Muriel Gray - Furnace

‘Who might that be, Mr Spiller?’

Josh’s hands, still cupped round the coffee, changed to fists.

‘The woman. The one who pushed the baby under the truck.’

The sheriff cleared his throat. ‘Mr Spiller,’ he hesitated, then said, ‘Can I call you …?’ he fished Josh’s licence from his top pocket and peered at it. ‘Josh? That’s it?’

Josh stared at him as if he were mad.

‘Josh,’ the sheriff continued with renewed confidence. ‘I know how shook up you are, but we need to pull ourselves together here a piece. We already got statements from the witnesses. We just need yours. You know we’ll have to fine you for your log book violation. There’s an eight-hour shut-down goes with that. Guess you know. But since you’ve been out of action damn near that, I reckon once you’ve paid up you’ll be free to go. We know you stopped where you said.’ He hesitated. ‘But ’fore I let you leave I need to know you’re goin’ to be okay. Shock makes you tired. Confused. Whole bunch of stuff. You feel better after your sleep?’

Josh searched the sheriff’s face for irony and oddly found none. He fought back his guilt.

‘What did they say?’

‘Who?’

‘The witnesses.’

John Pace leaned forward and his hand lifted slightly as if he wanted to put it on Josh’s arm. He stopped himself when the look in Josh’s eye warned him that he didn’t want to be touched.

‘No one’s blaming you, son. It was an accident. You weren’t speeding, you weren’t drinking. Just an accident.’

Josh swallowed. He spoke quickly with panic in his voice.

‘A woman pushed the baby under the truck. Deliberately.’

The sheriff was shaking his head.

‘The mother left the brakes off the stroller and the wind caught it. She told us so. Saw the whole thing herself. You think she’d lie about a thing like this?’

It was Josh’s turn to shake his head. Pace looked perplexed.

‘Why you doin’ this to yourself, fella?’

‘I can describe her. In detail. I want it on my statement.’

‘I’m goin’ to say this again. Shock plays tricks on you.’

‘I know what I saw.’

The sheriff sighed deeply and turned to one of the men leaning against the wall behind him.

‘Archie?’

The man opened a notepad, pulled out another chair and joined the two men at the table. John Pace ran a hand over his short sandy hair and sat back in his chair.

‘So?’

Pace gestured at him like a sultan allowing a feast to commence.

Josh took a sip of the bitter coffee in front of him, nervously coughed his throat clear and told them it all again.

He spoke slowly and deliberately, and when once more it came to describing the woman he paused, making sure that the man with the notepad had caught up with his tale. The deputy looked up expectantly, holding his pen like a high-school student paying attention to a dull but insistent lecturer. Josh concentrated on his description of the woman, making it more detailed than when he’d first blurted out his hysterical, ragged tale hours ago, and as he spoke he noticed a change come about the men. The one writing glanced across at John Pace who in turn narrowed his eyes. When Josh had finished Pace sat back in his chair and looked thoughtfully across the table. He nodded to himself for a second or two, then rose slowly to his feet and made for the door. He pointed at Josh as he left the room.

‘Hang on there. Got somethin’ for you.’

Josh blinked at the man’s back then looked quizzically at the two men left in the room. They returned his stare with the dull gazes of small-town policemen and Josh looked elsewhere to avoid those vacant eyes. They waited several minutes until Pace re-entered the room clutching a piece of paper. It had ragged fragments of Scotch tape adhering to three comers, with the fourth corner missing, and looked like it had just been ripped clumsily from a wall.

Pace sat at the table, looked down at his prize for a second, moved Josh’s cup to one side then slid the paper in front of him. Josh looked down and the breath left his body.

It was her.

The photo was monochrome, but she was wearing the same suit. She was in a room that looked like a court or schoolroom, with a large flag propped in the corner behind her, and she was smiling up at Josh with even white teeth. She looked good in the picture, younger than Josh had initially guessed, and her make-up was more gentle and sophisticated. But it was her. The murderer. No doubt.

Below the picture a large caption read, ‘ Vote for Councillor McFarlane. You talk. She listens. ’

Underneath in smaller print the handbill informed Josh that Councillor Nelly McFarlane would be holding a question and answer session at Furnace junior school on May nineteenth.

When Josh looked back up at the sheriff’s face, John Pace was registering a peculiar mixture of triumph and sympathy. But if the man was feeling smug, he concealed it well.

‘This her?’

Josh nodded once, almost imperceptibly. Pace did the same.

‘Like I say, shock’s a crazy thing.’

‘Where was this?’

‘All over town.’

‘You think I saw it somewhere.’

‘I know you did. Hard to miss.’

One of the deputies sniggered and Pace threw him a look.

Josh slumped forward, the core of determined revenge dissolving in him, leaving his body slack and empty with misery. He let his hot head touch the back of his hand. This time, Pace allowed himself to put a hand on Josh’s arm and found that it was not resisted.

‘But I saw her.’

Josh’s words were muffled, spoken into his own skin. Pace replied to the top of his head. ‘You just had the worst day of your life, Josh. But you have to realize it weren’t your fault. The mind makes up all kind of mixed-up shit to help us deal with guilt and grief. Once ran over a neighbour’s dog. Couldn’t sleep for weeks. God alone knows what it must be like to have killed a child. You ain’t goin’ mad, Josh. It happens.’

Josh raised his head and squinted at the man whose big hand was still resting on his arm. ‘You’re wrong. I know I saw her.’

Pace shook his head, and tightened his grip. ‘Then the mother of that poor little baby girl? She gone mad?’

Josh lowered his eyes, aware of how he must seem to these solid, unimaginative men. ‘Maybe.’

Pace withdrew his hand, rubbed his chin roughly and thought for a moment.

He stood up.

‘I’m goin’ to do somethin’ outside police procedure here, Josh. But I reckon it’s goin’ to help things along. You want some air?’

Josh unconsciously rubbed at his arm where Pace’s hand had been.

‘I guess.’

Pace nodded, and opened the door for him. They left the room, re-entered the small, neat office that smelled of new carpet, and walked outside towards the car. The sheriff waved a dismissive hand above his head to the calls from his staff as he left the building.

‘Shit, they’ll live without me for ten minutes,’ he said to no one in particular.

Thank God it was over. They’d made the delivery and everything was in order. Bernard Epstein didn’t like his job any more than his companion did, but as he got back into the car, Harry gave him a long look.

He returned the stare and shifted the driver’s seat back so that he could unzip his overalls.

‘She say anythin’?’

Harry’s tone was accusing.

‘Like what?’

‘I dunno. Like what we do next, I reckon.’

Bernard wriggled out of the top half of his suit and lifted his buttocks to slip the legs off.

‘You know what we do next. Nothin’. That’s what we do.’

Harry looked forward out of the windshield to the gracious sweep of the street. ‘You done it before, ain’t you?’