Thanks to the Zucker Brothers!
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Friday, July 04, 2008
Our exchange student has gone back to Thailand
Eiam at the Air Force MuseumTop ten things overheard in the Kresge household during Eiam's stay:
10. Cold cut? What's a cold cut?
9. Can I have the space-heater back?
8. Don't you have any whole-wheat bread? (first day)
7. Is there any meat?
6. This glass is almost broken! (cracked a glass while doing dishes)
5. Is there any dessert?
4. Kalson ate all the barbecue pork sandwiches!
3. I think I'd like another ice cream.
2. Kalson come quick! Something is very wrong. (toilet overflowing)
1. And the number one thing overheard in the Kresge household during Eiam's stay... Is there cheesecake?
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
Friday, June 27, 2008
Nothing Better To Do - a novel in stories - Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
House looked at his watch. It was 7:00 a.m. Orel Paige had worked a four to twelve the night before. The super cruiser was parked in his driveway. House had borrowed a Nikkon with a zoom lens from the newsroom and stationed himself across the street from Paige's old Victorian house. It was trash day. He had found a refrigerator box on his walk from his house to the Paige residence and brought it along with him. He cut a hole in the side, big enough to poke the lens through, and, now, he was stationed inside, keeping a watch in the house across the street.
The door opened and Sarah Johns came out, carrying her school books. She turned left at the end of the front walk and started down the sidewalk to the school bus stop three blocks away. House could see Paige in one of the large upstairs windows. He appeared to be watching the girl as she walked down the street. House barely fit inside the box. He had to be careful not to move it by squirming.
He had been there since before six. He'd needed the cover of darkness to set up his look-out post. After the girl left for school, traffic picked up on the street between his position and Paige's house. He worried that someone might notice the box and decide that they needed it for something, or maybe some kids would come along on their way to school and decide to play with it. Instead, a dog wandered down the street, sniffed at the box, then lifted his leg on it. Fortunately for House, it was a sturdy box and it didn't leak through, but it did begin to smell.
He dared another look at his watch. It was almost nine. His back ached and he was cold. He wished he could stomp his feet or rub his hands to get the blood circulating, but he couldn't risk it. He wondered how long it would be before the police arrived. Gar would wait until the morning edition was loaded on the trucks, before calling the Chief of Police. That would have been around seven. The Chief, no doubt, would have to review the evidence and make some arrangements before sending officers over to make the arrest. He might even go to court to get a search warrant. Court would open in a few minutes. The District Attorney would have to draw up some papers to convince the Judge to issue a warrant. He started to think he'd over done it, getting there so early. He figured it would be at least another hour. Now, his head started to ache.
A car came down the street and slowed in front of the Paige house. The driver threw something out the passenger-side window onto Paige's lawn and drove off. House used the camera lens to zoom in on it. It was the current edition of The Serena Daily Banner! This was something he and Gar hadn't considered. Even with the camera, House couldn't read the headline, but he knew what it said, "INTERNET STING COP STUNG." Afterall, he had written the lead article, detailing the exploits of Orel Paige right down to the time his game warden brother caught him jacking a deer. He prayed that Paige wouldn't retrieve the paper before the cops came.
A large black dog sauntered down the street. I hope that's not Godzilla, he thought. Much to his relief, as the dog got closer, he could tell it wasn't. The dog sniffed at the box. It must have smelled him inside, because it growled, then barked twice. It sniffed around again, until it got the the spot where the other dog had pissed on the box. It, too, lifted it's leg and let go. Satisfied, it wandered off.
House peeked out the hole to see if Paige had been alerted by the barking. Sure enough, he was at the same upstairs window, looking out. Then he disappeared and, a minute later, the front door opened and he came out in his bath robe and picked up the newspaper. He took it back into the house, without looking at it.
House hoped that he wouldn't read the paper right away, but ten minutes later, the door opened again and Paige emerged fully dressed, carrying an overnight bag. All House could do was take his picture. He got a shot of him leaving the house and another of him getting into the super cruiser. He heard the engine crank and roar to life and he took another shot as Paige started to back down the driveway.
Before he could back all the way out, there was a loud WHOOP as a police car hit its siren briefly and turned onto Paige's street, blocking it. Another patrol car pulled onto the street from the other end and blocked it. House clicked away as the officers got out, weapons drawn, and ordered Paige out of his car. They made him get down on the ground - click! They had him put his hands behind his head - click! Then they cuffed him behind the back - click! They walked him back to his front door - click!
House began to tear at the hole in the box. It was time for him to reveal himself. The tearing sound attracted the attention of the Police Officers who had arrested Orel Paige. As they turned to see what was going on, one of the officers pointed his gun in House's direction. Once he was out of the box, they ordered hin to put his hands behind his head. His camera dangled from the strap around his neck. "I have press credentials," he announced.
The officer who had aimed his gun in House's direction crossed the street to where he was.
"Keep your hands on your head. Where are they?"
"In my back pocket."
The officer patted the pocket then reached in for House's Serena Daily Banner employee I.D. card. "Phew..! What's that smell?"
House explained and asked if he could let his hands down. After the officer looked at his I.D., he told him he could. "Did you get some good shots of us?" He was smiling.
"I got the whole thing."
"Are you the guy who wrote the article in today's paper?"
"The same."
"Congratulations. I never liked that son-of-a-bitch. He climbed over my back on his way up. I'm glad someone finally brought him down."
"You guys got a search warrant?"
"The Chief will be over from Court with it in a few minutes."
"You think he'll let me come inside with you - take a few photos of any evidence you might find?"
"Offer to publish his picture, leading Paige out in cuffs, and he'll let you do anything you want."
***
Later in the day, the Chief went to back court with the District Attorney to publicly consent to the release of the Adderhodlts, without bond. The trial was adjourned for two weeks, a mere formality to allow the District Attorney enough time to further investigate the matter and draw up dismissal papers. The District Attorney also announced that a number of other matters, where Officer Paige was involved, were under review.
When the case of The State of Ohio vs. Harry Kresge came on the calendar, one week later, for a refusal hearing, the courtroom was jam-packed with members of the media and curious towns people. House was seated next to Harry in the first row which was reserved for police officers, attorneys and the press. Seated right behind him were Phil Rowley and Hank Pitts. House scanned the rest of the courtroom, spotting, among others, Morley Stevens, Cal Gardner, Freddie Edwards, Miss Hyacinth and George Sturges. He had noticed Miss Hyacinth's bicycle chained to the courthouse bike rack on his way in.
When the case was called, Harry stepped into the well of the courtroom and announced his appearance, "Harry Kresge, the defendant, pro se."
"Are you ready for a hearing, Mr. Kresge?" the judge asked.
"Ready, Your Honor." Harry looked at his watch. It was nine o'clock, the earliest he'd been in court in his life.
"Mr. District Attorney...?" The judge already knew the answer.
"The State of Ohio is not ready to proceed at this time, Your Honor. We are asking for an adjournment of two weeks.
"May I ask why you are not ready?"
"Your honor, our only witness, Police Officer Orel Paige, is incarcerated at this time and unavailable to testify."
"And why didn't you make arrangements to have the County Jail produce him in court today?"
"Well Your Honor, we expect that he will be invoking the Fifth Amendment. We need time to discuss that matter with his attorney. If he were to appear in court today, he would have the right to have his attorney present. From what we understand, his attorney would not be available today, in any event."
"Approach the bench with Mr. Kresge!" The judge, who had a reputation for sternness, leered down at Harry.
"Your Honor?"
"Here's your license back."
"We would object to that, Your Honor," the D.A. protested.
The judge turned his sights from Harry to the D.A. He ground his teeth as he spoke. "I'm not going to waste one more minute on a case which you have no way of proving. Even if you did manage to get that scum-bucket Paige to testify, I would rule that his testimony was incredible as a matter of law."
The judge handed the license to Harry, then grimaced. "Where the hell'd you get that suit? Is that how they dress for court in New York?"
"A few of the fellas and I are headed down to the track right after this, Your Honor." He turned and looked to where Phil, Hank and House were seated.
The judge nodded at them. "Enjoy your afternoon, gentlemen. And I hope I never see any of you in my courtroom again. Case dismissed!"
House looked at his watch. It was 7:00 a.m. Orel Paige had worked a four to twelve the night before. The super cruiser was parked in his driveway. House had borrowed a Nikkon with a zoom lens from the newsroom and stationed himself across the street from Paige's old Victorian house. It was trash day. He had found a refrigerator box on his walk from his house to the Paige residence and brought it along with him. He cut a hole in the side, big enough to poke the lens through, and, now, he was stationed inside, keeping a watch in the house across the street.
The door opened and Sarah Johns came out, carrying her school books. She turned left at the end of the front walk and started down the sidewalk to the school bus stop three blocks away. House could see Paige in one of the large upstairs windows. He appeared to be watching the girl as she walked down the street. House barely fit inside the box. He had to be careful not to move it by squirming.
He had been there since before six. He'd needed the cover of darkness to set up his look-out post. After the girl left for school, traffic picked up on the street between his position and Paige's house. He worried that someone might notice the box and decide that they needed it for something, or maybe some kids would come along on their way to school and decide to play with it. Instead, a dog wandered down the street, sniffed at the box, then lifted his leg on it. Fortunately for House, it was a sturdy box and it didn't leak through, but it did begin to smell.
He dared another look at his watch. It was almost nine. His back ached and he was cold. He wished he could stomp his feet or rub his hands to get the blood circulating, but he couldn't risk it. He wondered how long it would be before the police arrived. Gar would wait until the morning edition was loaded on the trucks, before calling the Chief of Police. That would have been around seven. The Chief, no doubt, would have to review the evidence and make some arrangements before sending officers over to make the arrest. He might even go to court to get a search warrant. Court would open in a few minutes. The District Attorney would have to draw up some papers to convince the Judge to issue a warrant. He started to think he'd over done it, getting there so early. He figured it would be at least another hour. Now, his head started to ache.
A car came down the street and slowed in front of the Paige house. The driver threw something out the passenger-side window onto Paige's lawn and drove off. House used the camera lens to zoom in on it. It was the current edition of The Serena Daily Banner! This was something he and Gar hadn't considered. Even with the camera, House couldn't read the headline, but he knew what it said, "INTERNET STING COP STUNG." Afterall, he had written the lead article, detailing the exploits of Orel Paige right down to the time his game warden brother caught him jacking a deer. He prayed that Paige wouldn't retrieve the paper before the cops came.
A large black dog sauntered down the street. I hope that's not Godzilla, he thought. Much to his relief, as the dog got closer, he could tell it wasn't. The dog sniffed at the box. It must have smelled him inside, because it growled, then barked twice. It sniffed around again, until it got the the spot where the other dog had pissed on the box. It, too, lifted it's leg and let go. Satisfied, it wandered off.
