Red Page 5

  ‘Listen,’ he said, ‘I’d be willing to forgive your boy if he shows the nerve and the decency to own up to his part in it and tell the sheriff what happened, what Danny McCormack did. You’re right. It wasn’t your son who fired the weapon. And I know that a boy can be hard in his heart sometimes and then regret it later on. I only want the truth from him. You talk to him for me. Tell him to do what’s right. That’s all I’m asking.’

  He took a pen and pad out of his shirt pocket and wrote down his home phone number and his number at the store, then tore out the page and held it out to them and, when the man opened the screen door to take it, he opened it just a crack as though he were worried about a swarm of hornets getting in there.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘I’d appreciate hearing from you soon as you can talk to him.’

  As he got into the truck he heard shouting inside but couldn’t make out what they were saying. There were three voices though, and the third was Pete’s, high and whiny. He wondered if they’d be able to shout some sense into him.

  Clouds were rolling in from the north off Sabago Lake as he drove to town. There was a coppery electric taste in his mouth that told him they were in for a summer storm. By the time he pulled up to the courthouse the first few drops of rain were falling big as dimes across his windshield. He rolled up the driver-side window and stepped outside into the still dark air.

  He found Tom Bridgewater seated at his desk in the sheriff’s office eating a cruller from Arnie Grohn’s restaurant down the street and reading and drinking coffee. The book in front of him was La Bête Humaine by Emile Zola and Tom looked to be about three-quarters through it.

  ‘Slow day, Tom?’

  Tom smiled and put the book down on a stack of papers. His left central incisor was capped with gold and hung lower in his mouth than the right incisor, which was not capped. The gold tooth gave him the look of a hick. But Tom wasn’t a hick. He had a degree in criminology from some university down south and had read through most of Moody Point Public Library. He raised honeybees and probably knew more about them than anybody in the state. Ludlow thought this was normal. That, again, people were rarely what they appeared to be. Tom was just lazy, both about getting ahead in his profession and about getting the tooth capped properly.

  ‘Nah,’ Tom said. ‘Paperwork up the butt. You hear about this woman yesterday? She’s at a service station over on 91, paying for gas, sees a guy outside trying to steal her car. See, she’s left the keys in there. She’s also left her six-year-old kid, her daughter, asleep in the back seat. So the guy pulls out of the service station. But by then the woman’s got the driver’s-side door open, wraps one arm around the steering wheel, tries to scratch him, pound him, with the other. The guy’s trying to shove her out. She reaches under the front seat and pulls out the Club. You know, the steering-wheel lock? And she’s pounding him with that. The guy’s got her halfway in, halfway out of the car. Anyway, he drags her a quarter of a mile and plows them into a Roy Rogers restaurant. She pulls the guy out of the car and takes the Club and bashes him in the head, then she breaks both the guy’s legs! The guy’s begging for mercy. Ever hear such a thing? We got him on robbery and abduction. He didn’t even know the kid was in there.’

  He held up the book. ‘But this Zola’s terrific,’ he said. ‘You ever read him?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You should. This one’s about a guy sees a murder through the window of a passing train. He’s always wanted to kill somebody but he hasn’t got the guts, so he attaches himself to these two people who actually did it, like some sort of leech. Drives them nuts. You never read Nana, either?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You should try him sometime, Av. I wish I could get the boys to read, or even Evelyn for that matter. All Evelyn reads is the damn newspaper. And the kids are worse than that. I’m lucky if they look at a TV Guide. Sorry about your dog. You got that shell casing for me?’

  Ludlow handed it over.

  Tom looked at the casing and sniffed it, pocketed it and finished the last bite of cruller, picked up his styrofoam coffee cup and got up from his chair.

  ‘Let’s go see Phil Jackman.’

  Sam Berry had mentioned the assistant D.A.’s name over the phone but Ludlow had never met the man. They walked down the hall to his office and a pretty brunette receptionist announced them and Tom opened the frosted glass door and they went inside.

  The office was cluttered with books and papers. Worse than Tom’s was if that was possible.

