Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine July-August 2002

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CONTENTS
SHORT STORIES
THE SCRIVENER’ S TALE by William B. Crenshaw 8

HE CAT AND M O USE CAPER by Cynthia Lawrence 44
THE CRUISE by Jas. R. Petrin 52
ANTE BELLUM by E. B. Ruark 63
MINOR LEAGUE by Steve Hockensmith 80
AT THE END OF THE PATH by Eve Fisher 92
TRADESMAN’S EXIT by John H. Dirckx 100
W HAT GOES AROUND by John L. French 121
THE BLACK D AM P by Terry Black 133
THE SW IM M ERS’ CLUB by D. A. McGuire 141
STALKERS by Stuart R. Ball 173
UKULELE AND THE W O RLD ’S PAIN by James Sallis 181
A VERY SPECIAL GROUP by William T. Lowe 184
W HAT THE CHAIRMAN SAYS by Craig V. Eister 194
LIGHTHOUSE R O C K by Raym ond Steiber 204
THE LYRE’S SO N G by Marianne Wilski Strong 215
DEPARTMENTS
FROM THE PUBLISHER 4

EDITOR’S NOTES 5
THE M YSTERIOUS PHOTOGRAPH 99
UNSOLVED by Robert Kesling 171
SOLUTION TO THE JUNE “ UNSOLVED” 183
BOOKED & PRINTED by Mary Cannon 234
THE STO R Y THAT W ON 239
Cover by Getty Images
A L F R E D H IT C H C O C K ’S M YSTE R Y M AGAZINE (USPS:523-590, ISSN:©002-5224), Vol. 47, Nos. 7 and

8, July/August, 2002. Published monthly except for a July/August double issue by Del! Magazines, a division
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The stories in this magazine are all fictitious, and any resemblance betw een the characters in them and actu
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PROM THE PUBLISHER
D ea r Reader,
I am very sorry to have to tell you that 0 atlile eu Jordan, longstanding
editor o f Alfred I litchcoch's M ystery Magazine, died on January 31, 2 0 0 2 ,
after a short illness.
Calhleen celebrated her twentieth anniversary as editor o f A 11M M in

2 0 0 1 . Just weehs hefor c her death, she received word that she would he the
recipient o f the hllery (J ueen Award, established in 10 3 3 to honor
outstanding people in the mystery publishing industry. Calhleen leaves us
a considerable legacy in the many talented writers she nurtured at A H AIM,
hut she u asn t only a great editor, she was a wonderful person, and we miss
her very much.
Calhleen teas fiercely dedicated to A 11M M , and it would have been

most important to her that it continue on in good hands after her pass
ing. I believe she would have been pleased with her successor.
Linda Landrigan, A l l M M 's new editor, is a former Associate Editor for
the magazine who spent jive years under Cathleen's tutelage. Linda has also
wo rb ed as a freelance writer and booh reviewer, and she is active in the
Women 's National Booh Association. Lihe Calhleen, Linda has a great
breadth o f hnowledge o f the m ystery field. She is also a lifelong reader o f
A l l M M , and I hnow that her love o f th c magazine will guide her in
maintaining the high-quality fiction that you 've come to expect.
Sincerely,
f / l i r r f/uv/ter
Publisher
Linda Landrigan , Editor

J onas En o V an F leet, Editorial Assistant
S usan K endrioski, Executive Director, Art and Production
V ictoria G reen, Senior Art Director
J une Levine, Associate Art Director
C arole D ixon , Senior Production Manager
A bigail B rowning, Manager, Subsidiary Rights and Marketing
B ruce W. S herbow , Vice President, Sales and Marketing
S andy M arlowe , Circulation Services
J ulia M c Evoy , Manager, Advertising Sales
C onnie G oon , Advertising Sales Coordinator
Advertising Representatives:
David Geller Publishers’ Rep. (212) 4 5 5 -0 1 0 0 (Display Advertising)
P eter K antek , Publisher
Visit us online at w w w .them ysteryplace.com .
4
le f t 's
^N O TE S ^
Rem em bering Cathleen Jordan
by William B. Crenshaw
his is Cathleen’s space. In tim e to m eet me but to introduce
T every issue o f Hitchcock for

two decades, she used this
column to share som ething
you. She’d tell you about the issue’s
m e to the editors o f the oth er
m agazines at Davis Publications
and to sit m e down for a long and
with
relaxed conversation. E ach year
stories; she’d list the latest awards; th at I went back, I saw new w rit
in the January issue, she’d even ers getting that same respect and
send you a wry Season’s Greetings attention.
card. But w hat she loved was to The H itchcock office was a w on
present new writers to you. “We derful place to visit. Cathleen was
are glad to introduce a new writer,” charm ing and funny and gen er
she’d say, or, “Now we are delight ous, and w e’d talk about the prob
ed to bring you,” or, ‘W elcome to,” lems o f writing and editing short
and in this limited space she’d give stories, discussions often joined by
a face to the name. h er terrific editorial assistants.
I wish she were here to intro Cathleen would prod and probe,
duce her latest find, but, sadly, asking for another story with re
she’s not. So I’d like to return a fa curring characters or bugging me
vor and tell you about Cathleen to do a novel. What Cathleen gave
Jordan from the viewpoint of one m e and oth er w riters was su p
o f those new writers. port, encouragement, and respect
As an editor, Cathleen respect for writing.
ed her readers, her writers, and W hile th e Edgar A w ards d in
the writing craft. A fter she a c ners are im portant and e n jo y
cepted my first story, I taped the able, C athleen preferred things
letter above m y desk and dared less form al and m ore intim ate.
think o f m yself as a “writer”— O n the d a y after th e E dgars,
sometimes. Cathleen helped me sh e’d take a group out to dinner
think that way more often. When to honor a new w riter w ho had
I came gawking to New York for won the Robert L. Fish award or
the first time eighteen years ago, a w riter w hose H itch cock story
I knew the m agazine would be was nominated for an Edgar. For
busy with E dgar w eek and fa writers, new or old, it was extra
mous writers dropping by, b u t I ord in a ry— C athleen and h u s
hoped at least to m eet Cathleen band Nick, an editorial assistant,
and thank her. She not only took tw o or th ree other w riters and
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e d i t o r ’s n o t e s 7
spouses, a long evening o f w on stories. Th e stories, given and re

derful food and wonderful conver ceived, w ere acts o f sharing.
sation. Cathleen was open, witty, smart,
In her columns, Cathleen gave generous, sophisticated, unpreten
you details about a writer’s likes tious, thoughtful, comfortable, de
and dislikes, pets and hobbies, to term in ed — as one o f h er assis
help round out the portrait. Cath tants said, she was som eone you
leen liked tight writing. She loved w anted to spend the rest o f your
her cats. She loved New York. She life getting to know.
knew where good little restau We all m iss her. I started that
rants and book shops were tucked. novel a m onth before she died. I
H er apartm ent was cram m ed had cou n ted on talking to h er
with books. She asked for reading about it in progress. But when it’s
recommendations and offered her finished, I’ll know I wouldn’t have
own. She liked to hear stories told, written it without her influence. A
stories about the oddities of our lot o f w riters owe her m ore than
hometowns, and she liked to tell we can repay, and all o f us— pub
stories herself— Texas stories and lisher, staff, writers, and readers—
New York stories and South Dako are incredibly fortunate to have
ta and Italy and fam ily and cat known her.
rr"= =
Each spring the Mystery Writ and ou tstan d in g people in the

ers o f America hosts a banquet at m ystery publishing industry.
w hich the winners o f its presti Cathleen Jordan shared the hon
gious Edgar Allan Poe Awards or w ith E Q M M editor Janet
are announced. As William Cren H utch in gs. A nother special
shaw so fondly recalls in the pre aw ard, the Raven, was given to
ceding editorial, the banquet and Los A n geles Tim es critic Charles
the special events surrounding it Cham plin and to Anthony Mason
are a highlight o f the m ystery and Douglas Smith o f CBS Sun
publishing year, a time when au day M orn in g’s “Fine Print.” The
thors meet their editors and rev R aven is intended to recogn ize
el in the com pany o f other “outstanding achievement in the
authors. This year’s banquet took m ystery field outside the realm o f
place on M ay second at the creative writing.”
Grand Hyatt Hotel in New York.
The cerem onies included the Listed below are the 2001 nom
posthumous presentation o f the inees for the E dgar A llan Poe
E llery Queen Award to A H M M A w ard in each o f tw elve ca te
editor Cathleen Jordan. E stab gories, with the winners in b old
lished in 1982, the Ellery Queen face. The Robert L. Fish Award for
Award recognizes writing teams (continued, on page 237)
T he Scrivener’s Tale
Adam o f Cranefield
edited, with notes and
modernization,
by W illiam B. Crenshaw
rologue: Editor’s note— The lies o f mankind, his ow n included.
P story o f the grea t good fo r
Cranefield. M anuscripts cam e into

m y hands being so w ell known, I
The role o f the tran slator— or,
tune by which the late four m ore modestly, the modern izer— re
quires apology without ceasing, so
teenth and early fifteenth century
here 1 make mine. In this m odern
ization, I hope to m ake A dam o f
w ill not repeat it here. S uffice it to Cranefield accessible to the twenty-
say that my excitem ent h as only in first century General R eader while
creased w ith the tim e and effort remaining true to his voice. I sought
spent with the all-too-often-elusive to keep my own interpolations to a
hand o f Adam o f Cranefield. minimum, but I have been required
Adam , i f I m ay be allow ed the by my editor to elim inate all foot
liberty— 1 feel that I know him well notes!
enough to call him “A d a m ”—is not Under this restriction I am. forced
a chronicler with an eye to p osteri to take liberties with the text that
ty o r p olitical ingratiation , as is are at best presum ptuous, in order
Froissart, nor d oes he observe so to clarify m aterial best explained
m eticulously (and tediously!) as do by (and rightly belonging in) foot
the Paxtons. H is w ritin g is fra g notes, endnotes, annotations, a p
m entary and elliptical, highly sub pendices, and other scholarly appa
jectiv e and at tim es sh a m elessly ratus. For example, ra th er than
roguish, exhibiting a cu riou s m ix offering explanatory notes on fou r
ture (one hesitates to say “blend”) o f teenth century slang, I have been
N orthern and M idland fourteenth forced to substitute roughly equiva
century dialects and sensibilities— lent modem slang in its place, and
crude and cultured, savage and sen w hile such substitution d oes in
sitive by turns. But he possesses a som e sense capture for the m odern
keen intellect and a visceral interest reader the flavor o f the original, one
in being (or som etim es in sim ply cannot help lam ent w hat is in
staying) alive, taking delight in a l evitably lost in translation. (O ne
m ost everything, especially the fol m ust also draw a line som ewhere. I
8
THE SCRIVENER S TALE 9
have refused, fo r instance, to ren celebrate? Nay. I sit and write, he

d er the phrase mea culpa as “my sits and reads. Always his books,
bad.”) even more o f late. They alone have
In any case, I hope that Adam ’s remained constant in this unsyker
stories w ill be as enjoyable and grat world.
ifying to the reader as they are to the He will not be fit to share a sop
m odernizer, but 1 must close with with on the morrow unless he takes
one fin a l word o f caution: Adam is his sleep soon, and in a better bed
a m an o f his tim e and can be can than this inn provides. B ut if I
did in his description and colorful nudge him awake so he can better
in his opinion. While I intend to be sleep, he will deny his napping and
circum spect and sensitive, I will not snarl at m e for breaking his
bow d lerize his story— a reporter thoughts, and call for a new candle
must, as Chaucer says, “reherce as despite th e expense, and stay
ny he can /Everich a word, if it be in hunched at his books until his back
his ch a rg e!... O r ellis he moot telle aches, and tomorrow’s road will be
his tale untrew.” Judge nothing that one long harangue at me and my
I say, Gentle Reader, as o f evil intent; blotted and miscopied transcribing.
I m ust rehearse his tale whole, for That, or he will avoid talk by trying
better or worse, or else falsify som e again to read as he rides, lost in a
o f m y material. book spread and balanced on his
A n d therefore, w hoever desires saddle’s bow.
not to h ear such things should He was reading thus when first
“turne over the leef and chese an I saw h im fourteen years ago in
other ta le ” 1385, the eighth year o f King Rich
— WBC, New York, Santa Fe, ard’s reign and the fourth year af
Due West, 2001 ter the Rising. I was leg-stocked
outside the foregate o f Haresbury
H ere beginneth the Tale o f as though accused o f purse cutting
Adam, the Scrivener. . . rather than murder. The dignity o f
the gaol, dark and damp though it
He has been too long at his books was, w as denied m e for the plea
again. sure and amusement of the town—
He nods as he reads, his candle curses hurled by the good burgess
sm okes and dances, untrimmed. es and dirt clods hurled by their
We should be in a tavern raising children. N ot m y first tim e in
our cups to Dame Fortune or in stocks, but the first where the en
chapel on our knees thanking God, tire town seemed to joy in my tor
one, or both. Not only did we sur ture. O f evenings, drunkards whom
vive the revolt, but good K ing the gatekeeper let slip out used me
H enry IV, newly crowned, has not for their pisspot. I cursed them all
only confirmed the rights and priv to Hell with the mightiest o f oaths,
ileges granted by King Richard, he and cursed the priests, too, and why
has doubled the annuity to eighty not— I would be hanged long be
pounds. Eighty pounds! And do we fore the justice o f the peace made
10 WILLIAM B. CRENSHAW
his way to this Godforsaken stain o f guards wandered over to put a stop
a tow n and asked m e whether I to his vengeance.
had done this murder or no. “He would have eat my son,” the
The justice was my only hope, for father protested.
the town wanted me dead. Some “No more than a mouthful, John,
one had to pay for the murder o f no more than a taste,” Tallguard
their leading citizen, and I was a said. “No harm done your boy, so
stran ger and at hand. I would let’s do no more here. The justice
serve. might not approve o f a maimed
So I w atched the road like a prisoner. And we wouldn’t want to
hawk a hare, hoping to spot the jus piss off a representative o f the
tice and his retinue before the Crown, would we, William?”
town’s patience wore out. “Oh, no,” said Fatguard. “The
On the third day, as I sat with an Crown knows best, now, don’t it?”
kles chafing and back afire, hope John took their m eaning and
fading with every passing traveler, kicked me one last time before
a well-aimed clod caught the back thumping away.
o f m y head and spread a cloud o f “Now, look you,” said Tallguard,
dust glittering around my face, and blotting out the sun, “mind you
I fell to cursing the whelps who don’t bring no more trouble down
laughed in the shadow o f the wall. here. I might not be so quick to lend
“M ind you r bloody language,” a hand next time.”
growled Tallguard from the shade. “You call that quick?” I said. “My
Well, so long as I was going to grandmother moves quicker, and
die anyway, I decided to die she’s dead.”
avenged. I would feign sleep so as to T a llgu a rd s tra ig h te n e d and
snatch one o f the little town vermin looked across me to Fatguard. He
if he edged too close and have, at looked back at me and raised the
least, the satisfaction o f breaking a butt of his pike from the dirt. “That
bone or two. I could hang only once. where he kicked you?” he asked,
A town this size wouldn’t have a and gave me a pop to the ribs.
hangm an skilled enough to let me “Aye,” said Fatguard as I writhed
down before I died so to revive me around, trying to find my breath. “I
and prolong the torture. believe that’s right where he kicked
I m ade a grab at one o f the him.”
whelps about noon, caught him by Later my breath came back, but
his ragged cote and drew him to I stayed where I was, curled on my
ward me snarling as he wailed for side with my legs twisted into the
help. The cloth gave way and the stocks.
brat ran screaming into town, and 1 lay while the sun faded behind
I was left with a handful o f rag and gathering clouds and a fine drizzle
a sound pum meling by the whelp’s settled the dust o f the road. I lay
father a short while later. A sound with my back to the gate and my
kicking, I should say, for his boot eyes closed, pretending I was dead
cracked a rib or two before the so I would be left in peace. But as
THE SCRIVENER’S TALE 11
the drizzle turned to earnest rain, tant— with a forked beard and
I heard a horse draw up and the mud-splashed boots, a palfrey over
creak o f saddle leather. I opened an burdened with bags and bundles,
eye, hoping for the justice and his with reins in one hand and a small
retinue. leather-bound book open in the oth
“Not yet hanged?” came the voice. er. His gaze at me was long and at
Not the justice, but Sir Eustace de once curious and amused, and it
Witte, my accuser, leaning his long fretted me to be thus at length con
face down at me. “There was a time sidered.
when you would be three days dead I raised m y chin. “And have you
by now. Not today. Not in this milky ridden all this way to piss upon me,
age.” too?”
As if in affirmation, a bellyful of His h orse stirred at m y voice.
thunder rolled around us. Sir Eu “Are you a privy, then?” Forkbeard
stace straightened in his saddle the Grocer said, smiling a m adding
and smiled that God agreed with little smile. “I took you for a m an.”
him. I opened my mouth to answer I felt the rage rise within me. “I
but he wheeled and spurred and I am a man, you fat rabbit! Loose my
got a mouthful o f dirt for my pains. ankles and I’ll show you a m an!”
Lightning cracked a big tree by He smiled and flicked his reins,
the river and thunder called open turning his horse toward the gate.
the sluice gates o f the sky. I lay in I scraped a fist o f mud into a ball
the flood. I raised my fist to the and threw for his head. I hit the
heavens. “Do thou thy worst,” I rump o f his mount.
shouted, “and I thee defy.” I hoped Up his horse reared and forward
som eone in this rat-bait town shot like a bolt, and Forkbeard was
would hear and be shocked to soul’s all arms and legs and belly as he
marrow by the blasphemer calling rolled ou t o f the saddle and
down the lightning. I looked bounced to the drying m ud, his
around. No one, not even a guard, book fluttering through the air like
was so stupid as to be out in these a bird stunned.
torrents. No one had heard me, ex The guards hurried over to help
cept maybe God. him to his feet, and the w helps
It stopped raining, and the sun laughed, as did 1.1 had made things
came out, and the air got thick and worse for myself, but by Jesu I had
steamy, and mud began caking and shown that I was not just going to
drying in my hair, on my skin, in roll over and die. I lay back, proud
my clothes. I was hot and cold at o f my spirit.
once, shivering afire. A mud ball I was wakened by the butt o f a
nearly took off my ear. I was too pike prodding my rib cage.
tired even to curse. “Up, you ,” Tallguard grow led,
A lone rider pulled up before the urging again with his pike.
stocks and stared as if to make a I stirred. I was unstocked! My
study o f me. He looked plump and legs were free! For one flashing mo
prosperous— a grocer, an accoun ment I saw m yself ru n n ing on
those legs away from Haresbury, H is Worship, nay, dem ands that
out o f K ent altogether, into the His Worship attend him.”
great forest, or running w est to This was not the response I had
Wales or north to Scotland, out expected.
running the horses and the hue “There is no ju stice here, is
and cry at m y heels. there?” I said. “I didn’t see him ride
T h e n I tr ie d to s ta n d and b y”
couldn’t. “Not see him,” Tallguard said.
“Maybe we should ju st leave him “Goddes bones, man, you unhorsed
here,” said Fatguard with hope1 in him. Well thrown.”
his voice. The rose withered and turned to
Tallguard bent for m y right arm. dust and blew away on hot winds.
“You heard the justice. H e wants The plump little fork-bearded gro
him jailed.” cer tumbling off his mount? Jus
“The justice'?” I said. Had he come tice of the peace? I was a dead man.
while I slept? Hope blossomed in Tallguard reached for me. “W hat
my breast like a rose in the desert. kind of ju stice is that?” I yelled
They hooked their elbows under crabbing backwards away from his
my arm s and dragged m e to my grasp.
feet. “Can you walk or not?” said “Oh, just shut up,” he said, and
Tallguard, trying to jerk me into gave me a great clout to the head
balance. that spun m e into blackness.
“M in d how you han dle me,” I
said. I awoke dead in H ell with the
He released me and I crumpled devil himself peeling m y eyeballs. I
to the mud. tried to fight him off.
“This is the king’s ju stice, not “Here, now,” the Devil said.
your local constable,” I said as Tall “He’s alive,” said one o f his De
guard reached to drag m e to my mons.
feet again. “H e won’t sanction this Alive! Worse than dead, then. I
treatment.” had been carried living, body and
Tallguard straightened and soul, straight into Hell. I never
sm iled. “Oh, I don’t think he’ll thought m y sins so great nor
mind.” heavenly ju stice so unm ixed with
“Oh, no? Well, call him out here mercy.
then and let him see me.” “Sit on him , William, afore he
“W ell, W illiam , w h at do you hurts somebody.”
think? Should we call His Worship The Demon William did then sit
the justice out so he can get a look upon my chest, and I could not
at this ragbag?” breathe. I could feel m y piked ribs
“Well,” said Fatguard, scrunch grating. 1 fought to remove him but
ing up his brows, “ I don’t know.” Demons are not lightly moved and
“Oh, I think we should. I think I had little strength. A ball o f fire
we should tell His Worship that the flew at my naked eyes.
prisoner in our charge summons “ Here, you , listen now,” said
Flame. “We needs to show His Wor had been on for what seemed h a lf
ship that you’re not dead, under my life. It was no surprise to me
stand? We needs to show that we that I would end my life here for
didn’t kill you.” Flame sounded very som ething I had not done, or for
much like Tallguard—cruel humor, unhorsing the wrong man with a
I thought, to use on a man ju st m udball. I had so often escaped
damned. punishm ent for things I had done
Flam e moved and I could see that I supposed it w as ju stice,
faces floating and glowing in the som ehow— God setting things to
pitch o f Hell. They drifted aside for right again. O r maybe ju st fickle
His Worship’s face, Satan’s face, Fortune spinning her wheel, en
with its plump cheeks and forked joyin g m y little tragedy. It didn’t
beard and eyes like sparking flint matter. I didn’t care.
that burned into my soul. I stopped Fatguard arrived. “Is he clean
struggling. I knew it was no use. yet?”
His Worship’s face floated away. “Clean enough for killing,” Tail-
“See that he comes to no further guard answered.
harm ,” He said to His Minions. So this was it, then. Straight to
“Bring him to Me after prime. Wash my death on a sodden morning. I f
him up a bit first. He smells.” I wasn’t in Hell now, I soon would
Flam e and the faces floated be.
away. They dragged me across the mud
I slipped back into blackness, sur o f the market square to the door
prised that Satan was so fastidi way o f what passed for a town hall,
ous and that he kept time by canon where they let me drip for a while.
ical hours. Every shiver ignited my broken
ribs or my bruised head. I had nev
The next m orning Tallguard er been so cold, not even in the dead
dragged me out into the rain and o f winter.
told me to stand until the stink A servant appeared in the door
washed off. He stood sheltered in a way. “The justice will see you now.”
doorway, leaning on his pike, rain I tried to stand straight as the
water dripping from the ends o f his guards pushed me back into m y
long mustache. I understood then nightmare.
that I had spent the night in the Three men were breaking fast at
gaol again, although that did not a trestle table backed to a fireplace
mean that I had not been taken to so great that it seemed another por
Hell too, or that I wasn’t dreaming tal into Hell and the men seemed
now. sitting in a fiery antechamber, vis
The iciness o f the rain convinced iting God’s earth, looking for souls,
m e that this was either no dream, finding mine.
or that Hell could be frost as well And indeed, the one in the mid
as fire. It didn’t m atter which. dle was His Ijordship Satan, the
Haresbury was just the last sorry Devil him self from the; night be
stop in a long downward trail I fore. Forkbeard, the unhorsed ju s
tice. He looked me up and down as Richard the Second.” H e paused

if I were a pisspot indeed. and dipped another bit o f bread. “I
I felt my will d rain ing to the have a question to put to you.”
dregs o f my broached tun. I was for “I did not kill this man, milord.”
it now, trussed and plucked and Forkbeard leaned back. “A con
ready. jurer? To know the question before
He waved a crust o f bread my it is asked?”
way. “This is the man, Constable?” Tallguard pushed me from be
U n less. . . hind. I staggered a step or two clos
“Yes, milord,” said Tallguard. er to the table.
“M aster Coroner?” “May I have leave to ask m y
“Yes, milord” said th e m an to question now?” Forkbeard said.
Forkbeard’s right. ‘Y ou r pardon, milord,” I m u t
U n less. . . tered, face low.
“Milord Mayor?” He leaned toward me. “The ques
“This is the man,” said the man tion I have to put to you is this—
to Forkbeard’s left. have you eaten of late?”
Unless he might not recognize I must have been struck dumb,
me washed clean. I kept my face for Tallguard shoved me again. “A n
bent as if in shame and humility. swer his lordship, dog.”
Forkbeard dipped his crust into “No, milord.”
his wine and took a contemplative Forkbeard ripped a fist o f bread
bite. His wine was steaming. My from the loaf, dipped it in his steam
stomach snarled. I w as shivering ing beaker, held it toward me.
still. My ribs ached. A drop o f wine fell from bread to
“You, Adam o f Cranesfield, stand table. It fell, it seemed, slowly, as i f
accused,” said Forkbeard . . . suspended from the finger o f an an
“Cranefield, milord,” I said before gel. It caught the fire’s flickering
I knew I had opened m y mouth. I as it fell, it glowed and sparked like
could not believe I’d said it, nor a ruby, a carbuncle, a pearl o f blood.
could anyone else. They all stared, It was at that m om ent that I
frozen in position. “T h at is, milord, found I wanted to live. N ot the best
Adam o f Cranefield, n ot C ranes o f motives, perhaps— desire for an
field. Milord. Begging your pardon.” other mouthful o f decent wine, for
The justice dabbed his lip and dry clothes and good bread and a
leaned back over th e docum ent bed with no fleas, for warm sum and
from which he was reading. ‘You, warm women, for cheeses and
Adam o f Cranefield . . . ” h e paused grapes and venison hissing on the
and raised his eyebrows at me. spit.
“Yes, milord,” I said, looking at “Well?” said Forkbeard. “D o you
m y m uddied feet. “T h an k you, want it?”
milord.” ‘Yes, milord. Thank you, milord.”
“ ... stand accused o f the murder I tried not to look like a dog indeed
o f Sir Stanyarde Fisher, lately as I ate it, but it seemed to leap
made knight by His M ajesty King whole into my mouth. Hippocras!
Good wastel bread sopped in hip- “It’s that high and mighty ju s
pocras! Jesu be praised! A kind jus tice, isn’t it?” Tallguard answered
tice. I had some hope to live after in a q u iet voice h e supposed I
all. He did not recognize me. couldn’t hear. “He’s what’s causing
“Did you aim yestere’en at me or all the trouble. He says we haven’t
at my mount?” kept him w ell and h e holds us re
The bread congealed in my sponsible.” H e got his hands un
mouth. I could not chew or swallow der m y sh oulders and strained.
or spit it out. I began to choke, and “Up w e go, Adam. Give us a hand,
the m en at table recoiled as if I William.”
would vomit, and Tallguard spun They propped me between them.
me away from them. And in truth “There’s a good lad. Feeling better?”
my head swam, and I swayed on I tried to nod. I did prefer this
my feet, and then it seemed that I Tallguard to the old.
was steady and the room was sway “That’s good, that’s very good. If
ing, then that the room was the bel you won’t die, I’ll bring you a nice
ly o f a tossing ship and I was on my bit o f soup made by my wife’s own
way again to France, pitching across hands, eh?”
the channel, smelling of sea salt and The th ou gh t o f soup sent the
rusting mail and horse dung. world spum ing again.
I fell to m y knees and vomited . “But if you die,” Tallguard said as
Benches at table grated across I fell to m y knees, “Fll make sure
the floor. “Get him out of here, con you regret it.”
stable!” At that moment, dying was the
And then I was hunched in the last thing I would have regretted.
mud and rain, heaving whatever They spent a fair bit o f time get
remained in the depths o f my body, ting me presentable. I tried to sleep
which by then was mostly noise. through m ost o f it. But at last I
Fatguard stood with his back found m yself entering town hall
turned, trying not to vomit himself. clean o f the worst o f the dirt and in
M y fit passed finally, and I lay down dry clothes. The Hellmouth fire had
in the mud and tried to sleep. long since burned to glowing coals
“You. Adam . Up.” Tallguard. I and sunlight lanced through a few
could not have risen even had I high w indow s. Instead o f food,
wanted, and what I wanted was to spread on the board were my mea
stay right where 1 was. He could ger possessions. Behind them stood
kick as much as he pleased. coroner, mayor, and Forkbeard, the
But he didn’t kick. He squatted justice o f the peace.
beside me and shook my shoulder. “These are you rs?” Forkbeard
“Adam,” he said more gently now. said.
“See here,” he said, “they’re blaming A ragged cloak and hood, faded
me if you die. So you can’t die on blue long before I stole them; a scrip
me.” with bits o f leather for mending
“W h o’s blaming you?” said Fat- boots, needle and thread, some can
guard. “Sure, not the mayor?” dle ends, a crust o f bread, a flint and
steel, three bowstrings; a quiver father-in-law or lender o f money

w ith five arrows, headed and given the job to bumble his way
fletched; a short dagger; a long through Kent and line his pockets
W elsh dagger; m y longbow. in the process.
I pointed to the W elsh dagger. Forkbeard lifted my bow and
“A ll but that, my lord. I took that turned it in a shaft o f light. “This is
from the dead knight.” a fine bow. Indeed, I have rarely
“You see?” said the mayor. “He seen its like.” He looked at me. “Sto
adm its to thievery. Let him be len.”
hanged.” “No, milord. A gift.”
“Indeed, Master Justice,” said the “Such a bow. The giver must have
coroner, “he might as well hang for thought much o f you.”
theft as for murder.” I was absurdly pleased.
“W hy are we so anxious,” said “Are you a good archer?”
Forkbeard as if seriously asking, “I have, milord, the benefit o f the
“to see a man hanged before we giver’s training but neither his
have heard his stoiy?” hand nor eye.”
“Really, Master Justice,” the may “Nor speech, I wager,” Forkbeard
or said, “a vagrant, a stranger is said.
caught stealing from the man he I had grown careless. With Tail-
has ju st killed. W hat story can he guard I had sounded like Tail-
tell?” guard; good, it aroused no suspi
“And who knows what mischief cion, but in talking to Forkbeard I
he was up to,” the coroner said. ‘Tor had slipped into Forkbeard’s man
all we know he is one ofW at Tyler’s ner of speech. I hadn’t made that
m en come to start another Rising, mistake with mayor nor coroner.
O r maybe he is . . . ” Too late to dissem ble now. “No,
“It was good that you sent for milord. He was som ew hat. . . ”
me,” said Forkbeard in a surpris “God’s death!” blasted a voice be
ingly strong voice, “and I thank you, hind me. “Longbows and speech?
M aster Coroner, for doing so. You You are right, Master Justice. You
m ay be right. There may be more know no shortcuts. You know only
here than it appears. Be assured, if the long ways. I f you must com
after this inquiry I agree that this plete some legal nicety here, get on
m an should be bound over for trial, with it and do not waste the time o f
so shall he be. And then if convict good men with such trifling.”
ed, you will be free to hang him as The voice had risen out o f his
often and as high as you please. chair on the far wall and strode
B ut you’ll forgive me, sirs, if I pro m ajestically toward Forkbeard,
ceed slowly. I am but new at the who looked more like a grocer than
task and have not yet learned the ever as Sir Eustace de Witte leaned
shortcuts.” over the board at him. “Are we
I saw hope once again. This was ready now to hear his story?”
not some hack made justice as pa Here it was, then. Sir Eustace,
tronage, not somebody’s nephew or the knight o f the manor, on one
side, the crown’s justice on the oth did not delude h im self about w h y
er. My fate lay between them. he took up arms. It was perhaps
“Yes,” said Forkbeard, “certainly. that terrible h on esty th a t a p
Your pardon, Sir Eustace.” pealed to me.
M y hopes fell. Forkbeard could 1 told th em none o f that, o f
stand toe-to-toe with the local course. W hat I told them was that
burgesses, but not with a knight, I was traveling through Kent seek
not with the local gentry. He would ing employment.
bow to whatever Sir Eustace want What kind, they wanted to know.
ed. And Sir Eustace wanted me Are you skilled?
dead. I have a strong back and a will
All but the justice had heard my ing spirit, I said.
story; all had called m e already a They laughed.
liar, an atheist, a French spy, “Your story, so please you,” the
Welsh spy, Scottish spy, Irish spy, justice said.
and a member o f a Free Company, I told him that as I took the road
and while there was less truth in to H aresbury through the forest
what they said than they feared, near, a glint o f metal in the dis
there was m ore than they be tance caught my eye, and I saw a
lieved. I did not tell them that I horse, saddled, grazing on young
was wayfaring in their fair county leaves at a bend ahead. His reins
on m y way to the coast to wrangle hung loose, nor did I see a tether. I
passage to France and, in fact, join guessed he had thrown his rider,
with a Free Company, preferably who might be injured nearby.
Hawkwood’s White Company, not I came slowly to the horse so not
that I fancied being a free lance or to scare him off, and he let m e ap
a brigand, depending on you r proach. I took the reins and stroked
point o f view, but I didn’t fancy be his neck. Truly it was a fine saddle
ing much o f anything at that stage I saw, inlaid with silver and curi
o f my life. I had no property, no ously worked, the saddle o f a noble.
land, since my father had given But I saw no one.
m y inheritance and him self—and I called, but heard no answer. I
me— to God. I had no wife or chil called again and thought I heard a
dren, no friends worth seeing, no moan down the road. I tethered the
ties to any one, place, purpose, or horse, tried to find w ho had
thing. I had only the possessions moaned, but the road was empty. I
spread before the justice. A nd called again and heard the moan off
while I was not unlearned and had in the brush to m y left.
some abilities, I knew too much of I found him a dozen yards o ff the
the church to be priest, friar, or road, lying on his belly. He was in
monk; cared too little for politics to deed a noble in fine clothes, but
seek my fortune in the royal bu they were red with his blood— a
reaucracy; and had seen too much hard fall he had taken, I thought, or
o f righteous war to fight for any he had been pitched into a tree. I
king again. At least Hawkwood knelt beside him and rolled him
gently towards me. H is face told the flat o f Your Worship’s blade to
me he was but dead. I tried to rouse the back o f m y head, many thanks
him, but he had only breath for one to Your Worship for not using the
last moan. I laid him back to earth, edge.”
wiped the blood from m y hands in “As I should have done,” Sir Eu
the dirt, closed his eyes with finger stace said, “and saved us all this
and thumb. trouble. For you see, Master Justice,
“And said a prayer, I suppose,” after he was down I found the
Sir Eustace said. Welsh knife that I knew belonged
“Aye, milord,” said I, “I started a to my friend and fellow knight, Sir
prayer for his soul b u t then I Stanyarde Fisher. A nd had this
stopped for I saw that the gash on rogue been conscious when I found
his head w as cleanly made. The it, he would be dead now.”
wound w as not ragged, not the The justice turned to the mayor.
wound o f a fall. I raised his bloody ‘You said, Sir Mayor, that you ex
shirt and found a clean wound in amined this man yourself?”
his belly, a thrusting sword wound, “After I received the constable’s
and knew that he had been killed report, I had this man repeat his
by no accident, and knew too that tale before m yself and the coroner.”
his attacker could not be far. The “And is this the story he told you
dead man had that long knife at his then?”
side. I drew it slowly as I knelt and “Aye, in essence and details.”
hid it in a fold o f my cloak before “Master Coroner,” Forkbeard the
rising, hoping to pass unharmed by justice said, “did you find the
those w ho had ambushed him, rob wounds as he described them?”
bers, most like, who m y approach “I did, milord, and two wounds on
had interrupted and w h o lurked the back—one thrusting, one slash
close by. Poverty walks the forest ing. He was attacked from behind.”
without fear, it is said, but I was The justice tapped his chin. “As he
afraid. I was minded to cut straight fled?” He phrased it as a question,
through the trees b u t fearful I but no one responded. He turned to
might stumble into the murderers, me. “And you say you unsheathed
so I m ade the road and started the long knife for protection.”
down it.” “Aye, milord, I was in fear . . . ”
And here I had to address Sir He waved his hand. “I ask wheth
Useless. “And there before me was er or no you unsheathed the knife.”
a man, a nobleman, on horseback, A trick question? A snare I was to
Your Lordship, Sir Knight. And see spring?
ing m y bloody shirt, Your Worship “Well?” the justice said.
ordered m e to halt, and not know “Aye, milord. I did unsheathe it.
ing Your W orship were a knight, He wore it here, on his right side.”
Sir Knight, and fearing for my life, “And where was his sword?”
I crashed into the w ood s w here “On his left side, milord.”
Your Lordship chased m e on horse ‘You saw it?”
back and brought me down with “Aye, milord.”
“In its scabbard?” “Ah,” said the justice, and let it go

“Aye, milord. When I turned him, at that. Even I knew the nam es o f
I...” two o f King Richard’s upstart fa
H e turned before I finished. “Sir vorites, unpopular with the old no
Eustace? You found it so?” bility. B est not to talk about the
“I did.” king’s chamber, especially before
The justice turned his gaze to the strangers. “So, then to recount—
coals. “I wonder he did not defend Sir Stanyarde had not had the ben
himself.” efit o f experience in battle or tour
His back was to the townsmen. I ney, and so when confronted by a
saw them exchange glances. w ayfarer armed with u nstrung
“I f he did not defend himself” the bow and short dagger, he wheels
justice continued, “it is like that he his horse and flees and is pursued
was wounded in the back as he fled, by the wayfarer, who outruns the
and that the wounds to face and horse and with his dagger inflicts
torso came after he was unhorsed. grievous wounds on the head and
O r perhaps,” and here he began body o f Sir Stanyarde.”
acting out the movements, a dumb Th ere was silence again. Oh,
show, “the slash to the face first, most noble justice, thought I. Oh,
he flees, is wounded and unhorsed, Prince o f Justices.
and then dies from the belly thrust. “It w as never said he acted
W hat say you? Was Sir Stanyarde alone,” said Sir Eustace.
like to flee a fight?” “H e had accomplices,” said the
There was a long moment o f si mayor.
lence. “H e was caught only because he
The mayor said, “Sir Stanyarde was unmounted,” Sir Eustace said.
w a s .. “The others fled when they noted
The coroner said, “He was a most my approach.”
free and noble . . . ” ‘Y ou heard their horses, then?”
Sir Eustace overrode them both. the justice asked.
“H e was a courtier knight. The on “Outlaws do not gallop into a for
ly red his sword knew was rust.” est th ick with trees. Th ey u n
“But he rode armed like a fight doubtedly slinked away w hile I
ing man,” said the justice. “Did he pursued this their spy, whom they
wear a knight’s spurs?” abandoned. Indeed, I w ould say
“Aye,” said Sir Eustace with bit that this one was key to their am
terness, “and great golden things bush, that he distracted Sir Stan
they were.” yarde on the road by feigning injury
“He loaned the Crown a great or illness, and when Sir Stanyarde
sum,” said the mayor. reined up, he was set upon by the
“And by that received his knight rest o f the gang.”
hood,” said the justice. “Aye, that is very like,” said the
“And he is distant kin to Simon mayor. “He used the same trick on
Burley and knows Robert de Vere,” John B utcher’s boy and nearly
said Sir Eustace. killed him.”
“I did no s u ch .. etly. “W e have no p roof th a t he

“O r perhaps,” said Sir Eustace, killed S ir . . . ”
“h e unhorsed Sir Stanyarde with a “I f not this man, then who?”
well-aimed stone. He has som e skill Not even I could answ er that
there, I believe. And perhaps hav question.
in g unhorsed Sir Stanyarde, he The justice sighed. “Sir Eustace,
him self mounts and rides Sir Stan he must be released.”
yarde down on his own horse.” “I say thee nay.”
The justice frowned. “T h at he can The challenge was direct now,
unhorse a mounted m an I can well crown versus town, but here town
attest,” he said. “However, Sir Stan- wore a sword and crown wore only
yarde’s sword was sheathed when a short dagger and a long knife,
you found him, Sir Eustace. Did and the thin cloak authority— a
you find another sword naked?” new justice, a still-new king, a new
“You do not mean to let this vil knight dead.
lain go?” Sir Eustace said. “Sir Eustace,” the justice said,
“ I f no sword, were there then starting to sound more patronizing
signs o f a gang?” said the justice to than patient, “there is nothing here
all three. “Hoofprints in and out o f for me to present to a jury. There
the forest? Horse dun g to m ark were no witnesses, and .. ”
where the gang waited in ambus “There are clouds o f witnesses, by
cade? Was nothing taken by this God,” said Sir Eustace, “and I invoke
gang except this weapon? I f mount their aid.” He turned to face me.
ed men slew this knight, how is it “Thou are the murderer,” he said,
that you saw only this m an?” “and that I will prove on my body.”
“D o y ou say 1 lie ? ” U seless I almost laughed, so absurd it
growled. was. Even the justice seemed flum
“I say only. Sir Eustace,” said the moxed.
justice quietly, “that I cannot bind ‘Your pardon, Sir Eustace,” he
this man over for trial. H e could said. “Are you sayin g. . . ”
not him self have done . . . ” “I am invoking a trial by combat
“By Jesu, this is wrong. W hen my to settle this issue, as is my right.”
father and my grandfather before Sir Eustace turned to me. ‘You may,
him kept the peace here, no felon o f course, engage a cham pion to
would be coddled so. This man did fight in your stead, but if you in
foully kill a man made knight by deed are innocent, you will put your
that boy king, who is still our king, body at hazard. God has a stroke in
and you are the k ing’s justice eveiy battle. And if God is with you,
charged with keeping th e king’s who can be against you?”
peace. You must fulfill you r duties. I looked to the justice and did not
You cannot release him.” like the puzzled frown I saw.
The justice studied Sir Useless “Milord Justice,” I said, pleading.
as he had studied me, taking his He turned to me, the glint gone
m easure, gauging his response. from his eyes, the strength from
W hen he spoke, it was again qui his chin.
“Milord "said I. against Fatguard, not really, so I

“Guards,” said Forkbeard the did not strike with the manacles
Grocer. ‘T a k e him back.” but with m y fists bunched togeth
er, and even that w asn’t much o f a
Fittingly, the sun dimmed and blow. I hit him just behind the right
the rain began again as we left the ear and h e dropped like a sack o f
hall for the gaol. The square was barley, stunned, into the mud. I
crowded with people who had hur spun and ran out o f the square
ried out betw een storms, many down a narrow alley toward the
gathering around two carts that town wall. I thought to follow the
had locked their wheels and the wall to the gate and ju st walk out,
carters w h o w ere waving their hunched against the rain to hide
arm s and yellin g at each other my chains.
ankle-deep in mud. But as I reached the wall I heard
“Saints,’’ Tallguard muttered. “Be Fatguard’s outraged voice raising
that old N ed?” the hue and cry and Tallguard
One carter took a mighty swing shouting for the gates to be barred.
at the other and missed and fell So at the wall, I turned left, away
facedown in the mud. The crowd from the gate, heading deeper into
laughed. The rain fell harder. town, h oping to find a sally port or
“Aye,” Fatguard said, “And that’s to scramble up a low point in the
Tom Grinder drunk again.” wall and ju m p to freedom. But I
“Drunk still, you mean. I best came to stables built hard against
break this up before the knives the wall and the narrow way twist
come out. Watch this one.” He hand ed back toward town and crooked
ed Fatguard his pike and stalked and split so that I lost my bear
across the square yelling for peace; ings.
Tom Grinder aimed a kick at old I stopped at a junction o f tight
Ned and went down himself. lanes.
Fatguard laughed. “Two such I knew I was for it now. I could
popinjays you never saw. Ned fights hear the hue and cry running up
to prove he’s still a man and Tom to the m u ddy alleys, baying like
prove he’s become one.” hounds alm ost on the boar, and ea
Tallguard reached the combat ger to have at me with cudgel or
ants and hauled Tom out o f the kitchen knife, sword or pike. Then,
mud and yelled, while behind him beneath th at fury, I heard the
old N ed struggled to hands and sound o f a bell tolling and across
knees, and Tom shoved Tallguard weedy thatch in the drizzle I could
back across the old man and into ju st m ake out a grey com er o f the
the m ud him self. The crowd squat tower o f the parish church.
cheered. I ran dow n the lane that seemed
“Damnation,” said Fatguard. to lead m ore or less in the right di
It cam e dow n to hitting Fat rection.
guard or facing the lance o f Sir Eu I stumbled into the square, the
stace de W itte. I had nothing church on m y right. Down the
square to m y left a cry went up as “Do you call this justice?” Sir Eu
I was spotted. I ran for the church, stace demanded.
through the m ud and up the stone The priest said something about
steps. I yanked open the church God’s mercy and God’s justice. The
door, and there stood the justice, justice said nothing I could hear.
his sword leveled at m y throat. A s he left, Sir Eustace pointed
I thought I was but dead. his sword at me and warned that
I look over at him now as he sits, h e would show what real justice
more frail than he should be, fight was if I poked so much as my great
ing sleep beside his smoking can toe beyond the church door.
dle, and I marvel at w hat has come
to pass since we stood before that Taking no chances, I slept that
church, the point o f his sword prick night clutching the altar. The priest
ing the soft triangle o f flesh above w oke me before Mass and kindly
m y breastbone, the guards and Sir accompanied me to his garderobe
Eustace closing in, followed by a th en returned me to the altar.
crowd fresh from the carters’ fight, M ass, he told me later, when he
eager for more. I looked down into brought me some stale wine and a
his face, into his grey eyes as he hunk of barley bread, was excep
looked up his blade into mine, wait tionally well attended that morn
ing for what was coming, as still as ing, and he thanked m e for bring
the figures carved above the church ing so many back to God. I had met
door w ho poised, as did we, on the few priests with a sense o f humor.
edge o f some event, in the moment I tried not to like this one.
o f a revelation, at the fork o f un I spent some tim e leaning
certain choices. against the altar contemplating my
Then I felt the sword point ease position. It was, I came to see, bet
a hair and I jerked m y head to the ter than I had any right to hope. I
side and snapped my manacles up had forty days o f sanctuary before
and the chain knocked the blade I would be forced out by the justice
aside, and before the justice could or Sir Useless. But any time before
recover I charged into him with that point I need only take my oath
low ered head and shoulder and o f abjuration, make m y way to the
knocked him down. Then I was in nearest port, and sail away from
the church running for the altar, England forever— w hich was in
yelling for the priest, claiming sanc sooth my purpose before stumbling
tuary. across the dead knight. Fortune,
I w as cowering behind the altar bitch goddess, was smiling on me
when Sir Eustace burnt in, waving once more. It were best to act while
his sword. The justice tried to in her brief favors were mine. I would
terpose him self between us, but he forswear my country as soon as
gave ground until the priest final that fool o f a justice made an ap
ly scurried in, and Sir Eustace, pearance.
caught betw een the threats o f Which he did late that day, after
crown and cross, stopped shoving. vespers, with better fare than I had
tasted in som e time. H e set be “How is your Latin?”

tween us on a bench a flagon o f So the wind was in that door. He
that brilliant wine, a loa f of fine next would ask if I could read the
wastel bread, a pair o f cheeses, and requisite verses. I smiled. “I will not
a bowl o f thick rabbit stew. He let claim benefit o f clergy.”
me bolt and swill for a time before He frowned. “You could walk free
tearing off bread for him self and from this church today.”
asking, “W hy do you claim sanctu “I could trade king’s justice for
ary for a crime you did not com canon’s justice, you mean. I thank
mit?” you, m y lord, but I will not put m y
I chewed a moment, trying to fate into the hands o f m other
gauge his meaning. Then I rubbed church.”
the scratch at the base of m y “She is like to be more reasonable
throat. “W hy do you draw you r than this crowd.”
sword on innocent men?” “So you w ould think, had you
H e laughed. “You are no va g never had such dealings w ith
abond.” them. ”
“And you no grocer, m y lord.” ‘Y ou have had such dealings,
“Vintner,” he said. “M y father im then. And you would rather fight
ported wines. I’m in the business Sir Eustace?”
still.” “N either choice likes me, and it’s
I raised m y cup to him, and a stupid hare that has only one
drained it. hole. I thank you for trying to aid
‘You understand that this is not me, but, by your leave, m y Lord
the outcome I intended,” he said, re Justice, it is you who owes thanks
filling my cup. “I thought to laugh to me, for I have solved your prob
you out o f trouble by showing how lem, and mine own.”
absurd their accusations were. A t He waited for me to go on.
any rate, I hope to have you safely ‘T o wit: a man has been m ur
on your way soon enough. Though dered; you have caught a likely
I’m not sure how to stop this chal malefactor; you know him to be in
lenge from playing itself out.” nocent, but he has claimed sanctu
“My lord, you are not serious, ary, thereby, as you so implied, con
surely. I mean, my lord, trial by firming suspicions o f his guilt. So
combat? Is it still done?” you can release an apparently
“More often than you think, ap guilty man in a town that wants
parently. But we have other ways, him hanged, or you can hang an ap
I think, to extricate you from this.” parently guilty man you know to be
Then for a moment he stared at innocent. Hardly justice.”
me. ‘You have your letters, then?” “Hardly so.”
he said at last. “But, if the innocent malefactor
It was pointless to deny it. “I can will take his oath o f abjuration and
read.” sail away, he takes all the ambigu
“And write.” ities o f justice with him, and you
“And write, aye.” will be left with, apparently, a crime
solved, a criminal exiled, and satis including me. H e wanted to hear o f

faction for town and crown. A suc how earnestly I took to my training,
cess, my lord. A feather in your new straining to out-Augustine Augus
cap. But indeed you need not tine. He wanted to know how I
thank me more— these cheeses are failed. This and more I could have
thanks enough.” told him.
“You would forswear England?” “My father had a vision,” I said,
“It was m y intent to leave before “and here I am.”
I happed upon that unfortunate He came from a different direc
knight. A t least now I w on’t have to tion. “Whom did your father serve
seek passage, since it will be pro in France?”
vid e d ” I raised my eyes to him. “We were
“You think it better in France?” with Edward, th e Black Prince.
“France is nothing to me. I go to Among other places, at Limoges.”
France because th a t’s where His eyes widened and he sat up.
Hawkwood is.” “Were you, by God?”
His eyes narrowed. “You want to So he knew Limoges.
join a band o f pillagers?” “And you enjoyed Lim oges so
“Pillagers, soldiers,” I said with much that you want to join Hawk
heat. “H awkwood doesn’t cloak his wood? The son o f a knight, trained
looting and m urder in Jesu’s robes with lance and sword and, appar
and claim divine justice.” ently, with bow. Without at least
H e leaned forward. “You’ve been these skills what condotierri would
to France. You’ve seen war.” have you? A nd yet, young and
H e surprised m e by seeing that. strong and not unskilled, you will
“I was my father’s squire,” I said, not face an old knight who wrong
though I was m ore groom than ly accuses you? Do you not believe
squire at age twelve. that God has a stroke in every bat
“A knight’s son. H ow came you to tle?”
this end?” I snorted. “If H e did, why would
H e wanted m e to tell him about we need the law? We could throw
m y father, th e lan d -p oor knight dice for justice, and God would give
whom I could never please, about the match to the righteous.”
his seijeant, the archer, w ho had He stood. “You’re neither fool nor
cut down the French aristocracy at child, but you sound young. M y ad
Poitiers and Crecy and w ho taught vice to you is to work with me in un
m e how to u se the longbow and tying this knot. Think on it. I’ll re
w h y to respect it. H e w anted to turn. I do not think you will rejoice
know who m y m other was and how in forswearing England for H awk
she fought m y father and took lov wood.”
ers, so the cook said, to spite him. I called to him down the aisle.
H e wanted to know h ow m y father “At least H awkwood is honest
sacrificed us for his faith after his about what he does.”
vision, taking the cowl and giving The justice turned at the church
all that he had to m other church, door. “So it’s honesty you prize. I f
you do leave England, then don’t m ake m y way out o f town. The
stop in France. Hawkwood is in moon was down, the guard likely
Italy. Florence, I hear. Perhaps sleeping. I wrapped the last o f the
Rome, if he is alive still. His band o f cheeses in m y shirt and eased into
pillagers has not been called the the churchyard. Let them look for
W hite Company for some years. me in Wales.
They hired themselves out to the I was caught, o f course, caught,
pope. They call themselves the Holy beaten, and dragged to the gaol in
Company. Honestly, I assume.” irons.
Behind him he shut the church “We caught him tiying to escape,
door, which echoed for a time like my lord,” said Tallguard with pride
distant thunder. when the justice arrived.
“You are mistaken, constable. He
I am not one who puts much was on his way to see me. He is un
stock in dreams or visions, not like der my warrant and free o f sanc
m y father the knight, but that tuary. He has agreed to meet Sir
night I dreamt again o f Limoges, o f Eustace in trial by battle. Haven’t
mother and babe skewered on one you, Adam o f Cranefield?”
spear, o f a headless corpse running I raised my head and squinted
three spouting steps, of a lad the from my one unswollen eye. “Aye,
age o f my younger brother then, good m y lord. That’s just w hat I’ve
sitting on the ground staring at his been trying to tell them.”
guts spilling into the dirt from his
open belly. I dreamt o f Hawkwood On the third day after, w hen I
and his men, tonsured and sword- was somewhat mended, the justice
girt, on snow-white horses, in snow- took me to see Sir Eustace. He rode,
white tunics with blood-red crosses. I walked, Tallguard riding armed
I dreamt I rode to join them and behind.
they cut m e to pieces, at which “To w h a t end, my lord, do we call
point, in the dead o f night, I woke upon Sir Useless?”
with a cry. The justice said nothing.
The Holy Company. “Perhaps we go buy him off?”
I knew I would not go to France. The justice reined up slowly and
I hated the justice then for throw looked dow n at me. He turned to
ing m y plans into confusion. The Tallguard. “Draw you o ff a way,
idea o f France had driven me down M aster Constable. I m ust needs
the length o f England, and now I speak to the prisoner alone.”
was afraid that neither France nor Tallguard hesitated.
Italy held any more promise for me “Stay armed, stay alert,” said the
than did the local law. So that par justice, “but stand by to that oak. If
ticular rabbit hole sealed itself he attacks me, you may ride him
closed. down and slay him.”
But I’d be damned for a dunce to Tallguard rode off. The justice
stay and fight a mad knight in sin turned back to m e and said we
gle combat. I decided it were best to would visit Sir Eustace to discom
fit him. He believed that Sir E u Prince Edward, God rest his soul.
stace had spoken in haste and an A t Limoges.”
ger w hen he made his accusation Sir Eustace lost his tongue. Fi
and his challenge and th at he nally he asked my father’s name.
might welcome a satisfactory way “Sir Ralph Medlar, Sir Eustace. We
out. H e also thought that it was were of a small holding in York,
easier for Sir Eustace to blame for near to Middleham.”
the murder a wandering stranger, “I knew your father not, I fear,”
a peasant, than it w ould be to Sir Eustace said. “But then the
blame the son o f a knight who had company was large. You were with
been in service to the Black Prince. Edward, you say, and at Limoges?”
“It will complicate Sir Eustace’s un “Aye, milord. And after, and be
derstanding o f what he has done fore.”
and will make his position less ten “A s was I,” he said. “Sir, you are
able. A nd so I hope to lead him to welcome.”
w ithdraw not only the challenge H e then called for his servants to
but the charges.” take me away, to draw me a bath,
It seemed to me to be an over- to dress my wounds, and to find m e
subtle play, but then my chess tend proper and clean attire. I caught
ed to the slash-and-bum school. the justice’s eye as they led m e
“Anything you can do to ingrati away. He had expected something
ate yourself,” he added, “will bene like this.
fit your cause.” I took my time in the bath, re
“Would it not have been more ex membering France. It was possible
pedient simply to encourage m e to I had seen Sir Eustace there, but I
France?” could not swear to it, and all my
The justice made a show o f con memories, and all my nightmares,
sidering this. “Yes,” he said finally. were those o f a skinny boy desper
He turned and called the constable, ate for a glory he never found,
and w e were on our way again. swept up by events he didn’t un
In the lawn below Sir Eustace’s derstand.
m anor we saw a score o f workers, The justice, though— he was
carpenters and groundsmen and moving events somehow, or people
smiths, overhauling a practice tilt- if not events. He played a slow and
yard. They were even constructing curious game, and while I wished
a short length o f viewing stands. him well, I felt as much a pawn
The justice grunted. “This may be here as I was across the channel. It
more difficult than I thought.” liked me not.
Sir Eustace received us discour The clothes the servants brought
teously until the justice said he had were simple and plain, but I had
some news which he knew Sir Eu not had a tunic o f so fine a weave in
stace would be glad of. ‘Y ou n g more than ten years. I liked the feel
Adam here is no peasant. He is the o f it.
son o f a knight, and he him self was Below, the table was spread with
his father’s squire in France. With food and drink, a feast. Sir Eustace
THE SCRIVENER S TALE 27
bade m e to take my nourishment eating slowly and listening to his

“from this poor fare.” I tried not to war stories, more tales o f Poitiers,
pile m y food too high, nor gulp the his days o f glory. I had heard tales
ale. o f Poitiers before from my father,
Sir Eustace was as warm now as who sounded m uch like Sir E u
he had been cold before. He was stace, and from m y bowmaster, my
full o f praise for Prince Edward and father’s sergeant-at-arms, who told
thought his untim ely death the me even when he put the short bow
worst catastrophe to befall Eng in my hands at six, that the long
land in his lifetime, the Pest in bow had brought down the French
cluded. He had been with the at Crecy and Poitiers, and that he
prince from the first, a young would sooner face an armed knight
knight at Crecy, then at Poitiers, in an arch er’s leather cap and
“where the French elite broke like jerkin with a stout longbow in his
waves on the solid stone o f the Eng hand than to ride the greatest de
lish army and the king o f France strier in the finest armor with the
him self was captured and brought sharpest lance and the stoutest
to England in triumph. We were a shield. “A rm or’s done for,” he would
different kingdom, then,” he said, tell me, “and them that wears it
his fist clenching, “and Prince Ed will be the last to see it.”
ward was the sum and substance of After the meal, as Sir Eustace
it all. Chivalry and nobility incar led us through his manor, the ju s
nate. One only had to look at him tice was circling Sir Eustace’s de
astride his war-horse in his black fenses, probing for a way to get
armor to understand what English him to withdraw the charges, or at
knighthood was.” least to back away from trial by
I too rem em bered Prince Ed combat.
ward, but supine on his litter, “I will have to put the case to the
swollen and splenetic before Limo king, Sir Eustace, since it involves
ges, pale and green after those long not only you, a respected knight o f
months o f siege when disease was the rea lm , b u t a n o th e r w h o is
as bad in our ranks as in the city; noble-bom . A nd all I shall be able
Edward, felled by some disorder, to offer is th at you challenged
croaking orders to put the people to Adam o f Cranefield because you
the sword and the city to the torch, believed th at ju stice m igh t go
turning aside pleas and counsel for astray since we have no witnesses
mercy. Limoges had not surren to the actual event. You felt that by
dered soon enough. Limoges had putting you rse lf at hazard, you
made him waste time at its gates. would be insuring that right pre
Limoges had to pay. vailed and justice was served.”
“Limoges was his last victory,” Sir Eustace cleared his throat.
Sir Eustace said. “Were he but king “Indeed,” he said slowly, “you put
now ...” the case well, save that you say this
Limoges had broken my family is ‘all’ you have to offer. Surely this
and my future. I held my peace, is enough.”
“So it would have been earlier, I ing whether to believe him or not.
believe, Sir Eustace. But now that Edward III, Joan o f Kent, and Rich
we know Adam to be noble-bom, a ard II? Was this a feint? Or was
squire, the son o f a k night who there a blade moving in under the
fought with your great captain, his shield?
protestation o f innocence, I’m sure Sir Eustace was asking him self
you w ould agree, carries more the same questions.
weight and must be m ore consid “Well, sirs,” he said finally, “i f it
ered. And since preparations seem would please His Majesty, I would
stirring to m ount a m ighty blow be willing, though reluctant, to
against the Scots, I fear that nei withdraw my challenge and let the
ther the king nor my I.-ord Buck king’s justice take its course.”
ingham will be inclined to sanction Well played, Justice, I thought.
a judicial trial when the basis is so “Excellent,” said the justice. “My
tenuous and the possible loss o f one sincerest thanks, Sir Eustace. I am
or two good men is so grave.” sure His M ajesty will be most
Sir Eustace was silent, rubbing grateful. Indeed, to ease your un
his chin. “W hat you say does make derstandable and worthy reluc
som e sense, Master Justice. I am tance, I am certain that Adam
inclined to agree that judicial bat would again offer surety o f his in
tle is not so clear a course as once nocence.”
it was, and though I do give more Before Sir Eustace could re
weight to the word o f a noble, I did spond, the justice turned to me.
catch him with red hands.” “Adam, son o f Sir Ralph Medlar of
“True, Sir Eustace. B ut had you Cranefield, I put it to you, on your
reached Sir Stanyarde before oath as a squire noble-bom, did you
A dam , I have no d ou bt that he bring harm or injury by any means
w ould have com e upon you with to Sir Stanyarde Fisher?”
red hands as you tried to help your “I swear to you, my Lord Justice,
fellow knight.” and to you, Sir Eustace, b y my
“Yes,” Sir U seless said slowly. name and birth, and on my father,
‘Yes. He would have.” who served your great captain
“Indeed, I believe the king would Prince Edward, God rest him, that
be grateful if you would withdraw I did no injury or harm whatsoev
you r challenge in this case.” er, by any means, to Sir Stanyarde
A t this Sir Eustace stopped and Fisher, God rest him, too.”
turned. Y o u pretend to know the “There,” said the justice. “And it
king, do you?” strikes me, Sir Eustace, that given
T h e ju stice nodded humbly. “I the new circum stances and this
have been so fortunate to know the new oath, the king’s justice might
king since his birth. I have provid be better served if you could see fit
ed som e small services to his grand to withdraw your charges alto
father, his mother, and to His gether. I do fear that, with so little
Majesty.” evidence, the charges will not stand
I stared at the justice not know in court.”
“I thank you for that oath,” said creant, and may God grant the
Sir Eustace to me, “but whether I right.”
believe you or no is no matter. I
cannot withdraw w hat I saw. “I wish you had not done that,”
Whether it stands or falls in court said the justice.
is not my concern.” “So, it would have been more ex
“Sir Eustace,” began the justice, pedient for m e to let m y betters
but Sir Eustace cut him off. take me where they would?”
“I am bound, Master Justice. I H e grim aced. “N either o f us
have my duties as a knight and as seems attached to the expedient.
a subject o f His Majesty. From this W e may live to regret that.”
I shall not be moved.” “A long life to us both, then. And
“Then,” said the justice, turning m y thanks, m y lord, for standing
to me, “he must have the law.” between m e and the wrath o f Sir
Damnation to you all, is what I Useless.”
thought. I wasn’t sure what web o f For indeed, when I challenged
legal niceties, local politics, courtly him , the old knight cam e at m e
intrigue, chivalric pomposity, and grasping for a blade and w ould
ignorance, arrogance, and fear had have tom m y throat with his teeth
thus snared me, but it galled me to h ad not the justice placed m e be
my core; it held me tight as did the hind him. To Sir Useless’s outrage
stocks, no, tighter, and more dead that I dare challenge him, the ju s
ly. The stocks held me fast with tice pointed out that I was the ac
honest wood, and when Tallguard cused, was noble-born, and was
hammered my ribs with the butt o f trained in arms. W here was the
his pike, I knew who had done it objection? I refrained from noting
and why, and how to avoid anoth to Sir Useless that he, a few days
er blow in future. But here, but ago, was willing to challenge a
th is ... peasant.
“We shall then take our leave,” I did say, “What choice have I, Sir
said the justice, “and leave our Eustace, if you will not withdraw
thanks, Sir Eustace.” He took my el your charges? I assure you that you
bow. are mistaken in those charges, but
Enough! I know too that you believe them,
I snatched my elbow free. as do others. And yet I know m y in
“Hold!” I said. Both men stood as nocence, and so I ask you this: On
statues. “Sir Eustace, will you not which court should I depend to re
withdraw your charge against m e?’ veal the truth, the court o f man or
His face burned. “Hold thy the court o f God?”
tongue, thou varlet! Thou speakest Sir Useless had no rejoinder.
to thy better.” “Good,” said the justice, seizing
“Then I defy thee,” I said, “and I the moment, “we are agreed. Be
thee deny, and thy charges, and I fore we further in this pace, I still
will prove on thy body and on mine must needs go to London to seek
own that thou art a liar and a m is approval from the court. T hat
granted, we shall attend the details and smiled. Fighting Sir Eustace
in this matter. Are w e agreed?” was better than facing a jury o f lo
We were, and we left Useless stiff cals who missed Sir Moneybags,
and sputtering. but leaving Haresbury was still
I told the justice th at I did not best of all. I slipped a dagger into
know the king’s leave w as needed my belt at my back. I slid a dirk in
in such a dispute. to my boot.
“In this case, I had rather ask “Here,” said the justice, handing
permission than forgiveness. Rich m e a breastplate. “See how this
ard does not like surprises.” likes you.” I shrugged m y arm s
“But he will give his leave, will he through the shoulder straps and
not?” cinched it tight. It liked me well. It
‘Since there are no witnesses, the was time. I would not hurt the ju s
case is doubtful, and therefore ap tice, for all that he had been kind
propriate. The com batants are no lier than I deserved, but I had at
ble-bom. It will be allowed. King least to disable him long enough
Richard could require the trial be for me to get away.
moved to court, where h e would of He led on, the lantern lifted before
ficiate, but other m atters are now him. I wrapped my fingers about
more pressing. Tom orrow I’ll be off, the hilt of a sword long and solid.
but first I must dispose somehow of To this day I do not know what
you.” happened. What I know is that I
I managed to dispose o f myself, was suddenly on my back on the
though exactly in the w ay that he dirt floor, my sword a im pinned un
intended. derfoot, the tip o f a sword at my
In order to Defend the Right, I throat and its hilt in the hand o f the
needed four things— arms, practice, justice, who leaned over me, all his
food, and rest. For th e arms, the plump grocer weight ready to pin
justice got the keys to the town ar m y neck to the earth.
m ory and dism issed Tallguard, “These are dangerous times,” he
thanking him for h is service al said in a voice as cold as ever I
ready performed that day. heard. ‘D o not make m e choose be
“You’re not like to find fine ar tween justice and m y own future. I
mor or weaponry,” said the justice, have survived the Pest, the French
raising the lantern as he led the wars, intrigue at court; I have been
way into the dimness, “but it will be a soldier, a diplomat, a royal spy; I
serviceable. Count on Sir Eustace knew the Black Prince; I know
to shine in im ported stuff.” He John Hawkwood; and I am friend
moved ahead, poking at a helmet, to John o f Gaunt, D uke o f L an
rubbing the rust on a sword be caster, King o f Castile, uncle to the
tween finger and thum b, and I fol king, and leading magnate in all o f
lowed thinking “th ird tim e pays England. If you run and I wish to
all.” I had tried to escape twice, had find you, where think you to hide?
failed twice, and here Dam e Fortu- I f you threaten my future, how long
na had once more spun her wheel to live?”
Later I realized that he knew I “It is your oath, is it not? Will you
would try to escape, that he en give it?”
couraged it by dismissing Tallguard “Aye, m y lord.”
and by keeping his back to me, “Then do so.”
playing the grocer. How he knew I swore that I would not try to es
just when and how to strike, I know cape again.
not. “N ow take this man’s hand and
“Constable,” he called, and Tall affirm that oath.”
guard was there instantly. “He has I extended m y hand. Slowly Tall
a blade or two more about him, I guard took it. “I swear to you, Con
think.” stable, I will not try to escape your
The sword point did not move as custody again.”
Tallguard knelt down and found He did not look convinced. I could
my dagger and my dirk. “Anything not blame him.
else?” he growled. “Good,” said the justice. “Now let
“No, I swear.” us get these arms to the gaol.”
He leaned across me and took Thus it cam e that I sat in a cell
the sword from my hand. with armor, sw ord, and buckler
The justice removed his foot from around me, a prisoner armed to the
my w rist and took a step back, teeth.
sword ready. “Constable, I am to The morning that the justice left,
London tomorrow, and this man Tallguard stood for a time watching
will be in your keeping. How you me arrange and handle my
keep him I leave to your discretion, equipage, w hich, in what light
save only that no harm may come fought through the narrow w in
to him unless he tries again to es dows, looked considerably worse
cape. You m ay deal with that as than it had in lantern light, but in
you will, and you may keep what truth, I was not concerned. I did
watch you deem appropriate. Keep not intend to depend on these arms.
him chained to the wall if need be. “So,” said Tallguard finally. “So.
Let him out to piss and to practice, You will fight Sir Eustace injudicial
unshackle a hand when he eats. I combat.”
rely on your good judgment.” I took this as a question and ex
“Aye, milord,” said Tallguard, a plained once m ore that I had no
smile glinting in his eye. “Thank choice, the tow n had judged m e
you, milord.” guilty, and I could understand since
“You. On your feet.” I was found with the dead man’s
I stood with what small dignity I blood and blade, but I was, truly, in
could muster. nocent o f this misdeed.
“I w ant your oath,” the justice “W ell, then ,” he said after m y
said, “that you will not try to es speech, “innocent or no, you won’t
cape again.” last long w ithout you practice
I did not know what to say. “My someplace.”
lord,” I managed, “you would ac He put me on my oath again, but
cept m y oath?” he had Fatguard stand with a
cocked crossbow ju st in case, and low him to offer the use o f his prac
w e set up a practice yard behind tice yard for my training. I would be
the gaol. In true daylight the arms welcomed to choose my equipage
looked bad indeed. from his persona] armory and to
“T hese’ll do for practice,” said avail m yself o f his sergeant-at-
Tallguard. “They’re not like to hurt arms from the French campaigns,
us, anyway.” w ho was som ething o f a sword-
So we spent the next little while master.
wanging away at each other with The steward stood still, appar
sword and buckler. They both grew ently awaiting my reply.
heavy quickly. I looked to Tallguard. “Is he seri
The ringing swords and thum p ous?”
in g shields attracted the curious “Sir Eustace is a hard man, if
from the square, m any o f whom Steward Aldergast will pardon me
wandered o ff when they realized saying,” he said, “quick to anger, a
that we were not going to let blood fell foe and deadly, but a fair man
on puipose. withal, and good as his word.”
I did not see him come in, but “So, then— you would take the
one o f the curious was Sir Eustace. offer.”
I turned to retrieve the sword that “Aye, I would. And it would be
Tallguard had knocked from m y old Hildeberd that would train you.
grip and there he was, leaning his None better.”
long face down from his horse as al A stonished though I was, I
ways, studying me, and likely feel thanked the steward and asked
in g m uch at ease about the u p when I should begin. He said mid
com ing duel, given w hat he had m om ing on the morrow.
seen o f my practice. I gave him a re
spectful nod and bent for my sword. And so it was that midmoming
W hen I stood, he had turned his next I was in the practice yard o f
palfrey back to the square. Sir Eustace de Witte, down by the
I grew to respect Tallguard that stables, being looked up and down
morning. I was winded early, and by a thin whip o f a man with a close
sweat-drenched, while he seemed grey beard and one eye half-closed
only flushed with exercise. Merci from a battle scar, so that he was
fully, he called a break m idmom ing forever winking at me.
before I collapsed completely. I “Take up that longsword,” he
thanked him for his help. It seemed said, pointing, “and let’s see your
to surprise him. guards.”
M y cell seemed wonderfully cool. It had been more than ten years
I slept. since I stopped regular sword work,
Tallguard roused me about noon. but the positions came back quick
“Visitor,” he said, and said no more, ly, almost as quickly as my breath
but stepped aside for Sir Eustace’s failed, for I was, in truth, still heal
steward. Sir Eustace, the steward ing and m y ribs did ache.
said, would be pleased if I would al Old Hildeberd shook his head at
m e as I leaned on m y sword and That w as reasoning I could un