House peeked out the hole to see if Paige had been alerted by the barking. Sure enough, he was at the same upstairs window, looking out. Then he disappeared and, a minute later, the front door opened and he came out in his bath robe and picked up the newspaper. He took it back into the house, without looking at it.
House hoped that he wouldn't read the paper right away, but ten minutes later, the door opened again and Paige emerged fully dressed, carrying an overnight bag. All House could do was take his picture. He got a shot of him leaving the house and another of him getting into the super cruiser. He heard the engine crank and roar to life and he took another shot as Paige started to back down the driveway.
Before he could back all the way out, there was a loud WHOOP as a police car hit its siren briefly and turned onto Paige's street, blocking it. Another patrol car pulled onto the street from the other end and blocked it. House clicked away as the officers got out, weapons drawn, and ordered Paige out of his car. They made him get down on the ground - click! They had him put his hands behind his head - click! Then they cuffed him behind the back - click! They walked him back to his front door - click!
House began to tear at the hole in the box. It was time for him to reveal himself. The tearing sound attracted the attention of the Police Officers who had arrested Orel Paige. As they turned to see what was going on, one of the officers pointed his gun in House's direction. Once he was out of the box, they ordered hin to put his hands behind his head. His camera dangled from the strap around his neck. "I have press credentials," he announced.
The officer who had aimed his gun in House's direction crossed the street to where he was.
"Keep your hands on your head. Where are they?"
"In my back pocket."
The officer patted the pocket then reached in for House's Serena Daily Banner employee I.D. card. "Phew..! What's that smell?"
House explained and asked if he could let his hands down. After the officer looked at his I.D., he told him he could. "Did you get some good shots of us?" He was smiling.
"I got the whole thing."
"Are you the guy who wrote the article in today's paper?"
"The same."
"Congratulations. I never liked that son-of-a-bitch. He climbed over my back on his way up. I'm glad someone finally brought him down."
"You guys got a search warrant?"
"The Chief will be over from Court with it in a few minutes."
"You think he'll let me come inside with you - take a few photos of any evidence you might find?"
"Offer to publish his picture, leading Paige out in cuffs, and he'll let you do anything you want."
***
Later in the day, the Chief went to back court with the District Attorney to publicly consent to the release of the Adderhodlts, without bond. The trial was adjourned for two weeks, a mere formality to allow the District Attorney enough time to further investigate the matter and draw up dismissal papers. The District Attorney also announced that a number of other matters, where Officer Paige was involved, were under review.
When the case of The State of Ohio vs. Harry Kresge came on the calendar, one week later, for a refusal hearing, the courtroom was jam-packed with members of the media and curious towns people. House was seated next to Harry in the first row which was reserved for police officers, attorneys and the press. Seated right behind him were Phil Rowley and Hank Pitts. House scanned the rest of the courtroom, spotting, among others, Morley Stevens, Cal Gardner, Freddie Edwards, Miss Hyacinth and George Sturges. He had noticed Miss Hyacinth's bicycle chained to the courthouse bike rack on his way in.
When the case was called, Harry stepped into the well of the courtroom and announced his appearance, "Harry Kresge, the defendant, pro se."
"Are you ready for a hearing, Mr. Kresge?" the judge asked.
"Ready, Your Honor." Harry looked at his watch. It was nine o'clock, the earliest he'd been in court in his life.
"Mr. District Attorney...?" The judge already knew the answer.
"The State of Ohio is not ready to proceed at this time, Your Honor. We are asking for an adjournment of two weeks.
"May I ask why you are not ready?"
"Your honor, our only witness, Police Officer Orel Paige, is incarcerated at this time and unavailable to testify."
"And why didn't you make arrangements to have the County Jail produce him in court today?"
"Well Your Honor, we expect that he will be invoking the Fifth Amendment. We need time to discuss that matter with his attorney. If he were to appear in court today, he would have the right to have his attorney present. From what we understand, his attorney would not be available today, in any event."
"Approach the bench with Mr. Kresge!" The judge, who had a reputation for sternness, leered down at Harry.
"Your Honor?"
"Here's your license back."
"We would object to that, Your Honor," the D.A. protested.
The judge turned his sights from Harry to the D.A. He ground his teeth as he spoke. "I'm not going to waste one more minute on a case which you have no way of proving. Even if you did manage to get that scum-bucket Paige to testify, I would rule that his testimony was incredible as a matter of law."
The judge handed the license to Harry, then grimaced. "Where the hell'd you get that suit? Is that how they dress for court in New York?"
"A few of the fellas and I are headed down to the track right after this, Your Honor." He turned and looked to where Phil, Hank and House were seated.
The judge nodded at them. "Enjoy your afternoon, gentlemen. And I hope I never see any of you in my courtroom again. Case dismissed!"
Nothing Better To Do - a novel in stories - Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Harry decided that, rather than go straight home, he'd be better off detouring by way of the Blue Moon. It wouldn't look good if a woman drove him home from the jail, especially a young attractive one, who had gone to the trouble of raising a thousand dollars cash bail, while her own husband was still in the county lock-up. He'd get a lift home from someone at the bar.
Audrey drove him there in the same blue car he had spotted behind the Snake pit, the day he first met her. Frankie's car, of course, was back in the custody of Orel Paige. It was the car he had used to chase Harry down the night before.
Harry knew she didn't have a thousand dollars of her own money. He speculated out loud that the bail must have come from contributions by the denizens of the Blue Moon.
"Actually, the money came from Gar Findlay." She explained.
"You're kidding."
"No. You're arrest finally satisfied him that Orel Paige really is dirty. Mr. Findlay had discussed your letters to the editor with the Police Chief. The Chief had convinced Findlay not to publish them, because he thought they would make him look foolish. When the Chief felt that there might be a backlash against his internet patrol, he cut it back to one officer and put Paige back in a police cruiser. When Paige protested, he showed him copies of your letters. Findlay realized that if Paige was getting back at you with this arrest, then he probably framed Frankie and Snake, too."
"How do you know all this?"
"When you were unable to attend, Phil Rowley asked me to go to the meeting at the newspaper yesterday afternoon. He said I could represent Frankie's interests."
"Who else was there?"
"This character they call the House of Pain. He had tapes and pictures and some articles of girl's clothing. I guess you know all about that. This Paige guy is filthier than I ever imagined. Gar asked me to keep it under my hat until they break it in tomorrow morning's paper. He's already called the Public Defender and Frankie and Snake's case has been advanced on the calendar for tomorrow for a bail application. They told me that they will probably get out, pending trial.
When I asked about you, Gar reached into his pocket and pulled out a roll of bills. I think he feels responsible for what happened to you. He said I should give you a message from him."
"What is it?"
"You're not a wacko, after all."
***
It was about ten o'clock when Morely Stevens pulled his truck into Harry's driveway to drop him off. The house was dark, but Harry noticed someone peeking through the curtains in the window of Billy's room. Harry hadn't called to tell them that he was out of jail, but he knew that Billy would be looking for him anyway. He could never sleep without Harry in the house. The light came on in the living room and the front door was opened before Harry was halfway up the front walk.
"Harry!" The boy wrapped himself around one of Harry's legs.
"Hi, guy. Miss me?"
"How come Mom didn't know you were coming home?"
"If she had bailed me out, she would have known. That's how it works, squirt."
"Who did bail you out?"
"Some of my friends took up a collection." Harry figured it was simpler to lie than go through a long explanation. "Want something to eat? I'm hungry."
"Okay, make me some oatmeal."
Harry knew the kid must have missed him a lot. Billy hated oatmeal. Whenever Harry made it for him, it was a struggle to get him to finish it. "How about Spam and eggs? We got any left over grits?"
The boy opened the refrigerator and started pulling out the eggs and the bowl with the grits. "If you were in charge, would you eat grits all the time?"
"Who says I'm not in charge?"
"Let's face it, Harry, Mom kicks your butt all the time."
"Is that right? Who was it that wanted to follow me down here when I left home?"
"It doesn't make any difference, she still kicks your butt all the time."
"Yeah, and she's really gonna kick your butt for getting drunk and getting arrested!" Amy wiped the sleep out of her eyes and came over to where Harry was seated at the kitchen table eating his eggs. She must have been awakened by the conversation in the kitchen. She hugged Harry around the neck, letting his stubble scratch against her cheek.
"Okay kids. Go to bed. It's time for Harry to face the music." He put the dishes in the sink and turned out the kitchen light.
The TV was on in the bedroom, but the lights were out. Jenny was snoring. She was curled up on his side of the bed with her head on his pillow. Harry knew she must have missed him. She always complained that his pillow smelled funny. "You smell like cheese," she would tell him. He knew he didn't. It was just another pressure tactic. She was always trying to get him to watch his diet, complaining that he ate too much cheese. As far as Harry was concerned, the Chinese just didn't understand cheese. The kids liked it, though. And that was another sore point.
Jenny stirred as Harry started to take off his pants. "Who bailed you out?"
"The boys." He figured he might as well be consistent.
"I figured they would. It took them this long to get up the money? Com'ere, I want to smell your breath."
Harry was safe. The food he had just consumed covered the smell of the beer he'd had earlier.
"You smell like Spam. Did the kids wake up when you came in?"
"Yeah."
"The little guy's been watching for you all day. They both missed you."
"Why didn't you bail me out?"
"You needed a lesson."
"You were going to let me stay a second night?"
"Maybe..."
Harry finished undressing and started to slip under the covers.
"Oh, no. You dirty thing..."
"Okay, I'll take a shower. I was just tired, is all..."
"You really are a dirty old man, Harry. I bet if I weren't around, you'd never shave and you'd probably bathe about once a week."
In fact, for the six weeks or so that Harry had lived alone in Serena, that had been pretty much the case. When she flew out to scope out the place for the first time, she made him shave off a pretty decent beard. It had come in gray, almost white. She hated the fact that it made him truly look the fourteen years older than her that he was.
Harry took a quick shower and climbed back into bed, just in time for the eleven o'clock news. There was the usual stuff, a shooting, a string of break-ins, a bad accident that backed up the interstate. Then there was footage of Harry, cuffed behind the back, being led by Orel Paige from the police station, to the courthouse across the street. "A Serena man who was arrested for D.U.I. yesterday will be representing himself in County Court," the woman newscaster announced. "For more on that, we take you to our Greene County Bureau." They cut to a shot of a young man with a microphone. The courthouse was in the background. He went on to explain that the man, one Harry Kresge, was actually a lawyer from New York who had recently moved to town.
"Another slow news day," Harry groaned.
"This is great. Now everyone at work will know..."
"What have you been telling them about me?"
"Nothing. They don't ask, I don't tell. I call you my fiancee. That's all."
"They don't know I used to be a lawyer?"
"No. And stop that 'used to be' stuff. You can still be a lawyer."