  Jackman sat behind his desk in his shirtsleeves, the perfect Windsor knot of his tie pulled low. He looked up from a typed sheet of paper, first out the windows where thunder rolled and then at Tom and Ludlow. He stood, much taller than he looked sitting down. He extended his hand.

  ‘Mr Ludlow?’

  His wrist below the shirtsleeve was thin like all the rest of him but the grip was firm.

  ‘Av,’ Ludlow said.

  He handed Ludlow the paper off his desk.

  ‘Tom’s prepared a statement for you, a complaint against the McCormack boy. I’d like you to look it over and see if it’s accurate or if we’ve missed anything. If you have anything to add, let us know.’

  ‘This mean you’re going ahead?’

  ‘It means the office is considering charges.’

  ‘Considering.’

  ‘I have to consult the District Attorney. It’s his decision.’

  ‘But you, Mr Jackman, what would you like to do?’

  ‘I don’t know. So far it’s your word against theirs. Then again, they’re three kids and you’re a respected businessman. Did you bring the casing?’

  ‘I’ve got it right here,’ Tom said.

  ‘Good.’

  Ludlow read the document. Tom had done a good job with it. It was dry and clinical but it was all there and he’d written it better than Ludlow could have managed to do. He guessed all that reading was worth something.

  ‘Looks fine to me.’

  Jackman handed him a pen. He leaned over to the desk and signed where it said complainant and as he stood felt something pinch in his lower back. It was the same familiar pull at his nerve-ends that he’d felt every now and then ever since the war. It ran straight down his leg. Some muscular conspiracy inside him that didn’t want him standing upright again. He winced and straightened and forced the issue.

  Tom Bridgewater noticed.

  ‘You okay, Av?’

  ‘Just my back. Gets cranky on me sometimes.’

  He turned to Jackman. ‘So what happens now?’

  ‘I’ll be talking to D.A. Phelps this afternoon. Soon as we’ve discussed it, we’ll get back to you. Meanwhile, no further visits to the McCormack’s. And no contact with the Daoust boy, either.’

  ‘I already contacted him.’

  ‘You what?’

  ‘Not the boy, actually. I talked to the mother and father just before I came here. I had the feeling they might be willing to help us. I don’t know.’

  Jackman wasn’t a man good at concealing his annoyance. The bright red splotches in his cheeks gave him away. He probably wasn’t much of a poker-player either.

  ‘That wasn’t very smart, Mr Ludlow. They could sue for slander. I wouldn’t do it again if I were you.’

  ‘I don’t intend to. I just wanted them to see that there’s a person involved here, somebody real and not just some fellow by the name of Ludlow. If they call I’ll pass them right on to you. That’s assuming you decide to go ahead. If not . . .’

  ‘If not what?’

  ‘If not then I don’t know what I do. If you’ve got any ideas I’d like to hear them.’

  Jackman’s handshake was more tentative this time.

  Ludlow walked Tom back to his office and left him sipping cold coffee there and then walked out into the driving rain.

  Eight

  The widow Emma Siddons was in his store with a box of ten-penny nails and a box of eight-penny nails on the counter in front of her and Bill was ri
nging up the sale when he came through the door. Emma was older than god but she still did all her own carpentry work and repairs. A pair of summer people, a middle-aged man and woman, were going through the camping gear in back.

  Emma smiled at him and said hello and then as he passed said, ‘I haven’t seen that old dog of yours sniffing around my Evangeline the last few days.’

  ‘He’s gone, Emma,’ Ludlow said.

  ‘Gone?’

  ‘Boy shot him. Back by Miller’s Bend on Sunday.’

  ‘Oh my lord. Why would—?’

  ‘There wasn’t any sense to it. Just meanness.’

  He saw Bill staring at him.

  ‘Shot him? Old Red? Jeez, Av,’ he said, ‘why didn’t you say something?’

  ‘I don’t know. I buried him back of the house. I went to the boy’s father but I don’t think it bothers him much.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘I filed a complaint. Hope the law does its job, I guess.’

  ‘You saw Tom Bridgewater?’

