Mark McGinnis - The Simpleton

“What the hell do they want?” Kyle asked, getting to his feet.

Momma and Cuddy came around the table to peer out the window. They watched as Sheriff Dale Bone climbed out of his four-door Crown Vic while Officer Plumkin Richards, simultaneously, climbed out of his SUV. Both vehicles had large italicized blue letters—POLICE—stenciled across their sides.

Jackie said, “Ugh, I knew plumpy Plumkin back in high school. He was always a bit creepy… always the tough guy. Maybe it’s something to do with his height.” She looked over to Kyle, “Don’t police departments have a height requirement?”

Kyle shrugged. “If they don’t they should.”

“Yeah, I mean, don’t they have a strong image to project?” she added.

Cuddy watched the two policemen come around their vehicles to speak to one another. The voice of a woman dispatcher could be heard, coming from inside both patrol cars.

“Sheriff… third call tonight. Ruby Johnson insists she’s seen a UFO. Wants to know when you can send a car over.”

Plumkin tipped his head sideways and spoke into his shoulder mic: “Gale, we’re on important police business here. Just tell Ruby to cool her jets. Unless little green men are coming through her doors and windows, it might be morning before we can get back to her.”

“Ten Four… I’ll let her know.”

Momma looked at Kyle accusingly. “Why are they here? What’s this about?”

Kyle said, “How the hell should I know? I’ve been here since I got out of bed this morning. You know… I’m not always up to no good…”

Three heavy knocks pounded on the door.

“Stay right there. Let me deal with this,” Momma said, taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders—exchanging her irritated expression for one of innocent bewilderment. She then walked out of the kitchen.

Cuddy heard the screen door open and Momma say, “Sheriff? Plumkin? What brings you two out this time of night?”

“Ma’am… sorry for the late hour. I need to ask, is your son here?”

“Cuddy? Of course he’s here. Been here all day.”

“No, I mean Kyle, ma’am.”

“Well, he’s here too. But I don’t understand what you’d want him…”

“Mrs. Perkins, I’m sorry, but we’re here to take Kyle in for questioning. Into custody. Please call him to come on out, we’re not looking for trouble. This can go as easy as he makes it.”

“Not until you tell me what’s going on, Dale,” Momma demanded.

“Another car’s been stolen,” the sheriff said.

“…A sixty-five Mustang. Same make and model Kyle snitched from Dr. Howard over a year ago. That’s a pretty big coincidence, don’t you think?” Plumkin asked.

“I don’t know anything about cars. Why don’t you come inside? I’m sure there’s a simple explanation.”

“Sure… for a minute, Mrs. Perkins, but we’re taking Kyle into custody. Please go get him. We really don’t want any trouble,” the sheriff said.

Still seated at the table, Cuddy and Kyle exchanged a questioning glance. Jackie said, “I’ve got an idea!”

Both looked at her, somewhat startled. Kyle shook his head. “What are you going to do?” he whispered, with a sideways expression, attempting to look menacing.

Jackie hurried over to the sink, wetting down her hair under the faucet. She pointed to Kyle and mouthed the words: “ Hurry… get your hair wet . You too, Cuddy, and maybe button up your shirt.”

Hair wet, Cuddy came around the corner into the foyer, wearing his most engaging smile, and enthusiastically waved at both the sheriff and Officer Plumkin. The sheriff, as tall as Cuddy, though fifty pounds heavier and forty years older, did a poor job hiding his annoyance.

“Kyle and I went to Hollow Pond today, Sheriff,” Cuddy said. “Taught me how to do the dog paddle. Ya know, like a dog does when it swims. Have you ever been to Hollow Pond, Sheriff? Do you like to swim? Have you swung on the rope with the stick tied on the end?”

The sheriff held up his palms. “Cuddy… we’re here on police business. Maybe best if you go to your room for a while. We’re here for your brother Kyle.”

Kyle chose that moment to come around the corner, with Jackie right behind him. Both heads of hair were dripping wet, though she was drying hers with a towel.

“Oh… hi there, Sheriff and hi, Plumkin,” Jackie said, giving an easy smile. Her wet shirt revealed the outline of her breasts and two erect nipples. Innocently, she raised her brow, “What’s all the hubbub about?”

The sheriff averted his eyes while Officer Plumkin stared unabashedly at her chest. It seemed the sheriff, finally, was getting it: Pointing his finger at Kyle like a pistol—his thumb straight up and his forefinger extended—he asked, “What? You’re telling me you were all together this afternoon?”

Cuddy, portraying only simplest innocence, watched Kyle and Jackie give Oscar-worthy performances. Momma, who Cuddy couldn’t remember ever being anything but totally honest, simply stared at the Sheriff—not taking a stand either way. By the way he tilted his head and pursed his lips, Cuddy could tell Officer Plumkin wasn’t buying it.

Plumkin pulled a set of handcuffs from the back of his utility belt and said, “Look, we have zero doubt you had something to do with this, Kyle. You’ve been spotted out and about joyriding in the missing car. Add to the fact, the last time a car got stolen around here was when you nabbed it. Today, another car, the exact same make and model…”

Momma jumped right in and said, “I don’t care what kind of car was stolen, Kyle had nothing to do with it. What in God’s name do you have against my family?” she asked indignantly. “First my youngest son is accused of something and now my eldest. Sheriff… Dale… My family, seems clear to me, is being harassed by your department. I’m telling you, you’re barking up the wrong tree. And let me tell you this… we live in a real small town where everyone knows everyone else. We stick together, Dale, and if I’m not mistaken, the Canyon County Sheriff is an elected position. Isn’t that right?”

Deflated some, the sheriff then steadied his gaze on Jackie. “Miss, you willing to make an official statement down at the station that Kyle was with you today, between the hours of 1:00 p.m. and 3:00 p.m.?”

“Sure. Can I do that tomorrow?”

“That’ll be fine,” the sheriff said.

“Sheriff… I think they’re lying. This is a cock-and-bull story if ever I heard one. We should take Kyle into—”

The sheriff turned on Plumkin. “You see this star here, Officer?” pointing to the tin badge on his chest.

Plumkin reluctantly nodded.

“Then put a sock in it and go get the dog. We’ve taken up enough of this family’s time.”

“Dog?” Cuddy asked. Coming from outside, he heard Rufus’s familiar bark.

The good news for Tow was that he hadn’t gotten much worse. Physically, he was at least managing the disease, though emotionally his life was a different story. He had lapsed into a funk—an emotional, constricting struggle that continued to weigh heavily on his shoulders. As a Pashier , he was a pacifist. It was the way of his people. It was why no weapons would be found on the Evermore . Evolution of the Pashier race, over countless generations, had taught them violence only begot violence. He silently cursed himself for manipulating the young human. Tow reflected back several days to his wellness chamber session with Cuddy. In a sense, that too was a violent act; a conscious decision to alter the course of another being’s life. What right did he have to do that? No one individual—no race of people—withstands the ravages of time indefinitely. In the end… there must be an end. Tow thought about the many thousands of individual essences constrained within the heritage pod below deck. What would they think of him now for his actions? He briefly wondered if that single act of selfishness was done more for his own gain, or for theirs. Did it even matter?