The End of Vandalism Read Free

I bring it up.”
    Tiny laughed. “How tall is this cruiser?” he said. “A foot and a half?”
    The lights were low at the jail in Morrisville, and inside, the two deputies and some of their friends were projecting slides of nudes onto a map of the county. “I wish I lived on Floyd Coffee’s farm tonight,” said Deputy Earl Kellogg, Jr. Dan told them to cut it out and take Tiny Darling and put him in a cell. Then he sat down to do the paperwork.
    “Dopers are out there pushing dope,” said Tiny. “People stabbing that guy in the alley behind the bank. On the other hand is me, who gave blood.”
    “What’s your real name, Tiny?” said Dan.
    “Charles,” said Tiny. “I’m in the plumbing supply.”
    “What a lie,” said Earl Kellogg. “Dan, Ted Jewell’s daughter called. I forget her name.”
    “There’s Shea and there’s Antonia,” said Ed Aiken, the other deputy.
    “All right,” said Earl. “The junior class there at Morrisville-Wylie is having a dance against vandalism, and this Shea Jewell said they want you to be a chaperon. They had Rollie Wilson from the EMTs, but you know Wilson’s had that fire.”
    “We’ll see,” said Dan.
    “It’s semi-formal,” said Earl.
    Dan unplugged the projector, took the slides, and left. It was still snowing. He took a roundabout way back to Grafton and found himself coming up on Tiny and Louise’s place. Their yard light blinked through the trees. Tiny and Louise rented the white farmhouse that used to be the Harvey and Iris Klar place and was still owned by the Klars’ daughter Jean, who lived thirty miles away, in Reinbeck, and had a job that had something to do with the brick and tile company there.
    Dan pulled in the driveway and got out. A white square-headed dog bolted from the toolshed and came leaping overthe fine blue snow. The dog hardly made a sound, and Dan talked him into going back to the shed. Meanwhile, Louise Darling had opened the front door. Dan walked over to the house. Someone had lined the foundation with hay bales—that was good. Louise wore jeans and a white sweatshirt. Dan stepped inside, closed the door, and noticed that Louise had no shoes or socks on. The living room was dark except for the violet TV light.
    Louise turned on a table lamp. “Where’s Tiny?” she said. She had long full brown hair parted on the side. Over in the corner a black camera stood on a tripod—Louise worked for Kleeborg’s Portraits in Stone City.
    “Tiny got in a fight with Bob Becker at the Lime Bucket,” said Dan. “Tiny’s fine, but he’s drunk, so I took him to the Morrisville jail for overnight.”
    “He’s not hurt,” said Louise.
    “No,” said Dan. “As I say, he won the fight.”
    “What’s he charged with?” said Louise.
    “I’m not bringing anything,” said Dan. “I wash my hands of it. What are you watching?”
    “What does that mean,” said Louise, “if you wash your hands?”
    Dan stared at the TV. “He’ll be let go in the morning,” he said. “At eight o’clock in the morning they’ll let him go when they go off their shift.”
    Louise went and drank something amber from a small glass. “God damn it,” she said. “Why can’t people leave Tiny alone?”
    Dan sat down on the arm of a chair. “Louise,” he said, “in all fairness, people might ask the same of Tiny. He can be pretty obnoxious.”
    Louise picked up a pack of cigarettes and sat down on the couch. “This is true,” she said.
    “What is this?” said Dan, gesturing toward the TV.
    “KROX Comix Classix ,” said Louise. “There’s this tired priest, see, and this moth is driving him crazy in his room. The priest had to ride a bicycle over rocks all day.” Louise lit a cigarette.
    “Huh,” said Dan.
    “It’s a comedy set in Italy,” Louise said.
    They watched that for a minute. Dan took off his hat and hung it on his knee.
    “My face aches,” said Louise.
    Dan went home in his cruiser. He had a fried-egg sandwich and a bottle of