  He nodded. ‘And Sam. And just now the assistant D.A. Fellow named Jackman. I signed the papers. Now I’ll just have to wait and see.’

  Bill shook his head.

  ‘Jesus. Kid would do a thing like that ought to be horsewhipped, if you ask me,’ he said. It was loud enough for the couple in back to hear. They turned and then hastily looked away.

  Ludlow bagged the nails for Emma and handed them to her. Bill gave her change out of a twenty.

  She turned to Ludlow and put a hand on his arm. Emma had a bad case of arthritis but the hand felt soft and smooth as butterfly wings.

  ‘I’m sorry, Av. For all my complaining when ’Vengline was in season, Red was a good old dog. I’ll miss him.’

  ‘Thanks, Emma. That’s good of you to say.’

  ‘You know my advice to you?’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Go out and get yourself another dog. Get yourself a pup and get him right away. You’ll feel a whole lot better for it, believe me.’

  ‘I don’t know, Emma. I might do that. We’ll see.’

  She gave his arm a pat and then removed her hand and turned toward the door.

  ‘Meantime,’ she said, ‘I hope Tom Bridgewater jails that little son of a bitch and throws away the key.’

  Ludlow smiled.

  It was the first time that day.

  Nine

  Business was slow so they were mostly caught up with their inventory by day’s end. He was about to let Bill go on home when Sam Berry walked in. Berry was holding the door for a slim, attractive young woman with dark hair and wearing a grey business suit who smiled at Sam and swung her attaché case through the doorway ahead of her. She threw back her hair with a toss of the head and walked to the counter. The smile was trained on Ludlow now.

  ‘Av,’ Sam said, ‘I want you to meet Carrie Donnel from WCAP News over in Portland.’

  ‘Mr Ludlow.’ She held out her hand.

  Ludlow took it, thinking it was a rare thing indeed that he’d felt the touch of two female hands in the course of a single day.

  ‘Miss Donnel.’

  ‘Carrie’s our secret weapon,’ Sam said. ‘And it looks as though we’ll need one.’

  ‘I don’t follow you.’

  ‘Jackman’s declined to prosecute. McCormack’s already got a lawyer, fellow by the name of Cummings. I know him well and he’s got plenty of clout, believe me. They’ve been in touch with D.A. Phelps. Got to him quick too, not much after you talked to Jackman. They’re arguing you could have picked up that shell casing anywhere, even if it does match. You could have shot your own dog for all they know. There’s no way you can match the load itself to any gun in particular.’

  ‘Oh, for god’s sake. Why would I want to do that?’

  ‘You wouldn’t. Point is, with all three boys denying it Phelps doesn’t think the case is strong enough to be bothered with. Especially not with this Cummings character making noises about slander. You ever throw Danny McCormack out of your store, Av?’

  ‘I never laid eyes on him before Sunday.’

  ‘’Course not. But what they’re saying is, you did. Threw him out for trying to steal a penknife a few months back or some damn thing. Trying to make out like you’re some kind of crank. Somebody with a grudge against the boy.’

  Ludlow shook his head. ‘I guess I’ve heard it all now.’

  ‘Not quite. Remember you telling me the boy denied knowing you in front of his father? Well, McCormack’s lawyer says that both boys are now saying they did know you. Knew you from here, right here from the store. And that’s all. Said they told you that right to your face in McCormack’s office. And McCormack’s backing them. Lying all the way. They’ve closed-ranks, Av. Tight.’

  ‘Pete Daoust too?’

  ‘Him too.’

  ‘I thought his parents might pull him around.’

  ‘McCormack works fast. It wouldn’t surprise me if there was money involved. The father’s out of work, you know.’

  He was aware of the woman’s eyes. The eyes hadn’t left him for a second. Through all of this she hadn’t so much as glanced in Sam’s direction. He was also aware of Bill’s silence behind him, standing so still that not so much as a board creaked beneath his feet. Ludlow didn’t like being the focus of all this attention. Sympathetic or not, it was making his anger burn just that much brighter. These people on him like a steady driving wind. He wanted to throw them all out of the store and start breaking things. That it would be his own things he was breaking didn’t matter.

