Spandex. What the hell was spandex? Whatever it was, it didn't sound like something Laurie should be wearing. "Jennie. Wait a minute. She phoned me up and told me she needed money for a blouse for a square-dancing program…"
"And you believe that? Without even checking with me? And you just sit down and write the check, because mean old mommy won't buy her a blouse? Michael, get real!"
The phone was getting slippery in his grip. Durand had come in and was leaning on the counter, talking to Tiffany Marie. They were both watching him, he knew it, taking quick little glances like he was a pimp under surveillance or something. He turned his back on them so they couldn't see his face, and turned back into Jennie's ranting.
"… maybe shoplifting. She was wearing these earrings, very pretty and very expensive-looking, and when I asked her about it, she said she just found them. And she gets this look on her face, I swear, it just makes me want to slap it off there. And that cheap little snot Chrissy that she's always running around with, she smirks and says, 'Just consider it a gift from the Lady, Ms. Edwards.' "
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Stepovich demanded.
"You tell me! Unless she's some drug pusher or into child pornography or something. Chrissy drops that name all the time, like it's some secret club or something and-"
"Look," Mike cut in. "It's obvious we have to talk. All of us. I'll come over tonight as soon as I'm off shift, and-"
"Oh, no. No way. I talked to her counselor at school, and Ms. Simmons said the worst possible thing would be for a male authority figure to suddenly descend and try to take control of Laurie's life. This "Lady" thing may be a sort of reaching toward womanhood-"
"For Christ's sake," Stepovich butted in, annoyed at her parroting the counselors at him, but Jennie talked right over him, her voice just getting more insistent.
"-that the girls are doing, a redefining of themselves as women rather than children. And Ms. Simmons says that while it does need to be talked about,it needs to be talked about in a nonthreatening atmosphere."
"Well, if Ms. Simmons has all the fucking answers,what the fuck are you calling me for?" He was mindful of where he was and that Durand might overhear him. So each furious word came out in a stiff separate whisper, though they wanted to burst from his chest in a scream. Every six months or so, Jennie seemed to find a new way to do this to him. He was Laurie's father, damnit, he had a right to know, he had a right to help, to be there for her. And now she was telling him that he'd hurt Laurie if he "interfered" by talking to her. His throat squeezed shut and he couldn't get anymore words out.
"I should have known you'd react that way. Listen, Michael, I don't buy everything this counselor says either. And we both know, real well, that you have big problems with believing that any woman can know more about something than you do. But I'm willing to listen to Ms. Simmons if it will help Laurie. So anyway, I'll tell you why I called you. Because Ms.Simmons knows of a women and girls encounter therapy group that she feels could help Laurie. But it's expensive, and my health plan doesn't cover it.All I want to know is if yours will. If the police insurance doesn't have some clause for family counseling,it should, all the families that your police work breaks up and destroys."
"I don't know." Little lead words. "Call Bewie at the services number. You've got my policy number.Ask her. Even though she's a woman, she knows more about the cop insurance stuff than I do."
"And that's all? Call Bewie. Don't you give a damn at all about your daughter?"
"You've already told me you don't want me to come over and talk to her. So what the hell can I do?"He couldn't contain his voice.
"Oh, forget it! I'm sorry I asked. I'll check with Bewie. I'm sorry you called at all."
"Yeah. Me, too." He slammed the receiver down on its hook. He looked over his shoulder and both Durand and Tiffany Marie looked hastily away. Durand said something to her, and she shook her head slightly, not a denial but a commiseration. Stepovich took a deep breath and turned and strode out past them. "Durand. Let's go," he said, and ignored Tiffany's timorous, "You take care now, Mike."
