Finding 52 (3 page)

“Sure,” Frank replied.

Buck Seals and Brer Reg

1975

K
yle Trapp and Walt Chapman had a few things in common. They were both full of themselves and insisted others show a great deal of admiration to them. They had, after all, achieved command officer status: one was a Sergeant while the other a Lieutenant. They both hated the Regulators, especially Reg, who had a target on his back. None of this was new to Kyle and Walt…before Reg they’d hated Frank. They were not of the multi-tasking persuasion; both could only focus on one at a time.

Kyle Trapp was a colossal pain in the ass. Reg could not abide him and his useless ways. He was a braggart with a huge ego and feckless to boot. Trapp had recently been promoted to sergeant during a time when others didn’t care enough to even try to get promoted. Most of the decent cops in patrol loved what they were doing and saw no reason to change a thing. Trapp had a poor reputation when it came to the way he had handled calls as a patrolman. He was considered a chickenshit by many and someone who would make himself look good on arrest reports.

There had been several corroborated sightings of Trapp backing down on fight calls and he was never the first to arrive on any call that might be remotely dangerous. Trapp had spent more time in the station kissing the Chief’s ass, and anyone else above the rank of sergeant, than he spent on the road. He was the last one to roll call every day and the first one to shoot off his big mouth. The officers that took their calls and finished their assigned tasks deemed Kyle Trapp a pariah. Reg shared that sentiment, and also thought the only way you could tell Trapp was lying was to see if his lips were moving.

Walt called Kyle into his office. He loved being summoned by the Lieutenant. One day-and hopefully soon-Kyle hoped to be a lieutenant. He knew the other sergeants detested him as much as the patrolmen did; in fact nearly everyone shunned him. He was hopeful the Lieutenant wanted to see him about messing with someone…anyone. Walt did not disappoint.

“Sergeant, I need your assistance with a delicate situation.”

“You can count on me. Whatcha got?”

“Buck Seals is holed up at his house and has been for weeks. His entire family is scared to death of him and afraid to even knock on the door. His brother told me that Buck has plenty of weaponry inside and just might be over the edge this time. He wants the police to check on him.”

“You try calling Buck?”

“Why should I call him when we can send Officer Thorne?”

“I like it. I like it a lot,” Kyle said.

Everyone on the police department, including clerical staff, knew the threat Buck Seals posed to himself as well as the entire community. Hell, even the janitor knew that much. The latest complaint by family was nothing new. A couple of years earlier, Buck took his own mother hostage and tied her to a chair. The state police SWAT team even responded to that one. Buck gave himself up and let his mother go after he gave her a “hot foot.” Actually he gave her two hot feet by tying her ankles together and then stuck wooden matches between all of her toes and secured both of her feet by wrapping them with oily rags. He lit the eight matches between her ten toes and even offered to blow them out if she sang happy birthday to him…something she declined doing.

After lighting the matches he went to the door, shouting at the Swat Team and calling them names before inviting them in to untie his ma from the chair. His mother was taken to the hospital for severe burns to her toes. For Buck’s part, he was placed in a mental health unit for forty-eight hours until the shrinks could examine him. Two days later he was a free man once again while his mother limped to the police station demanding they do something about Buck.

“I want you and Reg to go to Seal’s place in one car. Try to remember that you’re the one in charge so you should drive. Don’t let Reg turn the tables on you. Sometimes he can be clever. Dumb but clever, I think.”

“I’m wise to the ways of bad cops like Reg,” Kyle said.

“Anyway, this next part should be easy for you. Make him go to the front door by himself to check on Buck. You with me so far?”

“You bet!” The thought of possible gun play didn’t sit well with Kyle, something Walt and everyone else discerned. “I’ll stay well behind…in the car where I can make sure he doesn’t pull any funny stuff. He darn well better knock on that front door all by himself, right?”

Walt sighed. “Looks like you have the general idea. Do not deviate from the plan no matter what.”

“You can count on me, Lieutenant.”

Reg and Kyle drove to Buck Seal’s house on Summer Street, and Kyle was behind the wheel according to plan.

“So what’s up at Buck’s place? We gonna ask him if he felt bad about giving his mother that hot foot?” Reg asked.