tried to breathe. “H e’s been living derstand.
soft,” he said to Tallguard. I had no So my practice continued, and
voice to protest or defend myself. most was deeply familiar— lancing
“Again,” barked Hildeberd, and I the quintain, h ack in g the pell,
stood ready for him to call the drilling positions o f guard and at
guarding positions. “Ox. Plow. Fool. tack, wearing thick padding and
Roof.” thwacking away with blunt swords
We worked until noon and Tall which H ildeberd said “w on ’t cut
guard took me back to gaol, where your arm o ff but will dam n sure
I collapsed gratefully on my thin break your arm’s bones.” Tw o ses
pallet and snored the day gone un sions a day, midforenoon, midafter
til vespers. noon, and a bone-weary night at
“Get your stuff,” Tallguard said the inn, too tired to enjoy the plea
when he nudged m e awake, “and sures o f the common room or m y
come with me. We’re changing your notoriety, custom at the C on ey’s
habitation.” I expected something Tail havin g increased because I
worse than the gaol, but he led me boarded there.
to the Coney’s Tail, the best inn in But those training sessions were
tow n, w here Steward Aldergast not important to me, though they
waited for us with thin lips. He were im proving m y w ind and
said that Sir Eustace felt that I strength and skill. It was the early
needed a decent place to sleep, and morning sessions I cared for, when
to sleep undisturbed, and he had a reluctant Tallguard accompanied
therefore procured a small room me at first light to the town butts
for me that I need not share with and I strung my bow to get m y arm
other guests. I was also to partake and my eye back. I had no intention
o f the inn’s fare so long as it was o f meeting Useless lance to lance or
satisfactory. It had all been paid blade to blade. God’s stroke in this
for. battle would be m y longbow and a
Fortune was being far too good. I cloth-yard arrow.
knew not to trust her. “A fine bow,” said Tallguard one
“Steward Aldergast,” I said, “your morning. “Might I give it a pull?”
pardon, but I am overwhelmed by I handed him the bow. H e in
Sir Eustace’s generosity. If I may spected it, hefted it for weight and
ask, sir, why is it that he is doing balance, tested its strength. “Aye,”
this for me?” he said, notching an arrow, drawing
“His Worship is not in the habit his bead, loosing cleanly, hitting the
o f confiding such thoughts to me,” bull a full fifty yards away “A fine
the steward said with faintly dis bow.”
guised disdain, “but if you want my “A fine bowman,” I said, and I of
opinion, I would say that he wants fered to stand him an ale that eve
you well-fed, well-rested, and well- ning, “providing I can stay awake.”
practiced so that you may claim no We became friendlier. He was im
excuses for your losing.” pressed, I believe, that the son o f a
knight would deign to use a long wrapped my ribs tight before prac
bow. I did not tell him my intention. tice, archery or otherwise, and that
I said instead that th e practice did take strain o ff them. I was ad
strengthened m y arms and stead equate with the long sword, nearly
ied my eye and m y nerve. so with sword and buckler. The
“It does that,” he said. “I get into quintain still stung m e h a lf the
a rhythm-like, sometimes, and the time and my legs didn’t seem long
butt is as b ig as a b a m , and I enough to clamp the destrier that
couldn’t miss i f I tried.” Sir Eustace provided, truly a fine
After that he brought his own beast and a strong, almost as good
bow every m orning and w e made a as the one Sir Eustace h im self
contest o f it, and at night I’d stand would ride. I could not fault the
him an ale or a bite, and once he way I was being treated, or, to be
even took me to his hom e for that honest, the way Sir Eustace was
nice bit o f soup made by his wife’s treating me, i f I overlooked that he
own hands that he promised m e in wanted me hanged or dead by his
the mud what seemed like years own hand. H e often watched the
before. practice, at first from a distance,
A week went by and w e began to day by day easing closer until he
expect the justice. I k ep t up the now and again gave m e advice,
practice, early at the butts, later at which Hildeberd tolerated. Once
the manor. A town councilman or Sir Eustace even took the sword
two complained thatTallguard was from Hildeberd and w e took a few
spending too m uch tim e watching passes at each other, Sir Eustace
me. “I’ve got m y orders,” he told shouting,“Elbow in, elbow in,” then,
them. “Until the ju stice tells me “Good” when he returned Hilde-
otherways, it is m y bounden duty to berd’s sword. “Excellent progress.”
keep this prisoner under m y eye.” He left, and Hildeberd and I stared
“Prisoner?” one o f th em splut at each other, but in silence.
tered, looking at me. “A finer fed Why did he treat me so? I
and better dressed m urderer, at thought at first he wanted to wear
greater liberty, I did never see.” me down or injure me in practice
Tallguard shook his h ead and and make his victory easier, or even
held up his hand. “Speak to the ju s have me accidentally killed in heat
tice, sirs, that’s all I can tell ye.” o f swordplay. But I received no
By ourselves, I told him he could harm. Then w hat the steward said
manacle m y wrists if it would make made sense, that he wanted to
things easier for him. make sure that his victory was not
“Th ey’ll on ly com plain that tainted by fighting an untrained
you’ve got no leg irons,” Tallguard opponent. Then I heard that he lost
said. “M y job would be fine save for two sons and two wives in child
the politicos.” birth, and had no more o f marriage
The second w eek stretched to or sons, but why would a man train
ward its end. The soren ess was his son and try to kill him ? In truth,
leaving m y muscles at last, and I I had a better chance now to best
him than I ever had, and that home late to roost, nor the fickle
chance improved every day. I could ness o f Fortune. It was not ju st a
not fathom it. deed n ot mine; it was som eone
I wondered how my father and else’s deed. I leaned over m y ale
he would have fared. Sir Eustace one evening so I could lower m y
was wealthier and more powerful voice to Tallguard. “Listen,” I said,
and more learned and more sure o f “about, you know, Sir Stanyarde
himself. His was a prosperous and and all— who do you think did it,
well-run manor, from the look o f it, really.”
and I wondered if my father would His eyes narrowed and his fore
have heeded his vision if his days head creased as he leaned towards
had not been so hardscrabble and me. “Why,” he said slowly, as i f con
if the life he renounced had been fused, “I thought it was you.”
that o f Sir Eustace. We might be on I was fairly sure he spoke in jest.
our manor still, vision or no. W hen the justice finally did re
But never would he have fought turn, having found the k in g at
a judicial duel on a question so slen E ltham , he said, rather than at
der as this. He would, instead, have Winchester, as he had thought, he
admitted to doubt— doubting his was accompanied by— or, I should
eyes, his conclusions, things being, say, h e w as a cco m p a n y in g —
as they always were, so foggy. Not T hom as o f W oodstock, E arl o f
that things are less foggy now, all Gloucester, Duke o f Buckingham,
these years from Haresbury and youngest son o f Edward III, broth
Cranefield and trial by battle and er to th e Black Prince, uncle to
even the Duke o f Buckingham— Richard II, and, more importantly
the fog is everywhere, but I am bet for our small drama, the realm ’s
ter at guessing the shapes and I expert on trial by battle, com e to
m ake a fair way feelingly, some oversee in the stead o f the king.
times. Sir Eustace was almost boyish
But in those days, waiting for the in his joy. That Buckingham h im
justice and trying to understand self should come to officiate at Sir
w h at was happening and how I E ustace’s judicial duel— at least
had ended in a Kentish town being that’s how I imagined Sir Eustace
trained for combat by a man who considered it, his duel, his perfor
wanted me dead, the fog seemed mance. But as Useless walked us
solid, so thick it was, and thick not around his grounds, I overheard
only with the mystery o f Sir Eu Buckingham say something aside
stace. Where was the justice? Lost? to the justice about being m uch re
Ambushed in the forest by the kill lieved to be away from the fen and
ers o f Sir Moneybags? stench o f court.
S ir Eustace had asked, I f not To m e all that Buckingham had
him, who? The question began to to say was that there would likely
plague me. That I might die for a be a royal muster soon to raise an
deed not mine no longer seemed army against the Scots, and that if
justice for m y other sins coming I survived my tete-a-tete with Sir
Eustace, I should come to London about his son. Others offered ad
posthaste. But he asked me, too, if vice or aid.
m y father were still in the “I was in the wars with him,” said
monastery near York, and since I one. “He comes on strong but wears
had told no one where h e was, I down fast. Let him spend himself.
guessed that the justice and Buck Outlast him.”
ingham had been doing a bit o f re “I was in France with him,” said
search on my story. I told him I another. “He’s a slow start, so best
didn’t know where my father was, you hit early, hard and fast.”
which was a lie. “He knows an old witch in the
The trial was set Sunday next, hills,” said an attractive matron
three days hence, and rum or made with a likerous eye, “who’ll put a
its speedy way through H aresbury curse on ye. Wear ye this to turn the
and likely beyond. Sir Eustace curse back on her what cast it.” She
spent what time he was not fawn handed me a smelly garland to
ing over the Duke in supervision o f wear under my helm. I thanked
the final preparations, having her kindly.
posts erected to hold a canopy over ‘Y ou’ll be needing som eone to
the royal guest, having stones re help you arm,” said Tallguard over
moved, mounds smoothed, depres the last ale o f the evening. “I’d be
sions filled, tu rf laid over bare pleased were it me.”
spots, and m aking the w orkers “So would I, Walt,” for that was
m iserable. They w ere pleased his name, “and I thank you for it.”
w h en , on the Friday b efore the We raised our cups to one another
trial, Buckingham expressed an and drained them d iy
interest in local hunting and Sir The next day, the last day before
E ustace got a party u p and led trial, was crammed with certain for
them on a merry chase until night malities which I need not go into
fall. here, so I will not waste good ink on
Practice stopped, so I had leisure how we appeared before Bucking
tim e I had not enjoyed since I was ham to hear the general rules o f ju
stocked. W hile Useless now con dicial combat detailed for us, nor
sidered me a member o f the nobil how we were given leave to ques
ity, most townfolk still thought o f tion and modify some o f the rules
m e as one o f them, even though for our particular trial, nor how we
they would have tom m e limb by made agreement regarding weap
lim b from sanctuary. W h erever ons, in which our forward was that
Tallguard and I went, w hich was any weapon chosen would be ac
m ostly to inns to rate various ales, ceptable so long as it were not en
people had something to say, ev chanted or blessed or cursed or had
erything from, “God be with ye,” any taint o f the supernatural about
from the cute little tapster at the it. Nor will I describe how we were
Coney’s Tail to, “I hope he cuts your not to have about us any charm,
head off, ya bloody bastard,” hum talisman, precious stone, token, im
John Butcher, the father still angry age, icon, scroll, scrap of paper or
parchment, or other item of magic As I lay behind that altar hearing

or blessing, n or object on which all the sou nds a q u iet church
magic or blessing could be inscribed makes in the night, I saw in my
or made somehow to sit, nor that m ind’s eye a— I will n ot say “vi
our weapons, persons, mounts, or sion”— a pictu re o f S ir Eustace
gear were to be free o f all potions, stretched facedown on the stone
poultices, or poisons designed to floor o f his chapel before the altar,
give advantage to ourselves or dis arms extended on his imaginary
advantage to our adversary; nor cross, praying feverishly as the cold
shall I describe the special Mass we ate through his thin wool and into
later attended and special confes his bones. This I saw each time I
sions we made, nor how we took closed my eyes. I finally decided
our oaths on our positions before that I, perhaps, should offer up a
Buckingham, justice, and priest, nor prayer myself, for luck, at least.
how we arranged for our equipage In the morning, I rode with Tail-
to be stored and guarded in our guard to Sir Eustace’s for Mass,
pavilions until the morrow, nor the confession, a formal dressing, and
sparse Lenten fare prepared for breaking fast. Then to our individ
supper, nor the ritual bath and ual pavilions for arming, Hildeberd
cleansing we each had, nor the sim with Sir Eustace, Tallguard with
ple woolen shift we each dressed in, me.
nor how it was suggested that we And now I had to reveal to Tail-
m ight spend the night with the guard w hat I was certain he al
plight o f our souls in mind, nor how ready knew. In the pavilion I turned
Sir Eustace offered me the use of his from the gleam ing polished steel of
chapel, where he him self would the knight’s armor to the bundle
spend the night in prayer and con wrapped beside it— the simple
templation, nor how I thanked him leather and unpolished steel o f a
but declined in favor o f the church mounted archer, and m y bow and a
I knew so well from my time in quiver o f arrows.
sanctuary. No, all o f this I now pass I looked at Tallguard. “I knew not
over and go straight to the event. how to tell you o f this. I f you object
I took a pallet to the church and and cannot stay, I understand.”
laid it out behind the altar so as not “It is no matter,” he said. “I al
to distract those who came late to ways thought this w ere your plan.
pray nor to attract those who would N ot up to me, in any case. It’s you
come at any time to gawk. It was two have to fight. I figure God will
not the plight o f my soul I was as sort you out right.”
concerned with as making sure my I f that w ere meant to comfort, it
body got the sleep it needed, and didn’t.
the church would likely give me I carried also a short archer’s
more quiet that night than would sword at m y side, and foot-long dirk
the inn, and staying in the church with a triangular cross-sectioned
also seemed a m ore satisfactory blade. It could punch through ar
choice with the townfolk. mor in a pinch, but if it ever came to
that, Fd be already dead. Before he Sir Eustace did not look at me.
would let me leave the pavilion, TM- “Nay, Your Grace. So they be not
guard went over every inch o f me. enchanted, they are in keeping
“You’re as ready as you ’ll be,” he with our accord.”
said. “Then we shall proceed.”
Tallguard did not object to my And more formalities, which in
choice o f weapons, but at the next truth I don’t remember, my belly
formality, when we w ere called in felt so empty and my limbs so light
arms before Buckingham to state and shaky. All I wanted at that mo
our names, m ake our claims, and ment was for everything to be done,
take our oaths, there were indeed whichever way it might fall.
objections— not the stir in the A t last we were sent to our ends
crowd as I rode along the stands to o f the field. I dismounted with my
ward Buckingham and the justice, bow and quiver. I shook my arrows
not from Sir Eustace nor the ju s out and stuck them beside me into
tice, n or the Duke, b u t from old the turf. As I strung m y bow I could
Hildeberd, ranting from Useless’s see Sir Eustace, now helmeted,
pavilion. ‘Y ou bleeding frog-loving take his shield and lance from
son o f a mongrel bitch!” carried his Hildeberd. I tested m y bowstring,
voice above the flapping pennants notched an arrow.
and rustling canopy. ‘Y ou whore “Shouldn’t you be up a bit?” Tail-
son w hey-faced girly-m an! You guard said, and I realized that had
stinking excuse for a . . . ” I been riding, Sir Eustace and I
“Silence that man,” Buckingham would have fought before the
thundered, and the next words judges, but I had dismounted near
w ere faint through a m uffling m y pavilion, and the battle, if bat
hand, then words stopped. tle there was, would take place
Buckingham looked to Useless. here.
“Sir Eustace?” ‘Too late,” said Tallguard as Sir
Soothly, I have to say that Sir Eustace put his horse into a walk.
Eustace did look splendid sitting And no matter, I hoped, for I did
tall in his shining armor, his helmet not intend to fight at all. I would
crooked under one arm , his other drop Sir Eustace from his mount at
hand holding reins o f green and thirty yards, at least, only wound
gold leather studded with colored ed, I hoped, but wounded or dead,
gem s and stones. It w as almost dropped in the dirt too far to skew
enough to make a person a believ er me with lance, cleave me with
er in w hat Sir Eustace believed in. sword, or crush me with mace or
“I apologize to you for my man, hoof.
Your Grace, and to you, Master Jus I was amazed at how slowly his
tice, and to you, Squire Adam.” horse moved.
“W ell said,” B uckingham said, Tallguard led m y horse behind
“and gracious. Now, Sir Eustace, the pavilion.
have you objection to your adver The trick was not to release the
sary’s arms?” arrow too soon—
Still the horse moved slowly, so it at me, and I hurl m yself left right in
seemed me. front o f the hooves crashing and
— Nor too late. Too soon and the the lance swings to follow but is
arrow flies wide— blocked by the horse and then he’s
Faster now, but far still. past me and I’m on my feet again.
— Too late and even if it strikes He reins in hard and turns his
true, a thousand pounds o f horse mount in a vicious spin and is at me
and man could hurtle over you. again, hurling the lance aside and
Timing is— charging down, m eaning to crush
Faster now. me with horse or mace, and I make
— everything. I raise my bow— myself stand, stand, and then I run
Hurtling now, hurtling slow. at the horse screaming and waving
I draw the arrow to my— my sword, and Sir Eustace pulls
Still so far away. up and I grab the reins and the
— ear, I hold m y pull— horse rears and lifts m e o ff the
Hurtling still, why doesn’t he— ground and a hoof glances m y ribs
hold my pull— like a mountain and I’m back on
— come faster? How far is he, the ground, the reins still in my left
he’s— hand and with m y sw ord arm I
My arm is shaking, he’s— somehow backslash and then blood
taking too long. and blood and the great rush o f
— taking too long and I can’t hold breath from the horse’s severed
the pull and— throat, and the horse’s head smash
I loose the arrow— es mine and we’re both going down
and it flies stra ig h t in gouts o f blood spouting, and Sir
and true and— Eustace is going down and we all
penetrates at thirty yards— crash to earth in the blood, and the
his shield! horse voids in its dying thrashes
A cry from the crowd and he’s and everything is pain and smells,
coming still, he’s galloping right at blood smell and piss and dung and
me and those hooves, that lance — horse sweat and man sweat and
I turn and run toward the pavil churned earth and ears ringing,
ion, out o f his path, but he shifts stunned.
and turns his lance sidewise and I hear Sir Eustace yelling. “That
scythes me down at the legs as he was unknightly done!” His leg was
passes, and I’m on the ground see pinned beneath the horse. “T hat
ing sky. Then I’m on m y knees and was unknightly done!”
Sir Eustace is turning his horse My sword is gone. I pull the dirk
over and over m y arrows, snapping from my belt and crawl to Sir Eu
them like straws, so I throw my stace. “Yield!” I say.
bow from me and draw my short “You are a peasant after all!”
sword and he spurs his horse to “Yield!”
ward me and this time I run right “I will not yield! I’ll free m yself
in the path o f the lance, and the and strike you down!”
hooves thunder down at me, down I reversed my grip and p om
meled his helmet hard twice, thrice. may He give m e the strength to
H e feU back. “Yield!” send you there!”
He said nothing. I sat on him and “Hold thy hand!” Buckingham
put my face to his visor. I could see shouted.
his eyes open. I slid the point o f the My dirk hovered.
dirk into the visor. “Yield, dam n “By God, sir, h old!”
you, or Fll punch your eye through The blade fell from my hand and
the back o f you r skull!” I rolled o ff Sir Eustace onto the
“I will not yield!” ground and tried to breathe.
Flies were already at the blood I heard voices, many voices, but
and dung. above them all, that o f the justice.
I raised m yself to m y knees and “Constable!” h e ordered. “A rrest
looked to the stands. “M y Lord Jus that man!”
tice?” It wasn’t until the guards hauled
They were all standing. I saw the me to my feet that I understood he
justice lean toward Buckingham. meant me.
Then turned toward me. “Does he
yield?” the justice called. So there I was, after a night in
I leaned back over Sir Eustace. the gaol, stocked outside the fore
“Yield!” gate of Haresburv again, only this
“You will have to kill me!” time arm-and-head stocked to keep
I raised again. “M y lords.” my hands away from stones and
“He m ust yield,” the ju stice mud balls, and this time not for
yelled, “or die.” murder but for assault— once on
I leaned toward the visor. “Yield, that little Dem on whose father
Sir Eustace, please, yield.” thought I would eat him, and three
Silence. times for assault on the justice him
I raised m yself over the dirk. I self. And I thought that leg-stocking
didn’t have the strength to drive it was bad on my back.
home. I’d have to drop m y body I stayed there all o f Monday. Tail-
weight upon it. I was dizzy. I raised guard kept m e well-watered and
m yself up. released me every couple o f hours
But I couldn’t brin g m yself to to stretch my muscles and unlock
drop my weight onto the dirk. my joints, which I suspect he was
“Kill me!” Sir Eustace snarled. not supposed to do. I spent Monday
“Kill me, dam n you! You must kill night again in gaol and Tuesday I
me!” was stocked again.
And then I knew. I f not me, who? In the late forenoon, who should
I leaned into his visor. “It was you dismount before me but the justice,
killed him! You!” on his way back to wherever it was
“Aye!” he said. “It was!” he came from. I twisted m y head to
I was in a fury, a sudden flame o f better see him. “How long will I be
anger. “M ay God dam n you body stocked?”
and soul to Hell,” I yelled, raising “Until Sir Eustace asks for your
my dirk high over his helm, “and forgiveness,” he said.
“Till Doomsday, then.” The justice did not answer until

“W ithin an hour, I should think. he was mounted. “H e sought abso
Before noon, in any case. He begins lution in judicial duel and failed.
his penance today. A pilgrimage to He sought absolution in death, but
Rome.” you denied him. This is w hat is
A pilgrimage to Rome? He had left.”
falsely accused me o f murder, yet I ‘You knew he was guilty, then.”
was the one in the stocks and he “I came to suspect it. It seemed
was on his way to Rome? I began to best to let the play play out.”
shake m y stocks in my anger, try “And w ho would forgive you had
ing to make them fly to pieces. All he killed m e?”
I did was chafe my wrists and neck “I believed you to be a survivor.”
and m ake my head hurt. The ju s ‘You m ight have been wrong.”
tice waited until my fit had passed. “There is always that possibility.”
“H e w ill walk, and he will be He turned his horse and started
barefoot.” away.
I twisted toward him. “From here “I make no promises,” I shouted
to Rome?” after him. H e did not show that he
“A nd h e is endowing the local heard.
convent and monastery and buying We have talked about Sir Eu
weekly Masses at both for Sir Stan- stace across the years, wondered
yarde in perpetuity.” what goaded his anger so on that
The story was familiar. “And forest path — perhaps som e last
when he returns, he will take the inanity from Stanyarde, or the cut
cowl.” o f his fine courtier clothes, or the
The justice smiled. “Yes. Mind great golden spurs he won in the
you, our local priest does not have counting house instead o f honest
the spine to impose such a penance, steel ones gained afield. Sir E u
so Eustace will make his confes stace su rely saw him as a m an
sion to the archbishop in Canter raised from the dust by politics
bury and have his penance con and m oney, no noble born, no
firm ed. But all o f this is self- knight, and finally he did w hat a
imposed, and his first duty will be knight does best, what a knight
to kneel here before you and beg has to do— he drew his sword, and
your forgiveness.” he used it. And in doing he lost
“So, I will be released if I forgive the honor central to his knight
him.” hood.
“No,” the justice said. ‘You’ll be I understand more now than I
released whether you forgive him did then the need some have for an
or no.” ideal, a vision, an illusion even, a
“I make no promises.” need as desperate as a drowning
“That is almost always wise.” He man’s need for a tossed rope or a bit
moved to his horse. o f wood to buoy him. An image o f a
“H e wanted me to kill him,” I prince in black armor astride his
said. horse, the enemy falling like grain.
A vision o f a child o f Limoges car them. “You’re free to go now, Adam,”

rying h er head, talking, in her Walt said.
bloody hands. Ave, I thought. But go w here?
When the justice was out o f sight, “Oh,” said Walt, “here’s the letter.”
Walt the tall guard appeared beside I broke the seal and found an an
me. swer to that question:
“Thank God,” I said. “M y neck is 7 find m yself in need o f a scriven
killing me.” er. You, I believe, find y o u rself in
“Sorry, Adam, not yet. I have need o f a position since, unless I ’m
three more orders from the justice. m istaken, you have reconsidered
Last it is that I’m to let you go, and you r Hawkwood am bitions and are
before that I’m to give you a letter. not inclined to accept Buckingham s
Both after Sir Eustace leaves. First invitation to fight the Scots. I need
I’m supposed to tell you this.” He som eone to ride the ju stice circuit
straightened as if he w ere giving a with me, to record evidence and pro
speech. “ ‘When you think o f Ed ceedings, and to help me gath er in
ward at Limoges, think too o f Ed formation. I also write poetry a bit,
ward at Calais.’ ” and have need o f a reliable scriven
Edward at Calais. Edward III, er with me for copying, since I’ll like
n ot his son Edw ard, the Black ly be leaving London for a time. I f
Prince. Another long siege, anoth you are so inclined, meet m e in Lon
er furious besieger, another order don a week hence. 1 have room s
to put the populace to the sword. above Aldgate. A sk for G eoffrey
B u t Queen Philippa fell to h er Chaucer, Esquire.
knees, begging that the people be The justice was right. I had no
spared, and Edward, moved to pity, desire to seek H awkwood or to
said he would spare Calais if sev fight the Scots, so I set out later
en leading burghers w ould come that day on the same road as Sir
to him, halters about their necks, to Eustace, but mine forked toward
give their lives for the others. And London before I caught him. And
th ey came. And E dw ard spared in a London tavern, three nights
them , too. later, the justice asked what I had
A nd then Sir Eustace was kneel said to Sir Eustace on that last day.
ing before me, barefoot in his white I told him that I said both the best
penitential gown, shrunken and and the worst thing that both o f us
fiery-eyed like my father, and I see could hear.
now a drowning man grasping holy I told him that I could hear Eu
orders as he had his chivalry, trad stace coming before I could twist
ing one illusion for another. enough to see him as he shuffled to
Tallguard released m e after Sir ward me murmuring his mea cul
Eustace had risen and started to pa. Then he knelt before me, the
w ard Rome and Canterbury, fol sun on pink scalp beneath thin
lowed at a distance by his steward white hair, tears streaking dust al
and a few other- servants, his spir ready on his face, hands clasped to
itual retainers, as I thou gh t o f ward me, and me nothing but a
pair o f hands and a head sticking I thou gh t I could see h is face

out o f the stocks. A fine sight we tighten.
must have made. “Anything. W hat would you have
“A dam o f C r a n e f i e l d h e said me do?”
with his eyes down, “I kneel before “I would have you forgive m e my
you contrite and repentant for the offenses against you.”
wrongs I have done you. For these “So,” I said to Chaucer the justice,
my misdoings I am heartily sorry, “I gave him the burden o f having to
and I beg your pardon for my of forgive, and I shouldered the bur
fenses against you.” H is hands den o f h avin g to accept forgive
trembled. ness.”
“Sir Eustace,” I said, and I wait Chaucer smiled and topped off
ed until he raised his eyes to mine. my ale. “W ell said, Adam,” he said.
“I will forgive you on one condition.” “And gracious.”
T he C at and M ouse Caper
Cynthia Lawrence
ou’d have to convince me that cats have special powers. I’d rath
Y er believe in luck or coincidence. And yet I m ight have been

robbed, even killed— without knowing why— if it hadn’t been
for a cat, a drag queen, and a bag o f donuts. To begin with, there was
Benita, m y cat, and her love o f sparkling things.
W e’d moved ju s t the w eek before, Benita and I, into this crumbling
East Village brownstone, a Civil War relic. Generation after generation
o f immigrants began new lives in these cramped rooms. Followed by Bo
hem ians and Beats, the persistently poor, or, like me, tem porary es
capees from m iddle-class life.
Well, I hadn’t exactly escaped. I’d left home in haste, forced at last to
pay attention to H arry’s infidelities. I did m iss our chic, renovated
brow nstone in Brooklyn Heights: inlaid parquet floors, stained glass
windows, lovingly assembled furnishings. But all I took was one suit
case, B enita in her carrier, and a need to get away from fam ily and
friends. M y upper lip was so stiff I could hardly talk, so I sent a picture
postcard o f the Statue o f Liberty to my mother, telling her I was fine, but
don’t trust Harry, and I’ll call soon. Then I found this furnished studio,
cashing in a couple o f old U.S. Treasury Savings Bonds that had been
birthday gifts from A unt Louise. They paid enough to cover rent, secu
rity, and a pet dam age deposit.
Although, from the scabrous paint and blotchy plaster, I’d guess the
apartm ent hadn’t been decorated since Edna St.Vincent Millay came to
the Village to b u m a few candles at both ends.
W hich leads m e to the damage inflicted on the building by years o f ab
sentee landlords and heedless tenants. I like to think that the holes in
the baseboards and walls o f my studio were made by tame little city
mice, w h o’d be easily intimidated by Benita. But some holes were big
enough to be passageways for The Rat That Ate Manhattan. I tried not
to dwell on this.
Som e previous desperate tenant had plugged up many o f these open
ings with steel wool. Obviously, rat teeth were stronger than steel. At
least one barrier was so shredded, m y curious cat could see into the
hole.
The jew els were in one o f these holes, a large opening under the pipe
that led from the kitchen sink into the wall. Imagine the scene: I’m sit
ting at the kitchen table, reconciling m y checkbook and worried, really
44
THE CAT AND MOUSE CAPER 45
worried, about how low the balance has dipped. I hear a scratchy sound,
look down, and there’s Benita, u sing h er paw to push around w h at
seems to be a diamond tennis bracelet. This was not a Wal-Mart special.
Each diamond was faceted, sending out fiery sparks as my precious kit
ty played.
“Benita,” I gasped, “where did you find that?”
Eyes like green agates stared into mine, and I could tell she had no in
tention o f sharing her new toy with her mistress.
“Listen, kitty,” I said in my most reasonable tone, “fresh chicken livers
for dinner if you cooperate.”
She yawned and, holding down the diamond links with one tan-and-
white paw, began to wash her whiskers with the other.
I hadn’t a clue as to where Benita had found the bracelet, so all I could
do was pretend to ignore her, and wait.
A couple o f hours later, after she’d played and napped (one eye open
and still clutching the bracelet), as I faked a snooze at the kitchen table,
she made her move. Benita trotted over to the sink, crouched under
neath, and swiftly stuck a paw into the hole under the pipe. She scrab
bled and scratched and then (be still m y heart!) pulled out a long slim
gold chain, about nineteen inches in length, studded with small d ia
monds. Just the thing for my basic black.
W hat next? A tiara? The Hope Diam ond? I watched Benita drag the
chain across the floor and pile it next to the tennis bracelet. Curiosity
wasn’t killing this cat. This cat was m aking a killing.
I made my move. Although m y pet com panion glared, I grabbed a
long-handled wooden spoon, lay down flat under the kitchen sink, and
poked into the hole. A rustle of paper, and I felt a bulky shape. With great
care, I pulled it towards m e until I could see a tom , grease-spotted white
paper bag, with something glittery spilling from it. I maneuvered the
wooden spoon behind the bag and pulled it forward. Out it came, tear
ing further as the paper caught on the steel wool guarding the hole. A
small fortune in gems tumbled onto the kitchen floor before my aston
ished eyes. The bag, I now saw, was printed with the name D electable
H ot D onuts. No way this hot cache could be bought, complete with a
cup o f coffee, for under a buck.
There were twenty pieces of real jew elry in that bag, not counting
Benita’s treasures. I sat on the floor, legs crossed, and ran m y hands
through a tangle of necklaces and bracelets that gleamed with gold and
platinum, diamonds and rubies; one ring was set with an emerald about
the size o f a Reese’s peanut butter cup. It was all I could do to keep from
cackling, like a grizzled old prospector driven m ad by sun and heat.
Treasure! Mine, all mine!
After a few minutes o f gloating, sanity returned.
I’d noticed, among the items that fell from the bag, a slip o f white pa
per: the receipt from the donut shop. Six assorted donuts purchased on
46 CYNTHIA LAWRENCE
October 11,1998, So the jew els had been stashed about three years ago.
W hy hadn’t the owners com e back?
They were dead.
They’d forgotten w here they’d hid their treasure.
They’d join ed the A m ish and didn’t wear jewelry.
They were in jail.
It seemed to me that the last was a real possibility. In fact, I had a dim
memory o f a jew el heist that had made headlines about three years ago.
But I couldn’t ignore the other thought: that the previous tenant was
some dotty old recluse w ho’d lived and died without letting her family
know that their inheritance was in the wall.
Both scenarios needed to be checked out. Quickly, I show ered and
dressed in jean s and a black sweatshirt. My hand shook slightly as I ap
plied lipstick in front o f the bathroom mirror and, although m y face was
pale, excitem ent had p ut spots o f color on my cheeks. For the first time
since I’d left Harry a w eek ago, I could look at myself without cringing.
A lthough m y short d a rk hair seem ed to have picked up a few m ore
strands o f gray, I’d lost the dazed look o f a deceived wife.
Stum bling onto a fortune certainly helped. Now, I knew the jew els
weren’t really mine, b u t I’d been feeling so deprived. The pangs o f loss
had begun the m om ent the tickets to Tahiti had arrived in the mail at
our home office. Harry keeps a P.O. box for his industrial film company,
but the mail that needs timely attention comes to the house. Ten years
ago, when we were first married, Harry had appointed m e general m an
ager o f his firm. Since then, I’d been his ready right hand when he was
away scouting locations or filming.
For the p ast few m onths, he’d been staying away all night— som e
times two or three nights in a row— supposedly in Pennsylvania plan
ning the sequel to his award-winning documentary, “Coal: Dead as the
Dinosaurs?” I’d had m y doubts: Was he really incommunicado in Pitts
burgh? Was our m arriage going the way of the dinosaurs?
Personalized Travel should have sent the tickets to the P.O. box, but
someone had slipped up. That morning, I stared at the tw o plane tick
ets for next month, com plete with an itinerary listing a Tahiti hotel and
sightseeing for Mr. and Mrs. Harry F. McDermott.
Buff, blue-eyed Harry, with the golden-boy tan and a film director’s
ego. H e’d told me h e’d be in M exico’s Sonoran desert next month, in
com municado (again!), doing the advance work for a new film on borax
mining. N ot a trip for Mr. and Mrs., he’d said.
A t that moment, I felt as if I’d been stung by a Sonoran scorpion. I’d
snatched up the airline tickets, packed my suitcase with a few clothes
and a couple o f mementos, phoned around until I found a hotel in lower
Manhattan that would accept Benita, took a taxi, and left. Next day, I
rented my E ast Village studio.
Although, o f course, Benita is ju st a cat with no special powers, I could
accept that her find was a good omen. After a w eek o f sleeping late, sur
vivin g on black coffee and Chinese takeout, a n d d riftin g aim lessly
around the tiny apartment, the treasure gave m e a new sense o f pur
pose.
M y first step w as checking out the previous tenant. I’d become friend
ly with m y upstairs neighbor. She was a six-foot-tall drag queen w ho
sang at a local club under her stage name o f G linda the Goody. She’d
told me that she’d lived in her apartment for th e past tw o years.
I couldn’t bring m yself to return the jew els to the mouse hole, so I put
them, donut bag and all, into a brown paper bag. Benita hissed when I
took away her bracelet and chain but, hey, we all suffer losses in this life.
Luckily, I like large handbags; the bag o f jew els fit easily at the bot
tom. I hefted the purse handles onto m y shoulder, ran up the stairs, and
knocked on Glinda’s door.
She was six feet o f Scarlett, the Southern belle, today: long black curls,
bouffant pink dress, and pink picture hat. H er face lit w ith pleasure
when she saw me.
“C’mon in, honey,” she drawled. “I’m ju st tryin’ ou t this costume for my
new act. D’you think pink does it for m e?”
“Can’t stay now, Glinda. I just need to ask you a question.”
“Ask away.”
“The tenant before me,” I said breathlessly. “D id she die while she
lived in that apartment?”
“W hat a morbid idea. No, sweet child, her son bought a condo in Fort
Lauderdale and moved her down there. She sent m e a lovely postcard
with palm trees.”
“Thanks so m uch,” I said. ‘Talk to you later. A nd, yes, pink is definite
ly you.”
It wasn’t quite eleven A.M. when I left m y apartm ent. Although I’d
been too excited to eat breakfast, suddenly I w as starved. Across the
street was a coffee house that had a neighborhood clientele, and I head
ed for it.
A t that off-hour, only one table w as taken: a y ou n g couple in the
sweats-and-jeans uniform, sipping double lattes. They idly looked me
over, and I resisted the panicky urge to clutch m y handbag.
After gulping down a cappuccino and a ham -and-cheese croissant, I
took a bus uptown to the 42nd Street public library. W hat I wanted were
the newspapers for October, 1998. These older periodicals were in Room
100, on microfilm. I squinted over the small print, scrolling until the sto
ry popped up. It had made front-page headlines on October 5: a smash-
and-grab at a famous Fifth Avenue jew elry store. Done quickly by two
culprits wearing ski masks. They’d shot a security guard, w ho survived;
escaped before police could respond to the silent alarm.
There w as a follow -up article on, yes, O ctober 12. A m an had at
tempted to pawn a diamond-and-platinum brooch at a shop on Tenth
48 CYNTHIA LAWRENCE
Avenue. The pawnbroker had alerted the police, who found the man get
ting into a rented van driven by his female accomplice.
A ccording to the newspaper, the couple claim ed to have found the
brooch in a gutter on T hird Avenue, they couldn’t remember where.
They’d come from Chicago a week earlier and could give the police no lo
cal address. They were ju st visiting, they said, and had been sleeping in
the van.
A picture accompanied the article: the couple, each handcuffed, being
escorted into the police station. His face was h alf turned away, but she
was frowning into the camera. He had cropped dark hair and flashed a
tiny hoop in the ear I could see; her hair was long, straight, and almost
the white o f platinum. They were both young, lithe and attractive. They
were also familiar. I stared at the faces in the photo. Where had I seen
them ? It was recently, I knew.
Oh, God! Bonnie and Clyde were the latte drinkers in the coffee house
across from my apartment.
Did they know who I was? N ot yet. They’d had a clear look at the old
brownstone from the cafe window, and were probably still sizing up its
occupants. We were six tenants in all, on three floors. With the possible
exception o f Glinda, who could be seen watering pots o f geraniums on
her windowsill, there was no way to identify who was in which apart
ment. A nd who was at hom e during the day. The mailbox was no clue:
ju st discreetly lettered last names.
Even so, it was only a matter o f time before they’d ring the doorbell o f
A partm ent 2B and, hearing no answer, jim m y the unsubstantial lock
and enter. Were they still packing guns?
It would have been prudent for m e to simply walk away. After all, I
had the jew els in m y purse; I could afford new underwear. But w hat
about Benita? I couldn’t abandon her.
The couple, obviously, had never returned to the apartment after they
were arrested. The bag o f jew elry had stayed in its hiding place, gleam
ing unseen like the treasures in K ing Tut’s tomb, until they could re
turn.
W hat had happened to them in the years since their arrest? I hastily
skim m ed through the microfilm and finally found a few lines in a N o
vem ber newspaper. The robbery and assault charges had been dropped
(no witness identification), and the case was still open. But they’d been
charged with possession o f stolen property: pawning the brooch. They’d
becom e old news fast. N o follow-up story that I could find. I could guess
that th ey’d served time. Now they were back on the streets, ready to
fence their loot and retire young.
L ea vin g the library, I was su dd en ly ravenous again (w om en and
stress and food, it’s the old story). I passed a Delectable Hot Donuts shop
and, to celebrate m y good fortune and possible demise, had a m aple
cruller, a raspberry jelly donut, and coffee. Two donut holes with sprin-
kies and a second cup o f coffee later, I had a plan. I folded the em pty
donut bag, tucked it into my purse, and left in search o f a pay phone. The
first call was to the jew elry store on Fifth Avenue; the second w as to
Harry.
I didn’t really want to talk to Harry, just his voice mail, and I was in
luck. H e’d be in m id-M anhattan today, picking ou t m usic tapes for a
soundtrack, but he was conscientious about checking his messages ev
ery few hours.
“Harry,” I said, subdued, a catch in my voice, ‘Toy now you’ve discov
ered that I have you r tickets to Tahiti. I’m sorry th at our m arriage
hasn’t worked out; I don’t know w hat I’ve done wrong, but obviously I’ve
disappointed you.
“Harry, I don’t want to be bitter, so you can have your tickets back, for
you and your new friend. Oh, because I was so angry when I left, I took
your Film Society award. Remember that awards dinner? How excited
we both were when you won. In all good conscience, I can’t keep that
award, so it’s on my kitchen table along with the tickets.
“Pick them up today, Harry. I’ll tell my neighbor in A partm ent 3B to
buzz you in. The door to the apartment is unlocked, and I’m not com ing
back. I’ll be in touch once I’m resettled. Let’s ju s t rem em ber w hat we
once had, and be glad.”
I left him the address and apartm ent number. There were genuine
tears in my eyes as I hung up the phone. I could alm ost talk m yself in
to regrets. B ut this was no time for sentiment. M y focus was to retrieve
Benita, and escape without getting shot.
I hailed a taxi back to the Village. It was taking a chance, but I’d de
cided to walk boldly up the front stairs and into the building. Bonnie and
Clyde (real nam es, Jennie and Homer, according to the new spapers)
w ould still be w atching from th e cafe, but th ey ’d seen m e once and
hadn’t been suspicious. The problem would be getting out o f my apart
ment with a suitcase and cat carrier.
Luckily, Glinda had introduced herself the day I moved in and shown
me the laundry room, really a narrow passageway on the roof.
She’d been dressed that day in a blond wig, Dietrich-style pinstriped
black suit, and a black fedora.
“It vas probably built durink Prohibition,” she informed me in a husky
German accent, playing her unofficial role as historian and greeter for
our building and its twin next door.
Both sets o f tenants used the single washer and dryer. A ccess was
from the third floor o f either building, climbing a fire escape ladder that
led to the roof (balancing laundry as best you could). Once on the roof, it
was possible to cross to the other building through the passageway, and
descend through their ladder.
I imagine the structure violated every NYC building code. But how
handy for bootleggers escaping from the cops across the roof, gaining a
50 CYNTHIA LAWRENCE
few m ore minutes to confound their pursuers. The twin building ended
at the comer, with an aromatherapy boutique on the first floor. The shop
had a side entrance, handy for deliveries and for customers who didn’t
want to be observed leaving. (Gin buyers in the twenties, pot smokers in
the sixties, according to my guide.) I had a way out.
Benita had been perched on a windowsill, keeping track o f the watch
ers in the cafe. How m any hours had they been at it, Benita, Jenny, and
Homer, each dream ing o f lovely, lost sparkling things?
Myself, I stayed away from the windows, taking my suitcase from the
closet and hurriedly packing. I crept up on Benita, grabbed her before
she could leap away, and gently pushed her into the carrier. To my sur
prise, she didn’t fuss; she simply sat alertly, eyes opened wide, following
my movements.
I left Harry’s tickets on the kitchen table, as promised. On top, neatly
packed, was his achievement award, an engraved crystal obelisk. A look
around the studio; it had been my safe haven for a week, but now it was
time to move on.
Th e purse handles w en t on my shoulder. One hand held my suitcase,
the other, B enita in h er carrier. I struggled up the stairs to Glinda’s
apartment.
She was hom e; through the door I could hear her pretty good imita
tion o f Billie Holiday singing “Lover Man.” A knock on her door and she
drew m e inside.
“You look like a frightened child,” she said, eyeing my suitcase and car
rier. “W hy are you m oving out?”
Today she was wearing a cream colored silk blouse, taupe gabardine
slacks, a scarf tying her real brown hair into a ponytail. Six feet o f clas
sic chic. I told her everything that had happened since that morning:
Benita and the diamond bracelet, the ex-cons in the cafe, Harry and the
tickets to Tahiti.
“Well, let’s get you out o f here,” said Glinda briskly. “I never really be
lieved you could depend on the kindness of strangers.”
S h e hoisted Benita’s carrier in one hand, m y suitcase in the other.
Silently, we climbed the fire escape to the roof, went through the pas
sageway, and descended the ladder in the other building. Down from the
third floor to the hall entrance o f the aromatherapy shop on the street
floor.
“I’ll leave you here,” said Glinda the Goody, not even breathing hard
as she put down my suitcase. “We’d be too conspicuous going into the
store together. I’m so m uch taller than you,” she said with a gentle
smile. “Just walk through the shop to the street entrance on the other
side.”
Glinda was still holding Benita in her carrier. For a week, these two
had offered m e unconditional solace and support. Friends, I thought.
They make up for a whole horrid mess o f disappointments. I kissed Glin-
da on her closely shaven cheek, took Benita, and slipped into the shop
and out the side door.
A taxi took us back to the downtown hotel w h ere they accepted pets.
I checked in, left Benita with a can o f Chicken in Gravy and a bowl o f
water, and hailed another taxi for my appointm ent uptown. The jew els
felt heavier than ever at the bottom o f my purse. God, I’d be glad to get
rid o f them!
I called Glinda from the hotel that night and got an eyewitness ac
count o f what she’d seen from her window. The story was in the news
papers next morning. There was some confusion about who struck first
and why. What was fact was that an unknow n m an and woman had
dashed from a cafe and tried to grab a donut b a g from Harry F. M cDer
mott, award-winning industrial filmmaker.
There’d been a struggle, and M cD erm ott h ad hit the man over the
head with the paper bag, which contained a sm all crystal sculpture in
the shape o f an obelisk. The crystal shattered and the bag ripped open.
When the couple saw the broken pieces they turned and ran. M cD er
mott could give no explanation for the attack.
I clipped the story and tucked it into m y wallet. Since Harry had been
identified in the article, there was a good chance that Jenny and H om er
would track him down, still thinking he’d m ade off with their jew els.
How frightening for Harry.
Not that I cared. The reward money from the jew eler’s insurance com
pany had covered the down payment on an airy condo in Santa Barbara.
Spanish tile and only two blocks from the Pacific. I have a great jo b
scouting locations along the California coast for a movie production com
pany.
I’m going back to Manhattan for a visit, to m ake peace with my m oth
er and catch the opening night o f Glinda’s new act.
There are no mice to speak o f in Santa Barbara, but I bought Benita
a rhinestone necklace o f her very own, and she isn’t bored with it yet.
Do you think she knows the difference between rhinestones and dia
monds? I have a sneaking suspicion that she does but, as she naps with
the necklace on my kitchen’s sun-warmed tiles, she’s decided that glit
ter is glitter and, all things considered, that’s good enough.
T he Cruise
Jas. R. Petrin
I
am not surprised w hen I ual whose invitations cannot be ig
emerge from the kitchen nook nored.
at the W estbrook H otel and Hightops explains that La-La
find Tommy Hightops waiting forhas bought himself a ship, and that
m e in the lobby, which is a grand I am to be included am ong the
nam e for that small room where guests on the first sailing.
there is a tiny front desk, a ciga Though I discover it isn’t really a
rette machine, a pay phone, and ship, but more o f a floating tavern,
n ot much else. There he stands one o f those long, lit-up vessels that
glancing fiercely about, and when ply the Red River, where you can
he spots me, he legs it right for me. have dinner and a dance, sip a cock
“It’s about your friend,” he snaps, tail or two, and watch the old m an
“Narvel Moist.” sions slide by on the treed banks.
Now, I object to Narvel M oist be Its first cruise is to be a celebra
ing described as my friend, which tion o f the new venture, and La-La
he most certainly never was, the has asked practically his entire
guy being shoved onto m e by High- West End crowd along. Not that I
tops as a sort o f jo b in the first count myself among these. H e has
place. a particular reason for asking me.
“We’ve got to talk,” says High- “There is a joe,” explains High
tops, steering me into the bar. tops, driving Diesel Williams away
And there follows a similar scene with a glare, “whom the boss wants
to that which occurred about a you to keep an eye on.”
w eek and a half a g o . . . ‘W h y me?”
“Because La-La has noticed that
A t that time I am at the bar play you are good at keeping an eye on
in g whisky poker w ith Diesel people.”
Williams, giving him m y personal I’m not sure if I should feel flat
philosophy about life and pretty tered or something else.
m uch beating the pants off him, “This joe,” Hightops continues,
w hen Hightops appears at m y el “is called Narvel Moist. He works
bow with an invitation for me from for the federal government. He has
his boss. spent days going over the books o f
For those who don ’t kn ow it, the Lalapaloosa Club, the Llama
Hightops is a sort o f lieutenant to Club, and every other business ef
La-La Lloyd Laduc, w ho is pretty fort which he thinks La-La may
m uch an absolute force on these have an interest in.”
streets, and therefore an individ “For what reason?”
52
THE CRUISE 53
“He is an auditor.” run o f the ship and all the food you
Meaning, o f course, a tax inspec can eat. B u t no liquor. You must
tor. keep your mind clear. I’m to tell you
“And what can I do about it?” there will be a little something com
“A bout the audit, nothing. But ing your w ay afterwards if things
you can stick close to him and see turn out well.”
that nobody—accidentally or other “And if they don’t?”
wise— tips him to further avenues “Then there will be a little some
o f investigation.” Hightops gives his thing else com ing your way.”
shoulders an irritated hitch. “He On this sinister note Hightops
found out about the boat somehow, shoves the door open, leaving me
which is embarrassing, since we barely tim e to holler after him:
never mentioned it. La-La has to “How will I know this man?”
say that it slipped his mind, after “He is a ratfaced little homuncu
which he must invite the guy along lus,” replies Hightops with obvious
on the cruise. This means some distaste, “officious, dull, with a thin
babysitting is required, what with goatee and a bad suit.”
the characters on board who might Which is how it starts.
let slip some embarrassing com
ment.” Although Hightops has not re
“Such as?” quested it, I make inquiries about
“Such as anything that could this tax man. Know your enemy,
broaden the scope o f his inquiries.” and all that, though he is more La-
“And if he does run into such a La’s enem y than mine. But in my
character?” experience, when you deal with La-
“You will intervene, change the La, you can never be too well pre
subject, steer him away.” pared.
So there is my job description. I call up Theo de Voge, who goes
“You understand,” explains High- back with m e so far that we can’t
tops, “that La-La has nothing to rem em ber the day we met. He has
hide. It is only that, should this guy contacts clear across the country
find something, he is bound to won from a lifetime o f selling bar sup
der where the mazuma came from plies, and he promises to find out all
and will look to see if the proper he can about Narvel Moist. I then
taxes were paid. Which o f course return to m y game with Diesel
they were.” W illiam s— losing badly now, as I
“O f course.” cannot concentrate.
“It’s just an annoyance that he After an hour or so, Theo calls.
would pry into that.” There is no one in town by that
“Understood.” name, he tells me, but there is a
Hightops searches my face for a ch aracter o f similar description
moment as if to measure how deep known to the denizens o f Ottawa-
that understanding is, and then, Hull.
apparently satisfied, moves to the “H e’s a good-time Charlie, this
door. “For this La-La gives you free individual, well known along the
54 JAS. R. PETRIN
strip. He is unm arried and lives mysterious chores for La-La Lloyd.
alone. They call him Belly-Laugh A nd Charley Athens arrives, and
N arvel, or D eep Pockets Narvel, many others.
and even M ister Tips on account of Charley joins me at the rail giv
he’s so generous to the cabbies and ing me a shoulder clap that practi
waitresses. His number-one inter cally lifts me over the side, saying,
est is playing the horses.” “I guess we are in La-La’s good
“Are you telling me he’s not a sad- books, as I never think to see the
sack?” day when I would receive a free
“N ot at all.” cruise from him, free food and drink
This sounds nothing like my guy. and I don’t yet know what else.” He
“A re you sure it’s the same man? lets out a boisterous ha-ha and, see
M y guy is a gloomy Gus.” ing my hands empty, adds, “Can I
Theo clears his throat. “Listen to get you a beer?”
me. This Narvel Moist has a feder Generous with the free provi
al job. He is a little guy who wears sions.
a chin-sweeper, which is how you It is interesting to see all these
described him. And how many Nar characters in one spot, so interest
vel M oists can there be in the ing that I almost do not notice a
world?” small guy skulking up the gang
H e’s got me there. I am trying to way wearing a wispy goatee, a dark
imagine two Narvel Moists, and so frown, and a gray suit that looks as
caught up am I in this speculation if h e shoves it under his bed at
that Diesel Williams takes me for night for lack o f a clothes hanger.
another fiver. Hightops was right. He is a most
uninspiring individual. He looks as
I reach the dock early so as to be if his liver has been yanked out,
present from the first moment Nar trampled on, and shoved back into
vel M oist arrives— I haven’t for him upside down. He picks his feet
gotten La-La’s threat. The Lady La- up and sets them down like two
La is a fine-looking craft, long and small tombstones he is freighting
sleek and close to the water, and af around.
ter boarding her, I stand peering Belly-Laugh Narvel?
down from the rail as the passen I sidle over to him.
gers roll up in dribs and drabs. “Nice evening.”
They are som e crew. H e barely looks up.
M ave Irsglis, A pe Arms Getz, Fif “Is it?”
ty-two Wilbur, Honeyboy Watson— “Fine night for a cruise.”
and that’s for starters. There are “I don’t like cruises. It’ll be dull,
the Papadopoulos brothers, alert all that floating around.”
and silent, and Mao Chao on his A delightful sailing companion.
motorbike, M ao being employed at “I hope we don’t sink,” he adds
Donny Rumano’s hotels, the Brook- with a distrustful glance at the
side and the Westbrook, but said to painted ironwork.
be earning his serious money doing “Well, this is not a lake,” I remind
THE CRUISE 55
him, “so if we go down, we can swim am saved from having to make fur
to shore.” ther small talk with this bird— if
“I don’t know how to swim. And saved is the right expression— by
it’s getting cold.” the arrival o f B anjo-Eyes Bunce
H e pulls his lapels together. and Dino “Th e Dinosaur” Acker
“We can go below.” man, tw o oldtim ers w ith more
‘I t ’ll be smoky down there.” years between them than a history
I have known this guy five min lesson, and who hate each other so
utes, and already I want to hold his intensely they can’t let a day go by
head under water. without insu ltin g each other.
But he’s right. It is smoky below. They’ve got Bill Entwhistle with
There is scarcely one individual in them as a referee.
the place w ho doesn’t smoke like a “We nearly m issed the boat,”
h ot clutch, and w h at with the complains Bill, “on account o f these
crowding and the low ceiling, it is two artifacts swinging haymakers
like a Bogart movie before the shots at each other in the parking lot. I
ring out. had to deal with them most severe
It’s a nautical-looking room, what ly. I believe I’ve m anaged to con
can be seen o f it through the haze, vince them to conduct themselves
w ith m ahogany trim and brass like clergym en for the next few
lanterns and a m g that is all ships hours.”
and sailboats. At the bar Moist or “M be a clergyman,” growls Ban
ders scotch— a straight shot which jo-Eyes, his thick spectacles flash
he gulps down immediately and a ing nastily, “from the Middle Ages,
couple o f doubles as a carry-out. and break that granddad’s bones.”
For myself it’s ginger ale, which is “And I’ll do something to him,”
a drink I don’t care for but one that snaps The Dinosaur, “with hot pok
can pass for a number o f things. ers and rusty fire tongs.”
“Secondhand smoke,” complains “Can it,” says Bill, “w e’re mov
Narvel, waving his hand before him ing.”
as we find a seat, “it can kill you,” And so w e are, the boat edging
and he lets out a wheeze as if he is out into the river with a scurry of
already dying. crewmen and a rumble o f diesels.
“I hear you like to play the hors “I’m Entwhistle,” says Bill, ex
es,” I remark conversationally. tending his hand across the table at
I mean it as an innocent com Narvel.
ment, but Narvel M oist takes it “Moist,” says Moist, with a limp
hard, bracing him self suddenly as clasp.
if a cool breeze has ju st shot down “You look like a rat,” observes
his neck. Banjo-Eyes Bunce.
“How do you know that?” As M oist sits there wondering
“A little bird told me.” what, i f anything, he should make
It is clear that I have upset him, of this unprovoked attack, the over
for he gulps his whisky like a head speakers crackle and the voice
thirsty camel driver. Thankfully I o f Hightops issues forth.
56 JAS. R. PETRIN
"Thank you, one and all, for at the Shrine circus. Without hesita
tending the maiden voyage o f the tion he launches “Heartbreak H o
M. S. Lady La-La . . . ” tel” at us in an eerie, penetrating
“W hat’s the M. S. m ean?” asks voice.
Bill. “I never heard an Elvis imper
“Knowing La-La, it means ‘my sonator sound like Hank Snow be
ship,’ ” grumps The Dinosaur. fore,” remarks Bill Entwhistle,
“I had a son-in-law w ho looked blinking his baggy eyes.
like you,” B anjo-E yes continues, “1 think he sounds like Rosemary
still studying Narvel. “He got killed Clooney,” says Banjo-Eyes.
in a cellar.” “His voice is a little thin.”
“I am sorry Co hear that,” replies “But he isn’t,” snarls The Dino
Narvel Moist, his w ary expression saur. “On his worst day Elvis nev
conveying clearly that he isn’t sor er weighed that much.”
ry one bit. With a start I suddenly realize
“How did it happen?” I put this in that Narvel is no longer with us.
to keep the conversation rolling. Then I spot him making his way
Banjo-Eyes gives it some back from the bar with two more
thought. He pops his upper plate scotches clasped in his hands. If the
out o f his mouth, inspects it as if the guy continues to drink like this, I
blam e might be laid there, then will have a very easy time o f it.
deftly pops it back in. “It ju st hap He’ll be in no condition to under
pened. My point is he also looked stand a word that is said to him.
like a rat.” “I’m going on deck,” says Narvel.
“I f rats were being killed it’s a “I hate it here.”
wonder you survived,” The Dino “But you said you were cold.”
saur tells him , and Bill shoves in “I’m warmer now.”
quick with, “Now, now, boys!” I can believe it, the way he’s guz
Hightops is winding up his ora zling the scotch.
tion: “. . . so settle back and enjoy On deck he slumps against the
and be sure to tell your friends and rail, setting one o f his drinks down
relatives what a great time you had on it and trapping the other in his
here tonight.” clammy fingers. He stares straight
I am not sure it is wise to encour down between his wrists at the
age the friends and relatives o f this turgid water sluicing by.
crowd, but who am I to say? “Your friend isn’t very polite.”
Several musicians have mounted “You mean Banjo-Eyes? He isn’t
the bandstand, and they suddenly my friend. He isn’t anyone’s friend,
break into a fanfare, introducing so far as I am aware.”
the entertainment, an Elvis imper “He called me a rat.”
sonator. This is a chunky, satchel “No, he said you looked like one.”
shaped guy w ho looks as much like “A man can’t help what he looks
Elvis as One Lung Kroeker, but like.”
makes up for it with a four-inch I feel I should suggest that this
pompadour and more sequins than isn’t entirely true. He can cut his
THE CRUISE 57
hair one way or another, gain At that moment a hand grips m y

weight or lose it, or w ear a wispy, shoulder. It’s Jimmy Quicks with a
ratty looking beard and store his message from the commodore. A nd
suit under his bed. A man does who is the commodore when he’s at
have options. Below decks, Elvis is home, I want to know, and he in
belting out “Blue Suede Shoes” to forms m e it is La-La Lloyd, who
hoots o f derision. has issued an edict that on board
“Do you know what life is like?” this vessel he is to be addressed by
Narvel asks. “It is like musical that title and no other. “I’m to stay
chairs. When the music is playing, and mind your chum,” Jim m y adds
it’s all fun and games. Then it stops, under his breath.
and you find that you’re the odd “I need another drink,” Narvel
man out.” tells him.
He looks as if he is going to follow The w heelhouse is a sm allish
Elvis into the water. compartment. La-La and Hightops
He says, “You live your whole life, are wedged into it with the cap
and when you’re gone, no one tain, a stiff, worried-looking guy in
cares.” gold braid who is staring gravely up
“I f you don’t mind my saying so, the river as if it has been mined.
you seem fairly depressed,” I ob “W hat do you m ean there’s a
serve. snake loose on the boat?” La-La is
“Well maybe I have a good rea dem anding, his eyes like hard
son.” He hesitates, then adds as if it wedges o f ice. “On m y boat? How
is a thing he does not confide to did it happen?”
just anyone, “I never married. I live “It’s a snake,” explains Hightops,
alone. It isn’t easy being a tax in “belonging to that dancer we hired,
spector.” Taloola what’s-her-name. She says
“Is that what you are?’ I am play it is a part o f her act.”
ing dumb. “Well then, I can see your “I have enough snakes on board
problem. People are probably afraid already!”
to cosy up to you. They probably “This one is a python.”
believe you will be auditing them La-La em its a dry, creaking
before the day is out.” sound.
He nods sadly. “A python? Are you serious? They
“And then there is the great bur swallow cows, for crying out loud! I
den o f forever seeing the worst side want it found right away before we
o f people. You must be something o f start disappearing one by one!”
an expert by now on all of the ways “We’re working on it, boss.”
individuals can put the old scam- “Commodore! Call me com m o
eroo on the tax department.” dore!”
He glances suspiciously at me. “I “Right, chief.”
need another drink.” And Hightops legs it from the
Drawing my attention to the fact room swiftly before anything more
that both his glasses are miracu can be said on the subject.
lously empty. “A snake on my boat,” La-La rat-
58 JAS. R. PETRIN
ties, “that swallows cows i f you can toss! And Elvis, sequins glittering,
believe it.” He suddenly detects my a look of baffled terror on his face,
presence. “And what do you want?” clears the stem rail in a graceful
“You sent for me.” To jo g his arc and hits the water like an ele
memory, I add, T m watching the phant seal.
tax inspector.” I steer Narvel away, seeking
“Oh yes. That little nerd person!” more tranquil surroundings, say
His voice is filled with malevolence. ing lightly, as if it’s a question I ask
“I suppose he’s grilling you about o f everyone, “So how is the investi
me— w hat kind o f business I do, gation going?”
w hat interests I own, how much He rolls a nervous eye at me.
money I have salted away.” “How did you know about that?”
“Not so far. He just drinks and I point out that, being connected
complains a lot.” with La-La, there is no reason why
“W hat about?” I shouldn’t know about it, and after
“He doesn’t like boats, for one musing over my reply, he seems to
thing. H e tells me he can’t swim.” accept it as reasonable logic.
‘Y ou don’t say so.” La-La’s eyes “The investigation is winding
narrow as some little cog rolls over. up.”
“Well, let him keep on com plain “And do you expect a favorable
ing. G ive him more to com plain conclusion?”
about if you have to. That’s the first We have reached the stem and
good news I’ve had since we left he sits down on a capstan, or some
the dock. Pour another bottle into such nautical item. For a little man
him and find out how his investi he is amazing; in spite o f the scotch
gation is going. It would be nice if I he’s ingested, he seems none the
could sleep like an innocent man to worse for it.
night.” “No,” he replies, “I do not.”
As i f this could be possible. Hard news. It won’t help La-La
I rejoin Narvel Moist to find a sleep.
brouhaha breaking out. An unruly “What— ah— is the problem?”
group led by Moe Fitz, Stoplight The din o f the merrymakers is
Jones, Teeth Loepke, and Ape Arms less strident here, a muffled chant
Getz, has laid hands on the unfor dem anding the exotic dancer.
tunate Elvis, bearing him on their Somewhere below us the diesels
shoulders up the com panionway rumble.
and onto the deck. A crowd o f en Narvel holds his drink up to his
thusiasts swarms after them: Boy face, peering into it.
Michael, Yelp Lauder,Too Kool De- “T he problem will become evi
Veaux, and numerous others. dent when the file is sent on to En
“Elvis is now leaving the build forcement.”
ing,” someone shouts. “It hasn’t got there yet?”
“Elvis is now entering the wa “No.”
ter,” someone else adds. “When will this happen?”
There is the old one, two, three— “In a day or two.”
THE CRUISE 59
“With what result, do you think?” told me. H e hears me out, staring
Perhaps I’ve pushed too hard. hard at the river. He is not holler
But it’s a critical point. I look past ing or gettin g excited, but only
him at the river as if I have only a grappling with some inner thought.
passing interest in his answer. It is I have an impression that under
a pleasant sight, the setting sun his dome a machinelike intellect is
turning the muddy water the color noiselessly turning.
o f Lamb’s amber rum. “In a day or two, huh?”
“There will likely be jail time.” “That’s w hat he told me.”
I wince. “The high end?”
“Ah, how much exactly?” This is “That’s w hat he said.”
surely something La-La will want He stands there thinking for an
to know. other minute and then addresses
“Oh, quite a lot, I suppose. The me in a m ost polite tone o f voice:
high end.” “Please w a it outside a moment.
“The high end?” There is a private matter I must
‘W ay up there. Years and years. discuss. Captain, Fd like you to join
Now if you don’t mind, I don’t wish him. You can let Hightops handle
to discuss this further.” the boat.”
Spotting Jimmy Quicks lurking So Hightops takes the helm, and
in the shadows, I give him the nod while he and La-La have a person
and beat it for the wheelhouse. al confab, the captain and I cool our
La-La and Hightops are having heels outside the door.
another exchange. “Nice evening,” I venture.
“That was Elvis, that splash,” “Is it?”
Hightops is explaining. “The pas I m ight as well be speaking to
sengers threw him overboard.” Narvel Moist.
“Did they now?” We are not there two minutes be
‘Yes, sir.” fore H ightops bursts from the
“And did they enjoy it?” wheelhouse and heads aft on the
“Apparently so.” double, his ankle-high, snow-white
“That’s fine, then. He is an en gym shoes going chirp-chirp along
tertainer, isn’t he? Now what about the deck. T h e captain, a look o f ter
the snake?” ror on his chiseled face, lunges for
‘W e’re still looking, chief. Taloola the w h eel to deftly guide us be
w hat’s-her-name w on’t perform tween two towering concrete bridge
without it. She says it is a part of abutments. Minutes later Hightops
her costume.” returns w ith Jim m y Quicks, in
La-La shudders. Then, suddenly forming La-La in a flat, dull voice,
spotting me, his eyes light up. “It seems that Narvel Moist is no
“Good news, I hope?” longer w ith us.”
“N ot exactly.” I am startled to hear this— more
The light goes out. startled than La-La.
I relate to him as clearly as pos La-La tilts his head to one side.
sible everything Narvel Moist has He raises his eyebrows. He does
60 JAS. R. PETRIN
not seem perturbed a t the news. “So he is gone and nobody knows
He steps from the wheelhouse and why. Good. W hat do we think hap
shuts the door as if to keep the cap pened to him ? Jimmy?”
tain from being distracted. “What I am thinking,” speculates
“W hatever do you m ean?” Jimmy, “is that maybe the snake
“H e’s disappeared. H e is not on got him.”
the boat.” La-La frowns in concentration,
Now, I don’t know w h y I take the nodding his head.
news so hard, as I don’t care at all ‘Yes, that sounds plausible. In
for Narvel Moist, but I feel at that fact it sounds quite likely. . . ”
m om ent as i f I have let him down Seeing how this is developing, I
in som e way. cannot restrain myself.
“W ell,” says La-La to Jim m y “No, I don’t think that is possi
Quicks in that confident manner ble.”
o f his, “you w ere w atching him. ‘You don’t?” La-La is looking at
W hat can you tell us?” me as if I have just questioned the
“I dunno, chief. It seem s like a law o f gravity.
mystery.” “No, sir, I don’t. Apart from other
La-La has a crocodile grin. reasons, even the largest snake
“ Elaborate!” would take quite some time— an
“Well, boss, the last tim e I see the hour maybe—to devour a meal like
joe h e is there at the rail sipping a Narvel.”
double scotch and not looking too Irritated, La-La turns to High
pum ped. In fact he is looking like a tops. “What about that?”
flat tire. W hen Hightops appears Hightops scratches his head.
and starts talking to him , I think “Well, how about this? The snake
it’s okay for m e to w ander off for a didn’t eat him, but it scared him. It
minute to bum a cigarette. I am on scared him so much he jum ped
ly gone a minute or two, but when clear over the rail.”
I return, the guy is n ot standing I have to shake my head. “That
there any more.” guy couldn’t have jum ped over the
“You don’t say.” rail if it was lying flat on the deck.
“I ask Hightops w here the joe is, Anybody w h o knew him would
and he says I’m the one w ho has to know that.”
answ er that because I’m the one La-La is getting really peeved
w h o is supposed to be watching now. There is a sheen on his pol
him.” ished brow. H e jerk s the wheel-
“A n d where were y o u ? ” La-La house door open, steps inside, and
asks Hightops. snarls back at Hightops.
“I wandered off also to bum a cig ‘You figure out the details, then.
arette.” You are the one who will have to
A t this point I feel w e ought to be answer to the authorities. Also, it’s
tu rn in g the L ady L a-L a around why I pay you the big bucks!”
and searching the river. But my ad And he slams the door on us.
vice is not sought. Hightops is staring at the door
THE CRUISE 61
with a dumb, hurt look on his face Som ething clicks gently into
when it springs open again and La- place.
La’s head pokes out: If Narvel him self was being in
“And I want it noted that I was vestigated, perhaps he thought,
here with the captain when this when I was questioning him, that I
entire event took place.” was asking into his own difficul
ties. He m ust have been entirely
Hightops indicates we are to say focused on them, which explained
no m ore about it. He lets it be his negative attitude, his long face.
known that this is the official line. And then there was the La-La fac
After a day or two, when the police tor. You might squeeze money from
come looking for Narvel Moist, who an errant businessm an, but you
is reported missing by the hotel he would not ja ck one dim e out o f La-
is staying at, nobody on board the La. With La-La, Narvel M oist was
boat that night can remember any out o f his depth.
thing about him. It’s as if he was
som ewhere else that entire eve The next few days are a little
ning. stressed, w hat with the police step
Theo calls. “I heard about your ping here and there and asking all
pal.” He too speaks as if Narvel was sorts o f questions. There is a certain
my friend. “Too bad about him go tension building. It seem s that
ing missing like that.” sooner or later som eone m ust
“Did you learn anything more break down and say something.
about him ?” Then suddenly the cops are gone.
“Yes, in fact I did. It turns out he They vanish as i f they have
was a real operator. A tax inspector rushed to som e crim e scene far
with a great scam going. He had an away. N o m ore questioning, no
arrangement whereby individuals more bully-ragging, no more “Sir,
made advance payments on their tell me, p le a s e . . . ”
back taxes.” It is while the silence is still set
“Advance payments?” tling that Hightops appears at the
“To him personally.” W estbrook and drags m e into a
This is surprising. comer.
“They actually did that?” “The pressure is off,” he tells me,
“Oh yes. They were more than as if I have not noticed. “I want you
happy to.” to put that word around.”
“But that’s extortion.” I play dumb, not wishing to break
“I don’t know about that. What I his bubble.
do know is they were told that this “C on cernin g.. ”
would guarantee them a favorable ‘Your friend Narvel.” Hightops is
recommendation. And people went clearly having a difficult time sup
for it. Your friend did well with this. pressing his satisfaction.
He had a positive run. But at some “It seem s the authorities have
point his department learned o f it obtained a note which they some
and began to investigate.” how missed the first time, with a
62 JAS. R. PETRIN
dribble o f something— maybe tears guy whom La-La has said will have
— across it.” to provide all o f the answers. He
Or maybe scotch. stands by the cigarette machine,
“A note from Narvel? W hat does his bright white gym shoes glowing
it say?” eerily in the black light, reminding
“Something to the tune o f ‘Good me of how those same shoes went
bye, cruel world— ’ ” chirping very purposefully over the
“Now, listen— ” deck that night.
“I am only giving you the thrust “Here,” he says, handing me an
o f it. It says he can n ot live with envelope.
him self any longer, that h e is sorry I squeeze it. It’s com fortably
he cannot repay the money, which thick.
he m eant to do w h en his horse He says, “It is nothing, real ly, on
came in, which unfortunately did ly that little something I mentioned
not occur.” previously.”
It is a good th in g I don ’t play And with the business between
dum b this time, for H ightops us completed, he suddenly affects a
knows that I have consulted Theo. smile and a breezy manner, re
He says so. marking, “Well. Things worked out
Embarrassed, I say, “Then his in fine after all. But then, o f course,
tentions were good.” with La-La they usually do.”
“Apparently so. B ut h e jumped I can’t argue with that.
anyway.” So I’m playing whisky poker with
“Jumped?” Diesel Williams, and pretty much
“O ff the boat.” beating the pants off him, and at
“You’re sure he jum ped, are you?” the same time I’m relating to him
“He must have.” H ightops’ eyes the entire story, so far as I know it,
never leave my face, so alert is he to about La-La and Narvel Moist. Es
some prevarication. “H is body pecially Narvel.
washed up a couple o f miles far “Life is like musical chairs,” I tell
ther down the river.” him. “One day the music stops and
I close my eyes for a moment. you’re the odd man o u t . . . ”
Poor Narvel. T u rn that top card,” Diesel says.
“W ho found this note?” “He was a lonely guy, I t h i n k . . . ”
“As a matter o f fact, I did. And in “Are you going to play or what?”
the interests o f good citizenship I ‘D o you live alone?” I ask.
made sure the police got hold o f it “Not on Fridays and Saturdays.”
right away.” “It must be a tough thing to live
I’m thinking, so here is a guy who alone. To be really alone. You five
is the last person on earth to see your whole life, and w hen you’re
Narvel Moist alive. H e is also the gone, no one cares . . . ”
guy w ho finds th e m a n ’s tear- “What I want to know,” says Die
stained suicide note. A n d he is the sel, “is what happened to the snake.”
Ante B ellum
E. B. Ruark
ANIJARY, 1863 rest on the flap o f his holster, confi

