Bone Deep

14

The sun flashed off the reservoir like a wild, leaping silver fish that came straight at Tee, blinding him. He sat upon their rock, holding Mrs. Leigh at the only time when she would let him embrace her completely, her face buried in his chest. He touched the tears on her cheek with the tip of his tongue, closing his eyes against the sun. He yearned to tell her that he loved her, at least now, but he knew how she would react. She would squirm away from him and start talking again in her stern, elusive way, half belle, half termagant, talking about anything other than what he had said. She would not tell him she loved him too, he knew that, and her body would transform from soft and yielding to all angles and sharp edges once more.

Instead of speaking he held her just a little tighter, as if he could cling to the moment as well as her body. She was so frail, really. It was only her energy, her restless, nervous energy that made her seem so hard. He could crush her like an eggshell if he wanted to, he told himself. Or he could enfold her with his strength and protect her from everything.

She stiffened in his arms.

"Not yet," he said, thinking she was going to leave him.

"Did you hear that?" and cheep of the forest. "What?"

She pushed away from him. go, " she said, suddenly angry, her voice a hoarse whisper. She was on her feet tugging at her clothes. "Someone coming." She jerked her finger down the hill as if Tee were slow-witted and she were running out of patience.

He listened again, trying to ignore the sounds she made pulling the spandex across her skin. He heard it this time, a footfall, then another. Someone sneaking up on them.

Mrs. Leigh ran deeper into the woods, following the path away from her home, still holding one shoe in her hand. Tee got to his feet, fumbling at his pants, wondering if he should try to scramble down the hill, risk himself at speed on the rocks. The steps came closer, faster, no longer trying to conceal themselves, and suddenly McNeil crested the hill, stepped from around a tree that sheltered the last few feet of the path, smirking, not at all surprised to see the chief of police.

Hey there, Chief." 'What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you. Just a lucky guess, I guess." So pleased with himself, but sly, like a weasel, like he knew more than you did, all the time, every time. "You must have forgotten and turned your radio off."

Tee made a dumb show of finding the radio on his belt, pretended surprise that it was off, feeling foolish in the attempt to play McNeil's game.

"What do you want?" Tee asked.

McNeil sidled closer, his face twisted in a lopsided grin' For a moment Tee thought of grabbing the man by the neck and hurling him off the edge of the cliff. Rid himself of embarrassment and suspicions all at once.

Tee listened, heard nothing beyond the constant murmur "Can't really make it out myself," McNeil said. "Metzger's found something and he's all hot to get ahold of YOU."

"Found what?"

"A car, I — think."

"Where-?"

"He wouldn't say, not on the radio. He says he has to talk to you first. You boys got secrets, do you?" McNeil smirked again.

"Let's go then." Tee started to move but McNeil was blocking his path.

The smaller man stood his ground, short and wide, like a pit bull, one hand raised before him. Suddenly Tee felt very vulnerable, standing with his back to the edge, his feet a step or two from empty space.

McNeil reached forward abruptly, his hand shooting toward Tee's chest.

Tee stepped back involuntarily, realized he had overstepped, and flailed his arms to keep his balance.

McNeil grabbed him by the belt and pulled him back to equilibrium on the rock. He arched a brow mockingly.

"Careful there, Chief. You're on dangerous ground."

With exaggerated care and precision, he formed his fingers into pincers and tweezed a long black hair from Tee's shirt. He held it up as if examining it, making sure that Tee saw it too, then blew it away.

I'll kill him, thought Tee. If he threatens me in any way, if he tries to take advantage of this, if he even hints at jeopardizing the rest of my life, I'll kill him. He thought of life without Marge, or the inconceivable pain of losing his daughter, Ginny, through a divorce.

I'll kill him and put his bones in a bag and bury him under a tree, Tee thought. And be applauded if I'm ever caught.

When he reached his car, he realized that not once when he was envisioning the horror his life would be if McNeil betrayed him did he think about Mrs. Leigh.

