The Clay Head Benediction

by Marty Rafter

magician stands perched majestically along the railing. Then his cape starts to flutter, and there is a palpable sense of nervousness in the theatre as it becomes clear that he intends to jump. And the assembled gasp, as he does jump, and all of his clothes fall gently to the floor. And the magician has become a hawk again, and is perched atop a bank of lights at the top of the room. And the hawk takes flight and makes lazy circles around the domed ceiling of the auditorium, and then, he gracefully flies down and plucks one of the doves from the stage. And the crowd erupts with shocked applause. And soon they are on their feet, but I am glued to my seat in horror, and their cheers are deafening, and then, I am awake….and it is 11:30.

  The bike rental concession closes at 2pm, and with almost no time to spare, I quickly get dressed and go to the laundry room to restore the bicycle trailer to its original condition. The repair takes a while, and, by the time I am done, I only have an hour to get the bike back to the concession. I arrive there panicked with only ten minutes to spare, but the return goes quickly, and when it is done, I walk back home along the Jail trial again. Even though the afternoon is cold, there are still a lot of people out on the trail jogging and riding bikes. Tonight though, in the dark, it is likely to be very different. The thought of it actually fills me with a bit of dread, but it is a necessary roadblock in the path to final completion of the project.

  For some reason, though, it already feels like it is over. It is what my father used to call “eighty percent syndrome.” It’s the same reason that there are so many professional students with unwritten dissertations. This won’t be my Kubla Khan though; I will walk back on this trail even if it means risking being mugged or worse. I have come this far. There will probably be dreams though when it is done, but for now, I will go home to rest. Then, when it is dark, and the New Year’s party is at is at its zenith, I will return, and execute my plan. Nocturnal shape shifting magicians be damned.

  When I finally get home, I shower and shave and eat and do all of the things I had planned to do in the morning before I overslept. Then, I lay out my clothes for the evening. I selected something relatively formal: my navy winter coat and a dress shirt with a tie, and heavy work style khaki pants. If by some unfortunate chance, I am stopped by the police while I am trying to put out the head, I will look official enough to give a plausible explanation of why I am walking around in the pre-dawn hours carrying a paper mache head. The best explanation that I can think of would be that the head was a party decoration, and that I have been contacted to move it. I think that is enough of an excuse to avert any further inquiry. After resting for a while, I decide to get dressed. I put on my pants and heavy socks and shoes, and am buttoning my shirt when I hear the buzz from the building’s front door. I push the button in my apartment to unlock the door, and wait for my visitor. I presume that the person at the door is most likely Ben, or maybe another tenant who forgot their keys. I wait a few minutes, and nobody arrives. Then the buzzer sounds again, so I repeat the process. After another two minutes, nobody arrives at my door, and I do not hear the front door open. Then, the buzzer sounds again, so finally, I decide to go downstairs.

  When I get there, there are bulky men in suits standing on the porch. I open the door, and briefly inspect the latch mechanism, when one of the men says to me.

  “Sir, what is your name, please?”

  “Luke”

  “Luke Kolbe?” The other one says

  “Yes.”

  Then, the first one, reaches under his overcoat, and frees a lanyard from around his neck. At the end of the lanyard, is a badge with a police identification in a laminated sleeve on the back.

  “I’m Detective Kane” says the large sandy haired man “and this is Detective Flowers” he says gesturing to the heavy set bespectacled black man standing to his left. “We’re with the Pittsburgh Police. Would you be willing to take a ride with us down to the station to answer a few questions?”

  “I guess.” I say “Can you tell me what it is about.”

  “Your name came up in the course of an investigation, and we would like to talk to you a little bit” says Detective Flowers.

  “Am I under arrest?”

  “No, you are not under arrest.” Says Detective Kane.

  “So, I can refuse, then” I ask

  “You can, but it would be a big help if you didn’t”

  “I’ll need to go upstairs and lock my apartment”

  “Ok. “ says Detective Kane, then he turns to his partner and says,”Chris, will you go up with him?”