"I hated being a lawyer, that's why I quit. I'm a writer."
"I hate my job, too, but I go to work every day. Six months and you haven't made a penny. Are you just going to sit there and watch me struggle forever? You could open an office, do some wills or something..."
"Never! We had a deal. You said you'd give me two years."
"Two years? I said that?"
"Yeah, you said that!"
"Never mind... I know you're working hard at it."
"My novel's just about done. Now I've got to try to sell it. If that doesn't work out, there will be another and another, each better than the last. Maybe I can sell a story in between. They keep saying nice things about me over at Esquire."
"Send them something else! I have this feeling that you're just sending them the wrong kind of stories. I see the kind of books you read. Most people don't read that stuff. I think you're trying to be too fancy."
"You mean too intellectual?"
"Yeah, that."
"Ha! I've got to write something new. I'm running out of stuff. They get thousands of stories every month. It's like trying to make it in the N.B.A."
"What's the N.B.A.?"
"Never mind..."
"Turn off the TV, Harry!"
He searched the covers for the remote, then clicked it off. "I love you," he whispered in the dark.
"I love you, too. But I wonder how much you really love me, you old fart. If you really loved me, you wouldn't get arrested. What's going to happen to me and the kids, if you go to jail?"
Harry was already asleep.
Harry decided that, rather than go straight home, he'd be better off detouring by way of the Blue Moon. It wouldn't look good if a woman drove him home from the jail, especially a young attractive one, who had gone to the trouble of raising a thousand dollars cash bail, while her own husband was still in the county lock-up. He'd get a lift home from someone at the bar.
Audrey drove him there in the same blue car he had spotted behind the Snake pit, the day he first met her. Frankie's car, of course, was back in the custody of Orel Paige. It was the car he had used to chase Harry down the night before.
Harry knew she didn't have a thousand dollars of her own money. He speculated out loud that the bail must have come from contributions by the denizens of the Blue Moon.
"Actually, the money came from Gar Findlay." She explained.
"You're kidding."
"No. You're arrest finally satisfied him that Orel Paige really is dirty. Mr. Findlay had discussed your letters to the editor with the Police Chief. The Chief had convinced Findlay not to publish them, because he thought they would make him look foolish. When the Chief felt that there might be a backlash against his internet patrol, he cut it back to one officer and put Paige back in a police cruiser. When Paige protested, he showed him copies of your letters. Findlay realized that if Paige was getting back at you with this arrest, then he probably framed Frankie and Snake, too."
"How do you know all this?"
"When you were unable to attend, Phil Rowley asked me to go to the meeting at the newspaper yesterday afternoon. He said I could represent Frankie's interests."
"Who else was there?"
"This character they call the House of Pain. He had tapes and pictures and some articles of girl's clothing. I guess you know all about that. This Paige guy is filthier than I ever imagined. Gar asked me to keep it under my hat until they break it in tomorrow morning's paper. He's already called the Public Defender and Frankie and Snake's case has been advanced on the calendar for tomorrow for a bail application. They told me that they will probably get out, pending trial.
When I asked about you, Gar reached into his pocket and pulled out a roll of bills. I think he feels responsible for what happened to you. He said I should give you a message from him."
"What is it?"
"You're not a wacko, after all."
***
It was about ten o'clock when Morely Stevens pulled his truck into Harry's driveway to drop him off. The house was dark, but Harry noticed someone peeking through the curtains in the window of Billy's room. Harry hadn't called to tell them that he was out of jail, but he knew that Billy would be looking for him anyway. He could never sleep without Harry in the house. The light came on in the living room and the front door was opened before Harry was halfway up the front walk.
"Harry!" The boy wrapped himself around one of Harry's legs.
"Hi, guy. Miss me?"
"How come Mom didn't know you were coming home?"
"If she had bailed me out, she would have known. That's how it works, squirt."
"Who did bail you out?"
"Some of my friends took up a collection." Harry figured it was simpler to lie than go through a long explanation. "Want something to eat? I'm hungry."
"Okay, make me some oatmeal."
Harry knew the kid must have missed him a lot. Billy hated oatmeal. Whenever Harry made it for him, it was a struggle to get him to finish it. "How about Spam and eggs? We got any left over grits?"
The boy opened the refrigerator and started pulling out the eggs and the bowl with the grits. "If you were in charge, would you eat grits all the time?"
"Who says I'm not in charge?"
"Let's face it, Harry, Mom kicks your butt all the time."
"Is that right? Who was it that wanted to follow me down here when I left home?"
"It doesn't make any difference, she still kicks your butt all the time."
"Yeah, and she's really gonna kick your butt for getting drunk and getting arrested!" Amy wiped the sleep out of her eyes and came over to where Harry was seated at the kitchen table eating his eggs. She must have been awakened by the conversation in the kitchen. She hugged Harry around the neck, letting his stubble scratch against her cheek.
"Okay kids. Go to bed. It's time for Harry to face the music." He put the dishes in the sink and turned out the kitchen light.
The TV was on in the bedroom, but the lights were out. Jenny was snoring. She was curled up on his side of the bed with her head on his pillow. Harry knew she must have missed him. She always complained that his pillow smelled funny. "You smell like cheese," she would tell him. He knew he didn't. It was just another pressure tactic. She was always trying to get him to watch his diet, complaining that he ate too much cheese. As far as Harry was concerned, the Chinese just didn't understand cheese. The kids liked it, though. And that was another sore point.
Jenny stirred as Harry started to take off his pants. "Who bailed you out?"
"The boys." He figured he might as well be consistent.
"I figured they would. It took them this long to get up the money? Com'ere, I want to smell your breath."
Harry was safe. The food he had just consumed covered the smell of the beer he'd had earlier.
"You smell like Spam. Did the kids wake up when you came in?"
"Yeah."
"The little guy's been watching for you all day. They both missed you."
"Why didn't you bail me out?"
"You needed a lesson."
"You were going to let me stay a second night?"
"Maybe..."
Harry finished undressing and started to slip under the covers.
"Oh, no. You dirty thing..."
"Okay, I'll take a shower. I was just tired, is all..."
"You really are a dirty old man, Harry. I bet if I weren't around, you'd never shave and you'd probably bathe about once a week."
In fact, for the six weeks or so that Harry had lived alone in Serena, that had been pretty much the case. When she flew out to scope out the place for the first time, she made him shave off a pretty decent beard. It had come in gray, almost white. She hated the fact that it made him truly look the fourteen years older than her that he was.
Harry took a quick shower and climbed back into bed, just in time for the eleven o'clock news. There was the usual stuff, a shooting, a string of break-ins, a bad accident that backed up the interstate. Then there was footage of Harry, cuffed behind the back, being led by Orel Paige from the police station, to the courthouse across the street. "A Serena man who was arrested for D.U.I. yesterday will be representing himself in County Court," the woman newscaster announced. "For more on that, we take you to our Greene County Bureau." They cut to a shot of a young man with a microphone. The courthouse was in the background. He went on to explain that the man, one Harry Kresge, was actually a lawyer from New York who had recently moved to town.
"Another slow news day," Harry groaned.
"This is great. Now everyone at work will know..."
"What have you been telling them about me?"
"Nothing. They don't ask, I don't tell. I call you my fiancee. That's all."
"They don't know I used to be a lawyer?"
"No. And stop that 'used to be' stuff. You can still be a lawyer."
"I hated being a lawyer, that's why I quit. I'm a writer."
"I hate my job, too, but I go to work every day. Six months and you haven't made a penny. Are you just going to sit there and watch me struggle forever? You could open an office, do some wills or something..."
"Never! We had a deal. You said you'd give me two years."
"Two years? I said that?"
"Yeah, you said that!"
"Never mind... I know you're working hard at it."
"My novel's just about done. Now I've got to try to sell it. If that doesn't work out, there will be another and another, each better than the last. Maybe I can sell a story in between. They keep saying nice things about me over at Esquire."
"Send them something else! I have this feeling that you're just sending them the wrong kind of stories. I see the kind of books you read. Most people don't read that stuff. I think you're trying to be too fancy."
"You mean too intellectual?"
"Yeah, that."
"Ha! I've got to write something new. I'm running out of stuff. They get thousands of stories every month. It's like trying to make it in the N.B.A."
"What's the N.B.A.?"
"Never mind..."
"Turn off the TV, Harry!"
He searched the covers for the remote, then clicked it off. "I love you," he whispered in the dark.
"I love you, too. But I wonder how much you really love me, you old fart. If you really loved me, you wouldn't get arrested. What's going to happen to me and the kids, if you go to jail?"
Harry was already asleep.
Nothing Better To Do - a novel in stories - Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Harry's decision to refuse the breathalizer was no rash judgment. If he had blown into it, it probably would have shown a blood-alcohol level somewhere close to a .20, well above the state minimum. The consequence of refusal would be the loss of his driving privileges, subject to a hearing, that is, and a presumption at trial, that he had refused the test, because he had known he was intoxicated. If he had taken the test, there would have been witnesses and corroborating evidence, other than Orel Paige. The test, no doubt, would have been administered by someone else, someone with training on the equipment. As it stood, with the refusal, it was Paige's word that he had seen him driving erratically and there had been the smell of alcohol on his breath against his. Harry was banking on the fact that Paige's word was soon to be shown to be questionable.
At his arraignment the next morning, Harry asked to speak to the Public Defender. His request was denied pending proof of his indigence. Harry then elected to represent himself. The judge set bail at one thousand dollars because of Harry's refusal to submit to the breathalizer and the fact that he had lived within the state for less than a year. The judge also took his driver's license.
Harry had been planning on conducting his own defense all along. The reason why he had wanted to speak to the Public Defender was to provide him with the salient details of Officer Paige's lack of credibility in so far as it applied to the Adderholdts' case. Now that would have to wait until Jenny bailed him out.
Jenny was hot when he called. "Stay there! A taste of jail will do you good." Her diatribe covered all the ground from his skipping off to Ohio without her, to his long slide from criminal lawyer to "just plain criminal."
"Listen, I've got to get out. This goes beyond just my dilemma."
"You bet it does! What are the neighbors and the people at work going to think of me, when they find out you've been arrested for drunken driving? Bail you out? Hah!"
This wasn't working out as Harry had hoped. He told himself he should have known better. She never argues the central point, the logical issues. She always sidetracks into the emotional. It always comes down to respect. And she would never let him fight the current skirmish without having to re-fight the entire war.
"Don't you understand that this was a set up? This guy Paige has been laying for me ever since he was taken off that stupid kiddie-porn patrol. You know what he called me? He called me a tassel-loafered shyster! For Christ's sake, I was wearing sneakers when he made me get out of the car and take the position! He's the same one who gave you..."
She cut him off. "Don't try to defend yourself!"
