Dave Zeltserman: Small crimes

He went over to the desk in the kitchen and fumbled around in the top drawer until he came up with a set of keys. I asked him if he could give me a key to the house also.

'You don't need one,' he said. 'You know we never lock the doors. Joey, it's not that we don't want you staying with us, but this is only temporary, right?'

'Sure, only until I find a job and get myself set up. Thanks for taking care of my car and thanks for letting me stay here.'

The coffee had finished brewing, and he poured me a cup. As he handed it to me he looked like he wanted to ask me something. He hesitated for a long while, his mouth forming a small round circle. Then he muttered something about feeling tired. He turned from me and started toward his bedroom.

I took the rest of my sandwich and the coffee to the phone. I ate the sandwich slowly. After I was done, I gave Dan Pleasant a call. He wasn't in, but I left a message and sat and waited for him to call back. I only had to wait five minutes before the phone rang. I picked it up and heard Dan's voice.

'You there, Joe?' he asked.

'Hello, Dan.'

I heard a soft laughing noise. 'How you doing, Joe?' he said. 'Christ, it's been a long time.'

'It didn't have to be. I'd been sitting in your jail for seven years. You could've stopped by anytime.'

'I didn't think that would be a smart thing to do. But we do need to talk. Why don't you drive out to the Mills Farm Road out in Chesterville. I'll meet you there in a half-hour.'

'I don't know, Dan, I'd feel more comfortable if we talked somewhere more public. How about Zeke's Tavern?'

There was more soft laughing. 'That wouldn't be very smart, Joe. No, I don't think we want publicity. I also don't think it would be very smart to show your face at Zeke's. I'll meet you out in Chesterville in a half-hour.' There was a click as he hung up.

I walked two doors over to Ron Hardacher's house and got my Mustang convertible out of his garage. I knew Dan would prefer it if I were dead, but I wasn't worried about meeting him on an isolated road in the country. If he thought he could get away with killing me he would've done it years ago.

I put the top down and headed toward Chesterville. As I got about five miles past downtown Bradley, I could see that the strip malls and shopping centers had expanded into what used to be open space. Eventually I got past them and all the traffic lights. The road became quieter and more scenic, with rolling hills and cows grazing lazily along them. It was a warmish fall day and I felt good having the wind in my face. At times I'd open it up to a hundred before slowing the car down. As I drove I felt a sense of peace that I hadn't felt in years. It startled me to realize how long it had been since I'd felt that way.

I turned onto Mills Farm Road and drove down the dirt road until I spotted Dan leaning against his pickup truck. He looked pretty much the same as he did the last time I saw him. A tall, lanky man with a large head and a big mop of brownish hair. His last name, Pleasant, fit him well; he always seemed to have a warm, pleasant smile on his face. I pulled up behind his truck and got out to meet him.

His eyes dulled for a second as he glanced at my Mustang convertible, and then his warm, pleasant smile was back in place. Dan was never happy that I'd bought the car. He always held a tight rein on his deputies, demanding they use the extra money made as a retirement fund. No big-ticket purchases. No fancy cars, no boats, nothing that would bring them any attention. The car was the only thing I'd ever bought. All the other money I made I pissed away. Still, after all these years, I could tell Dan still resented me for buying it.

He took a step to meet me and gave me a warm handshake, then placed a hand on my shoulder. 'It's good to see you, Joe,' he said. And if I didn't know him better I would've sworn he meant it.

'How you're still sheriff I'll never know,' I said.

He laughed. 'I'll keep running as long as they keep voting for me. How long has it been since you've had a beer?'

'I think you know the answer to that.'

'It was a rhetorical question, Joe. But I think I got a good solution.' He opened the door to his truck and took a couple of bottles out of a cooler. He handed me one of them.

'You're looking good, Joe. Morris treat you okay?'

'No complaints.'

'I had to work my ass off to keep you there. Our DA friend fought like hell to have you moved to a maximum-security prison.'

'I know. He told me.'

'He did, did he?' Dan showed a thin smile. 'Did he tell you he was using every favor he had to get you shipped out of state to Danamora? It almost happened, and I'll tell you, you wouldn't have had much fun there, my friend. I had to pull a lot of strings to keep you in Bradley.'

"That was the deal.'

Dan laughed and shook his head. 'I went way beyond our deal for you. It cost me quite a bit of coin to get you that early parole, especially after Coakley's heartfelt victim's statement to the parole board. Shit, he even had me moved to tears. Even with the greasing, I don't think you'd be out now if you hadn't taken responsibility and pled guilty in the first place. That move worked out for you in the long run, Joe.'

'That wasn't why I did it.'

'Yeah, I know. I always figured you didn't want to risk taking the stand. A smart move. God knows what other business our DA friend would have dragged in.'

'That wasn't my reason.'

Dan waited for me to explain, but I wasn't going to. He wouldn't have understood even if I had. It wasn't in his makeup to understand something as simple as that I didn't feel making Phil go through a trial after what I did to him would be right. It's funny, though, it seemed as if Phil resented my pleading guilty. As if I'd robbed him of his day in court. If I had realized that at the time, I would've given him his day and let Grayson argue his bullshit diminished capacity case.

After a while Dan realized I wasn't going to explain any further. He took a long drink of his beer and started laughing. 'Still the same old Joe, huh?' he said, his eyes crinkling pleasantly. 'I got presents for you anyways.'

He took two envelopes from his inside jacket pocket and handed them to me. The first one was stuffed with hundred dollar bills. I counted sixty-five hundred dollars. The second envelope had some forms. As I was reading them Dan explained they were for my pension.

'Just sign and date them and it's all set,' he said.

'You're kidding.'

'No sir. It's all taken care of. For the record you're retiring after twenty years on the force. You'll collect thirty-four sixty a month. Plus full medical and dental.'

'How'd you swing this?'

He gave me a little smile. 'A piece of cake, Joe. And, after all, you did join the force twenty years ago. If somebody forgot to check that you spent the last seven years serving time for arson and attempted murder, hey, what the hell.

'Now, Joe,' Dan went on, his eyes hardening a bit, 'as far as

I'm concerned this makes us even. Me and my boys appreciated your keeping us out of the matter, but you were damned stupid to leave that building with Coakley still alive. It hasn't been the same since.'

'What do you mean?'

Dan finished his beer before answering me, a glint of spite in his eyes. 'There's been more attention on us thanks to you. Times are a lot leaner now, a lot less money to be made. Most weeks I'm just living off my salary. But the real problem is Coakley. You changed him.'

Dan flung his empty bottle into the grass meadow we were standing by and got himself another beer. After he had a healthy swallow of it, he shook his head sadly.

'Our DA friend was always a straight arrow. There was never a chance in the world you could cut him in on a deal, but he was always a decent man, businesslike, and never out to screw anyone. You've turned him into a vengeful sonofabitch. The guy's out for blood, Joe. Anything he can nail you with he will, and I'm afraid he might drag me and my boys down with you. You know Manny's dying of cancer?'