The lady at the desk turned bright red and began to shuffle papers. Reynolds smiled at her, said, "Why don't you get some coffee, Charlene?"
Charlene opened her desk drawer, took out a cup that had some kind of cartoon on it, scuttled in one place for a moment, her shoes making a lot of noise, like a poodle with overlong toe-nails turning in a circle. Finally, she disappeared without a word from the room.
Reynolds turned back to us. He still had that nice smile. "She goes to a lot of church. Words like dick cause her consternation."
"Ah," I said.
"Consternation," Leonard said. "That's a big word for a police officer, ain't it?"
"Maybe," said Officer Reynolds, placing the file on top of the cabinet. "I also have a few nice phrases. Like 'The nigra died slowly and painfully after a methodical beating.' "
"Nigra is one of those words that always bothers me," Leonard said. "It's not quite respectful. Like 'Negro,' but the talker can't seem to go all the way and say what he or she really wants to say, which is 'nigger.' "
"I work for law enforcement," said Reynolds. "I am one third of the Grovetown Police Force. Me, the Chief, and Charlene, we're not allowed to call you a goddamn shit-eating nigger. That wouldn't be right. Sir."
"It's certainly nice to talk to a public servant," Leonard said, "but your boss, he does say nigger. We've heard him."
Reynolds didn't respond. He spent some time checking Leonard out, and Leonard checked him in return.
Reynolds was larger by a head than Leonard with wider shoulders. Big in the belly but hard-looking, with massive arms and tree trunk legs. Leonard isn't all that big, but he's got the look. One that tells anyone with half a brain that he can be dangerous. But there was a part of me that knew this Reynolds character was no lightweight either. He had the look too, like a man who had seen the elephant and seen it well, and maybe even put his arm up its ass and pulled its intestines out.
He and Leonard went toe-to-toe, I'd put my money on Leonard. But maybe because he was a sentimental favorite and I knew I'd help him.
Reynolds put his thick fingers together and pressed and popped them. He leaned against the file cabinet, still smiling, one hand resting on the butt of his revolver. His fingers looked like thick roots, his knuckles like lug bolts. He said: "I hear you two gentlemen are acting like you're some kind of law or something."
"We heard the same thing about y'all," Leonard said.
Reynolds's smile changed just enough to allow his top lip to snarl. "You think I can't arrest you for messing with a sworn-in law officer? You think I won't get tired of this and chunk your ass behind bars?"
"What's the crime?" Leonard said. "Greater wit than your own?"
Reynolds's face showed he had lost his sense of humor, but he never got to let us know how much. A door at the back of the office opened and Chief Cantuck came out. He was hatless and sweaty-looking. His nose was red and highly porous today, like maybe he'd had a little too much Christmas cheer the night before. Way he was sweating, you'd have thought it was a hundred degrees. His belly hadn't gotten any smaller, and neither had his ruptured testicle. He looked as if he might blow a major hose at any moment.
"Chief," Leonard said. "My man. How's it hanging? . . . Oh, I see."
"They think they're funny," Reynolds said.
"Hey, I've been real quiet," I said. "Leonard's the one talking."
"I've already caught their act," Cantuck said. "It wasn't any better the last time."
"You want me to lock 'em up for a while?" Reynolds said. "Just so they can hone their material?"
"No crime in being an ass," Cantuck said. "Reckon you two are here for some reason other than trying to outwit my officer or make fun of my balls?"
"Both are easy," Leonard said, "but we're here on official business."
"All right," Cantuck said. "I'll play. Come in the office."
As we followed Cantuck, Reynolds said, "By the way, nigger. I'll remember you."
Leonard paused, said without the slightest hint of anger, "In case you might forget, I'll leave my business card with the secretary."
Cantuck's office was relatively neat. His wall was covered in photographs of a boy, who from his wasted appearance and resemblance to Cantuck, without a swollen nut, had to be the son he'd told me about.
There was a middle-aged woman in some of the photos with the boy, and she looked plain and worn-out, like her daily job was the Augean Stables.