This was always her strongest tactic. Once she said that, there was no use in going on. If he did, she would simply say, "I told you, don't try to defend yourself." So he shut up, didn't offer another word in his defense. There was nothing but the din of prison from his end of the line, inmates yelling, guards shouting, cell doors slamming shut.
She continued, raising all the old complaints, re-fighting all the old battles, getting madder. "Oh, I know your game," she said, after awhile. "You're just going to sit there and say nothing!"
He decided to go for sympathy. "I miss you and the kids."
"Oh right, the kids. I forgot about the kids. Imagine the disgrace when they have to face their classmates in school, tomorrow."
"Are you kidding? Half their fathers have been busted for D.U.I."
"That's it. I told you, don't try to defend yourself." She hung up.
Although he was technically entitled to only one, Harry managed to beg a second phone call. He called the Blue Moon to ask Freddie Edwards to pass the word to Phil and House that he was in the lock-up and wouldn't be able to meet with them at the offices of the Banner that afternoon.
At six o'clock, a guard opened his cell and told him he had been bailed. As he was being released through the visiting area, he braced himself for a furious attack by a very angry Jenny. He decided to act contrite. But when he walked into the reception lobby, the woman who was waiting for him was Audrey Adderholdt.
This is just great, Harry thought, how am I going to explain this?
Harry's decision to refuse the breathalizer was no rash judgment. If he had blown into it, it probably would have shown a blood-alcohol level somewhere close to a .20, well above the state minimum. The consequence of refusal would be the loss of his driving privileges, subject to a hearing, that is, and a presumption at trial, that he had refused the test, because he had known he was intoxicated. If he had taken the test, there would have been witnesses and corroborating evidence, other than Orel Paige. The test, no doubt, would have been administered by someone else, someone with training on the equipment. As it stood, with the refusal, it was Paige's word that he had seen him driving erratically and there had been the smell of alcohol on his breath against his. Harry was banking on the fact that Paige's word was soon to be shown to be questionable.
At his arraignment the next morning, Harry asked to speak to the Public Defender. His request was denied pending proof of his indigence. Harry then elected to represent himself. The judge set bail at one thousand dollars because of Harry's refusal to submit to the breathalizer and the fact that he had lived within the state for less than a year. The judge also took his driver's license.
Harry had been planning on conducting his own defense all along. The reason why he had wanted to speak to the Public Defender was to provide him with the salient details of Officer Paige's lack of credibility in so far as it applied to the Adderholdts' case. Now that would have to wait until Jenny bailed him out.
Jenny was hot when he called. "Stay there! A taste of jail will do you good." Her diatribe covered all the ground from his skipping off to Ohio without her, to his long slide from criminal lawyer to "just plain criminal."
"Listen, I've got to get out. This goes beyond just my dilemma."
"You bet it does! What are the neighbors and the people at work going to think of me, when they find out you've been arrested for drunken driving? Bail you out? Hah!"
This wasn't working out as Harry had hoped. He told himself he should have known better. She never argues the central point, the logical issues. She always sidetracks into the emotional. It always comes down to respect. And she would never let him fight the current skirmish without having to re-fight the entire war.
"Don't you understand that this was a set up? This guy Paige has been laying for me ever since he was taken off that stupid kiddie-porn patrol. You know what he called me? He called me a tassel-loafered shyster! For Christ's sake, I was wearing sneakers when he made me get out of the car and take the position! He's the same one who gave you..."
She cut him off. "Don't try to defend yourself!"
This was always her strongest tactic. Once she said that, there was no use in going on. If he did, she would simply say, "I told you, don't try to defend yourself." So he shut up, didn't offer another word in his defense. There was nothing but the din of prison from his end of the line, inmates yelling, guards shouting, cell doors slamming shut.
She continued, raising all the old complaints, re-fighting all the old battles, getting madder. "Oh, I know your game," she said, after awhile. "You're just going to sit there and say nothing!"
He decided to go for sympathy. "I miss you and the kids."
"Oh right, the kids. I forgot about the kids. Imagine the disgrace when they have to face their classmates in school, tomorrow."
"Are you kidding? Half their fathers have been busted for D.U.I."
"That's it. I told you, don't try to defend yourself." She hung up.
Although he was technically entitled to only one, Harry managed to beg a second phone call. He called the Blue Moon to ask Freddie Edwards to pass the word to Phil and House that he was in the lock-up and wouldn't be able to meet with them at the offices of the Banner that afternoon.
At six o'clock, a guard opened his cell and told him he had been bailed. As he was being released through the visiting area, he braced himself for a furious attack by a very angry Jenny. He decided to act contrite. But when he walked into the reception lobby, the woman who was waiting for him was Audrey Adderholdt.
This is just great, Harry thought, how am I going to explain this?
Nothing Better To Do - a novel in stories - Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
The headline of the Serena Daily Banner was to read: "POLICE SEIZE DRUG CAR - BROTHERS' BAIL SET AT $100,000 EACH." House read the lead slugs as they came out of Louie's machine.
"Who made the arrest?" he asked, Louie.
"Let me see..." Louie scanned down the copy he was working from. "Police Officer Orel Paige."
House turned and headed for the fire exit.
"Where you going?" Louie called after him.
"To see Gar."
"You're on a first name basis, now, I see."
***
"That's a fine piece of writing, that bit you did on Hyacinth Haynes," Gar Findlay told him as he came through the door. "We'll run it on Saturday, in the "Life Styles" section. Congratulations on your first story."
"Thanks, but that's not why I'm here. It's about Orel Paige. Remember when you said you had a feeling there was going to be a right time to release that stuff I dug up. How about in connection with today's lead story?"
"No, I don't think so."
"Well then, how about tomorrow, as a follow up?"
"Look, I've decided it's too hot a potato for a small town like this. We can't go around destroying the credibility of our police officers."
"You called it your newspaper man's instinct."
"My instinct tells me to let sleeping dogs lay."
"But what if Officer Paige is lying? What if he planted the drugs just to get the car back?"
"That's a bit of a stretch, isn't it? What's one thing got to do with the other? And besides, it's the girl's word against his. She never did produce those photos."
Actually, she had. She had found them on the internet. House's own newspaper man's instinct had told him to hold off on reporting it to Gar, especially after he had heard that he would be playing poker with the Police Chief. And even before that, House's instinct had told him to make a copy of the tape, prior to turning it over to his Editor.
"Yes, sir. And thanks for using my story about Miss Hyacinth."
"That's prize-winning material, you've got there, House. I wouldn't be surprised if the wire services pick it up."
"Thank you, sir." House retreated to the linotype room.
***
The handwriting on the small package looked familiar to Harry. He went into the kitchen and found a steak knife to open it. Inside was an audio cassette and a note: "Check this out and call me if you're interested." Included in the note was an internet URL - http://www.preteentitties.com/images/sarah1.jpg. It was signed Marvin Payne and it had a local phone number.
Harry listened to the tape on his walkman, then booted up his computer and went on the net. He found that in addition to sarah1.jpg, there were almost a dozen other photographs, depicting a poorly disguised Orel Paige in various poses with a young girl. In some of the pictures, they were doing things with his service revolver. In another one, she was painting his genitals with orange paint. When he was through, he dialed the number and asked the woman who answered the phone if he could speak with Marvin Payne.
"Do I know you?" Harry asked the man who came to the phone.
"I don't think so." The man sounded nervous.
"Why did you choose me to send this stuff to?"
"I've read your letters to the editor about the Serena Police and Officer Paige."
"Letters? I thought that only one of those letters was published."
"I work at the paper."
"Are you the one who responded to my letter about the dog."
House hesitated for a moment. "Yes, that was me."
"What do you do at the paper?"
"Sweep up and write stories."
"Well, this is some serious stuff. You blow Officer Paige's credibility all to hell. The problem is how to handle this. Does the editor of the paper know about this?"
"The tape, not the pictures. I held back on telling him about the pictures. There's something else. I have the girl's dress with a stain on it. I thought to get it from her from having read about the President and Monica Lewinsky."
"Where's he want to go with this?"
"Bury it, like he buried your letters. That's why I didn't tell him about the photographs. You're a lawyer, right? You should know what to do about this. Just keep me out of it."
"I'm going to turn it over to the Public Defender. He's the one who's representing the Adderholdt brothers. But I don't see any way to keep you out of this."
"You know Phil Rowley, don't you? From the Blue Moon..?"
"Yes, I know Phil. Is he a friend of yours?"
"Yes, I'm gonna ask him if he can give me a ride over to the Blue Moon. Can we meet over there?"
"Sure. How about in one hour. Call me back if he can't make it." Harry gave him his number.
***
"I know Gar Findlay pretty well. I knew his father. I used to do all the plumbing work over at the paper. Gar is kind of spoiled, you might say. His father had shit under his nails, but he made sure his son didn't. He sent him away to prep school in Massachusetts and later to Columbia to major in journalism. He thought he'd take the paper up a notch, really make something out of it. But Gar was lazy. He always chose the path of least resistance. But he's no fool, mind ya. He can be made to listen to reason." Phil took another sip on his beer.
It was Harry's turn to talk. They were trying to reason with House, who was afraid to apply any muscle to his boss. "There's no way to see that justice is done and keep you and Gar out of this. The Judge and the D.A. are going to demand to know where this tape came from. For Christ's sake, your voice is even on it in a couple places. The best thing to do is to go to Gar and warn him in advance. If he has half the brain Phil here says he has, he will turn this around so that you and he look like heros, and the Chief of Police will do the same thing. Orel Paige will be dismissed from the Police Force and will probably go to jail, where he belongs."
"I'm afraid he's going to fire me."
"Phil and I will be with you to reason with him. Once the cat is out of the bag, I don't see how he can fire you. Let's call him and set up a meeting for tomorrow."
"Okay, but he says you're a wacko," House still sounded hesitant, but smiled when he uttered the word wacko.
Harry grimaced. "Phil, why don't you call him?" And so it was arranged.
***
Phil gave House a lift home, leaving Harry at the bar with Cal and Morely. Harry soon forgot his promise to Jenny, not to stay out too late. It was past supper time. Morely was explaining that for smoother grits, you had to add extra water and boil them longer before leaving them to simmer, when the phone behind the bar rang.
"Harry, it's for you," Freddie announced, stretching the long chord to where Harry was seated.
"You dog!" It was Jenny. She hung up, before he could reply.
"Time to go, boys." Harry handed the phone back to Freddie and climbed down from his stool.
It was dark in the parking lot of the Blue Moon. Harry couldn't have seen Orel Paige's cruiser, poking its nose out from behind the abandoned gas station across the road, even if he had thought to look for it.
***
There was barely enough of a shoulder to pull over on. It didn't matter, though. There wasn't another car on the road.
Paige came to the driver's side window. "Put your hands on the steering wheel where I can see them!"