  And so, I walk up to my apartment, and I go inside, and the detective who followed me says, “Where are you going?”

  “I was going to get my coat”

  “Oh, don’t get anything. The car is already warmed up”

  “Will you give me a ride back here when we’re done?” I ask

  “We will figure something out” says the detective.

  And so, I am lead, coatless, to a running car where I sit in the back with the two detectives. On the ride, I ask several times what the nature of the investigation is, and each time, one of the men offers that I will get more details by the time we get to the station, and they drive in silence until we park in an underground garage and they ride with me in an elevator up to a vacant floor in the police department where a forgotten Christmas tree presides over a bank of unoccupied cubicles. Then, the detectives lead me into a small conference room where I am offered a seat, and the detectives leave. After an hour of me sitting there imagining all of the possible reasons why I would be in a spending New Year’s eve in the conference room of the police station, the men return without their jackets on. They sit down and Detective Flowers places a manila envelope in front of him.

  “Do you have any idea why you are here?” Asks Detective Kane

  “Actually, no. Remember? I asked you a bunch of times when we were in the car, and you promised that you would tell me when we got here”

  The men look at me for a while, and then Detective Flowers takes a drink from a Styrofoam coffee cup. “Can I offer you some coffee?” He asks

  “No, but you could tell me why I’m here”

  So then, Detective Flowers opens up the manila envelope and removes a large photograph and places it in front of me. “Do you recognize that object?” He asks

  “Yes.” I say

  “Do you mind telling us what it is?” Says Detective Kane

  “It is a wooden box” I say

  “..And why do you recognize it?”

  “It looks like one I made” I say

  The men look at each other and sit silent for a while.

  “When did you last see this box?” Detective Kane asks

  “Just now. In this photograph.” I say

  “How about before that” says the other detective “when did you physically see it last”

  “When I left it along side Building 1 in Gateway Center early this morning”

  The men look at each other, and then fall silent for a moment, then, Detective Flowers says “about what time was that?”

  “I don’t remember exactly” I say “But I can spare you guys a lot of work here. I could just write a statement…give you the whole story, would that help?”

  So then, Detective Kane leaves the room and returns with a yellow legal pad and a pen which he places in front of me, and both men stand up to leave the room. “We’ll be back when you’re done” he says

  So, I write my statement. This is what I write:

  My name is Luke Kolbe. I am a real estate agent and a building superintendent for Reinhold Realty. In my free time, I like to listen to music and read. I also like to make things which I give away. One of the things that I make is clay heads. I have given many of them away, and also hid some in places for people to find. I just completed my largest project ever, a paper mache head. I put that head into a wooden box, which I also made, alongside Building 1 in Gateway Center. Making t
hings and giving them away is my way of bringing a sense of wonder into the world. I have some underlying philosophical reason about why I think that is necessary which I don’t think is relevant to your investigation. However, I fully admit responsibility for the crime of littering for which I am guilty, and I accept all of the potential repercussions for my role in that specific crime.

  Then, I sit for a while and wait for the detectives to return, but they take a long time doing so. When they finally do return, Detective Flowers picks up my confession, reads it over, and makes a face, and then hands the tablet to the other detective, who takes a while reading the statement, and then tosses it back onto the table.

  “Littering...is that what you think this is?” Says Detective Kane

  “Sure… like Alice’s Restaurant right?” I say

  “What is Alice’s Restaurant?” Says Detective Flowers

  “It is some bullshit that this guy is saying because he thinks he is so much smarter than everyone” says Detective Kane

  “You haven’t been watching the news… Have you?” Asks Detective Flowers

  “No? Why?” I say

  “Because if you had…you would know that your little stunt put a lot of people at risk. An unidentifiable package right before a major event for the city isn’t littering. It is major issue for the police. We had the bomb squad out...a bunch of investigators who were supposed to have the day off. Federal law enforcement….”

  “Over a box?” I say

  “Not