On Cantuck's desk were pictures of himself, the boy, and the wife, as well as a plastic container backed by a cardboard frame for donations to MS. It had some change in it, and a couple of bills had been rolled and stuffed inside. On the left-hand side of his desk was a can with a label that suggested you should "Give to the Handicapped," and on the other side of the desk was a can that pleaded for money for cancer research.
It was very odd, the cans and the cardboard donation container being there. I wondered who had put the money in the cardboard container. The Chief? Reynolds? Charlene? Assorted prisoners? Had Florida dropped in some coins?
Cantuck sat down behind his desk. We took chairs on the other side. Leonard placed his hat on the edge of the desk and used a finger to turn it from time to time.
Cantuck picked a picture of the boy off his desk and held it in his lap and looked at it. He put it back. From the way he moved, I could tell it was an unconscious ritual.
"Your son?" I said.
"Yeah," he said. "What do y'all want?"
"We want to make an official report," I said. "Concerning Florida Grange. We fear foul play."
"And, of course, we here in Grovetown are the culprits, just because a lot of us are segregationist?"
"She was here," I said. "She's not here now."
"So, she's shacked up with some buck somewhere. Check out the Southside of town. Ten miles out. That's the colored section."
"We were sort of hoping you'd do that," I said. "It is your job."
Cantuck studied us. He unsnapped his shirt pocket and took out a tightly rolled package of chewing tobacco. He unrolled it, opened it, pinched out a wad, put it in his mouth, started chewing. He chewed slowly, as if activating brain cells.
"You gonna fill out the papers for a missing person?" he said around the tobacco.
"Yeah," I said.
"I doubt you need to," he said.
"You saying we fill it out you won't look?" Leonard asked.
"No. I'm saying I doubt you need to. She'll turn up. My guess is she's oiling some coon's pole out niggertown."
"Careful now," Leonard said. "Words like that, you might hurt my feelings."
"Shit," Cantuck said. "I wouldn't want that. Let me put it to you straight, numb nuts. You fill out a report, that gives me work to do. Well, I don't want work to do. Not when I think it's bullshit work. But no matter what you may think, you fill out that report, I'll look for her. I'll find her if she needs finding. I'm just a small-town cop, and as you both know, not very smart and I got a ruptured turnip. But I got a job here. The law says it includes whites and colored. I don't have nothing against colored. You being an exception, Smartest Nigger in the World . . . that is how you introduced yourself, isn't it?"
"That's right," Leonard said. "But when it comes out of your mouth, it stinks. My name's Leonard. Leonard Pine."
"What you want . . . Leonard ... is me to respect you because you're black," Cantuck said. "Not because you're worth a shit. You want me to be polite and sweet when all you've done, the both of you, from the first moment I've seen you, is come on with an attitude. An attitude that says: We're better than you. We're smarter than you. We're a couple of hip-hop guys ... I believe that's a term they use, isn't it?"
"Close enough," Leonard said. "But not around my house."
"Not once," Cantuck said, "have you treated me with the respect deserving of any human being, or someone of authority. Yet, you expect me to be all sugar and syrup and suck your dick."
"You did sort of threaten us," I said. "You even pulled your gun on me. That
seems to have faded from your memory."
"I don't deny it. But you fucked with me, treated me stupid, then wanted me to give you a hand job and smile. I don't think your mamas would be proud of the way you two have conducted yourselves."
To tell the truth, neither did I.
"There was that talk about the fire department and being burned up with white trash and a nigger," I said. "Remember that?"
"I wanted you scared, out of here, before somethin' happened we'd both be sorry for. You two being sorry while it was happening, and me after I heard about it—for about five or ten minutes, anyway. You see, it's not bad enough I got you two pencil dicks, I got the Texas Rangers now."
"Texas Rangers?" I said, and thought I looked pretty innocent. Charlie damn sure wasn't fucking around. He'd gotten on the horn the minute I hung up.
