David Liss - The Ethical Assassin

“What were you doing here?”

I told her the same story I’d told Doe, about looking for shade and then just wandering around in the absence of NO TRESPASSING signs. It found a more sympathetic audience with her, perhaps because of the blood.

“You resist the man in any way?” She gestured toward Doe with her head.

“No, ma’am. I explained myself like I did with you.”

“Turn around,” she told me.

I did.

“Jesus fuck,” she whispered. “Take those off of him now.”

“I got a right to handcuff a perp.”

“Doe, I’m going to count to three, and if those cuffs aren’t off, then you’re going to be the perp here.”

He grumbled but took out his keys and unlocked the cuffs, getting in a few rough jerks while he fumbled to fit the key in the lock.

“What a bullshit move, putting them on too tight. What, did you knock his head against the door when you put him in the car, too?”

It had been a rhetorical question, but I answered for Doe. “Yes, ma’am, he did. Punched me in the stomach, too.”

“This fucker is lying,” Doe said as the cuffs came off.

I felt a rush of pain as the blood began to flow. It stung horribly, and I winced as my eyes watered, but I was determined to show nothing more than the wincing. I kept my hands behind my back, not wanting to see them until the pain dissipated.

“It sure doesn’t look that way, Jim. I’m going to have to bring you up on charges.”

But she didn’t move. She didn’t go to cuff him. Instead, she smiled thinly and stared at him, waiting to see how he planned to take it.

“Is this because I wouldn’t fuck you?” he asked. “Is that what this is about? It’s just that I don’t like women without titties.”

“Unless you have something useful to say that would make me view this matter in a better light, I’m going to have to take you over to the station.”

I didn’t know I was going to say it until it came out. “I don’t want to press charges.”

The cop turned to me so fast, I was surprised her hat stayed on her head. “Why in hell not?”

I shrugged. “I don’t want any trouble. I don’t live near here, and I wouldn’t be able to come back for the trial or anything. And I guess I was trespassing, even if he got a little mean about it. I’d just as soon forget the whole thing.”

Doe grinned at me as though we were co-conspirators. Or something else. As though he hadn’t been appeased, and this effort to get on his good side would only hurt me in the end.

Still, it was the right move. Best to let the whole thing disappear. Get the cops and the courts and maybe the media involved, I might end up in jail. Way things were now, it might just turn out okay. It was a long shot, but it was something to hope for.

“You sure about that?” she asked.

I nodded.

She turned to Doe. “This is your lucky day. Why don’t you get on out of here.”

“Why don’t I get on out of here?” he asked, scratching his head. “Let me think about that one. How about this? Because it’s my fucking land. How about you get out of here?”

“Do us both a favor and take a hike. And let me be clear about something. If anything happens to this boy, Jim, anything at all, I’m coming after you, so I suggest you be careful.”

“I ain’t never seen a woman with such small titties,” he answered, and then got into his car. The engine came on with an angry growl, and the car pulled out at about fifty miles an hour.

The county cop watched it go. “I ought to give him a speeding ticket,” she said. “See how he likes it.” The she looked over at me. “So, what were you doing here?”

“Just like I said,” I told her. “I was wandering. I sort of plan to quit selling encyclopedias when I get home, and I didn’t have the energy to work today. So I was walking along, and I came here.”

“Come on, there must be more to it than that. You smoking pot or something? I don’t care. I just want to know.”

I shook my head. “Nothing like that. I was walking is all.”

She shook her head. “Fine. Let me give you a ride.”

I thought about the offer for a minute. Melford was back there somewhere, but what had he done for me but hang me out to dry? Either he hadn’t seen what was going on, which showed he couldn’t be trusted to watch my back, or he had and decided not to help me. Either way, I figured I ought to have no problem washing my hands of him.

For want of anyplace else to go to, I asked her to give me a ride to the motel, then I climbed into her car, fully aware that sitting in a cop car, front seat or back, was just about the last place I wanted to be. As we pulled out along the pine-lined road, and I caught a glimpse of Jim Doe’s car hidden behind a few trees, I knew taking the ride had been the smart move.

The cop, Officer Toms according to her badge, decided the silent treatment was the best way to go. She handed me a tissue for my nose, which had already stopped bleeding, but I dabbed at it anyhow because it seemed the polite thing to do. Finally, without turning to look at me- though she might have given me a sidelong glance behind her mirrored sunglasses- she said, “You’re in some kind of trouble, aren’t you.”

“Not anymore.”

“Yeah, you are.”

“What makes you think that?” I tried to keep my voice steady.

“Because you were the victim of an asshole cop’s brutality, and now you’re happy to forget it ever happened. In my experience, only people who are afraid of the law are content to look the other way when a cop steps over the line.”

I shrugged, and then the lies started flowing. I’d never been a saintly paragon of truth, but I wasn’t a habitual liar, either. Still, it was getting to be pretty easy. “I’m scared of the guy. I’d rather he forgot I exist. I’ve got nothing to gain by trying to beat him in some legal contest. All I wanted was to get away from him, which I did thanks to you.”

“What’s he up to, anyhow?”

She had a distant tone in her voice. I knew she wasn’t talking to me, so I didn’t have to tell her that he was up to hiding dead bodies and searching for a whole bunch of money.

“We’ve been trying to get a search warrant on that lot for months,” she told me, “but I think he’s got connections at the courthouse. The judges keep telling us there’s no probable cause. But I sure as hell don’t think he’s doing nothing more than raising hogs.”

I was about to say something nondescript, like “I wouldn’t know about that,” but I thought better of it. Instead I opted for a Melfordian strategy. “Well, what do you think he’s up to?”

She turned her head, but her eyes were invisible behind the glasses, so her face was illegible to me. “Why do you want to know?”

“I’m just making conversation with the nice police officer who rescued me.”

“Good for you,” she said.

“Good for me what?”

“Police ‘officer.’ Mostly I get police ‘woman,’ like I’m Angie Dickinson or something.”

“True equality can only be achieved through gender-sensitive language,” I told her.

She glanced at me again. “Right you are.”

I’d never seen a car drive away skeptically before, but that’s how Officer Toms did it. One last dubious glance, and she eased her cruiser away. And there I was, back at the motel. It was a few minutes before two now, and I didn’t know what to do with myself.

Then a remarkable idea occurred to me. I could sleep. I could go back to my room, sleep for hours, and then wake up in time to hoof it over to the Kwick Stop and claim to have blanked. I could make the tedium of the day disappear, get some sleep, and remain hidden from rednecks, crooked cops, and compassionate assassins. Opportunities like that didn’t come along every day.