Captain Albert Benton dent that his cape had hidden the
D’Ossche stepped out o f move. A one-legged man wearing a
Mrs. Brownstein’s establishment tattered and filthy butternut gray
on lower Caiy Street near the Rich uniform and low-brimmed slouch
m ond Gas Works and began walk hat from which all insignias had
ing toward the capital. The laugh been rem oved hobbled into the
ter o f the women quickly faded light. H e supported him self on two
from his mind as a cold blast o f crudely made crutches. “Have you
January air rolled down the James. got a match?” he asked in a weak
D’Ossche flipped the fur collar on and gravelly voice.
his cape up to protect the back o f D’Ossche looked at the man’s de
his neck and pulled his slouch hat plorable condition. How many men
down harder on his head. had he seen blown apart, first at
H e walked with his head down, Malvern Hill, then at the railroad
looking neither to the left nor to cut outside o f Manassas Junction
the right. He didn’t like the way or up in M aiyland at Sharpsburg?
the gaslights competed with the There but for the grace o f God, A l
full moon, and he didn’t like the bert thought, the rawness o f his
way the eerie orange glare pene own wound still fresh in his mind.
trated only partially into the shad D’Ossche took his hand off the hol
ows, leaving a knife-edge break ster and reached into the cartridge
between the light and the dark. box next to it. He had taken the
D ’Ossche worked his way up to wooden block out o f the box and
Main Street, then turned right. The converted it into a miniature haver
street climbing toward the Trinity sack. In it he carried a small da
Church was deserted. The cold, the guerreotype o f his wife, some coins,
hour, and the provost marshal’s a folding knife, and a horn match-
men had combined to strictly en safe. He removed the cylindrical
force the curfew. But D’Ossche container and extended it toward
wasn’t worried. He had paid the the battered soldier.
provost marshal a heavy bribe in “W ould you mind,” the soldier
gold for the passport in his pocket. asked, rocking unsteadily on his
As he neared the Exchange wooden supports. The long brim o f
Bank, D’Ossche heard a subtle the man’s battered hat covered the
cough coming from the deep shad upper portion of his face, but D’Oss
ows o f a particularly dark doorway. che could see his mouth and the
H e stopped and let his right hand short stub o f an old cigar.
63
64 E. B. RUARK
D’Ossche struck a match against offense at being quartered at the

th e w ood o f the doorw ay and Confederate Government Stables,
cupped the flaring stick in the palm despite the fact that my servant, Je
o f his hands. H e extended the light remiah, and his mule were with
toward the wounded stranger. The him. His mood at being cooped up
m an leaned forward, his hat cover with over 100 government mounts
ing D ’Ossche’s hands. Soon the ed extended to the mule, who took it
dying wind carried the acrid smell out on me by lashing a kick in my
o f old cigar up toward D ’Ossche’s direction. The kick glanced o ff my
face and he turned his head slight bad leg, forcing me to limp more
ly to avoid the smoke. The wound than usual. Then, to add the mint
ed soldier straightened, and in the to my julep, the provost marshal’s
sulfurous glow o f the matchlight, m en did not want to release ten o f
D ’Ossche thought h e recognized Hood’s Texans despite my protes
the man’s eyes. tations that they would be march
“D o I know you ?” D’Ossche ing for Petersburg before the next
asked. sunrise. I was o f half a mind to let
“Yes, you do,” the m an answered, the Texans get their own back
leaning forward again to blow the when a courier caught up with me
m atch out. Only this time, when with orders to report immediately
he straightened, he shoved a long to General Longstreet at Secretary
bowie knife deep into D ’Ossche’s o f War Seddon’s office. It was the
diaphragm and into the low er kind of order that impresses many,
chambers o f his heart. including provost marshal flunkies.
Albert D’Ossche looked down at The Texans were released.
the hand and knife handle wedded Outside, Richmond was all abus-
to his chest. H e opened his mouth tle. Hood and Pickett’s divisions
to object but couldn’t make him self were encamped on the south side of
speak. He raised his arms in pro the James awaiting orders. The
test, but only managed to weakly Texans were playing havoc with
grasp his assailant’s wrist. The one- the provost marshal's curfew; Gen
legged m an stabbed him twice eral Pickett was distracted by his
more, and Albert D’Ossche’s hands latest femme fatal, the beautiful
dropped to his side and his knees Miss Sally, and Lieutenant Gener
began to buckle. As his assailant al James Longstreet was closely
helped him drop into a sitting po closeted with the secretary o f war.
sition in the darkened doorway, A l The Federal IX Corps was on the
bert Benton D’Ossche looked into move. Our spies and the northern
his killer’s eyes, recognized them, papers had them heading for ei
and understood why he was dying. ther Charleston, South Carolina;
W ilm ington, North Carolina; or
2. southeastern Virginia. With the
ONE MONTH LATER Federals already in possession of
It had not been a particularly Suffolk and New Bern, any new
good day. M y horse,'O’Malley, took troops in that theater would dan
ANTE BELLUM 65
gerously threaten our vital supply window nervously smoking a long

lines from the south. By detaching black cigar. I always dreaded when
General Longstreet and much of “Old Pete” played politics, especial
the First Corps, General Lee hoped ly where Senator Wigfall was con
to counter the Federal move. cerned. W igfall w as a powerful
I hobbled over to the secretary of m em ber o f the M ilitary Affairs
war's office as quickly as my bad leg Committee and for the past year, a
and the m ud would allow. It had devout enem y o f President Davis’s
snowed and rained recently, turn war policies. I could but wonder
ing the clay o f Richmond’s streets what kind o f plot these three men
into molasses-like quagmires. By were hatching and what part they
the time I reached my destination, wanted m e to play in it.
I was mud-spattered and wished “Captain Wallace, am I glad to
that Jeremiah were with me to give see you.” General Longstreet tossed
m e a quick once over before enter his half-smoked cigar into a brass
ing. However . . . duty is duty, and cuspidor and strode toward me. He
as a battle-hardened veteran, what took me firmly by the shoulders in
should I care for a little mud? a powerful clasp and looked deep
Fortunately, I was not the only ly into m y eyes. “There is a woman
one bespattered. The entire ante who wants to see me . . . ”
room to Seddon’s office was filled Senator Wigfall burst out laugh
with all manner o f businessmen, ing. Lieutenant General James
influence peddlers, lobbyists, dubi Longstreet (“Old Pete”), General
ous hangers-on, and an assortment Robert E. Lee’s war horse— a mas
o f staff-officers. Paradoxically, amid sive, magnificently bearded, bar
all the hubbub, seated in a com er rel-chested man from South Caro
as if she had the whole world to lina who could com m and 40,000
herself, was a plain-looking young men like so many chess pieces—
woman with a big nose. She was was so painfully shy around wom
dressed in widow’s black and ac en other than his wife that it was,
companied by an old Negro woman. indeed, laughable.
The old m am m y rested a thin, “You w ant me to talk to a wom
gnarled hand gently on the young an for y o u ?” I asked with in
woman’s shoulder. credulity.
When called, I presented my or “It’s worse than that,” Secretary
ders to the secretary’s aide and was o f War Seddon interrupted. “She
immediately shown into the inner has been pestering us, me, unbear
sanctum. And what a sanctum it ably since her husband was killed.
was. The gaunt and emaciated sec And since I could do nothing for
retary o f war was seated behind her, she has begun to petition Gen
his desk while the heavily bearded eral Longstreet for redress." Secre
and im posing Senator Wigfall tary Seddon was not a pleasant
paced the room. Not far from them, man to look at. He had long strag
Lieutenant General James Long- gly h air m ore gray than black,
street hovered in the alcove by the sunken eyes, and skin the color o f
66 E. B. RUARK
many o f the corpses I had seen on he turned to me. “Captain Wallace,

the battlefield. my back is against the wall. The
“W hy should she petition Gen secretary has called in a favor, and
eral Longstreet?” I asked. you are it. They have ju st handed
“Her husband was a captain in me an impossible task. I am being
the H am pton Legion and served obliged to serve three masters,
under me prior to my election,” Sen President Davis, Secretary o f War
ator Wigfall explained. Th e pugna Seddon, and General Lee. They
cious senator had been a nominal have saddled me with three con
brigadier in the legion that fought current, incompatible, and conflict
under General Longstreet. A n ar ing assignments, and it will be a
dent duelist who had killed his man miracle if I can succeed at any o f
and been wounded in return, he them. I need you to handle this
had also been one o f the regular matter in order to curry favor with
carousers at the gen eral’s mess the secretary. It’s as simple as that.”
during the winter after the Battle “What would you like me to do?”
o f First Manassas. I asked.
“She wouldn’t happen to be the “Find out who killed that young
young wom an in black sitting by woman’s husband and why.”
your aide’s desk?” I asked Secre “And my orders?”
tary Seddon. ‘You will have carte blanche from
“You saw her, then?” the General me and Secretary Seddon, and if
asked. you need any other assistance,
“M erely noticed how out o f place Senator Wigfall will also be at your
she looked,” I commented. disposal.”
‘Perhaps you would be so good as “And when I’ve finished?”
to handle this young wom an’s prob “When you are finished, you will
lem?” the General asked. get your backside on that thorough
“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” I bred animal o f yours and report to
said. my headquarters w herever they
“H er husband w as m urdered may be as quickly as possible.”
several weeks ago, practically on
our doorstep,” Seddon explained. 3.
“Probably an attem pted robbery Mrs. Albert D’Ossche was young
gone awry.” er than I expected, late teens, with
“I thought since you handled that raven black hair swept back in a se
‘other m atter’ so efficiently, you vere bun. She had thick but well-
might so put your talents to this defined eyebrows, a large nose, and
one, too,” General Longstreet said. black, expressive, Indianlike eyes.
“If you so order, sir.” Despite the nose, she carried her
“Gentlemen, excuse us for a mo self like a true patrician, a young
ment,” G eneral L ongstreet said, woman definitely to the manner
steering m e to the coatroom that born, one o f our m any southern
abutted the secretary o f war’s office. belles turned widow.
Once inside, having closed the door, “I think my husband was in some
ANTE BELLUM 67
kind o f trouble.” She sighed deli drink except at social occasions and
cately, Secretary Seddon had given then only moderately, and he ab
us the use o f a small antechamber horred gam ing in any form. M y
to one o f his aide’s offices. It was a husband was also ten years m y se
very tiny room with three chairs nior, and he assured me that his
and an equally small writing desk. wild oats w ere completely sown.”
Mrs. D’Ossche stood staring out the “So what does that leave you?” I
window at the leafless branches o f asked.
a Linden tree, slowly wringing a “Blackm ail, Captain W allace,
white handkerchief in her black- blackmail.” She twisted the hand
gloved fingers. kerchief so tight I could see the ten
“W hy do you think so?” I asked, sion in her forearms through the
looking for a chair to lean against. material o f her sleeves.
Despite my leg, it would have been “W ithout appearing indelicate,
improper for me to seat m yself Mrs. D’Ossche, is there any reason
while she was still standing. Even for blackmail?” I asked.
her mammy stood unobtrusively in “N ot to m y knowledge. But what
the background, almost blending else could it be? As I said, my hus
into the mural that covered the band was considerably older than I.
wall opposite the window. We were married ju st before the
Mrs. D’Ossche turned to me and war began. We have no children.
gave me a sad little smile. “Since And to be perfectly frank, I would
my husband left to fight in the war, not have noticed the discrepancy
the running o f certain aspects o f had it not been for Effie.”
Mayfield, our plantation, has de “Effie?”
volved to me. For the past three “My personal servant.” She sig
years it has been my raison d ’etre, naled toward the old N egro with
and I have kept an exact account an almost imperceptible tilt o f her
ing o f our domestic finances. It is head.
not surprising that certain irregu I nodded.
larities have come to my attention.” She proceeded: “She came to me
“Such as?” to stop our overseer from dividing
“Discrepancies. Nothing inordi up one o f our fieldhand families.
nately complex. But regular short When our overseer told m e that he
falls for the same large amount con was ju st following m y husband’s
verted to gold quarterly.” express orders, that’s w hen I
“Had you discussed this w ith checked the plantation records and
your husband?” I asked with all discovered that m y husband had
delicacy. been selling off property on a regu
“I discreetly mentioned it to him lar basis and not entering it into the
during his recent convalescence, household accounts.”
and he assured me that it w as “When was the last time you saw
nothing to worry about.” your husband?” I asked.
“And you believed him?” “Just after the new year. His
“W hy not? My husband did not wound was healed and he left to re
68 E. B. RUARK
port back to his regiment. Howev pull some o f Porter A lexander’s

er, ju st before he left, he sold an cannon?
other one o f our fieldhands for gold.
W hen he was killed, he had close to 4.
one thousand, six hundred dollars It was midnight. Captain Peter
deposited in the Exchange Bank.” Kingeiy stood by the stove in the
Mrs. D ’Ossche unwound th e hand Richmond, Fredericksburg & Po
kerchief and wiped her eyes. She tomac depot waiting for the train
was crying silently. that would take him back up to the
W h en she com posed herself, I A rm y of Northern Virginia. He
asked her how I could keep in con warmed his hands over the hot
tact with her. She said she was not metal, then rubbed them together
going back to Mayfield, and what briskly The depot was full o f sol
with the gold on hand, she had de diers, all o f them wounded, going
cided to take a house in the city nowhere, just lingering and trying
“T h e hotel room is so painfully to stay warm. The provost m ar
sm all,” she explained. “T h ere is shal’s men had just come through
only space enough for a bed, a looking for some o f Hood’s Texans.
washstand and a glass cover. Why, The soldiers had broken up anoth
I am forced to hang my best dress er “confectionery” shop. Kingery
es on wooden pegs behind the door, smiled. T ie re were many “confec
can you imagine?” tioneries” dotting the streets o f
A fte r the d ep riv ation s I had Richmond. They were seedy, dingy
seen ou r gallan t boys en du re, storefronts where the landlords
dresses on wooden pegs seem ed kept a few indigestible horse-cakes
too trivial to matter. B u t I chose on display in the window as a blind
not to com m ent and nodded unfor the barroom in the back.
derstandingly and w ondered how Kingeiy did not begrudge the Tex
Mrs. D ’Ossche would b ea r up u n ans their wildness. On the line, he
der th e conditions brought about liked those long-haired, wild, and
by th e U nion blockade. W h en our screaming good old boys from the
interview was finished, I walked Deep South. They knew how to
M rs. D ’Ossche out o f th e b u ild fight, and they deserved whatever
ing. Before we parted, sh e h an d happiness they could grab.
ed m e a small D aguerreotype o f Captain Kingeiy was on an er
h er husband. It showed a heavily rand for his quartermaster, al
bearded man with a broken nose though he was stretching the limit
and light, piercing eyes. She had and intent o f those orders by being
a carriage waiting for her. I took in Richmond. Everything he had
a lo n g look at the m a g n ifice n t been detached to obtain was cached
m atched pair o f horses and w on at Hanover Junction, halfway be
dered ju st how long it w ould be tween Richmond and Fredericks
before the provost m arshal’s m en burg; however, it had been impera
im pounded them and sen t them tive that he see his old schoolmate.
n orth to the R ap p ah an n ock to But D’Ossche had never shown up.
ANTE BELLUM 69
Captain Kingery had stopped by tell the wounded soldier was pret
Mrs. Brownstein’s, but even they ty much in tatters. “I f you’re cold,
hadn’t seen him since January, and there’s a nice fire at the depot,” he
Albert had left him no new mes said.
sages. It was as if Albert had just “Thank you, Captain,” the one-
dropped o ff the face o f the earth. legged man answered.
Captain Kingery stepped out o f “W here did you get yours?” Cap
the depot and walked across Broad tain K ingeiy asked.
Street toward the new Richmond “A place called Murphy’s Land
Theatre to study the impressive ing,” the other said. “Ever hear o f
row o f classical pilasters that rose it?”
from the theatre’s second floor high Captain Kingeiy clenched his left
into the night sky. Only recently hand into a fist, crushing D ’Oss-
reopened, the new theater had al che’s note. “I didn’t realize there
ready been the scene of an unusu had been any fighting down that
al military action. General J. E. B. way.”
Stuart h im self had ridden into “There h a sn ’t,” the one-legged
town and stopped the show to ar man said. “I ju st wanted you to re
rest several o f his troopers who had member.”
slipped out o f camp to attend the Captain Kingery looked at the
new play. Kingeiy could imagine one-legged soldier in shocked dis
the excited flutter o f the women as belief. S uddenly the man was
the dirty booted, plumed cavalry standing on two good legs and
com m ander strode up and down thrusting a long bowie knife at him.
the aisle with his saber rattling at Kingery parried the blade with his
his side ordering his men out o f arm and received a deep cut for his
their seats. quick thinking. However, rather
Kingery was nervous. Inside the than back away, he lunged for his
depot he was too hot; outside he assailant, realizing that he stood a
was too cold. He inhaled deeply. The better chance grappling with him
night air burned his lungs with the than in a one-sided knife fight. The
continued promise o f winter. two o f them bounced off the side o f
K ingeiy scratched at the palm o f the building and then fell o ff the
his left hand. Tucked into his sidewalk and into the alley.
gauntlet was Albert’s last message K ingery could have called for
from Mayfield telling him to look help, but h e didn’t. He knew who
for him at Mrs. Brownstein’s. the man w as, and it was a private
Kingery began to reach for it when matter. K in gery punched at the
he noticed a one-legged man hob m an’s head with his good arm and
bling toward him in the shadows. tried to keep the other’s knife hand
“Cold night,” the one-legged man pinned d ow n with his w ounded
said softly as they passed. arm. The other grunted as Kingery
Captain Kingery stopped. The connected w ith a few short and
shadows were too deep for him to powerful blows to the head. But he
see the other clearly. But he could had only one arm with which to
70 E. B. RUARK
fight, and the other had two, and changing trains for Petersburg.
eventually the fight began to go the The next morning, Jeremiah had
other’s way. O’Malley saddled and ready for me
Kingery was feeling lighthead by ten o’clock, as I had a veiy un
ed. The cut on his arm was very pleasant call to make. On the
deep. Through the searing pain he southwest corner o f Broad and
could tell that he was losing blood 10th Streets, practically in the
rapidly. He knew he had to break shadow o f George W ashington’s
aw ay or die. However, try as he statue, stood a tw o-stoiy frame
m ight, he could not get the upper building. It was the headquarters of
hand. Cut three m ore times and the provost marshal o f Richmond,
stabbed deeply in his right side, he Brigadier General John H. Winder.
felt his legs buckling beneath him. General Winder was a man with
T h e fight, and life, w ere rapidly a fieiy temper and dangerous man
draining out o f him. ner whose “detectives” inspired fear
However, instead o f finishing him and disgust. They were refugees
off, his assailant stopped fighting from the slums o f Baltimore, every
and backed away. Kingery slumped bit the pluguglies that had made
on to the cold, wet ground and Baltimore a mob city. In ’61 and ’62
watched as the other man walked those detectives pretty much had
out o f the alley. Kingery watched free reign commandeering private
the man pick up the homemade carriages, horses, and all kinds of
crutches and return. K ingeiy stud personal property, including the
ied the ragged shadow as it leaned clothing o f the dead and dying at
a gain st the opposite wall and the hospitals around the city.
tucked its leg back into the strap Winder’s men were so brazen that
th at held its ca lf up against the they finally were brought to heel
back o f its thigh. The shadow hov and the general was forced to “fire”
ered there like the Angel o f Death. them, though most o f them contin
It was the last thing Captain Peter ued to practice their trade, this time
K in geiy ever saw. without the protection o f the
provost marshal’s office.
5. Assistant Provost Marshal Cap
A fter m y m eeting with Mrs. tain Oscarson was the best o f a
D ’Ossche, I arranged to board with bad lot and had managed to keep
the W idow Douglas, where I had his position despite the others fall
recuperated from my wound after ing out. Perhaps it was the fact
the Battle o f Bull Run.* It only cost that he was a bona fide hero and
m e a ham and a sack o f potatoes, had lost an eye at Malvern Hill.
w h ich I obtained from General W hen I went down to Broad and
Longstreet’s aide-de-camp, Capt. 10th, he was the man I wanted to
Fairfax, w hom I w as fortunate see. Fortunately, he was in. He was
en ou gh to run into as he was sitting behind his desk drinking
*In the South, the Battle o f Bull Run refers to a skirmish at Blackburn Ford the day before
the Battle o f First Manassas.
ANTE BELLUM 71
and looking as if he had been in someone could have com e to his

winter quarters up in Fredericks rescue.”
burg. “So w hat does this have to do
“You’re beginning to look like a with D ’Ossche?” I asked.
real soldier,” I said walking up to his “There w as a note from a Mr.
desk. D’Ossche hidden in his gauntlet.”
“Go to hell,” he answered. “Want “H ow did you find out about it so
a drink? You’ll like this.” He held a quickly?” I asked.
ju g toward me. “An officer is killed. It’s m ore the
I took it from him and tipped it provost marshal’s jurisdiction than
up with my elbow and took a quick it is the police’s. That’s where I’ve
taste. It was smooth, real sippin’ been all night, lookin’ over the mur
whisky. I took a longer drink. der scene.”
“W here did you get this stuff?” I “See anyth in g interesting?” I
asked. asked.
“Someone forgot to pay a bribe. It “From the looks o f the ground, I’d
was supposed to go to Sutler Cash- say it was a two-man fight. I didn’t
myer for resale, but I impounded see w here this Captain K ingery
it.” had a knife. He could have pulled
“Living dangerously, aren’t you?” his service revolver, but he didn’t.
“W ho isn’t, nowadays? So what He also didn’t call out. Leads me to
brings one o f General Iongstreet’s think it was somethin’ personal.”
men to see me? Can’t be lookin’ to “N o witnesses?”
free some more rowdies from the “I’m not sure about that. There
First Corps, can you?” were signs o f a one-legged m an on
“I need some information on a crutches. H e either saw the fight or
killing that happened last January. was scared out o f the alley when
An officer named D’Ossche.” the fight started. Either way, no one
“Da-shay? Spell it.” I did and has come forward. Now, w hat have
when I did, I saw Oscarson’s one you got for m e?”
good eye react. He sat back, then I took another drink. Although
leaned forward and pushed the ju g it was far too early in the morning,
in my direction. “Take a swig and this was, after all, the provost mar
look as if this is just a friendly vis shal’s headquarters. Then I told Os-
it,” he said under his breath. carson about my meeting with Mi’s.
I did as I was told. D’Ossche.
“Last night, an officer named “She thinks her husband was be
Peter Kingery was killed in the ing blackmailed,” I said.
alley over by the Richmond The “Well, som ethin’ was goin’ on,”
atre . . . ” Captain Oscarson said.
I pushed the ju g toward him and “W hat if your boss is involved?” I
he took a quick sip. asked.
“ . . . He’d been in a knife fight. “It wouldn’t surprise me.”
Never called out for help. The night “Well?”
watchm en think that i f he had, “Well what?”
72 E. B. RUARK
“Well, is he?” began to wonder how long I could

“How the hell should I know? You drag this inquiry out?
don’t think that I’m goin’ to look “Captain Wallace, how wonderful
into it, do you?” o f you to come back so quickly. A f
“W hat if I find out he is?” ter the distressing silence from Sec
“That’s your problem, not mine. retary Seddon, I am impressed by
O n ly . . . ” your quick action. My compliments
“Yes?” to General Longstreet. W hat news
“Let me know, so I can distance do you have for me?” She was again
myself. I really don’t want to end up dressed in black, however her cos
in Castles Goodwin or Thunder for tume showed none o f the delicate
the next twenty years, i f you know patching that was becom ing so
what I mean.” Captain Oscarson prevalent on many o f Richmond’s
winked and pushed the ju g in my women. She took a seat in a ladder-
direction. back chair near the round table by
the front window and waved for me
6. to sit on the sofa facing her.
Mrs. D’Ossche found a suite o f “That depends,” I said.
room s in a house up on Shockoe “Depends on what?” she asked.
Hill, which was pretty quick work “It depends on how well your
considering the overcrow din g in husband knew a Captain Peter
the city and th e s m a llp o x e p i Kingery.”
dem ic that h ad closed m an y o f “Peter? What does Peter have to
the city’s hom es to all com ers. I do with this?”
w on d ered how she h a d a ccom “Then you know a Captain
plished this feat so q u ick ly . . . Kingery?”
that is, I wondered right up to the “Know h im ... he stood up for my
tim e her servant opened the front husband at our wedding and has
door and I sm elled all th e food. In been a frequent and beloved guest
Richm ond, because o f th e block at Mayfair.”
ade, food was m ore valu able than “Then it is, indeed, m y sad duty
money. to inform you that Captain Kingery
“She brought her ow n food?” I was murdered last night here in
asked. Richmond in very much the same
“M y mistress is very particular circumstances as your husband.”
b o u t what she eats,” Effie said in Mrs. D’Ossche turned white as
that deep slave accent that almost the blood drained from her face,
passes for a language in itself. but she did not faint. She crumpled
I asked to see Mrs. D ’Ossche and forward on the table with her head
was shown into a neatly decorated resting on her arms. Effie appeared
parlor off the front hall. She kept as if from nowhere and took her by
me waiting for a few minutes, but the shoulders.
I didn’t mind because she also sent “I knew there w as som ething
Effie back w ith a cu p o f m ulled wrong,” Mrs. D’Ossche whispered
cider for me. After the second sip, I over and over again to her servant.
ANTE BELLUM 73
“Y essim , yessim ,” E ffie said, said. “I am more concerned with

gently stroking the back o f her mis his good name.”
tress’s head. “I’m afraid I don’t understand,” I
“Mrs. D’Ossche” I said, leaning said.
forw ard in my seat, “how lon g “Captain Wallace, my husband
had your husband known Captain is dead. For some time now, he has
Kingery?” been paying someone a consider
“They went to school together in able amount o f money. W hatever
Charleston. All o f them did.” the reason, I do not want it to haunt
“All o f them?” his memory. I want to find out why,
‘Yes. Peter Kingeiy, my husband, and to make sure that Mayfair will
Phillip Midgley, and James Kaplan. not be placed in jeopardy, if you get
In fact, James performed our w ed m y meaning. I want to be sure that
ding service and Peter and Phillip those payments will stop.”
stood up for Albert.” She sat back “I’ll let you know what I find out,”
up and wiped her eyes with a small I said. I stood up and bow ed.
white handkerchief. “Thank you for the cider.”
“Do you know how I can get in
touch with either Midgley or Ka 7.
plan?” I asked. F ou r d a y s later, I w a s in
“Well, Janies is the minister o f Charleston, South Carolina, thanks
the Third M ethodist Church in to Senator Wigfall. I am continual
Charleston. It shouldn’t be too hard ly amazed how quickly things get
to track him down. As for Phillip, I done when you know the right peo
don’t know where he is. Like my ple. Charleston, where the Federals
husband, I am sure that he has an first lowered their flag on the bat
swered the call to arms.” tlements o f Fort Sumter, was also
“Mrs. D’Ossche, the fact that the departm ent headquarters o f
there was a close relationship be General P. G. T. Beauregard, the
tween your husband and Captain com m ander who opened fire on
Kingery suggests that they may Fort Sumter and later defeated the
have been killed for the same rea Yankees at the First M anassas.
son . . . either something that hap During the bombardment o f Fort
pened here in Richmond or some Sumter, General Beauregard sent a
thing that happened before the three-man commission to demand
war. Are you sure you want m e to Major Anderson’s surrender. One
pursue this matter any further? o f the men on that commission was
W hat I find out m ay be em bar the future Senator Wigfall. Ergo:
rassing to all concerned.” Senator Wigfall needs a favor, he
Mrs. D’Ossche sat up straight in asks Genera] Beauregard; General
the chair and reached out for Effie’s B eauregard responds, and I am
hand. Effie gave it to her and sent south with all due speed.
stepped in close to her mistress’s On the way, I managed to stop off
side. “I am not concerned about my at General Longstreet’s headquar
husband’s honor,” Mrs. D’Ossche ters in Petersburg to report on my
74 E. B. RUARK
progress. The general was not very and were out drinking and acting
talkative. H e was suffering from a with all the irresponsibility o f youth
severe sore throat; however, he did w hen we cam e upon an illegal
ask me to extend his compliments meeting o f several slave women.
to General Beauregard. They were learning how to read
A fter reaching Charleston and and write. They were being taught
paying my respects to the general by a light-skinned young woman
and delivering General Long- named Sabrah Johnson.
street’s and Senator Wigfall’s mes “We thought she was an oc
sages, I went in search o f the Rev toroon, a house domestic teaching
erend James Kaplan. He was not a the others what she had learned
difficult man to find. He was in his at her mistress’s side. Since it was
rectory preparing his Sunday m es an illegal meeting, and since we as
sage. H e was a slender man with a sumed that she was a slave, we did
narrow mustache and sad brown not see the harm in taking our plea
eyes. He had a face made old from sure. She claim ed that she was
worry, and he was more than dis white, but that did not stop us from
tressed w hen I told him o f the tearing off her clothes and taking
deaths o f D’Ossche and Kingeiy. carnal knowledge o f her. Oh God,
“So it has finally come to that,” he she had the most haunting eyes. I
said, sitting back in his chair and still see them in my nightmares.
raising his hands to cover his face. “Later, to our dismay, we learned
“Then your friends died for a rea that she was, indeed, white— the
son,” I said, commenting on his re daughter o f one o f the local planta
action. tion owners. She frequently dis
“I am afraid so, Captain,” he said obeyed the law and taught the local
with a deep sigh o f resignation. “It darkies to read. She used to dress
is a sordid story, one o f which I am in slave’s clothes so as not to at
not proud and one that I had hoped tract attention. As a result o f our at
Albert and Peter were going to set tack, she became with child and
tle.” killed herself rather than face the
“Obviously their efforts failed,” I shame o f her ruination.”
said. “You were never brought up on
“ It appears so,” the reverend charges?” I asked.
agreed. “And since it appears that “Miss Johnson was too ashamed
retribution is to be m y lot, you to appear in court, and the other
m ight as well know the whole hor witnesses were Negroes and they
ror o f it.” were not allowed to testify against
I sat back. a white man.”
He continued: “W hen the four o f “And the blackmail?” I asked.
us w ere in college together, w e “That started about three years
ru in ed a you n g wom an. It h ap ago. Her younger brother, now old
pened in a small place called M ur enough to extract revenge, wanted
p h y’s Landing. We w ere com ing us to pay for what we had done. So
back from some plantation party he asked for gold or else he threat
ANTE BELLUM 75
ened to expose our crime and ruin G eneral B eauregard and his
us the way we had ruined his sister.” staff w ere m ost accom modating.
“ W hy did he wait so long?” I They provided me with the proper
asked. paperw ork and a horse. A short
“When we raped his sister . . . train/riverboat ride later, I was de
yes, rape. W hy not call it what it posited at m y destination. From
really was? W hen we raped his sis the landing, it was only a short ride
ter, he was but a child. Now he to the Johnson plantation.
must be in his early twenties.” The plantation house was set
“W hy not ju st call you out one at back amid a forest o f old, wide oak
a time?” trees heavy with moss. You could
‘T h e Code Duello? He said that it hear birds singing and darkies in
would be too easy, too quick. He the fields chanting. The air smelled
wanted revenge, not justice.” sweet, and you could almost forget
“Well, now that you know, you that there was a war on. Upon my
will be able to defend yourself,” I arrival I presented my calling card
said. and was shown into a large parlor in
“No, Captain Wallace. It was for which several wom en o f varying
that sin that I joined the ministry. ages were sitting in a circle knitting
If God wishes m e to die for it, Twill. socks for the soldiers at the front. At
Whatever my fate, I will not avoid the head o f the circle was a distin
it. Thank you for coming.” guished-looking elderly woman in
her late forties. She was dressed in
8. a simple costume made o f home-
Something was wrong. The Rev spun with an elaborately crocheted
erend Mr. Kaplan’s story did not shawl. But the most striking thing
sit right with m e ... not that he was about her were her eyes. They were
lying. No. I firmly believed he told large, wide-set and very doelike.
me the truth as to what he and his When I entered the room, the ladies
three friends had done... the truth stopped knitting and all stared at
as far as he saw it. It was their vic me. The woman with the distinctive
tim’s brother’s reaction that both eyes was holding m y calling card.
ered me. It was all wrong. When “Captain Wallace,” she said in a
my best friend thought I had in smooth, deep voice. “It is always a
sulted his sister, he challenged me pleasure to meet one o f my son’s ac
to a duel. It’s what you do. It’s quaintances. Did you know him
what’s expected o f a Southern Gen well?”
tleman. That I accidentally killed “Has som eth in g happened to
him was the cross I had to bear. him?” I asked.
But blackmail? No. It would have “Don’t you know?”
been totally out o f character. But if “I’m afraid there has been a m is
not for the young Mr. Johnson, then understanding,” I said. “I came here
who? It was obvious that I needed hoping to speak with your son.”
to m ake a trip out to Murphy’s “Then I fear you are almost three
Landing. years too late,” Mrs. Johnson said.
76 E. B. RUARK
“I beg your pardon, m a’am ?” “Why, of course. He should be in

“M y son died shortly after he en the fields right now. I will send for
listed. H e contracted measles dur him. If you care to wait in the small
ing the m uster and did not survive parlor, I will have someone serve
the crisis. W hich begs the question, you some refreshments.”
Captain Wallace . . . w h y do you Men were starving on the front
want to see him ?” lines. General Lee had sent his
There w as no way I was going to troops scavenging in the woods to
tell her the truth. I did not want her find greens to prevent scurvy, and
to realize how m uch o f her family here at Murphy’s Landing my re
history I knew. “M adam e, it ap freshments could have kept a
pears that someone is perpetrat brigade alive for a month. I ate with
ing a cruel jok e in your son’s name only a modicum o f guilt.
and I have been sent to look into Pompey was a handsome yoim g
the matter.” black man with wide shoulders,
Mrs. Johnson turned ashen and good teeth, and an attitude that
called for her smelling salts. When was sure to unleash an overseer’s
she regained her composure, she whip. He had undoubtedly been
asked m e to explain. I lied again raised as a house servant, m ost
and told her that it had to do with likely as young Johnson’s whipping
the selling o f stolen goods to the boy and valet. The way he was
army. pouting, he was obviously unhappy
“I can n ot believe th a t anyone at being demoted to fieldhand. I
could be so cruel as to use a dead asked to speak to him alone.
boy’s nam e to make an illegal prof “How long w ere you with the
it,” she said. young Mr. Johnson?” I asked.
“I am afraid war often brings out “Froms de time I wuz but a bid
the worst in people,” I answered. dy baby,” he said in the fieldhand
“W ho k n ew you son h ad passed dialect.
on?” “You were raised as a house ser
“Practically everyone in the coun vant,” I said. “You can probably
ty,” she answered. “He’s buried out speak better than I can. So quit
by the big oak next to the garden. putting on the dog.”
It was quite the m ost m oving o f “Did you come here to buy m e to
ceremonies.” dig ditches for the army?” he asked.
“As is only fitting,” I commented. “No.”
Mrs. Johnson bowed delicately in “Then why?”
her chair. ‘W as anyone with him “Did you like your young mas
during his final days?” ter?”
“W hy, yes. Pom pey w en t with “Suppose.”
him to the muster and stayed with ‘Would you be upset if someone
him right through to the end. He were using his name to com mit a
was th e one w ho brou gh t him crime?”
home.” “Suppose it would depend on the
“M ight I speak with him ?” crime.”
ANTE BELLUM 77
“What did you think o f your mas left. But before I departed, I took
ter’s sister?” Pompey up on his suggestion and
“She taught me to read and walked out to the garden. U nder
write.” the oak tree, there were three
That was one hell o f a confession. graves. One headstone read: TO MY
If anyone else heard it, he would DARLING DAUGHTER / SABRAH JOHN
have immediately been sold south. SON 1838-1855. The second stone
“Do you know what happened to read: in devo ted m em o r y to a
her?” YOUNG SOLDIER / BRUCE JOHNSON
“She was raped by some white 1842-1861. The third stone just read:
men and she killed herself.” b a r k l e y JOHNSON. There was no
“Did that bother you?” sentiment nor date. But there were
“There are a lot o f slaves on this flowers.
plantation that don’t have that As I was standing there, a slave
luxury,” he said. came out to the garden with a hoe
“What if I told you someone was and started m oving dirt around
making money off o f her death,” I listlessly. “Is Barkley the father?” I
said. asked.
“Then that would be a crime,” the “No, sah. Mr. Johnson is with his
young black man answered. regiment in Vicksburg.”
I took a chance and told him “Then who is Barkley?”
what I knew. He stood there staring “It’s a name no one on this plan
at the wall above my head listening tation is allowed to speak.”
to every word but pretending not to “Then where do the flowers come
hear a thing. from?” I asked.
“There was a nurse who helped “That’s the amazin’ part. They
take care o f the dying. He was ju st always appear by magic,” he an
po’ white trash. But he listened to swered.
the young master when he was
delirious and learned the whole sto 9.
ry. His name was Ellison. Said he It took m e about two weeks to
lived on the Nolochucky. He should track down Mr. Ellison. He was liv
n’t be too hard to find. Just look for ing in a cabin northeast o f C hat
some po’ white trash what’s come tanooga. However, “living” was not
into some money.” the operative word. He had been
“Thank you,” I said. d ead for q u ite so m e tim e. H e
“Miss Sabrah, she was real good hadn’t died pretty. Someone had
to us. She took care o f us. Even tied him to a chair and worked him
helped some from other plantations over with a knife. A t least, that was
get north. It might be real nice o f my supposition based on the way
you to pay your respects out by the his flesh had fallen away from his
big oak tree near the garden,” Pom- bones, almost as if portions o f him
pey said as he walked out o f the had been flayed and the flesh left
room. hanging. But that m eant he had
I thanked Mrs. Johnson, then been dead long before either D ’Oss-
78 E. B. RUARK
che or Kingery. At th is point, I burg all this time. I found him play
w asn’t sure ju st where m y investi ing cards in a hell-hole nicknamed
gation was leading. I headed back The Devil’s H alf Acre, where the
to Richmond to report m y findings soldiers ran chuck-a-luck boards
to Mrs. D ’Ossche. O n the way despite their officers’ attempts to
through Petersburg I also reported close the place down. M id gley
to General Longstreet, w ho seemed w asn ’t winning. I figured th at I
to take great glee in m y sleuthing. would wait to talk to him after he
It was as if it gave h im a respite lost his stake. By then he would be
from the cares o f command. in a really foul mood and m ore apt
W hile I had been traipsing to say something useful.
around, the Federal cavalry had On my way out I bumped into a
m ade a reconnaissance in force one-legged man. I said, “Excuse
across the Rappahannock, and me.” He grunted, looked at me, nod
General Lee had ordered Hood’s di ded, and hobbled on. I walked down
vision north just in case this was the street to a point where I could
the beginning o f a n ew offensive see both the front and th e back
under General Hooker. It wasn’t. doors and waited. The one-legged
Hood never even had a chance to man came out the front and began
detrain before he w a s ordered walking in my direction, turning
south again. However, many o f his around now and again to assess his
men took advantage o f the change distance from the gaming hall. As
o f trains in Richmond to let off a lit he passed me I said, “This is the
tle steam, to the ch agrin o f the best spot to watch for Midgley. You
provost marshal and h is men. Gen can see both the front and the back
eral Longstreet was talking about from here.”
an offensive against Suffolk in “I beg your pardon?” The m an’s
hopes o f provoking an error on the right hand slipped from his crutch
Federals’ part. His plan was to and disappeared under his tattered
launch it som etim e in the first cape.
w eek o f April, weather depending. “I’d advise keeping your hand off
H e offered the strong suggestion that knife, Mr. Johnson.” I made a
that I wrap up my investigation small motion with my wrist so that
before the offensive began. I told he could see the barrel o f m y ser
him I would. vice revolver pointing at his stom
ach from beneath my cloak. “It’s
10. cocked,” I said.
The last man I needed to see was “How did you know it was me?”
Phillip Midgely. Once again, Gen he asked.
eral Beauregard’s sta ff cam e “Your eyes,” I explained. “Looking
through for me. Midgley was a Cap at you is like looking at your moth
tain with a South C arolina regi er. I suppose your sister also had
m ent that had been ordered up to those eyes. The Reverend Mr. Ka
support the Army o f Northern Vir plan said that they h au n t his
ginia. He had been in Fredericks dreams.”
ANTE BELLUM 79
“They should haunt his dreams nam e and that you spoke w ith
after what they did. How did you Pompey. T h at you would be here
know I would be here?” only stands to reason. The Rever
“The dead Mr. Ellison and the end Mr. Kaplan is not going any
flowers on your grave.” where. You have already killed
“H ow do you make the segue be D ’Ossche and Kingery. To be
tween those two items?” avenged, you would have to kill
“From your headstone I deduced Midgley before the Yankees did it
that you were still alive. It had no for you.”
date, no words o f love. Your broth “W hat do you intend to do with
er and sister were dead, therefore m e now?”
the flowers must have come from “Nothing. Your vendetta against
someone not o f your family. Since your sister’s rapists is yours and
your m other has banned your yours alone. I was asked to m ake
name, the flowers must have come sure th at the extortion stopped
from the slaves. Now, why would and you have taken care o f that
slaves put flowers on a white man’s m atter for me. M y involvement is
grave?” over.”
‘You tell me.” “Then you don’t intend to stop
“Your sister was raped while me?”
teaching Negroes to read and write. “No.”
Pompey hinted that she was part o f “Then w h y are you here?”
the Underground Railroad. You are “I just w ant to be sure that your
persona non grata in your own revenge extends only to the men
home, yet you are respected, if not who ruined your sister and not to
loved, by your servants, which leads their families.”
me to believe that you, too, are an “And i f I give you my word?”
abolitionist, which is also why you “I’ll holster this pistol and leave.”
cannot challenge your sister’s tor ‘Y ou would believe me?”
mentors to a duel. They would not ‘Yes.”
consider you a gentleman and B a rk ley J oh n son ’s h an d re-
therefore would not be honor-bound emerged from beneath his tattered
to meet with you. And so you are cape and he hobbled over next to
using this war to settle a personal me and turned toward the gam ing
matter. As far as Mr. Ellison is con hall. Y o u say this is the best spot to
cerned, I’m taking a wild guess that watch both doors?”
you learned that someone was ex “Good luck, Mr. Johnson,” I said
torting money in your brother’s as I walked away.
M inor League
Steve Hoekensmith
here are three detective glanced at a piece o f paper in his
T agencies listed in the River

City, Indiana, phone book.
hand, then looked back up at the
house. Finally, he shut off the en
gine and got out o f the car. He was
Two o f them have ads with pictures
and slogans and big logos. One o f a tall man, fortyish, thin and bald
them is ju st a line o f text: “Erie In ing. He wore gray slacks and a
vestigations, 1451 Hart Road,” and white short-sleeved shirt with pin
then the phone number. stripes and a wide blue tie.
Larry Erie’s friend Bass thought Erie stepped out o f the house,
that was a big mistake. careful to shoo the cats away from
“It pays to advertise,” Bass said. the door with one foot. “Can I help
“N o one’s gonna hire you to find you?” he asked.
their car keys when all you’ve got’s Ault still looked confused. He
that dinky little line there.” glanced at the piece o f paper again,
Erie ju st shrugged. He wasn’t so then looked back up at Erie, who
sure about this private detective stood there watching him in his
thing, anyway. He was a retired cop sweatpants and wrinkled, ketchup-
living alone. Wasn’t he a bit old to freckled shirt.
be playing Sam Spade? “This is 1451 Hart Road?”
He framed his detective’s license “That’s right.”
and hung it in the living room— a Ault turned and looked at the
room he almost never went in any street. “Is there another Hart Road
more— and tried to forget it. around River City?”
So w hen Frank A ult rolled up “No.”
Erie’s driveway in his silver 1990 Ault looked at Erie’s house. He
Cadillac, Erie assumed he was an seemed baffled by what he saw.
insurance salesman. O r lost. “Why don’t you tell m e what
E rie’s cats told him Ault was you’re looking for and maybe I can
coming. Erie didn’t get many visi help you find it.”
tors. When he did, Mae and Goldie The man’s eyes snapped back to
would jum p up on the couch near Erie. He looked stricken. “No, that’s
the bay window at the front o f the okay, thanks. I'm j u s t . . . I’m look
house to watch what was going on ing for a business.” He was backing
in the driveway. Erie walked over to up as lie spoke, starting to turn and
the window, and he and the cats go back to his car.
watched Ault. The man sat in his Erie wondered what kind o f bus
car for a moment, the engine run iness this nervous-looking man
ning. He looked confused. He could be searching for. A pom shop?
80
MINOR LEAGUE 81
A nd then it hit him. o f law yers and an orthodontist.

Oh, my Lord. I have a client. Erie p egged A ult for the m ou th
“You wouldn’t be looking for Erie man.
Investigations, would you?” “So then it’s Dr. Ault, right?”
The man stopped. He looked at A u lt s m ile d . It w a s a h a l f
E rie for a moment, m outh h a lf hearted smile, but his teeth were
open, obviously calculating some straight and white.
noncommittal answer. “Yes,” he said. “The team’s ju st a
“W hat makes you ask that?” he sideline— something my partners
finally replied. and I do out o f sheer o f love o f the
“I’m Erie. I f you want to come in game.”
side, we can discuss whatever it is E rie n od d ed . “So w h a t’s th e
that brings you out here today.” problem ?”
A u lt looked both relieved and A u lt’s wan smile crum bled.
skeptical. “Okay,” he said. “We’ve had a theft. A major one. If
Erie opened the door for him. word gets out, we’ve got a public re
“Be careful,” he said. “Don’t let lations nightmare on our hands.
the cats out.” We’re going to look like fools. The
B rew ers aren’t exactly m akin g
“I’m Frank Ault,” the man said. money hand over fist, and a blow
The pause after his words told Erie like this could . . . ”
that he was supposed to recognize “Dr. A ult,” Erie cut in, “m aybe
the name. He didn’t. The pause con you’d better just begin at the be
tinued. ginning.”
Ault shifted his weight on the liv T h ey were words h e’d said so
ing room couch. Mae the cat sat on many times before in offices and
the arm at the opposite end o f the interrogation rooms and victim s’
couch, watching him. It seemed to homes. It felt very strange to say
make Ault nervous. them in his own house, sitting in a
“I’m one o f the co-owners o f the rocking chair, a cat curled up in his
River City Brewers.” lap. W hat had he gotten him self in
“Oh, really?” to?
Erie went to see River City’s base A u lt leaned forward on the
ball team play at least four or five couch. “You have to understand
times each summer. It was an in something, Mr. Erie,” he said, his
dependent team, part of a small voice low, as if he feared that the cat
league called the Pioneer Associa sitting nearby was eavesdropping.
tion. The players were mostly twen “M y partners and I expect discre
ty-something wannabes and kids tion. That’s why we want to hire a
fresh out of high school, almost none private investigator to look into
o f whom would ever make it to a re this. It’s very important that we
al farm team, let alone the Major avoid publicity.”
Leagues. But it was enough for a Erie nodded. “I understand, Dr.
town like River City. Ault,” he said. But it felt wrong. If
The team was owned by a couple this involved a felony, it was a m at
82 STEVE HOCKENSMITH
ter for the police. He shouldn’t go is all about? Somebody stole some
playing cops and robbers without a forgotten quarterback’s old jock
real b a d g e . . . should he? strap? After spending the last two
A u lt leaned back on the couch, decades of his career investigating
lookin g a little m ore relaxed. violent crimes, he was accustomed
“Good,” he said. “Do you go to many to cases with a little more weight.
Brewers games?” “Well, the Wall o f Fame has nev
E rie assum ed that this, som e er been all it could be,” Ault contin
how, was the beginning o f the sto ued, “because we’ve never had any
ry. People have to tell their own sto thing from Stormy Weathers.”
ries in their own way. So he just Erie knew the name. “The old
said, “Sure.” Negro Leagues player,” he said.
“ So you’ve seen the River City Ault smiled. It was a bigger, truer
Wall o f Fame?” grin this time. Clearly, the man was
A u lt saw the blank look on Erie’s in love with baseball.
face. “That’s right,” he said. “The great
“A t Lloyd Field?” est ballplayer River City ever pro
T hat didn’t help. duced. I’ve always felt it was a
“B y the main concession stand?” shameful oversight, and I’ve been
Still nothing. working to correct it. And finally, I
“Between the m en’s room and did. A few days ago, Stormy Weath
the wom en’s room?” ers’ daughter sent me the bat he
N ow Erie got it. Th e Brewers used in the 1946 Negro Leagues
played their hom e gam es in an old World Series. He hit six home runs
baseball stadium built in the 1940s, with it in that series alone. It’s a
back when River City had a farm piece of baseball history.”
team for the Cincinnati Reds. In “And now it’s been stolen,” Erie
side, not far from one o f the en said.
trances, there were eight or nine Ault nodded sadly. “That’s right.
autographed pictures up on the It didn’t even spend one full night
wall and a glass case no longer than in the Wall o f Fame vault.”
you r standard dining room table. Erie assumed “the vault” was the
T h e pictures were o f local sports glass case between the men’s and
heroes. The case contained m e wom en’s restrooms. “This hap
m entos from their careers: a bas pened last night?” he asked.
ketball used in the state high school “Yes.”
championships in 1963, a football Goldie the cat looked up at Erie
helm et worn by an All-American and meowed. You aren’t petting me,
running back, stuff like that. Erie she was telling him. What gives?
didn’t know that this little shrine Erie stroked the overweight tab
h ad a name. He suspected that no by’s broad back. She began to purr.
one else did either, other than the ‘Tell me the specifics,” he said to
team ’s owners. Ault.
“Sure, I know what you mean,” “Well, Federal Express dropped
h e said, thinking, Is that what this the bat off at my office around two.
MINOR LEAGUE 83
I left there a little after six and took mers as w e get out o f anyone before
the bat over to Lloyd Field. There they get a real jo b and move on
wasn’t a gam e yesterday, so the with their lives.”
place was em pty except for two of “So what were Johnson and Holt
our players: Del Johnson and Lee doing when you saw them? Work
Holt.” ing on Johnson’s pitching?”
“The players can get into the sta Ault nodded.
dium whenever they want?” “And you put the bat in the Vault’
“No, they don’t have keys. John and left?”
son and H olt stayed behind after “That’s right. With a little plaque
that afternoon’s practice.” I’ve had ready for weeks.”
“Is that normal?” “And this morning?”
“Yes. Just about every night, ‘T h e va u lt had been smashed
you’ll find a few players staying open and the bat was gone.”
late to practice. We’ve always trust Goldie m eowed at Erie demand-
ed our boys like that.” ingly. H e’d stopped petting her
“And maybe you shouldn’t.” again.
Ault let out a sad sigh. “No, may “Quiet, you. I’m working here,”
be we shouldn’t. But you’ve got to he told her. He looked up at Ault,
understand something about the suddenly embarrassed. “I don’t al
Brewers. W e’re not just minor ways talk to my cats,” he said. But
league. W e’re minor minor league. he did. T h at’s why it was so em
We can barely afford to pay our barrassing.
players $75 a week. Most of them Ault gave him a noncommittal
don’t even have their own apart “U m m-hmm .” Obviously, he wasn’t
ments; they live with host families a cat person.
in the community. One o f the small “So w ho knew about the bat?”
perks w e can give them is the Erie asked abruptly, his voice a lit
chance to play in a real baseball tle too loud. Goldie hopped off his
stadium. A nd for these boys, that’s lap and trotted away to the kitchen
worth an awful lot, because most o f to look for new developments in her
them know they’ll never get that food dish.
chance again after this summer.” “Lots o f people. Me, my partners,
“H ow about the players who our publicist, a writer over at the
were there last night—Johnson Courier-Press. ’’ Ault stared down at
and Holt? Tell me about them.” his feet, looking miserable. “He was
“Johnson’s got real talent. He’s a going to do a story about us— about
pitcher. Got a mean slider—at least me and the bat. I don’t know what
for our league. I wouldn’t be sur I’m going to tell him now.”
prised to see him get snatched up “W hat about the players?”
by a farm team by August. Holt’s Ault looked back up at Erie, his
got hustle, but I don’t think we’ll be gaze hazy, still focused on headlines
seeing him on any bubblegum he’d never see. “The players?”
cards. This is his fourth summer “Did th ey know about the bat?”
with us. That’s about as many sum “Oh. Yes, I guess so. There was
never any kind o f form al an Ault was staring at him, seem
nouncem ent, b u t w ord gets ingly asking him self the same
around.” question.
“Right.” Erie decided that a private detec
Erie looked over A ult’s shoulder tive would start exactly where one
for a moment, considering what to employed by the city would start.
do. He’d had his private investiga “Has the crime scene been tam
tor’s license for months now, but he pered with?” he asked.
hadn’t really been a RI. H e hadn’t Ault blinked. The phrase “crime
done anything. And he w asn’t sure scene” seemed to bother him. ‘Tam
that he wanted to start. pered with?”
“W hat do you think?” A ult asked “Cleaned up.”
him. “Yes. Well, some o f it. Maybe. I
Erie bought him self another few don’t know.”
seconds o f thought with a protract “I’d like to see it. Please make
ed “Welllll.” Then he m ade up his sure it’s not disturbed any further
mind. Sort o f He’d leave it up to his before I look at it.”
client. “O f course.”
“I would advise you to go to the “I also need more information on
police. I f you w ant the bat back, Johnson and H olt— their full
that’s your best bet,” he said. “But if names, place and date o f birth, that
you’re still intent on avoiding pub sort of thing.”
licity, I’ll look into the m atter for “Are they . . . suspects?” Ault’s
you. I can’t promise that I’ll recover voice trembled as he said the word
the bat, but I can promise you a dis “suspects.” Erie was glad the man
creet, professional investigation.” didn’t have to say words like “po
“How much do you charge?” Ault lice” or “robbery.” H e’d probably
asked. To Erie’s surprise, the man have a stroke.
didn’t hesitate for even a moment. “I just want to be thorough.”
Erie pondered the question. He “I see. Well, I guess I can call you
didn’t have rates. H e’d never had a back with that later.”
client before, so why should he need “Pine. I’d like to talk to them, too.
them? Can you arrange something? For
“One hundred dollars a d ay” he later today, maybe? W hen I come
said, picking the figure out o f thin over to the stadium?”
air. “Plus expenses,” he added, sim “Sure. We’ve got a home game to
ply because that seemed to be what night. Why don’t you come to Lloyd
someone was supposed to say in Field a few hours early? I’ll let you
this situation. know an exact time.”
“That seems reasonable,” Ault “That’ll work.”
said. “O.K., then.” A ult reached into
“Good.” his back pants pocket and pulled
I guess I’m really a private de out a small black book. It was a
tective now, Erie thought to himself checkbook. “I assume you’d like a
So what next? retainer up-front?”
MINOR LEAGUE 85
“Yes,” Erie said. The customer is Blackmail? Som e kinda sex scan
always right. “I usually ask for dal?”
three days’ wages in advance.” “No, nothing like that. Someone
“Three hundred dollars then.” just wants m e to make a few in
Ault pulled a pen from his shirt quiries.”
pocket and w rote out the check, “A few inquiries? W hat does that
the checkbook balanced on one mean? You’re gonna be asking old
knee. Mae the cat, mesmerized by ladies how the weather’s treatin’
the back-and-forth motion of the ’em today?”
pen, hopped o ff her perch and “I can’t talk about it, Bass. It’s
crept towards Ault, ready to confidential.”
pounce. Erie moved to the couch, “C onfidential? So confidential
scooped the cat up, and tossed her you can’t even tell me?”
to the floor. ‘Yes, that confidential.”
Ault tore the check from the “Well, be that way then, James
checkbook and handed it to Erie, Bond.”
who stared at it for a moment as if Bass had a habit o f taking of
it were some mysterious artifact fense at things and then instantly
from a long-vanished civilization. forgiving them — w hich he did
Then the two men shook hands once again.
awkwardly and said their goodbyes “I tell you what I’m gonna do,” he
as Erie walked Ault to the door. said, suddenly sounding amused.
Mae hopped onto the windowsill to “One a’ these days, I’m gonna con
watch Ault climb into his Cadillac vince you to hire me on as your as
and roll backwards down the steep sistant. I’ll follow you around and
driveway to Hart Road. help you out on cases. Then you
“So, what do you think, buddy?” won’t have to worry about being
Erie asked her. “Am I crazy or just confidential, cuz I’ll be w orking
senile?” with you. I’ll be like you r Dr.
The little black cat didn’t reply. Watkins.”
“Dr. who?”
Ault called back an hour later ‘You know— the tubby fella with
with the information. Delmonte Oc the m ustache. British. In those
tavio Johnson was born in Fort movies.”
Wayne, Indiana, on July 3, 1981. “Oh, right.” Erie didn’t feel like
Mark Lee H olt was born in getting into a debate about old
Lafayette, Indiana, on November movie characters. He didn’t want to
14, 1977. Erie should show up at waste his client’s time. “So, Bass,
the ballpark at 4 P.M. what’s Andrew up to today?”
Erie thanked his client, hung up, Bass was a widower, like Erie.
and called his friend Bass. W hile Erie had filled his em pty
“A client? You mean, you’ve got a house with cats, Bass had filled his
case? Well, yeeeeha!” Bass whooped with a teenager. A ndrew was a
when he heard the news. “So what neighborhood kid Bass had infor
are we talkin’ about here? Murder? mally adopted. H e’d lived across
the street from Bass until he’d en joking or not. The kid was a wiz
dured a few too many slaps and with computers.
put-downs from his alcoholic dad. “Whatever’s legal, Andrew,” he
He’d been living in Bass’s basement said. ‘W ill ten dollars an hour be
for about a month. enough?”
“Oh, he’s downstairs doin’ what “I’m getting paid for this? Bonus.
he always does — playin’ with his I was gonna do it just for the fun o f
computer and listenin’ to that head- it. Yeah, ten bucks an hour is great.”
banger music. I’ve been tryin’ to “Good. I’ll be by to pick every
find him a summer job somewhere. thing up at three-thirty.”
I saw a Help Wanted sign over at “No prob. It’ll be ready.”
the Hardee’s on 41, but when I . . . ” Erie heard a muffled voice on the
“I’ve got some work for him.” line, and Andrew said, “Hold on,
“Well, that’s just great. I’ll go and Larry. Bass wants to say something
. . . hold on there. Does this have to you.”
anything to do with your case?” Erie steeled himself. He heard
Erie stifled a sigh. “Yes, it does.” the phone being passed from hand
“So you can’t tell me about it, but to hand.
you can tell Andrew?” “Hey, Larry,” Bass said. “Are you
“I’m not going to tell him any sure you don’t need a bodyguard
more than he needs to know. But he on this case? In case you run into
can help me out.” some rough stuff? You know I’m
“Well, I’ll go tell him you want to pretty handy with my fists.”
talk to him, then. I guess playing Erie laughed. “I tell you what,
m essenger boy’s all this old m an’s Bass. If there’s any ‘rough stuff,’
good for.” you’ll be the first person I call.”
There was a thud as Bass put “Well, okay then,” Bass said,
the phone down on something. Erie sounding almost pleased. “That’s
could hear him stomp away, grum all I needed to hear.”
bling. A minute later, Andrew came
on the line. The greater River City m etro
“Hey, Larry. What’s going on?” area has m ore baseball card shops
Erie filled the kid in, editing as than detective agencies— five in all.
m uch as he could. H e didn’t m en Erie spent the rest o f the afternoon
tion the Brewers and he did n ’t driving around to each o f them,
m ention the bat. But he gave him making small talk with the men
the inform ation on Johnson and behind the counters about this,
H olt and told him he was interest that, the Brewers, Stormy Weath
ed in any recent activity involving ers. There wasn’t much scuttlebutt
rare sports collectibles with a Riv about this year’s Brewers lineup.
er City connection. Just the usual crop o f kids and
“Yeah, sure, I can check on all dreamers. And no, no one had seen
that. Do you want credit reports on any Stormy Weathers collectibles
these guys or just public records?” recently. N egro Leagues stuff was
Erie wasn’t sure i f Andrew was pretty rare. “Not much interest in
MINOR LEAGUE 87
that around here,” one bearded, It was D el Johnson’s high school

overweight man had told Erie. Erie transcript.
knew what he was saying. “I don’t w ant to know how you
Andrew had a more productive got this.”
afternoon sitting in Bass’s base “That’s okay. I wouldn’t tell you if
ment. W hen Erie showed up, the you did.”
teenager had a small pile o f print The kid flashed him a wise-ass
outs for him. smile. Erie went back to flipping
“This is everything I could find through the sheets o f paper. It was
about those baseball guys,” he re mostly m ore Journal Gazette arti
ported, handing the papers over to cles that mentioned Johnson. R ed
Erie on the front step o f Bass’s skinsE ye R egional Pennant, Red
house. “I cruised around eBay and skin P itching O verpowers Indy
some o f the sports auction sites, but C hamps, stu ff like that.
I didn’t find any Stormy Weathers “You’re getting close to the M ark
stuff posted.” Lee H olt section now,” A n drew
Erie tried to look confused. “Base said.
ball guys? Stormy Weathers? Who After a few more flips, Erie saw
said anything about baseball guys w h at he meant. The stories
or Stormy Weathers?” changed. H e wasn’t looking at
“The kid ain’t dumb, Larry!” Bass sports page features anymore. Now
shouted from somewhere on the the articles were no more than for
other side o f the screen door. ty or fifty words long. They had
“I know that!” Erie called back. headlines like A rea Y outh
“Now stop eavesdropping!” C harged W ith T he i t and
Bass didn’t answer, but Erie L afayette M an A rrested for
could hear him grumbling some B reaking and E ntering. The name
thing to himself. M ark Lee H olt popped up in all o f
Erie started flipping through the them. W h en Erie came across a
pile o f papers. The first few were page filled with small type, it was
printouts from a newspaper’s web n’t Holt’s school transcript. It was
site. his arrest record.
“High School Hero Headed to Big “Johnson looks like ju st anoth
Leagues?” was the headline on one er jo c k to me. B ut this oth er
story. It was a recent article from dude— h e’s m y kind o f guy,” A n
the Fort Wayne Journal Gazette. It drew said.
was about Dei Johnson. Erie looked up at the grinning
Erie kept flipping and came kid. He’d h ad his own run-ins with
across a sheet of paper overflow the law.
ing with tiny print. He had to “I thought Bass and I were re
squint to make out what was on forming you,” Erie said to him.
the page. He looked back up at An Andrew nodded. “Oh, sure, you
drew. are. C rim e does not pay. I’ve
“Is this what I think it is?” learned that.” He held out his hand.
Andrew nodded, obviously proud. “N ow I think we agreed to ten dol
lars an hour, so you owe m e thirty clack, bathing everything in a sick

bucks.” ly yellow fluorescent glow. Foot
steps echoed o ff the walls, and a
H a lf an hour later, E rie pulled voice said, “Can I help you?”
into th e parkin g lot in front o f “It’s me, Dr. Ault. Larry Erie.”
Lloyd Field. The lot was alm ost de “Oh. I didn’t recognize you in the
serted. It wasn’t the kind o f place dark,” Ault said as he moved closer.
where you could watch players pull “You changed your clothes.” There
up in their SUVs and Lamborghi- was something about the way he
nis. You were m ore lik ely to see said it that made it seem that he
them gettin g o ff buses or being didn’t like the idea much.
dropped off by middle-aged women Erie had put on a suit and tie be
in m inivans and station wagons. fore coming over to the stadium.
W eeds sprouted from cracks in the “I’m working now, Dr. Ault,” he ex
pavement. plained. ‘Y ou caught me in my put-
Erie spotted Ault’s silver Caddy tering-around-the-house clothes.”
in a reserved space. It was the fan Ault attempted a polite smile. He
ciest car in sight. didn’t quite pull it off.
Erie walked over to the main en “So,” Erie said, turning to “the
trance, a bank o f turnstiles under a vault.” “The scene o f the crime.”
brick archway. A chain-link fence Ault nodded stiffly. Y es.”
on rollers was pushed to one side of Erie crouched down again and
the archway, unused. It w asn’t ex looked inside the case. There were
actly Fort Knox. No one was around various mementos inside— a foot
to officially let him in, so Erie just ball helmet, a catcher’s mitt, a bas
slid over one o f the turnstiles. ketball— each with a little bronze
The only light inside streamed plaque explaining the item’s sig
in through the entrance and down nificance. The space next to one
the ram ps that led up to the seats. plaque was empty. “Bat used by
But there was ju st enough for Erie River City baseball great James
to see by. ‘Stormy’ Weathers, Negro Leagues
The Wall o f Fame w as less than World Series, 1946,” the plaque
twenty yards away. It looked as un said. Shards o f glass were spread
rem arkable as ever in the half evenly over the faux velvet lining
dark, except for the ja gged hole in all around it.
the glass case beneath the pictures. “The inside o f the case hasn’t
Erie moved towards it, hoping to been touched?”
hear the sound o f glass crunching “No. But we’re going to have to
under his feet. No such luck. The board it up before the game tonight.
concrete floor around the Wall o f And I’m taking the plaque out, o f
Fame had been swept clean. Erie course.”
bent down and peered inside the Erie was disappointed with him
case. Som eth in g shim m ered in self. It hadn’t occurred to him to
side. bring a camera. There were no ev
T h e lights came on with a loud idence techs to snap shots o f the
MINOR LEAGUE 89
shattered case for the files. Erie re was still baseball. H e’d never been
solved to buy a Polaroid camera, much o f an athlete, but he could
then instantly reconsidered. He understand why young men would
didn’t know i f he’d ever have an want to put o ff a real job, a real life,
other case, so why bother? for ju st one m ore sum m er o f this.
“H ow does the display case A ult pointed out a w iry black
open?” he asked. player pitching in a bullpen near
Ault stepped over and pointed to right field. “T here’s Johnson,” he
a small, circular lock mechanism said. He pointed to another player
built into the wood paneling on the who was leaning against the brick
left-hand com er o f the case. “I’m wall near one o f the dugouts, wait
the only one with a key. The Wall o f ing for his turn in front o f a pitch
Fame is my responsibility,” he said. ing machine that was hurling balls
Erie examined the lock for a mo over hom e plate. “T h at’s Holt.
ment, then pulled his keys out o f Which one do you want to talk to
his pocket. Attached to his keychain first?”
was a small Swiss arm y knife. He With a loud crack, the player at
flipped out the smallest blade— lit the plate sent a long fly ball deep
tle more than a sliver o f metal— into left field. It didn’t quite make
and gingerly worked it into the it to the warning track before drop
lock. ping into the left fielder’s glove, but
‘W h a t are you doing?” the batter got a few cheers from
“J u s t. . . ” his teammates ju st the same.
Click. The broken glass panel Erie cou ldn ’t help but wonder
swung out on a hinge. how he’d do in front o f the pitching
“. . . experimenting.” machine. H e’d played baseball in
Erie pocketed his knife and high school and softball in a church
pushed the glass panel back into league until his bad back retired
place. him from team sports altogether.
“So are Johnson and Holt here But there w as a part o f his soul
yet? I’d like to talk to them,” he said that was still itching to grab a bat
as he stood up. and try to send one over the fence.
“They’re out on the field practic W hat red-blooded American male
ing with the rest o f the team. This wouldn’t get that feeling watching
way.” the pitching m achine in action?
Ault led him up the nearest ramp The pitching machine. It was lit
into the sunshine. D own below tle more than a spinning rubber
them, about twenty blue-and-gray wheel with a box on top to hold the
uniformed men were stretching, balls. It didn’t look very heavy at
sprinting, taking batting practice, all. One m an could easily move it
throwing balls around. The sights into position and load it.
and sounds o f it brought a smile to “You know. Dr. Ault, 1 think I’ve
Erie's face. Maybe it was only minor got a new angle on this case," Erie
league baseball in a run-down old said. He kept his eyes on the play
stadium in southern Indiana, but it ers. Lee Holt was stepping into the
batter’s box, “Johnson doesn’t make ‘Y ou would expect to see some

any sense as a suspect. H e’s got a kind o f pattern to the glass— an
future— or at least a chance for a fu outline around the spot where the
ture. Would he risk throw ing that bat was mounted. But there’s noth
away by stealing som ething out o f ing like that. Which means maybe
his own home field?” the bat wasn’t in the case when the
“So you think it’s Holt?” glass was broken. Maybe it was
Holt fouled off the first pitch and never there at all.”
sent the second bouncing down the Erie waited again for a prompt
third-base line. from Ault. A “What are you say
“Well, like you say, h e’s not bub ing?” or perhaps a Y o u ’re crazy.”
blegum card material. A n d he’s no What he got, instead, was a quiet,
stranger to petty larceny. But that’s “I didn’t steal it.”
part o f the problem.” “I’m not saying you did.”
“W hat do you mean?” “I broke it,” Ault continued.
H olt finally got a solid hit, a line Erie nodded out at the pitcher’s
drive that shot through the infield mound.
between second and first. ‘W ith that. After Holt and John
“I mean, he knows h ow to pick a son left for the night.”
lock. I f I could open that case in ten ‘Yes. I just wanted to feel what it
seconds, he could do it in three. So would be like to get one hit with
why pull a smash-and-grab?” Stormy Weathers’ bat in my hand.
“Y ou think it’s so m e o n e else Just one hit.”
th en ? Som eone who b rok e in at “And that’s all it took.”
n ig h t? It can be d o n e . W e’ve ‘Yes, damn it. I hit one measly lit
know n that for a long tim e. Every tle blooper, barely out o f the infield,
other weekend we’ve g ot kids run and it split right in two.”
n in g loose in here tryin g to find Erie finally turned to face his
w here we keep the beer. A nd now client. A bitter, sad grimace twist
th ey’v e . . . ” ed Ault’s long, lean face. H e still
“B u t . . . ” couldn’t believe the cosmic injus
A ult was chattering so loud and tice that had been done to him. Just
so fast he didn’t even h ear Erie the one hit, that’s all he’d wanted. Just
first time. one moment o f glory.
“But,” Erie said again. This time Erie didn’t judge the man. He
A ult stopped. ju st felt horribly embarrassed.
“There’s som ething else,” Erie “Where is it now?”
w ent on. “The shattered glass in “Hidden in my garage. I couldn’t
the trophy case is spread fairly admit what happened to my part
evenly around the plaque for the ners or Stormy’s daughter. It’s . . . I
bat. That suggests som ething very . . . I feel so humiliated.”
strange,” Erie started to say something,
Erie waited for A ult’s “And what then stopped himself. H e started
would that be?” but it didn’t come. again, then stopped.
So he pressed on anyway. “This i s ... awkward, Dr. Ault,” he
MINOR LEAGUE 91
finally got out. “I’ve never been in a piest nickel-and-dim e detective

situation like this before. You’re my agency in town.
client. I’m working for you. I can’t How about one that w on’t even
tell you what to do here. But I guess pony up the money for a real ad?
I can give you a little advice. Admit One run by an old man and his cats
what happened now, before this out o f a house in the suburbs? Per
goes any further. I think you know fect.
that’s the right thing to do.” The only job Erie was good for
Ault nodded quickly, then was one he was supposed to botch.
slapped a hand up over his eyes Except h e’d botched botching it.
and turned away. He was crying. That was some consolation.
Erie left without asking his final Driving home, Erie tried to push
question: “Why did you hire me?” these thoughts out o f his head by
He knew the answer. Ault was turning on the radio.
trying to hide his mistake. He had “. . . count is three and one. Gon
to play out the theft scenario all zalez winds up annnnnd blows one
the way. But he couldn’t go to the right by LaRue.
police. That would be too danger “That w as a beautiful pitch.
ous. So he’d convinced his partners Right across the knees. We should
to hire a private investigator— to be watching that one drop into the
avoid bad publicity, o f course. Ohio.
And who do you turn to if you’ve “Three and two is the count now.”
got a mystery you don’t really want It w as a Reds gam e. Th e big
solved? Just flip open the yellow leagues.
pages and find the cheapest, slop Erie turned the radio off.
A t th e E n d o f th e P a th
Eve Fisher
hen I heard you were com ing I was in two minds about talk
W ing to you. You’ve got to understand, I’ve had people out here
asking questions for what, sixty years now? You can’t kill
you r dad when you’re only twelve years old and not have some peop
com e by from time to time asking why. And here I am in prison, well, I’m
a sitting duck. You can always find m e to home, you betcha.
A nd the questions, they’re all pretty much the same: W hy’d you do it?
W as your pa a violent m an? Did the loneliness get to you, out there on
the prairie? You ever kill small animals? How about your ma, what was
she like? Yeah, I’ve been asked them all, and I’ve answered them every
way you can think of. But I’m not answering any more questions, I can
tell you that right now. W hat I’m going to do is tell you as best I can what
happened and, well, you can do with it what you will. I don’t care.
N ow you know what the record says. My parents were both killed at
their claim shanty. M y father was found sprawled across the table, shot
to death with a double-barreled shotgun right in the chest. My moth
er— w ell, she was lying out in the yard. Only footsteps around were
theirs, and mine. They tracked me down and found me two miles away
at D ark Hollow, curled up and sleeping at the edge o f the pine trees.
First thing I said when they woke m e up was, “I shot him.”
The trial didn’t take long. Only reason they didn’t hang m e was ’cause
I was twelve. Instead, they gave me life without parole, and here I am.
A nd that was fine with me, believe it or not. But then, I never figured life
would last so long.
Don’t worry, I ain’t gonna start blubbering about how hard it’s been.
Th e way I see it, most things are hard, but all you got to do is just last
through it, because most things end. I’ve only known a couple o f things
that didn’t, and none o f them are here. They’re outside.
You know, that’s the only thing th at’s ever really bothered me: I’ve
n ever been outside since. I mean outside. W ith no w alls or fences or
buildings, nothing but you and the land and the sky. That’s what I miss.
I loved it out there. W e had a half-section in the m iddle o f miles o f
grassy hills. Lord, 1 loved those hills. Tall grass as high as my belly. In
high sum m er it would bleach out, and the wind would m ove the grass
around until it looked like the earth was this huge tawny animal and
God was stroking its fur with His fingers.
I’d go running out in the morning and play all day long. Didn’t have
any chores back then, other than to fetch water and pick up chips for the
92
AT THE END OF THE PATH 93
fire. There were still buffalo chips on the hills. B uffalo dead and gone for
God knows how long, and there were still chips, th at’s how many buffa
lo there had been. I tried to think o f w hat they m u st have been like, be
fore they killed them all, but I couldn’t do it. I never did have much o f an
imagination.
But what I liked best was the silence. N o such thing nowadays. Not
like that. T h e wind blew, the grass w h isp ered , the birds called, I
breathed, my heart beat, but hanging thick, running deep, and welling
up was a silence that none of it could touch. It w as what held the land
and sky together.
I rem em ber it clear, real clear. You get up to m y age, you don’t keep
track o f m uch o f anything else but you r childhood. That com es back
clear as a bell. And I haven’t had all that much else to remember. I was
b om in the claim shanty my father built the first year he got there. My
earliest recollection is him standing in the doorway, looking out. The
door faced east and the sun was rising strong, but the place was so small
and m y father was so big, he blocked out the light and it had to shine
around him. I can still see him like it was yesterday, dark as pitch, out
lined with beams o f light.
He was a dark man. Wasn’t easy to know. Wasn’t easy to love. I loved
him , but he was my father, and children’ll love anything that raises
them. You don’t think that’s true, talk to some o f the boys around here.
You’d be surprised what they love. It’s the liking th at’s hard to earn. My
m other was easier, but she had her dark sides, too. Like the one that
would stare out at the hills every morning, waiting, and when you called
her nam e she wouldn’t answer back. A nd w hen you touched her, she
jum ped. Then at night she’d tell ghost stories and scare the crap out o f
you. She’d laugh when you flinched, and tell you more.
They fought all the time. Words, fists, pots, knives, anything. Worse
was when they quit fighting and there was dead silence. That was the
worst o f all. That silence I was talking about, out on the hills, that was
a living thing. Things grew out o f it. But in our house, when the talk and
shouts and crashes stopped, it was like another piece o f them had died,
and it wasn’t coming back again. I used to w onder how many silences it
would take before they both just vanished.
Me, I’d take off, every chance I got. O ut o f the house. Up on the hills.
Day was no problem, but at night they’d try to stop me. I’d say I had to
visit the outhouse. Then I’d take off, go far enough away so that the light
in the window was ju st a dot in the dark. There w as one place I’d always
go, this outcrop o f rock. From there, you could see th e house on the one
side, with that warm dot o f light, and on the oth er the hills stretching
out forever. Sooner or later, Dad would com e ou t th e door and call out,
“Johnny! G et back in here right now! It’s bedtim e!” That m eant they
were done for the night, and I’d have to go back. I f I didn’t, he’d track me
down, I’ve always been real easy to track down.
94 EVE FISHER
One night, m y m other came out.

