Saving Room for Dessert (36 page)

“What are you talking about?”

“Anna Mae, you’re the perfect example of the ideologues who never let facts get in the way of their propaganda. Don’t you
know that the city of Rocksburg has no crime scene investigators?”

“What do you mean?”

“It doesn’t, Anna Mae. There are only two crime scene investigating teams in this area. One of them is based at Troop A Barracks
of the state police and the other—ta-ta! It’s based in my office. And do you wanna venture a guess which of those teams did
the forensics on this shooting?”

It took a long moment for the implication of what Failan said to sink in. “You are insufferable, Howard. You are despicable.”

“Oh I’m probably a lot worse than that, Anna Mae. ’Cause even though nobody made any promise to you that my guys would do
any of the work, you got my guys anyway. ’Cause the city detective—and his name’s Carlucci by the way, not Carlotti—as soon
as he finished doing what he could do, he immediately called my guys.”

Mrs. Remaley’s face was pinched with anger. “You knew this and you just let me go ahead anyway?”

“Oh no, Anna Mae, this isn’t mine, this is all yours. That forensics report, my guys not only signed it, they typed their
names and identified themselves just as fully as they have to do every time they submit a report, no matter which department
requests their services. I knew you wouldn’t bother to read those names. You have no interest in details, Anna Mae. Never
did. You’re all theory, through and through.”

“And you’re rotten through and through. You could’ve saved me all this.”

“Oh no doubt of that, I could have indeed. But you know how people say it’s bad for your health to carry a grudge, how they
say it’s way harder on you than it is on the person you’ve got the grudge against? Believe me when I say I agree with them.
It is way harder to carry a grudge. Anna Mae, I tell you with every molecule in my body, you have no idea how deeply I felt
the grudge I’ve been carryin’ against you. You have no idea how hard I looked to find a suitable way to even up with you,
for what an insult it was, not only to me, but to my office, and to every district attorney in this commonwealth, I don’t
give a damn what party they represent. When you took out that ad in the
Gazette
and announced your candidacy and said you didn’t have to be an attorney to hold the office, that was one thing. But when
you said all it took was the skills of an office manager, that just pissed me off to my bones. I vowed to myself that one
day I’d even up with you for that. And I’m very relieved—finally—to say I think I just did.”

Mrs. Remaley didn’t say a word. She picked up her large, black, leather purse and her large, black, leather briefcase and
marched out of the room, head held high.

There was an awkward silence for a few moments, then Valcanas cleared his throat and said, “Well, Mr. Mayor, if motions are
in order, I move you declare this inquiry over.”

“Not so fast, not so fast. I instigated this damn thing, the least you can do is give me a written report—or at least tell
me you’re gonna give me one, somethin’ I can show the paper when they get around to askin’ what happened. God knows, none
of us wantsa look any more ridiculous than we are—least I don’t. If I were you guys, and I was tryin’ to make somebody pay
for this, I’d make Figulli write the damn report. There’s nothin’ he hates worse, and you ask me he deserves all the pain
you can give him.”

“Well then, Mr. Mayor, I think it’s incumbent upon you to appoint yourself chairman pro tern and get this thing wrapped up,”
Hepburg said.

“Yeah, you would. Okay, let’s do it.”

R
AYFORD AND
Reseta were running at the Rocksburg High School football field. Once every couple of weeks, instead of running along the
Conrail tracks by the river or running through town, they’d run a lap around the quarter-mile track at the football field
and then take the bleacher seats two at a time up and one at a time down, do another quarter-mile, and then run up and down
the bleachers again. It was Rayford’s idea, and he was always trying to get Reseta to do it because it was the one way Reseta
couldn’t keep up with him. Going up the bleachers would cause the piece of shrapnel in Reseta’s butt to stick him, and coming
down jarred his back— though he didn’t complain about it—and he’d have to push himself extra hard to catch Rayford when they
got on the flat.

When they started their cool-down walk, Rayford said, “Know what I never ast you?”

“What?”

“Happened to that kid?”

“What kid?”

“Irish kid. One you was haulin’ ass down the juvey center.”

“When?”

“ ’Chu talkin’ ’bout, when? Second worst night of my life.”

“Gone. Man, it’s hot. Supposed to be this hot for May?”

“Gone? Gone where?”

“Gone, wherever gone is, I don’t know. Children’s Bureau found his foster family, sent him back to them, then he took off
again.”

“So he never had a lawyer momma? Or doctor father?”