As far as Harry knew, this procedure was usually reserved for armed suspects. "Don't you want to see my license and registration?" he asked in disbelief.
"This ain't New York. Don't try to tell me my job."
So he knows who I am, Harry thought. That part of it didn't surprise him. He put both hands on the top of the wheel. "What now?"
"Shut up!" Paige circled the car in the dark, shining a flashlight into every visible corner of the station wagon's interior. When he was done, he ordered Harry out. "Lay flat on the ground, face down, with your hands on the back of your head!"
"Are you fucking kidding me? For a traffic stop?"
"Do it now!" Paige unsnapped his holster guard and removed his service revolver. He held it at his side, pointed at the ground.
Kresge lay down on the ground. He wished that another car would pass by to witness this absurdity. But none did. "Call for backup! I want witnesses!"
"I'm the one giving the orders." Paige leaned into the car with his flashlight.
"If you try to plant any shit on me, I'll sue your ass!"
"That's just the kind of threat I'd expect from a tassel-loafered shyster like you. Put your hands behind your back!" He reached down and cuffed him. Then he frisked him as he lay on the ground. "I'm taking you in for a breathalizer."
Harry twisted his head around so he could see the cop standing over him. "You can kiss my ass with your breathalizer!"
Paige reached down and jerked Harry to his feet by the hand cuffs. The pain was intense, but brief. Harry managed not to scream. "Anybody ever tell you how stupid you look in that hat?"
"You can bait me all you want, lawyer. The only marks I'm going to leave on you are where the hard bench in the holding cell leaves lines on your ass from having sat in jail all night." He keyed his radio. "This is Paige. I'm on Dayton-Serena Road about a mile west of the speedway. I'm holding a D.U.I. for transport."
"Ain't that a bitch..." Harry mumbled to the night.
The headline of the Serena Daily Banner was to read: "POLICE SEIZE DRUG CAR - BROTHERS' BAIL SET AT $100,000 EACH." House read the lead slugs as they came out of Louie's machine.
"Who made the arrest?" he asked, Louie.
"Let me see..." Louie scanned down the copy he was working from. "Police Officer Orel Paige."
House turned and headed for the fire exit.
"Where you going?" Louie called after him.
"To see Gar."
"You're on a first name basis, now, I see."
***
"That's a fine piece of writing, that bit you did on Hyacinth Haynes," Gar Findlay told him as he came through the door. "We'll run it on Saturday, in the "Life Styles" section. Congratulations on your first story."
"Thanks, but that's not why I'm here. It's about Orel Paige. Remember when you said you had a feeling there was going to be a right time to release that stuff I dug up. How about in connection with today's lead story?"
"No, I don't think so."
"Well then, how about tomorrow, as a follow up?"
"Look, I've decided it's too hot a potato for a small town like this. We can't go around destroying the credibility of our police officers."
"You called it your newspaper man's instinct."
"My instinct tells me to let sleeping dogs lay."
"But what if Officer Paige is lying? What if he planted the drugs just to get the car back?"
"That's a bit of a stretch, isn't it? What's one thing got to do with the other? And besides, it's the girl's word against his. She never did produce those photos."
Actually, she had. She had found them on the internet. House's own newspaper man's instinct had told him to hold off on reporting it to Gar, especially after he had heard that he would be playing poker with the Police Chief. And even before that, House's instinct had told him to make a copy of the tape, prior to turning it over to his Editor.
"Yes, sir. And thanks for using my story about Miss Hyacinth."
"That's prize-winning material, you've got there, House. I wouldn't be surprised if the wire services pick it up."
"Thank you, sir." House retreated to the linotype room.
***
The handwriting on the small package looked familiar to Harry. He went into the kitchen and found a steak knife to open it. Inside was an audio cassette and a note: "Check this out and call me if you're interested." Included in the note was an internet URL - http://www.preteentitties.com/images/sarah1.jpg. It was signed Marvin Payne and it had a local phone number.
Harry listened to the tape on his walkman, then booted up his computer and went on the net. He found that in addition to sarah1.jpg, there were almost a dozen other photographs, depicting a poorly disguised Orel Paige in various poses with a young girl. In some of the pictures, they were doing things with his service revolver. In another one, she was painting his genitals with orange paint. When he was through, he dialed the number and asked the woman who answered the phone if he could speak with Marvin Payne.
"Do I know you?" Harry asked the man who came to the phone.
"I don't think so." The man sounded nervous.
"Why did you choose me to send this stuff to?"
"I've read your letters to the editor about the Serena Police and Officer Paige."
"Letters? I thought that only one of those letters was published."
"I work at the paper."
"Are you the one who responded to my letter about the dog."
House hesitated for a moment. "Yes, that was me."
"What do you do at the paper?"
"Sweep up and write stories."
"Well, this is some serious stuff. You blow Officer Paige's credibility all to hell. The problem is how to handle this. Does the editor of the paper know about this?"
"The tape, not the pictures. I held back on telling him about the pictures. There's something else. I have the girl's dress with a stain on it. I thought to get it from her from having read about the President and Monica Lewinsky."
"Where's he want to go with this?"
"Bury it, like he buried your letters. That's why I didn't tell him about the photographs. You're a lawyer, right? You should know what to do about this. Just keep me out of it."
"I'm going to turn it over to the Public Defender. He's the one who's representing the Adderholdt brothers. But I don't see any way to keep you out of this."
"You know Phil Rowley, don't you? From the Blue Moon..?"
"Yes, I know Phil. Is he a friend of yours?"
"Yes, I'm gonna ask him if he can give me a ride over to the Blue Moon. Can we meet over there?"
"Sure. How about in one hour. Call me back if he can't make it." Harry gave him his number.
***
"I know Gar Findlay pretty well. I knew his father. I used to do all the plumbing work over at the paper. Gar is kind of spoiled, you might say. His father had shit under his nails, but he made sure his son didn't. He sent him away to prep school in Massachusetts and later to Columbia to major in journalism. He thought he'd take the paper up a notch, really make something out of it. But Gar was lazy. He always chose the path of least resistance. But he's no fool, mind ya. He can be made to listen to reason." Phil took another sip on his beer.
It was Harry's turn to talk. They were trying to reason with House, who was afraid to apply any muscle to his boss. "There's no way to see that justice is done and keep you and Gar out of this. The Judge and the D.A. are going to demand to know where this tape came from. For Christ's sake, your voice is even on it in a couple places. The best thing to do is to go to Gar and warn him in advance. If he has half the brain Phil here says he has, he will turn this around so that you and he look like heros, and the Chief of Police will do the same thing. Orel Paige will be dismissed from the Police Force and will probably go to jail, where he belongs."
"I'm afraid he's going to fire me."
"Phil and I will be with you to reason with him. Once the cat is out of the bag, I don't see how he can fire you. Let's call him and set up a meeting for tomorrow."
"Okay, but he says you're a wacko," House still sounded hesitant, but smiled when he uttered the word wacko.
Harry grimaced. "Phil, why don't you call him?" And so it was arranged.
***
Phil gave House a lift home, leaving Harry at the bar with Cal and Morely. Harry soon forgot his promise to Jenny, not to stay out too late. It was past supper time. Morely was explaining that for smoother grits, you had to add extra water and boil them longer before leaving them to simmer, when the phone behind the bar rang.
"Harry, it's for you," Freddie announced, stretching the long chord to where Harry was seated.
"You dog!" It was Jenny. She hung up, before he could reply.
"Time to go, boys." Harry handed the phone back to Freddie and climbed down from his stool.
It was dark in the parking lot of the Blue Moon. Harry couldn't have seen Orel Paige's cruiser, poking its nose out from behind the abandoned gas station across the road, even if he had thought to look for it.
***
There was barely enough of a shoulder to pull over on. It didn't matter, though. There wasn't another car on the road.
Paige came to the driver's side window. "Put your hands on the steering wheel where I can see them!"
As far as Harry knew, this procedure was usually reserved for armed suspects. "Don't you want to see my license and registration?" he asked in disbelief.
"This ain't New York. Don't try to tell me my job."
So he knows who I am, Harry thought. That part of it didn't surprise him. He put both hands on the top of the wheel. "What now?"
"Shut up!" Paige circled the car in the dark, shining a flashlight into every visible corner of the station wagon's interior. When he was done, he ordered Harry out. "Lay flat on the ground, face down, with your hands on the back of your head!"
"Are you fucking kidding me? For a traffic stop?"
"Do it now!" Paige unsnapped his holster guard and removed his service revolver. He held it at his side, pointed at the ground.
Kresge lay down on the ground. He wished that another car would pass by to witness this absurdity. But none did. "Call for backup! I want witnesses!"
"I'm the one giving the orders." Paige leaned into the car with his flashlight.
"If you try to plant any shit on me, I'll sue your ass!"
"That's just the kind of threat I'd expect from a tassel-loafered shyster like you. Put your hands behind your back!" He reached down and cuffed him. Then he frisked him as he lay on the ground. "I'm taking you in for a breathalizer."
Harry twisted his head around so he could see the cop standing over him. "You can kiss my ass with your breathalizer!"
Paige reached down and jerked Harry to his feet by the hand cuffs. The pain was intense, but brief. Harry managed not to scream. "Anybody ever tell you how stupid you look in that hat?"
"You can bait me all you want, lawyer. The only marks I'm going to leave on you are where the hard bench in the holding cell leaves lines on your ass from having sat in jail all night." He keyed his radio. "This is Paige. I'm on Dayton-Serena Road about a mile west of the speedway. I'm holding a D.U.I. for transport."
"Ain't that a bitch..." Harry mumbled to the night.
Nothing Better To Do - a novel in stories - Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Kresge had just started on his second draft beer when Frankie and Snake tracked him down at the Blue Moon. Since Snake wasn't twenty-one and wasn't allowed to sit at the bar, they asked Harry to join them in a booth. They ordered another beer for Harry and cokes for themselves.
"I just picked up the car from the paint shop. I thought you'd like to take a ride." Frankie was gleeful. Snake was smirking like he'd just taken the pot at a high-stakes poker game.
"Did you guys have Cal install Snake's stereo like I suggested?"
"We sure did." Frankie said. Snake just kept smiling and shaking his head.
"I think I'll pass. You see any sign of Orel Paige?"
"It's just like you said. He's gonna shadow me everywhere I go, just waiting for me to fuck up. He's sitting out there in the parking lot right now. He had the paint shop staked out, before I got over there. That's why I'm celebrating with a coke instead of a beer. We'll sit in here for awhile, let him think I'm getting good and tanked. Then when we leave, he'll follow us down the road a bit and pull me over for a field test. Only I'm gonna blow nothing but a zero this time."
"I'd watch it, if I were you. He might not play it by the book."
"What can I do? If he's gonna fuck with me, he's gonna fuck with me..."
"True enough. With a little luck, he'll screw himself. What kind of paint job did you get?"