"This nig hung himself here," Cantuck said. "Word's got around it ain't no suicide. Maybe that was your gal, Florida did that, got "em stirred. Maybe it was you. But about five minutes ago I got the call. They're sending in some Ranger dick to look things over. Show our not-so-smart three-person police force how the horse ate the apple. I don't like it. I don't like you. I wish you were both home. I wish your daddies had pulled out right before comin'. That way, the two of you wouldn't be nothing to me or nobody else."
We sat for a moment. I said, "Can we fill out the missing person report now?"
"When you do, why don't you head back to where you come from. Find someone else to insult and make fun of. I can't help my balls, boys, and I can't help that I believe the Bible insists that blacks and whites not intermingle, outside of work and a few laughs together."
"Shit," Leonard said, "you and me ain't been laughing none at I all."
"Bottom line is," Cantuck said, "when I'm not worked up, I'm not so bad. And I can do my job. You leave, I won't be worked up. She's around here, I'll find her. She's gone somewhere, I might find that out. Black and white ain't gonna have anything to do with that."
We sat in silence for a moment. Cantuck reached down be-j hind his desk, came up with a stained coffee can. He spat a stream of tobacco into it, put the can back. Some of the juice ran over his bottom lip and down his chin. He wiped it away with his sleeve. He looked at his sleeve. "Bad habit," he said. "Wife hates it. My boy used to call it slime. Let's get a report for you to I fill out. And Smartest Nigger?"
"Yassuh, Massa, Chief," Leonard said.
"Stay away from Officer Reynolds. He's not a nice man like ] me. And don't forget your hat."
Cantuck stood up and we stood up with him. Cantuck said, I "Before you boys go, would you mind dropping a coin or so in these charities? I try to support them, get others to do like-I wise."
We were blank for a moment, then slowly Leonard opened his I wallet, took out a dollar bill and rolled it tight and pushed it I through the slot of the MD container. I did the same.
We went into the office where the secretary once again sat behind her desk. The Chief followed us out. Reynolds wasn't there. Cantuck had Charlene give us a missing person's report. I filled it out and gave it back.
Cantuck picked it up the moment I laid it down. "All right . . . Mr. Hap Collins," he said, reading my name off the report. "Me and this investigation are open for business."
He went back to his office and closed the door.
Charlene looked at the closed door, looked at Leonard.
"Like the hair," Leonard told her.
Chapter 15
When we left Cantuck's office, we saw Officer Reynolds standing in the hallway near the exit, adjusting a plastic rain cover on his straw hat. He turned and looked at us. He carefully withdrew a Tootsie Roll Pop from his shirt pocket, unwrapped it, and tossed the wrapper on the floor. He stuck the pop in his mouth, winked at us, went out into the rain.
I said, "Think you could take him, you had to?"
"I don't know," Leonard said. "I don't know the both of us with clubs could take him. But the trick is, we don't let him know we think that."
"Frankly, I don't think it matters what we think."
"Know what? I sorta think he's cute."
"Oh, shit."
"I'm not kidding, Hap. I like the way he sucks that Tootsie Roll."
"He's a thug."
"I didn't say I liked him. I just wouldn't kick him out of bed for eating crackers. Tootsie Roll Pops either."
"Jesus, Leonard. He wouldn't get in bed with you unless it was to tie you to it and set it on fire."
"Wow. Really think so?"
Leonard chuckled. I picked up the Tootsie Roll wrapper and put it in the trash container by the door. Leonard put on his hat and we went outside.
We got drenched going out to the car. Leonard cranked the engine, turned on the heater.
"I feel kinda bad about Cantuck," I said. "I wanted us to push him, see if he knew more than he was letting on, but I feel kinda mean-spirited."
"Hell," Leonard said. "I did all the pushing."
"Making fun of a man's balls is pretty low, you know?"
"I admit I feel a little bit like a horse's ass myself. All those pictures of his kid, weird shit with the charities. I feel sorry for him. What did you tell me the boy died of?"
"Muscular dystrophy."
"Yeah, well, just because he loved his son and likes charities, doesn't mean he isn't a worthless dick."
I could feel my wet jacket sticking to Leonard's upholstery. The heater was slow to work. My stomach grumbled from hunger and need of coffee.
I said, "I hate to sound like you, but just because he's a dick doesn't mean he's a real villain."
