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Choices You’re probably wondering something. Yeah, I know what it is. You’re thinking, the obvious thing woulda been to ask Lynn about him. He remembered her, maybe she remembered him. Knew who he was, how to get to him. The reason I didn’t was, A, I kinda figured if she knew anything about him, she woulda told me already. And, B…….it’s sorta cowardly, I guess, but I didn’t wanna hear about it. Not from her. You know? I didn’t wanna hear her talking about one a’ her johns. We’d put that behind us; I didn’t wanna bring it up between us again. A week after I confiscated the bottle of bourbon from Lois’s house, I’d come up empty, and I started thinking about it again. No outstanding warrants in Arizona for anybody with his MO; no fingerprints on file that matched the ones on the bottle. The sheriff in Phoenix sent ‘em on to Sacramento, but that was a long shot, and he and I both knew it. He asked me why I was going to so much trouble if a crime hadn’t been committed….and I told him, there will be. Lynn was on the phone when I got home that night. She turned her back to me, like you do when you don’t want anybody else to hear your conversation. So I didn’t listen, I went to get the newspaper from the porch, but I couldn’t avoid hearing the end of the call. She told “Wanda” to let her know what she found out. “What’s up?” I asked. “Nothing important,” she said, and walked away. Uh-huh. I followed her into the kitchen. “Lynn.” “What?” “You gonna start lying to me now?” Her hand tightened on the handle of the teakettle she was setting on the burner. White knuckles. “What makes you think I’m lying?” “Tell me you’re not.” “Can’t I make a simple phone call without getting the third degree? Do I have to clear everything with you before I do it?” I waited a minute before I answered her. She didn’t look at me. “You can do whatever you want. Do it. I’ll stay out of it. You just do whatever the fuck you wanna do.” I pulled the back door open. “You don’t have to lie to me about it.” And I went through. I was sitting in my pickup when she came out on the porch. “Where are you going?” she asked. “Do I have to clear everything with you before I do it?” I turned the key, the starter stuttered, the engine coughed, and then caught. “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!” The door banged against the side of the house when Becky flew through it, and ran to the pickup. I reengaged the brake, and took my foot off the accelerator. “Come see what R builded for my dolly! Come look! Come in and see it! Daddy, get out!” “Bud,” Lynn said. “Don’t go. Let me…..let me get around to it in my own time, would you?” I turned the key off, the engine died. “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!” “Stand back from the door, sweetheart, so Daddy can open it.” As soon as I had both feet on the gravel, Becky jumped at me. I lifted her up, she grabbed my shirt collar, and tugged toward the house. “Come and see it! Now! Daddy, come in!” When I passed Lynn on the porch, I said, “No lies, baby.” She didn’t look happy. I went upstairs and admired the doll bed Charles hammered together out of scraps for Becky, while she tucked one of her dolls in it and covered her up. “That’s swell, pardner. You figure that out by yourself?” He was good with a hammer and saw. Looked like he built it up there in his room; Lynn wouldn’t be happy about the sawdust and the nail holes in the floor. He grinned. “I’m gonna make her a table next.” “For tea parties, huh? She’ll like that. She might drag you in on one, though. You like tea?” He laughed. I ruffled his hair. “Becky’s lucky to have you for a brother.” He stopped laughing. Got serious. “I like Becky.” “That’s good.” “Some of the guys at school don’t like their sisters, but I do. I’m glad she was here already when I came. I mean, I like it that she’s little, but she’s old enough to be sorta fun. I mean--“ Trying to say something he wasn’t sure how to say. “I got ya. We’re pretty happy about the way things worked out, too.” Supper was quiet; or as quiet as supper gets when Becky’s at the table. When she ran out of news about her day to tell us, she sang. Bites of hot dog between the choruses. Don’t ask me what the song was. I could only understand her songs about half the time, and I think she made the tunes up herself on the spur of the moment. You ever have that feeling, the one where you wish you could make everything stay just the way it was right then--just the same forever? I coulda been happy forever, sitting there at the table, listening to my four-year-old daughter singing and laughing. I coulda. After we went to bed, Lynn started the conversation in the middle. “It’s my problem,” she said. It was ok, I was already following her. “It kinda feels like my problem, too.” I didn’t mention my half of the thousand dollars. “No,” she said, and turned over, thumping her pillow. “I don’t want you to do anything. It’s my problem, I’ll handle it.” I didn’t say anything. “Promise me.” She rolled over and looked at me. “I don’t want you to try to fix it for me. I’ll take care of it myself.” I promised. Whether it was because I’m just soft in the head, or because of the way she looked with the bedside lamp throwing soft shadows on her face, I don’t know, but I told her I’d stay out of it. Which mighta been a mistake. And I mighta made another mistake. When another $500 disappeared outta the account a coupla weeks later, I didn’t ask her about it. I went to the bank, withdrew all the extra money that was left from the account, and put it somewhere else. It was safe....but Lynn didn't know where it was. I guess I thought if she couldn’t pay him anymore, she’d have to ask me to help her out. Genius, huh? Yeah. He disappeared