to keep my drug use out of the grand jury hearing on Emory’s death. But at One Police Plaza, the brass knew. After I was cleared of wrongdoing, I was called into the office of the chief of detectives, Harry Fine. Fine was a fat little man with mild eyes and a mild smile and nothing else really mild about him.
“You did a great job, Champion,” he said, shaking my hand across his desk. He gestured for me to sit in the visitor’s chair. As I lowered myself into it, he added, “And now you’re through.”
I had been half-expecting this. “Am I?” I said.
“Oh, yeah. Hell yeah. You kidding me? Five slugs in a suspect while under the influence? That’s ‘Good-bye-nice-to-know-ya,’ in anyone’s book. Be prison too if you ever open your mouth about it.”
I nodded. I was thinking about the Fat Woman. She had been my mission—my obsession—for years. I’d never get the chance now to run her to ground. It was going to be hard to let her go.
“Only question is how you want to handle it,” said the Chief of D’s. “We could send you to Psych Services, put you on ‘limited’ for three months, retire you at half-pay plus benefits. No one could blame you for cracking up after a case like that. It’s not a bad deal.”
It wasn’t, but I waved it off. Hard to get a job in law enforcement after they put you on psych disability.
“Would you back me if I applied to another force?” I asked him.
Chief thought about it. He looked me over, drumming his chubby fingers on the desk. “ Should I back you? How crazy are you anyway?”
“I’ll get over it. It was the drug mostly.”
He drummed his fingers some more but finally he dropped a nod. “You go to some rural force. Small town. Bust some teenaged potheads, clean up a meth lab now and then. Guys killing their wives or whatever. You could handle that. I’d back you on something like that, sure. They’d be lucky to have you.”
“Thanks, Chief.”
“It’s plausible too, a plausible story. After a dirty case like this, a guy gets tired of the big city. Wants some fresh air, wants to do some fishing. You like to fish?”
“I do.”
“Well, there you go. It’s a plausible story.” Then he pointed one of those chubby
Similar Books