"A C L and P worker found it and called it in first thing this morning,"

Metzger said, referring to the power company. Kiwasee's car sat where he had left it, wedged between larger trees, hidden from the road. His path up the clear-cut and into the underbrush was easy to follow, a trail of crushed grass, broken saplings.

"Did you check out the license plate?" Tee asked.

"It's stolen from Bridgeport. Taken around noon yesterday," Metzger said. "I made a preliminary recon in the woods here, thought maybe the driver was still around."

"Doing what?" McNeil asked. "Taking a piss? Taking a nap under a tree?"

"Well…" Metzger shrugged weakly. "I just thought…"

"What did you find?" Tee asked.

"I'll show you." Metzger led them into the woods.

"I spend more time in the woods these days…" McNeil said sourly. "How come all our cops like the woods so damned much?"

"You live pretty close to here, don't you, McNeil?" Tee asked.

"Not too far. You didn't forget where I lived, did you, Chief?" Another smirk, implying just what, Tee could not say. He didn't think McNeil could possibly know that he had been rummaging through his garage two days earlier, but McNeil's attitude implied that he knew everything, always. "Did you want to come over to my place, have a cup of tea" Or were you asking if you could use it one of those rainy days. The wife and I work during the day, you know."

"Use it for what?" Tee asked in a chilly tone.

"Hey, whatever."

"Over here," said Metzger, uncertain what he was interr-upting.

Tee turned very slowly from McNeil, eyeing him dis trustfully before exposing his back, as if the policeman were a snake.

"Blood, I think," said Metzger, pointing to a splotch the color of old rust on a tree trunk.

Tee squatted by the tree. The blood was in the shape of a partial handprint that blurred and vanished at the bottom. As if someone had grabbed the trunk to pull himself up, then slid back to the ground.

There was more blood on the ground, amongst the leaf litter. Tee took a few tentative steps and saw more blood splattered along the ground. The more he looked, the more appeared, until it seemed he stood in the middle of a shower of blood.

"Call Becker," he said to Metzger. "Right now. Ask him if he can come immediately."

"What do we need Becker for?" McNeil said. "Why don't we handle it, this ain't a federal case."

"Do you know what this is already?"

"No, but shit…"

"No, exactly. I want to find out what it is, that's why I'm sending for Becker."

"It's a stolen car, big deal, we can handle that."

"Get the outline tape from the car too, Metzger. We want to seal off the area immediately."

"Christ, Chief, at least let's look around on our own, first," McNeil said. "Some of us are cops too, you know. Becker isn't the only one who knows something about site investigation, even if he is in the FBI. He's supposed to be good at killing people, that doesn't mean we need to call him for every stolen car we find-"

"Shut up."

"What?"

"You heard me. Shut up about Becker. And you'd better hope he doesn't hear you talking about him."

"I'm not afraid of Becker."

"Then you're stupid along with everything else."

"Fuck him."

"Oh, try, McNeil. Please try, I'd love to watch."

"He's getting a little old, if you ask me. I think he's past it.

"He could handle you from a wheelchair."

"Sure, Chief. Whatever you say… But I don't think I'll make a career out of sucking up to him."

"Chief," Metzger interjected deferentially. Ir "What is it?" Tee said angrily, rounding on Metzger.

"Should I bring the dog?"

McNeil snorted. "You and the fucking dog. Learn to work with human beings. We don't need the damned dog."

"Yes, bring the dog," said Tee. "But don't let him out of the car until I tell you." He turned again to McNeil, who was now squatting in front of the tree trunk with the handprint on it. "You, leave that alone."

"What do you mean, leave it alone? I'm examining it."

"Don't. Don't examine anything. Don't touch anything. Don't even look at anything. Go back to the car."

"What kind of shit is that?"

"I don't want you misdirecting another investigation the way you did at the orchard."

"I didn't misdirect anything..

"I want you off this site. I don't want you to touch anything. Go to the car."

"You can't do this to me."

"Go to the car."

"Fuck that! I been on this force for ten years. You can't treat me like a goddamned rookie."

"You hard of hearing? Go to the car."

Metzger stood off several yards, listening, amazed.