“Johnny!” she called. A nd I shivered worse than in a blizzard wind.
“Johnny!” she called again. She couldn’t see me, but I could see her. The
light from the fire was blazing behind her. “Johnny!” She staggered out
into the yard, and her head was all wrong. “Johnny!”
The next thing I knew I was running like wild Indians were behind
me, straight over the hills, m y feet hammering into the ground, the tall
grass cutting at my legs.
“Johnny!”
I couldn’t stop running. I wanted to throw up, but I couldn’t stop run
ning. I w anted to do som eth in g else, cry maybe, I don’t know, but I
couldn’t stop running. A nd then the earth dropped out from under me,
and I was skidding on the grass, and over stones, and down a steep hill,
and all around me were trees, and in I went.
I crouched like a dog in those pine needles, sore and gasping. It was
quiet and dark and I could hear my heart pounding. Way up the wind
was blowing, but down where I was it was still. And there was the si
lence back. Like a warm, soft blanket. After a long while I curled up un
der it and slept.
It was the voices that woke me up.
“He would drown in sleep if he but could.” A woman’s voice, strange
and slow. “H ow did he com e here?”
And a voice, more like a rumble o f thunder than a m an’s: “He ran.
From what he could not bear.”
And behind my eyelids, I saw my mother, a wrong shadow outlined in
burning light, staggering in the yard. I shuddered as the woman said:
“Is she . . . all right?”
“I do not know. Do you want me to find out?”
“Yes.”
I opened my eyes. It was ju s t at dawn, the light slanting through the
long row o f tree trunks. Outlined with long, bright, dusty beams o f light
was a huge dark figure that would’ve made even my father look bright.
I clamped m y eyes tigh t shut. When I opened them again, there she
was.
A fter a stretch o f silence, she asked, “Are you all righ t?” She was
young, with long black hair that hung to her knees and a face like carved
pine. “Are you all right?” she asked again. I nodded. H er eyes, bird dark,
bird clear, bird bright, looked me up one side and down the other. She
nodded, turned around, and started walking away. Then she stopped
and called to me over her shoulder, “Come.” I ju st stared at her. “You
m ust be hungry. Come.”
I got up and ran after her.
She fed m e berries and parched com , groundnuts and honey in the
comb. I was starving, and gobbled it down. The same gourd that was m y
plate she rinsed out in the small dark pond and filled with water for my
thirst. The whole time she hadn’t said a word, and I was too busy eating
to say anything m yself but, “Thank you, ma’am .”
N ow I was used to eating quiet, because children should be seen and
not heard, and I’ve spoke about the silence in m y house already. B ut this
was a third kind o f quiet. It was in her. Her tongue was still, h er hands
were still, her body was still, and her face was still. Only her eyes were
alive, and I started to think that any minute she m ight take o ff her face,
like a mask, and I wasn’t any too sure what w ould be under it. I’m still
not sure. All I can say is it spooked me, spooked m e bad. Once I finished
my gourdful, I reckoned I’d better sprout som e talk.
“M y name’s Johnny Olson,” I said. “What’s yours?” She didn’t say any
thing. “You’re an Indian, aren’t you?” She still didn’t say anything, so I
hurried on. “My folks are settlers. We’ve got a claim . . . ” I realized I did
n’t exactly know where the claim was and skipped it. “W e com e from out
East. M y dad and my m om —” I stopped again, a cold sweat breaking all
over me. I saw Mom again, staggering in the yard, with her head . . .
She cupped her hands around m y head. “Hush,” she said. “All is safe.
Rest.” And I was warm and safe and sleepy. I lay down on the soft moss
by the pond and looked up at her sitting beside m e, and at the long
stretch o f tall firs rowed behind her.
“Those trees sure are nice,” I said.
“I planted them,” she began, and everything she said I saw as clear as
I see you. I saw her brown hands cupped around them when they were
like ferns, just broken from the cone. “It was a grow ing spring, that year,”
she said, and I saw plum and chokecherry, w aterleaf and crowfoot, prim
rose and meadow rose breathing out light and color. “They were in a dark
place. Too dark.” I watched her move the seedlings, one by one, until she
had two long rows o f small green crosses. I blinked, and those dots o f
green became the great firs above our heads; I blinked again, and they
were seedlings. “Dark that Rides laughed that I made a path o f them.” I
watched the seedlings grow tall and strong and straight. The path grew
between them, bedded deep in soft brown needles. I saw her walk the
path, the red owl fly it, the deer stand in it, and through it ran streams
o f sunlight flowing out onto grass so green I could almost smell the sweet
o f it. It would be warm in summer, safe in winter, sheltered always. “And
at the end o f it, Dark that Rides.” Her voice was very happy, but I shud
dered. That dark figure I had seen so briefly, that living nightmare, was
for her a love and protection as sweet as honey, as absolute as death. She
passed her hand over m y hair. “Sleep,” she said, and stood up.
“You’re not going away, are you?”
Her dark eyes blinked once, slowly. “There is n o place here where I am
not.” I closed my eyes.
Here’s where I can’t be certain if it’s what I heard or w hat I dreamed,
but either way, it’s true. That dark thing cam e back, and she called to
him.
96 EVE FISHER
“D ark that Rides!”

“C row W oman. Here.” From behind her, he put something into h er
hands; w hen they opened, ou t came yet another voice, singing:
“Sing heigh-ho, the derry-oh,

Sing heigh-ho, and the w ind and the rain.
Sing heigh-ho, the wind it does blow,
Sing heigh-ho, the wind and the rain.
Sing heigh-ho, the rain is so cold,
Sing heigh-ho, the wind and the rain.
Sing heigh-ho— ”
C row Woman closed her hands, and the voice stopped. “Whose song is
it?” she asked.
“N ot mine.”
“The wom an’s?”
“I am not sure. It was there waiting to be heard, and so I brought it.
But I am not sure it came from her.”
In m y head I saw a fire burning. The flames were running a river o f
w arm th up the air, the sparks dancing on the dark night. The sm oky
smell setting off the crisp air. “She was never the same,” a voice was say
ing. A n old woman’s voice. “They found her sitting there, rocking like a
child, singing the same thing over and over a gain .. .’’ And the moccasins
stam ping dust.
“H as she lost her m ind?” Crow W oman asked.
Dark that Rides spoke: “I am not sure of w hat her mind was like be
fore.” A dread was ga th erin g in m e like a storm, and I could feel m y
w hole body shaking. “T h e boy m ust go back.”
“I f he goes back . . . ” C row Woman whispered.
“H e is not a plant to be m oved, even at you r will,” Dark that Rides
whispered. “He cannot be made into a path. H e must follow the path al
ready made.”
“I f h e goes b a c k . . . ” she said again. And I saw it, in the distance, leap
ing up the way a fire leaps into the dark.
“You saved m e!” she cried.
“H e could save her.”
T h e wom an, staggerin g in the firelight. The darkness behind. M y
mother. Above us the w ind ripped the leaves loose from the trees and
sent them tom into the night.
W h en I woke up, I w a s at the edge o f the trees. Crow Woman was

standing by me. The w ind sent up her hair like a black cape around her,
and behind that Dark th at Rides rode darker still.
“You must go. Now.” She was looking out, across the rolling hills, and
I knew she was looking toward the cabin. “They need you.”
And then I was blubbering like a baby, with fear and anger and hurt
and rage in m e com ing out in a long pour that was half beg, h a lf threat,
and all crazy. She listened—I think— and then she said, in the sam e
voice, “You must go.” Suddenly she bent down, and that carved face was
inches from mine. “You have a choice, but not to stay.” Those eyes, blaz
ing through that wooden face. I shrank away from them, into the grass.
Dark that Rides was safe, compared to her eyes. “Remember that. You
have a choice.” The eyes died down. “A n d this will be the dream o f a
frightened boy, tom like a dog by the night.” She made a slight gesture.
“You cannot stay asleep forever. Wake up.”
And I did. I don’t know how, I don’t know w hen, all I know is I was
walking across the fields, yawning and hungry and scared, but w ide
awake and walking home.
M y mother was lying in the yard. M y father was in the kitchen. There
was a lot o f blood, m ost o f it dry. They were both still breathing. O ur
nearest neighbor was a good five miles away, but I could get there and
back with some help and they’d be fine, or at least get over it. All I had
to do was hurry.
I was thirsty.
I’d just dipped some water w hen I heard the sound. I turned around,
and my father was up, moving towards me. I never want to see such a
sight again. I dropped the dipper and the water spilled everywhere as I
picked up the gun.
I never want to hear such a scream again.
She was right, you know. I had a choice. I could have run, but I didn’t.
I stopped for water. W hen he rose up, I had another choice. I could have
run again, but I didn’t. I shot him. It took him awhile to die, and I stood
there and watched. B y then m y m other was dead, too.
Where do you go w hen you dream ? I heard him ask her that once: the
dark one, I mean, not m y father. D ark that Rides, he asked Crow W om
an. Took me a long tim e to leam who they were, but I managed. Dark
that Rides, who saved Crow Woman’s life one autum n day, one, two hun
dred years ago or more. And ever since she’s been with him in Dark Hol
low. Yep. People laugh at me for believing old Indian tales. But she’s still
there. I know it. I’ve seen her. I’ve talked to her. She’s there. And so is he.
Where do you go when you dream ? I don’t know where she goes, but
I go over the plains and the prairie and straight to Dark Hollow. For six
ty years I’ve stood outside in m y dream s and looked in through those
tall pines. That day, when I finally did run— and I ran, all right, ran
straight back to her— she wouldn’t let me in. The trees— her trees—
sewed themselves together and kept me out, but I could see her, flicker
ing like a light down that path she’d made, and Dark that Rides billow
ing around her like a shawl in the wind.
I couldn’t get in then, but o f late I have. I’ve been able to walk inside,
98 EVE FISHER
dow n the row o f trees. O ne o f these nights I’m going to make it all the
way to the pond, and w h en I do I’m going to curl up in the moss and go
to sleep. A nd w hen I w ake up, I’ll be there. Truly there. And she’ll be
there, with that face like carved pine and those blazing eyes, Dark that
Rides behind her. I’m hoping that this tim e she’ll let me stay. I’ll know if
she takes off the mask.
N ote to Our Readers: I f y o u h a ve d ifficu lty fin d in g Alfred Hitchcock’s

Mystery Magazine a t y o u r p r e fe r r e d retailer, w e w a n t to help. F irst, let the
s to r e m a n a g e r k n o w th a t y o u w a n t the sto r e to c a n y th is m a g a zin e. Then
s e n d us a le tte r o r p o s tc a r d m e n tio n in g A H M M a n d g iv in g us th e f u ll n a m e
a n d a d d r e s s o f the store. W rite to us at: D ell M a gazines, D ept. MS, 6’ P row itt
S t,, N o r w a lk , C T 0 6 8 5 5 -1 2 2 0 .
THE
M YSTERIO U S PH O TO GRAPH
Time Bandits? We will give a prize o f $25 to the person who invents the
best mystery story (in 250 words or less, and be sure to include a crime)
based on the above photograph. The story will be printed in a future is
sue. Reply to AHMM, Dell Magazines, 475 Park Avenue South, New
York, New York 10016. Please label your entry “July/August Contest,”
and be sure your name and address are written on the story you sub
m it. I f p ossible, please also inclu de you r S ocia l S ecurity number.
The w inning entry for the February M ysterious Photograph contest

will be found on page 239.
99
T radesm an ’s Exit
John H. Dirckx
fly settled on Glen Lasz- castic retort.) “It means Kyle’s dis
A lo’s chili and began to ex

plore it with the air o f a
ability check is buying us more gro
ceries than what the shop is.”
connoisseur. Laszlo took a swipe“Right
the fly with a paper napkin but
at now, maybe. But business
is bound to get better. I’ve got some
missed and splashed chili over the new leads, and things are going to
plastic tablecloth. “You left the pick up.”
screen door open again, Kyle,” he “That’s what you said when you
grumbled, repeating a well-worn bought all those eight-track players
formula. and tapes,” said M axene. “And
“It sticks,” drawled his brother-in- when you got online and started
law into his beer. “Don’t make much cruising here and hacking there.
difference if it’s open or shut, with How about hacking a little steak in
the screen half busted out o f it.” to the freezer?”
M axene Laszlo, w ho had her Maxene Laszlo and her brother
brother’s rusty h air and bulky then proceeded to carry on an ani
frame, shifted in her chair and fixed mated conversation as if Laszlo
her husband with a resentful scowl. w eren’t sitting right across the
“We wouldn’t need a screen door if kitchen table from them. The gist o f
you’d get the air conditioner fixed.” the script had been established
“Don’t start that again, Maxene. months, even years, before. The
You saw the estimate. Business is theme was Laszlo’s failure to get
n’t that good right now.” rich despite his am bitious ideas
“When was your business ever and vaunted skill as a computer
good?” asked Kyle Givens. whiz, and the bottom line was that
“A t least I earn what I spend,” re he would be worth more to Maxene
torted Laszlo. dead than alive— provided his life
“That’s easy for you to say. As far insurance premiums were paid up.
as I’m concerned, I ju st live for the Instead o f reassuring them on
day when I see the last o f you.” that point, Laszlo left his meal un
“Hey, Kyle, you can get out o f my finished and stamped out o f the
place any time you like.” house, slamming the screen door
“I f he goes,” said Maxene, “I go.” behind him. Above them the ceiling
Her husband looked up in genu fan droned on, and from time to
ine bewilderment mixed with hurt. time another fly appeared on the
“W hat’s that supposed to m ean?” scene.
“It means I like to eat once in a
while.” (Laszlo sm othered a sar A t seven fifty the next morning,
100
t r a d e s m a n ’ s e x it 101
Patrolman Fritz Dollinger re rent in the dead m an’s shirt, be
sponded to a call from the dis tween ribs and belt buckle. He went
patcher to check on an alleged dead straight to the trunk o f his cruiser
body in an alley in the Smallwood and scrubbed with chlorine bleach
district. before calling headquarters. Then
When he arrived in the alley, a he put on a pair o f rubber gloves
crowd had already assembled. The and went back to search for the
morning was damp and cool for Ju weapon.
ly, but the joggers and idlers were
abroad. Dollinger parked in the When Detective Sergeant Cyrus
middle o f the alley to block any Auburn arrived at headquarters
through traffic and hauled his mas that morning, his immediate supe
sive form out o f the cruiser. rior, Lieutenant Savage, met him in
A blonde with a nondescript dog the corridor outside his office.
on a leash came forward. “I’m the “Dellinger’s got a citizen down, in
one that called,” she said. “It’s over an alley out in Smallwood,” said
there. My dog found it.” Savage. “Knifed in the gut som e
The body— for there certainly time last night. No wallet, no w eap
was one— lay in and partly under a on. Kestrel’s on hLs way there. Want
mound o f rubbish between two to check it out?”
large steel trash receptacles enam “Any I.D. at all?”
eled green. Dollinger cleared plas “They got a name and address
tic wrapping materials and kitchen off his glasses case. I f it is his. They
garbage away from the face. A haven’t checked on next o f kin yet.
white male in his forties, casually You’d better get on that first.”
dressed, the skin cold and lead-col Before leaving headquarters, A u
ored, the limbs growing stiff. burn consulted the city map on the
“Anybody know him?” Tire crowd wall in the dispatchers’ room. It
was only too pleased to move in took a quarter o f an hour for him to
closer for an inspection o f the dead get to the middle-class residential
man, but nobody recognized him. district called Smallwood.
Dollinger fished in the pockets of By the time he reached the scene,
the soiled gray flannel slacks for a the alley had been cordoned o ff at
wallet but found only a ring of keys both ends o f the block with yellow
and an em pty glasses case. The plastic tape. He parked on a side
case, however, bore an identifica street behind the police evidence
tion tag. “Glen Laszlo,” he an van. The group o f onlookers had
nounced. “Four forty-five Win- swelled considerably, and a peanut
throp.” The alley they were in ran gallery o f teenage boys had gath
parallel to the nine hundred block ered on the roof o f a garage across
o f Winthrop. “Mean anything to the alley.
anybody?” The area around the body was a
It didn’t. Then Dollinger noticed scene o f concerted activity. D ol
the blood on his fingers, and saw linger was rooting in widening cir
where it had come from— a gaping cles among weeds and rubbish, still
102 JOHN H. DIRCKX
searching for the weapon. The coro a worn-out doormat, pretty sparse
ner’s investigator, Nick Stamaty, on top. “W here are his glasses?”
looking dapper and self-possessed “N o glasses here within a radius
in gold-rimmed glasses and a light o f about ten yards,” said Stamaty.
blue lounge suit, was going over “Probably ju st wore them for read
the body on the ground, while Ser ing. He’s about that age. He would
geant Kestrel, the evidence techni n’t need them for a walk down the
cian from headquarters, was m e alley.”
thodically rem oving things from “Then w h /d he have the empty
one o f the trash containers and lay case in his pocket? And you’d think
ing them in precisely even rows on he would have had a wallet on him,
the ground. too. Looks like robbery, doesn’t it?”
All three were wearing rubber “Yes and no.” Stamaty had been
gloves. a beat cop for years in another city
Auburn touched base with Dol- before joining the coroner’s office.
linger first. The lady with the dog, “There’s not much blood here. He
w ho lived at the end o f the block, may have been killed somewhere
had gone hom e to get ready for else and dumped here during the
work. Auburn read over the state night. As stiff as he is, I’d bet he died
m ent Dollinger had obtained from before it got dark last night. This
her. seems like a pretty public spot for
Stam aty and Kestrel had al a knifing.”
ready taken photographs o f the “Anybody been in touch with the
body and the scene. Now they were family yet?” asked Auburn, know
w orking around each other with ing the answer perfectly well.
the elaborate politeness o f two m ar “I’ll come with you,” volunteered
tial arts opponents ju st waiting for Stamaty, w ho dealt with grieving
the signal to tear each other apart. survivors day in and day out.
On top o f Stamaty’s field kit lay Auburn’s knock at the Laszlo res
a plastic bag containing a wet red idence was answered by a stout
pulpy mass. “What’s this?” said A u redhead.
burn. “Is Mr. Laszlo in?”
“Three smashed cherries, with “He’s not home,” she said. A man,
pits, from his left-hand pants pock bigger and redder than she was,
et.” hovered behind her in the entry
“Anything else on him?” hall. He was chewing gum with rel
“Just a ring o f keys, some small ish and abandon, and it looked as if
change, and this.” He showed A u the effort was consuming about a
burn the empty brown plastic spec third of his available brain power.
tacle case with the name and ad “Glen didn’t com e home last
dress inside the flap. night,” the man told Auburn. ‘T ry
Auburn squatted to examine the his shop, six blocks north on Rich
dead man’s face. The features were mond. Glen’s Electronic Salvage.”
even, somewhat angular, not very “Are you Mrs. Laszlo?” Auburn
imposing. The hair was the color o f asked the woman.
t r a d e s m a n ’s e x i t 103
“Yes, I’m Maxene The crow d certainly h ad n ’t

“W e may have some bad news thinned, though the onlookers were
for you. Could we come in?” keeping at a respectful distance.
“W hat kind o f bad news?” she Dollinger and Kestrel suspended
asked, with a catch in her throat. operations as Auburn and Stamaty
She stepped aside and led Auburn approached with Kyle. The body
and Stamaty into the living room. was now covered with a blue plas
“A man was found in the alley tic sheet. Stamaty, officially in
about four blocks north o f here this charge o f the remains, uncovered
morning. He had these in his pock the face.
et.” Kyle took one look and turned
“Those are Glen’s keys,” said the away, signaling with a nod his
man, “and that’s his glasses case. recognition o f Laszlo to the woman
W here is he?” waiting in the car. She covered her
“H e’s still at the scene. Are you a face and sank back in her seat.
family member, sir?” “N o doubt in your mind?” asked
“I’m Maxene’s brother.” Stamaty. “This is definitely Mr.
“Would it be possible for one o f Glen Laszlo?”
you to come with us and see if you ‘Yes, it’s Glen all right.”
can identify him?” Auburn took out a three-by-five-
‘Y ou mean he’s— he’s— ” inch file card and a pen. ‘Y o u r
‘Yes, ma’am, he’s dead. I’m sorry.” name, sir?”
He was glad Stamaty was along, “Kyle Givens.” Auburn printed
even though he was doing all the the nam e on the card. In his head
talking himself. he filed the round, freckled, un
‘W ell, what happened to him?” healthy face, the cracked combat
She wailed like a siren, but Auburn boots, and the fingernails gnawed
saw no tears. down to the quick.
‘W e think he was attacked and “And your address?”
robbed. Would he have had a lot o f “Right where you found me. I live
money on him, or anything valu with m y sister.”
able?” “W here do you work, Mr. G iv
“N ot Glen,” said the man. “He ens?”
can’t even pay the rent. I’ll come “I’m total and permanent.”
with you.” ‘Y ou’re which, sir?”
“W e’re both coming. Lock the “Service Connected Disability.”
kitchen door, Kyle.” The way he said it, Auburn could
Auburn had driven to the Lasz- hear the capital letters. “I picked up
lo house to spare the survivors the this parasite in the G ulf War.”
ordeal o f walking the quarter mile. They had moved back toward the
Stamaty rode in front. When they car. Mrs. Laszlo was sobbing vio
got to the scene, Mrs. Laszlo broke lently, h er large, shapeless body
down. ‘You go, Kyle, and see if it’s sloshing around in her large, shape
him. I can’t get out in front o f all less sundress like the water in a
those people.” waterbed.
104 JOHN H. DIRCKX
“I’m sorry,” A uburn told her “Did he mention any particular

again, with perfect truthfulness. He plans when he left last night?”
would rather have been at the den They agreed that he hadn’t.
tist’s. ‘Til take you both back home.” “Were you in touch with him by
Stamaty talked briefly with Mrs. phone after he left?”
Laszlo and gave her his card. He “No.”
stayed at the scene while Auburn “Were you both here all evening?”
drove them home. “Yes, sir, we were,” said Mrs. Las
“I know this has been a terrible zlo. “Kyle and I were sitting right
shock,” he said as they drew up be here watching television till way
fore the house, “and that you need after midnight.” She paused in
some time by yourselves, but I won painful reflection. “How did— how
der if I could just get some basic in
form ation from you both right “How was he killed? Stabbed,
now?” T h ey w ent back into the ma’am. Probably died instantly.”
house. “W hen was the last time you He waited for her to digest that.
saw Mr. Laszlo alive?” Auburn “He didn’t have a wallet on him, or
asked them. any cash except some small change.
They looked at each other for a We’re assuming he was robbed.”
long m om ent before M axene Lasz “What I don’t understand,” said
lo replied, “Right after dinner last Givens, “is what he was doing there
night. Glen went to the shop— ” in the alley in the first place.”
“W h at tim e w ould that have “It might not have happened
been?” there,” said Auburn. “Had he had
“About a quarter to seven. The any trouble with anybody lately—
sports was on.” any arguments, threats?”
“He walked?” Not that they knew of.
“No, he took the truck.” “Are there any other family
“Did he go to the shop every members or friends, or neighbors,
night?” he might have talked to last night
“Pretty often.” after he left here?”
Auburn looked at Givens. “You “No fam ily members. N eigh
said electronic salvage, I think?” bors—you’d have to ask around.”
“Right. Worn-out stereos and ob “One other thing. We didn’t find
solete computers. Not exactly a gold his glasses. Would he have been
mine.” wearing them last night, do you
“Was it unusual for him to stay think?”
there all night?” “He would if he was working on
“Not all that unusual,” said Mrs. something at the shop.”
Laszlo, w ho was grow ing more “Is there anybody at the shop
composed since taking a pill from a now?”
bottle in her purse. “H e’d get to “No. Glen ran the business by
working on some project or some himself.”
com puter program and fall asleep When Auburn got back to the al
right in his chafr.” ley, the plastic tape was gone. He
t r a d e s m a n ’s e x it 105
found Kestrel washing his hands at H e found it locked and left it that
the elegant lavatory in the rear way. The store was also locked.
compartment o f the evidence van. A jum ble o f electronic equipment
“Find anything at all?” showed th rou gh th e grim e o f a
“Seven brands o f beer bottle, five plate glass window, and when A u
brands o f wine bottle, four brands burn got inside he found the con
o f whisky bottle.” Kestrel rattled fusion was more real than appar
o ff the statistics in his usual hu ent. K yle Givens had said the
morless fashion, and Auburn had business was no gold mine; proba
no doubt the figures were strictly bly it had been operating in the red.
correct. “N o weapon, no wallet, no In any event, L aszlo seem ed to
glasses. Also no usable tire tracks or have been getting the short end o f
foot marks.” most o f his trades.
An ancient, low-slung hearse The h ea t and hum idity in the
that looked like something rented store w ere stifling, and turning on
for a Halloween party pulled into the two antique oscillating fans did
the alley, and two attendants re n’t help much. Dust and disorder
moved the body with all the finesse reigned everywhere. The merchan
and dispatch o f circus clowns. Be dise looked as i f it had been
fore the crowd dissipated, Auburn arranged on the shelves and the
asked if anybody had heard any floor with a bulldozer. Stereos, boom
thing unusual the previous evening boxes, cordless phones, VCR’s, cam
or night. He got no response. corders, videocassettes, fax m a
Dollinger had had instructions chines, speaker systems, and com
from headquarters to stay with Au puter com ponents lay in hopeless
burn and help him interview the chaos, w ith cables— coiled and
neighbors. A uburn gave him the straight, thick and thin, black and
east side o f the alley and he took gray and w h ite— snaking wildly
the west side. around and among them.
Nobody that Auburn talked to In the glass-enclosed office at the
admitted knowing Laszlo. After an back, catalogues, invoices, schemat
hour he touched base with Dol ic diagram s, and business corre
linger, who also had nothing. “Why spondence were filed in bursting
don’t you hit those stores and that cardboard cartons, on w hat A u
bar in the next block, Fritz?” sug burn’s m other used to call the bib
gested Auburn. “I’ll go up to Lasz- lical system: Seek and ye shall find.
lo’s store on Richmond and nose Neither here nor in Laszlo’s work
around there. His brother-in-law shop, w hich looked like Dr. Frank
says this key’ll get me in.” enstein’s lab after the monster
Glen’s Electronic Salvage—“ Buy, snapped its straps, did Auburn find
Sell,Trade”— occupied a deep, nar a pair o f glasses.
row storeroom in the middle o f the In spite o f the mess, Auburn was
block. Auburn had a description of pretty sure nothing had been dis
Laszlo’s truck and spotted it parked turbed since Laszlo had last been in
on the street in front o f the store. the shop. The door to the alley was
106 JOHN H. DIRCKX
securely bolted, and the safe in the The sun was high and hot. Traf
office was intact, even th ou gh it fic was picking up as the noon hour
could probably have been popped approached. Auburn set out on foot
with a Boy Scout can opener. A u to retrace the route Laszlo might
burn didn’t need a can opener be have followed, supposing h e’d
cause he had the key. walked from his store to the spot in
Although by law the property o f the alley where his body was found.
a victim o f violent death w as under He turned west off Richmond onto
the control o f the coroner, Auburn Wise, and after the first block he fell
knew he could make a discreet in in with a gang o f five adolescent
vestigation here without risking boys, footloose and vociferous in
any trouble. The safe contained less their enjoyment o f sum m er free
than a hundred dollars in cash, a dom. One o f them was prancing
couple o f personal checks payable along with his chin in the air, awk
to Laszlo, a vendor’s license and wardly balancing a pair o f glasses
some other legal documents, and a on his nose that obviously didn’t
roll o f large-format com puter pa belong there.
per. This consisted of several fan- The situation called for caution
folded sheets from which the per and diplomacy. If Auburn tackled it
forated strips along each side had wrong, the boys would disperse and
been removed. Although densely he’d never see the glasses again.
covered with numerals, it bore not “Son. Hey, son. Those are my
a single word o f identification or glasses. I’ll give you five dollars for
explanation. them.”
Auburn had arrived a t a fair de His remark was met with dead
gree o f computer literacy as an oc silence and cagey stares, but at
cupational necessity. He recognized least nobody ran.
this printout, which Laszlo had con Auburn moved closer to the kid
sidered important enough to keep with the glasses. ‘Those sure are
in the safe, as a distinct oddity, and mine. Where’d you find them?”
took it with him when he left the The kid took the glasses o ff and
store. After locking it in the trunk examined them, apparently think
o f his car, he decided to have a look ing over what five dollars would
at Laszlo’s truck after all. buy. “Behind Shalimar,” h e said,
It was an unmarked black panel twitching a loose-jointed hand in
truck, old and getting red around the direction o f a groceiy two blocks
the edges. The cab was littered with further west on Beloit.
papers, pop cans, plastic bags, pen “Show me exactly w here you
cils, and miscellaneous hand tools. found them and I’ll make it ten dol
The cargo compartment was em p lars.”
ty except for about two shovelftds o f The glasses had been lying in a
heterogeneous dirt and odd scraps weed patch adjoining the parking
o f wire, rubber, and metal. There lot o f the supermarket, in the same
w as no sign o f a pair o f reading alley where the body was found,
glasses. and the same block, but about two
hundred feet south. Auburn went el truck pulled up on the concrete

over the scene carefully and found apron outside a garage. “E mer
no traces o f blood among the tram gency S ervice,” said the sign on
pled chickweed and chicory. Into a the truck. “S moke and F ire D amage
mental street map he inserted an O ur S pecialty.”
imaginary thumbtack at the point This was the same alley that ran
where the glasses had been found, behind Laszlo’s, but the house, like
which he tentatively assumed was Shalimar Market, faced on Beloit
where Laszlo had been attacked. rather than on Winthrop. He fol
Only then did it occur to him that lowed the brick-paved walk past
he didn’t positively know these the garage and toward the back o f
were Laszlo’s glasses. By now, the the house. This proved to be a siz
imitation leather spectacle case able red brick with an antique sign
that Dollinger had found on the in wrought brass next to the kitch
body had probably been m inced en door that read “Tradesmen’s En
and dissolved in acid by Kestrel at trance.” Auburn peered in through
the forensic lab. But Auburn re the open kitchen door. A cheerful
membered the budget optical firm Amazon in an orange coverall was
whose logo had been stamped on whistling like a steam calliope
the case, and he had passed one o f while m aking measurements with
their outlets repeatedly in the past a spring tape.
two hours. In five minutes a tech “Excuse me?”
nician there was able to confirm The wom an stopped w histling
that the glasses had been sold to and came to the door. “W ere you
Glen Laszlo two years earlier. looking for Mrs. Trolian?”
The route map evolving in A u “Fm not sure who I’m looking for,”
burn’s head gave some indication o f said Auburn. He showed identifi
Laszlo’s movements the night be cation. “Somebody have a fire?”
fore. If he’d decided for some reason “Last night. No big deal, ju st a
to walk hom e from the shop, he grease fire, but it scorched some
wouldn’t have passed within three floor tiles, and there’s smoke dam
blocks o f Shalimar Market. Was he age to the wallpaper and some o f
on his way somewhere else when the cabinets.”
he became the random victim o f a “Hey, you really do give em er
robber with a knife, or did he have gency service, don’t you, if the fire
a rendezvous in the alley with his was ju st last night?”
killer? “I’m only giving them an esti
Alert for any departure from the mate this morning. But we try.
com monplace, A uburn walked Were you checking up on the fire, or
slowly along that stretch of alley, ...” She seemed impatient to get on
past malodorous garbage cans and with her work.
through patches o f fallen mulber “Not exactly. Just doing a routine
ries and rotting crabapples. Tw o investigation here in the neighbor
blocks south o f the market he no hood, but I thought there might be
ticed a remodeling contractor’s pan a connection.”
108 JOHN H. DIRCKX
“Connection with what?” resumed her work, but obviously

Auburn took out a file card. “Can wasn’t missing a syllable.
I get your name?” “About what time did your fire oc
“Janibeth Tischler. Mrs. Trolian’s cur?”
right there in the other room, if you “I don’t know— eight, eight thir
w ant to ask her about the fire. I ty. I put the kettle on to make some
m e a n ... she was here when it hap tea, but I accidentally turned on
pened, and I wasn’t.” the wrong burner. By the time I
Taking that remark as a sort of smelled the smoke from the other
invitation, Auburn ventured to step room, a pan full o f grease from din
inside the kitchen. Most o f the cup n er had caught fire. I put the fire
boards had been emptied, and he ou t with baking soda, but the
could see china and packages of smoke was marking the walls and
food stacked on the floor o f an ad the cupboard doors. I tried to carry
ja cen t room , probably the dining the pan out the door, but it was hot
room. An acrid smell o f smoke hung and I spilled some o f the grease
in the air. there by the dishwasher.”
A youngish woman with sharp “Were you here alone at the
features and short dark hair came time?”
in through another doorway. ‘Yes. I thought you said you
“I thou gh t I heard a man in weren’t interested in the fire.”
here.” A s she m oved on into the “I was just wondering if you were
kitchen, he noticed that the spa hom e all evening, and i f you might
cious pantry behind her had been have heard anything unusual hap
converted into an office. On the pening in the neighborhood— espe
floor under the computer stand was cially out in the alley.”
a big box o f computer paper, and on “Unusual? You mean noises, a
the counter was a bowl o f ripe cher wreck?”
ries. “Anything unusual.”
Even as the wheels began turn “No. All I heard was a two hour
ing in A uburn’s head, he realized lecture from my husband after he
there had been a note o f inquiry in got home last night.”
her voice. He showed identification. Auburn glanced at the bowl of
Immediately she became evasive cherries again. “Does the name
and hostile. “It was only a little Glen Laszlo mean anything to you?
grease fire,” she said. “I didn’t call He lives a couple streets south on
the Fire D epartm ent. I haven’t Winthrop, but his house backs on
even called the insurance company the same alley as yours.”
yet. Was I supposed to report it to “I’ve never heard the name.”
the police?” Auburn moved toward the door.
“No, ma’am. I’m just in the neigh ‘You’re lucky the fire didn’t damage
borhood asking some routine ques your computer,” he remarked off
tions. Your name, please?” handedly.
“Crystal Trolian.” “Well, I guess,” she sighed, sud
The rem odeling contractor had denly more human. “I’ve got five
years o f business records on that pened.” W ith his steel-toed safety

hard disk.” shoes planted about eighteen inch
“Oh, really? What kind of busi es apart, Trolian was rocking from
ness?” H e had one foot on the side to side in a steady, frantic
doorstep. rhythm th at was making Auburn
“Herbal cosmetics. Strictly mail seasick. ‘W h ere do you work, Mr.
order. B ut we ship worldwide. You Trolian?”
married? Got a gal?” “Quintilian Corporation.”
“Not at the moment. You must do “That’s a big place. W hat do you
a good volume of business.” He nod do over there?”
ded at the box of computer paper. “I’m a millwright.”
“Oh, that’s not from this com “You’re a which, sir?”
puter. T h at’s stuff my husband “M aintenance mechanic. Tight
brings home from work. I use it as en the loose bolts, grease the
packing material around bottles for squeaks type of thing.”
mailing.”
“So what’s it going to cost me?” W hen A uburn got back to the
boomed a voice from the back yard. place where Laszlo’s body had been
“An arm or a leg?” found, everything was norm al
“Mike, I keep telling you the in again, except that Kestrel had left
surance will pay for it!” that end o f the alley cleaner than it
Mike Trolian came up the back had been in several decades. Hot,
walk and stood at the foot o f the thirsty, and getting hungry, Auburn
kitchen steps, squinting in the sun walked back to his car and called
at Auburn. He was a big man with Bollinger’s cruiser on his radio.
a pager, a ring o f keys, and an atti They m et for lunch at one o f the
tude. I f Auburn had any idea o f de establishm ents where D oliinger
flating him by showing his badge, it had already made inquiries about
didn’t work. Laszlo and drawn a blank. It was a
“You going to put her in jail or typical neighborhood slow-food din
just fine her a couple o f hundred er, patronized mostly by regulars.
bucks?” They sat at a table in the front win
“I’m not here about the fire,” said dow where they couldn’t be over
Auburn. “Just investigating an in heard.
cident here in the neighborhood “Nobody I talked to on this block
last night.” knew Laszlo by name, except the
“They have another holdup at guys at T h e Elbow Joint,” said
the carry-out?” Doliinger. “T hat’s the bar up on the
“A man was found dead in the far comer. They said Laszlo wasn’t
alley a couple of blocks from here. I in there last night but his brother-
thought somebody here might have in-law was.”
heard something last night.” “W ho— Givens?”
“W hat time last night? I work “Sure. Said he sat there playing
third shift.” cards and bum m ing drinks for a
“We don’t know what time it hap couple hours.”
110 JOHN H. DIRCKX
“That’s not Givens’ story. Or his kind of a link between Laszlo and
sister’s. You get anything else?” the Trolians. We’d better find out
“No. You?” what cars these people own. I f the
“I’m not sure.” A u bu rn had Trolians moved Laszlo’s body a cou
worked with Dollinger o ff and on ple blocks down the alley, they did
for years and respected the u ni n’t use a wheelbarrow. And if
formed man’s acum en and ju d g Givens was at the bar last night
ment. “I’ve got a hunch I know around the time Laszlo was killed,
where Laszlo was killed.” that leaves Maxene Laszlo with
He told him about the scorches out an alibi.”
on the kitchen floor, w hich could After lunch Auburn went back
have been m ade to conceal blood to headquarters, and Dollinger re
stains. He also told about the com sumed his regular patrol duties for
puter paper he’d found in Laszlo’s the balance o f the shift.
safe and the identical-looking paper Lieutenant Savage had a pre
that Trolian brought hom e from liminary report on the exam ina
work for his wife to w rap herbal tion o f Laszlo’s body. Death had ap
cosmetics in. A nd the cherries. parently been due to m assive
“W hy cherries?” internal hemorrhage caused by a
“What?” single stab wound to the upper ab
“W hy w ould he h ave som e o f domen with a long, sharp knife,
their cherries in his pocket?” possibly a butcher knife or kitchen
“I don’t know. M aybe he swiped knife, possibly a bayonet or other
them before things turned ugly and weapon.
they killed him.” There was also a severe head in
“They didn’t kill him for stealing jury, which suggested that Laszlo
cherries. It sounds pretty iffy to me, had been knocked unconscious be
sergeant. I mean, cherries are in fore being fatally stabbed. The time
season right now. There could be a o f death had been tentatively
bowl o f them in the Laszlos’ kitch placed between nine P.M. and mid
en, too.” night. The autopsy was still in
“I know. I didn’t get past their progress. Laboratory tests for
living room. But then there’s the drugs, alcohol, and toxic substances
computer printouts I found in Las would take a day or two. The cher
zlo’s safe. The num bers aren’t in ries found in Laszlo’s pocket would
columns— they’re just printed solid also be tested.
across the sheets. And that’s exact Auburn reported on the progress
ly the kind o f printouts I saw at o f his investigation. “I think we
the Trolians’. I’ll have to get Rifkin ought to get a warrant,” he con
to look at the stuff I’ve got and see cluded. “Get our hands on that com
what he thinks it is.” puter paper in the Trolians’ pantry,
“W hat’s ou r next m ove?” and have Kestrel look over their
“There’s probably not much more kitchen knives and check out the
we can do until we get background place for trace evidence that Lasz
checks and see if there could be any lo was killed there.”
“Cy, there’s com puter paper experience or negligence o f police

everywhere. This trash can is half officers and clerical staff, and the
full o f it. The world is gradually other h alf designing programs and
sinking in a sea o f it, and you think safeguards to prevent further
because you found— ” glitches.
“D on’t forget the cherries.” Auburn handed him the roll o f
“W hy cherries?” printouts, which he had marked
Auburn took a deep breath and with his nam e and the date, time,
exhaled slowly. “1 don’t know. The and place o f discovery. “W hat can
dead guy had cherries in his pock you tell m e about this?” he asked.
et. N o wallet, just three cherries. “Looks like some kind o f calcula
There’s a big bowl o f them in the tion.” Rifkin unrolled and then un
Trolians’ kitchen. M aybe when folded the paper on his worktable.
Laszlo saw they w ere going to “This goes on and on. Looks like a
waste him, he stuck the cherries in big calculation.”
his pocket as a clue to who did it.” “Calculation o f w hat? Could it
For a while, Savage ju st looked at ju st be som e kind o f business
him. “Do three cherries mean some records?”
thing in some kind o f internation “There’s no way, sir. This isn’t a
al code? O r do you figure he spreadsheet, ju st solid numbers.”
thought we could trace those par “I noticed that.”
ticular cherries to that particular Rifkin ran his eyes over the rows
kitchen?” o f numbers. “A t a guess, I’d say it’s
Auburn shrugged helplessly. a quotient. Something divided by
“Cy, there’s a big bowl o f cherries something else and carried out to
in my kitchen. Find me a more sub the zillionth decimal place. Only
stantial link than cheiries between the decimal point and the whole
Trolian and Laszlo and you’ll get first page, showing w hat was di
your warrant. Didn’t you tell me vided by what, are missing.”
the wife’s alibi for the tim e Laszlo “Is there any way you can figure
was killed got shot down by a bar out what it means, or w hy a guy
tender?” would keep it in a safe?”
“So Dollinger says. I’ll be check “I can try.” Rifkin looked at his
ing on that further today.” watch. “N ot any more today, but I’ll
“I would hope so. Like Captain see if I can make anything out o f it
Morsch used to say, butchery be by the end o f the week.”
gins at home.” Routine business, including en
A uburn found Reuben Rifkin, tering a record o f the current in
Public Safety’s resident computer vestigation in his ow n personal
geek, in his office in Administra computer, occupied Auburn for the
tion. Rifkin was probably twenty- next hour or so. About the time he
eight but looked like a high school was thinking o f going home, he got
sophomore. He spent h a lf his time the background checks h e ’d re
trying to recover com puter files quested on the principals in the
that had been lost through the in Laszlo investigation.
112 JOHN H. DIRCKX
Their slates were all clean as far and force. The weapon must have
as the police were concerned, but had a blade at least nineteen cen
Laszlo had been in bad shape fi timeters long. (Auburn looked hard
nancially. He was behind in his rent at his left pinky finger, whose nail
at both hom e and store, and there was exactly one centimeter wide.)
were a couple o f liens against his The dead man’s stomach contained,
business. His wife was currently am ong other things, undigested
laid o ff from a job as receptionist at cherries. Toxicology reports weren’t
a beauty parlor. yet available.
G ivens had worked as a body The state Bureau o f Motor Vehi
shop mechanic and bus driver be cles m aintained a bank o f digitized
fore his reserve unit was sent to driver’s license photographs, o f
the Persian G u lf for O peration which color enlargements w ere
D esert Storm. He hadn’t worked available to law enforcement agen
since. H e had been granted a med cies worldwide. Before nine o’clock,
ical discharge from military service Auburn was on the street with five-
with total and permanent disabili by-eight mug shots o f the Laszlos,
ty status. He had a currently valid the Trolians, and Kyle Givens.
chauffeur’s license but no vehicle The Laszlos’ next-door neighbor
was registered in his name. Mike was a retired widower who shook
Trolian had been in the sam e job hands with Auburn, offered him a
for fourteen years. He had a decent glass o f homemade wine, and
work record, and had never come to seemed incapable o f answering
the attention o f the police. His questions about his neighbors with
w ife’s herbal cosmetics business out interjecting generous extracts
was apparently legitimate. from his own life history. He wasn’t
By the time Auburn had sifted particularly fond o f the Laszlos and
through this information, even Sav their boarder. Their habits o f be
age had gone home for the day. He rating one another at the top o f
decided to sleep on the case, wait for their lungs and slam m ing the
the autopsy report, and hope that screen door day and night were
any trace evidence at the Trolians’ enough to brand them as riffraff in
wasn’t obliterated before he’d per his eyes.
suaded Savage to get a warrant None o f the Laszlos’ neighbors
and send in an evidence technician. recognized photos o f the Trolians,
and none o f the Trolians’ neighbors
W hen he got to headquarters knew Laszlo, his wife, or his broth-
next morning he found a prelimi- er-in-law. He revisited the business
n aiy autopsy report, faxed by Sta- block Bollinger had gone over yes
m aty from the coroner’s office in terday and found that several peo
the courthouse across th e street, ple knew one or more o f the people
showing that death was due to he in the pictures, some even by name,
m orrhage from a tear in the ab but nobody remembered ever see
dom inal aorta. The k n ife thrust ing Trolian or his wife with any o f
had been delivered with both skill the others.
Clerks at the nearest branch post and arranging bottles for the noon-
office recognized both Mike and hour trade. He knew both Laszlo
Crystal Trolian as people who often and Givens by name. He also knew
mailed parcels, sometimes five or Laszlo was dead. He had seen the
ten at a time. H e talked to the brothers-in-law together, but not
postmaster, who told him parcels often and not recently.
couldn’t be traced unless they were “Yesterday morning,” said A u
insured, registered, or certified, and burn, “you told a police officer that
even then the information was Kyle Givens was in here the night
privileged and couldn’t be released before last, Tuesday night. Do you
without a court order. stand by that?”
The Elbow Joint, the bar where ‘Yes, sir.” The bartender had a
Givens was supposed to have been head like a bowling ball and eyes
on the night Laszlo was killed, like a snake’s. “Kyle set right over
wouldn’t open until noon. Auburn there for two, twonahalf hours on
used the time to stop in at a few se Tuesday night, just like he does ev
lected businesses in the area— a ery night. And he walked out o f
shoe repair shop, a storefront pizze here at ten o’clock, ju st like he does
ria, a card and gift shop in whose every night. I don’t tell no lies for
back room something violent but nobody.”
amusing was going on. “Why do you say that?” asked Au
At a branch library he struck burn, n aive as a kindergarten
gold. “That’s Mr. Laszlo,” said the li teacher. “Has somebody been ask
brarian at the circulation desk ing you to tell lies?”
when he showed her the dead “Not as I remember.” He stared
man’s picture. “The computer man. unblinkingly at Auburn as he said
He comes in all the time to look up this, but then Auburn seemed to
things in computer manuals.” rem em ber that snakes are inca
She recognized Trolian’s picture, pable o f blinking.
too. “I don’t know his name. I think After lunch he visited the Lasz-
he’s a writer or a teacher. Or may los’. W hen Maxene answered his
be a gridder.” ring, she was wearing sunglasses,
“A which, ma’am?” presumably to hide the fact that
“One o f these crossword puzzle she’d been ciying. Or maybe that
fanatics— they go for the big prizes she hadn’t been. She was also wear
in the national tournaments. The ing engagement and wedding rings
reason I say that is that I often see that she hadn’t been wearing the
him looking up things in the day before.
unabridged dictionary there on the “I’d like to get just a little more in
stand. He usually takes it over to a formation from you if I could,” A u
table to work.” burn began.
She didn’t remember ever see “ Do they have any idea who
ing Laszlo and Trolian together. killed Glen yet?” she asked.
At The Elbow Joint the bar “No, ma’am, but we’re working
tender was busy racking glasses on it. I think you told me that on
114 JOHN H. DIRCKX
the night your husband was killed the undertaker to pick them up. He
you and your brother w ere here at saw no military trophies in Givens’
hom e all evening.” room. Had they used bayonets in
‘W e ll, most o f it. Kyle goes up to Operation Desert Storm?
the bar on the com er m ost every Out in back there was nothing
night for an hour or two. It’s hard left o f the garage but its concrete
on him , sitting around the house all floor— a common enough circum
day and not being able to work. I stance in Smallwood. Maxene’s car
never like to go up there with him was up on blocks with both front
cause the men talk so rough.” wheels off, and by all indications it
“So you were home all that eve had been in that state for weeks.
ning, and for part o f the time you
were here by yourself?” A little before ten that night, Au
“T hat’s right.” burn parked up the street from The
A strident creaking o f the back Elbow Joint, in a spot from which
stairs heralded the approach o f he could see both front and side
Givens, who looked as i f he’d just doors. He wasn’t sure Kyle Givens
gotten out o f bed five minutes be was inside but he didn’t care to
fore. H e admitted having been at show himself to find out. At ten P.M.,
The Elbow Joint while his brother- alm ost to the minute, Givens
in-law was being done in. He was emerged from the side door and
va gu e about the tim e he’d left vanished into the dark alley behind
there, and they were both vague the bar— the same alley in which,
about the time he’d got back home. two blocks away, Laszlo had been
H e agreed they’d w atched the found murdered.
eleven o’clock news together but Mindful o f that nineteen cen
said h e’d slept through most o f the tim eter knife blade, A uburn fol
m ovie they’d watched afterwards. lowed on foot at a discreet distance.
“M ind if I look around here?” Visibility was poor in the alley, but
It was ju st a once-over for orien there was just enough illumination
tation purposes, Auburn told him from the adjacent houses for him to
self, not a search. If he found any follow Givens’ movements. Almost
thing incriminating, he wouldn’t immediately the man he was tail
dare touch it, knowing as he did ing stopped at a van in a parking
th a t no court would find he had lot, unlocked it, and climbed in. Au
probable cause for search and burn scrambled back to his car and
seizure. managed to be in the right place to
N o cherries were in evidence in follow Givens when, a minute or
the kitchen. There was a good deal two later, the van pulled into the
o f clutter in some parts o f the street.
hou se, as if som ebody had just Givens made straight for the in
m oved in or ju st moved out. In a terstate and, once on it, shot along
sense, somebody had. A suit, a shirt, the fast lane like a maniac. Auburn
and a tie were laid out on the bed called in the number on the van’s li
in the master bedroom, waiting for cense plate, and before Givens took
the Heron Township exit he knew ability paym ents from the Veter
it was registered to PhotoPhast- ans Adm inistration if the next day
Plus, a film developing service. hadn’t been payday. But when he
Givens parked the van next to a glanced over the Leave and Earn
freestanding PhotoPhast booth at ings Statement that came with his
Heron Mall, dark and deserted at check and saw how much federal
this hour. W hile Auburn watched tax had been deducted, he reached
from the road, Givens unlocked the for the phone.
booth, deposited a square metal Later in the m orning he went
case inside, and removed an iden back to Laszlo’s store, turned on
tical one to the van. The whole op both fans, opened the alley door,
eration took less than three min and set out to find some evidence o f
utes. Then he was off again like a a connection betw een the dead
shot and back on the interstate. man and the Trolians. It took him
Auburn had the dispatcher get two hours to dig up a receipt for
him the addresses o f all the other forty dollars signed by Michael J.
PhotoPhast booths listed in the Yel Trolian, in paym ent for an older
low Pages. Thus he was able, with model com p u ter and som e com
out getting close enough to arouse puter games.
Givens’s notice, to observe that he H e ran it back to headquarters,
visited the ones in Wilmot, Dwight, but found that Savage was in a
Stillwell, and Scotchburg, one af meeting. There was an e-mail mes
ter the other. It was about a quar sage on his PC from Reuben Rifkin.
ter to one in the morning when He found the computer expert in an
Givens parked the van exactly expansive mood.
where he’d found it and walked up ‘W h a t you’ve got here, I think,”
the alley in the direction of the Las- said Rifkin, “is the quotient that
zlos’ house. you get when you divide seven hun
Still keeping his distance, A u dred thirty-one by six hundred four.
burn watched him slip in the back The first part o f it— the numeral
way and heard the crash o f the one and the first couple hundred
screen door. In ten minutes the digits to the right o f the decimal
house was dark. point—is missing. From what’s left,
Givens’ driving a route for Pho- I punched in several strings o f fif
toPhastPlus tonight didn’t prove ty digits each, and my program
he hadn’t stabbed his brother-in- identified m ost o f them as part of
law two nights before, but it prob the decimal form o f seven thirty-
ably explained why both he and his one over six oh-four. But not all of
sister had been so fuzzy about his them. E very now and then the fig
alibi for the time of the murder. ures go w rong for a while.”
Auburn wasn’t working for the “You m ean they’ve been rounded
feds, and he might have been dis o ff? ”
posed to forget the fact that Givens Rifkin looked at him askance.
was gainfully employed while “The only round number is zero,” he
drawing total and permanent dis said, as if he were reciting one of
116 JOHN H. DIRCKX
the Ten Commandments. “N o, ev “Is your husband home?” asked

ery page or so, the figures are com Auburn.
pletely wrong for a couple o f lines. “He’s playing golf at Sweetwa
Then they get back on track again.” ter.”
“Computer glitch?” “Ma’am, we have a warrant to
Rifkin winced like a m an whose search your house for evidence in a
deepest convictions have been criminal investigation.” He showed
harshly ridiculed. “ I’d say it’s more her the document.
likely a cipher. The basic or back Her chin shot out and she turned
ground pattern is the quotient, feisty. “What’s going on here? You
which any com puter could grind conned me, mister. You said you
out to as many decimal points as weren’t investigating the fire.”
you want. Where the numbers vary ‘Yesterday I wasn’t.”
from the proper sequence, that’s “I have to be out o f here by a
your cipher text. W hat it means I quarter to six. I have choir practice
can’t tell you. You’d need a cryptog on Thursdays.”
rapher to analyze it for you. They’ve “We’ll try to be quick. Have the
got some pretty fancy software repair people started work yet?”
nowadays to speed up the process. “No, because we’re waiting for
Unless it’s some kind o f book ci the insurance company to okay the
pher.” estimate. And if you throw a mon
“Such as?” key wrench into that— ”
“Such as references to chapters He and Kestrel were still stand
and verses in the Bible, or pages ing outside on the porch steps.
and lines in some other book, like “Why would we do that?”
Shakespeare.” “Well, what are you looking for,
“How about an unabridged dic- for heaven’s sake?”
tionary?” “Well know when we find it,” said
Auburn, taking firm hold o f the
By four o’clock he and Kestrel, doorknob.
the evidence technician, were at They were as polite as she was
the Trolians’. They parked in the al rude, but they were very thorough.
ley and rang at the kitchen door. Most of the kitchen paraphernalia
While they waited for a response, was still stacked and strewn about
Kestrel evinced a particular inter the dining room floor. Not a knife on
est in the “Tradesmen’s Entrance” the premises escaped their scruti
sign. ny.
“Antique,” rem arked Auburn. While Kestrel was down on his
“Brass.” hands and knees taking swabbings
“A lso politically incorrect,” re o f the scorched floor tiles, Auburn
m arked K estrel w ith deadpan had an inspiration and went out to
earnestness. his car to call headquarters.
“It’s the police again,” said Crys They ransacked the pantry cup
tal Trolian. She cast an inquisitive boards with meticulous care, learn
eye at Kestrel’s field kit. ing far more than they wanted to
know about the retail trade in “In your choice o f colors, styles—”
herbal cosmetics. There were stock “Look, w hat’s the point o f having
bottles and empty bottles, printed insurance if—”
labels, pamphlets, wrapping mate “You set that fire on purpose, did
rial— including lots o f used com n’t you? Just to get some free re
puter paper. Kestrel tucked sam modeling?”
ples o f that away in his case, along “Prove it.”
with several cherries, and wrote “I don’t think I’ll have to prove it.
out a receipt. I think you’re going to admit it, be
Except for the disorder created cause otherwise you’ll probably be
by the fire, it was a neatly orga arrested as an accessory to m ur
nized and shipshape residence, der.”
childless and cheerless. There was Her stupefaction was obviously
a digital piano in one o f the bed genuine. “W hat are you talk ing
rooms. about?”
“What are you looking for?” she “Sergeant Kestrel and I are in
asked for the tenth time. “What do vestigating a homicide. We’re look
you think you can prove, taking all ing for evidence that a man was
these samples? It was just an acci killed in this kitchen the night b e
dent.” fore last.”
“W hat was ju st an accident, “You said he was killed a couple
ma’am?” o f blocks from here.”
“I told you yesterday.” She was “I said he was found dead a cou
within an inch o f losing control. “A ple o f blocks from here.”
pan of grease caught fire. It could Mike Trolian came in by the front
happen to anybody.” door, stowing a golf bag noisily in
Something in her tone started the hall before appearing in the
Auburn thinking along entirely kitchen.
new lines. What had first led him to “Mike, you w on’t believe this,”
suspect that the fire had been set she said. “They’ve got a search war
deliberately to cover evidence o f a rant.”
murder was that there wasn’t any “Let me see it.” Auburn did. K es
damage to the structure o f the trel, who dreaded hostile confron
house, only to the interior decor. tations, suddenly becam e deeply
Wallpaper, cabinet fronts, floor tile. absorbed in his specimen contain
“How much was the estimate you ers. “W hat’s this all about?”
sent in to the insurance company?” “Oh, Mike, it’s just a mistake. But
he asked. listen, we’ve got to talk. About the
“About eighty-eight hundred dol fire. It wasn’t an accident.”
lars,” she said. “What do you mean?”
“To fix the damage here?” “Just w h at I said. I faked that
“They couldn’t match any o f this fire because you wouldn’t let m e
stuff. That floor tile is twenty years remodel the kitchen.”
old. They’re going to have to gut He didn’t say h a lf o f w h a t he
the kitchen and do it all over.” wanted to, but at that he babbled
118 JOHN H. DIRCKX
and sw ore until he was ou t o f “Oh yeah? What’d he find'?”

breath. Then he started in on A u “A cipher message. He’d seen you
burn and Kestrel. studying the big dictionary on the
“Mike,” she said, “they’ve got the stand at the library’, and that gave
idea that we had something to do him the clue to crack your cipher.”
with that man who was killed up Trolian sat down.
the alley two nights ago.” “Mike, w hat’s all this about?”
“W hat’s this ‘we’ ? I wasn’t even Crystal Trolian stood in the break
hom e two nights ago.” fast nook, dazed and somber.
“W here were you?” asked A u “We’d like to take a look in your
burn. golf bag,” said Auburn quietly. “And
“Swimming at the club. I’ve been we need to check both of your cars.”
working midnight to noon the past Kestrel took the hint and w ent
few weeks, and I like to chill down about his business.
out at Sweetwater before I go in to “Wait a minute,” said Trolian.
work. Did you ever walk into a fac “Just wait a minute here. What’s
tory at midnight in July? It’s just this about a cipher?”
one big pizza oven.” ‘You were sending secret mes
“Are there witnesses who could sages on wadded up com puter
prove you were at the country club printouts that were used as wrap
that night?” ping paper in packages o f cosmet
“I don’t know. Probably. W hy ics. Probably on Thursday nights,
would you think we had anything w hen Mrs. Trolian was at choir
to do with some guy getting killed practice, you made up and sent a
that we don’t even know?” few packages she never knew any
“You did know him, Mr. Trolian. thing about.”
You sold him an old com puter in “Mike?”
April. W e’ve got the receipt you Mike had nothing to say.
gave him for the money.” “Laszlo must have come around
Trolian was so obviously taken the night before last— ”
aback that Auburn decided to press “He was never in this house,”
on in hopes o f getting him to break said Crystal. “That I’ll swear. N ot
down on the spot. I f he didn’t break that night, anyway.”
down first himself. His heart start Auburn ignored her and kept on
ed racing and his mouth was so dry at Trolian. “Maybe you arranged to
he could hardly recite the Miranda meet him out in the alley. You knew
warning. “I don’t need a lawyer,” what was coming, and you took
stormed Trolian. “So I sold this guy along a weapon. You decked him
some old computer junk. I didn’t behind Shalimar’s Market. At least
even rem em ber his nam e. W hy that’s where the glasses fell out o f
would I kill him?” his shirt pocket. You dragged or
“Because you left something in carried him through the alley to
teresting on the hard disk o f that the other end o f the block to get
computer, and he found it and tried him farther away from here. Then
to blackmail you with it.” you stabbed him to death. And
grabbed his wallet to make it look polypropylene. Details o f m an u

like a robbery.” facturing processes— tem perature
Trolian sat mute, gray and and pressure cycles, primers, an
sweating. tioxidants, curing agents— w ere
Kestrel found nothing in the golf closely guarded secrets. For more
bag or the cars. When the phone than ten years, Mike Trolian had
rang in the pantry, Auburn didn’t been leaking those secrets in ci
give either o f the Trolians a chance pher messages to “clients” in C an
to answer it. ada, Mexico, and Europe.
“This is A uburn... You did? How But although the used com put
long’s the blade? Eight inches?” He er paper in the Trolians’ pantry
looked at his left pinky finger. “I’d was indeed camouflage for the ci
say that’s about nineteen centime pher messages, such paper was,
ters, wouldn’t you? Give or take a as Savage had pointed out, ubiq
furlong?” uitous and o f little evidential val
He put down the phone. Trolian ue. A n d the fire in the Trolians’
knew what he was going to say be kitchen hadn’t been set to conceal
fore he said it. the traces o f Laszlo’s murder, but
“We found the hunting knife, Mr. to w angle a free redecorating job.
Trolian. In your locker at Sweet On the other hand, he told him
w ater Country Club. You didn’t self, spotting those cherries and
scrub it hard enough. There are draw ing the appropriate conclu
still traces o f blood on it— Laszlo’s sions had been Sherlockian obser
blood.” That last part was pure fic vation and deduction at their best.
tion, o f the sort Auburn was apt to M ike Trolian hadn’t yet im plicat
concoct when he was drunk with ed his w ife in the slaying o f Lasz
triumph. lo, and she maintained Laszlo had
never been in her kitchen, but the
By the next day, w hen he was fact rem ained that the cherries
putting together his final report, had been Auburn’s only valid clue
the triumph seemed a bit hollow. tying the Trolians to Laszlo.
More than one colleague had told On the day after Laszlo’s funer
him he was far too introspective al, Auburn visited the family to re
and self-critical to be a cop. port on the progress o f his investi
It was true that M ike Trolian gation. Givens wasn’t anyw here
had finally confessed to murdering in sight. Maxene Laszlo had put
Laszlo, but Auburn’s determina away h er rings again, or maybe
tion to pursue his investigation at she’d pawned them to buy a set o f
the Trolians’ had been based on tires for the car. When he told her
some pretty shaky reasons. about Trolian ’s m otive for m u r
Quintilian Corporation was a d ering her husband, he toned
m anufacturing firm whose vast down the blackmail angle, w ith
and diversified output included out quite portraying Laszlo as a
products molded and extruded in m artyr to the cause o f righteous
neoprene, vinyl, polyurethane, and ness.
120 JOHN H. DIRCKX
“K yle and I heard on the radio “Well, Glen got depressed a lot.
this m orning that som ebody had The shop wasn’t making any mon
been arrested,” she said. “U p till ey. A n d then Kyle used to pick on
th en w e were afraid m aybe Glen him all the time about different
h ad killed himself.” things. When he left here the oth
T h is was a new slant, o f no con er night, he was pretty down. He
ceivable relevance to the outcome didn’t even finish his dinner. Just
o f the case, but intriguing nonethe stuck some cherries in his pocket
less. “W hy did you think that?” and walked out.”
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W hat G oes A rou nd
John L. French
ypsy's Caravan is one o f who pays their salaries. A nd if they
G the better theme parks on

the East Coast. It w on’t
the Flags, but it’s large enough so

ever forget, Hamilton W inslow is
usually right at their elbow to re
scare the Mouse or the peoplemind
with them.
H am ilton W inslow ow ns the
that the average visitor needs two park, and m ost o f the town. W il
days to see and do everything. Dur liam Winslow founded the town be
ing the peak season both the park fore the Revolution and in m any
and attached motel are usually full. respects, the effects o f th at w ar
I do security work for the park. have yet to take hold here. Free
Not the uniformed guard type o f speech, representative government,
security, or the kind where I make equal rights for all— not in W ins
sure that the employees—sorry, low. There is the principle o f one
park associates—don’t tap the tills man, one vote. Hamilton’s the man,
o f the souvenir shoppes. (Yes, it’s and he has the vote. Everyone else
really spelled that way on all the goes along. Those who don’t like it
stores.) Neither do I walk the are free to leave, and are frequent
grounds at night making sure no ly helped to do so by the local police.
one sneaks or stays over. Fm more Hamilton was the one w ho hired
the kind o f security you don’t see, me. I was on the good end o f tw en
that is, if I do my job right. ty years with the Baltimore Police
I’m the troubleshooter. W hen Department, waiting for the right
something goes wrong that might job to com e up before turning in
attract unwanted attention— say m y papers. Hamilton was attend
from the police, or worse, the press ing a theme park owners’ confer
— I’m called in to take care o f it. If ence at the Baltimore Convention
all goes well, then no one outside Center. While there, he engaged the
the park hears about it. If it’s the services o f a professional “escort”
kind o f occurrence that can’t be con for the evening. W hen he w oke up
tained, then Fm at least expected to in the morning, she was gone and
control the situation long enough so was his wallet.
for the press agents to spin things I answered the larceny call. To
in the right direction. his credit, he told me the truth
Actually, the police are not that about what had happened, rather
big a problem. Winslow’s a small than give me the old “1 guess I for
town, and Gypsy’s the only major got to lock the door” story. After that
industry. The mayor, the chief o f po he told me who he was and about
lice, the town council— they know owning Gypsy’s. We agreed that to
121
122 JOHN L. FRENCH
avoid embarrassment to him or the So far it was obvious. Whoever

park, we’d say he had probably lost this was had gone to sleep last
his wallet shortly after leaving the night with every intention o f wak
convention center, and had not dis ing up today. Sometime during the
covered it lost until he had re night something inside him gave
turned to the hotel— alone. out and ruined his plans.
As I was writing the lost proper I didn’t stop being a cop when I
ty report, Hamilton asked me how left the BPD. A nd just because m y
long I had been on the force. One new job’s interest is to protect those
thing led to another, and I left with o f Gypsy’s doesn’t mean that I take
a job offer. A month later I was the it any less seriously. So I set about
newest park associate o f Gypsy’s doing those things that must be
Caravan. A s I said before, my job at done whenever a dead body is
Gypsy’s is to quietly deal with sit found.
uations that might lead to unfa N ot for th e same reasons, o f
vorable m ention in the press— and course. The police investigate dead
a dead body at the Sly Fox Motel al bodies in case they’re homicides. I
m ost always qualifies as one o f do a full investigation to show that
those situations. the park was in no way responsible
I was in the armory m aking sure for the death. And o f course, if the
that the newest shipment o f blank investigation shows that we might
cartridges used in the W ild West be responsible, we know before any
Show were indeed all blanks when one else and can take steps to mit
my pager w ent off. The message, igate that responsibility.
“911—Fox,” told me to finish m y in Before doing any searching, I got
ventory later. Grabbing m y equip out my digital cam era and took
ment bag, I took the Cannonball photographs o f the room and the
Express to the main gate, then the deceased. Digital photography is
Safari Shuttle to the motel. W hen perfect for what I do. Digital means
I got there, the manager led me up that I don’t have to trust any dark
to room 324. He opened the door, room people n ot to tell what they
waved me in, left me to do my job. see when they develop the photo
The body w as that o f a white graphs. Digital means that I can
male, probably in his late forties. print the pictures I need when I
He was in the double bed nearest need them. And digital means that
the window, under the covers. I if things in the photograph need to
pulled back the sheet and saw that be “adjusted” to fit alternate ver
he was wearing only boxer shorts. sions o f what happened, it can be
The rest o f his clothing w as on the easily done.
other ted, no doubt thrown there as After taking my pictures, I got
he undressed for the night. There brush and powder out o f my bag
were no signs o f trau m a on the and dusted the obvious surfaces.
body, and nothing to indicate that Hallway doorknob, bathroom sink
any struggle had taken place in the and toilet, the bottles in the trash-
room. cans. Someone m ay have teen with
WHAT GOES AROUND 123
the deceased when he passed over, face to show around downstairs.

and I may need to know who it was. (Another nice feature o f digital—
Just in case someone had been the view screen on the back lets
with my new friend, I stripped off you display the photo you just took.
his shorts and threw them on the A nd if you don’t like it, or if it’s the
other bed with the rest o f his cloth least bit embarrassing to the cause,
ing. I’d run a U V light over them well, that’s what “delete” is for.)
later to see if there were any stains Everything went smoothly. Hec
that suggested he had entertained tor was picked up and sent to the
a guest. As I took off the boxers, I hospital w ith no one else the wiser.
noticed that lividity had already And Hector was Hector— the desk
set in. The body was loose so rigor clerk recognized the picture. When
had come and gone. He must have I asked if she was sure, she told me
turned in early last night. H e’d that few people check in alone, that
been dead for awhile. it’s either couples or families with
I called Winslow General Hospi kids. Som eone checking in by him
tal and told them I had a special pa self, him you remember.
tient at the motel. That would clue That last bothered me. W hy did
the dispatcher into sending an un Hector check in by himself? I f the
marked van. If we timed it right, pictures in his wallet were to be be
we’d be able to remove the body lieved, he had a wife and two kids.
without any o f the other guests W hy didn’t he bring them? A con
knowing anything was wrong. vention? W e have them all the time,
I knew from past experience that but Hector had none o f the usual
the hospital van wouldn’t arrive for ju n k th at you pick up at those
at least twenty minutes. While I things— n o goodie bag, no
waited, I finished my search. The brochures, no Hi, I’m H ector name
room gave up nothing besides what tag. Besides, the Sly Fox is strictly
you’d expect a man traveling alone for the tourists. The convention cen
to bring with him. A wallet from ter has its own hotel and he would
the pants on the bed told me that have been staying there.
the deceased was Hector Young, There w as something else both
that he was forty-five, and that he ering me, too. I w asn’t sure just
lived in Richmond, Virginia. Tucked what it was, but m y cop instinct
away in his wallet was a season’s told me that something was off in
pass to the park. Hector, I thought, that room . There was something
why’d you have to come to Gypsy’s there that shouldn’t have been, or
to die when there are so many nice else som ething th at should have
parks in your state? been there (besides the wife and
Before I left, I’d check with the kids) was missing.
desk to make sure that Hector Back in my office I downloaded
Young had rented this room, and the pictures from m y camera to my
that the guy on the bed was the PC. I reviewed them one by one,
Hector Young who had checked in. zooming in and out, looking for that
I made sure to take a photo o f his something out o f place. Nothing in
124 JOHN L. FRENCH
the bedroom or bathroom. I turned “So what did he die of?”