again, long enough for some of us to think maybe he was gone for good. About a month. Felt like the whole town breathed easier. For a while. I found out he was back from the boys at the hardware store. Buying ammunition. Thought I’d get in some target shooting out at Petersen’s ranch. At the counter, while Sam was ringing it up, Ben said, “That fella was in here yesterday.” “What fella?” “You know---that fella. He came in but he didn’t buy anything. Started in talking about Roberta.” Dammit. “Yeah? What’d he say?” “Came in and started yapping away, like he lives here or something. Either got a lotta balls, or just stupid.” Dewey piped up. “The thing that really steams me is, it was like he thought he was telling us something we don’t already know. Moron.” The other two nodded their heads. “Yeah,” Ben said. “Does he think we don’t know what goes on in our own town?” “Oughta know better,” I said. “Yeah.” Dewey snickered. “Jones here told him to stick it up his ass.” Jones looked down at his shoes. Humble. “Course, that was after the sonuvabitch started in on Ar--uh!” The grunt was because Ben jammed his elbow in Dewey’s ribs. Smiled. “You’re gonna have to go on and tell me now,” I said. “Well……” Dewey rubbed his side. “All he really said before Jones put in his two cents---“ “That’s just gossip,” Ben said. “You don’t want us to repeat gossip.” “Sure I do.” “Well, we don’t do that. Never. Against it.” “Uh-huh. What was he saying about Arbutus?” “Bud.” Jones finally spoke up. “It ain’t nothing……it was a long time ago, and it wasn’t really anything much then…..but I don’t think Arbutus’d appreciate us bandying it about. Even to you. Especially to you. And the bum won’t be saying anything to anybody else. I think he came in here wanting to see what kinda reaction he’d get, and now he knows nobody wants to hear about it. So I wouldn’t worry.” I wasn’t worried. I was mad as hell. And fucking tired of standing around, letting the bastard say and do whatever he wanted, getting away with it. He was dirty. I knew it. What the hell was the point of being a cop---even in Bisbee---if you couldn’t take care a’ the garbage? “Bud.” Jones grabbed my arm. “Don’t go looking for him mad. Don’t, for God’s sake, go asking him about Arbutus. If she finds out……she wouldn’t want you to hear about it. Believe me.” I shook him off. He grabbed my arm again. “Let it go.” I took a deep breath and thought about it. “For now. Let it go, for now.” OK. OK. “For now.” He nodded. “OK.” Saw “Bill” driving a different car a couple days later. Not Lois’s. The license plates were Texas, and came back clean, belonged to a Susan Trevelyn. I was hoping for stolen, but no such luck. I called the county sheriff there, and got her phone number. Called her. She said it was ok, she’d given him the car to drive. “Why?” “It was worth it to get him to go away.” I understood that. He waved. I thought about pulling him over. I remember thinking, just give me an excuse……but he drove slowly and carefully down the street and turned the corner. Albert and Dwight and Dewey spelled me watching him after that. If he went to the grocery store, I knew what was in his bags before he got home with them. Herbert shook his head and told me he thought it was a waste of time and money, but he didn’t tell me to stop. “Bill” stayed away from Lois’s, the car he was driving was usually parked down across the tracks at a shabby boarding house that Dewey said used to be a saloon and whorehouse years ago. Whenever I drove by Lois’s house, her car was parked outside. The scuttlebutt was that she quit her job down at Armbruster’s five-and-dime, told her boss she was gonna be leaving. But she didn’t leave. Nothing happened. He was careful. Waved a lot. I couldn’t help wondering which one of us was gonna slip up first. Which one of us would get tired of the situation and do something about it. Began to think it wasn’t gonna be him. Seemed like we tailed him a long time, watching him pick up his laundry, buy his groceries, get some Chinese once in a while, wander down to one of Bisbee’s few bars once in a while; I even tailed him to the station. On a Thursday, I think it was. Couldn’t help wondering what he thought he was doing. He wasn’t looking for me, he knew I was following him, ‘cause I didn’t bother to try to hide it. He didn’t stay too long. Dwight took over for me when he left, and I went inside. Betty didn’t look up from her typewriter. Wouldn’t. Kept right on typing, like her job depended on it. Somehow, I would never a’ thought Herbert had any secrets everybody else didn’t already know….but I knew as soon as I saw him “Bill” hadn’t been paying him a social call. He looked older than I’d ever seen him look. White as death; weary and weak. When I stopped in his doorway, he reached over and shut the rock polisher off; it slowed and stopped. Water dripped off the piece of white marble that wasn’t round yet; it glistened in the sunlight that came through the window, even through the grit. I thought for sure this was gonna be the thing that gave the bastard to me. How stupid is it to try to blackmail the chief of police? But he was smarter than me. “I’ll go pick him up right now,” I said. “We’ll nail him to the wall. Let’s see him try to weasel outta this.” Herbert shook his head. “You don’t understand,” he said. “It’s not just me.” I understood. I didn’t have to hear any more, I got it, but good. And I shoulda taken care of it anyway, no matter what anybody else thought, or said. I shoulda run him outta town. I shoulda made Herbert press charges. Or Lynn. Shoulda made somebody press charges; extortion carries a pretty hefty sentence. I shoulda done something. Like I said, sometimes I’m just fucking stupid.
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