"What do you think I'm going to do here?"

"I don't know, McNeil. You're always full of surprises-whatever it is, it won't be helpful, and it may be a lot worse. Now get your ass in the car."

"Fuck you, Chief."

"You want me to put you in the car?"

"I'll tell you what, old Chief, I don't think you can."

"Metzger, what are you standing around for? Get Becker, get your dog.

Go on." Metzger moved off reluctantly. McNeil stood his ground.

"Wait a minute, Metzger," Tee called. "I want you to witness this.

Failure to obey an order is a reason for firing that the union has to accept, but offering violence to the chief of police is even better."

McNeil smirked again and spoke in a voice only Tee could hear. "You better keep him here, Chief. Otherwise you might have to back up your big mouth."

"Do you want to say that loud enough for Metzger to hear, you little mutt? I believe that constitutes an offer of violence."

"It's an offer to kick your ass," McNeil said, still sotto voce.

"Can you hear me clearly, Metzger?"

"Yes, Chief"

"Officer McNeil, I am ordering you to go to the car and stay there until I give you further orders."

"Sure thing, Chief," McNeil said loudly, smiling and winking at Metzger.

"Your slightest wish is my command."

With one last look of insubordination, McNeil turned away from Tee.

Walking with Metzger toward the cars, he put his arm on the other officer's shoulders.

"Your car," Tee called. "Not the stolen one."

"Tell me, Metzger, do you remember this song? 'Mr. Leigh, Mr. Leigh, oh Mr. Leigh, Mr. Leigh, Mr. Leigh.' "I don't think I know that…"

"I may have the tune wrong, but the lyrics are right. Aren't they, Chief You remember it, don't you? It's about your vintage. 'Mr. Leigh, Mr.

Leigh, ohhh Mr. Leigh, Mr. Leigh, Mr. Leigh." I don't remember the rest of it, but that's enough, isn't it?"

Tee could hear McNeil's voice still tauntingly singing the inanity after the woods had hidden him from sight.

"You confined him to the car? What is that, your version of house arrest?"

"I lost it," Tee said. "I had this sudden vision of him running around just ahead of me, removing evidence."

Becker scanned the blood drops that surrounded the tree where the hand had grasped the trunk and fallen away. "There's a lot of evidence. We're not going to have to be backwoodsmen to follow this trail."

"I overreacted. His attitude drives me crazy, I just want to belt him … Now I don't know how to get him out of the car."

Becker laughed.

"It's not funny, John."

"It sounds like it. What's the serious side that I'm missing?"

"I lost it for a reason." Tee hesitated. "John… I've been seeing a woman."

Becker nodded, unsurprised. "Uh-huh."

"I mean, I've been, we've…"

You're sleeping together. Mrs. Leigh, is it?" 'How in hell did you know?"

"Body language."

"Christ, is it that obvious?"

"My line of work. It can be kind of hard to hide that sort of thing.

Does Marge know?"

"Of course not! God."

"Somebody knows or you wouldn't be telling me. You're in trouble, right?

You're not confessing just to cleanse your soul,I take it."

"McNeil knows. The fucking prick. I think he made it his business to know, I think he's been following me."

"Why would he do that?"

"To have something on me-maybe in case I got something on him."

"Like?"

"Like this." Tee waved his hand at the crime scene.

"You think this is his work, whatever it is? That's kind of a leap, isn't it? If it's his work, why wouldn't he clean it up? He knows how to fuck up a crime scene."

"Maybe he didn't know we'd be here so soon. Maybe it happened last night and he didn't know what kind of mess he left behind. I don't think he even knew we were coming here this morning, Metzger didn't say what it was on the radio. But he tries to obstruct me every step I take. I have the strongest sense he wants to keep me out of it. And you.

He particularly wants to keep you out of it."

"And just what do you think it is? Are you still after him for the Johnny Appleseed business?"

"Well… yes."

"All I see so far is a stolen car and some blood. Maybe somebody cut himself, maybe he had a bloody nose."