to the shots o f the body. A nd there “Heart failure.”
I found it. This is what Martin tells m e ev
I spent two years in th e crime ery time I’ve come to him about a
lab before becoming a sworn officer. death. It’s what he tells everyone. It
Even after that, I saw m y share o f was almost funny the first time,
dead bodies. So I really shouldn’t now it’s just a ritual I have to go
have missed it in the first place. through to get the information I
W hen a body dies, the heart stops need.
pum ping blood. Since it’s n o longer “And what caused his heart to
in motion, the blood, like all liquids, stop?”
seeks its lowest level and pools in “Stroke.” That was odd. A heart
the parts o f the body closest to the attack maybe, but Hector hadn’t
ground. The pooling o f blood after looked like any stroke victim I had
death is called lividity. seen. “At least that’s what’s going
W hen Hector died in his bed, the on the autopsy report,” he added.
blood in his body should have col N ow it made sense.
lected on his buttocks, back and Like me, the other park associ
legs. Instead, only his buttocks and ates, every appointed position in
feet bore the redness o f lividity. Had town, and most o f the other ones,
he been found in his chair, that Martin owes his job to the good will
w ould make sense. So it was more o f Hamilton Winslow. Anyone mak
than likely that he had died some ing the park, the town, or the man
where other than his room. I was him self look bad will soon be look
going to have to visit Doc Harris ing for other work. As I understand
sooner than I thought. it, Martin Harris came to Winslow
Martin Harris is the ch ief path after a not too distinguished career
ologist at Winslow General. A ctu in forensic pathology. In fact, I once
ally, he is the only pathologist, but heard it said that he only became a
he says the title looks good on his pathologist because his patients
resume. Like all good m orgues, his couldn’t sue. Still, toward the end o f
is located in the basem ent o f the his career he made one mistake too
hospital. I had called to tell him m any and was allowed to retire
that I was coming, so he w as ex quietly. His reputation preceding
pecting me. him, he couldn’t get work as an ex
“H e died sitting up,” the doc said pert witness. W inslow General
by w ay o f greeting. Then he bent hired him in spite o f this reputa
back over whoever he was doing. tion, or maybe because o f it. This is
“T hat much I know.” I tossed the the only job Martin could get. H e’s
bag containing his clothing on a not the type to lose it over som e
spare gumey. thing stupid like the truth.
“Anything on them?” A t this point I could do one o f
I shook my head. “Nothing I could tw o things. I could say okay and
find.” Martin stripped off his gloves ask him to send over a copy o f his
and pointed towards his office. report when it was finished. The
family would be notified, arrange off-center to the rear. Easy enough

ments would be made to send H ec to disguise so that it looks like part
tor back to Richm ond, and all o f the autopsy.”
would be right with the world, at Not so easy, really, but only if
least with m y little part o f it. someone’s looking for it. I thanked
But as I said, I didn’t stop being Martin and w ent on my way.
a cop just because I retired. And You might be wondering why a
truths left unspoken have a way o f theme park would cover up m ur
coming back around on you. So I der. It’s the message it sends. We
did the other thing. sell illusions, the illusion th at
“And what caused the stroke?” I things are different here, that real
knew I wasn’t going to like the an life stops at the front gate, that
swer. while you’re our guest, you’re in a
“This.” Doc Harris reached into a safe, fairy tale world where nothing
drawer and took out a small white goes wrong. There is no crime at
envelope. He threw it on the desk our parks; people can’t die, and cer
top. W hatever was inside made a tainly can’t be murdered. A park
dull thunk when it hit the surface. that admits to reality will soon find
A thunk I knew well from my time its guests paying someone else for
on the force. their illusions.
“What caliber?” I asked, not hav It was too late for the truth, any
ing to look. way. W hoever had moved Hector
Martin shrugged. “W ho knows, to his room made sure o f that. P a r k
who cares? It’s not like anyone's go O m c iA i.s C o ver U p M u r der made
ing to see it, or that it even existed.” bigger headlines than D e a t h a t
He looked at me as if I was going to G ypsy ’s C a r a v a n . And since it was
challenge him . I answered his my job to keep the park off the front
shrug with one o f my own. Idly, I pages, I had to work around the
picked up the envelope and shook truth.
out what was inside. Back in m y office, I went over all
I weighed it in my hand. It was the things I didn’t know. W ho had
small, a .22 or .25, depending on killed Hector, and why? Where was
whether it was all there. It was in he killed, and how did he wind up
good enough shape that a ballis back in his room?
tics match might be made. But this I thought about the first tw o
bullet would never be put under a questions. The who wasn’t that im
microscope, not for the murder o f portant. H e was getting a free ride
Hector Young. Hector had died o f on this one. The why worried me
stroke, and like it or not, that was somewhat. I f Hector’s death had
the way it was going to be. been personal, if som eone had
I handed the bullet back to M ar wanted him and him alone dead,
tin. “W here was the hole? I didn’t then no problem. But if his death
see it.” had been random, that meant that
“Almost smack dab in the top o f there might someone out there who
his head, ju st ten to fifteen degrees had decided to start targeting park
126 JOHN L. FRENCH
guests. Not wanting to think in that take place in the stalls. I managed
direction, I decided that I’d worry to convince him that the bad pub
about that when the next “stroke” licity that could result from the dis
victim came along. covery o f cam eras in the ladies’
I called the Richmond police de room far outweighed whatever mis
partm ent to ask their help in noti chief might occur there.
fying Hector’s next o f kin and then Monitor duty is rotated among
walked from m y office over to Cen the regular security staff. It is a
tral Command. Maybe they could break from park duty and most
tell m e how Hector had gotten back people look forward to it. Harry had
into his room. been on duty all week, and would
People have died in the park be have been watching the board yes
fore. N ot that we’d adm it it. We terday when Hector passed away.
have an established procedure for “No, nothing unusual happened,
dealing with the situation. When Mr. Webster,” he told me, Harry’s
ever there is a person in distress, a not the brightest bulb in the chan
m edical team is dispatched. When delier, but he does an adequate job
they arrive, even if the patient is when given the right instructions.
DOA, they treat him as if he were That goes for most o f the security
still alive. An ambulance is called staff. They’re hired more for their
and the patient is rushed to looks, muscle, and ability to follow
Winslow General. It is there that he orders than anything else. And
is declared dead, not at the park. By Hamilton is against hiring anyone
order o f Hamilton Winslow, no one with a police background for regu
dies at Gypsy’s. lar security work. “N o offense,
A t Central C om m and, Harry Jake,” he told m e once, “but ex-cops
J on es had the board. From the are nothing but trouble. Their first
board the man on duty could watch instinct is to confront the situation
any o f twenty m onitors showing and arrest someone, not make the
different views o f the park. The matter go away. And they don’t usu
view s changed every three min ally like bosses, any bosses. Give
utes, ju st long enough for someone me a hungry college kid who can’t
watching the screens to view them find a job any day.”
all once before they shifted to oth The instructions for handling the
er parts o f the park. I f the security “special” sick cases aren’t written
man on duty sees something worth down, but they are explained to ev
checking out, he can then freeze eryone. So are the consequences o f
that camera, maintaining the view not following that or any other pro
long enough to determine if any ac cedure. Screw up and it’s “Well,
tion is needed. goodbye. Here’s a week’s pay and a
Cameras cover the entire park, pass to the park. Don’t use it any
w ith the exception o f inside the time soon.” Given that, it’s unlike
restrooms. Hamilton wanted to put ly anyone used his own initiative to
th em in there as w ell, worried move a body.
about what illicit activities might Still, I checked the log that has to
be filled out whenever any Securi a dead man with a bullet hole in his
ty action is taken. No entries be head. I had a vision o f Hector in
yond the usual— a few would-be the park, sitting on a bench, ju st
troublemakers were ejected, there resting, watching the crowd go by.
were several sick cases, but these Then a stray bullet from the show
were the more typical motion sick sails over th e crowd and takes him
ness, heat strokes, and too-much- out o f the gam e for good. It’s hap
junk-food upset stomachs seen ev pened before, in Baltimore. Tw o
ery day. I looked up at the board years before I retired, a shot fired in
and not for the first time wished for celebration o f the New Year trav
a digital system that would save eled over the rooftops and killed a
every im age captured to a hard man two blocks away.
drive. ‘T oo expensive,” I’m told ev In a rush for the armory, I was off
ery tim e I bring it up. Today it m y chair and into the hallw ay
would’ve paid for itself if I could’ve w hen I rem em bered two things.
found ju st one picture o f Hector. The first w as that I had already
I left Central Command and checked the ammo being used in
went back to think in my own chair. this week’s shows. All o f it blank.
Except for his season’s pass, there The second was that the guns in
was no indication that Hector had the show w ere big, .44 revolvers,
died in the park. I tried to get com and not capable o f firing the bullet
fortable with the idea that he had that had killed Hector. I slowed
died outside my jurisdiction, may down and walked to the armory.
be somewhere in Winslow proper, Weapons inventory, checking and
shortly after leaving the park. The counting th e ammo and com par
more I thought about it the better ing it again st new orders and
I liked it, keeping my fingers known stores helped pass the time,
crossed that my random shooter but it really didn’t get my mind off
was ju st an idle worry. In any case, Hector. T h e how and why o f H ec
I had done all I could do. I decided tor’s death kept nagging at me. I
it was time to get back to doing put m yself in the shooter’s place.
what I was doing before the 911 W here could I stand to be able to
call came in. shoot a sitting man in the head? I
And that was checking the am mentally reviewed the layout o f the
munition for the Wild West Show. park looking for the right com bi
Real guns are used in the show nation o f accessible high spots and
(Hamilton insists), so I’ve made it benches, and then thought o f some
my jo b to make sure that only thing else that put the shooting out
blanks are fired in them. And that o f the park.
despite how it appears on stage, no One o f th e things the security
actor ever fires a gun directly at team is trained to recognize is the
another performer. That kind o f ac sound o f gunfire. Anyone who has
cident we don’t need. really heard a gun go off, and TV
A sudden, terrible thought hit and the m ovies don’t count, knows
me. Guns, possible live ammo, and that it sounds nothing like a car
128 JO H N L. FRENCH
backfire. It has a distinctive pop. “Supposed to be, huh?” Well, now

Security is trained to run toward I knew why Hector was here alone,
that pop if they ever hear it. Not to and what the probable motive for
confront the shooter, but to get as his death was. “Did Mrs. Young
many guests out o f the way as pos have a reason for Hector’s taking a
sible. Once the guests are clear, the long detour?”
few guards qualified to carry weap “No, and I don’t think it’s oc
ons would be called in to deal with curred to her yet why he did.”
the gunman. “Let’s hope it stays a mystery to
No one reported any gunfire yes her.” She made a sound o f agree
terday. And the security coverage is ment and I went on. “I f you would,
such that every part o f the park is call and tell her that the funeral
at least within earshot o f one guard hom e can pick up her husband’s
or the other. That made m e feel bet body at Winslow General. I’ll make
ter, until I rem em bered where I sure that the death certificate and
w as standing. M aybe everybody all other papers will be ready.”
heard the gunfire, and ju st didn’t “Sure thing. Anything else I can
pay it any attention. do for you?”
Stepping outside the armory, I “Detective Haywood, you’ve been
walked down the M ain Street o f more than helpful. I f everyone in
Dodge City like a gunfighter o f old. the BPD had been like you, I’d still
I looked south, then north, and then be working there.”
I knew where Hector had been sit Once she heard that I’d been on
ting when the bullet took his life. I the force, we started talking shop.
went back to the office to find out By the time she decided she’d bet
who had killed him. ter get back to work, w e were Jake
The phone on m y desk was beep and Juliet to each other. I told her
ing and blinking, telling me that to make sure to look me up if she
there was a m essage waiting. I ever came out this w ay and prom
pressed play. A wom an’s voice told ised to drop a few park passes in
m e to call Detective H ayw ood of the mail for her.
the Richmond PD about Hector. I After hanging up, I turned to the
dialed the num ber she gave me. computer and looked up work
The same voice answ ered the schedules and personnel records.
phone. It didn’t take me long to put a “who”
“Juliet Haywood.” with the “where” and “why” o f Hec
“Detective Haywood, Jake Web tor’s death. Tomorrow I’d be going
ster here, from Gypsy’s Caravan. to visit the Big Wheel.
You called about H ector Young.” I f you think I mean Hamilton
‘Yes, Mr. Webster. I talked to Mrs. Winslow, you’re wrong. The Big
Young. Your dead man was a used- Wheel is Gypsy’s Ferris wheel. It’s
car salesman, owned a few car lots at the back o f the park, right near
actually, and according to his wife, Dodge City and the stage o f the
he was supposed to be in Maryland Wild West Show. There might be
on a buying trip.” other places in the Caravan where
W HAT G O E S A R O U N D 129
you can get shot in the head while saw m e approaching, relief man in
sitting down, but near the Ferns tow. A fter his relief took over, Gus
wheel no one would pay much at joined m e on a nearby bench.
tention to the shot that killed you. In a park this size, with everyone
Gus Rodgers has been with Gyp hurrying from one attraction to an
sy’s since it opened. H e started by other, trying to get the m ost out o f
sweeping up, worked concessions, their admission price, no one pays
then spent some tim e inside the too m uch attention to w hat’s going
character suits. After getting tired on around them. Oh, they’d notice
o f being poked and prodded by the a clown or a juggler, but not two
kiddies, he switched to working the guys ju st sitting on a bench talking.
rides. He’s been working the Big We had m ore privacy there than
Wheel since they built it five years we would in m y office. Still, we kept
ago. He’s grown old working for the our voices low.
park, and some o f the first kids he’s “Tell m e about it, Gus.”
put on rides are now bringing their “A bou t w hat, Jake?” From his
children to the park. I suppose he’s tone and th e look on h is face, I
near retirement. knew m y guess about the wheel
Gus got married a few years ago. had been right.
His wife is younger than he is, “The guy on the wheel yesterday,
much younger. In fact, she’s ju st the one w h o got on but didn’t get
about H ector’s age. From the off—you know, the dead guy.”
changes made in Gus’s personnel “H ow did you figure it?” Gus
jacket and insurance forms, I noted asked. I didn’t answer. I had my
that his new wife used to live in own questions.
Richmond. “How’s the wife, Gus? Does she
It was early morning when I got know about Hector?”
to the wheel. Gypsy’s wouldn’t open “If she does, she hasn’t said any
for a few hours yet. Safety inspec thing.” H e gave a sour laugh. “N ot
tors were about, making sure all that she would, not to me. She does
the rides were in proper working n’t know I know.”
order. Morning cleaning and main “Tell m e about those two— Hec
tenance crews were taking care o f tor and you r wife.” The nice thing
whatever the night shift had about n ot being official is that
missed. pesky little things like M iranda
Pulling what little rank I had, I warnings don’t apply. I f I had had
rode the Big Wheel during the reg a badge, I would have had to warn
ular test runs. If anyone wondered Gus about talking to me long before
why I stayed on for several rides or this, and to offer him a lawyer
why I kept switching cars, nobody would no doubt make sure he kept
asked. his mouth shut. As it was, we were
Gus’s shift didn’t start until late just two guys talking. And for what
afternoon. I came back then. The ever reason, G us was w illing to
line to ride the wheel was moderate talk. I was willing to let him.
— about a twenty minute wait. Gus “Th ey w ere friends from way
130 JOH N L . FR E N C H
back w hen they were in high ed view is from one car to another
school. I think they met again when seven cars away. And that matches
she w ent hom e for a visit. After the entry angle o f Hector’s wound.”
that, she w ent home on visits a lot I gave Gus time to think about
m ore. H e started com ing to the this, then went on. ‘You don’t show
park.” any type o f firearms training— nev
“How’d you find out about them?” er with the cops, never in the army.
“Does that matter, Jake? I found And for the shooter to be sure that
out, I took care o f it. And there’s his target would be in the right car,
nothing you can do about it.” he had to have the cooperation of
So that’s why Gus was so willing the ride operator— and that’s you.
to talk. He had been around long So tell me, Gus, how much did you
enough to know how things were pay Harry Jones to kill Hector for
run, to w hat extent Hamilton you?”
W inslow would go to avoid bad Gus’s face dropped. Bull’s-eye! It
publicity. Well, maybe so, but that had been a wild shot, but it struck
didn’t m ean he knew Hamilton, home.
and he sure as hell didn’t know me. ‘Y ou asked Harry to help be
“By now, Jake,” Gus went on, “I’m cause he was on the board this
betting that however the doctors week. Anyone else ran the risk of
say Young died it wasn’t from no the camera catching him in the act.
bullet in the head. H e’s probably Harry, however, could have left his
all packed up for his last trip to post just long enough to kill Hector,
Richmond, with papers saying that and be back before his absence was
his death was natural.” noticed. And Harry is one o f the
“Well, Gus, I’m not saying you’re few here who’s qualified with fire
wrong. I’m ju st trying to get all the arms. Now, tell me everything, Gus,
loose ends tied up, ju st to make or so help me you’ll be wearing a
sure that there’s none to trip over bandanna and beating a tambour
later.” I looked at him to make sure ine in the big parade ten times a
th a t h e thought he understood. day.”
T h en we w atched the wheel go Gus didn’t reply right away. “Af
around a few turns. ter I figured it all out,” he finally
“So who helped you, Gus?” said, “after I knew who it was, I’d
H e was too quick to answer. “No see him on the wheel every two
body!” weeks or so. I don’t know why he
In barnyard term s I told him rode it. Maybe he got his kicks
w hat I thought o f that; then I add watching me at work, knowing that
ed, “Gus, to kill someone on a Fer he’d soon be with my wife. Maybe
ris wheel takes luck, timing, a good he didn’t know who I was, and just
aim and cooperation. I rode the liked riding Ferris wheels. I don’t
wheel this morning. Rode it until I know. And I don’t know if I’d have
figured out the angle needed for a done what I did if I hadn’t seen him
good shot. With all the struts and regular. It was like he was nibbing
supports, the only clear, unobstruct it in. So, yes, I planned the whole
W HAT GOES AROUND 131
thing out. Got the idea when I no “I might mention it to him, ju st to
ticed that he was always coming remind him that killing guests is
around during the Western show. against company policy.”
So I asked around to see who need Just for fun I did say something
ed money, and who was likely to do to Harry. H e wasn’t nearly as polite
what to get it. I came up with H ar as Gus was.
ry Jones. Told him I’d pay him two “And what you going to do about
thousand dollars, and it would be it, old man?” Old m an? I m ay have
money well spent. After that we retired from one job, but I was no
waited until I was sure Young where near Social Security. I f H ar
would be coming. And never mind ry didn’t pay for the murder, he’d
how I knew, just say my wife’s not surely pay for that crack. “Send me
as subtle as she thinks she is. When away, you’re coming with me. Last
I was sure, I passed the word to time I checked, covering up m urder
Jones. He had to call in some favors, was still against the law.” A n d he
but he made sure that he was on was right, in most places, but this
the board this week. After that, was Winslow.
well, it happened how you figured “Just wanted you to know that I
it.” knew.” A nd I left it at that, for a
Gus’s story rang true. I saw last while.
night that Harry had switched After dealing w ith H arry and
work assignments to get on the Gus, I finally went to see G ypsy’s
Board this week. Whoever he owed other big wheel. I gave Hamilton
a favor to was not going to collect. the who, why, where, and how o f the
There was one final question. murder. I also told him that Gus
“What did you do, Gus, after Harry and Harry thought that w e could
pulled the trigger? Let a dead man n’t do anything about it.
ride all day until closing then take “Jones I can understand,” Hamil
him back to the Sly Fox?” ton said in a calm voice. “H e’s only
“Nope,” Gus shook his head. “He been here, what, a season?”
only rode until the end o f my shift “Two, he worked admissions se
and Harry’s. Harry got a cart and curity last year.”
we made like he was sick. Then we Hamilton went on. “It’s Rodgers
took him back to the m otel, I can’t figure. H e’s been around
stripped him, and put him to bed.” since forever. He should know bet
“Okay, Gus, that’s it. Get back to ter.”
work.” I stood up. Hamilton was still shaking his
“That’s it? Get back to work?” head when I suggested calling in
I shrugged. “Like you said, Gus, the police— ours, the county’s, the
what can we do? We call you on state troopers, anybody—ju s t to
this, we put ourselves in a bad keep those two from getting away
light.” I gave him my best smile. with murder. Even with offering up
“Just don’t expect a raise anytime D oc Harris as a sacrifice he didn’t
soon.” like it. I didn’t think he would.
‘You going to talk to Jones?” “So what’s your next idea, Jake?”
132 JO H N L. FRENCH
I told him. This one he liked. of silence and the long term bene
“Sounds good,” he said. “Running fits o f accepting a position with
the Big Wheel all these years, Gus Gypsy’s Caravan. She was not a
should kn ow that w hat goes stupid woman.
around comes around. Let’s do it.” Gus got home to find the locks
The next day, I again pulled Gus changed. He later found that not
off the wheel. only had his wife cleaned out their
“You’re fired, Gus,” I told him. joint accounts, but the house was
“No retirem ent, no pension, not now in her name alone. All he had
even a park pass.” I held out an en left was a check that no one in town
velope. “H ere’s your w eek ’s pay. would cash.
Spend it wisely, you’ll need every Hamilton had put the word out
penny.” on Gus. No one knew why, and no
Gus turned white, then red. ‘You one asked questions. H e couldn’t
can’t do this, I’ll, I’l l . . . ” get a job, a room, even a kind word.
“What, Gus, turn yourself in, con The next day he was taken in for
fess to murder ju st to m ake us look vagrancy and given a bus ticket out
bad? Go ahead. Even if anyone be o f town. He left, a sad, broken man
lieves you, we were just going on in with little money and no future.
formation provided by Dr. Harris. Harry was ju st as easily dealt
And he's been wrong before. One with. About the same time I was fir
more tim e’s not going to matter. ing Gus, officers driving a Winslow
Part o f his job description is poten PD police car reported that some
tial scapegoat. A t worst, the park is one had taken a shot at them. A
embarrassed and the doc gets fired, bullet was recovered nearby, a .22
except that he’s got a pension. You, or .25, depending on whether it was
you’ll go to jail for the rest o f your all there. A ctin g on a tip, police
life.” I held out the envelope again. searched Harry’s apartment. There
“Take this and go, Gus, or you’ll go they found a small caliber pistol.
without it.” I nodded to the two se Ballistics tests showed that it
curity guards standing close by, nei matched the recovered bullet. Har
ther o f whom was H arry Jones. I ry was charged with, tried for, and
had other plans for him. Gus took convicted o f attempted murder.
the envelope and left. Was any o f it right? It w asn’t
Before firing Gus, I’d paid a visit right for Gus and Harry to have
to his wife. I told her ju st enough to killed Hector. And you’re probably
let her know that G us had had thinking that it wasn’t right for me
something to do with h er lover’s to have covered up his death. M ay
death. I made sure that she under be not, but I managed to do my job
stood that a future with Gus was no and still get a sort o f justice for Hec
future at all. I explained the value tor Young. I’ll settle for that.
The B lack D am p
Terry Black
t’s called Bone Hollow, it’s the deepest m ine in the Panther Valley,
I gave up thirty million tons o f high-grade coal and sent nineteen

souls to meet Saint Peter before they shut h er dow n in ’76— and I
don’t know w ho’s the bigger fool, son, you for w anting to go down there
or me for taking you.
Watch your step, now. No one’s ridden in this old cage for damn near
twenty-five years, and it might be a tad rusty. You w ant to be extra
special careful because this here shaft goes plum b-bob down about thir
teen hundred and twenty feet, that’s a quarter mile, son, deeper down
than the Empire State Building is high. Once, ou t o f curiosity, I paced off
one-quarter mile from the front door o f my house, got clear to Grover’s
Five-and-Dime on Oak Street and I wasn’t even through yet. That’s how
far we’ll be from the sunshine.
Here goes now, so hang on tight. Oh, sorry, I should have warned you
how fast this thing is. They used to say you could fall down the shaft and
the guys in the elevator would wonder what’s keeping you. You want to
keep your hands inside the bars, son, I’d hate for you to lose that nice
wedding ring.
W hat’s th at? Oh, don’t worry abou t the p ow er cu ttin g out, I had
Chuck B u m s check out that diesel generator up in the head house and
Chuck, he says it’s sound as a dollar and give back change. I was you, I’d
be more worried about bad air or one o f those ro o f tim bers giving way or
maybe a pocket o f gas going up if there’s some kind o f a spark. You’re not
a smoker, son, are you?
Yeah, that’s right, it is getting hotter, we pick up m aybe four or five de
grees every hundred feet or so. I m ake us about halfway down, so if you
do the arithmetic, you’ll see it’s a good time to lose that fancy suit coat
o f yours. Nice fabric, what’d you pay for that?
Anyhow, I was saying what can happen in these old mines. Something
I might mention, it’s called the “black damp,” you get all groggy and sick
and you can’t say why, turns out it’s all that built-up carbon monoxide
from those big jackhammers. You get the dam p, son, you’d best make
tracks or you’ll be paying a visit to Parson’s Funeral Home. ‘Course, the
first thing happens with bad air is you get stu pid and start m aking
wrong choices. That happened to a buddy o f m ine, Jack Sizemore, we
found him at the bottom o f the Jonas Vein with his drill still going in his
hands.
But that’s not what you’re looking to write about, is it? You go back to
133
134 TERRY BLACK
that snotrag o f a newspaper with a story about hard rock miners suck
ing up diesel exhaust, they’re going to toss you out on your well-tailored
backside. We both know what you really want.
W hoops! Pardon the jolt, son, here w e are. Let me open up this old
cage and give you the two-buck tour. Hope this halogen wide-beam holds
out, be awfully lonely way down here in the pitch dark . . . or maybe it
w ouldn’t be. What do you think, son, are those stories true?
This here, then, this is the main gallery. Watch you don’t trip on those
tracks, that’s where the ore cars com e in; we used to haul ’em up and
ship out the coal to the N um ber 9 Breaker over in Lansford. You see
those chutes going up at an angle, all lined with corrugated steel? W hat
you do, you get under that coal and drill upwards at a pitch o f twenty-
seven degrees, no more and no less, and when you hit that vein you drill
som e holes and put in dynam ite and you blow that coal right down the
chute. Then you line it with sheet steel and do it all over again. ‘Course,
you need to plug that chute w hen the car gets full, though you can’t
hardly tell sometimes because there’s so much dust.
That’s the worst o f it, that damn dust.
M aybe you’ve noticed how I keep coughing into this handkerchief?
T hat’s from breathing in forty years o f Pennsylvania coal dust; it’s like
little razor blades down there in your lungs. Every miner gets the Black
Lung sooner or later; you can pack up and quit the mines, but you’ve still
got it and there’s no cure. “Anthro-silicosis,” that’s what Doc Stanton
calls it, a ten-dollar word for how it hurts to breathe a little more each
yea r till finally it’s not worth it and then you die.
T hat’s what you boys should be writing about, you ask me, not this
business about Old Clawfoot and those unsolved killings. But I don’t
guess your readers would buy the Sunday H erald to read about some
w heezing old rockmen, now would they?
W ell, I better get to it, then. M ake sure you r recording m achine’s
turned on, son, because this is going to be about the damnedest story
you ever heard.
I’m going to say it was the fall o f ’72, because Nixon was still presi
dent and they’d just stopped drafting for Vietnam, though I was a little
old for it even back then. I had this buddy Chewie Bamswallow, that
was his actual name, I’d known him a couple o f years but it wasn’t till
that spring that he first started talking about Shaft Thirteen. That’s the
deepest-dow n hole in B on e Hollow, as far as our drills ever dug, and
there at the bottom is the Lazarus Vein, not a hundred feet from w here
w e’re standing. Watch your head there, son.
So Chewie, he’s been drilling on Lazarus all last week, and he says
h e’s got a funny feeling whenever he’s down there. I asked him funny
how, and he hemmed and he hawed and then Old Chewie, he said som e
thing I’ll never forget.
THE BLACK D A M P 135
He said, “Roy, I don’t think w e’re alone down here.”

But when I asked what he meant by that, Old Chewie he ju st du m
mied up and wouldn’t say another word. Chewie was like that, see, h e
was college educated but he came back to work in the m ines anyway,
even though nobody did that. You ask me, I think h e couldn’t hold dow n
one o f those office jobs because anyone he tried to w ork for would think
he was h alf nuts, and I’m not sure they’d be wrong.
Well, I didn’t pay him more than half a mind, but Chewie had this way
o f circling round the subject and coming up the other side, he was kind
o f sneaky like that. So later we’re down at Jonas taking a break, and I’m
feeding dry bread to the rats because as long as there’s rats around you
know the air’s good to breathe. And Chewie, he asks if I know where coal
comes from.
Damn stupid question, you ask me. You don’t need any snooty college
to tell you it’s all that prehistoric muck smashed flat under tons o f rock
over an awful lot o f years. Well, Chewie, he’s nodding, he goes yeah ,
that’s right, it’s called a “geo-syncline.” It’s a sunken deep-water swam p
that rots and gets buried and then kind o f ferments into a big old coal
seam like this one.
So I ask him what’s the point, and he says, don’t you see? This was
alive, all o f it, this was a great big undersea forest, you’ve got ferns big
as departm ent store windows with roots like fingers stretched deep
down into the bog, all rich and full o f life. And it’s like w e’re trespassing
down here, Roy, like w e’re ripping up a thing o f beauty with these big
jackhammers. And I’m thinking, no wonder you couldn’t get a better job ,
you damn fool, but I ju st grunted and kept my m outh shut.
And that’s when we found the dinosaur.
Mitch Bingham spotted it first, he’s trying to pry out a piece o f gran
ite with his pickaxe and all of a sudden he goes, H ey guys, this looks like
a bone or something. So we take a look and it’s a bone, all right, a petri
fied bone, so heavy you can’t hardly lift it. And Chewie, he’s all excited,
says it’s a valuable fossil and w e can’t none of us touch it, we need a p a
leontologist flown in from Philadelphia.
Well, management was none too pleased about that, but Chewie, he
knew just who to call and who to beg and who to threaten, and pretty
soon this team o f specialists shows up from LaSalle University to check
out whatever it was w e found. But they don’t use jackham m ers, they’ve
got little tiny picks and little brass hammers and there’s even a feather-
duster to keep from dam aging the specimen; th a t’s how they said it,
“damaging the specimen.”
Six weeks they’re down there, six whole weeks; w e could load ninety
cars o f anthracite in the time it took to dig ou t those old bones. A n d
Chewie, he’s no help, he says there’s a mine in Belgium where they d ug
out thirty-one iguanodon skeletons, that’s a plant-eater stands sixteen
feet tall; think how long that must have took to dig up. B ut ou r boy,
136 TERRY BLACK
there’s ju st one o f him , and he wasn’t a plant-eater. H e was a nasty lit

tle fella called “Deinonychus.”
You probably know m ore about him than me, I’ll bet, because you’re
the one doing the story. All I know is, he was a dozen feet from head to
tail, a hunter-killer, very fast, close cousin o f some o f those creatures you
probably saw in Jurassic Park. Well, Chewie heard the name and he just
about went nuts. That’s from the Greek, he says, it means “terrible claw,”
because he’s got this b ig old claw in his foot, probably used it to gut who
ever and whatever h e caught him self for dinnertime. I don’t know who
w as first to call our boy Old Clawfoot, but Chewie got hold o f it and the
nam e stuck.
A fter that, he was insufferable.
“W h at if there’s others down here?” he’d say, pointing his safety lamp
up into those dark rocks. “What if Old Clawfoot’s got a thousand rela
tives in this old mine, like flies in amber just out o f reach, and here w e
com e all tram ping and poking around—what if they don’t like it, Roy?”
It sounds silly, doesn’t it, but Chewie had this way o f making even the
stupidest thing sound frightening, especially down there under a quar
ter m ile o f granite w ith that helm et beam bouncing around throwing
shadow s and Chewie half-hysterical, maybe more than half. “W hat are
w e going to do?” he’d say, his eyes all big and shiny like marbles. ‘W e’re
stuck down here, there’s nowhere to go.”
A n d I’d say calm dow n , Chewie, use your head, you’re scared o f di
nosaur ghosts? It’s the dumbest thing I ever heard. And finally he’d go
okay, yeah, w hat w as I thinking, but you could tell it was still there in
the back o f his mind.
Probably he would have got over it, though, if Mike Chisholm hadn’t
turned up dead two w eeks later.
Oh, so you heard about that? Well, I hate to bust your bubble, son, but
there’s not much m ystery about what killed Old Mike. You try holding
th a t big jack h am m er up steady against sheetrock granite, with your
m uscles pounding and the sweat running into your shoes, it’s about the
toughest thing a m an can do. That rock shifts a little and takes you off
gu ard, suddenly you ’ve got a wild drill that’ll tear through flesh and
bone ju st as easy as anthracite coal. I don’t think poor Mike ever knew
w hat hit him.
W ell, the Carbon County medical examiner had the same idea, and
th ey ended up calling it an accidental death. And there’s this sort o f
churchyard hush over the mine for a few days afterward, nobody’s in a
hurry to get back to w ork but that’s our job, son, what else w e going to
do? So pretty soon it’s “shame about Mike” and “good man, Mike was,”
but there’s coal down there still needs to be dug out, and pretty soon it’s
business as usual.
E xcept for Chewie, he’s like a stark raving nutball.
“Did you see the body?” he asked me, kind o f half-whispering even
THE B L A C K D A M P 137
though everyone could hear him ju st fine. We’re in the wash shanty, try
ing to scrub some o f that dirt and dust and sw eat off, and Chewie, he fig
ured I was his best audience, which gives you some idea how the others
felt. So I ask, what do you mean, not because I really wanted to know
but just to get it over with. And Chewie, he says the second thing 111 nev
er forget.
H e says, “That was a claw mark, Roy, running down Mike’s chest.”
Now I know there’s no claw mark, it was ju s t that haywire drill, but
damned if Chewie hasn’t got me wondering about ghosts and dinosaurs
and other things about as crazy as he is. Course, I could always go hom e
to my wife Lucille— she’s five years buried this month, got the cancer
and wouldn’t see a doctor, Lucille; she was real hard-nosed about things
like that— and she wasn’t a fan o f Chewie Bamswallow. Said I should
rid m yself o f that raving loon and be done w ith it. So I said look, Lucille,
w e both know Chewie’s got a sprocket loose b u t I’m worried about him,
I think he might do something. And damned i f I wasn’t right.
All it took was something to set him off. A nd it came sooner than I fig
ured.
See, we’ve got a winze, that’s a tunnel goes up at a slant, it runs be
tween Shaft Ten and the south face o f the Lucas Vein. And two o f the
boys are down there, Sam Peck and Arty Morris, they’re not five m in
utes out o f the cage and there’s this big old grum ble, felt it clean through
my boots, and Max, he’s the fire boss, he goes oh dear God, and that’s
w hen I knew there was a cave-in. I wanted to run down there but o f
course that’s not smart, you want to take you r time and be extra care
ful or they’ll be pulling you out o f there, too.
Well, by the time we got Sam and Arty clear there wasn’t much need
for a doctor. I remember Sam had m ud up his nose, I can see that yet,
and Arty, he had a timber come down, stove in his skull. And now ev
eryone’s kind o f spooky and nervous, two m en down so soon after Mike
Chisholm, it’s bad luck and no mistake. And w ho do you think picks that
moment to stir up the pot even worse?
“This wasn’t an accident,” Chewie says.
And he’s looking at this big roof timber, right where it cracked, there’s
a scrape running down the side and Chewie says that’s why it gave out.
“Only one thing could have done that,” he says, and I’m thinking he’s
really gone off the path this time and I can see I’m not alone. See, none
o f us wanted to hear about Old Clawfoot right then, least o f all me, but
Chewie wouldn’t let go o f it. “He did this, that’s what happened, we dug
too deep and tore up his resting hole and now h e’s going to hunt us down
like animals in these filthy old dead-end caves. You think you’re safe
down here, we’re like a herd he’s stalking. I’ll bet he’s already picked out
the next one to follow in Mike and Sam and A rty’s tracks— ”
Somebody slugged him. No surprise, he w as practically begging for it.
I tried to get in and break it up, but next thing I know Chewie’s knocked
138 TERRY BLACK
o ff his feet and all those boys are cursing and spitting on him and kick
ing him with their hard-soled boots. I ju st barely got him out o f there,
all banged-up and sw ollen and bleeding from the mouth, and I said he
was a damn fool to start raving right then but Chewie wasn’t even lis
tening.
“H e’s down here, Roy,” was all he said.
And I knew this w ould be Chewie’s last day in Bone Hollow, he was
going to quit this job for once and all if I had to drag him out o f there my
self. I left him with the forem an and w ent back to finish out my shift,
and I tried not to think w hat would happen if we had another accident
with the men so scared and mad over what Chewie had been telling
them.
Well, nothing happened for the next four hours, and I went up think
ing it was all over, we could maybe get Chewie hired on as a bank teller
at First Federal, I’d heard they were hiring, and then he’d be someone
else’s problem. I’m halfw ay out o f there, thinking Chewie m ight even
like sitting at that little window with no prehistoric monsters anywhere
close, and then I saw som ething ju st about made my heart seize.
You see, there’s a pegboard by the elevator. Every man has a little
piece o f brass stam ped l e h ig h n a v ig a t io n co al co m pany with a number
inscribed at the top. T h a t’s your check number, you turn it over when
you leave the m ine a n d th at’s how th ey know everyone’s out. W ell,
Chewie’s number was 57, he used to say it was because he liked Heinz
ketchup with the “57 Varieties” written on the bottle. And I’m looking at
that pegboard and I happen to see that number 57’s turned the wrong
way, and I realize C hew ie’s still down there!
So I got right back in the elevator, I remember Mitch, he laughed and
said, “Hey, Roy, you’re going the wrong way,” and I’m heading for the bot
tom o f Shaft Thirteen ju s t as fast as that old cage could carry me. You
remember how quick it was getting us down here, well, I sw ear it took
forever that time, w ith m e just standing there wondering w hat Chewie
thought he was doing, and rem em bering that look on his face.
I get to the bottom and it’s dark as pitch, all the lights are turned out
except for my helmet, and there’s the smell of old sweat and fresh dug-
up coal. But it’s not quiet, like you’d expect —there’s this chatter coming
from not far off, it’s the sound o f a drill going.
And I’m running towards it, yelling, “Chewie! What’s going on?” But
it’s hard to go too fast because the ceiling’s low-hung and you can’t see
your feet, just that bobbing patch o f light up ahead. I took a header a
couple o f times, skinned my knee up good but I didn’t even notice that
until later. So then I turn a com er and there’s Chewie, took m e a minute
ju st to figure out w hat h e’s doing.
Then I got it, and wished I hadn’t.
You know those w ildcat operators, they go into a mine that’s been shut
down and try to dig out whatever coal got missed last time? Well, there’s
THE B L A C K D A M P 139
som ething they do, it’s like dumb times three, th ey go up to one o f those
stone pillars holding the roof up and they try to d ig out the coal from it.
“Robbing the pillar,” that’s called, it’s the worst kind o f m ining there is,
because i f you take out too much, you’ll be w earing the roof for a hat.
A nd that’s what Chewie was doing.
“You stand back, Roy,” he says, jam m ing his drill bit into the side o f a
stone column, I swear it’s half cut through already, though it’s hard to
tell w ith all that d ust flying around in ou r h elm e t beam s. And I go
Chewie, what the hell’s this, you looking to die dow n here? A nd he says
it’s the only way to stop Old Clawfoot, says he’s going to bring this whole
place down so that murdering nightmare can go back to hell where he
belongs.
And there’s this crack from one o f the roof tim bers splitting, and dirt
starts to rain from the ceiling, there’s maybe a couple o f seconds before
the whole thing gives way. And a voice in m y h ead is saying, Leave him,
he wants to die that’s fine but you don’t have to join him. I ju st about
turned tail but something held me back, m aybe it was the time I twist
ed an ankle and Chewie drug me two miles out o f the woods, or maybe
it was the tim e Chewie lent me a hundred and nine dollars for Lucille’s
new birthday dress, or maybe you just don’t leave a buddy behind in this
dam n stinking hole if you can possibly help it, I don’t know, but I swear
I was going back for him.
Only I never made it.
Because I saw something ju st then, even through all the dust in the
light o f my helmet. You’re going to say I was seeing things or maybe the
dam p hit m e and I ju st wasn’t getting enough air, but I swear there were
tw o eyes red as hot coals coming out o f the dark at Chewie, and a big
misshapen head zippered with teeth, and two scaly paws with claws like
steak knives. And Chewie, he saw it, too, he scream ed and screamed but
he never stopped drilling.
Well, I stopped right in my tracks, thinking, It’s not there, I’m seeing
it but it’s not there, and that’s when that tim ber gave way and a column
o f rock and earth one-quarter mile high came dow n right sm ack on both
o f them, with a BOOM! like to bust my eardrums. And I’m scrambling
out o f there, thought I wasn’t going to make it but by the grace o f God
and good fortune that rockpile missed me, left m e gasping and half-
smothered in dirt and dust but somehow still alive.
Later on, a couple o f the boys, Mitch and I forget who else, they came
down after me and hauled me up topside, got D oc Stanton to look at me
and cleaned up the worst of my scrapes. And the Doc, he said I was lucky
to make it out o f there, by rights I should have been sharing my final
rest with poor old Chewie.
I never told them what I saw. I never even told Lucille, like she would
have believed it anyway. I figured it was a story that didn’t need telling,
140 TERRY BLACK
since it was all over and done with anyhow. They shut down Shaft Thir
teen, no one dug one cupful out o f Lazarus from that day forward, and
though they worked Bone Hollow for another three years and change,
you could tell it was a losing enterprise. “Economic factors,” they said,
this country was built on coal but now people wanted cleaner fuels, like
petroleum and natural gas, and coal ju st wasn’t profitable anymore.
That’s w hy they closed Bone Hollow.
Me, I know better.
W e’re a superstitious bunch, w e rockm en are, and when word got
around w hat Chewie had been saying and what became o f him, it was
hard to get good men down here. Lots o f work stoppages, absenteeism,
unplanned shutdowns. W hen they finally boarded up this place in ’76,
I’m thinking they were well rid o f it.
W hat’s that, son? No, it’s a fair question, you’re right to wonder why a
fella like me would come back down here after what I saw. By way o f an
answer, I want you to listen real close and tell me if you don’t hear what
I do: that little crunch off in the distance, like a big scaly footstep on loose
bits o f gravel? There, listen again, it’s coming closer. I knew Old Claw-
foot wouldn’t disappoint us.
No, son, it’s no joke, you’re in a deep earth mine with a crazy old fool
and one lone flashlight and an elevator that might or might not get you
back out again. See, I lied about w hat Chuck said, that old cage could
give out at any time. We were lucky to make it down here.
Well, that’s a fair question, too, I m ight as well tell you. See, I saw Doc
Stanton again this morning, my Black Lung, it’s worse than he thought,
I’ve got six months to go, tops, and I’m thinking maybe it’s time to join
up with my Lucille and Old Chewie again, though that could be a prob
lem because they may have gone to different places, if you know what I
mean. Figured I’d let Saint Pete sort it out, after Old Clawfoot’s done his
job.
I was you, son, I’d bolt like a rabbit for that elevator and pray it’s got
enough ju ice to carry you topside. D on’t wait for me, because I’m not
coming, I’m going to take this old pickaxe and stand m y ground and see
if I can’t give a good account o f myself, even now after all these years. If
you make it out, son, you tell those Sunday supplement readers how Roy
Jam es w asn’t scared o f this old mine or anything in it, least o f all a mur
dering pile o f bones and teeth and claws.
Com e on, old buddy, I’m waiting for you.
The Sw im m ers’ C lub
D. A. McGuire
he gave us our seats by Except this was Mrs. H illm an’s
S moving through the room,

tapping the back o f each
our last names. Totally random,

class, and everyone knew that Mrs.
H illm an lived by another set o f
molded plastic chair, and saying
rules and a different and more rad
ical set of expectations. No rows in
she insisted, mixing up the entire h er class. N o seating plans with
class without reference to sex, al students lined up A to Z. In her
phabetization, or any other rea room the desks bum ped each oth
sonable criteria. Groups o f three, er head-to-head, with a third desk
she said, but as there were twenty- bisecting the first two. And w hen I
three in the class, the last tw o took the desk against the far wall,
names called made up a final pair I ju st knew m y new partner, as yet
ing o f two. unnam ed to me, would take the
“Might be another added to the one opposite, thus leaving a for
class,” Mrs. Hillman, Intro to World w ard-facing desk part way b e
History, said to m e in passing. tween us.
“She’ll be with you two . . .” She And so, slumping back, tossing
gave a swift glance to the other stu her raggedy backpack on the floor,
dent assigned to sit with me. “If we a green-haired, black-eyed, scowl
get her. Have a seat.” ing girl faced me. Dressed all in
So we did, me without comment black, too: black sw eater too hot
and my new “partner” muttering, for the first day o f school, black
“Great. Look who I get to sit with.” jeans, black platform heels which
I could have said the same or she had teetered across the room
worse, but I kept my mouth shut. upon. She w as chewing gum, had
And kept it shut as all around us too much eye makeup on, as well
other groups o f kids sorted out in as too much nail polish: black nail
this aimless, pointless manner polish on thin, short fingers which
talked to one another or turned she immediately started to drum
around to find a friend, make a across the graffiti-marked desktop.
comment, shuffle book bags and She wasn’t very big, and possibly
notebooks, or otherwise get com not very bad- looking, but any nat
fortable in the world’s worst de ural appeal she m ight have had
signed furniture: student desks. w as covered up w ith too m uch
Usually the desks were arranged in makeup, too many layers o f dark
rows o f five to six across the front, clothing, and ju st too much atti
five to six going back in strictly par tude. I turned away from her as
allel lines. far as I could, folded m y arms over
141
142 D . A . M C G U IR E
my chest, and waited to see what those they’ve known since grade
this teacher had planned. school. That’s why I’ve mixed you
up. I intend that this class will
I attend M anam esset Bay Re mimic the adult world, and believe
gional High School, part o f a school me, in that world you’ll be thrown
district which brings together kids together with people from all dif
from three different towns: M ana ferent backgrounds and points o f
messet, my hometown, which sits view, which means people you
on the east side o f M anam esset might not like very much. But as an
Bay; Northport, a slightly larger adult you have to learn to accept
community ju st north o f the Man other people well enough to get a
amesset Canal Bridge; and Quini- job done. So don’t even think o f ask
cut, a smaller town directly south o f ing to change your group. The an
us. All three are Cape Cod towns, o f swer will be no.”
course, w ith popu lation s which A t that, the green-haired girl
swell in summer, then shrink back sighed and scowled at me. I ju st
down after Labor Day. N one o f the looked back at her and shrugged.
three communities are as rich as This wasn’t my fault.
Westfleet or Hyannis, or as big as “And for those who might think
Sandwich and Falm outh, so we they’d like to transfer out, let me re
don’t have our own h igh schools. mind you that Intro to World His
After finishing grade nine in the tory is a required course for all
local junior high, kids from all three sophomores. Both Mr. R ocking
towns m ove on to the regional high ham’s and Mrs. Firullo’s classes are
school, there to share the resources, full. If we get any new transfers to
more varied courses and extra-cur the school, they come into this class.
ricular activities that only a large Now, I’m going to read the roll.
facility can offer. I say all this only Please say ‘Here’ when I call your
to explain w hy I didn’t know this name.”
odd, green-haired, black-eyed girl, She had a comment to that, Miss
who was still glowering at m e like Green-hair, under her breath: “This
I was h er w orst enemy. She must sucks.”
have been a Northport o r Quinicut I said nothing, and when Mrs.
girl, and even though w e’d only met Hillman called, “Em m a Presley,”
(and it hadn’t been m e who put us Green-hair called out in a totally
together), I could tell she was less bored fashion, “Here,” then glared
than enthralled to hear that: at me some more.
“. . . you’ll be w orking together But when my name, next to last,
on in-class projects and activities.” “Herbert Sawyer,” was called, Em
Mrs. Hillman, at the front o f the ma Green-hair m uttered, “H er
room, was expounding on her class bert?” just as I said, “Here.”
philosophy. “E very six weeks
there’ll be a new seating arrange “So what kind o f a nam e is Her
ment. It’s m y belief th at students bert, anyhow?” she smirked. There
get too com fortable sitting with were about twenty minutes left to
TH E S W IM M E R S ’ C L U B 143
class. We were finishing up a sum to a group o f kids near the back o f

m er reading quiz, which Emma the room; one o f them had a hand
was snorting and sighing all the raised.
way through. Mrs, Hillman, appar B u t E m m a’s question kind o f
ently oblivious to us, was writing took m e by surprise. I glanced at
avidly on the board. Evidently my the clock; at least another fifteen
new history partner was deter minutes. All around us restless kids
mined to seize on any fault she were writing, sighing, stretching,
could find in me. I guess my name shifting in th eir uncom fortable
was good enough. plastic chairs. I knew a few o f them,
“It’s my name,” I answered. I did but n one w ere really friends. I
n’t even look up; I was writing out guessed the best I could hope for
the answer to an essay question. was that E m m a wasn’t in any o f
“Yeah,” she sneered, “but w ho my other classes.
names their kid H erbert?” She was “W h o says I’m smart?” I said.
determined to milk this for all it ‘Y ou ju st look smart.” Her eyes
was worth. It was as though she flashed up and down me. “You dress
was trying to goad me, and wanted smart.”
to make me say or do something Now, I was wearing khakis, new
she could really sink her teeth into. ones, but an old shirt, plain white,
“T he same kind o f people w ho nothing fancy. A nd black sneakers.
name their kid Emma, I guess,” I I’m not flamboyant; I don’t stand
answered. out. I’m a completely ordinary-look
“Hey, Emma’s a good name. You ing, average-sized, fifteen-year-old
ever hear o f the British actress, American kid, about five foot, sev
Emma something; you know who I en inches, with reddish-brown hair,
mean, she was married to some and an average build. Not big, not
one famous, and was in a movie small; not ugly, not a male model. I
with that guy who was in American run but don’t work out excessively
Graffiti. You know, the famous one.” and besides, I had an accident last
“John Travolta?” sum m er so the last six weeks I’d
‘Y ou stupid jerk,” she said back. been pretty lethargic, nursing a
Mrs. H illm an turned from the broken right arm, and a left one
board and frowned at the class. As with a h airlin e fracture. To be
soon as her back was turned again, blunt, I was kind o f out o f shape.
Em m a Green-hair said: “Emma Hanging around the house and let
Thompson, and she was never mar ting m y m other wait on me had
ried to John Travolta.” put a few pounds on and I was anx
“W ho said she was?” I replied. I ious to w ork it off, was even think
put my pen down with a slam and ing o f going out for soccer. So for
Mrs. Hillman turned around again. this ghoulish-looking girl to say I
This was going to be a long six “looked smart,” well, it just didn’t
weeks. figure.
‘Y ou’re smart, aren’t you?” E m “I’m not smart.” I reached down
ma asked. Mrs. Hillman had moved to grab the histoiy book I’d tucked
144 D . A . M C G U IR E
on the metal shelf under m y seat. mael.” I’d force it down later; I w as
A s I did— big mistake— I winced. n’t one to shirk an assignment, no
“H e y ...” Instantly the attitude in m atter how disinterested I was,
h er voice was gone. She alm ost ju s t that the sinking sun in the
sounded concerned: “You okay?” west, brushing the trees ou t on
“I’m fine.” N ow m y tu rn to be Smiley’s Island was vastly m ore
cool. I turned around in the seat as appealing. . .
Mrs. Hillman announced w here to Kind o f For it had been out there
bring the finished quizzes, then she on the island where I’d had a little
gave us a reading assignm ent. I accident: broken one arm, hurt the
didn’t talk to Emma for the rest o f other. I shoved the book back into
the class. m y backpack and wished I’d
stopped on the way for burgers, a
After school I took a w alk along sandwich, anything. My only op
the canal, watched a luxury liner, tion seemed to be to go home, face
then a flat-bottomed barge make my uncertainly moody mother, and
their way through. A few tourists hope that Jake had stopped in. On
w ere still about, cameras hanging ly around Jake Valari did she ever
around their necks. T h e license seem to be in anything close to a
plates in the parking lot read On good mood.
tario, New Brunswick, N ew York, Jake Valari, a detective on Man-
and Maine. The wind w as cool and amesset’s rather small police force,
brisk off the canal, and as I stood was my mother’s latest love inter
and watched, the elevated train est, though theirs had been an on-
bridge cranked its way to the bot again, off-again relationship from
tom . I found a concrete bench, the start. Truth was, my m other
parked m yself on it, and started in was miserable without Jake, but
on a reading assignment. sometimes not much happier when
N ot that I didn’t w a n t to go they were together. “Don’t w ant to
home, though home had been a less be a cop’s wife,” she’d told m e one
th an peaceful place lately. M y night after supper, then she’d burst
m other’s love life, rocky the last into tears and dropped a casserole
four years, was smooth sailing at dish—macaroni and cheese and
last. Still, she and I seem ed to ar all— into the sink, breaking it.
gue over everything and anything. Okay, I’ll tell the truth here, or
I didn’t seem to do anything right. what I know about it. Fact is, my
Forgot to take out the trash. Forgot mother’s distress didn’t arise only
to pay the paper boy. Forgot to walk from her up-and-down relationship
Mrs. Miller’s smelly dachshund, as with the only guy in recent history
promised. Maybe since m y mother who treated her with any respect.
w as going on forty, she was It also came from me. I had a pen
menopausal or something. chant, is the best way I can put it,
So I stretched out m y legs, tried for getting in and out o f sticky sit
to get into M oby-Dick, and lost it a uations. So for my mother’s sake I
few short words after, “Call me Ish- was determined to have a perfect
T H E S W IM M E R S ’ C L U B 145
ly normal, perfectly ordinary sopho houses or other buildings on it; it

more year. I was going to do my was privately owned. The theory
homework, get good grades, help going around school was that the
around the house, be polite and at fires were being set to discourage
tentive to my mother, and general the seals, which had taken up tem
ly keep out o f trouble. porary residence on a few o f the
No more girls. Girls were always outer, sm aller islands. Apparently
bad news. Three girlfriends in a some o f the local fishermen weren’t
mere two years and nothing but too thrilled by “competition” for the
trouble from any o f them. So may dwindling fishing stocks, and with
be it was a good idea I had to work even more government fishing re
with Miss Emma Green-hair; no strictions being suggested, it was
way I’d ever get involved with felt that i f the seals were forced to
something like that. Yes, for sure, go elsewhere, so much the better for
m y life was going to be school, the fishermen who were struggling
sports, work. To bed early, up in the to stay in business. That’s what
morning early as well, and if I had they reasoned, even though the
any spare time, well then, I’d . . . seals w ere few in number, and
Go to church, maybe. Join a probably would eventually return
church soccer league. Play basket north from where they’d come.
ball later in the year when my But I didn’t get involved too
arms were fully healed. Keep my much in the conversation. I kept to
nose dean, in other words, and if myself, sharing a table at lunch
anything unusual or strange was with my tw o closest friends, Covey
going down anywhere in my im and Remy, whose chief interests re
mediate vicinity, look the other way. volve around girls, rock music, and
Yeah, that’s right, turn around and more girls. So as they chattered
walk. away about some good-looking se
Such are the well-intentioned nior girl w ho m ight— or m ight
promises we always make to our not— have given Covey a come-on
selves. stare during gym class (I voted for
not), I w orked on m y geom etry
I’d heard about the fires; every homework, then tried to squeeze
one in town had. It came up the in five m ore minutes o f M oby-Dick.
next day during those few minutes I was still getting hung up on: “Call
at the start o f every class when ev m e ...”
eryone’s pulling assignments out “Hey, there’s no room anywhere
o f book bags—or just looking for else.”
them. It seems that someone was A familiar voice; I looked up, star
building bonfires on Black Oak Is tled to see Miss Green-hair stand
land, one o f the outer bay islands ing there with a tray in her hands.
that fringed the edge o f Manames- Immediately both Covey and Remy
set Bay. It was a good-sized island, were sliding over, m aking room be
with a decent stand o f trees on it tween them. So she had green hair;
and an old crumbling dock, but no so she w as dressed completely in
146 D . A . M C G U IR E
black again; so she was wearing or even in my two friends, who were
black lipstick and had even inked leaning forward, arms folded on the
h er thick eyebrows with black lin table in the manner o f all adoles
er. She was alive, she w as breath cents eager to make a connection—
ing, and she was a girl. B u t she was o f any kind— with the opposite sex.
ignoring the tw o o f them. She was “I got to go,” I said, standing up,
ta lk in g to me. She slid into the balancing books, lunch, a half-eat
ben ch opposite me, ban gin g her en creamsicle.
tray down heavily. “Before you go,” she said, stop
“Don’t think I looked for you,” she ping me and grabbing a paper from
said w ith an exaggerated sigh. her backpack. She slapped the pa
“T h is is the only place left.” She per on top o f my books. “SOS. If
looked past m e with a rather bored you’re interested, or if you’re the
expression on her face. “You might kind who cares. After school. Room
be smart, but you’re not the most 118.” Then she sat h e rse lf back
popular kid in this school, are you?” down and turned to my friends.
“Guess not,” was all I could think
to say as m y tw o friends snick SOS. Save Our Seals. Sponsored
ered— one on either side o f her. by the Environmental Club. But I
“Suppose you all heard about the had better things to do so I crum
seals out in the bay,” she said, sink pled the leaflet into a ball and made
ing a fork into an unappetizing mix a perfect drop— from about twelve
o f macaroni, dried-up b e e f the col feet— into the science room trash
or o f chimney soot, and wrinkled- bin.
looking green peppers: ch efs spe Then, after school, and because I
cial, American chop suey. I’d opted thought I should (and not because
for a creamsicle and a b ag o f chips. I wanted to avoid my mother and
“I think they should ju st go out and her changing day-to-day m oodi
shoot them all.” ness), I hiked on over to an old
A t this, Remy and Covey giggled. friend’s house to check up on him.
I could almost read th eir minds: Mr. Elmer H om ton had had an ac
This was some girl! cident about a year ago, one from
“H ey look,” I said, shutting the which he was still recovering. He’d
novel on my hand, “I don’t think been through a long hospital stay,
killing the seals is the right answer. then rehab, and was finally able to
T h ey’re probably ju st temporary return home with a little in-house
visitors; it’s rare to see any this far health care. In a word, he was do
south and— ” ing better, and since I hadn’t
She cut me off: “I m ean the jerks dropped in for a few days, I figured
w h o’re setting the fires, you idiot. it was time.
Boy, you aren ’t as sm art as I Only problem was, he had com
thought.” She looked over at my pany, so ju st as soon as I’d knocked
friends. “Him and me, history part on the door (and before I figured out
ners. Lucky me, right?” that the gray sedan in the driveway
I wasn’t interested in this, in her, didn’t belong to a health-care work
TH E S W I M M E R S ’ C L U B 147
er), a woman answered it. Now, I Oak, a property that has been in
don’t like to bother Mr. Homton if my fam ily for over five gen era
he’s got company. He may be over tions. There is a good stand o f for
seventy, as stubborn as an old mule, est still on the island, m ainly oak,
and a lifelong bachelor, but I wasn’t o f course, and I should hate to lose
one to intrude on anyone’s person it.” H er sharp, dark eyes fell on
al life, excepting my mother’s, o f Elm er, w h o was b ein g p retty
course. Still, this woman was no close-m ou th ed th rou ghou t this
man’s idea o f a dream date, be he whole conversation. “So yes, check
seventeen— or seventy-seven. it out. Look around. Lord knows,
She was tall and dark, w ith I’ve had the fire departm ent out
brooding eyes and white hair plas there, and the police, and so m any
tered over a long, bony forehead. state and local officials your head
She’d never been attractive, not a w ould spin to hear about it. The
day in her life. Dressed in a plain, fires have all been put out, by the
drab, black suit, she stared down at tides for the most part, but every
m e and said: one I talk to claim s the m atter
“You’re him, aren’t you? Herbert com es under someone else’s au
Sawyer. Just who I was looking for.” thority. Truth is, no one seem s to
A nd then, before I could recover k n ow w hose jurisdiction the is
from that, she added, “I think I lan d falls under. N o one even
have a job for you.” knows w hat town the island is in.
M y deed says M anam esset, but
“So you want me . . . ” I looked the tow n officials say it’s in Quini-
over at a cheerful Elmer Homton, cut.”
sitting there at his kitchen table, I looked over at Elmer helpless
cribbage board between him and ly. “But I’m not a detective, I’m ju st
Miss Etta Bailey, to whom I’d ju st a kid.”
been introduced. I looked back at She sat back, eyed m e with one
the woman, who hadn’t missed a bony finger poised against her lips.
trick, or point, as she soundly beat “Perhaps what I am asking for is an
Elmer, now three games in a row, im partial point o f view. I need
“to go out to Black Oak Island and someone to tell me what they see. A
check things out?” person can take all the photo
“I have heard,” she said, gath graphs they want, or movies, what
erin g up the cards in a pair o f ever, and still not get a totally ac
bony, gnarled hands to shuffle curate im pression o f a place, or
them. “That you are both perspi w hat’s going on in a place. I need, I
cacious ... and discreet.” She eyed guess, to hire not just you, Herbert,
m e from under heavy, grayish- but your instincts. Someone is set
white bangs. “Not to mention re ting fires on my island; I need to
sourceful. It’s a paying job, you n g know why.”
man; I will give you five dollars an I looked at Elmer, who was ju st
hour for your time and your trou sitting there and grinning for all
ble. They’re setting fires on B lack the world like a Cheshire cat. M ay
148 D . A . M C G U IR E
be he saw this as an easy way for out early, before high tide, see what
me to make a few bucks; maybe I can find.”
he ju st wanted to get h er off his
back. Problem is, not everything works
“To keep the seals away?” I said. out so simple as it either looks or
“There h av en ’t been seals on sounds. It was still early Septem
B lack Oak in over a h u n dred ber, still nice, mild weather, so I
years,” she argued back forceful figured I’d take my boat out— a
ly- nice little wooden runabout I’d
“You just want me to go out, take been given as a thank-you for a fa
a look around and . . . report back? vor I’d done this sum m er— early
That’s it?” I still wasn’t sure o f what enough in the m orning to get
I was being asked to do. things done, which would leave me
‘Yes. That’s it.” the rest o f the day to do w hat I
wanted. Yeah, a quick zip to the is
As I was leaving, Mr. H om ton land and back wouldn’t take more
took me aside and said: “Think o f it than a couple o f hours. Figuring
as a favor for me, H erbie, even another hour or so to walk around
though I know that ups the ante the island and look things over, I’d
between you and me. I owe you, be back by lunch.
boy, and don’t think I don’t know Not that I had any idea what I
that.” He laid his hand heavily on could “report back” to Miss Bailey
m y shoulder. that a detective or arson expert
“Owe me? W hat for?” I shot back. couldn’t. It almost seemed to me
“Just because I take out your trash, that maybe Mr. H om ton was get
and shoveled you r d rive all last ting senile or something, and had
winter, and checked on your house, built me up to be something I was
and brought you your mail, and wa n’t in Miss Bailey’s eyes. He had
tered your plants, and p ut in your suffered some brain damage from
vegetable garden, and .. his accident a year ago, so maybe
His fingers squeezed hard, trem his perspective on things had
bling a little as they did. ‘Y ou think changed. Maybe he forgot I was just
I don’t know what you’ve done? I an ordinary kid w ho occasionally
wouldn’t be here now if you, your had the bad luck to get caught up
mother, and Jake hadn’t come to in things that were far from ordi
the hospital every day. Damn it boy, nary.
you three are the on ly fam ily I Anyhow, when I got to the river
have.” Then his eyes teared up a lit where I keep my boat moored, I
tle, which I hated to see because it found I had a problem. The engine
embarrassed him more than me, wouldn’t turn over. So there I was,
so as he wiped them and turned to had a paying job to do, which I’d
watch Miss Bailey back out o f his said I’d do, but no way to do it. Mr.
driveway, I said: Homton had a boat, true, but it had
“I got nothing better to do any been dry-docked since his accident.
how. Tomorrow’s Saturday. I’ll go The only other person I knew who
had a boat— and who was probably “She likes me,” Covey said, his
also up at seven in the morning— entire face one huge, almost mo
was m y friend Covey. ronic smile, and then as though I
h adn ’t h eard him right, he said
“If you want me to do this,” Cov again, “S h e likes me.” And she’s a
ey had announced, one donut in girl and that’s about all it takes, I
hand and half o f another one stuffed guess.
in his mouth, “you got to cut me in, Well, it w as Covey’s boat, a small
fifty-fifty, and she comes, too.” but trim bayliner, thirty foot in
Covey lived fairly close to the riv length, and Covey’s call, so I took a
er; it had been five minutes to jaunt seat on the bench out on the aft
over there and find him home— deck, spread my arms out, and just
and entertaining a new friend. sat there while Covey took us out to
“Look, Covey, this is serious,” I Black Oak. I wasn’t happy; I wasn’t
insisted, trying to ignore the pres even rem otely pleased that Emma
ence o f his new friend, who believe G reen-hair had not only: one,
it or not, was Miss Emma Green- hooked up with my best friend, but
hair. 1 had tried to conceal my two: w as with us on our way to
shock, disgust, and dismay at find Black Oak. This should have been
ing her with Covey; I was doing a a guy thing— a totally, one hundred
poor job at all three. I turned back percent, ju st me alone or me and
to Covey. “This woman has en Covey, guy thing. I didn’t like the
trusted me with a real important way she looked at me, her painted
job. You can’t just have anyone tag lips curled up in a sneer, or the way
along with us.” sh e...
O f course, that just made Green- Well, the way she even rode in
hair fume and sputter; her com the boat, because as Covey let it lip
ments to me were pretty bad, and and boosted the little craft up to 10
unprintable hero. Covey, on the oth knots, then 15, then 20— which was
er hand, was his usual complacent really pushing it out here— Emma
self: “No Emma, no Covey. No Cov sidled right up against him, her
ey, no boat.” Then he smashed the hands on his waist. Between the
second donut into his face. roar of the engine and the slap-slap
o f the hu ll against the water, I
“What an amazing coincidence;,” couldn’t hear a word they were say
Emma told me snidely. “We were ing to one another, and was glad o f
going out there, too, as representa it, too. T h ey w ere laughing and
tives o f SOS, to set* what's going talking, and occasionally Miss
on.” Never in my life had l wanted G reen-hair would sneak a look
to push a girl off a boat so much. 1 back at m e over her shoulder and
ignored her, went up to the wheel, just grin. She w as upsetting me;
and stood near Covey. she knew it, and she loved it.
“W hat the hell are you doing And I hated it, especially when
with her?” I asked him. “What, you she shoved her hands down inside
met her like, three days ago?” Covey’s pockets and leaned against
150 D . A . M C G U IR E
him, h er head on his back. He was seemed to be: fires placed along the
taking the boat so hard now, and so beach to deter the seals— if there
fast, that every few seconds a spray were indeed any seals— from com
o f water would come in from the ing up on shore and deciding to add
port side. She was pretending to the outer bay islands to their range.
scream and hate it. But I knew . . . We’d already walked past two piles
I knew that the only real reason o f debris and now were approach
she was hugged up against Covey ing a third. Covey had run out
so tightly was to upset m e by being ahead of us.
hugged up against Covey so tight “Your best friend has a girlfriend,
ly. Not that I cared. W hy should I and you don’t,” she said to me sar
care? She in her tight black sweater castically.
and black windbreaker and black ‘You? You just met him, what,
shorts and black sneakers, and . . . two days ago?”
Her green hair, which when the “True love knows no time limit,”
wind w hipped back through it, she replied, snickering and suck
looked brown underneath, no ing on a lollipop she’d pulled out o f
blonde. M aybe it was the light. the backpack swung over her
Maybe it was a golden-brown. Any shoulder.
how, that didn’t matter; she was She was such a . . . well, I can’t
doing all this ju st to tick m e off. Not say the word here, but I suppose it
Covey, though, poor sap; he was in takes little imagination to figure
nocent as a lamb in all this and what I wanted to say. Then, just
had absolutely no idea that Emma when I figured she couldn’t irritate
Green-hair Presley was doing all me more, she did:
this ju st to . . . ‘Y ou’ve probably never even had
Yes, like I said: just to tick me o ff a girlfriend, right?”
And it was working. I stopped, right there in the sand,
with the water licking my sneak
“You’re ju st jealous, aren’t you, ers; we had arrived on the incoming
Sawyer?” she had the nerve to ask tide. “I’ve had three.”
as we walked toward a pile o f black ‘T h ree?” she jeered. “W ho you
ened driftwood, dead branches, and kidding, Sawyer?”
old wooden planks that were prob “The first was moved by her fa
ably tom from the dilapidated dock ther to a private school, out o f state,
we’d ju st tied up to. because o f me. The second is living
“Jealous— o f what?” I asked. I in a foster home somewhere on the
hadn’t seen anything that I could Cape, where I don’t know, and I’m
possibly report back to Miss Bailey. not allowed to know. A nd that’s
A fire w as a fire, and these had partly because o f me. And the third
been extinguished by, o f all things,
the encroaching tides. Som eone She was ju st staring at me, the
had placed them— at low tide, ju st wind whipping up her green hair,
below the high-tide m ark. Th ey her mouth hanging open, lollipop
w ere probably ju st w h a t they stuck in it.
TH E S W IM M E R S ’ C L U B 151
“Well, she tried to kill me.” I supposed to do; I also knew w hat I
shoved my hands into my pockets wanted to do.
and then headed up to where C ov “I w asn’t talking about Covey,
ey had stopped. For some reason— you stupid jerk ,” she said; she
and Covey can be real dramatic stepped back and away as a small
when he wants to be— he w as cloud of black flies rose from the
shouting and waving his hands body, “I was talking a b o u t. . . that’s
over his head. I guess he’d found a body, isn’t it? A man?” Then her
something interesting. whole face contorted as she took
another step back. “W hat do you
So here 1 am, supposedly doing mean it’s his . . . first body? Like it
some investigative or scouting isn’t you rs?”
work, a paid job, and I’m standing What did I say to her, that bad as
there without a cam era, a cell this was, this wasn’t m y first, or
phone, or even a stupid notebook to my second? That wasn’t important
jot things down in. I made a pretty now. W hat was, was that this man
lousy detective and I decided then looked like he had died a real mean
and there— as I looked down at death. H e was burned up pretty
what Covey had found— to refuse bad, skin a charcoal gray color—
any money Mrs. Bailey tried to give that is, w hat was left o f it. His face
me. Still, even I was shocked, and was clenched in a tight grimace,
surprised, and a little disgusted as teeth pulled back against black
Em m a hurried to join me and ened lips, but that was probably
looked down at the body lying in just due to muscles shrinking from
the pile o f ashes. the heat. His arms and wrists were
“Oh, my God,” she muttered, pulled tight, too, his fists curled in
then looked up the beach toward to tight knots like he wanted to
the thin line o f oaks Covey had take a poke at someone. Pugilistic
rushed off to. We could both hear stance, I think I heard Jake call it.
retching in the woods. “Is th a t. . . it He was dressed in jea n s that,
can’t be? Is it?” maybe because they had been wet
Give her credit; she had a pretty when someone had tried to b u m
strong stomach. him up, were pretty much intact.
“Yeah, it is. Covey’s sick, but h e’ll His jersey, though, a plain knit
be okay. This is his first dead body.” item, probably polyester, had half-
“His fir s t. . . ” She looked at me, melted, half-burned to his upper
and for a moment I thought she torso. He also had what looked like
was going to go gray, too, and start a tie around his neck, which m ade
heaving up on me. I would imagine no sense; the guy was dressed ca
it wouldn’t be a very pretty sight. sually. In fact, the way the tie was
Besides, I had to get her and him knotted was sort o f weird; it was
out o f here, contact the police, mostly burned away except for a
make sure we didn’t touch a n y few threads, and w here it was
thing . . . loosely tied around his neck, it
So yeah, I knew what we were made kind o f a large bow. About
152 D . A . M C G U IR E
four inches o f one end, the thinner ing up the beach toward the pile.
end, was intact. There was a little High tide was 8:37 AM. It was just
bit o f rockweed lying on him, a bit after eight now.
o f charred driftwood, a few small Without a word she swung her
planks o f wood. I looked at Emma. backpack to the sand and, opening
“Well, no, I mean . . . ” I quickly it, pulled out a small, cheap, dis
lied; she was too upset. “Saw a dead posable cam era and a black cell
dog once, by the side o f the road phone. She handed both to me.
and...” “There’s . . . maybe three or four
“This is a human being, you jerk!” shots left. But you’re sick, you know
She cam e at me, hitting m e on the that.”
arm. “Oh, my God, and . . .” She “This guy’s going to be covered by
looked at me, then she looked at water in less than an hour. It’s for
the corpse, then at me again. “Her the police.”
bie, I think I know him . Oh, my She swung the backpack up on
God, yes. Yes, it’s Mr. Davies. I’m her shoulder and tromped off in the
pretty sure o f it. Mr. Davies?” She direction o f the woods. Y o u ’re just
looked at me; she looked at him. I sick.”
looked up as a pair o f crows went
screaming by. “He taught at my old “Thought I was sick,” I said as
junior high.” she joined m e on the cedar log up
“H ow do you know it’s him ?” above the tidal rack. The cops had
“That stupid paisley tie. He wore just finished talking to her; they’d
a paisley tie every day. H e must done me a few minutes earlier.
have had a hundred different pais Y ou are. I don’t like you at all.
ley ties. I’m not kidding; h e was ob This whole thing is j u s t . . . sick.”
sessed with paisley. H e even had a She turned to glare at me, then
couple o f paisley suit jackets and stared dow n at the small group
his car, the interior was . . .” She hovering around the body o f her
took a deep breath and stepped old social studies teacher. “And
back like she was going to be sick. what did he mean when he said,
“H e was m y seventh and eighth You again?’ That guy in the green
grade teacher, social studies. Oh, cap?” She pointed out the county
my God.” medical examiner, now standing in
‘Y eah, look, we’ve got to get Cov ankle-deep water and scratching
ey, a n d ... call the police. W hy don’t his head.
you go get him, and I’l l . . . Damn, “I . . . came across another dead
wish I had a cell phone or some person a while back. It’s not im
thing, or a camera.” portant.” I still had her cell phone,
“Cam era?” She was even more had used it to call the Manamesset
appalled. Police Department, my house, Cov
‘Yeah, because by the time I get ey’s house, and Jake Valari. I had
the police out here, well, the tide’s also called my mother, told her not
almost in and . . . ” I pointed out to to expect m e for lunch.
where the water was slowly creep “Not important? What, are you
ju st unlucky?” she asked. Her face what rem ained o f it, a few tipped
w as kind o f screwed up like she pilings, som e boards w hich ju s t
was looking at the most disgusting m anaged to hold them selves to
thing she’d ever seen, and it wasn’t gether. C ovey’s uncle and father
Mr. Davies. had just com e up to get him, and
“W hat do you know about him?” taken off after we convinced them
I asked. “Mr. Davies, I mean.” that the police would “need us” in
“H e was my teacher,” she said, case a statement had to be made.
newly appalled by me. “I have no Truth is, I’d told Emma to take
idea w hat he’s doing out here— off, too, b u t when she’d insisted on
dead.” And then, “W hy did you staying— and the police h ad n ’t
w an t to take those pictures? m uch ca red whether she did or
T h ou gh t you were going to give not— I didn’t put up a protest. I’d
them to the police.” She looked at been through this before; after giv
me closely. ing the police my name and gener
A s it turned out, the police got al details— like what we were doing
here far quicker than I thought out h ere-—I’d been asked to hang
they would, a whole boatload o f around. T h is meant several hours
them, both from Manamesset and o f waiting until someone was suffi
Quinicut, and the harbor police, ciently interested to question me
and a Coast Guard cruiser, too, some more, the innocent bystander
w hich was anchored about forty who had found the body. So the fact
yards out in the peaceful waters o f that she w as willing to stay, well, I
Manamesset Bay. I guess a dead almost liked her company. Either
body lying on a beach on a bonfire that, or I liked the fact that she
has a whole strange, morbid allure hadn’t acted like the typical teen
o f its own. age girl by overreacting in response
“They got here pretty fast,” I told to finding a corpse. In fact, once she
her. “They won’t need these.” I got over h er disgust— which was
tapped my jacket pocket, which is mainly aim ed at me— she almost
where I had stowed her camera be seem ed interested in w hat was
fore the police arrived. happening.
“M y camera.” “W hy’s he all twisted up like
“M y photographs. I’ll develop that— I mean, his body. He looks
them and give you yours; the rest like . . . like he was fighting, or I
are mine.” mean, his hands.”
“I can tell them now you took pic “H appen s when a body burns
tures.” sometimes. The muscles shrink in
“If you do, you’ll never get your the heat, makes him look like a
cam era or your pictures back,” I boxer. W h at was he like, Em m a?
warned her. “W hat’s on the film, Did people like him, not like him?
anyhow? You and Covey getting all Did he have enemies?”
lovey-dovey?” “I liked him,” she said in a sort o f
“Poor Covey.” She looked o ff in distracted way. “I think I did. I used
the direction o f the little dock, or to file papers for him after school.”
154 D . A . M cG U IR E
“File papers?” talked. They didn’t like him, I don’t

