by Parrish, PJ
He looked at his watch. “Christ, you’d think they know something by now.”
“What time is it?” Junior asked.
“Almost six.”
A small, pitiful voice came from the corner. “Sheriff, fire my ass…just fire me.”
“Mike, shut up.”
Mike slumped forward, head in his hands. “Man, I didn’t mean to shoot Louis.”
“Enough, Mike.” Dodie turned to Junior. “Go on home. I’ll be needin’ you later. Get some rest.”
Junior ambled to the door and stopped. “Sheriff?”
“Yeah?”
“You think he’s gonna make it?”
“Say a prayer. Junior.”
Junior nodded and left the room. Dodie’s eyes followed him through the large glass window and out the double doors of the emergency room. A second later, the doors opened again and Bob Roberts and Kelly strode in, shoulder to shoulder. They came around the corner and Kelly shoved open the swinging door with the palm of his hand.
“Is he dead?” Kelly asked.
“Fuckin’ Christ,” Dodie mumbled, turning away.
“They ain’t said yet,” Mike offered.
“Mike, shut up.”
“What’s wrong with him?” Kelly asked, gesturing toward Mike.
“I’m a piece of shit, a no-good piece of shit,” Mike said.
“Mike, shut up,” Dodie said. “Walt, what the hell are you doin’ here?”
Kelly unbuttoned his overcoat. “We have some things to talk about, Sam.”
“Like what?”
Kelly looked at Mike then pulled Dodie into a corner. Roberts followed. “In a few hours, this place will be swarming with reporters and TV cameras,” he said. “I want to make sure we have everything straight.”
Dodie’s eyes went from Kelly to Roberts’s bland face and back to Kelly. “Like what?” he repeated.
“I understand Grace made a full confession to you.”
“We talked,” Dodie said, shifting his cigar to his other cheek.
“Look, Sam, don’t pull any shit with me,” Kelly said. “What did she say, exactly?”
“The woman killed her husband, Walt. We all know what he was like. He was a sorry S.O.B., the worst kind. What do you want her to say? That she’s sorry?
“It doesn’t matter what she told you,” Roberts interjected. “We’ve already decided to call it justifiable homicide. Self-defense, for her and Abigail. And that’s the way it’ll read.”
Roberts and Kelly exchanged glances. Dodie watched them carefully. There was something going on here, something he wasn’t able to read. These two had cooked up something and it was starting to smell.
“What about Kincaid?” Dodie asked.
Kelly pursed his mouth. “If he makes it, the murder charge will be dropped, of course. We’ll leave it with felony escape and assault on a police officer.”
“What?”
“Sam, Deputy Cutter is upstairs getting twenty stitches as we speak.”
Dodie took the cigar from his mouth. “Ex-deputy Cutter.”
“Whatever. Kincaid assaulted him in the commission of another felony.”
“For chrissakes, Walt—”
Kelly leaned closer. “I don’t want any lip from you on this, Sam. Kincaid will be charged and rearrested.”
“I suppose you two already done made that decision, too,” Dodie said angrily.
Roberts nodded. “Innocent or guilty, Kincaid committed a felony. He escaped from a county jail.” Roberts shrugged. “If we let everyone who says they’re innocent escape, what kind of system would we have going?”
“Cutter tried to kill him, for God’s sake!”
“Oh, come on, Sam,” Kelly said derisively. “Deputy Cutter is guilty of being stupid, that’s all. To make anything more of it would be ridiculous. He wouldn’t try to kill anyone.” Kelly smiled. “He doesn’t have the brains, for God’s sake.”
Dodie stared at Kelly.
Kelly’s smile faded. Dodie shook his head then turned away, running a hand through his hair. He saw Mike watching from his place on the bench. The young deputy sniffed, running a hand under his nose, and looked away.
Dodie spit into the trash can and turned back to face Kelly. “This’ll ruin him as a cop, you know that.”
Roberts’s gaze wandered away, out the window. Kelly shook his head. “That’s the price he’ll have to pay.”
Before Dodie could answer, the door opened and a nurse poked her head in.
“Sheriff Dodie?”
“Yeah?”
