Dave Zeltserman - Small crimes

'Really? Well, let me tell you what happened-'

'I said never mind.' There was some panic in his voice. He picked up a folder and flipped through it before putting it down and forcing a stern, almost laughable look onto his face. 'Now about you missing our meeting-'

'I'm sorry about that, Craig. As I said in the message I left you, I had a job interview. By the way, I didn't get the job.'

I could tell he was relieved that I let the other matter drop. He made a loud sucking noise as he breathed in a lungful of air. 'You have to take this seriously, Joe. If you violate your parole I have to send you back to jail. If I do that you'll serve out your complete sentence. That could be another seventeen years.'

I guess I smiled then. It just seemed to be the least of my worries.

'This isn't funny, Joe. I think maybe the problem is you still think of us as colleagues rather than what we are. We're no longer colleagues. We're not even friends. You're a paroled felon and I'm your parole officer. That's our relationship now. You need to accept that.'

'I'm sorry, Craig. And I do accept how things stand.’ I hope for your sake that's true because you can't be missing our scheduled meetings, understood?’

‘Understood.'

He picked the folder back up and frowned at it. 'You moved out of your parents' house without telling me,' he complained, his voice bordering on whining.

"They threw me out.'

'This is what I'm talking about,' Craig said, his cheeks mottling pink and white as he got excited. 'You knew that you were supposed to stay with your parents until you found a permanent residence, and you knew that I was supposed to be kept informed of any address changes. All you had to do was behave yourself. So what did you do to make your parents throw you out?'

'Someone took a shot at me while I was in their house.'

His expression showed that he didn't understand a word I said. 'What do you mean?' he asked. He had a small idiotic smile on his face, as if I were telling a joke he didn’t get.

'I was in the house with them. Someone from outside took a shot at me through the window. Whoever it was missed me by inches. If that much.'

The meaning of what I was saying started to sink in.

'I didn't hear anything about that,' he said. 'I'm surprised. I gave a full report to the police. I would've thought somebody would've told you.’

‘Nobody told me anything.'

He started to fidget with the folders and pens on his desk. This was more than he had bargained for. Most of his parolees were just ordinary screw-ups. Maybe they served time for drug offenses or borderline petty thefts or an occasional assault and battery because they were shitfaced with alcohol at the time. Usually they were just ordinary folk who were going to toe the line once they got out. He could deal with them. I was different. I brought along troubles that he didn't want to get anywhere near.

'Where are you staying now?' he asked. He realized he was fidgeting, and stopped himself by clasping his hands in front of him. He still couldn't look at me.

'Right now I'm staying in motels. I'd like to permanently move someplace else.'

'What?'

As I looked at him giving his best older bewildered Larry Fine impersonation, I made up my mind about something. Ever since I saw those pictures of my girls I couldn't help thinking that I could move to Albany. I wouldn't force myself into their lives, but I'd be there for them. If I survived this mess, that was what I was going to do.

'I'd like to move to Albany,' I told him. 'That's where my daughters are.'

'I don't know about that-'

'People here are trying to kill me, Craig. If I stay in Bradley, somebody's going to get hurt.'

He looked scared now. This was far more than he ever bargained for, especially the idea that he might have to explain to the parole board why one of his clients ended up being killed under his nose. He cleared his throat and asked what I would do in Albany. I told him that I was planning to go to a trade school and become a plumber.

'I'll see what I can do,' he said.

'The sooner I leave the better. I was hoping to move to Albany by the end of the week.'

'I'll work on it. I'm not making any promises.'

He still couldn't look at me. His eyes were frozen on his clasped hands. As I sat and watched him, he seemed to get more uncomfortable. After a while he was just about squirming in his seat.

Anything else you need from me?' I asked. He started to shake his head, but stopped himself. 'You haven't used cocaine since you've been out?’

‘No.'

'If I had you take a drug test-'

'Nothing would show up. What's going on, Craig? Phil come by and try to convince you I'm doing coke?'

He shook his head, but he was always a lousy poker player.

'Did you hear how Phil jumped me after church? I had eaten some powdered doughnuts and he thought the sugar residue on me was cocaine.'

'I didn't hear anything about that,' Again he was lying.

'If you want me to take a drug test, give me a cup.'

It was my turn to bluff, because I knew the cocaine I ingested Saturday night would show up in a test. He wavered for a moment and then waved away the idea of the test. Again, he wouldn't want to have to deal with the consequences.

'Forget it. Just get out of here. I'll work on relocating you to Albany.'

As I left his office, he sat frozen, still unable to face me.

It was only four in the afternoon. I was beat. Thanks to Dan's boys my face now felt like raw hamburger, and my nose throbbed as if it had a life of its own. I ran my fingers along its outline. It was more swollen than before and felt as if it were pushed out of place. I walked over to the drugstore and bought some aspirin. I avoided the mirrors inside the store. I didn't want to see how bad my face looked.

When I got to my car, I headed off towards Burlington. This time I was careful about being followed. I pulled over several times and used every trick I knew to make sure no one was behind me. I stopped off once to buy some fast food and then found a roadside motel. I made sure to park in the back so my car couldn't be seen from the road.

When I got in my room I closed the shades. I didn't bother with any ice this time. I knew it wouldn't do any good.

After I looked up what I had to in the phonebook, I ate the food I bought, took some more aspirin, and set the alarm clock for five in the morning. Then I settled back and watched TV. At some point after all the late-night talk shows had finished I must've blacked out.

A-police siren blasted in my ear. As I jerked awake, I found myself in freefall. I flung my arms out and grabbed whatever I could for dear life. Slowly, I got my sense of equilibrium back and realized I wasn't falling. It was pitch black, my heart beating a mile a minute, and all I knew was I was flat on my back. Then I remembered. The police siren droning away was only the alarm clock next to me. It all came back then and I remembered my plan, what I was going to do. I lay in bed long enough for the pounding in my chest to slow down. Then I forced myself out of bed. I took a quick shower, dressed in the same clothes I wore the day before, and left the motel.

It wasn't yet five thirty by the time I pulled onto the road. I felt calm as I drove. One way or another it was all going to be over soon. If it worked as I hoped, I'd be heading to Albany by the weekend.

If it didn't, well, if it didn't…

I forced the thought out of my mind. No matter what, after today they'd at least remember me for something other than what I did to Phil.

I got to the TV station by six. I decided that for what I was going to be doing it would be better to have a TV cameraman with me.

When I got to the lobby a security guard stopped me. I gave him my name and told him I wanted the news director. He got on the phone and I sat and waited. I knew they aired an early six thirty news broadcast and someone would be there.