“Shut up and pay attention. I’m in charge of this detail. Remember these?” Trapp pointed at his sergeant stripes.

“Oh boy, do I ever.”

“Good. Buck’s holed up inside his house. His brother told Lieutenant Chapman he’s probably got weapons.”

“Wow! Sounds like serious shit to me: a lieutenant and a sergeant, running point on this caper.”

“I’m in charge of this caper!”

“Does the Lieutenant know you’re in charge? I mean if he’s a lieutenant? Doesn’t that, like, trump your status of entry level mediocrity?”

“No tricks! No bullshit! I’m the sergeant and you better do what you’re told.”

“Well, I surely will. I still remember those stripes. I’m doing great so far, right?”

“And you damn well better remember I’m calling the shots on this assignment. You got it?”

“Yep, unless the Lieutenant drives all the way to Buck’s house to see how we’re doing. If that happens? Won’t he be in charge?”

“Shut the fuck up!” Kyle was experiencing the onset of one mad bastard of a headache and it was all Reg’s fault.

They were parked across the street and several houses away from Buck’s dilapidated house. Decay was everywhere. There were no front windows, only boards. Buck Seals was ready for all manner of calamity, including hurricanes, tornadoes, and race riots. A yellow sign was on one side of the front door. It promised the visitor that the occupant didn’t call 911 and that promise was reinforced by a large hand holding a revolver. The guest would even be able to see bullets in the cylinder of the gun if he or she were foolish enough to stand on the front steps.

Another sign was even more proactive. The words were timeless: “Smile, You Are Being Videotaped.” There was a picture of a happy face with surveillance cameras for eyes just to let the mailman and others know that Buck wasn’t kidding around. Above the sign was an electric hair blower mounted on the edge of the roof pointing down at potential visitors. It was connected with a plastic clothesline that went all the way to a tree near the corner of the house. The other end of the plastic clothesline was tied around a curling iron that was nailed to a large tree branch. Several clothespins were still hanging from the clothesline.

The back door was boarded up as well as all side and back windows. The exterior was insulbrick and sheets of paneling had thick nails pounded through and then turned over and affixed to a roof that was over a half century old. The sharp, pointed nails served as Buck’s only real exterior defense system, however, even the squirrels knew enough not to walk on that roof. The only way in and out of his house was the front door, and Buck aimed to record anyone foolish enough to try.

“The plan?”

“You need to walk up to that front door and knock real polite. Ask Buck if he’s feeling alright. Tell him how his family’s worried.”

“You coming with me? We usually do this kind of stuff in twos. Not that you ever handled these sorts of complaints.”

“Nah. I’m good. I think I’ll just stay by the car and watch your back.”

“You can’t even see the front porch from here. You know that, right? You should walk me part of the way. Stand behind a tree or something. It’ll be fun.”

“Nah. I’m still good.” Kyle was smiling.

“Maybe we could get a pizza or something and I could carry it to the door with a fancy borrowed delivery hat. Get the lay of the land and fake Buck out if he answers the door. I might maybe get the jump on him and challenge him to an Indian leg wrestling contest. You could tell Chapman how you thought the whole thing up by yourself.”

It sounded like a pretty good idea to Kyle. He could get credit for thinking on his feet and the other sergeants might even like him better. Maybe even the Chief. Then he remembered how the Lieutenant warned him about how Reg might try to trick him. Kyle was confused. What to do?

“I can tell you like my plan. I might even give you a slice of pizza before I deliver it to Buck. No olives, right?”

Kyle was at a professional crossroads. On one hand he liked the idea of taking credit for Reg coaxing Buck out of the house and delivering him to his brother all safe and sound. The images Reg placed in his head with a free piece of pizza were a bonus. Kyle loved pizza. What to do?

“I might even get them to throw in a free can of soda. Nothing like a free slice of pizza and a can of soda. You could even take a walk on the wild side and drink something with caffeine in it.”

Kyle came to his good senses. He was almost lured into Reg’s game plan of broken promises and human fuckery. He’d been warned by Walt and gosh darn it, Reg nearly had him. It was close, but Kyle was back on his A-Game.