“Would you come with me, please?”
Dodie tossed his cigar in the trash and started across the room. Kelly stepped forward but Dodie put up a hand. “He’s my deputy.”
Dodie followed the nurse down the empty corridor and around a comer. He was met by a weary-looking doctor in surgical scrubs.
“Mornin’, Sam,” the doctor said, pulling off his green cap.
“Mornin’, Doc.” Dodie took a deep breath. “Well?”
“He’s going to be okay. Bullet didn’t do a lot of damage. He’s strong, and very lucky.”
Dodie blinked rapidly several times and let out his breath. “Thank you,”
“He’ll be in recovery for a while. You might as well go home.”
Dodie nodded. “Thanks again. I appreciate it, Doc.” Dodie started back down the hall.
“Sheriff?” the nurse called.
She came up to him and handed him a large plastic bag.
“What’s this?”
“Mr. Kincaid’s personal items. We figured you might need them.”
Dodie took the bag from the nurse and started back down the hall to the waiting room. He paused in the empty corridor, listening to the soft ping of the hospital paging system, thinking about Louis lying on an operating table somewhere nearby. Louis would live, and that was all that really mattered. Dodie let out a long, tired breath. But it wasn’t all that mattered to Louis. If Kelly took away his career now, it would be as if that bullet had passed right through his heart.
Dodie hoisted up the plastic bag and opened it. He looked at the tan sweats, stained with dark brown dried blood. The sight brought a catch to Dodie’s throat.
“Sheriff! He okay?” Mike called from the door.
Dodie closed the bag and took a deep breath. “Yeah, he’s fine. Go on home now, Mike.”
Mike’s head dropped in relief then shot back up. “I’d like to hang around, if it’s okay with you. I’ll head on upstairs and just wait a spell.”
Dodie watched Mike hurry off to the elevator. “Mike!” he shouted.
Mike skidded to a stop. “Yes, sir?”
Dodie tossed him the bag. “Get rid of this, will ya?”
Mike caught it, nodded, and disappeared into the elevator. Dodie pulled open the door of the waiting room. He faced Roberts and Kelly, who abruptly ended their conversation. Dodie reached into his pocket for a fresh cigar.
Kelly came over to him. “So, we got everything straight, Sam?”
Dodie met his eyes and slowly began to shake his head. “I don’t think so, Walt.”
Kelly glanced back at Roberts. “What do you mean?”
“It ain’t right.”
“Right? What ‘ain’t right’?” Kelly said impatiently.
“This whole shitty mess, Walt. Nothing sets right about any of it. Grace goin’ free, Louis locked back up.”
“Are you suggesting that Grace Lillihouse be arrested for murder?” Kelly demanded. “You have any idea how that would look? And what about Abigail? You want to take away both her parents?”
“I ain’t suggestin’ anything,” Dodie said, “other than the fact that Kincaid don’t deserve to lose his job over all this.” Dodie pulled the Zippo out of his pants pocket and flipped it open, his eyes locked on Kelly. “You hear what I’m saying, Walt?”
Dodie flicked at the lighter but it sparked and died. He tried again, then shoved it back in his pocket. Kelly’s jaw tightened and he turned
away, walking silently past Roberts to stand at the window. “I can’t believe you pick this point in your fucking career to grow balls, Sam Dodie.”
Kelly turned. “Do it. Bob.”
Roberts walked to Dodie, slipping a folded paper from his suit pocket. “I’m serving you with this action, effective immediately.”
Dodie looked down at the paper. He took it, unfolded it and read it. Slowly, he looked up, taking the cigar from his mouth.
“‘Malfeasance of duty’?” Dodie said, incredulous.
“It’s not hard to understand, Sam,” Kelly said from his spot at the window. “You had three—no, make it four—unsolved murders. You arrested the wrong man twice. You let a prisoner escape from your jail. You allowed that same prisoner to nearly kill a law enforcement officer as well as break into the Lillihouse home with unauthorized use of force. On top of all that, one of your own deputies then turns around and shoots the prisoner, who was unarmed.”
Dodie stared at Kelly’s back.
“If that isn’t malfeasance, I don’t know what is,” Kelly said.