“Yeah, you know w hat I mean?” think, not unless your kid was a
She eyed me strangely; evidently I swimmer, then boy, Mr. Davies
wasn’t adequately clued in. “Mr. could do no wrong.”
Davies was a nice guy and all, but “Mostly teachers? In the Swim
he didn’t teach much. You know, he mers’ Club.”
talked a lot. About sports, about his “Yeah, and some kids, but not ju
team— he was assistant coach o f nior high kids, at least I don’t . ..”
the county swim team. I mean, we She bit her lip and hung her head,
could get him off on a tangent and green hair swinging in her face.
he’d forget all about teaching his “Older kids, like ones he knew from
tory, or geography; I had him for before. High school, or college, or
both subjects.” She gave an student teachers. Most people real
offhanded shrug. “We all thought it ly liked him, I guess.”
was funny back then. H e was so “Someone didn’t like him,” I com
easy. Gave A’s like nothing, because mented, nodding down to the beach
we mostly did nothing. Then when where a police officer was now look
we had to take those stupid state ing up at us. Apparently someone
tests, whoa, I knew nothing. Any had remembered we were still
how, I filed for him, w hich means I here, patiently waiting.
was maybe . . . a pet o f his, kind of, But if I’d thought w e were im
but he had a lot o f them. I correct portant enough for som eone to
ed papers, is what Fm trying to say, w an t more from us, then I was
the few he gave. H e w a s one o f wrong. In fact, when the man lum
those teachers that talks and talks bered up to talk to us, all he said
and talks, but he doesn’t do much. was: “Nothing more you kids can do
H e had kids do his correcting and here. Harbor patrol will take you
stuff. M y whole second term grade home.”
in eighth grade was based on a sin
gle project I did on the Panama Ca Going home wasn’t easy. I’d been
nal. I don’t think he even read it; through this before and I promised
just looked at my poster and gave myself— I swore— I wouldn’t bring
me an A.” any of this home. This was not m y
“So kids liked him.” affair, and despite the fact I’d been
“Yeah, because he talked sports, asked to check out the fires, that is
or about the Swimmers’ Club. His all I had been asked to do. If the po
two passions, I guess.” lice came with questions, okay, I’d
“Swimmers’ Club.” answer them. I did call Miss Bailey,
“Yeah, a group o f teachers, most gave her m y report, meager as it
ly, that got together and hung out. was; of course, I left out the part
They went to every swim meet and about Mr. Davies. Still, when she
. . . well, on Fridays, they went out thanked me and offered to send me
after school and got drunk togeth a check in the mail, I told her to for
er. N ot that he told us that, but we get it. As for the rest, well, Emma
knew ; we heard. O u r parents had told the police who she thought
the body was and that was that. which was around eight fifteen last
Let the police sort everything out. night. B ut the body stayed put,
And that’s exactly what I told a pretty much; a couple m ore ins and
somber Jake as he and I sat at my outs o f the tide and he’d be gone,
kitchen table later that evening. maybe. M aybe someone thought,
My m other was out on the front bum him up, wash him out to sea,
porch doing needlepoint and watch but why not ju st weigh him down,
ing a documentary on the Discov drop him somewhere in the bay?
ery Channel. About seals, I think, or Confusing.”
maybe it was sea lions. “I’ll say.”
“It’s the only way to look at it,” “Look, because I’m interested
Jake agreed; surprisingly, he had doesn’t m ean I’m going to be in
no lecture for me that night, noth volved. I’m normal, curious; I can’t
ing about minding my own busi help that. She’s got to know that,
ness and staying out o f the police’s Jake, at som e point, she’s got to
way, and so on, and so on. We had understand. I’m goin g to think
ju st finished a wonderful late sup about it, and try to figure it out,
per o f steamers and stuffed qua- and follow it in the paper, but I am
hogs, grilled corn-on-the-cob and not going to . . . do anything else.”
Jake’s special peach cobbler. It had I sighed h eavily; I’d eaten too
been a treat to have him with us much. I glanced at Jake’s huge, ro
and even my mother— despite the tund belly, then at the peach cob
news o f the day—had seemed calm, bler, and decided against a third
relaxed, and very happy. helping.
“I mean, she knows . . . ” I said, “A couple o f things you need to
dropping my voice; I glanced across know about your mother.” Jake
the living room in the direction o f leaned across the sm all, narrow
the porch, “that it’s happened, that wooden table toward me. “She loves
I . . . but I swear, Jake, I don’t even you. She’s proud o f you. She’s also
care why this guy was out there, or scared for you. You’re not a bad kid,
how he got out there, or what hap not a daredevil, risk-taker, none o f
pened to him. I don’t.” that, but you are . . . w hat’s the
“Found a tie around his neck, word? When it comes to a puzzle, or
part o f it was unbumed, big knot in a crime, tireless? No, you are— and
the back.” it’s a big word— indefatigable. You
“God-awful paisley,” I said, try might not get involved in this and
ing to be offhanded about it. “Prob I don’t want you to, but I can’t con
ably he was strangled, then trol w hat you’re tossing and turn
burned.” ing around in you r head. She’s
Jake just nodded, took a sip o f afraid— because you can’t turn it
coffee. off She told m e the other night that
“And there was stu ff on him , what she feared most is that you’d
some driftwood, seaweed, some become a cop.”
planking from the dock. It probably “Like you?” I wanted to laugh.
washed over him w ith the tide, “A nice safe job is what she wants
156 D . A . M C G U IR E
for you. She lost your father; she David Davies, w ho passed away
doesn’t want to lose you.” this weekend. W hen announce
I started to rise; this whole con ments are over, anyone who needs
versation was bugging me. “Til try to see or speak to a counselor has
not to get leukemia.” permission to report to Guidance.”
He lunged out an arm, grabbed Well, there were Quinicut kids
hold o f me. “That’s a rotten thing to in that class, which was Spanish. A
say, even to me.” little explanation is needed here: I
“I got to read M oby-D ick,” I told take third-year Spanish, having
him, and then: “I’m sorry.” completed two years in my old ju
nior high; but some kids start
“M iss M cGifford,” E m m a mut Spanish in Grade Nine, or even
tered under her breath. Grade Ten. This means we have a
“W h at?” I was not in a good handful o f juniors and seniors in
mood. M onday morning, and we the class, and one o f the seniors
were getting ready to do a stupid was a big kid named Jim Reid.
bonding activity in history class, so W hen that announcem ent was
we “would learn to know each oth read, Jim gave a kind o f snort, and
er better.” I m ean, w h at makes put his head down onto his arms on
teachers think we want to get to the desk. No one bothered him; no
know each other better? Just give one said anything, but when the
us our w ork and let us go to it! announcements were finally over
We’re talking about fifteen- and six- and a few kids, I guess from Quini
teen-year-old kids, for crying out cut, rose to leave the room to go to
loud! Guidance, Jim didn’t move. One of
Plus, two other incidents already the kids stopped to speak to him:
had me on edge. When I got to Pe “Hey, Jim, you coming?”
riod O ne/H om eroom class this “What for?” he’d snapped, rearing
m orning, one o f the kids who’d up. ‘You think I care the jerk is
heard about my discovery— I dead?”
m ean, w ho hadn’t? O ur names, Now that the Spanish teacher
C ovey’s, Emma's, and mine, had did quash. “Mr. Reid! I can’t believe
been in all the local and big-city pa you just said that!”
pers; only the local cable news sta Jim m uttered an apology,
tion had had the decency to call us dropped his head back to his arms,
“three local teenagers’”— had called and that’s pretty much how he’d
out to me: “Hey, Sawyer, what the stayed the remainder o f the class.
heck are you? You trip over bodies Yeah, so I had two things on my
everywhere you go. W hat are you, mind when Emma spoke to me.
the ‘Death Kid,’ or something?” “Miss McGifford, seventh grade
O f course, the teacher tried to science; she was in the Swimmers’
quash that, but she was cut off by Club, too. Probably not important,
m orning announcements over the but I was tiying to remember. Mr.
intercom: “During today’s moment Davies talked about it a lot when I
o f silence, let’s all think about Mr. was in seventh grade, but then not
TH E S W IM M E R S ’ C LU B 157
so much in eighth grade, and I don’t mean, I know what happened on

know about ninth.” Saturday. It must have been aw
“What are you getting at?” I mut ful. Do you need to leave the room,
tered as an assignment was hand or . . . ” She put her hand down on
ed to us. “And who cares?” the bonding sheet we w ere sup
“l is t e n . . . ” She had the nerve to posed to com plete. A lready kids
move up against me; who did she were circulating around the room
think I was, Covey? “There were finding someone w ho “loved choco
five or six o f them. Were. When I late ice cream ” or who could “do a
was a seventh grader, two of them handstand.”
died in a car crash. Do you remem ‘Yes,” Em m a said quickly. “I need
ber? Two teachers who drove o ff a t o .. .just step outside for a minute,
bridge?” if you don’t mind, Mrs. Hillman.”
I did remember: “Coming back “Go right ahead, dear,” the teach
from a swim . . . meet. They were er said. “H erbie?’
drunk.” ‘Yeah, m e too, I guess,” I said.
“Yeah, and then in eighth grade,
another died, a phys. ed teacher “I’ve asked around,” Em m a said,
who had retired; I forget his name. leaning against a locker there in
He’d taken some sleeping pills, I the hall, hands behind her. “I know
think, with a lot o f vodka. I re that y o u . . . you’ve helped the cops,
m em ber Mr. Davies rem arking sometimes. You have a reputation.”
that there were only a few leff in “Small reputation,” I corrected
his old club. Then he never talked her. “Or I’m just damn unlucky. Lis
about it much anymore.” ten, Emma, I’m sorry he’s dead, but
‘Yeah, well, if there’s anything to I can’t do a thing about it. The cops
it, the police will dig it up.” arc more than competent, and . . . ”
“W hy would they? How would I shook m y head because I saw the
they know? I mean, if there is any signs; she was too eager to play
thing to it? It wasn’t a formal tiling, Miss Junior Detective— with me.
Sawyer, just a bunch o f teachers “Okay, but it’s weird, you got to
hanging out, drinking, carousing, I admit it. There were six o f them,
guess. There was a picture of them now there’s only two, 1 think. I
in my yearbook, Grade 7, a candid mean teachers: the kids came and
someone took at a meet.” She went, b u t ... he was upset when the
looked me up and down very care last one died, two years ago. I re
fully; she didn’t look so black, nor so member he made us watch videos
ginm today. She still had too much all week. I mean, Mr. Davies was a
dour, dark makeup on, but she was lazy teacher, but he talked every
wearing normal blue jeans and an day; we did do . . . some stuff. He
ordinary white sweatshirt. “You wasn’t a video teacher, is what I’m
want to come over and . . . look at saying, because then the stage be
it?” longed to someone else. He wanted
“You two all right?’ Mrs. Hillman it all for himself.”
asked us suddenly and abruptly. “I I just looked at her then, won
158 D . A . M C G U IR E
dering how it w as th at a black berant spirit will be sorely missed

lipped, green-haired girl could be so from these halls . . .” The details
astute. about his death were very sparse,
“At least, tell the cops. I could, though they did mention where he
but w hat would I say? They would was found and that a search was
n’t listen to me. I’m a kid, a girl, a now “underway to find who had set
nobody. You, they might listen to. I the fires,” which in my mind was an
just think they should check out altogether different issue. Seals
the Swim m ers’ Club, is all. I don’t and fishermen? Now, they didn’t
know the name o f the other mem jive with a burned man strangled
ber, but Miss McGifford was one, by his own tie. The paper also went
definitely. I'll show you my year on to say that the “Quinicut and
book; I’ll bring it to school tomor Manamesset Police Departments
row.” were working in conjunction with
“No,” I told her. I was thinking, state authorities” to bring the guilty
too much; this was not good. “No, I’ll parties to justice.
come over today, if it’s okay.” Just a “My stepfather says I could make
pause; Covey wasn’t going to like some money if 1 sold what I saw,
this, not to m ention Jake or my you know, to a local paper or some
mother. But who said any o f them thing.”
had to know? “W here do you live?” I looked at her, paper in my hand.
‘You going to do that?”
Someone had left the newspaper “What do I say? How shriveled
lying open on the kitchen table. She up he was? How I recognized him
went over to it, put her hand on by his tie?”
the short, concise article which de I looked around the small, spare,
tailed: Local Teacher Found Dead white kitchen. Emma lived in one
on Black Oak Island. There wasn’t of four apartments which had been
m uch to it, though; th e police made by dividing up an old Cape
weren’t releasing very much infor farmhouse. It had been about an
mation. Truth is, they probably did hour’s bike ride from my house, and
n’t have much. All the paper, a big- easy to find; I knew the area.
city Boston issue, did say was that “Besides, he . . . doesn’t know we
Mr. Davies had been “one o f the have photographs. We do have pho
best-liked and m ost popular teach tos? I mean, if someone saw them
ers at Quinicut Junior High, where when they were being developed,
he taught history, geography, and they’d turn the photos into the cops,
until last year, was assistant coach right?”
o f M anam esset County’s All-Amer “All done by machine, Emma.” I
ican Junior League Swim Team.” reached into my jack et pocket,
The article also went on to say that, pulled out the wad o f photos, and
“Dave Davies was unmarried, leav tossed them on the table.
ing only a few distant cousins,” but “They’re there?” She dove on
that, according to the principal o f them, and rifling through fifteen
Quinicut, “his presence and exu photos o f Covey eating donuts, Cov
THE S W I M M E R S ’ C L U B 159
ey drinking soda, Covey acting like or your friends, o r . . . ”

a clown, she found the three Fd tak ‘Y ou know, w e ... we ignore a lot
en o f the dead Mr. Davies. “M y o f what we see if it makes us un
God.” She slipped down into a comfortable, and if the person is ..
kitchen chair. “Okay, okay, so if the . well, a Mr. Davies. Popular and
others . . . they were killed ... they sm art and friendly.”
died and they were accidents, this “Em m a . . . ” I moved closer to her,
. . . ” She dropped the three photos, but not so close that she’d misin
fanning them out on the table atop terpret m y intentions.
the newspaper. “This was no acci “Em. M y friends call me Em.”
dent. Herbie, he was murdered.” “I can’t do that.”
I leaned forward on the table, “Because you ’re not my friend?”
said: “Emma, there are a hundred She looked suddenly like she was
reasons Mr. Davies might have going to cry.
been killed: a fight, an argument, a “No, because that’s w hat m y
debt owed; he was involved in mother’s boyfriend calls my moth
drugs or something else illegal; he er. Her nam e is Emily.”
was fooling around with som e She smiled; it quickly faded. “No,
body’s wife. They’re going to ques I never saw anything bad, and he
tion the people he worked with; his never did or said anything to me.
friends, his enemies . . . ” It’s not that.” She settled back with
“But the kids? Will they question a sigh. “I could be so o ff base with
. . . the kids?” this, so w rong. But there w ere
She looked so pale sitting there, times when I was sitting at his desk
and strangely enough, so fright and kids w ould come in and they’d
ened. look at me, the kids, that is, as if
“Yeah, sure, the kids on the swim they wanted m e out o f there. Then
team, you mean?” Mr. Davies would laugh and I re
“No, the other kids.” m em ber one day him saying ‘It’s
“W hat other kids, Emma? You all right,’ and took them into this
don’t mean his students?’ back room h e had, where he kept
“No, the ones who came and saw maps and globes and stuff like that.
him after school, or that he drove It had a window in it; nothing hap
home, or . . . ” She shook her head pened— I would have seen. But I
rather pathetically. n ever h eard what they talked
“Emma, did Mr. Davies ...” I re about. I used to wonder about that.”
alized then how intimidating m y She shrugged.
pose might have been, so I quickly “Kids,” I m urm ured, then not
slid out a chair and sat next to her knowing w hy I said it, added, “Girl
at the table. “Hey, you know more kids— o r . . . ”
about this guy than you want to She cut m e right off: “Boys. They
say. Did he . . . ” I glanced at, then were always boys.”
quickly turned over, the photos on
the table, “ever proposition you , She show ed me the yearbook af
Emma? You know, come on to you, ter that, w hich was nothing really
160 D . A . M C G U IR E
special, a ragged, soft-cover publi are dead and two alive, the two
cation about fifty pages long. In the women. Here . . .” She turned the
back was a section w ith candids, book to me and sighed again. It was
and am ong them w as a shot o f six a group photo o f about forty teach
adults sitting in the bleachers o f ers, the entire staff, I guess, o f
what looked like a pool. There was Quinicut Junior H igh in 1997.
a wavy effect to it, as though light “She’s right there. Miss Iverson.”
reflecting off o f w ater had cast a
blur against their faces. Strangely I didn’t know what I was going to
enough, I did recognize Mr. Davies, do yet. I had a little bit o f informa
even though I’d only seen him once, tion that didn’t amount to much,
and that one time, dead. Em m a plus three photos which now lay
pointed out the tw o w ho had died spread across the words, “Call me
in the crash, two young male teach Ishmael.” I was wondering if I could
ers, she said, th ou gh sh e never go rent Moby Dick at Blockbuster
knew them , both ta u gh t ninth and how true to the novel it really
grade. She also p oin ted out the was. Supposedly, being in Honors
phys. ed teacher w ho m ay or may English, I should be well into the
not have taken his own life with a tenth chapter by now. Instead, I
m ixture o f alcohol and sleeping was staring down at the figure o f a
pills. Then Miss McGiftord, a teach man who, though he hadn’t met his
er about thirty, w ith long straight fate at the hands (or tail) o f a white
hair and an ordinary, almost stem whale, had found it by the sea.
looking face. She looked ou t o f “Is everything okay?” That was
place in the bunch, as though pos my mother, cautiously peering in
sibly she was the only one there my open door.
not having a good time. The sixth “Yeah.” Funny thing, she hadn’t
person was another w om an, sit asked about this at all, even though
tin g behind Mr. D avies but for she knew and I’d heard her and
ward, with her arms looped around Jake talking about it over late-
his neck. night coffee and David Letterman.
“I know now w h y I forgot her. I was so determined to stay out of
She taught only one year, photog it, except that one thing Emma had
raphy.” She frowned. “She opened a said really stuck with me:
small photography studio; it’s in She was right: the cops wouldn’t
the center o f town. I don’t rem em question the kids, not lik e . . . well,
ber why she left; I can’t remember not like another kid could. They’d
everything. This is three years ago!” clam up tight if they knew any
“I rem em ber everyth in g from thing about why someone would
three years ago.” want to kill a nice, popular, easygo
“Well, aren’t w e special, Herbert ing guy like Mr. David Davies.
Sawyer.” She gave an exaggerated Question his colleagues, sure, and
sigh and flipped to the front o f the his principal, and all his friends,
yearbook, searching for something. the girl he was dating—if there was
“There, that’s all o f them and four one—but who was going to ask the
kids what they knew, and I bet they tennis. Was pretty good at every-
knew something.” tlring he did. His passion was swim
“Moby-Dick,” I said to my moth ming, though, and he was, as you
er, holding up the novel. know, assistant coach o f the county
‘T ou gh book,” she commented. team. Kids liked him; parents liked
“But worth it if you can get through him . No k n ow n enemies, lots o f
it.” Then, “Jake is here. He wants to friends. Despite all that, he dropped
talk to you.” his coaching position a year ago,
and we can’t seem to find out why.
“So do you want to know, or wait The local school boards requested
until it comes out in the papers?” it, sent a petition to the county ask
I think he was enjoying tor ing that he be relieved for a period
menting me, but the truth was, it o f three years. We’re trying to get
was either Jake or Herman the records opened, see w h at’s
Melville; I opted for Jake. We went what. The local talk is that he was
outside to talk; the redwood picnic getting a little verbally abusive to
table was still set up under the the kids, on edge a lot, a win-win
trees and it was another late sum guy who stomped all over his swim
mer, blissfully mild evening. We mers when they lost. Feeling was,
could hear my mother through the he needed some time off, and that
kitchen windows, emptying the m ay be all there is to it. As for his
dishwasher, cleaning up from sup job record, clean as a whistle. Guy
per. had perfect attendance three years
“I told you I’m keeping out o f it.” straight. Everyone liked him :
“A nd that’s good,” Jake agreed; coworkers, department chair, prin
he shifted his weight around so he cipal, parents. No complaints.
could fit at the table. He set a mug “As for how he died, he was stran
o f steaming coffee down and loos gled with his own tie, which in itself
ened his collar. He really needed to is strange, and 111 get back to that.
lose a few pounds. “Nice breeze; Seems th a t on Friday afternoon,
keeps the mosquitoes down.” after school, he went out with some
I folded my arms together on the friends, a group o f four m en he
table, stared straight at him, said: works with. They went for drinks at
“Okay, what do you have? W hat a local bar. Each arrived alone; each
have they got?” left in their own separate cars. One
“All I ever wanted was your in o f them was able to pinpoint the
sight, Herbie; I never wanted you time they left exactly, as he checked
involved in anything.” It was a pre his watch; apparently this guy had
dictable message, one he had to a date at seven o’clock. According to
give me, and then: “Dave Davies him, they all left the bar at a quar
was five-seven, 165 pounds, thirty- ter past six.
five years old, and in great shape. “Okay, now Dave Davies was a
Ran, swam, played pickup basket fairly formal dresser for a teacher,
ball with friends and kids after favored corduroy blazers and pais
school. Also liked to golf and play ley ties. A photograph o f the intact
162 d. a . McGuire
portion o f the tie found around his that. His jeans must have been wet.
neck was shown to a group of teach He was also submerged at least
ers. There’s general agreement that once; that particular fire was right
he wore that tie to school on Friday. on the high-tide line. Time o f death
Yet he was casually dressed—jeans is estimated to be between five and
and a jersey— when he w as found. seven on Friday night. Seeing we
O ne o f his friends explained that, know where he was at 6:15, and it
said Dave always changed his takes twenty minutes to get to
clothes before going out after North Pier, then another thirty to
school, usually in school. His car— get out to Black Oak, he probably
w ith a neatly folded blazer, shirt, was killed closer to seven or seven
and dress pants in it— w as found at thirty. Sunset was at 7:07, so a fire
N orth Pier Parking Lot. We can burning that far away, that time o f
find no one who saw him out there, day, might go unnoticed for a while,
or might know what he was doing or until it’s very dark. Most o f those
out there. Obviously he got from fires everyone is complaining about
North Pier to Black O ak Island by were started late at night, which
boat. We don’t know w ho he was makes them more noticeable on the
with— or why. mainland. No one has com e for
“B ack to the tie. It w as found w ard claiming responsibility for
around his neck, kind o f loosely any of those fires, though we’re still
draped, from the looks o f it. Only a asking around.”
small portion of it remained around “So a guy is strangled, dumped in
the neck itself. He was too burned a pile of debris, and lit on fire.”
to find signs o f abrasion, though “High tide Friday night was
his trachea did show som e com around eight fifteen; put whatever
pression. But this is th e funny fire was left out.”
thing: There was a knot in the tie, “Enemies?”
a big one, like a bow, but not a tie “None that we can determine. No
knot. You could have slid the whole motives, either. Had a teacher’s
thing up and over his head, do you union and a school insurance poli
follow? We don’t think that was the cy; some cousin in North Dakota is
knot that someone used to strangle the beneficiary.”
him. We found, or rather the state “The cousin still in North Dako
did, some nautical experts— some ta?”
sailor boys— who are studying the Jake gave a nod and w ent on:
knot. But anyhow, Davies is stran “Davies was a strong guy, also did
gled up on the beach above the tidal a little weightlifting. Someone big
rack. Signs o f a straggle were found ger and stronger than him did it, or
there, at the edge o f th e woods. took him by surprise. He’d had a
Th en his body is dragged to the few drinks; they found alcohol in
bonfire, dumped, and set on fire. his body, God knows how. Plus his
U sing ordinary lighter fluid, traces friends, and the bartender, all attest
o f which were found on his jeans. that he’d had several, and maybe
H e didn’t bum completely; you saw shouldn’t have been driving.”
“Did he s a y ... to his friends that ry sites, pretty innocuous stuff, all
night that he had a date, or was o f it. A few required passwords and
meeting someone?” we’ve got some expert working on
Jake ju st shook his head. “No. that, but it doesn’t look like Davies
The guy did date, off and on, but no was into anything shady or illegal.”
serious or steady girlfriend, or for Jake leaned back over the table and
that matter, boyfriend. Oh, one stared straight at me. His bright
more thing, a second tie was found blue eyes squeezed half-shut. “Still,
up in the woods, paisley, and a blan have you heard . . . anything?”
ket. Looks like the blanket from his “H eard? I’ve had four days o f
car, old plaid thing. They’re doing school, Jake; I’m not from Quini-
fiber analysis on it. The tie, also his. cut. I’ve heard zilch. You asking me
Couple o f teachers agreed, it was to go . . . ” I tried not to smile, “un
Davies’ tie.” dercover?”
“Another tie in the woods?” “H ell, n o!” he roared, pulling
“That’s what I said.” Jake sighed, away from me. ‘Y ou know, I would
took a breath, then, “The guy was n’t be telling you any o f this if it
clean and straight. We found one weren’t going to make the papers
incident o f driving under the influ tomorrow— well, most o f it. Still, if
ence; had some kids in the car with you hear anything— don’t go look
him so the cop brought him in, read ing, ju s t go listening— then you
him his rights. Parents had given come right to me, you hear?”
him permission to drive the kids; it “I’m all ears, Jake.”
was a county sponsored event. No
one could find any particular rea I got to admit it wasn’t easy; good
son to make a big stink about it, so thing I’m pretty obscure. Average
once he agreed not to drive kids height, average clothes, average ..
home from meets, the charges were . well, not average reputation. I
dropped.” wasn’t in Jim Reid’s gym class, but
“The guy liked to swim, and I managed to get into the locker
drink, and talk,” I said, half to my room on a pretty handy school in
self, h alf to Jake. vention— the bathroom pass. And
“That’s about it.” since there were a good fifty or six
“No, Jake, he liked one other ty kids in the locker room , and it
thing. H e liked kids.” was still the beginning o f the school
Jake m uttered an expletive, year, pretty m uch no one noticed
pulled away from me, m ug cradled that I w as out o f place. I ju st
in both his hands. “Okay, this is the walked around a lot and any teach
rest: a search o f his house found er who asked me whose class I was
nothing out o f line. There were two in— I ju s t said the other phys. ed
computers, but so far nothing you teacher’s name. No one knew me
wouldn’t expect to find in a teach yet, and th e few kids w h o said
er’s computer. Lots o f . .. hey, I don’t som ething to m e I ju st nodded to
know all the terms, bookmarks? and gave the standard greeting,
Yeah, mostly to sports sites, histo “Hey.”
164 D . A . M C G U IR E
Then, as everyone started leav going to college. You think Fm going

ing for the gym, I found him, look to screw that up?”
ing pretty much like he did yester “Course not,” I said. “And I’m sor
day: glum, sitting on a bench, arms ry I bothered you.”
folded on his knees, head resting on “Things happen in a school, you
his arms. “Hey, Jim,” a couple o f know, and if you’re smart, you keep
kids said to him, but he shrugged your mouth shut.”
them off, said: “I’ll be there.” Then I had already turned away; I did
he noticed me, right after which he n’t turn back, but I stopped.
also noticed the locker room was “Even the teachers; they know
pretty much empty. “W hat do you things and they don’t do a thing
want?” he snarled. about it,” he went on. “Maybe they
“I w ant to know about Mr. think, hey, they look at me and fig
Davies.” ure, he can take care o f himself,
He stood up so fast, moved so fast right? You think it’s easy being six-
toward me, I thought for a moment four and having people think that?
he was going to take a swing at me. You know, size isn’t everything, at
I figured great, that ought to do my least most o f the time.”
arm some good. Then I turned around, said:
“Mr. Davies, he was the man, you “W hat’d he do, Jim?”
know?” he shouted at me. He was so close to saying it,
“Yeah, noticed you were all damn, he was so close, but he was
choked up yesterday about him.” so scared, too. And I knew, looking
“Hey, you're that kid, aren’t you? at him, that I didn’t want to give
You found him. They call you him to Jake, or any other detective,
‘Death Kid.’ That’s pretty funny.” or the state police, or the D.A.’s of
“It keeps me laughing. Listen, fice, or anybody else. I wanted him
Davies had a reputation for being to tell me, but he couldn’t. All he
Mr. Perfect, Mr. Likable, but I don’t could say was this:
think everyone liked him. I don’t “You go see Janet Iverson, Bay-
think you did. Can you tell me side Photography, over in Quinicut.
why?” Tell her . . . tell her Dave Davies
“ I got asked by the cops, you sent you. That’s all I got to say to
know, lots o f questions.” He turned you, buddy, that’s all.”
around and shut the locker behind
him, then he turned on me again, I know we discussed Moby-Dick,
very fast, very scary. He was a big but I don’t know most o f what was
guy, and if he suddenly decided he said. I know there was a vocabulaiy
didn’t like me, well, this locker room assignment, some gram m ar and
was totally empty now, except for som e other stuff, but 1 don’t re
him and me. “But like I’d tell them member much about that, either. I
anything. What do they think I am, was thinking about what I should
some kind o f jerk? I’m riding on a do, and I knew what I was sup
swimmer’s scholarship; I gotta keep posed to do, but I didn’t do it.
my nose clean. It’s the only way I’m No, instead o f notifying Jake
TH E S W IM M E R S ’ CLU B 165
right away that Jim Reid knew a student sitting at her desk, a
something, something that scared sm all, pretty, intent girl, w ith
him to death, I went to the library blonde hair and a sunny disposi
after school; then I made my one tion.
mistake: I told Emma. She didn’t “Are you looking for Miss McGif-
take it any better than my mother ford?” she asked m e buoyantly. A p
would have. parently she was pasting labels on
“Are you crazy? Are you nuts?” a tall stack o f cardboard folders.
she nearly screamed at me from “She’s not here right now, but she’ll
behind the stacks. “You said to me be back. There’s a teachers’ meeting
that the cops were more than com downstairs, in the gym? They’re ar
petent, and that’s a direct quote! ranging for coverage for tomorrow,
You also have a cop as a friend; I because o f Mr. Davies’ funeral? You
know, Covey told me. Listen, you know, th ey’ll cover each oth er’s
can’t . . . you’re insane! If Big Jim classes so some o f them can go to
Reid told y o u ...” She did look a bit it?” She frowned slightly, but then,
upset, I’ll give her that, and briefly becoming buoyant again, said: “You
I wondered if it was because of me, don’t go to this school, do you?”
or if she’d have acted this way with “No.” I was wondering if every
anyone else. She looked away, face thing she said was a question.
flushed; there were some kids at a “Well, I’m hoping she covers my
table close by and she dropped her science class, because she’s not go
voice. “I know Jim; everyone who ing and I really like her. She’s my
went to Quinicut knows Jim. Big favorite teacher, and it w ould be
kid, superstar athlete: football, great to have her again. I w as in
track, on both the dive and swim h er science class last year.” She
teams. Come on, Sawyer, tell your seemed to want to emphasize that
cop friend what Jim said to you. carefully.
You can’t do this.” ‘You were.”
“Hey, I just asked for Miss McGif- “Yes, and I’m doing folders for
ford’s room number. If you can’t tell her right now, you know, for the
me, I’ll ask when I get there.” I seventh graders this year?”
started to walk away. I supposed I could have com e
“Damn you, Sawyer,” she mut back, b u t app aren tly I d id n ’t
tered at my back. “Room 216, sec seem too threatening to th is girl,
ond floor.” so I walked over and pretended to
be interested in the room: it was
Quinicut was an hour’s ride on your average science room , post
my bike, an old brick building near ers everywhere, periodic table on
the center o f town. School security the back w all, fu ll-size h u m a n
was like it was in most schools: non skeleton hanging from a rod near
existent. I walked right in, found the front board, m icroscopes, the
the stairs to the second floor, works.
walked into her room. Only prob “Did I say I’m in eighth g ra d e?’
lem, she wasn’t there, but there was she asked. “So, if you want m e to
166 d. a . McGuire
tell her you were here, or whatev a young man. On a whim, I said to
er, I can. Miss McGifford calls me the girl:
her unpaid secretary.” “Who’s this?”
I looked back at her, thinking “Oh, that’s not her boyfriend, I
about, heck, so many things, some bet you think that. Eveiybody does.
o f which scared me. For one, the T hat’s her brother, Joey. He
fact that some kids sometimes get drowned.” Instantly her face posed
into rather com plicated relation sadness, as if it were expected of
ships with their teachers, relation her. And then, a huge smile, meant
ships that parents, even close for me: “So, can I tell her you were
friends, som etim es n ever know here?”
about. Most are utterly harmless, “Where does she keep her boat?”
even helpful in the long run. W hat I handed her back the cube, and as
kid couldn’t use another caring, she went to take it, I pulled back
concerned, and com passionate with a little tug. O n cue, she
adult in their lives? Then I thought blushed, said, “Up at North Pier, I
about Jim Reid. think.”
“Just answ er me a question, “Thanks.” I let the cube go.
would you? You say she was your
teacher last year?” I fanned the three photos out in
‘Y es. She’s w onderful. We did front of me: Mr. Dave Davies, dead,
stuff all the time.” scorched, barely recognizable ex
“Did she . . . ” I folded m y arms, cept for his paisley tie where it had
leaned against the large wooden n’t burned, at the loose kn ot in
desk this pretty, perky girl was sit back. I didn’t need a sailor, a “knot
ting at. She was too anxious to be expert,” to tell me it was just a reg
nice to me, too eager to please. That ular bow knot, som ething any
was scaiy, too. “. . . ever mention to grade school kid can do.
you, or to you r class, anything But what I needed was a plan,
about t h e . . . Swim m ers’ Club?” because it was as though I was fol
“Swimmers’ Club?” she frowned lowing a long line myself, and
in an exaggerated sort o f way, shook though I couldn’t see to what it was
her head. “Miss McGifford sails, she hitched, I had to follow that line,
doesn’t swim.” unknotting it along the way. I had
“Sails?” n’t expected to find w ho had killed
Y e s, see?” She picked up a cube Mr. Davies, or even why, and I still
o ff the desk, handed it to me. It was hadn’t, but what I had found was
one o f those cheap plastic things even bigger, and m ore important
you can buy in any stationery store, than finding one “likable” m an’s
the kind o f cube you put photos in. murderer.
I turned it: several shots o f a nice- Twenty minutes ago I’d made
looking sailboat, probably a twenty- three calls, the first to Jake. I asked
footer, a few others o f what proba him to meet me here, if he could, a
bly had to b e M iss M cG ifford, small diner off the Manamesset Ro
including one with her arm around tary where we often went for a late-
night snack, an early breakfast, “I took these with Emma Pres

whatever. I also asked him to bring ley’s disposable camera. She’s the
me something. only one w ho knows . . . what Fm
Then I’d called my mother, ex goin g to tell you. Covey doesn’t
plained w here I was, with whom, know. N o one else knows. Jim Reid,
and quite calm ly convinced her he’s a senior, h e sent me there, but
how innocent it all was. My story he doesn’t know I went. You see,
was I’d gone over to a friend’s, then Jake, I don’t know who killed Dave
hit the library, and was eating din Davies, and I don’t even know the
ner with Jake at the diner on the motive for sure, though I do have a
M anam esset Rotary. She accepted few guesses, and even a few new
it all very calmly. suspects for you to question. W hat
Then I called Emma. I’ve got to tell you . . . it’s bigger
than Dave Davies.
“First, I want you to know some “I do kn ow this, and probably
thing . . . ” I started in; we were in you guys have figured out how he
the booth farthest back, which was died, right?” I pointed out the knot
a snug fit for Jake, but he made it. in the picture— a thick knot that
He placed a manila envelope be m ust have got wet and was pre
tween us on the table. “I never served largely intact. “I mean, Mr.
would have done any o f this i f I Davies didn’t think he was going
hadn’t talked to Jim Reid; he’s a to be strangled with this tie, that’s
senior at school and he’s real because it w as tied around his
scared. After him, I had to. You got eyes.” I look ed up at Jake. H e
to know that, Jake.” m ade a sou n d and looked o ff
He wanted to talk, to interrupt; I across the diner, shaking his head.
shot right over his words: “It was a blindfold, wasn’t it? The
“And now you got to let me finish, other tie, th e one in the w oods,
to say everything I need to say, then th at p rob a b ly was around his
you can . . . heck, Jake, I’ll be going wrists.” I shook my head; did he
to school in Alaska when this all think this w as easy? N one o f it
gets out. W hat I know, what I was. “H e w as out there right at
found, it’s going to blow Quinicut sunset, Jake, and playing a little
Junior H igh— no, all o f Quinicut— gam e w ith som eone, a gam e he
sky high. And my school, too, and was . . . w illin g to play. But the
this whole area. When people know gam e w en t sour, and whoever he
that I . . . ” I felt like I was going to was w ith — male, female, young,
choke— on a scorpion. I couldn’t old, w h oev er— came up behind
swallow and Jake motioned for a him and slipped that tie down and
waitress, quickly ordered us a cou around h is neck, and strangled
ple o f cokes. And until they came, him with it, by twisting it. That
he was quiet. part o f the tie is mostly gone. A n y
Then, after the waitress disap how, it had to be someone who was
peared, I slowly turned over the pretty strong, or quick, or both.”
photos, one at a time. “Yeah, t h a t ... scenario has come
168 D . A . M C G U IR E
up as a possibility” he agreed soft sort o f way. The front room had

ly- been converted over into a small
“But when I tell you the rest, hey, waiting room, which was empty. It
it’s too bad he’s dead, b u t . . How was going on five, closing time.
did I do this? Jake’s know n me Still, I hadn’t expected things to
since I was twelve; he’s dated my move as fast, and as completely as
m other seriously, off and on, for al they did. Janet Iverson was a fad
most four years. “Is that the print ing blonde, nearly forty, with a
out?” hard-seamed face which had seen
He shoved the manila envelope too many summers in the sun. She
at me. Inside were several pages almost looked past me at first, say
detailing the Web sites which Dave ing, “Didn’t you read the sign, kid;
Davies had bookmarked in his com we close at five.” Then she turned to
puter. Lots o f sites with “swim,” and me and before I could speak, said:
“water” and “aqua” in their titles; “Too young for senior pictures,
lots o f sites about golf and tennis. aren’t you? You looking for some
Professional sites; personal sites; thing special? Something to prop
general information sites. Even a up on the TV set for Mom?” She
few that probably had something to was smoking a cigarette and
do with the subject he taught, social paused to exhale; somehow I knew
studies. But I found w hat I was 1 had to do it fast, then and there,
looking for and pointed it out to no pauses:
him . Som eone had placed a red “Mr. Davies sent me over.”
check mark next to it. So here was another twist in the
“T h at one needs a passw ord,” line I’d been following since talking
Jake said. “We’ve got some experts to Jim Reid; here was the last mem
working on it. Looks like an ordi ber o f the Swimmers’ Club, and she
nary site, from outward appear I got to see, to talk to, meet up close.
ances. There’s a Web master; Because that hard, seamed face
they’ve contacted him, or her, sent changed then, loosened, and the
an e-mail.” tiny pinprick eyes lit up and she
“I know who the Web master is, smiled— a yellow-toothed grin.
Jake, and the password, too.” I sank “Even dead, he keeps sending
back against the hard, cold vinyl them,” she half-laughed. “W hat a
seat. “Let me tell you about i t .. guy. You do know he’s dead?” A n
other puff o f the cigarette as she
After I left Quinicut Junior High, waltzed around me, looking me up
I headed for the main street, found and down as she did. When she got
Bayside Photography cn a little between me and the door, she spun
side road. It was a business oper around and locked the door. Then,
ating out o f a small, white-with- with a quick glance both ways out
red-trim Cape Cod cottage, with a the window, she said, “H ow’d you
new addition, a studio, tacked on get here? Bike? Smart boy, behind
the side. It was fairly pretty, kind o f the hedge.” She pulled the shade
picturesque in a rural, run-down down.
“Yeah, I h ea rd ... some kid found out,” I said, “Tm dead. But I have to
him,” I said with total disinterest. do this, and, hey, I didn’t w an t to
“But life goes on, right? Life is read M oby-Dick anyway.”
for the living.” She turned her at “Just w h en I think you can’t sur
tention back to me. “T h e deal is prise m e . . . ”
this, I have to check you out, you I cut h im off: “D am n it, Jake,
know that, and that’ll take me a there’s a group o f teachers who
week, maybe a little longer. Then, if feed h er kids; one o f th em was
they say you’re okay, and I don’t D ave D avies. You look around,
see why you won’t b e . . Her smile you’re goin g to find, somewhere, a
turned into a leer, “you get forty huge bank account in his name.
percent, take it or leave it. I do all A n d ... that’s all I got. Oh, and this,
the bookkeeping so you’ve got to that’s their website.” I looked down
trust me. Understand?” at the printout he’d made for me.
“Yeah, sure.” ‘T h e Swim m ers’ Club. It’s a pom
“Studio’s in back; I’ll need a few site, and I think, I’d guess, that
photos, nothing fancy. And your Dave Davies was the webmaster,
name.” so you’re not going to get any reply
“Fine, whatever.” from him . B ut it does se e m ,if I
were you, I’d try ‘paisley’ as a pass
“A nd?” Jake dem anded; good word.”
thing there was a sturdy metal ta I got up then, figuring i f I left
ble between the two o f us. “And?” now he’d be less apt to kill me.
“And she took some pictures of There were still a lot o f diners up
me.” I sighed, sat back even far near the front o f the restaurant.
ther. “Just with my shirt off, noth “Do you know w hat you did?”
ing else. Look, Jake, you need to Jake asked.
send someone else in there, some “I also got a few names for you,
one who looks real young, some possible . . . suspects in the murder.
one . . . ” But I think when you open this up,
“I know what I need to do.” He you’re goin g to find a lot o f them
looked like he wanted to kill me. yourself, suspects, that is. Kids now
“You got to do it quick, too, before grown up, and their parents, and
she realizes I gave h er a fake their older brothers, and maybe a
name. She’s going to ask around, teacher w h o just got sick o f it all.”
the school— both schools— and find I shrugged. “I didn’t mean to do
out if I’m o k a y . . . to use. She must this, Jake. You knew I didn’t want
have contacts, teachers, other to. I fell into it, please believe me, I
adults, I don’t know. I suppose they did.”
look for kids w h o . . . have one par Then h e said som ething which
ent, or com e from foster homes, or totally surprised me: “W h o have
need a scholarship to get into col you told?”
lege.” We were both silent for a mo “You. Em m a. That’s it.”
ment; I guess it took a while to all “This senior, this Reid kid?”
sink in. “A n d when it all comes I shook m y head. “You send in
170 D . A . M C G U IR E
undercover right away, J im w on’t thought you asked me over here to
know it was me.” day because . . . well, I didn’t think
“W h at nam e did you give this it was because you needed to tell
w om an so she could check you me to be quiet about what you did.
out?” Because I would have, been quiet,
“Jake Valari.” without even being asked. Maybe
you don’t know me well enough,
“N ow I know why you had— and yet, to know that.”
lost— three g ir lfr ie n d s s h e said, I relaxed back on the sofa, said:
standing over me, book in hand. “Maybe not.”
She took a swipe at m e w ith it but She sank down on the floor, book
all I did w as shield m y head. in her lap, then turned so her head
“You’re dangerous, Sawyer. You’re was near where m y arm was rest
a jerk , and you ’re dangerous.” ing. “ I’m thinking o f . . . dying my
I w a s lyin g on the old wicker hair pink.” She tipped her head up,
couch on m y front porch, looking but couldn’t see me. “W hat do you
up at her as she threatened to hit think?”
me again w ith her copy o f Moby- “I think if you really want to, go
Dick. “You think you can keep all ahead.”
this quiet, Em m a?” She turned around then, and
“O ne week I’ve known you— one folding her arms on the edge o f the
stinking week.” She backed away couch, looked at me. ‘Y ou think? I
from me, looked around the porch should hit you with this book and
with a tight, grim, alm ost fright break you r arm all over again.
ened look on her face. H er hair did W hat are you really thinking,
n’t look so green today; m aybe she Sawyer?”
was slowly washing it out, and her I dropped my hand on her shoul
face w as n ot quite so m ade-up, der. “I’m thinking I’m going to have
th ou gh h er eyes w ere still very a hard tim e telling my best friend
dark, very intense. “You know, I . . . that I want his girlfriend.”
Unsolved at present, that is, hut can you work it out?
The answer will appear in the September issue.
W hen rum ors persisted th at the k in g o f Z azu zu had p u rch a sed

huge quantities o f munitions and was in the m arket for m ercenaries,
the bordering countries o f Xaimo and Yoland became alarmed. E ach
country planned to send three a gen ts into Z azu zu d isg u ised as
tourists. The tim ing seemed propitious, inasm uch as the k in g was
inviting all visitors to his realm to a gala formal reception.
As it happened, only two agents were loyal to each o f the threatened
nations; the fifth was a double agent, receiving pay from both X aim o
and Yoland. These secret operators h ad the code nam es A uk, B lu e
bird, Canary, Duck, and Eagle, and traveled under the covers o f art
ist, banker, chef, dentist, and engineer. Each w as instructed b y th e
chief o f intelligence in his country to com m unicate truthfully w ith his
fellow agents, but to lie in all m atters to strangers. The double agent,
playing a dangerous game, lied to everyone.
However, the chief o f intelligence in X aim o suspected that one agent
in his em ploy was a traitor, so w ithout their knowledge he planted a
tiny transmitter in the collar button o f each in order to m onitor their
conversations at the upcom ing affair in Zazuzu. To be certain o f the
identity o f each speaker, the transm itters were set at three different
frequencies.
Similarly, the chief o f intelligence in Yoland also distrusted his op
erators, and secretly installed a m iniature transm itter set at a par
ticular frequency in the shirt stud o f each o f his agents. In X aim o and
in Yoland, each chief sat back to anxiously await developments.
At the king o f Zazuzu’s reception, intrigue was everywhere as pairs
o f individuals m et h ere and th ere to con verse discreetly and ca u
tiously in low tones.
(1) A t 21:05 that evening, the A uk m et Mr. Krich and said quietly,
“Mr. Gerdo, the engineer you m et earlier, is from Yoland, not from X ai
mo as he claims.”
(2) Five minutes later in another co m e r o f th e great palace b a ll

room, the Bluebird remarked to Mr. Gerdo, “Mr. Havik over there is a
chef.”
171
172 UNSOLVED
(3) A t 21:15 the C anary said to Mr. Idatz, “I am Mr. Jurdy. Please ex
cuse the facial bandages— I had a rather nasty auto accident. Have
you been introduced to th e king yet?”
(4) A t 21:18 the A uk m entioned to Mr. Jurdy, “My name is Krich. Mr.
Gerdo, across the room and speaking to our host, is from X alm o.”
(5) A t 21:20 the B luebird said in a low voice to Mr. Havik, “Mr. G er
do isn’t the engineer w h o is the agent known as the Canary.”
(6) A t 21:25 the C an ary spoke privately to the banker. “Th e ch ef is

the Auk; it’s the dentist w ho is Mr. Havik.”
(7) A t 21:35 the A u k confided to Mr. Havik, “ Earlier this evening I

spoke to Mr. Jurdy, a very interesting man. Despite what others may
say, he is a noted banker.”
(8) A t 21:48 the D u ck rem arked to the chef, “The banker is from
Yoland. The artist is here tonight.”
A t 22:00 that night, on e o f the chiefs o f intelligence made a hurried

telephone call to the head o f Passport Control in his country. As he
hung up, he muttered, “N ow I know positively who the traitor is. He
has a big surprise aw aiting him upon arrival back at our C ustom s.”
Who was th e d ou ble a gen t? Which ch ief o f intelligence

exposed h im ? H ow ? A n d what could that m ysterious
p h on e call have been about?
(Hint: Each ch ief o f intelligence knows, o f course, the identity o f the

speaker when he is one o f his agents. I f he also hears a sim ultaneous
transm ission o f the sam e words, he knows that another o f his agents
is bein g addressed a n d th a t the speaker is presum ably tellin g the
truth. If, however, the other frequencies remain silent, then the speak
er is presumably lyin g to som e stranger.)
See page 183 for the solution to the June puzzle.

Stalkers
Stuart R. Ball
eorge McCall wasn’t going to die on m y watch. I whispered in
G his ear: “Go right. Right at the com er.” H e paused w hen he
reached the corner, deciding. “Right. Right,” I whispered. H e
looked to the right, and I reached out to the neon sign in the w indow
o f the restaurant down the street and m ade it flicker ju st a little. He
saw it in his peripheral vision and m ade up h is mind. He w ent right.
I looked back down the street in tim e to see the ca r that A lvarez
had sent. It careened around a corner and raced across the crosswalk,
right w here McCall would have been if he h ad gon e left instead o f
right. The driver saw me, and we locked eyes for a moment, trium ph
starin g dow n angry defeat. 1 had seen the d river before, one o f the
flunkies w ho worked for Alvarez. B ut he had m issed this time. I won.
We won.
McCall walked down the street toward the restaurant, the Hunan
Sun. I watched carefully as he crossed the street, but no danger was
im m inent this time. He sat down, ordering K ung Po chicken from the
lunch menu. From McCall's file 1 knew that he ate here about once a
week and always ordered the sam e Ihing. 1 spoke into my lapel and
checked in while he sipped his soup. “Any oth er actions pending on
M cCall?” I asked after I had filled them in on the ca r incident.
“None that we have uncovered,” said the t inny voice in my ear. “But
be careful. They have to make their m ove by eleven o'clock tonight.”
"W hy eleven?” I asked (or the third time. Like the other two times,
I received no reply.
On a h u n ch , I strolled into th e k itch en . T h ere w ere on ly three
restaurants along this street that McCall patronized. Suppose they
had “arranged” something at all three? Just in case the car missed? I
browsed the spices, looking for poisons, but I didn't really expect to
find any. Th ey don’t like mass killings except for really important tar
gets— it’s a technique that can only be believable so often. I didn’t see
any o f their agents. Perhaps one o f the hum ans? I mentally reviewed
the file on McCall, matching faces against the known data on this res
taurant. No, all the workers in the kitchen had been here for some
time.
1 went back into the dining room, w here th e regulars were starting
to file in, ju s t in tim e to see an en em y a gen t com e in. She w alked
through the wall, which meant she w asn’t ca rryin g anything solid.
She nodded in my direction, and I hurried to M cC all’s side.The agent
173
174 STU ART R . BALL
w ent around to the potted plant beside the door. She looked around
to be sure nobody was watching and then reached behind the brass
planter. She withdrew h er hand, h olding it up so I could see the pill
she w as holding. O f course. They had hidden the poisoned pill there
earlier, probably at the same time they planned the hit-and-run.
T h e agent strode purposefully tow ard the table. She was probably
planning to drop the poison into M cC all’s soup, or maybe his iced tea.
O f course, as soon as she let go o f it, it would becom e visible to M c
Call, so it had to be som ething that w ould dissolve quickly. I stood be
tw een her and M cC all’s table.
“You aren’t going any closer with that,” I said.
She stopped in fron t o f me. “M cC all’s going dow n,” she said. She
sw u n g at m y head w ith one fist, and I almost missed her tossing the
pill over m y shoulder w ith the other. Ignoring the stars that explod
ed in m y head when h er fist connected, I made a grab and caught the
pill before it dropped into McCall’s soup. He was signaling the wait
er for another glass o f tea and didn’t see the m om entary appearance
o f the pill as it flew through the air. T w o other diners glanced our way
as i f they’d seen m otion at the edge o f their vision. W hich they had, o f
course.
I pocketed the pill and twisted to face the agent, but she was al
ready w alking away. She turned before she reached the wall. “W e’ll
get him , you know,” she said.
“ I’ve n ever lost on e yet,” I called after her. “N ot in tw o hundred
years.”
I hovered around M cC all’s table, m aking occasional dashes into the
kitchen to be sure no strangers had entered, until his plate was set in
front o f him. I took a breather while he ate, watchful but feeling tem
porarily safe.
This assignm ent had started out pretty much like any other. I was
h a n d ed a fold er w ith h is biograp h y and h abits, the places he fre
q uen ted, th ings like that. Each o f h is close friends, cow orkers, and
fam ily m em bers warranted a single page with a picture and biogra
phy. A n y on e p erip h era lly con n ected to him , like th e cooks in the
kitchen, had pictures and one-line descriptions. I knew that McCall,
age thirty-five, was a buyer for an electrical equipm ent manufactur
er. H e liked g o lf and detested sad m ovies, and his twice-weekly bas
ketball gam es had given him knee problem s that he hadn’t noticed
yet. I knew th at he had a sister in N ew Mexico, that his m other was
takin g m edication for high cholesterol, and that his married boss was
h avin g an affair. It w as standard stuff, which I m em orized quickly,
b u t som eth in g was m issing. I looked up at m y supervisor. “W here’s
the rest o f it?” I had asked.
“W h at do you m ean?” he said. “T h a t’s all there is.”
STALKERS 175
“You know, the part that tells me w hy M cCall has to be kept alive.
O r w hy they want him dead.”
He steepled his fingers. “That’s all there is,” h e had repeated.
M cCall opened his fortune cookie. The fortu n e read “You w ill r e
ceive help from an unexpected source.” W ho w rites these things, a n y
way? M cCall nibbled at the cookie, and I w ondered why he was a ta r
get. M aybe he was going get in his car and h a v e a head-on collision
that w ould kill the enem y’s next would-be w orld dictator. It had h a p
pened before, where w e saved som eone ju s t so they could be k illed
later in the right place and at the right time. W e w eren’t always s u c
cessful, w hich is why H itler had lived past the age o f twenty-five. I re
m em ber th a t one. I shook my head. It w asn ’t n orm al for the fie ld
agent to be unaware o f why his charge was im portant. N ot unheard
of, ju st not normal.
McCall finished eating and got up to leave. H e opened the door, and
I slipped out ahead o f him, since I couldn’t ju st pass through a closed
door while I had the poison pill in my pocket. I looked quickly around
for enem y agents but saw none. As McCall w alked back to his office,
I crum bled the pill between m y fingers, leavin g a trail o f fine d u st
that was blown away by the light breeze. It w ou ld be so m uch easier
if we could use the sam e tactics that the en em y used. It was fr u s
trating som etim es, not to be able to co-opt som e hum an and ben d
their will to the need o f the moment. “No interference with the free
will o f hum ans.” It was the one rule we all had to obey. We can a r
range circum stances, we can whisper subconscious suggestions, b u t
we aren’t allowed to take control o f a human m ind or body.
The enemy, o f course, ignored all such restrictions. That plane crash
last year th at was n ever satisfactorily explained was one o f theirs.
T h ey k illed the researcher who was on th e verge o f a cu re for
leukemia. O ur agent was held by two o f theirs and had to watch h e lp
lessly while one o f the enemy took control o f the pilot’s body and flew
the plane straight into the ground. W hy have th at capability and not
be allowed to use it? I shook my head. It only m ade me angry to co n
sider our limitations. Self-imposed lim itations th at m ade no sense . .
. Better to not think about it.
McCall m ade it back to his desk without incident, and I perched on
the edge, finally able to relax for a while. He w as fairly safe in the o f
fice, and he didn’t seem to be an im portant en ough target for them to
crash a plane for or anything like that. I w ished I knew w hat exactly
McCall was going to do tomorrow or next m onth or next year. It w ould
give me som e idea o f how far they would go to get him.
It was a slow afternoon, and McCall made som e telephone calls and
w rote a couple o f m emos. Around three thirty som eone called h im ,
and I got very interested.
176 ST U A R T R . BALL
“George? This is T risha,” said the caller.

George had dated T rish a o ff and on for the last few months. She
was the account m an ager for one o f his suppliers, and he had m et h er
through norm al business interactions. George hesitated, probably not
sure if the call w ere business or personal. “Hi, Trish,” he answered.
“How are you ?”
“Have you seen P ara n orm alT
“I don’t even know w h at it is,” George said. “I m ean I know what the
word m eans, but I don ’t know w hat you’re talking about.”
“Paranorm al. The play at the Glass House, that dinner theater they
renovated. D ow ntow n.”
“Oh. Sure. 1 read som eth in g about that.” I knew that he’d seen it in
yesterday's paper, although he probably wouldn’t recall the specific
reference.
“My boss was goin g to go, but he had som ething com e up and he
gave m e his tickets. W ant to go? Tonight?”
George thou gh t about it momentarily. “Sure. T h at’ll be fun. Do you
w ant to m eet m e there?”
“Parking is pretty bad downtown, so we should take one car. Pick
m e up? A round six?”
“Sure.” It sounded like fun for George, but it was big news to me. H e
was supposed to spend tonight w atching TV, as fa r as we knew.
George checked his w atch as he hung up, and I called in. “W e’ve got
a change o f plan,” I said.
“I know, I know,” cam e the reply. “We’re checking on it.”
“D on’t take too long,” I said. “1 need to know w h at’s going on here.”
George w ent to the restroom , and I followed to be sure he wasn’t g o
ing to have a fatal “accident” on a wet floor or anything like that. T h e
receiver in m y ear beeped w hile George was w ashing his hands.
“W hat’s the story?” I asked.
“Okay. Trish got the tickets from her boss. Looks like they got to his
m other w ith som e kind o f virus. She’s nearly eighty, so he had to take
her to th e hospital. T h ey made sure he was tied up on the telephone
until everyon e b u t T rish was out o f the office. Probably suggested
that he give Trish the tickets; otherwise he’d likely have forgotten he
even had them .”
“1 don’t like it,” I said.
“Just follow M cCall. W e’ll try to get some backup downtown. D on’t
let him sit under anyth in g heavy.”
“Sure, sure.” Like I h aven ’t done this a time or two.
McCall finished out the afternoon, probably thinking about his date
with Trish because he didn’t work very hard. He left about five m in
utes ea rly to b eat th e rush. H e w ent straight hom e. M y rece iv e r
beeped w hile he was changing clothes.
“H ere’s the deal,” m y control said. “We’ve got an agent at T rish ’s
STALKERS 177
house. Looks clean. W e’re checking out the area around the th eater
but haven’t found anything yet. W e’ll have som eone in the bar in case
th ey try som ething with McCall’s drink.”
“H ow about putting somebody in the k itchen?” I asked.
“Sorry. We can only spare one. You’ll have to cover the kitchen you r
self.”
I sighed. “Okay. I don’t like it, though. T h ey didn’t give an old lady
the flu for nothing.” There was alw ays a p rob lem w ith low -priority
targets. They had to be protected, b u t there w ere never enough o f us
to go around. I supposed I should be grateful for any help at all. Som e
tim es the enem y gets the jum p on us— th ey identify som ebody im
portant before we do, before we can assign sufficient coverage. H ow
ever we do it, though, there always seem to be too m any people for us
to take care of. Fortunately for us, the other side has the same prob
lem. They can’t ju st take hum anity over— there aren’t nearly enough
o f them. And if too m any weird, supernatural things happened, h u
m ans would catch on. The last th ing the oth er side wants is for h u
m anity to start exercising power th ey don’t even know they have.
McCall drove to Trish’s house w hile I fidgeted nervously in the back
seat. I cringed as an eighteen-w heeler pulled up behind us, b u t the
driver stopped with plenty of clearance. I w atched carefully at every
intersection, looking for oncom ing cars, b u t none appeared. I hate
p rotectin g a hum an w ho is d riv in g a car. T h ere are ju s t so m a n y
things you can’t control. All the en em y h as to do is suggest th a t a
driver keep his or her car in another driver’s blind spot. Enough miles
like that, and a lane change is bound to happen. And hum ans are so
susceptible to suggestion when th ey’re driving.
George picked up Trish without incident and drove downtown. The
G lass H ouse is one o f those old dow n tow n buildings that h as been
renovated as part o f a renewal project. It’s surrounded by older build
ings that haven’t been touched, som e o f them abandoned.
The theater was crowded, and I spent quite a bit o f time going back
and forth between the kitchen and M cC all’s table. Trish w ent to the
restroom after they ate, but I stayed with M cC all. That’s ju st the sort
o f opportunity they look for, leadin g you aw ay w ith som ething you
th ink is significant w hile som ething you overlook ed sneaks up on
w hoever you’re protecting.
Trish moved her chair closer to George’s and took his hand under the
table as the lights w ent down. G eorge’s h eart rate w ent up b u t not
enough to be dangerous. The play w asn’t bad, although Trish giggled at
a few places that were supposed to be serious. It ended right on time,
and George suggested that they w ait until th e crowd thinned before
leaving. Trish seemed to like that idea, and they made small talk while
I tried to check out everybody that passed within arm’s length o f George.
178 STU ART R. BALL
I saw a bulge under one gu y’s jacket, but when I checked it, it turned out
to be a cell phone.
George and Trish trailed the crowd, among the last to leave the build
ing. Trish slipped her arm through George’s and clasped his arm with
her other hand. When they got outside, a light rain had started falling,
and George said he’d bring the car around. It was past ten thirty, and I
was starting to think the enem y might have given up on this one.
George walked quickly down the sidewalk and rounded the building,
and I realized that this particular parking lot was nearly empty. H e had
parked at the far end, and there w asn’t another person in sight. M y
senses went on high alert as he strode toward his car.
I finally saw them, around the com er o f an abandoned building. Three
youths, probably eighteen years old. “R u n !” I shouted to George, and he
paused and looked around like som eone who has heard a noise while
strolling through a cemetery. He shrugged. Crazy, he said to himself,
shaking his head. The three thugs came around the com er o f the build
ing as George opened the car door.
“Gimme your car keys and your wallet,” one o f them said.
George looked up, surprise changing to horror as he saw the gun in
the kid’s hand. “No problem ,” he stammered. He tossed the keys, and
they fell short by a foot.
“Run! Run!,” I shouted, but George wasn’t listening to his su bcon
scious any more. He reached around for his wallet.
“Want to watch me do this one?” the kid with the gun asked the oth
ers.
“D o it,” said one. The light in his eyes was evil, and I knew that this
was how they were going to take George out. The kid with the gun point
ed it at him, and I pushed his arm, ju st a little, as he pulled the trigger.
The bullet zipped past George’s ear, and he broke into a terrified run. He
ran the wrong way, unfortunately, not back toward the lighted street but
into the abandoned building that bordered the parking lot. The plywood
that once covered a side door had been pulled away long ago by junkies
or vagrants, and he w en t straight into the heart o f the building. I fol
lowed. I could hear the three hoodlums arguing about whether to beat
it or go after George. I could feel one o f the enemy in the building, and I
knew what they would decide.
They came through the same doorway that George had used as he ran
dow n a flight o f rickety stairs. He ducked into a side room, an old closet,
and leaned up against the wall, panting. The place smelled o f urine and
d am p newspapers. I w atch ed the stairs to see if the three m uggers
would follow. I wondered what kind o f flak I’d take for the gun incident.
I mean, it was dark, and the kid probably wasn’t a very good shot. How
could anyone know th a t he w ouldn’t have missed anyway? It would
probably be okay— I’d gotten away with things like that before.
The kids had apparently split up, and one o f them started down the
STALKERS 179
stairs. George caught his breath when he heard footsteps on the stairs;
he knew he was trapped. I frantically looked for a solution and found a
loose step. N ot quite within the rules, but I’d b ent one already. I pushed
the step up ju st a little, and it came away as the kid stepped on it. He
flew headlong down the stairs and hit his head on the concrete floor. His
gun skittered across the floor and came to rest outside the doorway o f
George’s hiding place.
“Buck? That you?” one o f the others shouted. I could hear footsteps.
“Buck?” The voice was closer the second time. George peeked around the
corner and looked at the mugger on the floor. T h e kid was alive, but he
w asn’t goin g anywhere for a while. G eorge looked dow n at the gun.
Keeping his eyes on the staiiway, he knelt and felt around until he had
the gun awkwardly in his hand. He took a deep, shaky breath and start
ed slowly up the stairs, the gun wavering so m uch that h e’d never be
able to hit anything with it. I had a moment o f panic w hen he reached
the missing step, but he stepped over it and continued on up. I’d be in re
al trouble if George died because I broke the rules to save him.
George reached the top of the stairs and looked toward the door he’d
entered the building through. He started toward it, but then he heard
footsteps com ing from that direction. He ran th e other way, m aking
enough noise to guarantee they would know w here he was. He ran into
a larger room and ducked around the door. H e inched along the wall,
moving away from the door as the footsteps cam e closer. O ne of the kids
came into the room with his gun in front o f him. George pointed his gun
at the kid, who sensed or heard the motion and spun around to face him.
They were standing there in a nervous, shaking standoff when I real
ized that someone else was in the room. A n enemy. I looked around. “A l
varez,” I hissed.
He stepped out o f the shadows. “That’s right,” he replied calmly.
My mind raced. How important was McCall, anyway? To get Alvarez
h im self here? I reached toward the kid facing M cCall. N o, he hadn’t
been taken over by an enemy agent. It was ju st Alvarez and me and two
humans.
“W hat are you doing here?” I demanded.
“Sometimes you have to do things yourself,” he said. H e walked over
to the kid, whose eyes were as wide as M cCall’s. Alvarez looked at me
and whispered into the kid’s ear. The kid visibly calmed. I stepped to Mc
Call’s side. Alvarez or no Alvarez, I still had a m ission to carry out.
“Calm down,” I said. “You can win this.” M cCall didn’t quit shaking.
He was at a mental disadvantage here— he didn’t live w ith violence all
the time.
The kid steadied his gun. It was going down, and M cCall didn’t even
realize it. “Shoot! Shoot!” I shouted at him. He w ould probably miss, but
it might scare the kid off.
Alvarez smiled confidently at me. “Looks like you m ight finally lose
180 STU ART R . B A LL
one,” he said. H e turned to speak to the kid again, whose finger tight
ened on the trigger.
I grabbed the gun in M cC all’s hand and pulled the trigger. Quick,
quicker than lightning, quicker than any human reflex. I aimed the gun
at the kid’s heart. McCall jum ped as the gun roared, the concussion from
th e .357 deafening inside the concrete walls. George stared in amaze
m ent at the gun in his hand as his intended killer collapsed to the floor.
I sneered at Alvarez. “I win,” I said. “You lose.” I could hear the third
mugger, elsewhere in the building, running for the exit.
Alvarez was smiling. W hy? He had ju st lost a big one.
“A ctually” he replied, “I believe I win.”
“H ow ?” I asked. “M cCall is still alive. It’s almost eleven o’clock. You
don’t have anything left to try before then.”
He let go an evil chuckle. “McCall wasn’t the target. You were.”
“M e? You can’t kill me.”
“I didn’t w ant to kill you. I wanted to turn you. Now you ’re on our
side.”
“I am not!” I said fiercely. “I stopped you. I carried out my mission. Just
like I always do.”
‘Y ou committed m urder to do it. That makes you one o f us. The end
justifies the means, as the saying goes.”
“That doesn’t make m e one o f you.”
“O f course it does. You used the same methods we do. In fact, you’ve
killed one more person on this assignment than I have. How do you sup
pose this will affect M cCall’s life?”
“McCall will be fine,” I shouted. “And that kid was one o f yours! A killer.”
He gestured to the body on the floor. “First, he was one o f them. And
you killed him.”
“No! I’ll never be one o f you. Never.”
“You already are. Oh, it will take a while for you to actually switch
sides. But the issue isn’t in doubt. I’ve been watching you, and I know
how constricting you find those silly rules you have to follow. I know how
you bend the rules when you think nobody’s looking. It’s been getting a
little easier every time you do it, right?”
I said nothing.
Alvarez nodded. “That’s the way it always is. You break the rules just
a little at first, then m ore often and in bigger ways. You’re ready to come
over, you ju st needed a little push. A nd after today, they w on’t really
trust you any more. You’ll be an outcast. Eventually you’ll come around.
You’ve been their best. N ow you’ll be m y best. You know where to find
m e w hen it’s time.” He turned to go.
‘Y ou ’re wrong!” I shouted. “I’ll never turn.”
He didn’t turn around. “Welcome to the team,” he said.
U kulele and the W orld’s Pain
James Sallis
ure, I killed the son o f a hits. Or in this case, playing great
S bitch. I mean, what right did jazz and backup. You half-expected
he think he had, bursting a cigar stum p to be sticking out o f
out in laughter like that when Ihis
Miss Shelley out o f her case? I’m a
took
mouth there above the Gibson.
By contrast, the guy who thought
professional, too. I was getting scale Miss Shelley was so fanny was a
just like him. Fve paid my union dues real Bubba type with stringy hair,
and a lot more dues besides. glasses that kept sliding down his
It was a good date. Sonny Martin nose and getting pushed back up,
had made a name for himself in and white shoes with plastic buck
country music, and now he was do les most o f the gold paint had com e
ing what he’d been talking about off of. He played a fair guitar, but
for years, he was cutting a jazz al you know what? That’s not enough.
bum. I’d played on a couple of M ar Besides him, there was a drummer
tin sessions before. H e liked the who looked vaguely familiar and
freshness of the sound, I guess. And couldn’t have been more than nine
he knew that jazz was my first love, teen, the great, loose Morty Epstein
too. One tim e during a session on bass, and a pianist who gave us
break, I remember, I think this was the impression o f spending more
on bis album Longneck Love, we time in concert halls than with the
started goofing around on “Don’t likes o f us.
Get Around Much Anymore,” ju st We slammed around on a twelve-
the two o f us, and before we knew, bar shuffle ju st to start the thing
everybody else had picked his in running and get acquainted, and
strument back up and was playing that went well, with the guitar slid
along. ing in these little pulls, bends, and
Playing music’s not about m ak stumbling, broken runs way up
ing sounds, you know, it’s about lis high— Sonny’s guitar was so solid
tening. Everything unfolds out o f Bubba could float. But towards the
the first note, that first attack. end he left off that and, staying
Sonny always reminded me a lot high, started strum m ing on ju s t
o f the great George Barnes, ju st two or three strings, looking over at
this plain, balding, fat guy with a me.
Barcalounger and two or three Sonny called “Sweet G eorgia
cheap suits at home doing his job, Brown” and we worked it through
only his job happened to be, instead a time or two by ear, kind o f clang
o f working as an auto mechanic or ing and dunking along, then Sonny
Sears salesman, recording country had the guitar player scribble out
181
182 J A M E S S A L L IS
some quick charts. I got mine and resonator ukes. Briefly, banjo
we started running it, and a line or ukuleles came into favor. Other
two in, looking ahead, I can see it’s variations include the somewhat
wrong. So I ju s t played right on larger taropatch, an eight-string
past it, grinning at the guitar play uke o f paired strings, and the tiple,
er the whole time. As w e started whose two outer courses o f steel
winding down, Sonny nodded me in strings are doubled, with an addi
for a solo. I took a chorus and it tional third string added to the two
was pretty hot and he signalled for inner courses and tuned an octave
another and that one w as steam lower. Mario Maccaferri, the man
ing, and then we all took o ff again. who designed the great Django
I looked over and the piano man’s Reinhardt’s guitar, after losing half
staring at me, shaking his head, a million or so with plastic guitars
fingers going on about their busi no one would buy, recouped with
ness there below. Looks like he just sale o f some nine million plastic
ate a cat. ukes. And the players! The ever-
Next we worked up a head ver amazing Roy Smeck. C liff Ed
sion o f a slow, ballady blues, then wards, known as Ukulele Ike. Or
put some time in on jam m in g’Take Lyle Ritz.Trained on violin, he was
the A Train” and “Lulu’s Back in a top studio bass player in the 60s
Town.” Again Bubba threw some and 70s and turned out three as
charts together and again mine tonishing albums of straight-ahead
was wrong— w ildly w ron g this jazz ukulele.
time. He did everything but hop We worked through what we had
keys on me. I don’t know, maybe again, then broke for lunch. Morty
his mother was frightened by some and I grabbed hot dogs at the taco
Hawaiian when he was in there in stand by the park across the street
the womb growing that greasy hair and sat on a bench catching up.
and trying on those w hite shoes. The fountain was clogged with food
That’s where Miss Shelley and wrappers, leaves, and cigarette
her kin came from— you all know butts, as usual. Kids in swings were
that. But you probably don’t know shoved screaming towards the sky.
m uch more. T hat it em erged Old men sat on benches tossing
around 1877, most likely as a de stale bread at pigeons. Morty’s son
rivative o f a four-string folk guitar, had just started college all the way
the m achada or m achete, intro up in Iowa, he told me, studying
duced to the islands by the Portu physical chemistry, whatever that
guese. Or how it hitched a ride back was. Better be looking for more
to the U.S. with returning sailors gigs, I said. He shook his head.
and soldiers. Martin started sell D on’t I know it, he said. D on’t I
ing them in 1916; Gibson, Regal, know it. I told Morty I had a quick
Vega, Harmony, and K ay all offered errand that couldn’t wait, I’d see
standard to prem iu m models him inside.
alongside their guitars, banjos, and Well, we got back from lunch
mandolins. National manufactured break, as you know, everybody but
U K U LE LE A N D T H E W O R L D ’S P A IN 183
the guitar player, and after we wait phy. He’s called in to overdub on a
a while and drink up a pot of coffee session. Brings all his instruments
Sonny says: Anybody see Walt out along. H e listens to the tape and
there? But none o f us know him, o f what he does is, he adds this single
course, and who’d want to look at note, on bass clarinet, right at the
that greasy hair while he was eat end. That’s it. He collects sale for
ing? the session, puts his hom back in
So we— Sonny, I should say— fi the case, a nd goes home. But w hat
nally called the session off shut it he did there, what that one note
down. And I do regret that. Some fine was, was Dolphy finding his holy
music was this close to being cut. moment, y ou know? That’s w hat
Can I tell you one more thing be we’re all looking for, what we go on
fore we go? looking for, that single holy m o
There’s this story about Eric Dol- ment, all o u r fives.
SOLUTION TO THE JUNE “UNSOLVED”:
The author with inside inform ation on the robbery is Flora Davis.
ROYALTY AUTHOR HUSBAND HOME