"I went for the original black, but this time with flames around the air scoop and coming out of the wheel wells."
"Ole Orel must like that. I bet he got a boner the moment she saw you pull it out of the shop."
The two waited about a half-hour before leaving. Frankie looked at his watch.
"That should do it. Thanks for everything, Harry." He shook his hand.
"Yeah, thanks, man." Fish grabbed his hand and shook it, too.
"Just remember, don't call me, if you get arrested."
It was gray and cold in the parking lot. A light drizzle slanted into their faces as the wind rattled what few leaves were left on the trees. Across the road from the Blue Moon Tavern was an abandoned gas station. The nose of Orel Paige's cruiser was just visible from in back of the peeling wood-frame building.
He followed them onto the by-pass and then off the exit for Fairgrounds Road. Frankie didn't really have any reason to go this way, except that he thought he'd inspire Officer Paige with the possibility of a little poetic justice. Sure enough, Paige turned on his flashing blue light and hit his siren one short blast in the exact spot where he had made his original arrest.
Frankie pulled the Camaro onto the grassy shoulder and watched in the rearview mirror as Paige got out of his car and adjusted his trooper-style hat, before coming over to his window.
"Is that beer I smell on your breath, Frankie?"
"No, sir."
"Hand me your license, registration and proof of insurance, and step out of the car."
After he administered the field test he leaned inside the car from the driver's side. Snake was playing the dashboard like a conga drum and chanting one of those derogatory chants the fans sing at baseball games when the home team is thumping the visitors.
"I'm going to have to ask you to step out of the car too, Snake," this in his most officious police tone of voice. "Both of you put your hands on the trunk and spread your legs." He frisked them, then instructed them to remain that way while he searched the car.
When he was done, he radioed the police station, "This is Officer Paige. I need backup out here by the Fairgrounds. I just apprehended two white males in the act of transporting crack cocaine." He held up a small plastic vial with a red cap, displaying it between his thumb and forefinger so Frankie could see it.
It was his turn to smile. "I'll take my car back, now."
***
Kresge was at home when he learned of the new arrest.
"This is a set-up, Harry!" Audrey Adderholdt screamed into the phone. "Frankie doesn't smoke crack! A little marijuana, some speed every now and then... That's it!"
"Of course it's a set-up. Even those two know better than to carry when they're being followed."
"What am I going to do?"
"Get a lawyer!"
"I got no money."
"Go down to the courthouse for the arraignment, tomorrow. Talk to the Public Defender. Tell him I'll be a witness, if he needs me. That's the best I can do."
Kresge had just started on his second draft beer when Frankie and Snake tracked him down at the Blue Moon. Since Snake wasn't twenty-one and wasn't allowed to sit at the bar, they asked Harry to join them in a booth. They ordered another beer for Harry and cokes for themselves.
"I just picked up the car from the paint shop. I thought you'd like to take a ride." Frankie was gleeful. Snake was smirking like he'd just taken the pot at a high-stakes poker game.
"Did you guys have Cal install Snake's stereo like I suggested?"
"We sure did." Frankie said. Snake just kept smiling and shaking his head.
"I think I'll pass. You see any sign of Orel Paige?"
"It's just like you said. He's gonna shadow me everywhere I go, just waiting for me to fuck up. He's sitting out there in the parking lot right now. He had the paint shop staked out, before I got over there. That's why I'm celebrating with a coke instead of a beer. We'll sit in here for awhile, let him think I'm getting good and tanked. Then when we leave, he'll follow us down the road a bit and pull me over for a field test. Only I'm gonna blow nothing but a zero this time."
"I'd watch it, if I were you. He might not play it by the book."
"What can I do? If he's gonna fuck with me, he's gonna fuck with me..."
"True enough. With a little luck, he'll screw himself. What kind of paint job did you get?"
"I went for the original black, but this time with flames around the air scoop and coming out of the wheel wells."
"Ole Orel must like that. I bet he got a boner the moment she saw you pull it out of the shop."
The two waited about a half-hour before leaving. Frankie looked at his watch.
"That should do it. Thanks for everything, Harry." He shook his hand.
"Yeah, thanks, man." Fish grabbed his hand and shook it, too.
"Just remember, don't call me, if you get arrested."
It was gray and cold in the parking lot. A light drizzle slanted into their faces as the wind rattled what few leaves were left on the trees. Across the road from the Blue Moon Tavern was an abandoned gas station. The nose of Orel Paige's cruiser was just visible from in back of the peeling wood-frame building.
He followed them onto the by-pass and then off the exit for Fairgrounds Road. Frankie didn't really have any reason to go this way, except that he thought he'd inspire Officer Paige with the possibility of a little poetic justice. Sure enough, Paige turned on his flashing blue light and hit his siren one short blast in the exact spot where he had made his original arrest.
Frankie pulled the Camaro onto the grassy shoulder and watched in the rearview mirror as Paige got out of his car and adjusted his trooper-style hat, before coming over to his window.
"Is that beer I smell on your breath, Frankie?"
"No, sir."
"Hand me your license, registration and proof of insurance, and step out of the car."
After he administered the field test he leaned inside the car from the driver's side. Snake was playing the dashboard like a conga drum and chanting one of those derogatory chants the fans sing at baseball games when the home team is thumping the visitors.
"I'm going to have to ask you to step out of the car too, Snake," this in his most officious police tone of voice. "Both of you put your hands on the trunk and spread your legs." He frisked them, then instructed them to remain that way while he searched the car.
When he was done, he radioed the police station, "This is Officer Paige. I need backup out here by the Fairgrounds. I just apprehended two white males in the act of transporting crack cocaine." He held up a small plastic vial with a red cap, displaying it between his thumb and forefinger so Frankie could see it.
It was his turn to smile. "I'll take my car back, now."
***
Kresge was at home when he learned of the new arrest.
"This is a set-up, Harry!" Audrey Adderholdt screamed into the phone. "Frankie doesn't smoke crack! A little marijuana, some speed every now and then... That's it!"
"Of course it's a set-up. Even those two know better than to carry when they're being followed."
"What am I going to do?"
"Get a lawyer!"
"I got no money."
"Go down to the courthouse for the arraignment, tomorrow. Talk to the Public Defender. Tell him I'll be a witness, if he needs me. That's the best I can do."
Nothing Better To Do - a novel in stories - Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
"Whatcha doin', Miss Hyacinth?" House's ballpoint was poised above his memo book, as if he were sure something momentous would be forthcoming.
The tiny mulatto woman had just dismounted and was walking her shiny bicycle. It was an old-fashioned Schwinn, complete with chrome fenders and fat whitewall tires. Hyacinth, herself, was decked out in white tennis shoes, bobby-sox, a long pink and white flare skirt and a powder blue sweater. Her silver hair was in a bun. She was eighty-one years old, or at least that's what she would admit to. She rode her bike about a mile from the home to Towne Square every day that the weather would allow.
"I'm ridin' my bike, you damn fool. Cain't you see that fer yerself? I heard you got smart all of a sudden... Heh!"
Before the sudden emergence of his intelligence, House of Pain had often spent his days sitting in front of Dot's Market, when the yellow jackets that liked the garbage cans right next to the bench weren't too bothersome, that is. Once he got smart, however, he had been too busy for such idleness. Now that Gar Findaly was letting him free-lance on his own time, he was taking advantage of a rare afternoon away from the linotype room to do some more investigative reporting.
"Do you ride your bike every day?" He was thinking about doing a human interest piece on this very visible figure about town. Folks didn't really know much about her.
"You know I do. You've been settin' out here enough times to know that without askin'!"
"Would you mind telling me your full name?" He was taking it all down.
"Hyacinth Haynes. Whatchoo doin', House. I heard you been workin' over to the paper. You ain't gonna write nuthin' 'bout me, are ya?" She engaged her kick-stand and sat on the bench next to House. She was just amused enough that someone would take interest in her, that she had decided to play along.
"Where'd you live when you were a young 'un?"
"Out by the town limits on Dayton-Serena Road. Course't didn't have a name back then. Folks just called it the road outta town headin' west or the road to Dayton. Wasn't but one in that direction in them days. My daddy had a house on five acres of land. We grew our own vegetables and raised some pigs and cows. That's how it was in the old days."
Her grandfather, an escaped slave from Alabama, had come to Serena along the underground railroad. He'd found work harvesting corn and decided to stay for planting season. He never did leave. Eventually, he'd married a Shawnee woman and they'd had eight children. Her father had been the youngest of the brood and had benefited from the labors of his older brothers and sisters. He was the only one to graduate from high school. He worked in the hardware store, eventually bought his own truck and had a hauling business on the side. In this way, he was able to save enough money to buy the land on the edge of town, where, with the help of his brothers, he built the house where Hyacinth was born.
Hyacinth's mother was a white woman. She had been widowed during the First World War and was raising two girls on her own. She married Hyacinth's father and they had but one child, another girl. Hyacinth was pampered and treated like a little doll by her mother and her half-sisters, thus the habitual finery. Hyacinth never married. She had been engaged to a handsome white man, a descendant of the owner of the hardware store, but he was lost in the Second World War. From the moment she learned of his death, it was as if she had been frozen in time.
House pulled all of this out of her and much more. He took it all down, careful not to leave out one detail. When he got done writing the piece, it would end up being the saga of the family of a runaway slave, with all the drama of the escape and flight, the romance of meeting and settling down with the Indian woman, the inspiration of the fortitude and hard work to overcome poverty and prejudice, and then the same for the next generation and the one after that.
Two-and-a-half hours passed on the bench in front of Dot's. When they were finished, Hyacinth was exhausted and House's memo book was filled.
"I gots to take me a nap," Hyacinth told him, as she mounted her Schwinn and headed across the parking lot back in the direction of the Golden Age Home.
House sat for awhile, reviewing his notes. After a few minutes, George Sturges came out of the market with a half-gallon of strawberry ice cream and a plastic spoon. He joined House on the bench.
"What you doin', George?"
"What's it look like I'm doin', House? I'm about to eat this half-gallon of strawberry ice cream, same as I do every day. You got a problem with that?"
"You gonna be here for awhile?"
"You've watched me enough times to know how long it takes me."
"Don't let the bees chase you away or nothing like that. I'll be right back." House got up and hurried inside Dot's to buy another memo pad as if he were afraid a good story might get away from him.
"Whatcha doin', Miss Hyacinth?" House's ballpoint was poised above his memo book, as if he were sure something momentous would be forthcoming.
The tiny mulatto woman had just dismounted and was walking her shiny bicycle. It was an old-fashioned Schwinn, complete with chrome fenders and fat whitewall tires. Hyacinth, herself, was decked out in white tennis shoes, bobby-sox, a long pink and white flare skirt and a powder blue sweater. Her silver hair was in a bun. She was eighty-one years old, or at least that's what she would admit to. She rode her bike about a mile from the home to Towne Square every day that the weather would allow.