  ‘I think maybe we can turn it around, though,’ Sam said. ‘Anyway, I think we’ve got a shot at it.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Miss Donnel here.’

  ‘There was a case in Lagrange last winter,’ she said. ‘A man owned a trailer just outside of town. The trailer lay on his brother’s property, though the trailer itself belonged to him. The man also had a house in town.

  ‘Apparently the man was away from his trailer for three weeks during one of the worst cold snaps of the year. He was staying at the house. Somebody, very possibly his brother actually, put in an anonymous call to the animal welfare people. A cruelty complaint. The sheriff’s office went out to investigate.

  ‘They found two dogs, barely alive, chained outside in the yard. One had neither food nor water and the other’s waterdish was nothing but a block of ice. They found a dead goose with a string around its neck lying beside the steps and a dead rabbit in a collar and chain out by a shed, both of them frozen solid. Inside they found six starving cats, three starving dogs and a parakeet dead in a cage in the bedroom. There was urine and feces everywhere. On the couch, on the bed, in the sink. Everywhere.’

  He watched her. He noticed the clipped speech, the restless movement of her hands, the wide brown eyes that barely blinked and gazed steady and businesslike into his own.

  ‘At first the man claimed he’d been coming up every two or three days to feed them. Then he claimed that his brother was supposed to. His lawyer argued that the sheriff’s office had no case, that they had to show possession. And that the animals weren’t in this man’s possession at the time because he was living elsewhere, consequently they weren’t his responsibility. The property was his brother’s. So the animals were his responsibility.’

  ‘But the animals belonged to him. Not to the brother.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘I guess the D.A.’s office didn’t feel like getting involved in a family squabble over a few starved animals. They decided to drop the charges. At least until the papers got hold of it and then the local TV station. That’s the point we’re making here, Mr Ludlow. It was the press and public opinion that forced them to prosecute. Once it hit the news they had to go ahead.’

  ‘And?’

  She sighed. ‘And the guy was acquitted. The judge ruled for the defense. He said that the animals weren’t in the man’s possession so they were
n’t his responsibility.’

  ‘And I bet they didn’t charge the brother either, am I right?’

  ‘No. They didn’t.’

  ‘So whose possession were they in?’

  ‘Nobody’s, I guess. In the law’s eyes, at least’

  ‘Look, Av,’ Sam interrupted. ‘The bad guy got away that time. That’s not saying it’s got to happen here. At least this way we’ve got a chance of getting them into court. Carrie’s a damn good reporter. That’s why I wanted her on this.’

  ‘You’re telling me you want to report all this on television?’

  ‘I want you to report it, Mr Ludlow. I want to take a film crew down to where it happened and interview you right there at Miller’s Bend. No naming names. Because at this point naming names is arguably slander. Just you, telling your story. What the boys did and then what the District Attorney’s Office isn’t willing to do. I want to piss people off about this! Excuse me,’ she said.

  Now he knew where the clipped speech pattern came from. She had the slower cadence down very well but the original had just come through like trumpets over a string quartet.

  ‘You’re not from around here, are you, Miss Donnel?’

  ‘I’m from New York, originally.’

  ‘I thought you might be.’

  ‘I’m an outsider? Is that it?’

  ‘Not at all.’

  ‘Will you do it, then?’

  ‘Go on television? I don’t know as I’d do very well at it, tell you the truth.’

  ‘You’ll be fine. I’d help you every inch of the way. We’d run it through until you were comfortable. I won’t just leave you hanging in the wind. I promise.’

  Ludlow thought about it. He didn’t even own a working TV anymore.

  ‘I don’t suppose you’ve got a dog, do you, Miss Donnel?’

  ‘Cats,’ she said. ‘Three of them.’

  ‘Cats.’

  ‘Three of them.’

  He nodded. ‘All right. I’ll do it.’

  Ten

  Two nights later he was watching himself on the six o’clock news on a set Carrie Donnel borrowed for him from the station.