money market accounts. My liquid assets nudge well into seven figures with more than my toenails on that million-dollar line.
The truck, a big V-8, is very fast, and I have driven it out to the top end, sometimes in the middle of moonlit nights on remote Georgia blacktops. With the headlights off. Slowing when I thought maybe a dog might wander out in front of me. Some farm kid’s pet. No fear for me, however. After all one’s greatest fears have happened, what is left to fear? I looked back at the deputy as he began to speak again.
The deputy said, “Georgia plates. I ran them. No problems, but they still aren’t Iowa plates, if you get my meaning. You’re still a stranger.”
“In a suddenly strange land.”
“I don’t appreciate a wise guy right now, Mr. O’Shea. Hugh Soderstrom was my friend.”
“Sorry. I didn’t know him.”
“Your loss.” A challenge in the statement, gone unanswered. No reason to.
I nodded my head. “I guess so.”
Doltch looked at me, searching for sarcasm. Another time. “I understand Chuck Aldrich was the first person here.”
“Besides Mrs. Soderstrom, that’s right.”
“Mind if I ask you what you were doing here?”
“Do I need a lawyer?”
Doltch smiled a little smile. “You are not a suspect; not even a person of interest.”
“If it’s an accident, there aren’t any suspects, or persons of interest.” Wiseguy again. Doltch picked up on it. His little smile went away. I rubbed my leg just below my butt. The rain continued, somewhat abated. Like it was tired, or had seen what was on the ground and slowed for a look before moving on. We both stood there, listening to the sound of gentle rain pelting into the earth. “To answer your question, I was just out enjoying a drive when I bumped into all this,” I said.
Doltch hunched his thick shoulders against the rain, reached inside his gray, opaque raincoat, and fished in his shirt pocket until he produced a pen and notebook. Technology stampede. “I’d like to ask you a couple more questions.”
Instantly, the rain stopped, as if to listen to my answers. Just like that. We both looked up. The sun came out. Perfect growing conditions which drive the economy of an entire state. The world smelled fresh and clean.
Doltch asked routine questions. No edge at all. He did not ask me if I saw or heard anything unusual. It was an accident and would be reported as such, although he had yet to ask the only witness what she saw. He finished in ten minutes, leaving me stunned over his zeal to get to the truth.
I must confess, though, it did excite me to see a law enforcement professional at work. It’s a natural rush no television crime show can match.
When the questions ended, Doltch said thanks, strode over to his cruiser, opened the rear door behind the driver’s side, pulled off his raincoat and tossed it in the backseat. He slammed that door, opened the driver’s door, scrunched in behind the wheel, turned his baseball cap around backwards, and began writing on a clipboard. He finished writing, placed the clipboard onto the seat next to him, and pulled the door shut. Then he left, nodding soberly at me as he drove away, tires wet on the gravel.
I hobbled back down the lane to my truck, opened the door, and slid inside, lifting my right leg and swinging it into a position on the floorboard in front of the accelerator. It felt like someone had stuck a hot ice pick in the back of my leg, then wiggled it around. My nausea was gone, gradually replaced by significant discomfort. Now it was tightening up. Oh, joy. I started the engine.
For a moment I just sat there, soaked to the skin, staring at that beautiful mailbox, but seeing the face of Wendy Soderstrom. The cloudburst had washed away the gore she’d pressed onto me, but I didn’t have any trouble remembering it felt like that gelatin that oozes out from around the circumference
The truck, a big V-8, is very fast, and I have driven it out to the top end, sometimes in the middle of moonlit nights on remote Georgia blacktops. With the headlights off. Slowing when I thought maybe a dog might wander out in front of me. Some farm kid’s pet. No fear for me, however. After all one’s greatest fears have happened, what is left to fear? I looked back at the deputy as he began to speak again.
The deputy said, “Georgia plates. I ran them. No problems, but they still aren’t Iowa plates, if you get my meaning. You’re still a stranger.”
“In a suddenly strange land.”
“I don’t appreciate a wise guy right now, Mr. O’Shea. Hugh Soderstrom was my friend.”
“Sorry. I didn’t know him.”
“Your loss.” A challenge in the statement, gone unanswered. No reason to.
I nodded my head. “I guess so.”
Doltch looked at me, searching for sarcasm. Another time. “I understand Chuck Aldrich was the first person here.”
“Besides Mrs. Soderstrom, that’s right.”
“Mind if I ask you what you were doing here?”
“Do I need a lawyer?”
Doltch smiled a little smile. “You are not a suspect; not even a person of interest.”
“If it’s an accident, there aren’t any suspects, or persons of interest.” Wiseguy again. Doltch picked up on it. His little smile went away. I rubbed my leg just below my butt. The rain continued, somewhat abated. Like it was tired, or had seen what was on the ground and slowed for a look before moving on. We both stood there, listening to the sound of gentle rain pelting into the earth. “To answer your question, I was just out enjoying a drive when I bumped into all this,” I said.
Doltch hunched his thick shoulders against the rain, reached inside his gray, opaque raincoat, and fished in his shirt pocket until he produced a pen and notebook. Technology stampede. “I’d like to ask you a couple more questions.”
Instantly, the rain stopped, as if to listen to my answers. Just like that. We both looked up. The sun came out. Perfect growing conditions which drive the economy of an entire state. The world smelled fresh and clean.
Doltch asked routine questions. No edge at all. He did not ask me if I saw or heard anything unusual. It was an accident and would be reported as such, although he had yet to ask the only witness what she saw. He finished in ten minutes, leaving me stunned over his zeal to get to the truth.
I must confess, though, it did excite me to see a law enforcement professional at work. It’s a natural rush no television crime show can match.
When the questions ended, Doltch said thanks, strode over to his cruiser, opened the rear door behind the driver’s side, pulled off his raincoat and tossed it in the backseat. He slammed that door, opened the driver’s door, scrunched in behind the wheel, turned his baseball cap around backwards, and began writing on a clipboard. He finished writing, placed the clipboard onto the seat next to him, and pulled the door shut. Then he left, nodding soberly at me as he drove away, tires wet on the gravel.
I hobbled back down the lane to my truck, opened the door, and slid inside, lifting my right leg and swinging it into a position on the floorboard in front of the accelerator. It felt like someone had stuck a hot ice pick in the back of my leg, then wiggled it around. My nausea was gone, gradually replaced by significant discomfort. Now it was tightening up. Oh, joy. I started the engine.
For a moment I just sat there, soaked to the skin, staring at that beautiful mailbox, but seeing the face of Wendy Soderstrom. The cloudburst had washed away the gore she’d pressed onto me, but I didn’t have any trouble remembering it felt like that gelatin that oozes out from around the circumference
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