David Wroblewski - The Story of Edgar Sawtelle

Glen had arranged three folding chairs in front of his desk, and he motioned for Trudy and Edgar to sit down, then settled himself. Almondine approached and sniffed his knee and boot. “Hey, girl,” he said, then, “Aha,” as Annie walked in carrying three paper cups. With his forearm he cleared a swath on the desk. A stack of papers plunged off the other side.

He grinned, wryly. “My New Year’s resolution. Every year.”

“This one here’s hot chocolate,” Annie said. She set the cups in the cleared space and piled the fallen papers on the desk with an expression of despair.

“They’re here if you want ’em,” Glen said, gesturing at the steaming cups. He made a production of opening his notebook and clicking the end of his pencil. “Okay,” he said. “What we’ve got to do here is record what happened. That’s just procedure. We want to do this fast before anyone forgets anything. I apologize about this. I know it won’t be pleasant. The fact is, Pop came in this morning and gave me hell.” He paused as if suddenly embarrassed, Edgar thought, to have referred to his father as “Pop.”

“It’s okay, Glen,” Trudy said. “Just ask whatever you need to. Edgar will sign his answer to me.”

“Okay then. Trudy, when did you go into town?”

“It was eleven thirty or so when I left.”

Glen scribbled in his notebook. “And Edgar, you were home all day?”

He nodded.

“When did you first think something was wrong?”

Edgar signed his answer. “He was working in the mow and he noticed the dogs barking,” his mother said. “When he came downstairs, Gar was…lying on the floor.”

“You were in the mow?”

“We train up there when it gets cold,” Trudy said impatiently, before Edgar could reply. “You know that. You’ve been up there yourself.”

“Yeah, I have. I’m just asking to be complete. You were up there with some dogs?”

Yes. Two dogs from my litter.

“The dogs that were barking were downstairs?”

Yes.

“How long had you been in the mow?”

An hour. Maybe longer.

“You wear a watch?”

I have a pocket watch. I didn’t have it with me.

“Is there a clock in the mow?”

Yes.

“Do you remember about what time this happened?”

“You must know that from the telephone operator,” Trudy said.

“Yes. There’s a record of that. But I think it would be good to get it all down as long as we’re doing this.”

I wasn’t paying attention. It was after one o’clock, I know that.

“What sorts of things were you doing with your dogs?”

Come-fors. Proofing stays. Stay-aways. I had a hurdle set up.

“Do those things make a lot of noise?”

Not really.

“I mean, would your father have heard you upstairs?”

He would have heard the dogs running. And my footsteps.

“Could you have heard him downstairs?”

What do you mean?

“If he yelled something, would you have heard him?”

“He would have heard a shout,” Trudy said, interceding again. “We call up there all the time. With the door closed, you have to try a few times. Otherwise it’s easy to hear someone.”

Glen looked at Edgar. “And the door was closed?”

Yes.

“How about something spoken in an ordinary voice?”

“Not with the door closed,” Trudy said. “With the door open, you can hear someone talking in the workshop.”

“But you didn’t hear a shout or anything? Just the dogs?”

Edgar paused. He shook his head.

Glen made a note and turned the page over. “Okay, now I’m going to ask you a hard question, but it’s important you tell me as much as you can remember. You were working up in the mow with some dogs. You heard barking, you opened the door, you came downstairs. What did you see?”

Edgar thought about it for a moment.

I don’t remember, he signed.

His mother looked at him. You don’t remember?

No.

But you told me about it last night.

I mean, I know when I came downstairs I saw him lying there, but I don’t remember it. I just know he was lying there. It’s like I know it because someone else told me about it, not because I can see it.

She turned to the sheriff. “Glen, he doesn’t remember it much. Just that Gar was on the floor.”

“Well, that’s okay. Sometimes that happens. What’s the first thing you do remember?”

Running to the house.

“Is that when you called the operator?”

Yes.

“But that didn’t work.”

No.

“Then what?”

I ran back to the barn. No, wait. I ran up to the road. I thought I might see someone driving by who could talk on the phone. But there was nobody.

His mother repeated this. “That was after you went into the house?”

I think so. “You don’t remember for sure?”

No. But I think I went back into the house. “How did the phone get broken?”

He paused again. I don’t remember. “Pop says it was hanging in pieces when he got there.” Yes. I think I broke it, but I don’t know when.

“Okay, okay. You had them on the line and couldn’t say what was wrong. Trudy, did you ever discuss with Edgar a plan for how he might call for help if he needed to?”

“No, not really. The assumption was that Gar or I would always be there. The main thing we worried about was Edgar getting hurt when he was in the field or the woods. But he always had Almondine with him, and she’s been watching him since he was born. So…no.” Her eyes started to glisten, and she looked down. “We thought through so many possibilities. As soon as we could, we taught him how to write his name, address, and telephone number in case he got lost. We were always worried about…always thinking, ‘what if ’…”

She tipped her face down and closed her eyes. Glen produced a box of tissues and she crumpled one in her hand and drew in a breath.

“We worried about Edgar getting separated from us. Especially when he was little. But it never happened. And he was so smart. We’re talking about a kid that started reading at three years old. The last couple of years, it just wasn’t a concern. He knows how to handle himself with people who can’t sign-no, more than just handle himself: half his class knows how to read his sign. All his life he’s been teaching people. He’s good at it. Good at it. And besides, if there was ever any problem, he could just write out what he wanted to say. Nothing like this ever entered our minds.”

She stopped and wrapped her arms around her sides. Watching her do it-collect herself that way-made Edgar shudder. He could almost see her reaching inside herself to steady something, catch some falling piece of crockery. Almondine stood and poked her nose against Trudy’s hand, and she stroked the dog’s back.

“I’m sorry,” Glen said. He looked abashed. “I didn’t mean to imply you did something wrong. All I’m trying to do is get down what happened as Edgar saw it. We’re going to be done here in a couple of minutes, and then we’re done for good, I promise. Believe me, I wish we didn’t have to talk about this, but I don’t have a choice. Edgar, how you doing?”

Edgar nodded.

Glen sat back and clapped his palms on his broad knees.

“All right, let me ask you both a question: had Gar mentioned anything that might indicate he was sick? A headache? Feeling tired? Anything unusual?”

“No, nothing,” his mother said, and Edgar nodded in agreement. “I thought a lot about that last night. If he wasn’t feeling well, he didn’t say anything.”

“Would he have?”

“Maybe not. He hated going to the doctor. He says”-she paused a second and corrected herself-“said, I mean, they never fix things. They only make you feel worse.”