"I'm ridin' my bike, you damn fool. Cain't you see that fer yerself? I heard you got smart all of a sudden... Heh!"
Before the sudden emergence of his intelligence, House of Pain had often spent his days sitting in front of Dot's Market, when the yellow jackets that liked the garbage cans right next to the bench weren't too bothersome, that is. Once he got smart, however, he had been too busy for such idleness. Now that Gar Findaly was letting him free-lance on his own time, he was taking advantage of a rare afternoon away from the linotype room to do some more investigative reporting.
"Do you ride your bike every day?" He was thinking about doing a human interest piece on this very visible figure about town. Folks didn't really know much about her.
"You know I do. You've been settin' out here enough times to know that without askin'!"
"Would you mind telling me your full name?" He was taking it all down.
"Hyacinth Haynes. Whatchoo doin', House. I heard you been workin' over to the paper. You ain't gonna write nuthin' 'bout me, are ya?" She engaged her kick-stand and sat on the bench next to House. She was just amused enough that someone would take interest in her, that she had decided to play along.
"Where'd you live when you were a young 'un?"
"Out by the town limits on Dayton-Serena Road. Course't didn't have a name back then. Folks just called it the road outta town headin' west or the road to Dayton. Wasn't but one in that direction in them days. My daddy had a house on five acres of land. We grew our own vegetables and raised some pigs and cows. That's how it was in the old days."
Her grandfather, an escaped slave from Alabama, had come to Serena along the underground railroad. He'd found work harvesting corn and decided to stay for planting season. He never did leave. Eventually, he'd married a Shawnee woman and they'd had eight children. Her father had been the youngest of the brood and had benefited from the labors of his older brothers and sisters. He was the only one to graduate from high school. He worked in the hardware store, eventually bought his own truck and had a hauling business on the side. In this way, he was able to save enough money to buy the land on the edge of town, where, with the help of his brothers, he built the house where Hyacinth was born.
Hyacinth's mother was a white woman. She had been widowed during the First World War and was raising two girls on her own. She married Hyacinth's father and they had but one child, another girl. Hyacinth was pampered and treated like a little doll by her mother and her half-sisters, thus the habitual finery. Hyacinth never married. She had been engaged to a handsome white man, a descendant of the owner of the hardware store, but he was lost in the Second World War. From the moment she learned of his death, it was as if she had been frozen in time.
House pulled all of this out of her and much more. He took it all down, careful not to leave out one detail. When he got done writing the piece, it would end up being the saga of the family of a runaway slave, with all the drama of the escape and flight, the romance of meeting and settling down with the Indian woman, the inspiration of the fortitude and hard work to overcome poverty and prejudice, and then the same for the next generation and the one after that.
Two-and-a-half hours passed on the bench in front of Dot's. When they were finished, Hyacinth was exhausted and House's memo book was filled.
"I gots to take me a nap," Hyacinth told him, as she mounted her Schwinn and headed across the parking lot back in the direction of the Golden Age Home.
House sat for awhile, reviewing his notes. After a few minutes, George Sturges came out of the market with a half-gallon of strawberry ice cream and a plastic spoon. He joined House on the bench.
"What you doin', George?"
"What's it look like I'm doin', House? I'm about to eat this half-gallon of strawberry ice cream, same as I do every day. You got a problem with that?"
"You gonna be here for awhile?"
"You've watched me enough times to know how long it takes me."
"Don't let the bees chase you away or nothing like that. I'll be right back." House got up and hurried inside Dot's to buy another memo pad as if he were afraid a good story might get away from him.
Nothing Better To Do - a novel in stories - Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
House was alone in his room. He took the letter from his pocket. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he read it again:
To The Editor:
I am writing to protest the reduction of Police staff assigned to patrolling the internet. From what I understand, the number of officers has been reduced from four to just one. That one officer is only at it eight hours per day, therefore there is no longer around the clock coverage, and no double coverage during those important hours immediately after the children come home from school. Furthermore, I understand that the officer who was responsible for the arrest of that child molester from Toledo has been assigned to a regular patrol.
As a Girl Scout Leader, I have recently witnessed what I maintain is the ultimate outcome of the proliferation of kiddie-porn. This past weekend, our troop was holding it's annual Halloween camp-out at the Fairgrounds, when the Scout Leaders' nightmare to end all nightmares happened. The girls were sitting around the campfire telling ghost stories. The adults on the trip had gone inside the mess tent for a cup of coffee. Suddenly, the girls started screaming. I realized, right away, that it was more than what one might expect from the scary tales. I ran outside just in time to see a tall man in a raincoat with some kind of jack-o-lantern mask covering his face. He was holding his coat open to expose his genitals. Now here's the really sick part, (I'll use a seasonal analogy here in order not to be too graphic.) his gourds were painted orange and his stem was painted green.
When he saw me, he quickly closed his coat and ran off into the woods. It is clear that it was the girls who were the target of his sick behavior. Of course, we called the police, but he was gone without a trace by the time they responded.
This is the kind of thing that happens when people are free to do whatever they want to do over the internet. If we had more people like Officer Orel Paige out there to put kibosh on this kind of sick behavior in cyberspace, then the sickos wouldn't be so emboldened as to try it in the real world. When I was a Girl Scout, we didn't have an internet and not once did we encounter degenerate behavior of this sort on any of our camping trips.
Very truly yours,
Louise Mays - Leader of Troop 103
***
House knew Mrs. Mays. He'd had a crush on her his second time through third grade. He had been eleven when she was eight. She had been Weezie Bradstone, back then. He never spoke to her because everyone thought he was just a big dummy. But he knew where she lived because he had followed her home from school one day. It wasn't far from his own house, so he often went there and watched the house in the afternoons to see if he could catch sight of her playing in the yard. When she married, she and her husband moved in with her mother. When her mother died, they continued to live in the same house. As far as he knew, they still lived there. House had it in his mind to finally talk to her. Now that he was a sort of unofficial reporter for the Banner, he had a few questions he wanted to ask her.
A girl opened the door in response to his knock. She looked like she was about twelve years old and, from the resemblance to Louise, she must have been the daughter.
"Hi, I'm Marvin Payne from the Banner. Is your mother home?"
"She's not here right now. Is this about the letter?" She smiled as if she thought she were about to become famous.
"My editor sent me over to follow up on it." House didn't really consider this to be a lie. It was merely a professional untruth, like the times he would call Gar Findaly to ask him when he was going to be officially promoted to reporter and his secretary would tell him he wasn't there.
"She didn't really see much, but I was there."
"Well, what did you see? Do you think you could recognize the man if you saw him again?"
"Not really. It was dark outside the circle of the fire. I could see that he was tall and wearing an pumpkin head mask and a rain coat. When he opened the coat, it was really too dark to see anything."
"Well, where did all that stuff about his... er... things being painted green and orange come from?"
"Oh, that was Sarah Johns. She said that was what she saw."
"Did any of the other girls see that?"
"No, I don't think so. Nobody saw much, but Sarah."
"Do you know where she lives?"
"Uh huh. She lives over on Second Street in a big ole house with her aunt and uncle, the Paiges. I don't know the number, but you can look it up, or else you can wait for my mamma to come home."
"Thanks. That's okay. I'll find it."
***
Sarah Johns moved in with her mother's sister when she was ten years old. She and her mother had been abandoned by her father when she was eight. After that, her mother had taken to hanging out in bars and leaving the child home alone. Neighbors reported it to the police and there was a hearing where it was determined that she was not a fit mother. The family had been notified and close relatives were invited to file petitions for custody. As the Paiges hadn't been able to have children, they were particularly interested in taking the girl. Orel Paige was a Police Officer and his wife, Lucy, worked in the Mayor's Office; they seemed to be the best qualified.
Some time after Sarah turned eleven, she began to sprout firm little mounds with Hershey's Kisses nipples that, like crocuses in spring, seemed to want to poke through every thing she wore. It seemed to her that her uncle had taken particular notice. She often caught him looking at her, he suddenly seemed more affectionate, and he used any excuse he could think of to put his hands on her. Having been starved for fatherly attention, she didn't mind any of this. Actually, she liked it and encouraged it by flirting. It was around this time that Orel Paige was assigned to patrol the internet. Some say he asked for it, that he actually created the job, as it hadn't existed before.
Often, when Paige would come home from work, he would continue his investigations on his home computer. He would work late into the night, hanging out in chat rooms, following hyperlinks to the kind of web sites where he could expect to find pictures. When he found photographs, he would download them onto his hard drive. When the girl would come home from school, she would go on the computer and find the pictures.
By the time she was twelve, she looked all of fifteen. The pictures her uncle was downloading aroused her curiosity. After school, she would go on line and follow the links in her uncle's bookmarks, to the chat rooms and kiddie-porn sites he was investigating. But it wasn't enough.
Early one Saturday morning, as she was passing her aunt and uncle's bedroom, she heard some noises. The door was opened a crack, so she peered in. Later in the day, when her aunt had gone out, she told her uncle, "You should close your door more tightly. As I was going by, this morning, I saw you and my aunt having sex."
"You did? How much did you see?"
"I saw everything from beginning to end." She was smiling.
"Why did you watch for so long?"
"I don't know. I guess I thought it was interesting. Lots of times, I've hidden around the house, under the bed, in the closet, and watched you naked. Lots of times I've caught you playing with your thingie and you didn't even know it."
Later, Paige would confess to the girl that the prospect of her watching had aroused him. The next time he made love to his wife, he had purposely left the door open a crack and all the while they were having sex, he intentionally imagined that she was watching. He told her that he had never come so hard as he did that time, that his wife had even remarked on the vigorousness of his love making.
It wasn't long before he was exposing himself to her. He would often try to get her to play with him, but she refused, so he took to masturbating in front of her while she was watching television or working on the computer. He must have been confused by her hot and cold behavior. One time, when he was wearing just boxers, he was standing on a chair reaching for something on a high shelf in the kitchen, she snuck up behind him and pulled his shorts down around his ankles. Laughing, he pulled his shorts up again and chased after her. She turned and playfully grabbed him by the genitals, then ran to her room, where she locked herself in.
One of the things he did to try to arouse her interest was to show her the pictures he had downloaded from the internet. He didn't know it, but she was already bored with those same pictures.
Apparently, he continued to try everything he could think of to get her to play with him, but it was still no go. Finally, just before Halloween, she was painting decorations on her face in preparation for the annual Girl Scout camp-out. Instead of uniforms, the girls were supposed to wear costumes. Later they would sit around the campfire and tell spooky stories. As she sat on the living room sofa, painting her face orange and green with the aid of a hand held mirror, Paige whipped it out and started playing with himself. It must have been then that he got the idea. He convinced her to paint his balls orange and his dick green. As she was painting on the finishing touches of green with the small camel's hair brush, he ejaculated all over her costume.
