Robert Tanenbaum - Absolute rage

"Where'n hell did you come from, Ernie?" asked the cop.

"I was in the kitchen pouring some coffee when this commotion started. I saw the whole thing through that window. These young Cades apparently got lost during one of their famous midnight expeditions. Ms. Ciampi here observed that old Earl was carrying a shotgun, and since she knew that two people in this very house had been killed with a shotgun, she was naturally on her guard. Now"-Poole lifted the flat of his hand to stall Petrie's objection-"as to the dog: Do you know what kind of dog that is? No, you don't. That is not just some yard mutt you can shoot because you're feeling a little cranky. That is a rare prize animal, Omar. That is a ten -thousand- dollar animal. Well, you shoot a ten-thousand-dollar animal that's just doing what it's told, apprehending prowlers on private property in the hours of the night, in the presence of a sworn officer of the court, which is me, Omar, then I think you're looking at a world of trouble. I'm talking lawsuits, here, big ones. The town ain't going to pay for no ten-thousand-dollar dog, and Sheriff Swett sure ain't, and who does that leave, hm? You want to set down and figure how long it's going to take to make that sum up, plus court costs and punitive damages, out of what you take off those girls down by Amos's out on Route 36? Why, some of those girls'll be grandmas before you paid it off."

Petrie was staring at him, as if at an apparition, Marlene noticed, and Dan and the two Cades were staring likewise. Poole clapped his hands briskly. "Well! Let's see now. This looks to me like a little misunderstanding. Miss Ciampi here's from away, so she might not comprehend our local mores and customs. No harm's done, except to Mr. Cade's neck, and a couple of Band-Aids'll put that right. A little disinfectant, too, if you got it. In fact, I believe, Omar, that the wisest thing you could do right now is to get back in your patrol car and drive away. Given the situation, I don't think Sheriff Swett would appreciate having legal attention being drawn to this particular house and family, if you catch my drift. What I mean is, this could be worse than what happened with Commissioner Jakes. Situation like this, the best thing to do is not to do anything." Turning to the Cades, he added, "Boys, why don't you just wander back where you come from. This business is all over."

At this Bo Cade immediately started off, but his brother rose and stood there like a dead tree. "What about my shotgun?"

Bo ran back and grabbed Earl's arm. "Goddamn it! There wasn't no shotgun, you idiot. Come along!"

But Earl jerked his arm away, roared out a curse, and flung a roundhouse blow at his brother's head, which was ducked. Bo kicked him in the shin. Earl shouted threats of murder and ran at him, Bo took off like a hare, and they both disappeared into the darkness, yelling curses at one another. Officer Petrie holstered his sidearm, adjusted his uniform, and gave everyone a look of malevolent stupidity. Without another word he strode off. They heard his engine start and then the rattle of gravel as he sped away.

Marlene said, "That was extremely impressive, Poole. Thank you. I guess there's still a little cherry vanilla left in the bottom of the carton."

"Thank you," said Poole. "I must be becoming a functional drunk. Or maybe it's that shotgun blasts at night tend to sober me up."

"But… they just walked away," Dan complained. "They snuck in here with guns and they just walked away."

"Yeah, well, I guess we could file a complaint for trespass," said Poole, "but you know Judge Murdoch would dismiss it in two shakes."

The phone rang in the house.

"Who's calling this late?" asked Dan.

"If you go answer it, you'll find out," said Marlene. Dan went into the house.

"We should pick up that shotgun," said Marlene. She used the flashlight to look in the tall grass at the edge of the yard and came back with the gun broken over one arm.

"A Remington twelve, fairly new. Do you think we're looking at the actual murder weapon?"

"Possibly," said Poole. "Although there are any number of murderous Cades and they all own shotguns. And every other kind of gun. I assume that pistol…"

"A.357 Ruger. Lizzie was killed with a.38 slug. I suppose it could've come from a.357. I take it that Officer Petrie will not put two and two together and submit the weapon for ballistic testing."

"You would assume correctly," said Poole. "In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if that gun found its way back to the owner before long." He looked away from her and up at the sky. "I can't stand these lights. It's like a prison yard. There's something shitty about having to put in security lights in a place like this. You can't see the stars."

"Are you a stargazer, Poole?"

"Yes. The sole advantage of getting drunk in rural surroundings is that you get to spend a lot of time lying on your back and watching the galaxies whirl around. You can tell yourself that you're small and meaningless and futile, which gives you an excuse for another snort. Not that you need an excuse."

Marlene went to the back door and snapped off the floods. Dan was on a stool with the phone clutched to his ear; she didn't disturb him but returned to the yard, where she found that Poole had settled himself in an aluminum lounge chair, staring at the heavens. The sky was still overcast, but the cloud cover was scudding, making holes for starshine. Marlene whistled up her dog, who arrived bounding, to be hugged and made much of.

"You should give a nice lick to Mr. Poole, Gog," she cooed. "He saved your bacon, didn't he? Yes, he did! He said you were worth ten thousand dollars. And you are, and more. Go ahead, give him a big kiss."

The dog licked Marlene instead, kissing on demand not being part of his extensive repertoire, and settled heavily under the hammock where his mistress now reclined.

Poole said, "Speaking of which, I expect that this evening's events have pressed home to you exactly what we're up against here with respect to our so-called justice system."

"Old Omar is bent, you mean."

"No, it goes far beyond that. Bent is a useful descriptor only when you have the idea of the straight. But there is no such idea hereabouts. You need to think about a little banana republic set among these misty peaks, except instead of bananas it's coal, and instead of United Fruit, it's the Majestic Coal Company."

"I know that's what you think, but I still can't understand why the state would allow it. Or the feds. I mean, we had that kind of thing in the South, and it got cleaned up twenty years ago, and the same with the bigcity machines and the Mob."

"Yes, but the critical thing there were complaints; people bitched about it, the press was involved. You know the old joke about the kid who didn't talk and his parents took him to all kinds of specialists, and no one could cure him, and one day, the kid is about ten and he pushes his plate away and says, 'I hate spinach.' And his parents get all excited. 'You can talk! You can talk! Why didn't you say anything until now?' and the kid goes, 'Everything was okay until the spinach.' It's like that. The level of expectation is so low, and the level of terror is so high, that there are no complaints. Until Red Heeney, and you saw what happened to him. The first plate of spinach, though. Now you arrive and dragoon me into it, and soon your hubby will come with the full power of the state. It'll be interesting. I may even stay sober occasionally to observe the high jinks."

"You have no great hopes, I take it."

"Oh, I think we'll get the boys who did it, the actual gunmen. As you saw tonight, we're not dealing with criminal masterminds. Probably half the people in the county know who pulled the triggers or know someone who knows. They'll toss them in the pokey, and the next squad of villains will appear ready for action. There's a never-ending supply, like cans in a soda machine. The Cades alone must have a dozen or so fellows like young Earl, shambling horrors with their eyes too close together who like to hurt people. The system, though, our way of life-changing that is another kettle of fish. It's like the transition from a society that's essentially barbaric, and based on fear and force, to a civil society based on laws and rights. It usually takes a century or so, and even then it's fragile, as the recent century has so hideously demonstrated."