“We don’t have time for that. Just do as you were told. Go up to the house and knock on the front door. Make sure Buck is alright and tell him to call his brother. Just holler if you need help.”

“Well, I don’t guess anyone can shout loud enough to be heard from that far away. You’re probably right. Just sit tight where it’s nice and safe. If I really need you, I’ll fire a couple of warning shots. Sound good?”

“You should only fire your weapon if the situation is dire, which is a fancy word to describe kill or be killed, understand?”

“You bet slugger. Just remember; no pizza for you,” Reg said.

Reg turned his portable radio down low and began his approach to Buck’s insane compound and all its maligned gadgets. A couple of small children were playing across the street and Reg told them to go inside their house and stay away from the windows.

He cautiously walked up the steps and was astonished that all the rumors of Buck’s home defense system were true. The signs and hair blower were there as assumed. So were the plastic clothesline, curling iron, and sharp nails on the roof. Reg felt some disappointment that there were only four clothespins on the line. He’d figured there would have been at least a couple of dozen.

Reg knew this was a real shit detail but there was payment. A confirmed sighting on something new. Another Buck Seals line of defense. The front porch displayed a wide array of thumbtacks lying on moldy, dry-rotted boards and there were several heavy duty mousetraps, minus the cheese, all cocked and ready to go.
Lucky for me I’m wearing shoes
, he thought.

He knocked on the door and it opened a little. The door hadn’t even been shut properly and Reg looked at the outside handle and noticed that bits of razor blades had been superglued to the doorknob. He realized Buck wasn’t dinking around; he was in it for the long haul. He was seriously nuttier than people knew. The pieces of razor blades were the clincher; something like that had to have taken an hour or so. The seriously irrational ones had a strong sense of work ethic. Reg was actually pleased to be on the porch and couldn’t wait to chat Buck up.

Reg pushed the door open a little more and was surprised to see lights on in other rooms. At least the power company had the good sense not to send their employees by to shut the power off at this madman’s house. Reg stepped inside after turning his portable radio all the way down. He didn’t want to set Buck off with the sounds of radio cop talk.

The house was surprisingly clean and updated on the inside. He’d been in other homes just like this one—houses that looked like they were falling down on the outside and nice on the inside. Property taxes on such places were dirt cheap. Maybe Buck wasn’t as crazy as everyone thought.

“Mr. Seals? Is everything all right? I got a call that your door was wide open and I just wanted to be sure you’re okay.”

There was no answer and Reg heard it for the first time: complete silence. He walked into the living room, which was open to the dining room but nothing else. There was light coming from the right of the dining room, and Reg figured it probably led to a kitchen or hallway.

“You there Mr. Seals?” No answer. Reg thought the house was eerily silent. He had a feeling things had gone bad or soon would. When things like that happened, he had an entire repertoire of ways to lighten the moment. Moreover, it helped when dealing with the crazies. When Reg did outlandish stuff the wackier ones took notice. Perhaps they thought he was a kindred spirit. For fun…he slipped into Uncle Remus and days gone by. It simply seemed like the thing to do.

“Nice wedder dis dey,” Reg said. More silence.

“Is you deaf? Kaze if you is, I kin holler louder. You er stuck up, dat’s w’at you is,” Reg said in perfect Brer Rabbit speak. There was still no answer.

He went into the hallway and had two choices: right or left. He went right and it led toward a bathroom and further down the hall was a bedroom. Both were empty. He turned around and followed the hall until it led to a kitchen.

“Spozen I runs up on you, Brer Buck, w’at you gwinter do? Brer Reg ain’t see no peace w’atsumever since de bad po-leezmun starded fussin about yer brudder. Ef you don’t tell me howdy like spectubble folks do I might go prancin, lippity-clippity down dat street. Yer brudder will be waiten fer me and he gree’ble to burning dis here howz down.”

More silence. Reg checked the empty kitchen and was at a back stairway that led upstairs. He slowly walked up the steps and found himself in a large room. To the right was a doorway that led to another bathroom. He slowly walked into the room and saw the bathtub full of water, blood, and Buck. Both wrists had been cut properly—long-ways and plenty deep enough. The razor was lying on the floor near the tub. Buck had finally found his peace.