Cold in July

11

I left a message for Ann at the school, told the receptionist to tell her everything was all right and not to worry, but to meet Jordan and me at the police station.

At the station, Jordan was restless and I bought him a Coke and a package of those round peanut-butter-filled crackers. He drank some of the Coke and used the can to mash the crackers into the table. That seemed to bother Price. You would have thought it was his table. I didn’t make Jordan stop.

“Who was there first?” Price asked. “You or Russel?”

“Russel.”

“Did he do anything to you?”

“No. He said he thought my son got off at three-forty-five and I took a swing at him.”

“Did you make contact?”

“Yeah.”

“Did he hit you back?”

“No.”

Price did the reshaping number with his hand and face again. “You still got nothing, Mr. Dane. The worst he could be accused of is loitering. That’s a big parking lot. He could have been planning to go in one of the stores on the other side of it; maybe he was having a smoke before going inside. He could try and press charges against you for taking a swing at him. You’ve admitted yourself that you did.”

I didn’t even feel like arguing anymore. I could see where this was going. “For what it’s worth,” I said. “I got his license number.”

“I’ll run a check on the computer. Give me the number. It won’t take but a minute.”

I gave him the number and he went away with it and came back in about two minutes. I was watching the clock.

“Local car rental. All legal.”

“I guess that leaves me where I was.”

“I’m afraid so. I know how you feel, but I can’t arrest a man on another’s say-so. Even if the one accused is an ex-con. If we arrested everyone that might commit a crime, the jail would be full long before sundown.”

“I get the picture. But you still intend to have someone watching the house tonight?”

“That’s right.”

I collected Jordan and we went outside to wait on Ann. Jordan told me a story about a little blue rabbit that could run fast, and about five minutes later Ann drove up. I told her to follow us to our favorite Mexican restaurant and I’d tell her the story there.

· · ·

Ann went through all the arguments I had given Price, and I gave her all of Price’s arguments back. She didn’t like my answers any better than I had liked them coming from Price.

“I think you and Jordan should leave town,” I said. “Stay somewhere until this blows over.”

“I don’t like that,” Ann said.

“I don’t want the idghalada, daddy, I want chips.”

“It’s enchilada, son, and don’t talk when we’re talking. It’s not polite.”

“But I don’t want-”

“Will you hush, son? I’m trying to talk to your mother. Or she’s trying to talk to me… Christ, I don’t remember who was talking to who.”

“I just want chips,” Jordan said.

“Eat the chips then,” I said, “but let mommy and me talk.”

Jordan started eating out of the bowl of corn chips, looking quite content with himself.

“I was saying,” Ann said, “that I don’t like that idea. I don’t think we should leave. He could follow us. If we went to your mother’s for example, and he did follow us, we could put her in jeopardy as well as ourselves. I say we do as Price suggested. We get a gun and watch out. We’ve got burglar alarms and bars now. That should be worth something.”

“We could take Jordan out of school a few days,” I said. “And maybe you could get some time off. I could let James and Valerie run the shop and we could all stay home for a time. Wait Russel out.”

“It seems like the best idea to me,” Ann said. “Let’s go home.”