"Maybe. Maybe it's all my imagination because I dislike the guy so much. But I'm not imagining that he knows about Mrs. Leigh. He's even singing it."

Becker chuckled.:'That's not funny either." 'Sorry. I guess it depends how far removed you are from it whether or not you see the humor. It does look kind of silly, at your age."

"Don't preach to me. Not you, of all people. Just because you're happy now."

"Are you that unhappy, Tee?" Becker asked softly.

"No." Tee shook his head. "No, that's the crazy thing.

I'm not unhappy."

"So, quit it. You wanted something different, you wanted to get laid and now you have. Enough already. Stop seeing her and how can McNeil hurt you?" Tee leaned his back against a tree trunk, arched his neck so that his face pointed toward the sky.

"I can't," he said mournfully.

"Why can't you?"

"I don't think I can stop seeing her. I need her."

"Is she that dependent on you?"

"No, no, you don't understand. I don't think she has any particular use for me. I'm just a diversion from a shitty marriage to an irresponsible jerk. I don't think she'd care if I never showed up again. Maybe not even notice."

Becker was silent for a moment, watching his friend's torture. When he spoke it was with compassion.

"Then why, Tee?" Tee stared a moment longer at the patchy blue showing through the leaf canopy. At first Becker thought he would not answer.

"I want to be in love with somebody," he said, his voice thick. "I need to be in love with somebody. I need to feel all that again."

"Yeah," Becker said, inaudibly.

"I don't expect you to understand," Tee said, still not looking at his friend. "Most men would think I'm crazy."

"I understand, Tee. I am in love."

"I know. Now. But what happens when you're not?" he asked, with a finality that suggested that the death of love was inevitable.

Becker could think only of platitudes and rejected them all, not wanting to insult his friend's pain with the easy thoughtlessness of a clichd.

After an uneasy silence, Metzger arrived with the dog.

"Well, shit," said Tee, coming to himself as he heard the car pull up the incline and stop by the treeline. "Let's be cops. With Metzger struggling to restrain the dog on a short leash, the men tracked Kiwasee's bloody trek to the water. McNeil, released from the car without explanation by Tee, followed them sullenly. Some signs of the struggle in the water remained in the prints and gouges on the bank, but it was the dog that led them to the island. And the grave.

When they uncovered Kiwasee's face, Tee gasped in recognition.

"You know him?" Becker asked.

"I think so. It's kind of hard to tell with the shape he's in. Looks like someone worked him over with an ax handle. That's Kiwasee, isn't it, McNeil?"

"Why you asking me?"

"For a fucking second opinion. Isn't that Tyrone Kiwasee? You brought him from Bridgeport."

"You're the one sat with him face-to-face for an hour. I _just had him in the back of the cruiser. I wasn't studying him. It could be Kiwasee. Or not."

"What would Kiwasee be doing here? Is he stupid enough to come back to Clamden and burgle some more?" Becker asked.

"Old Skids is pretty stupid. If that's him," McNeil said.

"Pretty unlucky, too," Becker said.

"How so? Other than being dead."

"He ran into somebody in these woods in the middle of the night who decided to kill him. That's pretty unlucky."

"How do you figure?" McNeil asked. "He was probably killed in Bridgeport and driven here by one of his buddies."

"If he was killed in Bridgeport, why did he start bleeding fifty yards away from here? Not only did he run into this guy, but one of them had a shovel with him."

"Why a shovel, why not a tree limb, an ax handle? A tire iron? You could beat a man like this with just about anything."

"Because it's hard to dig a hole this big with a tree limb or a tire iron. "

Becker and the others gently extricated Kiwasee's body from the grave and Becker felt through the dead man's pockets with one finger. When he found the car keys, he fished them out with his own keys. Behind the stolen car, Becker turned his pocket inside out and used the cloth to grasp the key as he tried it in the trunk. When the trunk opened, the dog went crazy. Metzger had to pull it away forcibly from the plastic trash bag that lay next to a flashlight and a muddy shovel flecked with blood.

Metzger locked the dog in his car while they opened the trash bag, and they could hear it going wild, trying to claw through the window.