That night when her uncle exposed himself to the Girl Scout Troop at the fairgrounds, Sarah hadn't actually been able to see the decorated genitalia. She recognized her uncle from his bearing and his coat and the mask he had bought in K Mart, and she just assumed that she had seen the orange testicles and the green penis she told the others about. She was no longer curious about sex, at least as far as he was concerned. And his advances were getting more aggressive. They were starting to worry her. And she was really pissed about having had to change her costume at the last minute after he messed all over her. She was beginning to hope that he would get caught.
All this was related by the girl in a deadpan monotone on the tape House was playing in Gar Findaly's office.
"This is really something..." Gar was shaking his head. "But damn... It's her word against his."
"She says he took pictures with his digital camera."
"Can she get a copy?"
"She says she's going to look for them on his computer, but it's going to take awhile. He's got lots of disks full of stuff."
"I'm not sure what we've got here and I'm doubly unsure what to do with it," Gar Findaly said as he locked the tape into the small safe in his office. "I think we'll have to sit on it for awhile. I know one thing for sure though, that was a damn fine piece of investigation, House. For now, I'll have to ask you to keep it under your hat. I've got a feeling there's going to be a right time to release this, and I think it's going to be soon. Just call it my newspaper man's instinct."
As House was leaving the Editor's Office, Gar's secretary buzzed in on the intercom, "It's the Chief of Police."
"Tell him I'll get back to him," Gar instructed her.
"He says you still haven't gotten back to him from the last time."
"Tell him I'll see him at the poker game, tonight. I'm too busy right now." He waved to House as he went out the door, then thought better of it and waived him back in. "Be sure and let me know right away, if that girl calls to tell you she found the pictures," he told him.
House nodded and went out the door.
House was alone in his room. He took the letter from his pocket. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he read it again:
To The Editor:
I am writing to protest the reduction of Police staff assigned to patrolling the internet. From what I understand, the number of officers has been reduced from four to just one. That one officer is only at it eight hours per day, therefore there is no longer around the clock coverage, and no double coverage during those important hours immediately after the children come home from school. Furthermore, I understand that the officer who was responsible for the arrest of that child molester from Toledo has been assigned to a regular patrol.
As a Girl Scout Leader, I have recently witnessed what I maintain is the ultimate outcome of the proliferation of kiddie-porn. This past weekend, our troop was holding it's annual Halloween camp-out at the Fairgrounds, when the Scout Leaders' nightmare to end all nightmares happened. The girls were sitting around the campfire telling ghost stories. The adults on the trip had gone inside the mess tent for a cup of coffee. Suddenly, the girls started screaming. I realized, right away, that it was more than what one might expect from the scary tales. I ran outside just in time to see a tall man in a raincoat with some kind of jack-o-lantern mask covering his face. He was holding his coat open to expose his genitals. Now here's the really sick part, (I'll use a seasonal analogy here in order not to be too graphic.) his gourds were painted orange and his stem was painted green.
When he saw me, he quickly closed his coat and ran off into the woods. It is clear that it was the girls who were the target of his sick behavior. Of course, we called the police, but he was gone without a trace by the time they responded.
This is the kind of thing that happens when people are free to do whatever they want to do over the internet. If we had more people like Officer Orel Paige out there to put kibosh on this kind of sick behavior in cyberspace, then the sickos wouldn't be so emboldened as to try it in the real world. When I was a Girl Scout, we didn't have an internet and not once did we encounter degenerate behavior of this sort on any of our camping trips.
Very truly yours,
Louise Mays - Leader of Troop 103
***
House knew Mrs. Mays. He'd had a crush on her his second time through third grade. He had been eleven when she was eight. She had been Weezie Bradstone, back then. He never spoke to her because everyone thought he was just a big dummy. But he knew where she lived because he had followed her home from school one day. It wasn't far from his own house, so he often went there and watched the house in the afternoons to see if he could catch sight of her playing in the yard. When she married, she and her husband moved in with her mother. When her mother died, they continued to live in the same house. As far as he knew, they still lived there. House had it in his mind to finally talk to her. Now that he was a sort of unofficial reporter for the Banner, he had a few questions he wanted to ask her.
A girl opened the door in response to his knock. She looked like she was about twelve years old and, from the resemblance to Louise, she must have been the daughter.
"Hi, I'm Marvin Payne from the Banner. Is your mother home?"
"She's not here right now. Is this about the letter?" She smiled as if she thought she were about to become famous.
"My editor sent me over to follow up on it." House didn't really consider this to be a lie. It was merely a professional untruth, like the times he would call Gar Findaly to ask him when he was going to be officially promoted to reporter and his secretary would tell him he wasn't there.
"She didn't really see much, but I was there."
"Well, what did you see? Do you think you could recognize the man if you saw him again?"
"Not really. It was dark outside the circle of the fire. I could see that he was tall and wearing an pumpkin head mask and a rain coat. When he opened the coat, it was really too dark to see anything."
"Well, where did all that stuff about his... er... things being painted green and orange come from?"
"Oh, that was Sarah Johns. She said that was what she saw."
"Did any of the other girls see that?"
"No, I don't think so. Nobody saw much, but Sarah."
"Do you know where she lives?"
"Uh huh. She lives over on Second Street in a big ole house with her aunt and uncle, the Paiges. I don't know the number, but you can look it up, or else you can wait for my mamma to come home."
"Thanks. That's okay. I'll find it."
***
Sarah Johns moved in with her mother's sister when she was ten years old. She and her mother had been abandoned by her father when she was eight. After that, her mother had taken to hanging out in bars and leaving the child home alone. Neighbors reported it to the police and there was a hearing where it was determined that she was not a fit mother. The family had been notified and close relatives were invited to file petitions for custody. As the Paiges hadn't been able to have children, they were particularly interested in taking the girl. Orel Paige was a Police Officer and his wife, Lucy, worked in the Mayor's Office; they seemed to be the best qualified.
Some time after Sarah turned eleven, she began to sprout firm little mounds with Hershey's Kisses nipples that, like crocuses in spring, seemed to want to poke through every thing she wore. It seemed to her that her uncle had taken particular notice. She often caught him looking at her, he suddenly seemed more affectionate, and he used any excuse he could think of to put his hands on her. Having been starved for fatherly attention, she didn't mind any of this. Actually, she liked it and encouraged it by flirting. It was around this time that Orel Paige was assigned to patrol the internet. Some say he asked for it, that he actually created the job, as it hadn't existed before.
Often, when Paige would come home from work, he would continue his investigations on his home computer. He would work late into the night, hanging out in chat rooms, following hyperlinks to the kind of web sites where he could expect to find pictures. When he found photographs, he would download them onto his hard drive. When the girl would come home from school, she would go on the computer and find the pictures.
By the time she was twelve, she looked all of fifteen. The pictures her uncle was downloading aroused her curiosity. After school, she would go on line and follow the links in her uncle's bookmarks, to the chat rooms and kiddie-porn sites he was investigating. But it wasn't enough.
Early one Saturday morning, as she was passing her aunt and uncle's bedroom, she heard some noises. The door was opened a crack, so she peered in. Later in the day, when her aunt had gone out, she told her uncle, "You should close your door more tightly. As I was going by, this morning, I saw you and my aunt having sex."
"You did? How much did you see?"
"I saw everything from beginning to end." She was smiling.
"Why did you watch for so long?"
"I don't know. I guess I thought it was interesting. Lots of times, I've hidden around the house, under the bed, in the closet, and watched you naked. Lots of times I've caught you playing with your thingie and you didn't even know it."
Later, Paige would confess to the girl that the prospect of her watching had aroused him. The next time he made love to his wife, he had purposely left the door open a crack and all the while they were having sex, he intentionally imagined that she was watching. He told her that he had never come so hard as he did that time, that his wife had even remarked on the vigorousness of his love making.
It wasn't long before he was exposing himself to her. He would often try to get her to play with him, but she refused, so he took to masturbating in front of her while she was watching television or working on the computer. He must have been confused by her hot and cold behavior. One time, when he was wearing just boxers, he was standing on a chair reaching for something on a high shelf in the kitchen, she snuck up behind him and pulled his shorts down around his ankles. Laughing, he pulled his shorts up again and chased after her. She turned and playfully grabbed him by the genitals, then ran to her room, where she locked herself in.
One of the things he did to try to arouse her interest was to show her the pictures he had downloaded from the internet. He didn't know it, but she was already bored with those same pictures.
Apparently, he continued to try everything he could think of to get her to play with him, but it was still no go. Finally, just before Halloween, she was painting decorations on her face in preparation for the annual Girl Scout camp-out. Instead of uniforms, the girls were supposed to wear costumes. Later they would sit around the campfire and tell spooky stories. As she sat on the living room sofa, painting her face orange and green with the aid of a hand held mirror, Paige whipped it out and started playing with himself. It must have been then that he got the idea. He convinced her to paint his balls orange and his dick green. As she was painting on the finishing touches of green with the small camel's hair brush, he ejaculated all over her costume.
That night when her uncle exposed himself to the Girl Scout Troop at the fairgrounds, Sarah hadn't actually been able to see the decorated genitalia. She recognized her uncle from his bearing and his coat and the mask he had bought in K Mart, and she just assumed that she had seen the orange testicles and the green penis she told the others about. She was no longer curious about sex, at least as far as he was concerned. And his advances were getting more aggressive. They were starting to worry her. And she was really pissed about having had to change her costume at the last minute after he messed all over her. She was beginning to hope that he would get caught.
All this was related by the girl in a deadpan monotone on the tape House was playing in Gar Findaly's office.
"This is really something..." Gar was shaking his head. "But damn... It's her word against his."
"She says he took pictures with his digital camera."
"Can she get a copy?"
"She says she's going to look for them on his computer, but it's going to take awhile. He's got lots of disks full of stuff."
"I'm not sure what we've got here and I'm doubly unsure what to do with it," Gar Findaly said as he locked the tape into the small safe in his office. "I think we'll have to sit on it for awhile. I know one thing for sure though, that was a damn fine piece of investigation, House. For now, I'll have to ask you to keep it under your hat. I've got a feeling there's going to be a right time to release this, and I think it's going to be soon. Just call it my newspaper man's instinct."
As House was leaving the Editor's Office, Gar's secretary buzzed in on the intercom, "It's the Chief of Police."
"Tell him I'll get back to him," Gar instructed her.
"He says you still haven't gotten back to him from the last time."
"Tell him I'll see him at the poker game, tonight. I'm too busy right now." He waved to House as he went out the door, then thought better of it and waived him back in. "Be sure and let me know right away, if that girl calls to tell you she found the pictures," he told him.
House nodded and went out the door.
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