The afternoon passed. That was all he could say for it. Passed the same way time passes for a ball in a pinball machine. Hit the bumpers, light the lights,make the buzzers, but at the end of the play it falls through the flapper gates, and not a damn thing is really changed, not the ball nor the buzzers or lights. It's just time for a different ball to set them off. Neither he nor Durand spoke much, but the tension was different now, it was Durand keeping quiet because he didn't want to set Stepovich off, not keeping quiet to spite him. In an odd way Stepovich was grateful for that.
So when he had finished typing the nineteenth report up, he looked up at Durand and said, "I was out of line, earlier today."
"Yeah. You were. Well, let's forget it," said Durand, and in that moment they were as close to being real partners as they'd ever come.
Stepovich thought about that, driving home. Durand was doing better, no doubt about that. Sometimes, anyway. But a real partner would have noticed that Stepovich hadn't changed out of his uniform after shift, and wondered why. And a real partner would have told the kid that he was going to do a little after-hours rousting, and invited him along. Shut up, he told himself, and agreed with himself.
LATE 1980'S
Raven had his fiddle.
And Owl a tambourine,
And I'd love to hear them play again
And tell them all I've seen.
"RAVEN, OWL, AND I"
"I think I know you, my friend."
"Know me? Well, yes and no, Daniel. We've met in another time and place, but your youngest brother knows me better."
"Yes, You're the Coachman, aren't you?"
"I am. Do you know where your older brother is?"
"No, where?"
"Hmm. I don't know either. I was hoping you did. Well, never mind. You must come with me."
"I know. I've been expecting you since yesterday."
"Of course."
"Where are we going?"
"Lakota, Ohio. Does it matter? Your youngest brother needs your help."
"I am ready to help him. I've been trying to find him since-"
"I know. We've all been waiting. The time of waiting is ended. You have your fiddle?"
"I have it."
"Then come. The coach awaits. It's a Greyhound."
SEVEN
The Wolf and the Spider,the Owl and the Chipmunks
Little Jimmy feeling blue
Doesn't know what he should do.
Little Timmy feeling bad
Doesn't know what makes him mad.
Little Timmy pushed around.
Doesn't know who makes the sound.
Little Timmy hears the voice
Knows he doesn't have a choice.
Little Timmy on the run
Goes to buy a little gun.
Little Timmy waits for dark
Goes to sneak around the park.
Little Timmy feeling mean
Goes to where he can't be seen.
Little Timmy off his head
Gonna shoot somebody dead.
AUTUMN, DUSK
I was dressed in yellow,
My brothers in green and red.
I don't know what we heard,
I only know we fled.
"RAVEN, OWL, AND I"
There was an itch in the back of the Gypsy's neck when he got to the park. He didn't know why, but he wanted his knife in his hand. He did not take it out; there was still some daylight left, and he knew the knife would make him conspicuous. For reasons he didn't understand, he kept to the edge of the park,then moved over to the fountain, keeping it between himself and the grove of oaks.
There were a pair of coaches on the street across from him, but something kept him from moving toward them. In the growing darkness and the snow, he couldn't see what either of the coachmen looked like.He strained his eyes, and the scene shifted and blurred,and there was suddenly a Wolf loping to
ward the coaches. He took a step backward as one of the coaches drove off, while the Wolf approached the other.
The Gypsy shuddered and hurried away.
14 NOV 19:25
This ain't the job I thought I signed up for,
But show me a way back out the door.
"STEPDOWN"
It was already getting dark in the park when he climbed out of the car. Chances were that the horse-drawn carriages were all turned in for the night. The evening was turning cool and grey and snow was falling, not at all the atmosphere for a carriage ride through the park. But no, there were two of them drawn up side by side beneath a street lamp that blossomed into light even as he looked at it. It had the eerie feel of a stage set, coming to life for his benefit.The horses were blanketed against the chill, and their drivers wore greatcoats buttoned to their chins and scarves swathed around their necks and faces. It could have been an engraving, a scene from a hundred years ago. Stepovich's stride faltered. If he climbed aboard one of those carriages and the driver whipped up the horses, would he be carried back to an older, simpler time? Then one of the drivers took out a pack of cigarettes and tamped one out and lit it with a disposable lighter. The illusion burned in that brief flaming,and Stepovich lifted his voice and called out, "Spider."
