Fool Me Twice

41

It was early Monday evening when Jesse pulled up in front of the Community Services Building. He made his way to William Goodwin’s office.

Ida Fearnley greeted him warily.

“He’s waiting,” she said.

She ushered him inside, where he found Goodwin standing at his desk. Beside him stood Oscar LaBrea, pointing a short-barreled Ruger .45-millimeter automatic pistol at Jesse.

Ida remained in the room, closing the door behind her and leaning against it.

“Aw, hell,” Jesse said.

“In case you’re wondering, I know how to use it,” Oscar said. “Put your gun on the commissioner’s desk.”

Jesse sighed.

He took the Colt from his shoulder holster, turned it so that the handle was facing Goodwin, and placed it on the desk. Then he sat down.

“What’s this about,” he said.

“You’ve flown too close to the flame,” Goodwin said.

“Quit talking in metaphor.”

“Are you aware of what the people of Massachusetts are getting away with? Have you any idea how much they’re receiving for so little?”

Jesse didn’t say anything.

“People are being given the bargain of their lives, and they neither appreciate nor respect it. I tried for years to get them to listen. No one cared. As a result, we continue to squander our most important natural resource. Every time someone takes a piss and flushes the toilet, one and a half gallons of clean water flushes away with it. What’s wrong with this picture?”

He began to pace the room. His already high-pitched voice continued to rise with his anxiety level.

“This despicable behavior has to stop.”

Goodwin sat down, weary from the energy expended on his diatribe.

“Unbeknownst to them, however, the citizens of Paradise have been personally funding the water facilities of the disenfranchised. Thanks to our efforts,” Goodwin said, with a nod to Oscar and Ida, “hundreds of thousands of dollars have been anonymously contributed to help cure the world’s water ills. We are singlehandedly changing the planet, drop by drop.”

“Illegally,” Jesse said.

“What?”

“Regardless of whatever good you think you may be doing, you’re breaking the law. You’ll be held accountable for it.”

“Accountable to whom,” Goodwin said.

“To the citizens of Paradise.”

“Who’s going to tell them?”

“I am,” Jesse said.

“That’s where you’re mistaken,” LaBrea said, stepping closer to Jesse. “You won’t be alive to tell them.”

Jesse turned to LaBrea, whose pistol was still trained on him.

“I’m going to shoot you, you bastard,” LaBrea said.