$150 Flora Davis M ik e P rin ce G eorge
$250 H eidi Arbor L ev i R egina
$325 Jenny Cruze O scar S u dbu ry
$425 G reta Engel N ed Q uebec
$500 Ida B aker K a rl Toronto
A V ery Special Group
W illiam T. Lowe
u
W e ll bottle up the
orch a rd w h ere
h e’s hiding and
go in and get him,” the D E A agent
said. “It may take a couple o f days,
m inute and every pair o f hands
counts.
“There are over two hundred
Jam aicans over there right now
working twelve hours a day to get
but w e’ll get him.” those McIntosh apples in. You can’t
“No,” I said. go charging in there with a detail o f
The agent was surprised. “Look, men and stop the work to look for
I know it’s a mighty big place, but this man.”
we’ve got the manpower. The state Adler was frowning. “Did you say
police will help, the Border Patrol, Jamaicans?”
the sh eriff. . . ” ‘Yes. They come up every year.
“No,” I said again. The growers in Essex and Clinton
The agent, Bliss Adler was his counties couldn’t harvest their
name, appeared on my porch one crops without them.”
sultry Septem ber afternoon. He Alder’s frown deepened. “What’s
was all ready to start a big man the problem?” I asked him.
hunt for a drug dealer but his chief, “This suspect we’re after. He’s a
Ted Mulholland, had told him to black man from Colombia.”
check with me first. I was a deputy It was my turn to frown. This
in this county o f northern N ew was a complication. A foreign black
York before I retired, and Ted and man hiding among two hundred
I w orked m ore than a few drug other foreign black men.
cases together. “Have you got a picture o f this
Adler wanted me to agree with Colombian?” I asked.
his plan. “Look, Mr. Sessions, this “No, but we’ll get one,” he an
m an h iding in the orchard isn’t swered. Another complication, I
you r ordinary pusher. H e’s a couri told myself.
er for a big narcotics network over “How did this man get here?”
seas. W hy can’t we go in and shake Bliss took a deep breath. “Here’s
the place down until we find him?” what happened: We’ve known that
I leaned forward and spoke as a top level meeting between two
earnestly as I could. “Because this narcotics distributors was going to
is harvest time. The apples are ripe take place sometime soon, in or
now and need to be picked now.” I around Plattsburgh. Yesterday the
paused to be sure he was listening. Border Patrol got a tip that an ille
“A whole year’s work is riding on gal alien had sneaked across the
about three short weeks. Every border at Champlain and was
184
A V E R Y S P E C IA L G R O U P 185
holed up in one o f the motels out er. A city man, uncomfortable out of
side Keeseville, waiting to meet an sight o f sidewalks and streetlights.
other dealer. “Captain Mulholland says this
“Our office planned a joint effort Colombian is a key player and it’s
with the Patrol and staked out the im portant to nail him quick. He
place, waiting for the second sub wasn’t happy when he heard he got
ject. Our man— we now.know his away from us.”
nam e is N avad Sabella—must “W hat m akes this m an so im
have seen som ething that made portant?”
him suspicious. Bliss sat down again. “W hen he
“H e had a car and he took off took off from the motel he dropped
down Route 22 toward Peru. A cou a small bag. There was five thou
ple o f agents followed him. We had sand in cash— his walking-around
a state police car cruising just this money— and twelve pounds o f a
side o f Peru; we radioed them that new narcotic called Khat.”
the alien was headed their way. He stopped and looked a t me. I
“Anyway, Sabella saw he was be nodded. “I’ve heard o f it,” I said.
ing boxed in. He was passing the “Originally from Africa, isn’t it?”
north side o f the orchard; he “Right. It’s grown on bushes, not
ditched the car and took off into cooked u p in a lab. Khat is popular
the trees. The agents following him as hell in parts o f Europe, a big fa
got a quick look at him before he vorite with young people.”
disappeared. Th ey say he was There had to be more to the sto-
dressed in sports clothes, a bit un iy. “Is this the first time the DEA
der six feet, maybe one seventy. No has seen Khat?”
weapons visible. Bliss shook his head. “The agency
“Maybe he knew about the Ja has intercepted shipm ents from
maicans being there, or maybe he Europe at Dulles Airport in Wash
saw some o f them at work. Maybe ington and Kennedy in N ew York.
he thought he could use them as a Now we think distributors w ant to
shield.” Adler stopped and looked at bring it dow n from Canada.” He
me. “Mr. Sessions, is it possible for paused a minute. “It would be an
him to stay hidden out there in the other step-up drug, like ecstasy.”
orchards?” All we need, I thought. Kids al
I had been thinking about that. ways try som ething new, get
“Call me Hank. Yes, it’s possible,” I hooked, then step up to the hard
answered. “He’s black. H e can steal stuff like heroin or crack.
food from the dining room, steal “Anyway,” Bliss went on, “our
clothes from one o f the dormitories. man m ust have contacts in Albany
There’s a thousand acres to keep or Syracuse or N ew York. W e think
out o f sight in. He might get lucky.” he’ll phone somebody to com e and
Bliss stood up and began pacing. pick him up. He may have a cell
He was in his mid forties, running phone on him or find a pay phone.
to overweight, with a crewcut that All he has to do is stay out o f sight
didn’t make him look a bit young and wait.”
186 W IL L IA M T. L O W E
He looked at me. “You think may twelve feet tall, with thick, wide
be we can get our hands on him spread branches.
first, Hank?” “They’re pruned to grow that
The sun was going down behind way,” I told him, “makes it easier to
the ridge across the fields and there reach the fruit at picking time.”
was the faintest hint o f a breeze. I had used the car phone to say
“Maybe,” I said. I stood up and we were coming, hoping to see Fos
put on m y hat. “Let’s go talk to Fos ter Burroughs, president o f the cor
ter Burroughs.” poration. I knew his office was on
the second floor at the rear o f one o f
We took my car. Bliss offered to the buildings. 1 led the way inside.
follow m e in his but I wanted to On a balcony, 1 stopped to let Bliss
show him how extensive the Bur see the activity on the floor below.
roughs orchards are. O f the twenty A dozen conveyor belts carried ap
or so apple orchards around here ples through electronic sensors that
it’s one o f the largest. A s a teenag sorted the fruit for size and color
er I worked for the Burroughs a and grade. Some two dozen women
summer or two. handled the packaging in colorful
I bypassed the little town o f boxes.
Fountain and turned north on Dry The office is small, furnished
Bridge Road. We w en t around with only the bare necessities.
Arnold Hill with its Civil War iron There’s a desk, a telephone, a few
mines. I pointed out the ancient chairs. The sales department and a
Quaker cemetery, said to be the old staff of accountants are in town,
est in the state. with all the computers and hard
Then, outside Keeseville, we be ware they need. Out here nothing
gan driving through the Burroughs interferes with the business o f
orchards, section after section o f growing McIntosh apples.
mature trees and young trees, or On one wall was a large map o f
derly rows stretching to the horizon the area with the company’s hold
in every direction. The center o f the ings outlined, som ething over
operation is two huge warehouses, twelve hundred acres. A tiny
each o f which could swallow a cou square towards the center marked
ple o f basketball courts. The apples the original Burroughs orchard,
are brought here for processing. eight acres painstakingly cleared
They are kept in storage room s by hand.
where temperature and humidity In 1836, the first Mr. Burroughs
are precisely controlled. Then they harvested the initial crop o f juicy
are sorted, graded, and packaged. red apples. That same year on the
The arom a o f ripe apples was army base outside Plattsburgh a
heavy in the air. A t the edge o f the stone barracks was built to replace
parking lot were rows o f mature log huts. Later, that same building
trees. Bliss had never seen apple was to house a young lieutenant
trees close up. He was surprised named Ulysses S. Grant after he
they w ere no m ore th an ten or graduated from West Point.
Foster w as waiting for us. A t trol may tell Immigration. Or some

over sixty he is energetic, deeply body on a newspaper may . . . ”
tanned, given to quick, hurried “All right, all right!” Foster waved
movements. He knows me and his hand. “You both understand
knows I wouldn’t ask to see him at that the Jamaicans are on the or
this time o f year if it weren’t im chards here by specific federal au
portant. thority Any publicity could be se
Bliss told him about the alien. verely damaging.”
Foster didn’t like the idea o f a He stood up. “Hank, you know
drug dealer on his property. my situation here. Can you give m e
Strangers in the groves were a some time on this thing?” I nodded.
constant problem, especially now “G ood.” He turned to Bliss. “Mr.
when the apples were ripe. People Adler, we’ll do what we can to help
would ignore the No Trespassing you.”
signs and blithely help th em Foster shook hands with us and
selves. T heir attitude was, “N o was gone. Bliss looked at me and
body will miss a few apples.” But smiled. “We’re on first base. W hat’s
the notion o f a drug dealer wan next?”
dering around loose was not to be “Next we talk to a friend o f mine.”
tolerated.
“This man, this fugitive, you have “The man we’re going out here to
a picture o f him?” he asked Bliss. find is E dw ardo M artin,” I told
“No, sir. One is being sent from Bliss. We were walking down a trail
Washington.” betw een rows o f m ature trees
“Is he considered dangerous?” loaded with fruit. “I met him eigh
“No, sir. He’s not known to be vi teen years ago when he first came
olent.” up here to work and I loaned him
Bliss tried to be reassuring, but my bicycle.”
put his foot in his mouth. “We can “Eighteen yearn?”
get all the manpower we need, sir,” ‘Yes. Some o f the men have been
he said, “the state police, the Border com ing up from Jamaica for twen
Patrol, the s h e riff...” ty years. Look, Bliss, these men are
Foster was shaking his head. not your ordinary migrant w ork
“No! I won’t have it!” He turned to ers. They’re recruited on the island
me. “Hank, will you explain that by agents o f the orchard owners.
we simply cannot interrupt the They’re fingerprinted, checked for
w ork...” crim inal records. Th ey’re given
“I will, Foster.” I waited a m o physicals, even tested for AIDS.
ment until he seemed to relax a Th ey’re flow n to Florida, then
bit. “The thing is,” I began, “this bused up here.
man is in the international drug “T h e men are welcome in town.
business. He has a record with the The stores stock items they like.
DEA. We don’t know who else They go to church. A t the end o f
knows about his being h e r e . . . ” the season, they put on a program
Bliss chimed in. “The Border Pa o f island music.
188 W IL L I A M T. L O W E
“They work very hard but they’re “Could he have been from sm
well treated, well cared for. The new other team?”
m en take lessons in how to pick ap “No, he not wearing boots like all
ples . . . ” o f us. I think maybe he kitchen
Bliss gave me the skeptical look worker or from delivery truck.”
o f a city man who thinks h e’s being I told Edwardo to keep his eyes
fed a tall tale by a country person. open and to tell Mr. Burroughs or
“Yes,” I said, “there is a correct call me if the man was seen again.
way.” I held up my hand, fingers “We want to take him away,” I ex
holding an invisible apple. ‘Y ou plained. Edwardo had my hom e
don’t twist. You don’t pull. You lift phone number. When we turned to
gently, got it?” leave, Edwardo smiled and shook
Bliss nodded slowly. “I’ll take hands. To Bliss he said, “Pleasant
your word for it.” day, sir.”
The afternoon sun was warm on Bliss was in a hurry to get back
m y back as we walked along. U su to the office. “Our man is here all
ally, the sight o f shiny red apples right,” he said. “I’ve got some calls
against a royal blue sky takes my to make. By the way, what was that
breath away, but, today the beauty you said earlier about lending Ed
was lost on me. 1 was hoping the in wardo a bicycle?”
truder was long gone by now, that I explained it as we walked back
he was miles away. I could see trou to headquarters. Actually, it was a
ble ahead if he was still here. simple gesture. These men work
Even for a Jamaican, Edwardo hard, but on their days off they 1ike
was a big man. over six feet tall, to go shopping for their families
close to two hundred pounds. Black back home; gifts for the wives, toys
skin, skimpy brown hair, heavy fea for the children, small appliances
tures. He was dressed in the unof for the house. It’s a long walk to
ficial uniform o f a long-sleeved the stores in Peru, much longer to
sh ill, work pants, rubber boots. the shopping centers in Platts
Edwardo and his team worked burgh. The men can hitchhike, and
quietly, efficiently. The apples were the townspeople are glad to give
placed in buckets attached to long them a lift, but the loan o f a bicycle
canvas sleeves. W hen filled, the is mighty welcome.
sleeves were emptied into wooden
crates for transport. Foster’s office would be Bliss’s
I introduced Bliss as my friend command post. An agent from the
and then I said, “Edwardo, there Border Patrol and an investigator
m ay be a strange m an, a black from the state police1arrived, offer
man, in the orchard without Mr. ing to help. M ulholland’s office
Burroughs’ permission.” passed on some details. The alien
He nodded. “Is possible. This af Sabella was forty-two, spoke Eng
ternoon I see one m on I do not lish fairly well, a natty dresser,
know. I call to him but he goes be above average intelligence. A pho
hind row.” to had been located and would be
A VE R Y S P E C IA L G R O U P 189
faxed to a machine in town and de Lucky Luciano y o u ’re after. He’s
livered by hand later tonight. Ob ju st a nother pusher with a new
viously, any manhunt would have drug to sell. You’ll have another
to wait until it was on hand. ch a n ce. . . ”
Bliss and the other men were at The phone rang. Bliss answered
the desk, manning their phones. it and then handed it to me. Ted
They were positive the Colombian Mulholland was on the line.
was somewhere in the orchards, “How does it look up there,
waiting for someone to come and Hank?”
pick him up. “N ot good, Ted. This is harvest
“It figures, Hank.” Bliss was time; the apples have to be picked
keyed up; sweat glistened on his now. It will take a hell of a lot o f
broad face. “W here’s he going to m anpower to comb these orchards,
go? He’s got little or no money, he and cost too much downtime from
doesn’t know this area, it would be the work. Besides, the guy may be
too risky to steal a car. He’s staying long gone by tomorrow.”
out o f sight, but he’s here.” “I know, Hank, but we’ve got to
Bliss wanted to capture the man give it a shot. This is not your ordi
as soon as possible. He was think nary mule. H e’s got names and de
ing o f armed men in riot gear tails o f a syndicate we want to nail.”
sweeping through the trees, loud I know Ted, and when he says
speakers blaring, maybe even a he som ething is im portant you can
licopter overhead. Nailing an in take it to the bank. “Maybe you and
ternational drug figure might even Bliss will get lucky,” Ted went on.
put a letter o f commendation in his “Ill hold the Immigration boys off
file. as long as I can. They don’t like the
In time and money, his plan idea o f an alien wandering around
would be as damaging to the Bur loose up there, especially if the
roughs Orchards as a late-summer press gets hold o f i t . . . ”
hailstorm. I tried to talk him back The state police investigator talk
down to earth. “Bliss, I know these ing on his cell phone was making
Jamaicans. I know how they talk, “H ang up” signs at me.
how they act. Beside them this “Call you later, Ted,” I said, and
Colom bian will stand out like a put down the phone.
Holstein at a horse show . . . ” “There’s been a break-in at a
“Make your point, Hank,” he said store about a mile down the road,”
impatiently. the officer said, “and the suspect is
“Let me get some people I know. a black m an!”
We’ll stake out the kitchens, the That brought instant silence in
dormitories. Strictly low-key. We the room. “Go on,” I said.
won’t interfere with the work. W ell “It’s Carter’s seed and feed store.
spot him pretty quick if he’s still A local m an was comi ng home from
h e r e .. work; he passed the store, saw a
He was shaking his head. I got light on, knew the store is always
steam ed. “Look, Bliss, this isn’t closed after five. H e slowed down
190 W IL L IA M T. L O W E
and stopped and w hen he did he looked like a tonsorial mistake. He

saw a man run away from the side is a young man but com pletely
o f the building. bald. He wears a handlebar mus
“He went to a phone and called tache at least eight inches from
the owner, and the ow ner called waxed tip to waxed tip.
us.” He paused. “H e’s sure the man He stood behind the counter near
he saw was black.” his cash register. The cash drawer
Bliss turned to me. “I guess our was open; he had been told not to
m an is m aking a run for it.” He touch it until a fingerprint techni
looked disappointed. cian had gone over it.
“Yeah, maybe w e ju st got lucky” “H ow m uch is missing, Mr.
I said, thinking o f Foster and the Carter?” asked Ben.
apple harvest. “Let’s go check out “Just twenty bucks and change.”
the store.” Carter looked at Bliss and me. “I al
Outside, the sun was gone but ways leave a twenty in the box,” he
there was plenty o f daylight left explained. “Give the guy something
and the air was noticeably cooler. for his trouble. Otherwise he might
The Jamaicans would work anoth get mad and trash the place.”
er three hours before going to din “Makes sense,” I told him.
ner. Their own cooks would serve “The bastard must be traveling
up soup, pork or chicken and rice, light,” Carter said and pointed at
and the ever-present green tea. one o f the saddles. “That there’s a
We arrived at Carter’s store in four hundred dollar saddle. He
about ten minutes. A big frame could have taken it and sold it for
building, painted barn red, the fifty, easy.”
store supplies feeds to nearby dairy Bliss pointed at the phone on the
farms and horse stables. There’s al wall behind the counter. “Could be
so a line o f seeds and fertilizer. our man broke in just to use the
A state trooper I know named phone.” To Ben he asked, “Can you
Benson Stewart was on the scene. find out if any calls were made from
“John Carter is inside,” he told us. here after five o’clock?’
“N ot too upset by what happened; Ben frowned. “Can do, but it’ll
he’s been broken into before a time take time.”
or two.” Ben led the w ay inside. “Let’s do it,” Bliss said. “Maybe
A long counter held a rack o f m y office can help.” H e walked to
books on h orsem anship and big ward a door in the rear o f the room.
containers o f dog treats. The walls “What’s back here?”
w ere lined w ith pictures o f local “Stockroom,” Carter told him. He
4-H C lu b m em b ers a n d p rize opened the door and turned on the
w in n in g horses and cattle. Toward lights.
the rear were displays o f very at It was a big room with a floor o f
tractive riding apparel. There were rough planking and bare walls. We
a few beautiful saddles, both Eng walked in between stacks o f fifty-
lish and Western. pound bags o f various feeds and
To me, John C arter always cases o f canned pet food. To our
right, double doors would open on right, that the alien had eluded
to the loading dock. A two-wheeled him. “I think w e’re done here,” he
hand truck stood in a comer. said. “Officer Stewart, can you lo
“This is funny” Carter exclaimed. cate the man who saw this?”
He pointed to a couple o f hooks on “No sweat. H e lives here in Peru.
an upright beam. “I always keep We told him to stay home.”
some old clothes here,” he told us, Bliss nodded. “Could you have
“to wear when I’m putting up stock someone bring him to the orchard
or unloading a delivery. An old so we can talk with him?”
army shirt, blue jeans. They’re The witness was glad to repeat
gone.” his story to Bliss and me and the
I looked at Bliss; I could tell what other officers. He had a good look at
he was thinking. Our alien is about the man running away.
the same size as John Carter. “W hat was this man wearing?”
‘Til take a look outside,” I offered. Bliss asked.
“Already did, Hank,” Ben said. “Ordinary work clothes.”
“Driveway and parking space all “And you’re sure he was a black
gravel. Couldn’t find any tracks.” man?”
“I’ll look anyway. Could use “Positive.”
some fresh air.” I left by the front “Our man,” Bliss told us, “he’s on
door and walked around the build the move.”
ing. I knew by now the state police “Maybe,” I said. “Maybe not.”
and other agencies had been alert
ed to watch for a black man wear I could tell Bliss was disappoint
ing old clothes. Last seen west o f ed, but he kept it to himself. He
Pern on Route 22. Precious little to told the oth er officers that the
go on. Colombian must have come out o f
Bliss thought the alien did the the orchard, walked down the high
break-in and robbery. I wasn’t so way, happened on the store, broke
sure; there was one more card to in, used the phone, took the money
play. I went back inside and button and the old clothes. The car stop
holed Ben. ping outside alarmed him; he ran
“I’ve seen work crews clearing out the back and disappeared.
brush along Route 9 the last day or I tried to shoot holes in that scen
so,” I said. Work crew consisted o f in ario. “We know that Sabella is a
mates from nearby prisons detailed con man, a snappy dresser; Wash
to do outside work, under guard, o f ington gave us that. If he wanted a
course. “Ben, ask your dispatcher if change of clothes, why did he take
any place reported an escapee.” those old things o f Carter’s? W hy
“I checked on that just before you not some o f those nice new clothes
got here. Hank,” Ben said. “No dice. out front? Some were his size and
Neither Dannemora or Adirondack he would look a lot better.”
or Lyon Mountain is missing a pris “Maybe he wanted to be incon
oner. Good idea, though.” spicuous.”
That convinced Bliss he was “You don’t know this area. The
192 W IL L I A M T. L O W E
fastest way to get picked up is to roads. Men with loudspeakers

look like a bum.” would patrol the orchard, calling
“H e doesn’t know that. A nd the on the alien to surrender.
main idea was to use th e phone.” W hen he got to the part that
“There’s phones here at the or called for trained dogs to be on
chard, outside the dining rooms.” standby in case they were needed
“M aybe he did n ’t w a n t to be for tracking, I gave up and went
seen.” To end the argument, Bliss home.
turned away and picked up his
phone. A new moon floated above the
“I think he’s still here,” I said, but horizon, a bright shining crescent,
nobody was listening. what the poet called “a chin o f gold.”
I drove slowly, hying to think calmly.
Someone brought in containers Bliss Adler would never be on
o f stew and coffee from one o f the my Christmas card list, but we did
kitchens, and two cots had been set have one thing in common. We both
up against one wall. We would wait wanted to see the alien drug deal
for news o f the fugitive. The long er caught and out o f circulation.
twilight had faded into dark night And I wanted a message sent back
when the phone rang for me. to his syndicate in Haiti or South
It was Ben Stewart. “We just got America or wherever that this part
this report, Hank. You know Thorn o f New York would be a bad place
hill, that boot camp facility for first to peddle Khat or any o f the other
offenders over past Bloomingdale? poisons.
One o f their you n g gentlem en I knew the pusher’s spiel by
walked away two days ago. G ot heart. “Look, kid, no needles, no
away clean.” HIV. Safe, and everyb ody says
He paused. “N ow get this, Hank. it’s the w orld’s b est high. Cheap,
They caught the guy an hour ago, too . . . ”
and he admitted he did the break- Possessing with intent to sell is a
in at Carter’s store. You’re back in felony. I’ve arrested more than a
business, H ank___ ” few pushers around schools and on
“Thanks, Ben, thanks.” the streets, som etim es handing
Right away I told Bliss that for them a contusion or two to mark
all we knew his alien was still in the end o f their careers in narcotics.
the orchard. Bliss w as energized. I
sat there and listened to him go At home I took something to eat
over his plans again. out of the freezer and put it in the
A t first light a force o f men would microwave. I was opening a can o f
be assembled and confine the Ja dog food for Skipper w hen the
maicans to their dormitories. The phone rang. I was sure it would be
kitchen would be cordoned off but Bliss, but it wasn’t.
meal preparation would be allowed “This is Daniel,” the lilting voice
to continue. Troop cars would be o f a Jamaican native said, “Edwar-
stationed along the main service do’s friend. He say you please come
to Cortland house and bring your W hen w e approached, the m an

Mr. Adler. He has something for looked u p hopefully. He saw w e
you to see.” were strangers and looked dow n
“B e right there,” I answered. I again, a discouraged expression on
shut o ff the oven, turned off the h is face. H e was about forty,
light, and got back in my car. dressed in expensive-looking casu
I was lucky I didn’t get a ticket al clothes.
driving back to the orchard. I used Bliss took my arm. “That’s him,”
the car phone to tell Bliss to meet he whispered. “We got his picture a
m e at the entrance, and by himself. few minutes ago.”
Daniel was waiting for us at the Edwardo went on. “The mon has
gate. Foster had kindly given Bliss no name paper like we do. A nd he
the use o f a jeep, and Daniel di not from ’Maica; he not know who
rected me down trails between is governor now in Kingston.”
dark rows o f trees. Bliss sat in si Edwardo looked at Bliss and me,
lence, keeping his comments to a small grin on his broad face. “May
himself. be you like to take him with you?”
T h e dormitories in the B u r “Yes, Edwardo,” I answered. “Yes,
rou ghs orchards are perm anent w e would.”
cin der block buildings, and are “W e w ou ld,” Bliss said, “and
nam ed for different varieties o f ap thank you.”
ples, Cortland, Empire, Spartan, Thirty m inutes later the alien
and so on. had been brought back to the ware
They have large sleeping areas house, transferred to a state police
with single beds for the men, sepa car, and taken to the Clinton Coun
rate lockers, bathrooms, a gam e ty jail. P hone calls had been made
room. Daniel escorted us through a to various offices, including Ted
rec room where some men were M ulholland’s. Foster was pleased;
playing dominoes and back to the the work would not be interrupted
shower room. and the weather was holding good.
Edwardo stepped over to greet H is heart was set on surpassing
us. H e pointed to a com er where a last year’s record o f four hundred
black man sat in a straight chair. thousand bushels.
The man was not bound, but sur Bliss looked at m e and grinned.
rounded by large men who had per “You’re righ t, H ank, those Ja
suaded him to sit quietly and not maicans are something special.”
try to leave. ‘Y es, th e y are.” That was the
“This mon is not one o f us,” Ed opening I was waiting for. “Bliss,
wardo said. “We see him take food would you r expense account cover
from the dining room. He try to tell a couple o f new bicycles for Edwar-
us he is from Department of Health do’s team ?”
dow n on island, come to see if we “Sure thing, partner. I already
are all well and comfortable.” thought o f that.”
W hat the C hairm an Says
C raig V. Eister
u
W ho do you think
we should get rid
of?”
Richter sits on the opposite side
o f the table and stares me down
I don’t think we should touch the
worker base. They are our key to
that profit. So perhaps we ought to
target the overhead.”
I hold my breath.
w ith his deep, penetrating eyes. “I’ve thought about that myself,”
The curtains are open, but a m en Richter replies. “What about you?”
acing thunderstorm surrounds the The rain begins to tap on the
city and turns the board room windows as I squirm. Is the room
slightly sinister. getting warmer? How do I get my
“Pardon me, sir?” I ask hesitant self out o f this?
ly- You started down the road. Keep
I am already nervous about my going.
meeting wi th the chairman, having ‘Well, I believe I am vital to drive
spen t days poring over budget our Internet business forward, sir.
num bers and project plans. I am I was thinking more o f the VP lev
ju st a manager for the firm, and el,” I say.
can only speculate wildly about the Richter begins tapping his fin
secret dealings that go on at exec gertips together. “Go on,” he com
utive level. Just how far will they go mands.
to make this company successful? “My boss, Martine Miller, for ex
“It’s sim ple, Jensen,” Richter ample. The Internet project could
says, leaning back in his enormous continue successfully in a matrix
leather chair. “We posted a loss for reporting relationship.”
the first quarter and projections It is perhaps bold and stupid. But
aren’t good. We’ve got to cut costs after a year o f inane management,
around here. I want your candid nonexistent support, and ridiculous
opinion on who the dead weight is.” requests, Martine has pushed me
He leans forward and begins tap to the edge. The stifling room, im
ping his open palm on the solidly pending storm, and aura o f inside
built oak table. The sound rever deal-making urge me on. I feel the
berates throughout the room and need to be powerful. To be mighty.
echoes in my head. To be wicked.
Taking a deep breath, I decide to Richter swivels his chair and
go for broke. crosses his legs casually, staring out
‘W ell, sir, I think we need to focus the window.
on successfully completing key ini “I see what you mean, Jensen.”
tiatives to drive forward our profit. Does he? Nail it home.
194
W H A T T H E C H A IR M A N S A Y S 195
“I have no desire to sabotage any this presentation to Richter. But I

one, sir” I lie. “B ut as the chairman cannot be aggressive. A fter all, she
o f the company, I’m sure you ap will be speaking with Richter to
preciate solid input on what is real morrow as well. Just w hat might
ly going on.” she be plotting to say about me?
Richter turns back to face me. ‘W h o is Blake Adams?” she asks,
“You know, Jensen, I’ve considered crossing her legs. I glance at the
Martine for a while now. I’ve al spike heel on her shoe and imagine
ways thought she was a cross be her driving it through m y chest, or
tween a simpering kiss ass and a kicking m e backwards through the
vengeful bitch.” glass.
“H e’s one o f my employees,” I re
Daydreaming isn’t going to get ply cautiously. ‘H e ’s working on the
me anywhere. In front o f me, my architectural design o f the custom
desk is covered with reports that I er database.”
need in order to prepare for my I feel nervous. H adn’t Jack, a
meeting with Chairman Richter to friend o f mine in H.R., asked me
morrow. I have only barely begun the sam e question last week?
m y presentation. “How long has he been here?”
B ob R ich ter foun ded E arth “About tw o months,” I say.
Bang! two years ago, as an on-line A n oth er sharp knock hits the
supplier o f environmentally friend door, and I jum p. I open it, and Bill
ly products. Our website is opera Marsh, director o f technical staffing
tional, but it is m y job to drive the in H um an Resources, enters.
technology forward. With business “Ah, M artine, you are already
waning, Richter called meetings here. Good,” Bill says.
with several o f the firm’s managers Bill sits next to Martine, and I re
to understand their goals and, more turn to m y seat filled w ith fear.
important, their budgets. “B lake A dam s w orks for you,
Quite simply, I have to demon Chad, does he not?” Bill asks.
strate m y worth tomorrow. “Yes h e does,” I reply.
I start to look at the budget line “Well, we’ve got to get rid o f him.”
by line when an abrupt rap on the “W hat?” I ask incredulously.
door startles me. Before I can re “We’ve gotten several reference
spond, Martine Miller enters my checks back indicating that he fal
office, closes the door behind her, sified his application in at least
and plants herself in front o f me three places. It clearly states in our
with her arms crossed. policies th a t any falsification is
“We’ve got a problem,” she blurts grounds for dismissal.”
out in an annoyed tone. Bill is all business and I stare in
“Oh?” I say innocently. Whatever fascination at what is unfolding be
this problem is, I know it will soon fore me.
be mine. I don’t have time to deal “ I t h o u g h t r e fe r e n c e ch e ck s
with any crap, especially since I am were done before the hire,” Martine
under such a tight deadline with snaps.
196 C R A I G V. E IS T E R
“Well, w e got some o f them back capabilities? Especially with this

early,” B ill says, turning toward Blake Adams fiasco.”
Martine. “Early references looked The rain is com ing down in
fine and there was such a rush to sheets now. Framed in the window,
get this position filled th at we Richter looks like an ominous judge
moved forward. But upon further passing sentence on me in the mid
investigation we noticed som e sus dle o f a tempest. I have to get my
picious entries on the form and self out of this mess!
looked into it. A s it turns out, it’s “H e falsified his application, Mr.
lucky that we did.” Richter,” I say calmly.
So that’s what Jack had been do “But weren’t you the one who
ing. He was checking into Blake pushed to hire him so soon? W hy
Adams. didn’t we w ait till all the checks
“Didn’t you check this guy out?” were completed?”
Martine demands o f me. I breathe deeply. D on’t get de
“I interviewed him. Technically fensive.
he was great,” I reply. “I had no idea “Because this project is in real
that there w as a problem in his jeopardy,” I say. “Our website is be
past.” hind the times and I’m convinced
“D am n it,” Martine says, running it’s a major source o f our lagging
her hands through her hair. business.”
“We need to terminate him and Richter stares back at me stern
walk him out o f the building. I’ll do ly. “And this Adams guy is our sole
it, and Martine, you should be there savior? I find that hard to believe.”
as a backup. Chad, I think it’s best “It’s a difficult skill set. We had to
that you stay clear. It is m y experi find someone who was knowledge
ence th a t em ployees tend to get able about database design, Inter
hostile toward their direct supervi net and web technology, and who
sors in situations like this. Let’s get also knew how to interface this
this over with.” with everything else, like our fi
Bill and Martine stand up and nancial systems. A resource like
make their w ay for the door. M ar that is hard to find, and he had the
tine pauses. perfect credentials. If we waited too
“This really screws things up for long, I was afraid we’d lose him and
tom orrow. You’d better do som e jeopardize the project further.”
quick thinking to explain to Richter Richter looks more and more an
how w e’re going to avoid being de noyed. He stands and moves over to
layed by this. And it better be good,” a small side table where a pitcher of
W ith m y elbows on the desk and water rests. I look at it longingly,
head in my hands, I close my eyes but Richter pours him self a glass
and begin to rub m y temples. and continues with his questioning.
“So you’re telling m e that a crit
“I understand what you’re saying ical technical project is in such a
about Martine,” Richter continues. tenuous situation? I can’t believe
“B ut what about your managerial this is our only option.”
Here we go. The heart o f the mat “Good luck, my friend. I f I hear
ter. anything, Til let you know,” Jack
“Sir, I proposed to Martine that says.
our best shot at quick, thorough, “Thanks, Jack.”
and successful implementation was Hanging up, I know I have to face
using a third-party vendor. I got a the inevitable and head for Mar-
couple o f proposals from M yriad tine’s office. She will no doubt be in
Technology and Daniel Blank Pro a foul mood. This is going to give
ductions, and they were willing to her the perfect excuse to cast m e in
significantly reduce their charges a bad light in front o f Richter, and
in exchange for some advertising I wonder just how determined M ar
on our site. But Martine was dead tine will be to make this my fault.
set on an in-house development. To She is in her office eating a salad
me, it was a huge risk.” when I poke my head in.
Richter sits down and folds his “Got a sec?” I ask tentatively.
arms across his chest. Martine glares at me, and m o
“So what do we do now?” he asks tions me into the office. I close the
thoughtfully. door behind me as she carefully
wipes her lips with a paper napkin.
What do we do now? “He claims that there was no de
The thought o f facing Richter to liberate falsification, but he felt
morrow is making me more and rushed when he filled out the form
more tense. I have to refocus and and simply made some mistakes,”
plan. But after several hours and she says.
no word from either Bill Marsh or “Well, so it is all just a misun
Martine on the Blake Adams en derstanding,” I say calmly, trying
counter, I can no longer stand the to assess the situation.
silence. I pick up the phone and “Whether it was or not, there are
dial. definite inconsistencies. More than
“Human Resources, this is Jack.” one. H.R. policy stands. We had to
“Jack, hi, it’s Chad Jensen. Lis let him go.”
ten, have you heard anything about 1 rub my eyes. “But if it was a
the Blake Adams situation?” simple mistake . . . ”
“I li, Chad,” Jack responds. “Well, “Tile bigger problem,” she inter
I haven’t heard too much, buddy. rupts, “is that he said you are the
Except that Adams was pissed off one who rushed him and said that
and pitched a fit.” he didn't need to worry about the
“Damn,” I say, knowing that this details. There may be a lawsuit.”
would be the case anyway. ‘That’s not true at all!” I exclaim.
“Bill Marsh told me to take care “I left him in my office in perfect
o f the usual, like cutting off e-mail peace and quiet and told him to
access and security access. I think take his time.”
Martine wants to see you.” Martine pushes the salad away
“This day is turning into a real so that she can rest her arms on the
nightmare.” desk. “I can’t believe you didn’t see
198 C R A IG V. E IS T E R
the problems in that application, into the lobby. I must look like a to
Chad r tal wreck. I wonder if the security
Taking a deep breath, I know I guard will think I look sick and ask
have to go through things step by me if I need a doctor. Or maybe I
step. “I didn’t look at the applica look guilty and he will get suspi
tion, Martine. I was interviewing cious. But no, he simply smiles at
him o ff o f his resume. I think w e all me, and I nod back.
leave the applications for H.R. to I walk quickly outside to get
deal with.” some fresh air. It is turning cooler,
“It gets better,” Martine snaps at so there are few people on the jo g
me. She never acknowledges any ging trail that surrounds the build
response you might have to her ac ing. I begin walking the track to
cusations, but simply plunges into collect my thoughts.
the next line o f attack. “H e claims
you wanted this to happen.” “It’s quite obvious, isn ’t it,
“W hat?” Jensen?” Richter says calmly, hold
“H e says it was y ou r goal all ing a fresh cup of coffee and walk
along to sabotage this project so ing slowly around the table. I at
th at you could outsource it. H e tempt to remain calm, although I
claims you have a side deal with want to bury my face in my hands.
Daniel Blank Productions to get a “Sir?”
hefty commission when they sign a “Jensen, you don’t play the idiot
deal with Earth Bang! In fact, he well. In order to outsmart the ruth
said there were papers on your less, you have to think one step
desk that indicated recent com m u ahead.”
nications with them.” One step ahead.
I am dumbfounded. Is this real It is becoming impossible to con
ly happening? trol the tension. Sweat breaks out
“We made the decision several on my forehead. “I am afraid you’ve
m onths ago to develop this in- completely lost me.”
house, Chad. I hope you are com “I ask you who we should get rid
m itted to that effort,” M artine o f around here. So, you m ake a cal
states, her voice becom ing danger culated risk to put the finger on
ously low. your boss. I see the light and she
“I hope you don’t believe th a t...” gets the boot.”
I begin indignantly, b u t she cuts It is what I want to hear him say,
m e off. and yet it isn’t.
“I think you’d better spend a lot The rain continues to hit the win
o f time today getting ready for your dow with force and I feel thor
talk with Richter. Adam s is furious oughly dehydrated. I stand up.
and plans to send Richter an e-mail “Where are you going Jensen?
later today telling his theory on the We’ve just begun.”
situation. I’m not sure w hat I’m go “Just needed some water, sir.”
ing to be able to do to save you.” “Here you go,” Richter says, hand
Riding the elevator dow n, I walk ing me a bottle from the side bar.
W H AT T H E C H A IR M A N S A Y S 199
A ccepting it, I reluctantly sit I open up m y word processor and

down again. My throat begins con begin to type. Several hours pass
stricting. I take gulps o f water. before I realize that I have not
“The Daniel Blank people came made it past the first page. Papers
to you. Offered a few kickbacks to are scattered all over m y desk,
get the account. But you knew along with em pty candy wrappers,
there was no way that Martine Diet Coke cans, and half-filled pota
would let that fly. You had to get to chip bags. I rub my eyes, which
her out o f the way. But you knew are h u rtin g from the com puter
that simply a bad word from you screen glare.
wasn’t going to do it. You needed I need a fresh venue. A clear
some bad moves. Some dirt.” head.
“Sir, wait a minute . . . ” With purpose, I stand and pack
“So poor Blake Adams came into up m y m aterials. I am shocked
the picture. He was your out. You when I look outside and see that it
make sure that he fills out an ap is dark. Dam n, almost 8 P.M! How
plication in your office. Hell, I am I ever going to finish?
wouldn’t be surprised if you doc It takes several minutes for the
tored the application yourself. You elevator to arrive. That is odd, es
go through your friend Jack at H.R. pecially this late at night. My com
to make sure that he gets hired be puter and briefcase begin hurting
fore the application is checked out. my shoulder and I have to set them
Then, when the time is right, you down on the ride down.
and Jack expose the application ir E m ergin g from the elevator, I
regularities and get him booted. sign the log book.
Sure, you come under some ques The guard is not at his station.
tion for letting this happen. But ul That is even more odd.
timately, it brings to light the trou I w alk slow ly and cautiously
bles with Martine’s decision to keep down the length o f the lobby, to
the project in-house. ward the parking garage, glancing
“Sir, this isn’t at all what hap behind m e several times. By the
pened,” I say, standing up desper time I reached the far doors, the
ately. guard is still not at his post.
“Jensen, Jensen,” Richter says, Stepping into the garage, I pause.
approaching me and putting a The lights are on, and everything
hand on m y shoulder. “Chad. Isn’t looks normal. I see my car at the far
it time we talk frankly?” end, in the same spot where I have
parked it for years.
My imagination is making me Slowly, I begin walking toward
crazy. it.
I return to my office and shut the Blake is angry, and I am certain
door. Just get some thoughts on pa ly the logical choice for his anger. It
per. Anything. Then refine them would not be very hard for him to
later. I need to at least start or I will have waited for m e here in the ga
have nothing to present to Richter. rage. A fter all, a terminated em
200 C R A I G V. E I S T E R
p loyee w as escorted ou t o f the again. “Frankly, I’m slightly disap

building. B ut no one m ade sure pointed that you don’t see the
th at person got in their car and whole picture. Remember what I
drove away, did they? said: You have to think one step
And w hat about Martine? This ahead o f the ruthless.”
whole incident would be damaging Once again, I do not know where
to her. She would surely be out to this is going.
get me. “D idn’t you consider that Blake
I quicken my step a bit, realizing Adam s may not be the victim in all
th at I have only gotten about a ofth is?”
quarter o f the way to m y car. My “H ow so?”
com puter feels like a ton on my “A second ago, I argued that you
shoulder. could have been in cahoots with the
The garage is quiet, way too quiet Daniel Blank people to get a kick-
for m y taste. I cannot seem to walk back. What if, instead, Adams was
fast enough, even though my getting a kickback to keep the pro
b reath in g is becom in g labored. je ct in-house?”
There are a few cars scattered in Richter senses my confusion and
the garage, all o f them dark. Could continues.
someone be waiting in one o f them? “Think about it. Adams was way
W aiting to ju m p out and attack too quick to suggest this whole plot
me? W aiting to start a car sudden th at you m ight have with the
ly and run me down? D aniel Blank people. W hy? Be
W aiting to ambush me? cause his whole point was to cast
I am nearly at m y car when I an ugly light on the external con
hear a noise and nearly scream. It sultant idea. He discredits it and
sounds like a car door slamming. the project stays internal.”
Maybe a car on another level? May “But in discrediting it, he loses
be a car backfiring somewhere out his job,” I point out.
side o f the garage? “Sure, but he is guaranteed part
M aybe him. O r her. o f the profits from the internal de
I sprint the rest o f the way. My velopment.”
hand shakes violently as I get into “By who?”
the car and lock m yself in, checking “Martine, o f course.”
the backseat for intruders. I stare at him in amazement.
I bury my face in m y hand and “It’s obvious, Jensen. Martine
begin crying. and Adams formed an alliance to
keep the project in-house. This plot
“Mr. Richter, let me tell you that was a simple way to cast a negative
the story you just told was indeed light on the consultants. And don’t
that, a story” I stammer. “I in no think that Martine isn’t planning
way had a n y . . . ” on coming in here and telling me
Richter holds his hand up. how negative you are, and that you
“I know, I know, Jensen,” he says, should be eliminated.”
indicating a seat. We both sit down I cannot believe the genius o f it
W H AT T H E C H A IR M A N S A Y S 201
all. “And Martine had Bill Marsh im m ediately flick on the living
from H.R. there right away to make room fights, prepared to scream.
sure that Blake was given the I exhale deeply. M y apartment
boot.” looks ju st as I left it. It has not been
“N ow you’re catching on, my boy. ransacked, and no evil messages
A fter all, it was Marsh that are painted in blood on my walls.
m arched in your office and de Get a grip, Chad. I dead-bolt the
manded that he be fired.” door b ehin d me and move auto
“But w hy go through all this?” I m atically to the answ ering m a
ask. “She’s the boss. She’d already chine.
decided the project would remain The m essage fight blinks three
internal.” times.
“Ah, yes,” Richter replies. “But I press the playback.
the project is in trouble. She is Three hang-ups.
thinking one step ahead. She Telemarketers, I reason. Those
knows that I am going to demand dam n telem arketers are always
some changes. So she concocts this disturbing you.
little plot to cast a negative light on I plug in m y com puter and bring
the external idea. She then sug up my presentation. It is still a
gests we get rid o f you. Then, later mess. H ow in the world am I going
on, w hen the internal project is to finish this? I am thoroughly ex
completed, she gets all the glory.” hausted, and m y nerves have
Richter sits back and studies me. passed their breaking point.
I slowly shake my head. “I don’t I start som e coffee brewing and
know what to say, sir. I didn’t see turn on the radio to ja r my senses
any o f that coming. I guess I don’t back to life.
have what it takes to be a high- Stay awake. Stay awake. Stay
powered executive.” awake!
“Oh, I don’t know about that, I would not be in this terrible po
Jensen. You’ve got promise. The im sition if it were not for my vivid
portant thing is to figure out what imagination. Always hying to think
you want to do about it now.” o f worst-case scenarios.
Always trying to think one step
M y apartment is located on the ahead.
third floor o f the complex, and all
the lights on m y side are dark. I Martine charges into the board
wonder if a fuse box has blown, but room as I co n te m p la te w h a t
notice the porch light glowing on Richter has said.
my patio. I hadn’t even been out “Ah, M artine, how nice o f you to
there lately, had I? join us,” Richter says. “I was having
Gripping my laptop and holding the m ost interestin g discussion
my other hand in a fist, I proceed with Jensen.”
quickly up the stairs. M y hands “I ju st b et you have,” M artine
shake slightly as I put the key into says with a snarl. “I’m sure he’s
the lock, push the door open, and been filling your head with lies, Mr.
202 C R A IG V . E I S T E R
Richter. Chad Jensen has been try discredit the internal development
in g to stab m e in the back for idea, he casts a suspicious light on
months!” one of the two vendor choices. Mr.
“Is that so?” Richter comments as Richter, Chad Jensen wants you to
I listen in fascination. think that you have no other choice.
“D espite m y m andate to com He wants you to pick Myriad Tech
plete interna] development o f our nology.”
w eb product, Jensen has spent the They both stare at me.
past several months trying to sab “Sir” I laugh nervously. “This is
otage the project. Blake Adams has ridiculous.”
been in collaboration with Jensen “Jensen, perhaps I haven’t given
this whole time. Chad brought him you enough credit,” Richter says.
in here long enough to learn the “Mr. Richter, you can’t believe...”
technology. Then they arrange this Richter interrupts, “Luckily Mar
p hon y schem e to get him fired. tine has been smart enough to
Adam s further sabotages the In think one s te p . . . ”
ternet design so that Jensen can
com e in here and tell you what dire Oh no! It is 7:30 A.M!
straits we are in.” I wake up with my head laying in
“A nd are w e in dire straits?” a pool o f drool on the kitchen table,
Richter asks. next to my laptop and a half fin
“Unfortunately, yes. I think we ished cup o f coffee. The radio is still
have no choice but to get an ex playing.
ternal vendor to pick up this pro M y meeting with Richter is in
ject.” h a lf an hour!
Richter glances at me, as if he Like a madman, I throw off my
begins to suspect m e anew. He clothes and run into the shower.
turns tow ard M artine and pays No, no, no! This cannot be hap
close attention. pening! I will be late to the office.
I stare at Martine, m y eyes bor Richter will call Martine. She will
ing a hole through her. have plenty o f time to fill his head
“But that was the beauty o f his with lies. I will be sunk!
plan,” Martine smiles triumphant I make it to the car, determined
ly at me. “Blake makes sure to sug to tie my tie and shave on the way
gest an alliance with Daniel Blank to work. Please don’t let me get in
Productions.” to an accident.
“W h y in the world would he do What am I going to do? What am
that?” Richter asks. “That informa I going to say?
tion would make me definitely not The security guard has the same
want to choose them.” pleasant smile as I rush past him in
“E xactly!” M artine says tri a frenzy. I open m y laptop in the el
umphantly. “ Because all along, evator and pull up the part o f the
Chad has had a pact with the oth presentation I have. The doors open
er vendor, Myriad Technology. It’s and I make a mad dash to the
the perfect plan. Not only does he board room.
It is 7:59. M artine smiles.

I have m ade it on time. Calm O f course, they believe they have
down. Stay steady. outfoxed me.
The door to the board room is But really, it was quite simple. I
open, and I stare inside in horror. left Daniel Blank material all over
Richter and Martine are having my office as Blake Adam s filled in
coffee. his application. I changed the ap
They see me, and stand. plication before I turned it in, then
“Ah, here you are, Jensen,” forced Jack to have him hired ear
Richter says. “Come in, come in. ly. Blake gets fired and he squeals.
Have a seat.” The Daniel Blank people didn’t
I sit dow n at the table, n er think it would work. They thought
vously. that the plan would discredit the
“Put the laptop away, Jensen. idea o f using a vendor, and Richter
We’ve gotten everything squared would end up keeping the project
away. I have to take a call with our in-house. Or, Richter would end up
key investors, but here it is in a thinking Daniel Blank Productions
nutshell. We’re going to outsource had a tarnished name because o f
the Internet development, and we Blake, and w ould end up go in g
are going with Daniel Blank Pro with M yriad Technology. So, o f
ductions. Martine will be in charge course, I negotiated an even bigger
o f the project, but you will manage payback for myself.
the vendor relationship. Any ques But in the end, I knew th ere
tions?” wouldn’t be any risk.
They both look at me. Are they Martine and Richter would des
waiting for me to flinch? To react in perately tiy to stay one step ahead.
surprise? To betray my thoughts? They would outsmart themselves.
“Fine, sir. I will get right on it,” I “Well,” Martine says standing up.
reply calmly. “I guess we’d better get to work.”
“Good,” Richter says with finali “Yes,” I reply. “Let’s do w hat the
ty, stands up, and walks out. chairman says.”
L ighthouse R ock
Raym ond Steiber
erald “Doc” Milligan— Doc gunwales, then take o ff south,
G because he’d been a vol dodging revenue boats and the

unteer ambulance driver Coast Guard. H e’d painted his
boat a dark gray and m ade his
in World War I—-was in the bootleg
hootch business. No other way to runs on starless nights, which was
put it. precisely when a storm could whip
It was the early days o f Prohibi up and Lake Superior was most
tion, and down in Chicago the Ital dangerous. Then he’d creep
ian gan gs hadn’t yet m achine- through the Apostle Islands to the
gunned the Irish gan gs out o f Wisconsin shore where a couple o f
business. Not that it mattered to Indians o ff the reservation ju s t
Doc— he didn’t deal with either o f south o f there would be waiting
them. A nd besides, he had a more for him. The Indians would have
discriminating clientele than they the reservation hearse with them,
did, the kind who liked their booze and in the back o f it would be some
straight and unwatered. Nor did empty coffins. Into th e coffins
he ever get down to Chicago. His would go the booze, and the Indi
bailiwick was Lake Superior and ans, now dressed in a sober black,
the shores o f upper Wisconsin. would take o ff for M ilw aukee
Doc had a twenty-five foot boat where a middleman would sell it
with a souped-up engine. H e be to the country club set there and in
longed to that breed o f Americans Chicago.
who, like Rickenbacker and Bar The Indians were M ethodists
ney Oldfield, could take an engine and teetotalers, but they didn’t
apart and make it run faster and much mind if a bunch o f palefaces
better than it ever had before— for drank themselves into oblivion—
a while anyway, till they blew it particularly if they were paying for
apart by abusing it. Then they’d it. In a way, they sort o f looked on it
grin and start all over again. Jules as revenge for Wounded Knee.
Verne once wrote that Americans On this particular night, Doc had
were engineers by birthright, and just finished unloading a cargo o f
that was Doc all right. H e had mo hootch and had moved his boat
tor oil in his veins and a grease back to its home base near Bay-
monkey’s heart. field. Feeling pretty good, too, since
He ran good C anadian whisky he had a fresh wad o f greenbacks in
in from O ntario in its original bot his pocket. He was ju st tying up
tles. H e ’d p ut into a cov e near when the w om an appeared. She
Thunder Bay, load his boat to the walked right down to the end o f
204
L IG H T H O U S E R O C K 205
the dock and began climbing down woman, but it was softened by large
the ladder into his boat. eyes and a complexion that could’ve
“Are you Doc Milligan?” she been featured in a beauty soap ad.
asked. The people at Pears or Procter and
Doc didn’t answer because his Gamble would’ve loved her.
jaw was hanging open. He’d never “Well, can you take me? I’ll pay, o f
really gotten used to short skirts. course.”
The first time he’d seen one was His first impulse was to refuse.
when he went on leave to Paris in He was a hootch runner, goddamit,
1916. He was sort o f shocked by he didn’t run a taxi service. But
them, to tell the truth, but he then he thought about sailing into
couldn’t take his eyes off them, ei the sunrise with this woman be
ther. It was as if for the first time side him, and his heart did a little
he’d realized that women had legs. flip-flop.
This woman had legs, all right. Like a lot o f shy men— even shy
Long white ones that seemed to go men who sometimes got shot at by
all the way up to her armpits. She the C oast Guard— he was a ro
w ore one o f those close-fittin g mantic. and Peggy Noone’s big eyes
helmetlike hats, and her bobbed, had him in a kind o f pre-N udear
dark brown hair showed at the Age meltdown.
edges of it. So he said: “What time would you
“Well, are you Doc Milligan or want to leave?”
not?” A nd she said: “ How about right
Doc nodded dumbly. The truth now?”
was that he was a little bit awk
ward with women— but then what W hat Doc didn’t know and what
would you expect o f a man whose Peggy Noone didn’t know was that
mother had destined him for the there were a couple o f men up in
priesthood? But he’d got out of that, the weeds listening to them and
all right, and what a close call it that their voices carried fitfully over
had been! the water.
“I’m Peggy Noone,” she said as Fast Frankie M uldoon said:
she dropped the last few inches. “I “W hat was that they said?”
hear you know Lake Superior like “Som ething about Lighthouse
the back o f your hand.” Rock,” Bottle Cap Brown replied.
He knew it, all right. He had to Fast Frankie snapped his fingers.
know it to dodge the Coast Guard. “That’s where he’s got his stash, I
“I’m trying to get to a place called bet.”
Lighthouse Rock.” It would be indelicate to say why
H e finally found his voice. Fast Frankie was called that. As
“There’s nothing there but an aban for Jim m y “Bottle Cap” Brown, he
doned lighthouse.” was reputed to be able to remove
“T hat doesn’t bother me,” she the cap from a beer bottle with his
said. front teeth. They had been sent
S h e had a strong face for a north by their Chicago boss, Paddy
206 R A Y M O N D S T E IB E R
Boylan, and their Franklin motor “T h e C hicago N ew s— the best

car was parked nearby. Paddy had dam ned paper in the Midwest.
heard about Doc’s enterprise, and We’re the ones who blew the lid off
he wanted to elbow in on it. “Them the Black Sox scandal.”
stiffs at the country clubs got plen She talked tough as nails, but
ty o f m oolah to blow,” h e ’d told she looked like sweet heaven to
them, “and why shouldn’t we grab him. In fact, he could barely take
some o f it?” his eyes off her long enough to steer
“Look,” Fast Frankie said, “he’s the boat.
gassing up his boat. I bet h e’s going “I guess you’re wondering why I
to that rock he talked about.” want to go to Lighthouse Rock. And
“Yeah, and that’s probably his why I waited all night for you to
moll he’s got with him.” show up at your dock.”
Fast Frankie was skin n y and Actually, he hadn’t thought about
redheaded while Bottle Cap was it at all. T h at was b eca u se he
built along the lines o f a truck. hadn’t yet got past those long legs
Th e form er said: “W e’ll hire a o f hers. That’s what comes of living
boat and follow him out there and in an age when nobody’s yet de
then w e’ll know where h e stores fined sexism.
Iris booze. Then later we can lean on “There’s a big story waiting out
him like Paddy wants. And because there,” Peggy said, “and this lady’s
he w on’t have no secrets from us, going to latch on to it.”
we’ll have the upper hand.” They cleared the Apostle Islands,
‘Y eah,” Bottle Cap said. and here came the sun popping out
Bottle Cap was good a t saying o f the water ahead o f them— as if
yeah. It was probably the main rea Lake Superior were an ocean in
son why he’d spent ten years, on stead of the biggest lake in North
and off, in state penitentiaries— America.
and he wasn’t yet thirty. “Wow—that’s really something.”
Fast Frankie, on the other hand, It was, too— and Doc felt like he
was good at coming up with hare was seeing it for the first time.
brained ideas. But without know “W hat were you doing ou t all
ing it, he’d actually come u p with a night? Fishing or something?”
pretty good one this time. Because Doc ‘fessed up to her. “Fm a whis
it w asn’t booze he’d find at Light ky runner.”
h ouse Rock, it was a gentlem an “No— are you really?”
nam ed Stanley Noviski. “I bring top grade stuff dow n
from Canada and sell it downstate.”
“Listen,” Peggy N oone said as “But that’s really wild. W ait—
they left the shore behind, “I guess you don’t have any on board right
I’d better tell you what I do. Fm a now, do you?”
reporter with the N ew s.” “There’s a couple o f bottles in
“T he M ilwaukee N ew s? The M in that locker over there.”
neapolis N ew s? The E ast Dogtown And then she had to drag one out
N ews?” and open it, and pretty soon they
w ere passin g it back and forth, out to m eet him — this Peggy
drinking straight out of the neck. N oone. Peggy h ad exaggerated
Doc thought: This is a hell of an ad somewhat when she’d told Doc that
venture I’m having. Drinking good she w as a reporter. Actually, she
Canadian whisky with a pretty girl was a sob sister, a female who wrote
as we run on into the sunrise. It an agon y colum n, advice to the
sure beats anything I would’ve ex lovelorn and that sort o f thing. But
perienced as a priest. she had ambitions, and big-time
reporting was one o f them.
Stanley Noviski peered through She’ll m ake me a big offer from
the glassless windows of the light the N ews, Stanley thought. Hoped.
house as if he were afraid someone Prayed.
might be watching him, then got She w as the only new spaper
the account books out of their wom an he knew about, and that
satchel again. Not to open them was w hy he’d written the letter to
and study them, but just to make her. He and his mother— while she
sure they hadn’t walked off some was still alive, God rest her soul—
where. had avidly read her column. It was
Stanley w as a round little man exciting for Stanley to realize that
with a potato nose and not much of there was romance out there— even
a chin. He had weepy, doelike eyes if it was other people’s romance and
and didn’t look at all like the type pretty imperfect. W hen he finally
who’d do anything dangerous. But cashed in on the books, he intend
a few weeks before he’d taken the ed to hie him self o ff to Capri and
risk o f his life. H e’d run off with Da find some o f his own. He’d heard
Mare’s account books— and these that the island was cheap and sun
were the real ones. They showed ny and beautiful and just the place
just who in the city o f Chicago was for a fellow with his predilections.
grafting what, and how that graft Foggy nights, hidden in the light
was being distributed. They were house, he longed for it.
dynamite. A s for this particular island, he’d
Da Mare— the mayor, to say it read about it in a magazine article
the way som ebody not from about old lighthouses, and it had
Chicago would—-had trusted N o struck him as the perfect hideout.
viski implicitly. And why shouldn’t, That was w h y he’d paid an Apostle
he? Stanley w as a pale little book Islands boatman to take him out
keeper who’d lived all his life with here. Da M are’s henchmen would
his mother and had a safe job with figure that he’d holed up in a room
the city. W ho would have thought ing house somewhere. They’d nev
that he had dreams in his head and er believe that a person like him
that he’d try to realize them by would take him self o ff to a deserted
stealing the books? pile o f rocks and cook his meals
Stanley put the account books over a fire o f driftwood.
back in the satchel and thought Fooled them, he thought. Just the
about the wom an who was coming same, h e k ept glancing fearfully
out the windows and hiding and was supposed to warn away ship
re-hiding the satchel with the ac ping, but so little came that way
count books. that in the end the Feds decided to
D a Mare, after all, was nobody to close it down.
be trifled with. There had once been a dock on
the east end o f the island, but a
It took Fast Frankie and Bottle storm had blown it away. But a cou
Cap some time to find somebody ple o f pilings remained, and that
w ho’d take them out to Lighthouse was where Doc decided to tie up.
Rock, and then it was an old guy Over the years debris had piled up
nam ed Dewhurst who had a boat at the northwest com er o f the is
so small they could barely cram land, and now there was a narrow
themselves into it. Even worse, it peninsula there where a stand o f
cost Fast Frankie a quick fifty to in vagrant pines had taken root.
duce him— a fact he didn’t like at Good place for a campsite, Doc
all. thought. If you didn’t mind getting
Bottle Cap brought a violin case your feet wet when a storm blew
on board, and Dewhurst stared at up.
it in surprise. “How do we get ashore?” Peggy
“H e keeps his typew riter in asked.
there,” Fast Frankie informed him Doc showed her how— which was
with a grin. to remove his pants and wade in
Typewriter? That made even less hip deep. She did the same with
sense than a violin. her skirt after m aking him turn
W hat Dewhurst didn’t know was his back on her. It took all his Irish
that typewriter was gangsterese backbone not to sneak a peek, but
for Tom m y gun, and that in sever he didn’t try to curb his imagina
al encounters with rival Italian tion.
gangs Bottle Cap had proved him Dressed again, they proceeded
self an expert with it. toward the lighthouse. It was a
They pulled away from the dock, woebegone place with no windows
leaving a cream y w ake behind and the outside walls streaked with
them. bird dung.
Dewhurst leaned in Bottle Cap’s “Smell that?” Doc asked.
direction. “Smell what?”
“Are you a writer or something?” “Old smoke.”
“Hell,” Bottle Cap said, “I don’t They stopped before the entrance
even read too good.” to the lighthouse.
“W hat are we supposed to be
It w as nine a .m . w hen Light looking for?” Doc asked.
house Rock hove into view. It was in For an answer, Peggy stuck her
an area o f dangerous shoals, and head in the doorway and yelled:
the government had built an island “Stanley!” The name echoed up and
o f rocks on one o f them and raised down the interior o f the building
a lighthouse on it. The lighthouse and a couple o f birds took off.
Doc, feeling all the hootch he’d showed itself at one o f the upper
drunk, decided to join the game. windows.
“Livingstone!” “D on’t com e any closer! I’ve got a
“You nut,” Peggy muttered. gun!”
“Well, whether it’s Stanley or Liv “Wait a minute,” Doc said. “That’s
ingstone, they don’t seem to be a stick.”
home today.” “It ju st looks like a stick! Stay
“Let’s look around the island.” where you are!”
They tram ped off toward the “Stanley— I’m Peggy Noone.”
stand o f pines and skirted the west “You w ere supposed to com e
ern side o f it. alone!”
“I just hope this hasn’t been a “H ow was I supposed to get here?
wild-goose chase,” Peggy said. Swim?”
“Nope. Look there.” “I f you’re Peggy Noone, tell m e
Footprints in the mud along the what you wrote to Mr. Lonelyhearts
shore and drag marks behind in your column.”
them. “Stanley, I get a dozen letters a
“W hat was he dragging?” day from people who sign them
Doc pointed at the debris at the selves Lonelyhearts.”
tip o f the island. Thanks to all the “That’s the answer I wanted! You
logging in Wisconsin and Minne are Peggy Noone!”
sota, a lot o f driftwood found its He disappeared from the w in
way here, and, in fact, the entire dow.
peninsula was built on a base o f it. “This guy’s a looney,” Doc said.
“Firewood,” Doc said. “M aybe so, but he’s a looney
“Let’s go back to the lighthouse. who’s going to make a star reporter
I bet he’s in there but just didn’t an out o f me.”
swer.” Noviski appeared at the entrance
“Who is this galoot?” o f the lighthouse. He looked around
“He’s Stanley Noviski— although as if he expected someone to ju m p
I’m not supposed to know his last him. Peggy and Doc walked up to
name. Da Mare— ” she pronounced him.
it the sam e way every other “I can’t be too cautious,” he said.
Chicagoan did— “is turning over “W hat’re you afraid of?” D oc
every rock in the city looking for asked. “The seagulls?”
him. He walked off with an armful “I’m afraid o f D a Mare.” And the
o f books that show where all the way he said it, Doc almost expect
graft is going.” ed a drumroll afterwards.
“He must have a bunch o f them To their surprise, Noviski offered
then. In Chicago, even the garbage them coffee. He’d made a circle o f
collectors are on the graft.” stones in one com er o f the light
“Quiet— that’s supposed to be a house and there was a pile o f drift
secret.” wood in it. The broken windows up
They were approaching the light near where the light had been pro
house again. All at once a pale face vided a natural draft for the smoke.
He got a fire going and put a big about the books and what he knew
metal pot on it. about Da Mare’s operation, and
“W hat do w e do for coffee cups?” Peggy took out a notebook and be
Doc asked. gan writing furiously. They got so
“Oops. I n ever th ou gh t about engrossed in Noviski’s story that
that. I only have one.” they didn’t hear the motor o f the
“Never mind,” Peggy said. “Let’s approaching boat. The thick walls
get down to business. o f the lighthouse had something to
“I want ten thousand dollars for do with that, and the noises the
the books.” Peggy swallowed hard. birds were making up where the
“And five thousand dollars more for light had been.
the exclusive rights to m y story.” Then the m otor dropped to a
“Stanley, there are movie stars purr, and they m issed the only
who don’t get that.” chance of an advance warning they
“The N ew s’ll ju st have to pay or were likely to have.
I’ll go to the Tribune. Just think o f
the circulation advantage that’ll Fast Frankie spotted Doc’s boat
give them.” tied up to the piling and had Dew-
Even civilians seem ed to know hurst take them around to the end
about circulation wars these days. o f the peninsula. Then they rolled
“I’ll have to take one o f the books up their pant legs and waded
back with me— so m y editor can ashore, Bottle Cap carrying his vi
see it. Otherwise you w on ’t get five olin case over his head in case he
cents.” stepped into a hole.
Noviski hemmed and hawed, but “You want me to wait around?”
finally he agreed to it. Dewhurst called.
“All right, but you’ve got to act as “Naw. Go on back. We’ll use that
m y go-between. I w on’t trust any other boat.”
body else. And I want some up-front The Tommy gun made sure o f
money.” that. It was their ticket to a free
Peggy paled at that. She didn’t ride.
have twenty dollars on her. And as They laid up at the edge o f the
for the News, she hadn’t yet told pines and put their shoes back on.
them what she was up to. Then they shook out their pant
Fortunately, Doc spotted her pre legs, which had got soaked in spite
dicament and took ou t a fat roll o f the rollup. Dewhurst let the cur
and peeled o ff two hundred dollars. rent sweep him away from the is
“That do?” land.
Noviski licked his lips. He prob “Now let’s see w h at’s at that
ably hadn’t seen m ore than fifty lighthouse,” Fast Frankie said.
dollars in his life. “O ne more,” he “What if this Milligan guy de
said. cides to fight us.”
Doc peeled o ff another hundred, “Then we take him down a cou
and he seemed happy. ple of pegs. Besides, who’s going to
Then he began telling them argue with your typewriter?”
They pushed through the sparse Cap let loose with a burst o f fire,
stand of trees. Then they spotted and the classic rat-a-tat-tat type
Peggy and Doc and Noviski stand w riter sou nd o f the Tom m y gun
ing outside the lighthouse. At last echoed across the island.
one o f them had heard the boat m o Noviski jerked once and fell in
tor, a n d th e y w ere w a tch in g side the lighthouse.
Dewhurst’s craft recede in the dis “Jeez, Bottle Cap, I can’t rem em
tance. ber w hether Da Mare wanted him
Fast Frankie did a double take. dead or alive.”
“I know that little guy— I seen “It better a’ been dead, because
him at City Hall a couple o f times. that’s the way I just cooked him.
It’s Noviski. He’s the guy Da Mare’s Now let’s go roust out them other
looking for. He’s offering three G’s two.”
for him, and that’s no malar key.”
“Three grand? We could use that Doc and Peggy got down on their
money, Frankie.” stomachs behind one o f the boul
“You bet we could— and here the ders dow n from the lighthouse. By
bastard’s dropped right in our lap.” craning th eir heads to one side,
“W hat do we do about Milligan?” they could keep track o f the two
“W e make it a double header. men.
Two for the price o f one. Take care “H orse hockey,” Doc said. “T h e
o f Paddy Boylan’s business and Da way they’re coming, we won’t have
Mare’s at the same time.” time to get to the boat.”
They stepped out o f the pines, “W ho are they?”
and ju st then Noviski spotted “Beats m e, but they sure aren’t
them. friendly.”
“Gripes!” he yelled. “They m ust work for Da Mare.”
The other two turned and saw “That’s the last time he gets my
them, too. vote— not that I’m eligible in Chica
“L et’s show them w ho’s boss,” go.”
Fast Frankie said, unholstering his “Doc, people who’ve been dead
.38. twenty years are eligible in Chica
Bottle Cap got the Tommy gun go, and plenty of them vote every
out o f the violin case. election day. How do you think Da
Doc saw it and grabbed Peggy by M are stays in power?”
the hand and whisked her around “I bet he’d get elected anyway. I
the side o f the lighthouse. Noviski m ean, th ink how stupid people
just stood there, frozen. His con are.”
stant nightmare had come true. “All this political philosophy’s a
Da M are’s henchmen had found real thrill, Doc, but how do w e get
him. out o f this m ess?’
Bottle Cap braced the Tommy “We pray for a sudden fog.”
gun against his hip. Noviski came “Besides that.”
alive then and darted toward the “D am ned i f I know.”
entrance o f the lighthouse. Bottle The tw o hoodlum s had com e
around the lighthouse now. They Fast Frankie began to lose his
paused in the sunlight. temper. “Come out o f there, Milli
“C om e out, you two,” the red gan. You’re digging yourself a grave
headed one shouted. “W e got the and we’ll shove you right into it.”
firepow er and you ain ’t got a “Since you put it that way, go— ”
chance.” And here Doc described an act so
“Sure, w e’ll com e out,” Peggy complicated and disgusting that it
muttered. “I always wanted to have had even Fast Frankie blushing.
m ore holes in me than a noodle Peggy said: “That’s pretty good,
strainer. Look, Doc, don’t you have Doc. I never heard that one before.”
a gun or something?” “A Frenchman taught me that
“Never touch the damned things.” when I was an ambulance driver in
“B ut .you’ve got to have a gun. the Great War. He’d just got shot in
You’re a whisky runner. W hat do the gluteus maximus. I’m freely
you do when you run into a Coast translating, o f course.”
Guard cutter?” ‘You speak French?”
“Run for shallow w ater where “Only the vulgar stuff. And how
they can’t follow me. You think I to ask how much something costs.
want to get in a fight with those But then I never know what the re
guys? Theyd blow me out o f the ply means.”
water. Besides, what if I had a gun ‘You two better come out,” Fast
and managed to shoot some eigh Frankie yodeled. ‘“Cause ten more
teen-year-old deck hand? How do seconds and we’re coming in.”
you think I’d feel about that?” “Yeah,” Bottle Cap echoed.
“Doc, you can’t be a whisky run ‘You bunch o f murderers!” Peggy
ner and a pacifist, too.” yelled.
“Well, I can halfway try.” ‘Th ey’ll take that as a com pli
The redhead yelled again. “Quit ment,” Doc said.
jawing, you two, and come out into The two hoodlums began edging
the open. We see where you are.” toward their boulder, their weapons
“W hat’ll you do if we com e out?” ' gleaming in the sun.
Doc shouted. “What are we going to do, Doc?”
“W e’ll talk to you real polite.” “Well, if we surrender they’ll kill
“Like you talked to Stanley No- us. And if we don’t surrender, they’ll
viski?” Peggy yelled. kill us. So I guess it’s time to use
“N oviski was a separate busi something else a Frenchman once
ness. Now we got to deal with you taught me.”
two. W here’s your w hisky stash, ‘m a t ’s that?”
Milligan?” “How to throw a hand grenade
“D on’t have one.” when you’re prone behind a rock
“Don’t give us that crap. It’s in and still get some oomph on it.”
the lighthouse, ain’t it?” “You got a hand grenade? And
‘Yeah, but it’s twelve feet down you never told me?”
and you’ll have to dig for it with a “Next best thing, Peggy.”
pick and shovel.” He shimmied sideways and
grabbed a fist-sized rock. Then he “You blankety-blanks! You hurt

