Execution of Innocence Read Free Page A

parked out front, and even more surprised to find Charlie inside the house sitting with her mother eating cookies and drinking milk. He had cleaned himself up but still didn’t look like a milk drinker. As her mother excused herself, Mary sat at the kitchen table with him and noticed for the first time that Charlie had a powerful stare. He seemed more interested in her than he had that afternoon. She asked about the car and he shook his head.
    “I tuned it up and changed the oil but it’s still ready to fall apart,” he said.
    “It can't fall apart,” she said. “I need it until next September.”
    “It's a car, not a person. You can't tell it what to do.”
    “I don't know about that. It's my car. I can tell it what I want. How much do I owe you?”
    He bit into a cookie. “Ten bucks.”
    “No. Charge me what's fair.”
    “Fifty bucks.”
    She frowned. “That's a lot.”
    He waved his hand. “You don't owe me anything, Mary. Accept it as a favor.”
    She was afraid she'd have to repay his favor by going out with him. Not that that was such a horrible idea, at the moment. Still, she wanted to do what was right. She opened her purse.
    “Can I give you thirty?” she asked. “It’s all I have right now.”
    He looked at her. “You don’t owe me anything, I promise.”
    It was amazing how easily he saw through her, she thought. His unkempt manner didn’t mean he was stupid, she had to remind herself. She put her purse aside.
    “Thanks,” she said. “I really mean it. Have you been here long?”
    “Ten minutes.”
    “You drove my car over?” she asked.
    “I didn’t walk it over.”
    “Do you need a ride home?”
    “I can walk,” he said.
    “No. It’s cold outside. I'll give you a ride. Where do you live?”
    “By the train track, off Strater.”
    That was Maple City's worst section, its own personal ghetto. Mary winced at the thought of anyone living there, but then decided it was better than fighting sandstorms in a thatched house in Saharan Africa. Charlie continued to study her. Once again he seemed to read her mind.
    “I don't need much,” he said.
    Mary stood and forced a smile. For some reason his remark had embarrassed her. “I should take you home now,” she said. “I have to study for a few hours before I go to bed.”
    He also stood. “I haven't studied since third grade.”
    “I should have known you then. Third grade was the last time I took it easy.”
    She gave him a ride across town, to a makeshift house at the end of a forlorn block. There was no front lawn, only a dirt space big enough to park a pickup truck and collect the trash. She had just pulled in his driveway when her car engine made a terrible grinding sound and then died. She thought she smelled something burning. Looking over at him with fire in her eyes, she yelled, “What did you do to my car?”
    He shrugged, unmoved. “I told you.”
    She tried to restart it, but failed. “But it was working fine before!”
    “It was not fine before. It's an old car.”
    “At least it ran! Now I can’t even start it!”
    “You just threw a rod.”
    “A rod? What does that mean?”
    “It means your engine is wrecked.”
    She pounded on the steering wheel. “My engine can't be wrecked! I need this car!”
    “I doubt the car understands that.”
    She pointed a finger at his calm expression. “You are responsible for this! You will pay for this!”
    “I changed the spark plugs, points, oil, and reset the carburator. I didn't touch the engine.”
    “Right. It’s just a coincidence my engine exploded in your driveway.”
    “It is a coincidence.” He opened the door. “My truck's here. I'll give you a ride home.”
    Frustrated, she got out, pulling her down jacket tight. Usually in December, Maple was below freezing at night. Yet there had been no snow this year, not yet. The overhead stars were hard points of light. She chased him as he strolled toward his truck.
    “I can't leave my car here,” she said.
    “It