"Jesus," Leonard said, "you're right. I'm starting to sound like a knee-jerk liberal asshole. I been around you too long."
"When I was growing up, Leonard—"
"Oh, Christ, another parable."
"Listen. My dad had the worst rhetoric you ever heard. He could get so worked up over 'the niggers,' he would vibrate."
"I've known people in my family to be the same way about whites."
"Yeah, but you know, one time I went down to my dad's garage, and there were a bunch of little black kids there, laughing, and my dad was giving them five-dollar bills. Apiece. It wasn't like we had lots of money, and when the kids were gone, I said, 'Dad, what are you doing?,' and he said, 'I was afraid they might be hungry.'
"Dad hated the black race, but liked them as individuals. He hated some as individuals too, but you get my point."
"I do."
"I'm not defending his racism. I detest it. I think that's one reason I hate it so much, my old man being that way, and otherwise being just the kind of man I wanted to be."
"Just because your old man was a good man, does that mean Cantuck is? It's hard to believe he'd go out of his way to worry about some black girl that might have gotten killed."
"You knew my daddy, it would be hard to believe he would give five dollars apiece to a handful of black kids too."
"We're not dealing with your daddy, though. This Cantuck, we know nothing about him. Say he wouldn't do anything to hurt Florida, he's still convinced she's out shacking up. Blacks are all a bunch of animals to him. He figures all we want to do is eat and fuck."
"That's all I want to do."
"Maybe that's all anyone wants to do. As for the Chief, he might not swerve to hit an animal, but he still knows he's dodging one. And when it comes to blacks, well, he might not go out of his way to do one harm, but he wouldn't expect anything of them but the most basic of animal behavior. Like being shacked up somewhere."
"So, we don't know any more than we knew when we went in."
"We know he's got an officer that isn't a nice person. Even B Cantuck says so. And I know this. I'm one hungry sonofabitch. I say we go over to the cafe and get breakfast."
"You know how that'll go."
"We came here to be maggots in the shit. Squirm around, see if we can find what we want. What better way to stir the shit than to jump right in."
"I like the more casual appr
oach. One where I don't have to get doo-doo on me."
"You sit here and be casual. I'm hungry, I'm wet, and I'm cold. The cafe is bound to be warm, and they've got coffee. I'll bring you some."
"We really ought to go over to the black section of town. Ask around there."
"We will."
"What's wrong with now?"
"You're stalling, Hap."
"Just as long as I can."
Leonard cut the engine, put his hand on the door handle, turned and looked at me.
"Oh, all right," I said. "What's a few stitches among friends?"
Chapter 16
Leonard was right. The cafe was warm. It was also crowded. The brothers who I had warned about the ants were there, and their mother, of course. There were also a lot of burly types, and old men. The blue-haired woman I had seen at Tim's filling station was also there. She was sitting with an elderly man who, from the look on his face, appeared to be dealing with some sort of digestion problem.
I could see a gray-haired black cook through the order window at the back. He had on a white cook's hat, a stained white shirt, and lots of sweat. He hadn't been working Christmas Day when I was here. He didn't wave as we came in. Neither did anyone else. The mother of the sweet boys who I had spoken with on Christmas smiled at me, the sort you give someone you know probably has a short time to live. Or maybe she just loved me and my little friend.
The cook looked at Leonard, shook his head, went to furiously scraping at something out of our sight.
We went over to a couple of stools at the end of the counter, sat down in front of a rack holding salt and pepper shakers, a bottle of ketchup and a bottle of Tabasco sauce.
There was a plump middle-aged man sitting next to Leonard. He was smoking a cigar. He blew out smoke, rolled up the newspaper he was reading, put it under his arm, picked up his coffee cup, found a seat beside another man in a booth at the back.
"Did I fart?" Leonard said.
The smiling woman came over. She looked nervous. "Would you gentlemen like something to go?"
This, of course, was the better idea, and I'll be honest, I was scared, all those fuckers looking at us, licking their chops, but I'd seen too many cowboy movies, and a cowboy doesn't run.
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