“Maybe he does, I don’t know. But there’s no doctors or lawyers in the foster house. Just another foster family. Four other
kids in the house. Apparently he was the only one didn’t like their rules.”

They walked a lap, wiping their sweat, drinking water.

“Still ain’t goin’ tell me what happened with you in Nam, are ya? When you shot that guy, huh?”

“No, and if you don’t stop askin’ you’re gonna run by yourself from now on.”

“Well why’d you tell me I was headin’ for a shit storm after I shot Hornyak? And why’d you look like you looked?”

“ ’Cause you were. But you got through it. Without any help from me no matter what I looked like. So forget about it.”

“Sometimes I don’t know why I even talk to you.”

“You have to talk to me, nobody else likes you.”

“Oh if you ain’t the fucked-uppest motherfucker I ever knew— what happened to your face, you goin’ tell me that?”

“If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me anyway, so why should I?”

“Look here, man, you got one cut under your nose, you got ’nother one on top a your right eye, and you ain’t goin’ tell me
what happen?”

Reseta stopped and faced Rayford. “If I tell you, I want your blood oath on your shield this stays right here.”

“Ow, that bad, huh?”

“Wipe that smirk off your face, this is serious. I want your word—”

“Okay, okay, got-damn. It stays here.”

“I, uh, I been on this med. For, uh, depression.”

“Depression? You? You mean like the real shit? Not some-woman-stole-your-furniture-and-wrecked-your-ride kinda depression?
The chemical shit?”

“Yeah the chemical shit.”

“Since when, man? Whyn’t you say somethin’?”

“I am sayin’ something, you gonna let me say it or not?”

“Yeah yeah, say it, man. Sorry. Shit.”

“You know, since, uh, since after Christmas.”

“Oh. Yeah. Your man in Mississippi.”

“Yeah. It got real bad around the middle of March, end of March. So, anyway, had to do somethin’, I couldn’t keep on like
that. Went to see this GP, he prescribed this med. For a while it worked real good. Then it started messin’ with my sleep.”

“Messin’ how?”

“Started havin’ these dreams, man. Awful. So bad I’d wake up, two, three, four times a night. Be so tired in the mornin’,
it was like I hadn’t slept at all. I was runnin’ on caffeine.”

“Yeah, man. We noticed that.”

“We? Well, yeah, I’m sure everybody did. But not as much as I did. Started forgettin’ things. Simple stuff, basic stuff. Come
outta the unit, forget my baton, my flash, started screwin’ up my UIRs. One day Nowicki chewed me a new one. So I got the
dose adjusted, worked okay for a little while more. Then it started again. The dreams.”

“Like what kind?”

“Okay. I’m gonna tell you the last one. And this is how I got these cuts. You can laugh, I don’t care, but you can’t tell
this—”

“Already swore, James, I said I wouldn’t, what the fuck?”

“Alright. Here it is. I’m on some kinda campus. College campus somewhere. There’s shit everywhere. Human shit. It’s impossible
to walk without steppin’ in it. I’m short, I’m fat, and I’m wearin’ a basketball uniform—”

“Basketball uniform?!”

“Just listen, okay? Some guy’s leadin’ me to this field house. I’m supposed to win this basketball game, everybody’s cheerin’
me. The game’s goin’ on right then, it’s bein’ played while I’m bein’ led into the field house. And I’m supposed to win this
game, but not because I got great basketball skills …”

“What then?”

“It’s, uh, it’s because I fart—”

“Say what? ’Cause you fart?”

“Yeah, just listen, willya?”

“Okay. ’Cause you fart. You goin’ win the game ’cause you fart—”

“That’s right, it’s a dream, alright? When I fart, I emit this noxious gas, really nauseating odor. It’s so bad people can’t
stand to be anywhere near me. So what I’m supposed to do is get in the game, get under the basket, and fart, and the other
team, they’re gonna wanna get away, and our guys are gonna get all the rebounds, and that’s how we’re gonna win.”

“Well if your farts are so bad, why’re your guys, I mean, how come they don’t try to get away?”

“I don’t know. That wasn’t clear. All I know is the person who’s leadin’ me into the gym, he’s arguin’ with somebody about
what to feed me to produce the foulest smell. Somebody tells him that I love kolbassi and the garlic in it will make me fart
more. And worse—”

“You told me one time you don’t like kolbassi—”

“It’s a dream, okay?”

“Oh. Okay. So then what?”