One of the men lifted an uncertain hand in greeting.Even gloved, the hand was thin and long-fingered, and the arm that stuck out of the coat sleeve was skinny.Like a spider he was, sitting in a dark blob up on the seat of his carriage, his long legs and arms dangling.Stepovich walked up to him slowly, giving him full time to assess his uniform. The other cabby tipped his hat,lifted his reins and clucked his team into motion. Good. The spoked wheels of his carriage grated on the pavement as his team drew him away, leaving Stepovich alone with Spider.
"Whatsamatter?" Spider demanded suspiciously as Stepovich drew near.
"Nothing. Nothing yet, anyway. I just want to ask you a few questions about the man who drove for you last Sunday."
"Oh, shit," Spider breathed fervently. "Not again,man. I tole you guys, none of it was my fault. Man's good with horses, I wanted to take a day off, have a little free time with my old lady. So I let the guy drive sometimes, we split the fares. How was I to know he'd get weird?"
"We just want to get clear what happened." Stepovich drew out his notebook and pen, tried to look as if he already knew it all. "So, one more time, if you don't mind. When did it start?"
Spider looked pissed. "How do I know? I wasn't here, remember, I took a day off. Ask the guy whose car got kicked. Ask the joggers who say he almost ran them over. Ask those guys that was riding in the carriage when it happened. Hell, it was half their fault,anyway, offering him extra money to go off the carriage trails, and then daring him to make the team gallop. They were all drunk; they probably gave Coachman the booze,"
"Okay. I see your point. Maybe the thing for me to do is to talk to the relief driver himself. Give me his name and number again."
"Hunh? I tole you I don't know it. This some kind of cop trick, or what? Coachman don't have no name.Coachman don't have no address. All he's got is booze. How come you're-?"
"I just-"
"What is this, anyway? Who are you?"
Stepovich thought quickly. "Sorry. No, the idiots at precinct screwed up again and I got the wrong info." He stopped and gave Spider a sizing-up. "All right, I'll be straight with you. Can you keep something under your hat?"
"Hunh? Yeah, sure. What is it?"
"There may be more involved in this."
"Like what?"
Stepovich shook his head. "Did you ever see Coachman with a knife?"
Spider stared at him, and Stepovich recognized the look of the witness who wants to be part of something interesting. "A knife? Well, he had a hoof pick. That's how we met. Bunny was throwing her leg a little funny, not limping, really, and this guy walks right in front of the team and reaches up and grabs their heads and stops them. Before I can say more than Shit, he picks up her foot and pops a nasty little piece of gravel out of the frog."
"Frog?"
"Her foot. That was what was making her walk funny. So, a hoof pick, yeah."
"No, I mean a sheath knife with a bone handle."
Spider looked disappointed. "Naw. Once, maybe,I saw him cutting his nails with an old clasp knife that might've had a bone handle. I don't know. Maybe.Hell, maybe it was someone else. You want me to,uh, keep my eye out or anything?"
"The department would appreciate it," said Stepovich. "And if you should happen to find his address, let us know."
"Hey, you bet. What did he do?"
"Nothing directly. It's part of something else. When everything's settled, I'll see if I can let you know."
"Hey, thanks."
"The least I can do," said Stepovich, and returned to his car.
Well, that had turned out for shit. Except that there might be more information on this Coachman on one of the witnesses' statements, if he cared to try and dig through them. If only he'd turned in the knife as evidence in the first place, put the extra charge of concealed weapon, none of this would have happened.
As he was getting into his car, a Chevy very much like Durand's heap drove past. Stegovich stared after the blue car until it faded into the fog. He was sure he was mistaken. Damn, he was getting paranoid.
