Calibre

21

The cops were here. I fucked up and big time. Worse, I had a couple of scotches while they were interviewing me. And that blew my focus to shit. I got complacent, figured I could handle them easy. Two of them, Porter, the senior officer, and a sergeant named Brant. Porter I pegged as a fag. He had all that fussy manner, nice politeness, and the body language so I figured to concentrate on him. I figured the sergeant was just dumb. Figured wrong. If anything, he was the sharpest. Cultivates the animal persona. You reckon he’s just pig-ignorant and brute force is the only game he’s got. I should have known when he zoned in on the books. But no, I was busy playing mind-fuck with the fag. Next thing, Brant has “the book” in his hands, asks if he can borrow it? So I panicked and said he couldn’t. Big mistake, now it was the centre of attention. When they asked for the diary, I got very stupid, gave Porter my business diary and acted all innocent. Pissing them off was not ever going to be smart and I just went right ahead and did it. Brant managed to distract me, so I never saw him pocket the book. They know of course I’m going to miss it, and thus they manage a double whammy. Think, damn it, think. There is no physical evidence, no way to connect me to the murders. Hell, they can’t even prove the murders took place. A decent lawyer would blow them out of court. But I’ve got them interested in me now, and that’s a real bad place. I wanted to play, but not up close and personal. The double act they had going tells me these guys are good. And my intuition says if they want my ass, they’ll get it, one way or another.

So they read the book and, sure enough, it’s going to sway them towards me being the guy they want. Can’t be helped. I wish I could have gotten a few more killings under my belt before attracting notice. What’s to be salvaged? Mmm, at least I know not to play at silly buggers. And the uncanny thing is, Ford, in the book, starts off so smart, so sure and undetected then, of course, the woman screws the whole deal, sound familiar? Jeez, I love the book, but I don’t want to be the ending. What I want to do is get out there and off some fucker but tricky now my cover is blown to shit.

Brant put the book down, said:

‘This novel, the main character is a sheriff, he kills people, likes to fuck with them, acts down home, friendly, and is laughing at everybody. Want to hazard a guess as to his name?’

Porter didn’t take long, said:

‘Ford.’

Brant smiled, said:

‘No wonder he didn’t want to part with it.’

Porter thought about it, said:

‘Nothing we could bring into court.’

Brant had another look at the book, said:

‘Least the fuck gets his in the end.’

Porter signalled for the bill, knew Brant wouldn’t be paying, said:

‘The murders can’t be proved to be anything more than accidental, so what can we do?’

Brant was in no doubt, said:

‘Lean on him.’

Porter wanted something solid. They were on to the guy, but so what? There was nothing they could charge him with. He asked:

‘So we lean on him, what’s that going to do, he’s not going to confess.’

Brant was lighting a cig, blew the smoke out slowly, said:

‘You lean in the right way, things happen, always do.’

Porter put a few notes on the table, said:

‘I’m going to re-examine the killings, see if there’s anything to join the dots.”

Brant stood up, said:

‘He knows we know, that is something.’

‘But does it help us?’

Brant had no idea, said:

‘I’ve no idea, but be sure of one thing.’

‘What’s that?’

‘I’ll get this guy, you can put that in the bank.’

Porter didn’t like the sound of this, emphasized:

‘You mean “we,” right? We’re going to get him?’

Brant hesitated, then:

‘Sure.’