Dodie looked again at the paper. “I could fight this, Walt,” he said. “I could blow everything wide open, cause a hell of a stink.”
Kelly turned. “But you won’t, Sam. Will you?”
The words lay in the air like thick smoke. Dodie stared at the paper in his hands, at the three ugly words…malfeasance of duty. He knew what it meant—misconduct, wrongdoing. Kelly was going to paint him as an incompetent, a sheriff too stupid even to keep his deputies from shooting each other. Kelly wasn’t just going to drive him from the job he loved—the only thing in the world he truly cared about—he was going to publicly humiliate him. Dodie’s hands began to tremble. Squeezing the paper in his fist, he stuck the unlit cigar back in his mouth and pulled out the lighter again. He clicked it with nervous hands but it was dead. Dodie removed the cigar slowly, facing Kelly.
“So here’s the story,” Kelly said flatly. “Grace will plead ‘no contest’ to justifiable homicide and she and Abby will quietly go on with their lives…”
“No,” Dodie whispered.
“The case against Max will be closed and he will be officially charged with the deaths of Earl and George. However, no one ever needs to know his motive.”
“No,” Dodie said.
“Kincaid will be arrested on felony escape and assault…”
“No,” Dodie said, looking up.
“And those damn bones will be forever buried under the damn name of Willie Johnson so this town can have some peace and quiet.”
“No!” Dodie said.
Kelly and Roberts looked over at him. “What did you say?” Kelly said.
“I said no.” Dodie crumpled the summons and tossed it on the floor.
Kelly let out an angry sigh. “Sam, it’s over.”
“Not yet, Walt,” Dodie said. “Not until I say it is. You want my ass? Well, you can have it. You’ve damn well had it for years anyway. But I ain’t givin’ you Kincaid’s, too.”
“Sam, listen to me,” Kelly said slowly. “The rest of the board of commissioners won’t—”
“No, Walt, you listen to me, dammit.” Dodie threw the cigar in the trash and took three steps, standing only inches from Kelly. “You think you’re holding all the cards here, but I got a few of my own. You’re so fuckin’ worried about this town’s image. Well, the last thing you want is Grace Lillihouse sitting on a stand being grilled by some prosecutor while some punk camera guy’s filmin’ it for CNN. And I don’t think you wanna take the chance that some hot-shot NAACP lawyer is gonna get wind of Cutter’s little stunt.” Dodie glared at Kelly. “Think if they tossed Cutter in jail that he might have some interesting things to say about how you run this town?”
Roberts stepped forward. “Now, look—”
“Back off!” Dodie ordered. “This is between me and him. And another thing about you,” Dodie said, jabbing a finger at Kelly. “Kincaid was on to something. He was close to pinning you to that lynching.”
“You fucking—” Kelly sputtered.
“I don’t know if you killed that boy, Walt,” Dodie said. “But I sure as hell am gettin’ a lot more willin’ to listen. And maybe other folks would be, too.”
“You wouldn’t do this to Grace and this town.” Kelly said.
“Try me.”
Kelly had backed up against the wall, his face red. With a grunt of anger, he pushed aside Dodie’s arm and escaped. He retreated to the other side of the small room, running his hand through his hair. When he turned around, he was icy-calm.
“What do you want, Sam?” he said.
Dodie reached down and picked up the crumpled summons. “A deal.”
“What kind of deal?”
“You let Kincaid go, all charges dropped, the arrest expunged, and I’ll keep my mouth shut.” He fingered the paper nervously.
“I don’t know if I have the connections to do that,” Kelly said quickly.
“Bullshit, Walt.”
Kelly’s eyes darted to Roberts. Roberts nodded subtly.
“What about Cutter?” Kelly asked.
“I won’t touch him,” Dodie said bitterly.
“What guarantee do I have you’ll keep your end of the deal?” Kelly said.
“You’d have my word, Walt.”
“It’s not enough.”
Dodie drew in a deep breath. “What more can I give you?”
“Your resignation.”
Dodie stared at Kelly.
“I’ll give you Kincaid,” Kelly said, “but I’m tired of your attitude, Sam. We’re all tired of it, all the board members. You’re not the kind of man we want in this job. You never were, really.