shot a look around the edge o f the my partner! N ow y o u ’re really
boulder and executed a roll, bring gonna pay!”
ing his arm up and over and letting Bottle Cap rushed forward, fir
% ing from the hip. Bullets spattered
The rock arced high in the air, everywhere and Doc had to stay
then cam e zoom ing down and buttoned down behind the boulder
bounced off the redhead’s leg. while Peggy tried to make a hole
“Hey!” he yelled. for herself. Then a wonderful thing
But Doc was already letting fly happened. B ottle C a p ’s Tom m y
with another rock. gun jam m ed. He cursed and came
This one caught Bottle Cap high to a halt and tried to unjam it, and
in the chest and sent him sprawling Doc rose to his full height and sur
on his rear end. He was up again al veyed the situation.
most immediately and waving the Bottle Cap cast a wild eye at him
Tommy gun. and w ent on with his efforts.
“You rats! I’m gonna drill you so Doc ju st smiled at him.
full o f holes you won’t hold water Then he let loose with his best
any more!” fastball, and it conked Bottle Cap
He started jogging forward, and right out o f business. And the way
Doc threw another rock. This one it slammed into his teeth, he’d nev
missed him and he let loose with er open a bottle with them again.
the Tommy gun. Chips flew from Doc bent down and nudged Peg
the boulder, and Peggy scrooched gy-
down in the fetal position, cover “G am e’s over. H om e team beat
ing her head with her arms. But the visitors two-ought.”
Doc ju st kept on throwing rocks. She raised her head and essayed
One thing, there was a plentiful a cautious look.
supply o f them. “Doc— you whipped those guys!”
One of them caught Bottle Cap in “W asn’t nothing, Peggy. Let’s go
the shoulder and turned him half see w hat they did to poor Noviski.”
way around. But it didn’t stop him N ot m uch, it turned out. One o f
and he kept right on coming with the rounds from the Tom my gun
the Tom my gun, stumbling now had grazed his head and put him
and then on the rough ground but out for a while. But now he’d come
not stopping for anything. And now to and was m ad as hell.
Fast Frankie opened up with the “L et m e a t those guys! Fire a
.38. Tom m y gu n at me, will they?
“Stop it, Doc! You’re just making That’s outrageous!”
them mad!” “Th ey’re all tied up with their
But then D oc got lucky and belts and neckties,” D oc informed
conked the redhead on the noggin him, “and better left alone.”
with a miniature boulder. He went “W hat did you do? G et the drop
down like a ballerina doing the dy on them ?”
ing swan. “H e got all kinds o f drops on
them,” Peggy said, “Now, where are anyway. A nd when the N ew s came
those account books?” out with its story, they’d be even
deader still.
T h ey left Noviski to guard the Doc took pity on Peggy and
hoodlums with the now unjammed nudged his boat close enough that
Tom m y gun while they headed for she could step aboard dryshod. She
W isconsin to get the police. And made a hash o f it anyway, and he
from the look on N ovisk i’s face, had to quick grab her in his arms.
those two had better not tiy any And once he’d done that, he some
thing. Not that they were in any how didn’t want to release her
condition to. again.
A fterw ards, Doc and Peggy “'You gonna let me go anytime
would ju st disappear, and Noviski soon?”
would give a false nam e and do the “Uh-uh.”
sam e, m eeting up w ith them in “Not that I’m w anting you to,
Bayfield. That meant Frankie and Doc.”
Bottle Cap would probably be re Then she slid her arms around
leased, but they were a dead issue his neck, and it went on from there.
The Lyre’s Song
Marianne Wilski Strong
t has been twenty-eight years since that night Aspasia w alked into
I my house, but I shall never forget that m om ent when I looked up

from the scroll I was reading and saw her solemn face in the light o f
the resin torch her servant carried. O f course, I was already in love with
her. But then h alf o f Athens was, too. The other h a lf despised her, al
ready believing what that fool Aristophanes would later write: that she
had once run a brothel. Perhaps she had. But if so, she was enterprising
and intelligent enough to have done it with class and to have m ade a for
tune doing it.
When Aspasia appeared in m y doorway I leapt up from my stool, part
ly out o f respect, partly out of shock that she had come through the dark
and muddy streets o f Athens at that late hour to seek m e out. Even with
her servant Tysander along to protect her and carry a torch to light the
way, it had taken boldness and courage to come. B ut A spasia n ever
lacked either.
I knew that she must have been driven to com e to m e by some event
that meant danger to her or to her lover Pericles, though I h a lf hoped
that the stories o f her promiscuity as a high-class hetaera were true and
that she’d come to bestow her sexual favors on me. M uch as I bore and
still do bear great love, respect, and friendship for Athens’ greatest ar-
chon, Pericles, I would have embraced Aspasia’s offer and A spasia her
self without hesitation. She was that beautiful and that enchanting. I
hoped, at least, for some mild flirtation.
But Aspasia, being Aspasia, knew that the moment called for im m edi
ate and straighforward truth. “Kleides,” she said, motioning to Tysander
to wait outside and stepping farther inside the doorway and into the light
o f my oil lamp, “I need your help. Melissia has been murdered.”
Even as my mind rebelled at such a deed com mitted in my Athens,
my heart swelled with sorrow for the loss o f so lovely a singer, whose
voice had lifted many a sym posium to a level fit for the gods. “M u r
dered?” I said. “That lovely voice stilled?” Then m y sophist’s mind clicked
in. “On what evidence do you claim murder?”
“She has been found dead. Strangled. H er neck is m ottled w ith the
marks o f the murderer’s fingers.”
I pulled my good chair o f fiber cords and pillows from against the wall
and set it in the center o f the room for A spasia. “Found w h ere and
when,” I asked, “and by whom?”
“In the outer part o f the Kerimakus district, an hour ago. By a young
215
216 MARIANNE WELSKI STRONG
m an w ho had gon e to th e cem etery to lay a wreath at his broth er’s

stele.”
I frowned. The outer Kerim akus was Athens’ cemetery and red light
district. “And you, Aspasia,” I asked, “how did you come to find out where
and w hen he found her?”
“He knew Melissia. A nd he knew that she was to be at Pericles’ sym
posium this evening to sing. I had arranged it.”
“She never showed up?”
“No. I sent one o f my servants to her uncle’s house to inquire after her.
I thought that perhaps sh e’d becom e ill.”
“And what did the uncle say?”
“Menides said that she had left for the symposium. But she never ar
rived.” Aspasia bowed h er head. Tw o dark curls brushed her shoulders,
an elegant Ionian hairdo for which she was both envied and criticized by
Athenian women w ho followed the current fashion o f simpler upswept
hair.
I could see that she was deeply saddened by Melissia’s death, though,
as always, she kept a tight rein on her emotions. She shed no tears. O n
ly the intake o f h er breath told me how close she had come to crying. I
gave her a few moments.
“She was not accom panied by a slave, as is usual, on her w ay to your
house?”
A spasia looked up. “A ccord in g to M enides, she insisted on goin g
alone.”
I thought about that. O nly lower-class women, water-bearers, food-
sellers, and cheap flute girls walked the streets o f Athens alone. A t one
time, before Aspasia had rescued her, Melissia had been a lower-class
flute girl plying her trade in the port o f Piraeus to survive, h er intelli
gence and lovely songs unappreciated. “Had she maintained the habit
o f going out alone?”
“She was not afraid to defy Athens’ rigid rules for women. She often
walked into the hills w ith her lyre to practice her songs in the woods, as
Orpheus did.” A spasia spoke with pride, not censure. She h erself never
hesitated to defy the rules o f Athens for women, though she did so dis
creetly, so as not to give m ore ammunition to Pericles’ aristocratic polit
ical enemies. She would do nothing to harm the democracy Pericles had
so carefully nourished.
“So she likely did set ou t alone?”
Aspasia shook her head slowly. “I can’t think that she would have. She
was to perform at our home. W henever she came to our hom e, even in
the day to visit with me, she came with a servant. Yet tonight, i f Menides
is to be believed, she did set out alone.”
“Something ou t o f a usual pattern then,” I mused, as m uch to m yself
as to Aspasia.
The oil lamp dim m ed and I got up to pour olive oil into another lamp.
TH E L Y R E ’S SO N G 217
Aspasia remained still, but she kept h er eyes on m e and I could see that
she w as waiting to tell me something o f significance.
“Something else?” I said, when I sat down again.
“Yes. Melissia’s hair. It had been ripped from h er head.”
I stared at Aspasia, partly because she lowered her hemation from h er
shoulders so gracefully, letting the blue cloak d rop to her waist to reveal
the white linen chiton beneath, and partly because I could not imagine
w hy anyone would have ripped out M elissia’s gloriously shiny d ark
brown hair. “Ripped out?” I said finally.
“According to the man who found her. H er h ead . . . ” Aspasia paused
and drew another deep breath. “Her head was bloodied.”
A num ber o f thoughts ran through m y brain. A crime o f passion. A n
angiy lover. Another hetaera, jealous o f her rival’s success. Perhaps even
an animal attack. But I knew o f no animal who would rip the hair rath
er than the flesh. Our superstitious folk would h ave suggested a goddess
jealous o f Melissia’s hair, just as Apollo and Artem is, the divine children
o f Leto, had destroyed the children o f Niobe, w h o had boasted she had
more children than Leto. It is only a myth, o f course, but the folk believe
it to be true. I am a sophist. I com e to no conclusions until I exam ine
what evidence there is to be seen.
“W here is the body now?” I asked.
“Still at Kerimakus. I sent a slave to stand guard over it. Will you go?”
“O f course,” I said.
P ulling her hem ation back over h er sh oulders, Aspasia rose. “A n d
when you are finished, bring the body to me. I will see to it that it is prop
erly tended. And come to me yourself I will w ant to know what you have
found.”
I nodded. “And Menides? Who will tell him ?”
“I will send for him.”
Aspasia walked to the door and summoned Tysander from the upper
part o f the street to which he had retreated. S h e turned back to me.
“Kleides,” she said, “find who killed Melissia. I w ill give you what help
you need.”
I knew that she meant she would give m e not only what drachmae I
required for m y inquiries, bribes being an effective way to obtain infor
mation, but also whatever information she had about Melissia and her
acquaintances.
“I will come to you first thing in the morning.”
“No,” she said. “I will do no sleeping tonight. C om e when you are fin
ished with your examination. My servant Cleon is waiting outside with
Tysander. Cleon will guide you to Melissia.”
I nodded, taking no offense at Aspasia’s having assumed that I would
g°-
She stepped out into the light o f the torch Tysander held high. I fol
lowed and Cleon, stepping out from a dark doorway, nodded to me. H e
218 M A R IA N N E W IL S K I S T R O N G
had a length o f white linen over his arm. I did not need to ask what it
w as for. I watched A spasia disappear into the night, the pleats o f her
w hite linen chiton flowing gracefully against her slim ankles.
I turned to Cleon and started out on m y grim task.
H er body lay atop one o f Attica’s rocky outcroppings at the edge o f the
Kerim akus district, about twenty feet o ff a narrow path that took trav
elers through the Sacred Gate o f the city walls and up the Panathenaea
W ay to the district w here Pericles and Aspasia lived. I sent the slave
guarding the body back to the path to detain any stragglers who might
appear on the scene.
I knelt dow n at M elissia’s side w hile Cleon held a torch up high. I
heard Cleon groan as the light o f the torch fell on Melissia’s head. At
least, I thought it was Cleon who groaned. It may have been me, or both
o f us.
I had seen dead bodies before. Numerous times. I had even seen mu
tilated bodies: a child to m apart by wild dogs; a Helot from Sparta sav
agely beaten by his master; a drunken young sailor whose body was bro
ken by his fall from the cliffs o f Thera.
But I had never before felt the wrenching o f my gut that I felt when I
looked at Melissia. Perhaps what was so disturbing was that once ivory
colored face, so perfect for love and for song, now purplish red and sur
rounded by clumps o f blood that had oozed from the skull where the hair
h ad been ripped from her head. A bove me, the torch wavered, and I
glanced up, as much to relieve m y eyes from the sight o f Melissia’s face as
to ready m yself to catch the torch should Cleon drop it. In the torch light,
Cleon’s face was pale and his chin trembled. Mine may have as well.
I steeled myself, and turning back to Melissia, reminded myself o f how
young Hippocrates and his father might have behaved: controlled, ob
servant, checking to see what had killed the girl. I could see the stran
gulation marks on her neck: deep purple bruises and contusions. I knew
that the dark red color o f her face came from the congested blood that
could not flow through the vessels o f her neck.
I picked up her head, ignoring Cleon’s intake o f breath, and turned it
to the left. Betw een the bloody clum ps o f w h at hair rem ained were
patches o f bald scalp, some where the skin had bled, some where it had
not. W hoever had m urdered M elissia had continued to yank out her
hair even after she had ceased to breathe. I tried not to think o f the an
ger or passion that had driven her murderer. It was too early to concern
m yself with motive. I had not yet looked around enough for what phys
ical evidence might be found.
I lowered Melissia’s head and lifted one o f her hands. The hand, as I
expected, was bruised and scratched. Melissia had put up a fight against
w hoever had attacked her.
I motioned to Cleon to bring the torch a little closer. He reluctantly did
TH E L Y R E ’ S S O N G 219
so. I had no desire to violate Melissia’s dignity any more than had al
ready been done, but I had to know for sure. I lifted the hem o f her chi
ton. There were, as far as I could tell, no signs o f rape. I hadn’t expected
there to be. A rapist had no reason to pull her hair from her head. It oc
curred to me then to look about for tufts o f hair. I took the torch from
Cleon, who seemed relieved to step back from the body.
I saw immediately a few tufts scattered about the ground. Coming as
close to the edge o f rocky outcropping as I dared in the flickering light
o f the torch, I walked around the body. As I had expected, there were no
tufts o f hair on that side of the body. The m urderer had attacked from
the left, the more level side of the path, and fled the scene o f the murder
in the same direction. I walked back to the level side o f the path, pick
ing up a few tufts o f hair as I went. It was then that I noticed something
strange. Here and there, bits o f a white substance clung to the hair. In
addition to the tufts, I found strands o f hair, as i f whoever had murdered
Melissia had stood there and ripped the clumps o f hair apart. I could not
fathom why.
I was stan din g in thought w hen C leon called. “K leides,” he said.
“Look.”
I turned and threw the light o f the torch on him , h alf expecting to see
some apparition o f Medusa descending on us. I pulled my sophist’s mind
back in order.
Cleon had something white in his hand. A s I approached him I saw
that it was a square o f material: white, pure white. I took it from Cleon,
examined it, and lifted two strands o f long black hair from it. “Melissia’s
headdress,” I murmured. But something about the scarf bothered me. I
couldn’t quite determine what.
“W here did you find it?”
Cleon pointed to the ground behind him. “I stepped on it. Here.”
The scarf had lain about twelve foot-lengths from the body. The mur
derer, perhaps, had tom the scarf from M elissia’s head and throw n it.
I folded the scarf and tied it up in the hem o f m y tunic.
Then I walked in semicircles, increasing the length o f the radius from
the body, but found only a few more tufts and strands o f hair scattered
here and there. Finally, I felt that I had gathered w hat scant evidence
there was to be gathered. I would have to find M elissia’s m urderer in
the ebb and flow o f people and emotions in w hich she had lived her last
few months. There, I would need Aspasia’s help.
“Cleon,” I said, “let us wrap the body in the linen Aspasia gave you.”
We walked back to where Melissia lay and knelt by her. Cleon propped
the torch between two rocks, opened the white linen, and held it out to
me. I left it untouched for a moment while I took a last look at Melissia’s
face, not as a sophist hired to discover what in h er life had led to her
murder, but as a man who appreciated beauty and song.
Light broke over the three of us there, and I looked up at the bright
220 M A R I A N N E W IL S K I S T R O N G
moon which had appeared from behind a cloud. Some distance away, its
yellow ligh t sh one g old en on the Acropolis, w here Iktinos and
K allikrates w ere at w ork on Pericles’ new project: a great temple to
Athena. Great Athena, I said to myself, goddess o f wisdom and justice,
help m e find the m onster who did this. Then I took a breath and, slip
ping m y arms under h er shoulders, lifted Melissia so that Cleon might
begin to wrap her.
He brought the linen toward the upper part o f her body.
“Stop,” I said. “Put the linen down and hold her.”
Cleon looked at me as i f the moon goddess Selene had struck me mad.
No doubt he believed, as many o f our citizens still do, that Selene’s ap
pearance in the sky m arked a time o f increased physical passion, some
times strange and violent, but nevertheless he obeyed me.
I reached down, picked up what I had seen, rose, and took it over to
the torch. There I turned it about in my hand. It was a piece o f broken
pottery: a shard o f varyin g black shades. There was nothing unusual
about finding a shard near the cemetery; that is where we throw the
shards we use to w rite down our jury verdicts and to write down the
nam e o f som eone we w ish to ostracize, sending him into exile for ten
years if six thousand o f us so vote. I wondered if there might be some
significance to this shard’s lying beneath Melissia’s body. I examined it
again and could ju s t m ake out a scratch on the edge o f the shard, a
scratch that m ight h ave been part o f two letters. Perhaps, the lower
strokes o f epsilon and sigma. I tied the shard into another part o f m y tu
nic and started back toward Cleon, who was still holding Melissia.
Just as I got to the body, I heard a burst o f laughter. It was dulled and
far enough away not to startle me. Undoubtedly some young ruffians
out looking for m ischief in the agora. But the sound o f laughter some
how provoked m y anger, and I swore again that I would find who had
done this awful deed.
I w as still thinking about that shard as we wrapped Melissia in the
linen and sum m oned the slave to help transport her body to Aspasia.
O nly after our forlorn procession, m yself leading the way with the torch,
had m arched slowly about fifty foot-lengths did it occur to me that I had
not found som ething I should have: Melissia’s lyre. I stopped and looked
back to where she had lain. Clouds had covered the moon again and the
site o f the m urder w as lost in darkness. I knew that the lyre was not
near the body and that in the dark Athenian night I would likely not be
able to find it in the thick shrubbery off the path.
I took the shard from my tunic, turned it in my fingers a few times,
then motioned the m en to move forward past the steles, whose unpol
ished marble seem ed to throw off sparks in the light o f the torch I car
ried. I walked before them, my head bowed in thought.
W e m oved slow ly b u t steadily through th e dark streets o f Athens,

T H E L Y R E ’S SO N G 221
Melissia’s body swaying slightly between the two men. No one but the
young men whom we had heard carousing in the agora passed us, and
they were too drunk to know or care what w e were doing. It w as still
dark when we arrived at Pericles’ house. The dawn light had still not
broken over the Hymettos mountains.
As we approached the house, a door opened and a servant stepped out
with two large torches to give us a grim welcome. Aspasia had appar
ently put him on guard to watch for us.
As we stepped inside, Aspasia cam e forward. She walked straight up
to the burden the men carried and put her hand mom entarily on the
white linen. Then, without a word, she gestured to Cleon and the other
man to follow the servant into another room, nodded to me, then turned
to ascend a flight o f stairs to the wom en’s quarters, obviously expecting
me to follow. Neither she nor Pericles adhered to the ban on a m an en
tering a w om an’s quarters without her husband’s permission.
I followed her into a large room hung with tapestries woven with del
icate bird and flower designs. Ionian, no doubt. Too delicate and fanciful
for our somber Athenian weavers In one com er stood a table and on it
a statue o f Artemis, the huntress, bow and arrow at her side, an inter
esting contrast to the delicate birds on the tapestries. H ow like Aspasia
to relish such complexity.
She motioned me to a chair and 1 sat, al lowing myself for a moment
to savor the luxury of a chair with a back. Aspasia went to the table1and
poured out wine into a cup, mixing it expertly with the light amount of
water. She poured one for herself as well.
“You’ll need this after your task,” she said, handing the cup to me.
She sat opposite me and waited while 1 refreshed myself. I admired
her patience.
She gave me two minutes, then spoke. “Tell me what you found and
what you think.”
“She was strangled,” I said, lowering my cup from my lips, "and in
deed, her hair was ripped from her skull. The young man’s report was
correct.”
She nodded. “He is not given to lying to me. Did you find anything?”
“Yes,” I said. I reached down, lifted the hem o f my tunic, and untied
the shard. “Tins,” I said, handing it to her. “Melissia was lying on it.”
She looked at the shard and then at me. “But pottery shards are not
uncommon on the streets and paths o f Athens. Do you believe this shard
has something to do with Melissia’s death?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not. But it was there.”
She handed the shard back to me. “Anything else.”
“Yes.” 1handed her Melissia’s headdress. “Do you know if this is Melis
sia’s?”
She examined it. “It is not her usual headdress. She always w ore a
headdress with blue stars. The stars were a kind o f signature for her.”
I nodded. “That’s it,” I said. “I knew something was wrong about the
scarf.”
Aspasia held the sca rf up. “Som ething else is wrong. It is large, too
large. I don’t think it is a headdress. W hat made you think it was?”
“I found strands o f h er hair in it.”
Aspasia looked at the scarf again. “W hy would she wear such a scarf?
W as she hiding her face? A nd if so, from whom?”
I shook m y head. “I don’t know.”
Aspasia handed the sca rf back to me. “Anything else?”
“Yes. I could not find her lyre.”
Aspasia cocked her head sharply and narrowed her eyes. The oil sput
tered in one o f the lamps. She ignored it. There were plenty o f candles
to give light. “Melissia would have had her lyre with her,” she said, tilt
ing her head in thought. “The murderer took i t . . . ” She paused. “ . . . or
someone came along after she died and took it. O, it is still lying some
where near where she died. I suppose that in the dark, you could n o t ..
“I will go back as soon as the dawn breaks.”
She nodded. ‘Take Cleon w ith you.”
“I will. But for now, I need to know as much as possible about M elis
sia.”
A spasia rose and p ou red ou t m ore wine and w ater for m e. The
candlelight bathed h er bare arms in soft light. Once more, I envied Per
icles. He’d been unmercifully criticized for divorcing his wife, the moth
er o f his two sons, and taking up with Aspasia. The conservative aristo
crats had blackened his nam e and Aspasia’s. N ot that it mattered to the
populace. They prospered under Pericles. For my part, I understood per
fectly why Pericles wanted Aspasia, a partner both beautiful and intel
ligent.
She settled back into her chair. “Do you know Menides, Melissia’s un
cle?”
I shrugged. “A proud aristocrat,” I said, “protective o f his inherited
wealth, organizing the conservative votes in the Assembly, and, in the
agora, stingy with his m oney and dull with his conversation.”
Aspasia smiled. “An apt description. He saw everything he’d inherit
ed, both from his parents and from his brother, Melissia’s father, as ex
isting for his personal use, including Melissia.”
“You are saying w hat?”
“He took Melissia as his own hetaera when she was twelve. W hen she
was sixteen, Melissia gathered the courage to leave his home. She went
to Piraeus where the sailors found her most appealing.”
I shuddered a bit. “M ust have been an awful life for her.”
Aspasia lifted a hand. “Probably no worse than with her uncle. And
business is good in the port, especially for one so young and beautiful.
Melissia saved her money, bought herself a silk chiton, and caught the
eye o f a wealthy m erchant, as she knew she would. He paid enough for
her to b u y a lyre and to take lessons. That’s w hen I discovered her and
brought her to our symposia. W ith her talent, she had no further need
to go to Piraeus. She is . . . ” Aspasia lowered h er head, then raised it,
“. . . was, a true daughter o f Sappho.”
I nodded. I had heard Melissia sing h er poetry at symposia. “Yes,” I
said. “She bore comparison even to so great a poetess.”
Aspasia sighed. “Athens will not appreciate its loss, Melissia being a
woman. But what you must know is that Melissia went back to live in her
uncle’s house a month ago. She did not tell me why, though I asked once.”
“She would not have gone for money,” I said. “W ith your sponsorship,
she had no need for more money. She was also well paid by her lovers, I
assume.”
“As a beautiful hetaera should be,” Aspasia said.
“Do you know who her lovers were?”
Aspasia nodded. ‘You’ve met most o f them at the symposia here at one
time or another. Recently, she consorted m ainly with two men. Thyestes
gave her gold jewelry, though I believe she put up with his drunkenness
m ore for the use o f his father’s library than for the jewelry. Alcaon does
not have as much money, but M elissia appreciated his fine youthful
body and his love for her. But she did chafe under his jealousy. Still, Klei-
des, I cannot see any of these men as murderers. B ut I suppose Socrates
would insist that I subject my im pressions to a reasoned definition o f
the qualities o f a murderer.”
“And I would agree with him.”
“One more person you should know about: Phryne, a flute girl, quite
lovely and a talented flutist. She is employed by a man named Aphorus,
as M elissia once was. Phryne has played here now and again, but nei
ther Pericles nor I have hired h er recently. She w as once a friend o f
M elissia’s, but she became jealous o f M elissia’s success, both with the
lyre and with Alcaon.” Aspasia paused. “I can n ot see her strangling
Melissia, but I needn’t tell you that she should n ot be dismissed as a
m urderer simply because she is a woman.”
“No,” I said, fully aware that Aspasia h erself could hate as passion
ately as she could love. I told her I would m ake my inquiries in the ago
ra about ou r possible suspects, always rem em berin g that M elissia
might have been the victim of some m adman with a vendetta against
hetaerae.
“Go then,” Aspasia said, “and 1 will tend M elissia m yself for her bur
ial tomorrow.”
It was very like Aspasia to do that. Most people would have left the
task to a professional burial man. But A spasia, w hen she offered her
friendship, offered it with all her courage.
“Find her lyre, Kleides,” she told me as I left. “And if you do, bring it to
me in tim e for her funeral procession tomorrow.” She bowed her head.
W hen she lifted it, her dark eyes glinted in thought. “One thing more
you should know: I believe now that Melissia knew she was in danger
o f som e sort.”
I raised m y eyebrows.
‘T w o weeks ago,” Aspasia continued, “she told me that she would want
her lyre played at her funeral. She told m e that, should she die, Lais, one
o f her students, would know what song to sing. I thought at the time that
she was simply melancholy, as we all are now and then. Now . . . ” She lift
ed h er hands and dropped them. “She feared someone. Perhaps that’s
w hy she returned to Menides’ house. Kleides, find the lyre.”
W ith Cleon’s help I found it, lodged between two rocks where it had
fallen. One o f its strings had tom loose and the tortoiseshell base had
suffered scratches, like its mistress. I took it home with me, hid it among
m y scrolls until I could get it to Aspasia, and set out to talk to Phryne,
the easiest o f m y suspects to find.
A s usual, the m arketplace was already jam m ed by eight o’clock. I
bought m yself a piece o f bread for breakfast, was tem pted by a fish
m onger’s catch that didn’t look h alf rotted, picked up a bit o f honey from
a beekeeper, and made my way to the professional entertainers’ com er
o f the agora. A young man was performing some acrobatics, his short tu
nic flying as he tumbled and leapt from hands to feet, up and down. I
m ade m y way to the tent o f Aphorus, a man known for the quality o f his
flute girls and dancers. He summoned Phryne for me.
She was pretty enough, with full lips and wide-set, though smallish,
eyes. She wore a thin chiton, perfumed with olive oil and crashed vio
lets, that clung nicely to her full breasts. Two golden looped earrings
h u n g from h er ears, drawing attention to her finely pointed chin. I told
h er about Melissia’s death. She seem ed neither unduly upset nor un
duly pleased. She was well trained in keeping her emotions, whatever
they were, to herself.
She shrugged her shoulders w hen I asked if Melissia had had any
particular enemies. “Probably,” she said. “Some o f her lovers were upset
w hen she w ent back to her uncle. N ot that it should have been a sur
prise. Proved my point.”
“W hich w as?” I asked.
“That M elissia was no high and mighty hetaera.” Phryne’s eyes fol
low ed a handsom e youth with good arm and leg muscles. I could see
from the com er o f m y eye that her boss Aphorus was keeping his eyes
on her. She was probably a highly prized employee and more. “In fact,”
Phryne said, bringing her eyes back to me, “Melissia must have been a
bit o f a slut. Had to be to go back to her uncle.” She shook herself, letting
h er gold earrings jangle. “Something unsavory about him.”
“W hat?” I asked.
“Can’t say. There ju st was.” She was losing interest. H er eyes scanned
the agora crowd, looking for someone.
“Which o f h er lovers were upset?”

She looked back at me sharply. “Thyestes,” she said finally. “Though
that doesn’t mean he killed Melissia. Thyestes and Menides are friends.
They are both part o f the same drinking group. A nd they are both part
o f the aristocratic religious group that claim s descent from Theseus.
Theseus, indeed,” she sneered.
“Do you know where I could find Thyestes?”
“Likely in the wineshop by the potters’ quarters.”
“Were other lovers also jealous?”
She said nothing.
I decided to appeal to her better side, if she had one. I told her about
Melissia’s hair.
“Alcaon?” I prompted.
She looked up at m e searchingly. “You’re one o f our thinkers, aren’t
you. Trying to figure out how everything works, n ot even believing Zeus
causes storms.”
“I try to think about things before I decide w h at’s what.”
“Well, then,” she said, “Alcaon knew Menides, too. They didn’t like each
other. But that doesn’t mean anything,” she added quickly.
“Perhaps not,” I said.
She claimed not to know where I might find Alcaon. I pulled out the
shard and asked if she’d ever seen Melissia with it.
She looked at it and shrugged again. “I don’t know. W hy would I re
member a shard anyway? There’s thousands o f them around Athens.”
She had much the same reaction to the headdress.
<cWill you go to the funeral procession?” I asked.
She looked at me with big questioning eyes. “D o you think I should?”
“It would be a good thing to do.”
She nodded. “It wouldn’t be just for Melissia, you know,” she said, look
ing at me squarely. She touched her hair again. “Maybe it would b e for
me, too. For all o f us.”
I knew she meant for all the women o f Athens, and I knew that she
would go. Phryne had some character after all.
I bid her goodbye and walked just far enough away, edging toward a
sandalmaker’s stall, but keeping close enough to hear her tell another
flute girl that she was going to find Alcaon. Phryne was a woman who
wasted no time.
U nable to find Thyestes at the wineshop, I h eaded next to the villa
o f M elissia’s uncle, w alking outside the city walls toward Piraeus. On
the way out o f the agora, I saw some Scythian slave police hauling o ff
a man in a dirty tunic yelling that he hadn’t really added ground stone
to his barley to take it over the official w eight, th at his prices w ere
honest. Judging by their rough handling, the Scythians didn’t think
so.
On the road to M enides’ villa I passed a potter w ho tried to sell me
one o f the pots he carried in a large basket on his donkey’s side. He had
only two pots left and they looked ill done, in a splotchy black that any
one would have recognized as the mark of a careless or talentless pot
ter.
“I’ve sold a good m any pots lately,” he remarked when he saw m y dis
taste for his inferior goods. H e looked at my slightly shabby tunic. “I ju st
thought you looked as if you could use one o f these.”
I tripped him as he started to walk away and he challenged me to a
fistfight, but I had other things than scurrilous potters on my mind.
M enides ow ned a luxurious villa, with a finely laid red k ey design
on the m osaic floor in the andron where a slave led me to w ait for his
master. A s I w aited I noticed telltale signs o f the passing o f the h ey
day o f M enides’ aristocratic family: a few cracks in the plaster walls
and a bucklin g in part o f the mosaic floor. It looked to have been re
cently patched.
Menides, however, looked aristocratic and prosperous enough in his
white tunic, arranged carefully to drape over one shoulder. His beard
was nicely trim m ed and his eyes intelligent. But I saw what Phryne
meant. There w as som eth in g o f the wild boar about him; m aybe his
slightly flattened nose, or maybe the way he moved his head from side
to side as if preparing to charge. He expressed sorrow over M elissia’s
death and informed m e that he was satisfied with Aspasia handling the
funeral procession.
I asked him w hy M elissia had returned to his villa.
His head shifted to the left. “For exactly the reason anyone observant
might have realized. Money, or lack o f it. She had expensive tastes.”
“She could have gone to live with any one o f her lovers.”
He smiled, a very thin smile. “Melissia was not known for steadiness.
She tired easily o f her lovers.”
Hetaerae often did, but I didn’t know if this were true or not o f M elis
sia, so I said nothing. I pulled out the shard. “I found this by her body.
Have you ever seen it.”
His head shifted to the right. He took the shard from my hand and ex
amined it, turning it over several times. Then he threw it back into my
open palm . “T housands o f those things all over Athens. H ow can you
possibly tell it had anything to do with her?”
“I can’t.” I put the shard back in the leather pouch I was carrying and
pulled out the headdress. “Was Melissia wearing this when she left your
house yesterday?”
He lifted his hands, palms up. “I didn’t take particular notice o f what
she wore.”
“I understand that she left alone.”
“Yes,” he said. H e glanced over his shoulder at nothing in particular.
“I believe that she did leave alone. She had little use for following the
rules a w om an should follow.”
I knew this to be true, so I said nothing. I’d already seen and heard
enough to set m y mind o ff on a possible solution to the murder.
I took my leave o f Menides, but stopped outside to ask a kitchen slave
girl if a potter had recently sold his wares here. She looked blank until
I offered two obols. The potter, she told me, h ad indeed com e to the
house, several times.
I set off toward the city again, fairly certain o f m y theory o f the m ur
der, but I still wanted to interview A lcaon and Thyestes. So I headed
again for the wineshop.
I found Thyestes there this time, laying out a good deal o f drachmae
for two amphorae o f Chian wine. Melissia and Chian wine. Thyestes had
expensive tastes. I wondered how he afforded them. He had inherited
wealth, but he was known to have squandered a fair amount o f it.
He seemed shocked to hear o f M elissia’s death. “Great Zeus,” he sput
tered. “When did she die?”
I told him how I’d found her last night, omitting a few details ju st in
case I needed to use them later.
He walked away from the wineshop toward a patch o f weeds, and sat
down heavily on a rock. “I can’t believe it,” he muttered, his eyes bright
with tears.
I noticed that one eye looked bluish, as if it were in recovery from a
fist having hit it.
“I told her,” he mumbled, “I told her.”
‘Told her what?”
“Nothing.” His lips quivered, but whether from drink or sorrow I could
not tell.
‘T old her w hat?” I repeated. “You’d best tell m e to avoid suspicion,
Thyestes.”
“I, I . . .” He stopped. “Just th a t she sh ouldn ’t have gon e back to
Menides. That’s all.”
‘You think Menides might have killed her?”
“No. No. W hy would he? B u t. . .” He dropped his head. “I ju st think
she shouldn’t have returned. No need.”
A woman selling some goats’ cheese that looked a bit green around
the edges approached. I shooed her away and then drew the shard from
my pouch. “Recognize this?”
Thyestes barely glanced at my hand. H e fumbled with the wine am
phorae, his hands shaking. “No.”
“Sure?” I asked. “Take a look.”
“I don’t recognize it.” He stood up. “I have to go now.”
“Know any o f the potters here?” I asked, gesturing toward the potters’
sheds.
“No,” he said. H e started to walk away, then stopped and turned to me.
“I’m sorry. I’m very sorry about Melissia. I’m sorry.”
“Aspasia is conducting her funeral this afternoon. Will you go?”
H e hesitated. “I can’t. N ot feeling well.” He turned and hastened out

o f the agora.
I was pretty sure then that m y theory was right. So far, only Phryne
h ad given me the right reaction to the shard. Not that Thyestes hadn’t
told the truth. In fact, h e could not possibly have recognized this partic
ular shard. H e’d hardly looked at it. I had one more person to ask.
I collected Melissia’s lyre and set out for the funeral procession that
was to proceed from Pericles’ house to Kerimakus Cemetery.
W hen I arrived at th e house, I found the mourners gathered round
the bier. I was about to join them when Tysander came over and sum
m oned me inside.
Aspasia was waiting. She w ore a black chiton edged with gold and a
veil that m ade her large dark eyes larger and darker. Her hair was
pulled back and held u p with a simple black band. She was breathtak
ing, but she gave me n o time to study her beauty.
“Do you have the lyre?” she asked.
I handed it to her. She motioned to Tysander, gave him the lyre, and
instructed him to take it outside to the young girl in dark blue.
“She is Lais,” Aspasia told me. “She is to play the lyre and sing M elis
sia’s poem at the gravesite.”
I nodded. I did not have to be told that Melissia’s funeral w ould not
b e standard. Aspasia would have no qualms about ignoring traditions
she disliked. She had hired no professional mourners to wail and tear
th eir hair. M elissia’s fun eral w ould be conducted with dign ity and
beauty.
We w ent out to in itiate the procession. It was not large. A spasia
walked behind M elissia’s bier and behind her came Menides, his head
m oving from side to side, his face wooden. Eight or nine o f M elissia’s
friends and fellow m usic students walked behind Menides. In the cen
ter o f them the you n g Lais, strumming the lyre softly, sang a song in a
sweet youthful voice. Behind the friends, Alcaon walked with his head
bowed. Thyestes had not come. I took the liberty o f moving about in the
procession, now near M enides, now near Alcaon, watching faces. I could
see nothing but despair in that o f Alcaon and nothing at all in that o f
Menides.
“Alcaon,” I said, stepping beside him.
He turned his head slightly toward me.
I opened my fist to show him the shard. “Do you recognize this?”
He looked at it, then looked up at me as if he intended to strangle me.
“This is a funeral. W h y are you bothering me with this?”
“It might have som ething to do with Melissia’s death.”
He looked at the shard again. “What could that have to do w ith her
death?”
“D o you recognize it?”
He frowned dow n at the shard. “Is there something peculiar about it?”
THE LYR E ’S S O N G 229
“Maybe,” I said.
He looked again and shook his head. “It looks like an ordinary shard.”
I put the shard away, satisfied. “Do you know w hy Melissia returned
to her uncle’s villa?”
He balled one hand into a fist and rubbed it into the palm o f the oth
er hand. “She was frightened about something.”
“W hat?”
He sh ook his head. “I don’t know. She w ou ld n ’t tell me. B ut it had
something to do with that wine swiller, m ay he drown in the sea like a
dog.”
“Thyestes?” I asked.
“He said something to her or did something, that filthy cistern. What
ever he did or said, she didn’t seem to trust anybody anymore.”
“Did you fight with him?”
He rubbed his fist harder. “Not yet.”
I dropped back, thinking. Thyestes had seem ed sincere when he’d said
he warned Melissia about returning to her uncle’s place. But he had al
so told her something that compelled her to return to her uncle. I was
pretty sure I knew what.
I dropped back further, near Phryne, w h o brought up the rear. Her
eyes flick ed from the bier ahead to A lcaon . Sorrow, anger, and love
played across her face.
I left the funeral early, seeking Thyestes again. He was nowhere to be
found. I w asn’t entirely surprised. I returned then to Aspasia.
She w as still in her mourning clothes, w aiting im patiently for me.
When I entered her room she put aside a scroll. I noted that it was Sap
pho’s poetry.
‘Tell m e what you know,” she said, m otioning m e to a chair. Thought
ful as always, she had put some goat cheese, olives, and bread on a tri
pod by my chair, along with a cup o f wine. ‘T e ll m e what you know,” she
repeated, “then eat and drink.”
I got to the point. “One o f Menides’ slave girls was hungry enough for a
bribe to tell me that Menides had a good deal o f cheap pottery brought in
to the house. I had thought as much.” I told Aspasia about the pottery deal
er I had seen leaving Menides’ farm. “He was carrying pottery like this,” I
said, pulling out from my pouch the shard I had found beneath Melissia’s
head. “When Phiyne and Alcaon looked at it, neither could imagine how
they could recognize one shard among thousands in Athens. Menides de
nied recognizing it, but his interest in examining it in detail told me he had
something to do with it. And I knew Thyestes had something to do with it
when he denied recognizing it without looking at it. I suspect he gladly par
ticipated in the plot. He’d do it for money. Besides, he belongs to the same
aristocratic cult group as Menides, and he hangs around near the potters
in the agora. Menides would have found that useful.”
A spasia took the shard, examined it, and looked up at m e sharply.

“ You suspect that there are many such shards?”
I knew that her quick m ind had understood the danger. “Yes, proba
bly several thousand, particularly if other members o f Menides’ aristo
cratic cult are involved in preparing sham shards. They’ll bribe some
one to load the shards into the ostracism urns at the m eeting o f the
Assembly.”
“Enough shards,” she said, “with the disgruntled three or so thousand
w ho always vote to exile Pericles and to damage and even to destroy the
dem ocracy he has nurtured so painstakingly, to make up the needed six
thousand votes.”
I nodded. “Note the strokes. From epsilon and sigma.”
Aspasia looked again at the shard and nodded. “I see. And Melissia
knew?”
“I think she had smuggled out some shards from her uncle’s house.
W oven in her hair. And covered with the white scarf.”
“But how did Melissia know about the shards?”
“Thyestes, I believe. An impassioned lover, drunk to boot. I suspect he
was bragging about his role in the plot. If I’m right, then when he so
bered up, he realized that he’d put Melissia in danger because she in
tended to return to her uncle’s place to find the evidence o f the plot
against Pericles. He tried to stop her from going to her uncle’s place. I
su sp ect th a t w h en he cou ldn ’t stop her, he betrayed h er and told
M enides about her.”
Aspasia shook her head slowly, her dark eyes lowered. “W hy did she
risk her life? W hy didn’t she just tell me?”
“She was a hetaera, and one who had worked the port, about to accuse
her uncle and his aristocratic group o f treason. Even Pericles couldn’t
have acted on ju st her word. Accusations without proof against an aris
tocrat would have ruined her for good.”
“So she died trying to bring the proof to me, her hair ripped out with
the hidden shards.”
I nodded again. “I believe so. That’s why I found bits o f white clay in
her hair, and why there were loose strands lying about. The murderer
pulled the clumps o f hair apart to get at the shards.”
“W hy didn’t she take along a servant to protect her?” Aspasia asked,
sorrow etching her voice.
I rem em bered h ow easily I had bribed the kitchen slave girl at
M enides’ villa. “Bring a servant o f Menides? Could she have trusted any
o f them ? H ow could she be sure they were not in on the plot? Besides,”
I said, rem em bering Alcaon’s anger, “at that point she trusted no one.”
We sat silently for a while, the torches lighting the golden edges o f As-
pasia’s black veil and the ivory inlay on the sides o f her chair.
W hen she looked up I could see the anger in her eyes. “We must se
TH E LYRE’S SO N G 231
cure the p roof to discredit the cult group involved and to protect Peri
cles,” she said. “M elissia must not have died for nothing.”
“T h e problem ,” I said, “is where to look. T h a t know ledge died with
Melissia.”
Aspasia sat back in her chair, her head down.
“Maybe . . . ” I said, stopping when she held up a hand.
“Perhaps,” she said, “the knowledge did not die with M elissia.” She
rose, walked over to a chest, opened it, and returned w ith a piece o f pa
pyrus. “This,” she said, handing me the papyrus, “is the song M elissia
wanted sung at her funeral.”
I rose, took the papyrus closer to a torch and read:
M y clear lyre sings the brilliance o f A th en s’ great son,

A nd the brilliance o f the shining star at his side.
For they have given crowns to the poets;
They have given voice to the people.
By them I have known golden love and beauty;

M y heart has sung its songs.
M ay the lurking scorpions
Locked in the dark earth
Beneath the rust-red, key
N ever darken their golden light
Or silence my sun-bright songs.
W hen I finished I looked at Aspasia.

“Does it tell you anything?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said. “Melissia’s told us where to look. Should w e alert Peri
cles?” I asked.
“No,” she said, “Melissia was right. We must have the p roof first.” She
motioned me to sit again. “I have a plan, but you must feel free n ot to
agree to it.”
I nodded, though I knew I would agree to whatever she wanted.
She told me her plan and, o f course, I agreed even though I thought
that it was not foolproof. It depended on A spasia’s pow er to fascinate,
about which I had no doubt, but deliberately keeping occupied a man al
ready tensed with conspiracy and m urder was tricky business. But we
ironed out the details, and once Aspasia had set the plan in motion, I set
out to do my part. I had no suspicion o f Aspasia’s real plan.
I used my bribe m oney to get back into M enides’ house. It took m e lit
tle time to pull up the buckled part o f the mosaic floor with its rust-red
key design. Kneeling, I began to collect out o f the hole beneath the floor
pouches o f the shards with Pericles’ name scratched in them. Suddenly
I was jerked back and choked with the force of an arm that had locked
round my neck. I saw the knife pointed at my heart.
“Cur,” Menides cursed. “H ow did you know where they were?”
I gasped and croaked, wondering, even in my fear, how he expected
me to answer w ith m y throat so constricted.
“H ow ?” he shouted in m y ear. “Has that cur Thyestes been talking
again?”
I croaked again, and h e released my throat a bit, but kept the knife
angled straight at m y heart. I croaked some more, giving m yself tim e to
think. Something had gone w rong with the plan. Aspasia had not been
able to keep M enides delayed as long as we had agreed. The point o f the
knife dug through m y tunic and into m y flesh.
“H ow?” M enides growled.
“A song,” I m uttered, the sound barely coming from my throat.
“Fool,” M enides growled. “N o matter, swine,” he spit into my ear. “I’ll
rid m yself o f you ju st as I rid m yself o f that damned little tart. For your
information, sophist, she didn’t quite leave my house alone. I had her
watched carefully and followed her when she made her move with the
shards.” He laughed. “Athens will soon be rid o f that damned Pericles,
too. By the tim e he returns from exile, the mob he caters to will be put
back in their place.”
H e raised the knife.
I, a sophist who does not believe in the gods, said a prayer to Hermes
to guide me safely to the underworld.
“O r perhaps, Menides,” Aspasia’s voice rang out, “the people you call
the mob will vote in court to condemn you.”
Menides sw ung round to face Aspasia and the three Scythian police
and the two w itnesses she had brought with her. I grabbed the knife
from Menides’ hand. H e hardly reacted. He just dropped both arms to
his sides. H e was sm art enough to know when he was defeated. The
Scythians carted him off.
I rubbed m y throat.
A spasia cam e over to me. “Thyestes has already confessed to the
Scythian police I sent after him. They found him on the road to Piraeus.
He was fleeing Athens, afraid o f Menides’ wrath. Apparently he’d already
suffered from it. He’s admitted that he told Melissia about the plot.”
I nodded, still rubbing my throat and remembering Thyestes’ injured
eye.
Aspasia laid a h an d on m y arm. M y throat ceased to b u m , but my
heart heated up. “Forgive me, KSeides,” she said. “I curtailed my delay o f
Menides. I knew that neither Thyestes nor I, nor you, would necessari
ly be believed, even w ith the shards. Menides has m any friends. W e had
to have incontrovertible p roof from his own house and from his own
mouth, and before witnesses. We followed him closely, but I deeply re
gret having to put you to any risk at all.”
TH E L Y R E ’S S O N G 233
I didn’t care about the risk, only that she hadn’t trusted m e w ith the
whole plan. But the regret in her dark eyes lay so deep that I forgave
her immediately. How could I do otherwise? She had saved our beloved
Athens.
As I sit here now, almost thirty years later, wondering if or w hen Spar
ta will defeat us, I fear that democracy, w hich Pericles brought to such
greatness, democracy which Melissia died to save, may be wiped from
the face o f the earth and disappear with the glory o f our city.
ROOKED & PRINTEn
oy Johansen’s p rotagon ist Joe Bailey is dubbed the “Spirit
R Basher” by his fellow Atlanta cops. In B eyon d B e lie f (Ban

tam, $5.99), Joe is called to investigate the fatal impaling o f a
university parapsychology professor on a sculpture mounted on his own
wall. W hy does this scene call for the department’s ace debunker o f fake
spiritualists and m edium s? Because the deadly artwork hangs som e
eight feet off the floor. Could the local press be correct when they nam e
as the culprit a very you n g boy whom the dead man was touting as a
gifted psychokinetic? B ailey thinks not, but proving so will be more dan
gerous than one would suspect. Johansen’s engaging cop adds a new
twist to the police procedural genre, and while Bailey is a certified skep
tic, readers interested in psychic phenomena will enjoy the ride, espe
cially the budding relationship between the detective and a woman who
sincerely believes h erself to be psychic.
C arol G oodm an’s T h e L a k e o f D e a d Languages (Ballantine,
$23.95) beckons readers into the quiet, cloistered, claustrophobic world
o f the Heart Lake School for Girls in the Adirondacks, a setting as care
ful ly drawn as is the portrait o f the book’s narrator and protagonist,
Jane Hudson. From the opening pages, we sense the school’s potential
for menace, although Jane h erself clearly hopes that by returning to
teach Latin here, where she was once a student, she will be able to re
cover her balance from her recent divorce and begin a new life with her
you n g daughter. So m uch has changed, Jane reasons, in the tw enty
years that have passed since the tragedy that robbed her o f her two best
friends. The very character o f the school has undergone revision. W hat
was once an elite and prestigious academy is now a last resort for girls
w ho have proven troublesom e at other institutions. Yet something here
has perhaps not changed enough; Jane begins to receive messages from
h er past. Goodman h as written a dark, engaging novel, with several
surprising twists at the end.
Every family has its back story— and its secrets. Will Klein’s family
Illustration by June Ix'Virw 234
B O O K E D & P R IN T E D 235
had them aired by the media eleven years earlier w hen Will’s ex-girl
friend, a college coed and neighbor nam ed Julie Miller, w as found dead
in h er fam ily’s home, the victim o f a brutal rap e and stabbing. The
prim e suspect immediately became the you n g m an w h o disappeared
that same evening, Will’s older, beloved brother Ken. Harlan C oben’s
G o n e fo r G o o d (Delacorte, $23.95) opens with a surprising deathbed
revelation by Will’s mother: his brother Ken, so long a popular subject
for the media and true-crime wrap-up shows, is alive. W ill has always
loyally defended Ken, refusing to believe that he m urdered Julie, se
cretly suspecting that Ken was also killed th at night, his body taken
elsewhere and never found. But a photograph discovered in his late
mother’s room proves otherwise. All too soon W ill is going to lose the sec
ond love o f his life, and find himself in the m iddle o f a deadly game that
twisted into m urder that long ago sum m er n ig h t and has been sus
pended— until now. The game has resumed, and Will appears to be ev
eryone’s pawn. Coben grabs the reader by the throat from the opening
scene and continues to surprise up to the very final pages.
Sarah Strohmeyer’s heroine in B u b b le s U n b o u n d (Signet, $6.99) is
a sm all-tow n Pennsylvania girl, a skillful beau tician (although she
prefers the term "stylist"), a single mom, and a w annabe journalist with
an uncanny nose for news. She can stack a tight sweater and miniskirt
with the best o f them, and she bears up under the sobriquet o f Bubbles
Yablonsky with remarkable aplomb. M ost o f these assets— and I’m in
cluding the Mutt-and-Jeff team o f her vertically-challenged mother and
oversized friend— will serve Bubbles well when she begins her investi
gation into the case o f the long-dead high school cheerleader and the
missing drunken heiress. What this wacky debut novel lacks in credi
bility it makes up for in Bubbles’ guffaw-producing antics.
M o Hayder, author o f the acclaimed Bird m an, brings back her belea
guered D.I. Jack Caffery in a big, suspenseful book titled T h e T re a t
m e n t (Doubleday, $23.95). The book opens with a frantic search for a
nine-year-old boy who has been abducted from his home. The parents,
suffering from dehydration and abuse, report having been bound and
left for the past three days. Still, Caffery is certain that the eyewitness
report o f a man seen running into the nearby park mere hours earlier
is the lead that he must follow. Not surprisingly, this disappearance
brings back all o f Jack’s own memories and fuels his personal obsession
with the now old man who lives across the tracks from Jack’s boyhood
hom e. Jack has no doubt that this is the m an w h o took his brother
Ewan when they were boys. With one conviction for child sexual abuse,
Jack’s neighbor had been a suspect but was cleared by cronies. Hayder
spares no punches here; the forensic detail and accounts o f psychotic be
havior and perversion are all too graphic. Even tougher, perhaps, is the
em otional strain she puts on her characters, especially Jack and his
lover, and the shocking twist she has devised to accou n t for you n g
236 B O O K E D & P R IN T E D
Ewan’s disappearance so long ago. This book’s impossible to set down,

b u t it is definitely not for the faint o f heart.
Leslie O’Kane’s canine therapist, Allie Babcock, can generally point
directly to the source o f a neurotic dog’s behavior: his neurotic owner.
But in G iv e th e D o g a B o n e (Fawcett, $6.99), it may be difficult to re
train owner Ken Culberson to treat his rambunctious golden retriever
Maggie as a trained pet. Ken believes Maggie to be channeling the spir
it o f his late ex-wife. By novel’s end, Allie has had to contend with her
b oyfrien d ’s d og phobia, several unearthed hum an bones, a police
grilling, a hostile vet, two nosy mobile home residents, a surprising will
codicil— oh, and murder. All o f this, however, Allie manages with more
grace and efficiency than she exhibits with the miscreant Maggie. If you
were hoping for som e dog training tips, you’ll either have to wait for the
next Allie m ystery or go back and search through an earlier case.
Steve H am ilton ’s fourth Alex M cK night mystery, N o rth o f N o
w h e re (St. M artin’s Minotaur, $23.95), treats readers to summertime
in Paradise, A lex’s hom e and stomping grounds on Michigan’s Upper
Penninsula. For residents o f a place that sees so much ice and snow in
a year, the brief sum m er is a time o f enchantment, a season to truly sa
vor. Alex, however, has been gloomily keeping to himself, which is rea
son enough for his buddy Jackie to demand that Alex join his weekly
poker gam e at the showcase home o f a local mover and shaker. Alex
doesn’t warm to the guy, nor does he appreciate the man’s big plans to
develop Alex’s heretofore isolated section o f lakefront. The worst part of
the evening, however, is when three armed and masked men rush in
and rob the owner’s safe. Hamilton’s hero is easy to be with, his friends
and haunts are unusual enough to be exotic, and he’s no slouch when it
comes to reasoning his way through a pretty tricky patch o f plots. I’d
recommend this guy to anyone who enjoys P.I. novels.
I’ve been a fan o f Earl W. Emerson’s Thomas Black private eye nov
els for years. In V e rtic a l B u m (Ballantine, $24.95), Emerson intro
duces fans both old and new to Seattle firefighter John Finney. Finney
is both son and brother o f firemen, a man decorated for bravery and re
spected for his abilities. But on a June night when a call com es in about
a warehouse fire on Leary Way, Finney’s life will take a dramatic turn
downward. His losses will prove almost too much to bear, and his ob
session to discover the truth o f the Leary Way fire will threaten every
thing he holds dear. Emerson brings twenty-four years o f experience as
a firefigh ter with the Seattle Fire D epartm ent to this novel, and it
shows in every behind-the-scene detail. Loyalty, greed, conspiracy, and
jealousy are the themes that fuel Emerson’s fire here. The result is a hot
new book with an engaging main character, an incendiary plot, a siz
zling romance, and several explosive action sequences. Warm up with
this one until the beaches open.
editor ’s notes 237
(c o n tin u ed fr o m p a g e 7)
Best First Mystery Short Story is B est Fact C rime

also presented yearly at the Edgar Son o f a G rifter b y K en t W a lk e r
banquet. This year it went to Ted w ith M a rk S ch o n e (W illia m
Hertel, Jr., for his story “My Bon M o rro w )
nie Lies,” published in the M am Leavenworth TYain:A F ugitive’s
moth Book o f Legal Thrillers. Search fo r Justice in the Vanish
ing West by Joe Jackson (Carroll
BEST NOVEL & Graff)
Silent Joe b y T. J efferso n The Wrong M an: The Final Verdict
P ark er (H yp erion ) on the Dr. Sam Sheppard
The Judgem ent by D. W. Buffa M urder Case by James N eff
(Warner) (Random House)
Tell N o One by Harlan Coben Dark Dreams: Sexual Violence,
(Delacorte) Homicide, and the Cri.minal
Money, Money, M oney by Ed Mind by Roy Hazelwood and
McBain (Simon & Schuster) Stephen G. Michaud (St. M ar
Reflecting the Sky by S. J. Rozan tin’s)
(St. M artin’s Minotaur) Base Instincts: What M akes Killers
Kill ? by Jonathan H. Pincus, M.D.
B est F irst N ovel by an A merican (Norton)
A uthor
Line o f Vision b y D a v id E llis B est C riticai /B iographical W ork
(P u tn am ) E dgar A lla n Poe: A t o Z b y
Open Season by C. J. Box D a w n B . S o v a (F acts O n
(Putnam) F ile/C h eck m a rk )
Red Hook by Gabriel Cohen The History o f Mystery by M ax
(Thomas Dunne/St. Martin’s Allan Collins (Collectors)
Minotaur) Dashiell H am m ett: A Daughter
Gun M onkeys by Victor Gischler Rem em bers by Jo H am m ett
(Uglytown) (Carol & Graff/Otto Penzler)
The Jasmine Trade, by Denise My N am e’s Friday by Michael J.
Hamilton (Scribner) Hayde (Cumberland House)
Selected Letters o f Dashiell H am
B est Paperback O riginal mett: 1921-1960 Edited by
Adios M uchachos b y D an iel Richard Laym an with Julie M.
C h a v a rria (A k ash ic) Rivett (Counterpoint)
Hell’s Kitchen by Jefferey Deaver Who Was That Lady ? by Jeffrey
writing as William Jeffries (Packet) Marks (Delphi)
The Mother Tongue by Teri
Holbrook (Bantam) B est S hort S tory
Dead o f Winter by P. J. Parrish “ D ou ble-C rossin g D elan cey” b y
(Pinnacle) S. J. R ozan (P rivate E y e W rit
Straw M en by Martin J. Smith ers o f A m erica, M ystery Street,
(Jove) P enguin P utn am /S ign et)
238 editor ’s notes
“The Abbey Ghosts” by Jan Burke Law & Order: SVU: “Countdown”
(AHMM, Jan.) by Lisa Marie Petersen and
“The Horrible, Senseless Murders Dawn DeNoon
o f Two Elderly W om en” by The Practice: “Killing Time” by
Michael Collins (Fedora) Jonathan Shapiro, Lukas Reiter,
“I f the Glove Fits” by M ichael Z. Peter Blake, and David E.
Lewin (EQM M , SeptVOct.) Kelley
“Virgo in Sapphires” by Margaret NYPD Blue: “Johnny Got His Gold”
Maron (EQMM , Dec.) by Nicholas Wootton, story by
Stephen Boehco, Bill Clark, and
B est Y oung A dult Nicholas Wootton
The B oy in th e B u rn in g H ouse
b y T im W y n n e-J o n e s (Farar, B est TV F eature/M in iseries
S tra u s a n d G iro u x /M e la n ie The Sins b y W illia m Iv o ry
K rou p a) (BBC A m erica)
Dark Secrets: D on’t Tell by Eliza Things Behind the Sun by Alison
beth Chandler (Pocket/Archway) Anders and Kurt Voss (Showtime)
Death on Sacred G round by The Killing Yard by Benita Garvin
Harriet K. Feder (L em er) (Showtime)
Shades o f Sim on G ray by Joyce Final Jeopardy by Adam Greenman
McDonald (Delacorte) (from the novel by Linda
Witch Hill b y M arcus Sedgwick Fairstein; Sanitsky Company)
(Delacorte) Steve Martini’s The Judge by
Christopher Lofton (from the
B est J uvenile novel by Steve Martini;
D angling b y L illia n E ig e Jaffe/Braunstein Films)
(Sim on & Schuster/A theneum )
Ghost Soldier by Elaine Marie B est M ystery M otion P icture
Alphin (H enry Holt) M em ento by C h risto p h e r
The Ghost Sitter by Peni R. Griffin N olan (N ew m a rk et F ilm s)
(Penguin Putnam /Dutton) The Man Who W asn’t There by
Following Fake M a n by Barbara Ethan Coen and Joel Coen
Ware Holmes (Alfred A. Knopf) (USA Films)
B ug Muldoon by Paul Shipton Gosford Park by Julian Fellowes
(Penguin Putnam/Viking) (USA Films)
Mulholland Drive by David Lynch
B est T elevision E pisode (Universal Focus)
The Sopranos: "T h e P in e Series 7: The Contenders by Daniel
B arrens” b y T e re n c e W in ter, Minahan (U SA Films)
sto ry b y T im V a n P a tten an d
T eren ce W in te r Special E dgar: Blake Edwards
Nero Wolfe: “Prisoner’s Base, Part 2”
by Lee G oldberg and William This Year’s G rand M aster w as
Rabkin Robert B. Parker.
STORY THAT WON
The February Mysterious Orlando, Florida; M artha
Photograph contest was won Bland of Midland, Texas;
by Andrew McAllister of Benjamin H. Foreman of
Fredericton, New Brunswick, Harbor Oaks, Florida; Dan
Canada. Honorable men iel LeBoeuf of Lake Orion,
tions go to Richard Ricketts Michigan; Doc Finch o f Zion,
of Largo, Florida: Art Cosing Illinois; Regina M. Sestak of
Hulton Archives
of Fairfax, Virginia; Ed Ridg- Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania;
ley of Phenix City, Alabama; Nicole Sheldon-Desjardins
Robert Kesling of Ann A r of Minneapolis, Minnesota;
bor, Michigan; Kate Karp of and W. B. Borrebach of
Long Beach, California; FYances Lowe of Newtown Square, Pennsylvania.
O V E R TH E ED GE b y A n d rew M cA llister
Milo Jackson took one more halting backwards step down Lincoln’s
nose. His crash course in mountain climbing had not prepared him for
the terror o f hanging from a rope near the top o f M ount Rushmore.
But Milo was nothing if not persistent. For years he had pestered his
grandfather with questions about the Des M oines Brinks robbery o f
1947, the crime for which LeRoy Jackson had spent the better part o f
his adult life in prison.
“Tell me about the money, G randpa,” M ilo would say, know ing full
well it had never been recovered. ,fW hat happened to the money?”
On his bad days LeRoy would ju st stare vacantly, his toothless mouth
working constantly as he ignored the world around him. When he was
more coherent, however, the old man would tap his nose and mumble:
“Abe Lincoln nose.”
The words were m ushy around the edges but M ilo heard th em
en ough times to m ake sense o f th em , esp ecia lly since he knew his
grandfather had spent six years as part o f the crew that built the M ount
Rushmore memorial.
So it was that Milo found him self dangling beneath a giant pair o f
granite nostrils, shining his flashlight expectantly upwards.
O f course he found nothing. LeRoy had hidden the money in a hollow
neon sign that hung outside an Italian restaurant known affectionate
ly by Des Moines residents in days gone by as T h e Schnozz. Which was
w hy the old man kept telling Milo: “A blinkin’ nose.”
239
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ALFREDS HITCHCOCK’S

SPECIAL SUMMER DOUBLE ISSUE!

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FROM THE PUBLISHER 4

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A L F R E D H IT C H C O C K ’S M YSTE R Y M AGAZINE (USPS:523-590, ISSN:©002-5224), Vol. 47, Nos. 7 and

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spouses, a long evening o f w on­ stories. Th e stories, given and re­

Each spring the Mystery Writ­ and ou tstan d in g people in the

rologue: Editor’s note— The lies o f mankind, his ow n included.

P story o f the grea t good fo r­

Cranefield. M anuscripts cam e into

have refused, fo r instance, to ren­ celebrate? Nay. I sit and write, he

tice. He looked me up and down as Richard the Second.” H e paused

steel, three bowstrings; a quiver father-in-law or lender o f money

“In its scabbard?” “Ah,” said the justice, and let it go

“I did no s u ch .. etly. “W e have no p roof th a t he

“Milord "said I. against Fatguard, not really, so I

tasted in som e time. H e set be­ “How is your Latin?”

solved, a criminal exiled, and satis­ including me. H e wanted to hear o f

bade m e to take my nourishment eating slowly and listening to his

m e as I leaned on m y sword and That w as reasoning I could un­

parchment, or other item of magic As I lay behind that altar hearing

“Till Doomsday, then.” The justice did not answer until

A vision o f a child o f Limoges car­ them. “You’re free to go now, Adam,”

pair o f hands and a head sticking I thou gh t I could see h is face

Y er believe in luck or coincidence. And yet I m ight have been

hair one way or another, gain At that moment a hand grips m y

ANIJARY, 1863 rest on the flap o f his holster, confi­

D’Ossche struck a match against offense at being quartered at the

gerously threaten our vital supply window nervously smoking a long

many o f the corpses I had seen on he turned to me. “Captain Wallace,

port back to his regiment. Howev­ pull some o f Porter A lexander’s

and looking as if he had been in someone could have com e to his

“Well, is he?” began to wonder how long I could

“Y essim , yessim ,” E ffie said, said. “I am more concerned with

“I beg your pardon, m a’am ?” “Why, of course. He should be in

here are three detective glanced at a piece o f paper in his

T agencies listed in the River

A nd then it hit him. o f law yers and an orthodontist.

that around here,” one bearded, It was D el Johnson’s high school

lars an hour, so you owe m e thirty clack, bathing everything in a sick­

batter’s box, “Johnson doesn’t make ‘Y ou would expect to see some

finally got out. “I’ve never been in a piest nickel-and-dim e detective

One night, m y m other came out.

__ M L _XL __ XXL $9.99 each $

__ M _L XL __ XXL $9.99 each $

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spouses, a long evening o f w on stories. Th e stories, given and re

Each spring the Mystery Writ and ou tstan d in g people in the

P story o f the grea t good fo r

have refused, fo r instance, to ren celebrate? Nay. I sit and write, he

tasted in som e time. H e set be “How is your Latin?”

solved, a criminal exiled, and satis including me. H e wanted to hear o f

m e as I leaned on m y sword and That w as reasoning I could un

A vision o f a child o f Limoges car them. “You’re free to go now, Adam,”

ANIJARY, 1863 rest on the flap o f his holster, confi

port back to his regiment. Howev pull some o f Porter A lexander’s

lars an hour, so you owe m e thirty clack, bathing everything in a sick

A lo’s chili and began to ex

the Ten Commandments. “N o, ev “Is your husband home?” asked

grabbed his wallet to make it look polypropylene. Details o f m an u

family would be notified, arrange off-center to the rear. Easy enough

there’s ju st one o f him , and he wasn’t a plant-eater. H e was a nasty lit

class. We were finishing up a sum to a group o f kids near the back o f

ly normal, perfectly ordinary sopho houses or other buildings on it; it

dering how it w as th at a black berant spirit will be sorely missed

Then, as everyone started leav going to college. You think Fm going

night snack, an early breakfast, “I took these with Emma Pres

up as a possibility” he agreed soft sort o f way. The front room had

(2) Five minutes later in another co m e r o f th e great palace b a ll

Foster w as waiting for us. A t trol may tell Immigration. Or some

“I have no desire to sabotage any this presentation to Richter. But I

p loyee w as escorted ou t o f the again. “Frankly, I’m slightly disap

G because he’d been a vol dodging revenue boats and the

Boylan, and their Franklin motor “T h e C hicago N ew s— the best