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Authors: Castle Freeman
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little toad. I’d like to — ”
“Okay, Deputy, that’ll do,” I said.
“Well, Sheriff?” Lyle said. “Well? What? You know as well as I do it was Superboy broke into that place. We ought to just go ahead and bust him.”
“We can’t bust him for what I know as well as you do but maybe ain’t true,” I said. “We can’t bust him for what neither one of us can prove. Maybe them Russians could, if they were at home, but we can’t.”
“You can’t,” said Deputy Keen.
“You, neither,” I said, “as long as I’m sheriff.”
“As long as you’re sheriff.”
“As long as I’m sheriff,” I said again.
“As long.”
“And, plus,” I said, “we can’t bust him if we can’t find him.”
“Well, I’ll give you that,” said Deputy Keen. “But we’ll find him. I’ll find him.”
The deputy left, and I sat there and thought things over — didn’t get far with it, though. I decided I didn’t yet have quite enough to think about to make thinking worthwhile. So I got on my legs and went across the street to Addison’s office, there in back of the courthouse. Let’s get some more players on the field, here.
I found Addison standing at the window, looking out. He was wearing his wide red suspenders and a blue bow tie. The country lawyer. All Addison needed was the corncob pipe, and he has a couple of them, too.
“There is a kid down there cutting the grass who I believe must be asleep,” said Addison when I came in. “Asleep or drunk. Look at him.” He pointed out the window. Leo Crocker, on his little tractor, was mowing the lawn beside the courthouse.
“That’s Leo,” I said. “What’s the matter with him?”
“He’s missing half the lawn,” said Addison. “He’s leaving big strips between his cuts. Place is going to look like a god damned corn maze. Leo Who? Is he one of your guys?”
“No, sir,” I said. “My guys don’t cut the grass.”
“I know they don’t, Lucian,” said Addison. “Sit down. How’s our favorite little girl?” He sat behind his desk. I stood.
“Who do you mean?” I asked him.
“Hah,” said Addison. “Hah, hah. A hit, Lucian. A very palpable hit. We’ll make a comic out of you yet. What can I do for you?”
“You can search a title for me,” I said. I told him about the Russians’ house, about the break-in.
“What town?” asked Addison. I told him the town the house was in. Addison was making notes.
“New house?” he asked.
“Pretty. Last five years, I’d guess.”
“What else?”
“Emory O’Connor manages it,” I said. “Probably sold it, too.”
“And you want to know who’s owned it?”
“I want to know who owns it now.”
“Ask Emory,” said Addison.
“I will,” I said. “I’m asking you, too. I like asking people things.”
Addison smiled faintly and nodded. “Going to cost you,” he said. Now we’re getting to the fun part.
“Come on,” I said. “You’re assisting a county officer in the performance of his duty. That’s pro bono.”
“The hell it is,” Addison grinned. “You know what pro bono means in Latin, don’t you, Lucian?”
I shook my head.
“It means, ‘For suckers,’ ” said Addison.
8
SHERIFFING II
“We’ll find him,” says the deputy. Then he says, “I’ll find him.” He might do it, too. Lyle’s sharp, he works hard, and he’s got incentive. He’s got incentive because if people see Lyle putting in the hours, the days, to apprehend an evildoer, if they get the idea that he’s a worker (if, along the way, they maybe get the idea he’s a good deal harder a worker than his boss) — well, that suits Lyle, too.
It suits him because of the election. Hear how he said, “As long?” There’s an election coming up. There’s always an election coming up. Now, I was saying earlier, that means everybody reckons they’ve got a handle on the sheriff in a way they don’t on other cops; it means they want to see you doing your job, every day.
“Okay, Deputy, that’ll do,” I said.
“Well, Sheriff?” Lyle said. “Well? What? You know as well as I do it was Superboy broke into that place. We ought to just go ahead and bust him.”
“We can’t bust him for what I know as well as you do but maybe ain’t true,” I said. “We can’t bust him for what neither one of us can prove. Maybe them Russians could, if they were at home, but we can’t.”
“You can’t,” said Deputy Keen.
“You, neither,” I said, “as long as I’m sheriff.”
“As long as you’re sheriff.”
“As long as I’m sheriff,” I said again.
“As long.”
“And, plus,” I said, “we can’t bust him if we can’t find him.”
“Well, I’ll give you that,” said Deputy Keen. “But we’ll find him. I’ll find him.”
The deputy left, and I sat there and thought things over — didn’t get far with it, though. I decided I didn’t yet have quite enough to think about to make thinking worthwhile. So I got on my legs and went across the street to Addison’s office, there in back of the courthouse. Let’s get some more players on the field, here.
I found Addison standing at the window, looking out. He was wearing his wide red suspenders and a blue bow tie. The country lawyer. All Addison needed was the corncob pipe, and he has a couple of them, too.
“There is a kid down there cutting the grass who I believe must be asleep,” said Addison when I came in. “Asleep or drunk. Look at him.” He pointed out the window. Leo Crocker, on his little tractor, was mowing the lawn beside the courthouse.
“That’s Leo,” I said. “What’s the matter with him?”
“He’s missing half the lawn,” said Addison. “He’s leaving big strips between his cuts. Place is going to look like a god damned corn maze. Leo Who? Is he one of your guys?”
“No, sir,” I said. “My guys don’t cut the grass.”
“I know they don’t, Lucian,” said Addison. “Sit down. How’s our favorite little girl?” He sat behind his desk. I stood.
“Who do you mean?” I asked him.
“Hah,” said Addison. “Hah, hah. A hit, Lucian. A very palpable hit. We’ll make a comic out of you yet. What can I do for you?”
“You can search a title for me,” I said. I told him about the Russians’ house, about the break-in.
“What town?” asked Addison. I told him the town the house was in. Addison was making notes.
“New house?” he asked.
“Pretty. Last five years, I’d guess.”
“What else?”
“Emory O’Connor manages it,” I said. “Probably sold it, too.”
“And you want to know who’s owned it?”
“I want to know who owns it now.”
“Ask Emory,” said Addison.
“I will,” I said. “I’m asking you, too. I like asking people things.”
Addison smiled faintly and nodded. “Going to cost you,” he said. Now we’re getting to the fun part.
“Come on,” I said. “You’re assisting a county officer in the performance of his duty. That’s pro bono.”
“The hell it is,” Addison grinned. “You know what pro bono means in Latin, don’t you, Lucian?”
I shook my head.
“It means, ‘For suckers,’ ” said Addison.
8
SHERIFFING II
“We’ll find him,” says the deputy. Then he says, “I’ll find him.” He might do it, too. Lyle’s sharp, he works hard, and he’s got incentive. He’s got incentive because if people see Lyle putting in the hours, the days, to apprehend an evildoer, if they get the idea that he’s a worker (if, along the way, they maybe get the idea he’s a good deal harder a worker than his boss) — well, that suits Lyle, too.
It suits him because of the election. Hear how he said, “As long?” There’s an election coming up. There’s always an election coming up. Now, I was saying earlier, that means everybody reckons they’ve got a handle on the sheriff in a way they don’t on other cops; it means they want to see you doing your job, every day.
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