But I thought we could mold the man to the job. I thought the name was enough. I was wrong.”
Dodie turned away. The faint buzz of the fluorescent light echoed in his head.
“Sam,” Kelly said quietly. ‘Take the deal. You’ve lost anyway.”
“All right.”
“What?”
“All right,” Dodie said softly, without turning. “You’ll have it after Kincaid gets out of here and on his way.”
Kelly’s eyes slipped to Roberts and then back to Dodie.
“Done,” Kelly said.
Dodie walked slowly to the window. A few moments later, he heard the door close. It was quiet. He stood, looking out at the gray parking lot. The snow had melted already, leaving ugly rivers of mud and water running through the pocked asphalt. Dodie watched Kelly and Roberts hurry to their cars and pull away, the exhaust pipes belching out gray plumes of smoke in the cold air.
He reached into his pocket for a cigar. The pocket was empty. He padded his other pockets. Nothing. His fingers closed around the Zippo lighter in his left pants pocket and he pulled it out. He looked at its scratched steel then idly turned it over in his hand, until his fingers found the initials etched there. He stared out the window, gently rubbing the I.D. etched in the dull metal.
The small white room was dark, except for the moonlight and the ghostly green lights on the monitors over the bed. Dodie was sprawled in a plastic chair to the left of Louis’s bed, his head back, his eyes closed. But he was awake, as he had been for hours, listening to the beeps of the machines behind Louis’s bed.
“Oh, Jesus…”
Dodie sat up, grabbing the bed’s rail. “Louis?”
Louis opened his eyes and tried to focus, blinking in the near darkness. Dodie touched his shoulder. “You want I should turn on the light?”
“No.”
Louis closed his eyes again, wincing. “Jesus Christ…it hurts.”
“You want the nurse, Louis?”
Louis took a deep breath and nodded. Dodie pressed the call button. Louis looked at the ceiling, waiting for the pain to lessen. “Man, who shot me?” Louis whispered.
“Mike did.”
Louis laughed softly, then winced again, his palm on his belly. “God…”
“I’m sorry, Louis.”
“I didn’t know you gave Mike bullets.”
“He feels real bad, Louis. Jus’ got excited, that’s all. I had to pry him off that there chair a few hours ago. Been here for hours.”
Louis looked up at Dodie. For a second, neither spoke, and finally Dodie looked down, both hands on the rail. “What a sorry mess I made of this,” Dodie said.
“I didn’t help, running like that.”
“No, you didn’t. But I can’t say I blame you.”
They were quiet again for a second. The nurse came in and asked Louis if he was in pain. When he nodded, she said she would return with a painkiller and a sleeping pill. After she left, Louis closed his eyes and took a shallow breath.
“They’re going to charge me, aren’t they?” he said.
Dodie hesitated. “They talked about it, but then decided to drop the charges. I think they just decided maybe it wasn’t worth it. They was more worried about Grace, I reckon.”
Louis swallowed dryly. “Sheriff, can I have some water?”
Dodie looked around, saw the plastic pitcher and poured Louis a small cup. “You don’t want much. Just wet your lips.”
When Louis tried to sit up, Dodie slipped a hand behind his neck and held the cup to his lips. He took a sip and lay back down, grimacing.
“What about Grace? How’s she doing?”
“She’s okay, I reckon. She told us everything. She also sent them flowers there.”
Louis looked over to see a vase of white lilies on the table. The same flowers he had seen at Eugene’s memorial.
“What’s going to happen to her. Sheriff?”
“Ain’t no thin’ going to happen to her. And I suppose that’s okay, too.” Dodie met Louis’s eyes. “That okay with you?”
“Part of me says no. But the other part…Jesus, Sheriff, I don’t know why she didn’t kill that bastard years ago.” Louis closed his eyes. The pain had subsided some and he let his mind wander.
Last night was a blur of lights and tears. He saw Abby and Grace, pitiful in their embrace, he could hear Junior shouting at him and could still feel the cold air on his face when he opened the door. The crack of the shot echoed through him and he forced his eyes open.
