it on."
That thought hit her as funny, and he saw her smile.
It was against her will, and when it passed she would be angry. He
reached for a towel and fastened it around his waist, and she covered
her mouth and began to laugh. It came out in little bubbles, like
water starting to boil.
"I can't get that picture out of my head,"
she said finally. "What if everybody came to court naked? Can
you imagine, 'All rise for the judge" and in walks Bear Lewis?"
Bear Lewis was the previous district judge, and he
was a midget. He'd turned political after he'd taken the job — some
could handle it and some couldn't — and Seagraves had brought in
three thousand voters from Homewood and defeated him in the last
election, replacing him with John Taylor.
The laughing stopped the same way it had started,
little bursts of bubbles on the surface. When it was over she wiped
her eyes. "I don't know why that hit me so funny," she
said.
Seagraves moved in front of the medicine cabinet,
found a jar of 5 Day deodorant pads, and used one under each arm. "I
swear I don't know why, but I can't get that picture out of my mind,"
she said. He tossed the pads toward the wastebasket, missing them
both.
" Harry?"
He turned to her and waited.
"Why is it things always stop being funny when I
think they're funny too?"
" I got Paris Trout on my mind," he said,
"and the man takes the edge off humor."
She was still then, and he dressed.
He kissed her at the door before he left the house
and saw that all the fun was gone out of her now. Her depression was
insincere, but it still made him sad in a way because he knew what
that was. The fun seemed to have gone out of him too, a long time
ago.
She stalled him at the door. She said, "Harry,
what am I supposed to tell the cleaner's?"
He said, "Why don't you get out of the house
this afternoon? Call Miz Hodges and go shopping."
"I got to tell the cleaner's something,"
she said.
He couldn't say what it was, he didn't know why.
Somehow, little things had turned big, and it had come too far to be
chicken blood.
" It's blood, isn't it?"
" Animal blood," he said. "Something
ran in front of the car."
And as he walked out of the house, he
heard her say, "Oh, the poor thing . . ."
* * *
SEAGRAVES RETRIEVED THE CADILLAC from the filling
station and drove
downtown. Bud Ramsey had
vacuumed the feathers out and cleaned the pool of blood off the floor
but hadn't been able to do much with the seat covers.
He parked the car on the street, left the doors open
to air out the smell of chicken, and walked into the courthouse. Ward
Townes's office was on the second floor, next to the desk where you
got licensed. Any license you wanted in Ether County — fishing,
dogs, marriage — you went to the same place.
Paris Trout was sitting on the bench outside, just
beneath a sign that said GUN TOTER'S PERMITS. Seagraves saw that he
had put on a dark blue suit, two inches short in the sleeves, and
polished his shoes. His hair was parted in the middle and slicked
back. He legs were crossed, and he held a straw hat in his lap. He
looked too big for the bench. When he saw Seagraves, he pulled the
watch out of his pocket and checked the time.
" One o"clock sharp," he said. "Here
I am."
" Is Ward Townes back from lunch?"
" He come in a little bit ago," Trout said,
"told me to wait here for you."
Seagraves opened the door to Townes's office and put
his head inside. The prosecutor was sitting at his secretary's desk
with a phone against his ear. Seagraves held up a finger, getting his
attention, and said, "Give me one minute, we'll be right in."
He shut the door without waiting for an answer and
walked Trout to the end of the hall. There was a window there,
overlooking the street. "I went to Cornell Clinic this morning,"
Seagraves said. Trout moved a little to one side and looked out the
window.
" Did you hear? I went to Cornell Clinic to see
Rosie Sayers. She's passed on."
Seagraves was watching Trout to see how it
That thought hit her as funny, and he saw her smile.
It was against her will, and when it passed she would be angry. He
reached for a towel and fastened it around his waist, and she covered
her mouth and began to laugh. It came out in little bubbles, like
water starting to boil.
"I can't get that picture out of my head,"
she said finally. "What if everybody came to court naked? Can
you imagine, 'All rise for the judge" and in walks Bear Lewis?"
Bear Lewis was the previous district judge, and he
was a midget. He'd turned political after he'd taken the job — some
could handle it and some couldn't — and Seagraves had brought in
three thousand voters from Homewood and defeated him in the last
election, replacing him with John Taylor.
The laughing stopped the same way it had started,
little bursts of bubbles on the surface. When it was over she wiped
her eyes. "I don't know why that hit me so funny," she
said.
Seagraves moved in front of the medicine cabinet,
found a jar of 5 Day deodorant pads, and used one under each arm. "I
swear I don't know why, but I can't get that picture out of my mind,"
she said. He tossed the pads toward the wastebasket, missing them
both.
" Harry?"
He turned to her and waited.
"Why is it things always stop being funny when I
think they're funny too?"
" I got Paris Trout on my mind," he said,
"and the man takes the edge off humor."
She was still then, and he dressed.
He kissed her at the door before he left the house
and saw that all the fun was gone out of her now. Her depression was
insincere, but it still made him sad in a way because he knew what
that was. The fun seemed to have gone out of him too, a long time
ago.
She stalled him at the door. She said, "Harry,
what am I supposed to tell the cleaner's?"
He said, "Why don't you get out of the house
this afternoon? Call Miz Hodges and go shopping."
"I got to tell the cleaner's something,"
she said.
He couldn't say what it was, he didn't know why.
Somehow, little things had turned big, and it had come too far to be
chicken blood.
" It's blood, isn't it?"
" Animal blood," he said. "Something
ran in front of the car."
And as he walked out of the house, he
heard her say, "Oh, the poor thing . . ."
* * *
SEAGRAVES RETRIEVED THE CADILLAC from the filling
station and drove
downtown. Bud Ramsey had
vacuumed the feathers out and cleaned the pool of blood off the floor
but hadn't been able to do much with the seat covers.
He parked the car on the street, left the doors open
to air out the smell of chicken, and walked into the courthouse. Ward
Townes's office was on the second floor, next to the desk where you
got licensed. Any license you wanted in Ether County — fishing,
dogs, marriage — you went to the same place.
Paris Trout was sitting on the bench outside, just
beneath a sign that said GUN TOTER'S PERMITS. Seagraves saw that he
had put on a dark blue suit, two inches short in the sleeves, and
polished his shoes. His hair was parted in the middle and slicked
back. He legs were crossed, and he held a straw hat in his lap. He
looked too big for the bench. When he saw Seagraves, he pulled the
watch out of his pocket and checked the time.
" One o"clock sharp," he said. "Here
I am."
" Is Ward Townes back from lunch?"
" He come in a little bit ago," Trout said,
"told me to wait here for you."
Seagraves opened the door to Townes's office and put
his head inside. The prosecutor was sitting at his secretary's desk
with a phone against his ear. Seagraves held up a finger, getting his
attention, and said, "Give me one minute, we'll be right in."
He shut the door without waiting for an answer and
walked Trout to the end of the hall. There was a window there,
overlooking the street. "I went to Cornell Clinic this morning,"
Seagraves said. Trout moved a little to one side and looked out the
window.
" Did you hear? I went to Cornell Clinic to see
Rosie Sayers. She's passed on."
Seagraves was watching Trout to see how it
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