“I mean this is all serious, this is as though life itself depends on the outcome of this game. And as we’re about to enter
the field house, the entrance, it’s lined with the longest turds I’ve ever seen, ten, twelve, fifteen feet long. It’s very
hard to avoid them. And I notice how much they resemble kolbassi. I think maybe they are kolbassi—”

“Oh man you ain’t goin’ tell me you wind up eatin’ shit—”

“Stop interruptin’ me, will ya?! It’s a dream.”

“Please don’t tell me you—”

“Shut up, will ya! I don’t eat shit, okay? But somebody comes runnin’ up, they’re slippin’ and slidin’, and they got one piece
of grilled kolbassi on a tree branch. Everybody’s cheerin’. They’re sayin’, yeah, that’ll do it, feed him, feed him, put him
in, put him in, they’re chanting, and the noise is ferocious, it’s deafening. And then I hear these girls talkin’ about how
fat I am, how short I am, how it’s ridiculous to think I’m gonna help the team win because they say I can’t play at all—”

“Oh I’ve seen you play, James, and they’re right, you can’t—”

“Will you shut the fuck up and let me tell it? You wanna know what happened to my face, I’m tryin’ to tell you.”

“Okay, go ’head, go ’head.”

“So I’m insulted by these girls. I become determined to play well, that if they put me into the game I’ll win it not because
of my farts but because I play well. And then I’m in the game, I get the ball, I attempt a shot and I’m fouled. I go to the
foul line. I’m so inexperienced at basketball I have to ask the ref if I’m standing in the right place. And he tells me yeah,
so I try to bounce the ball, you know, dribble it a couple times to relax myself, and its surface, the surface of the ball
is like the top of a muffin—”

“The ball’s like a muffin? A muffin?”

“Yeah, a muffin. Don’t ask me what kind. And it’s very heavy, the ball. I don’t know if I have the strength to make the shot.
But I try. The ball barely makes it to the front of the rim, but it bounces straight back to me. I don’t hesitate. I shoot
and I make the basket. On the inbound pass, the ball’s rollin’ loose on the floor. I’m determined to get it. Like it’s the
most important thing in the world for me to get that ball. So I dive for it. And I wake up, my nose is bleedin’, my eye’s
bleedin’, my elbow’s throbbin’. I dove off the fuckin’ bed—”

“Oh man, you dove off the bed?!”

“In my sleep, yeah. To get the ball. Face-first into the table beside my bed.”

Rayford tried not to laugh, but couldn’t help himself. He doubled over and stamped his feet.

“See, you think that’s funny—”

“I can’t help it, James, it is, man. That’s the wildest shit I ever heard.”

“Well it ain’t funny to me. That’s the kinda dreams I’ve been havin’ since about two weeks after I started on this med. Can’t
remember the last time I had a good night’s sleep.”

“Well, believe this, I started dreamin’ ’bout playin B-ball that bad, I’d flush that shit in a heartbeat.”

“Yeah? Me too. Except the depression’s a whole lot worse.”

“Well I’d either get me another pill, man, or another pill-roller, one or the other,”

“I thought so too. For a while. But I don’t know. I think these dreams’re tellin’ me it’s time to pack it in. Move on with
my life.”

“Shit, James, you been sayin’ that for how long now?”

“No. I mean it. I mean what’s this dream about, huh? Me tryin’ not to step in shit. Human shit. Me tryin’ to get in the game.
And the people want me in the game, they want me in there not ’cause I’m good but ’cause I emit this gas that’s so noxious
it drives everybody away. And that’s what I’ve been doin’, long as I can remember. The Guinnans, Victor Charlie, the Scavellis,
the Hornyaks, the Buczyks, man, that kid, the runaway. Then the night I saw you and Canoza in the wagon, you were holdin’
your nuts, that thing was stickin’ outta Boo, and the next thing I knew, I was on my ass ’cause I stepped in dog shit. Enough’s
enough, man, how long can you keep tellin’ yourself you’re helpin people when all you’re doin is tryin’ not to step in their
shit?”

Rayford shook his head. “You put it that way, man, maybe it’s time for you to be gone. But I think you’re wrong. I think you
helped a lot more people than you think you did.”

“Yeah? Name one.”

“Me.”

“Oh right, yeah, I helped you a lot.”

“You did, man. Gave me that book. Made me take those tests. I got to the second one, that one that goes, what you goin’ tell
your- self if you don’t make a change in your life? And soon as that inquiry bullshit was over, I talked to my lawyer, you
know, Valcanas?”