AUTUMN, NIGHT
He found the table where Timmy D. sat
And settled in like he wanted to stay,
Put his money out on the board
And said, "Hey, boy, teach me to play."
"THE GYPSY"
And around it went, like the steps of the csardas,always back to the same place, only different, with anew tension. He was in front of Tiny's, almost exactly twenty-four hours later. What had he done? He tried to remember, and a headache came on. Where were his pills? A walk to an apartment, a conversation, a debt fulfilled, sleep, a meal, a walk in the park, a wolf,and now back here. What had he gained? What had he lost?
Two girls came out of a bar down the street and walked past him, complaining about the "prick"who had thrown them out. Too young, he thought.
They stopped and turned back. "What was that?"He hadn't realized he'd spoken aloud. The one who queried him had blonde hair with dark roots and wore a very short leather skirt and stockings. The other,dark of hair and taller, with a fuller body though a younger face, was dressed in tight-fitting jeans with grey splotches on them. They both wore very short jackets that didn't look like they would keep snow or cold out.
"I said, too young," repeated the Gypsy.
"Who asked you?" said the blonde.
"There is a time to be in the adult world, and a time to be in the child's world, and you will cheat yourself if you leave the one too soon."
They looked at each other and giggled. "What a weirdo," said the dark one. As she spoke, the Gypsy shivered. Something about her voice resonated within him, seemed familiar.
He shrugged and said, "The road will be there,whenever you set foot on it. But you won't be the same after. You can't go back."
"Ooooo," said the blonde. "Heavy stuff, huh?"She looked at her friend and giggled again. Then she said, "Wanna get lucky, big guy?" and laughed some more.
The dark one said, "Chrissy!" in a tone that mixed shock and amusement.
"Oh, he won't do anything. If he does, we'll scream. Right, big guy?"
The Gypsy looked away, and said, "If you give all you have to the Fair Lady, what will be left when She's finished?" When he turned back, they were staring at him, wide-eyed.
"How do you know about the Fair Lady?" whispered the one called Chrissy. Groups of people walked by, ignoring them. The police could go by any minute, but he couldn't leave these two unwarned.
"There are three worlds," he said. "Each held in place by a tree, each with its sun and moon, each with its own sky full of stars. The top branches of the tree of our world reach to the roots of the next,the roots of our tree reach to the branches of the world below. The Fair Lady comes from
the world below, which She has covered in darkness, for She wishes to be the only brightness in the world. She has climbed the tree of Her world and come to ours,and now wishes to cover ours in darkness. To some,She brings gifts, hoping they will serve Her. Others She directs by fear, or by casting their minds in darkness so She is all they see clearly, I am the one sworn to return light to Her world, but first She must be cast out of ours. She is Luci, the seductress,who brings the diseases that waste. Do not listen to Her. She will draw the light from your youth and cast you into the darkness that will ravage your soul."
He stopped at last. They stared at him, then, without a word or a look between them, turned and ran up the street and were soon lost in the crowds. The Gypsy stood alone, his own words coming back to him.
"So," he said to himself, very slowly and quietly,not noticing those who took wide detours around the oddly dressed man who stood talking to himself. "So,now I know what I am to do. But I cannot do it alone."
14 NOV 20:18
I can see the ravens gather
From the places where they feast on last night's news
I am guessing they'd really rather
Find out exactly who they should accuse
They can't get me 'til I've collected what I'm owed.
So I'll keep searching further up this road.
"UP THE ROAD"
He drove carefully through the snowy streets, his windshield wipers on the low setting to keep the wet flakes cleared from the glass. He hoped it wouldn't stick. Least bit of snow on the streets, traffic got all screwed up. He didn't want to spend all day tomorrow calling for wreckers and investigating people sliding into guardrails. Shit.
Home, he shucked off his uniform and got into his sweats. He added his uniform shirt and pants to the rest of his laundry to make a load and took it down the hall to the laundry room. Set it sloshing.
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