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Authors: Barry Friedman
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make it.
The sheriff’s voice came blasting through the
receiver. “Shit no, I don’t think we need the lab unit back here! Do you know
how many people’s been tramplin’ down ever’ bush up and down the goddam road?
There were kids there on bicycles, motor scooters, mopeds. Shit, there were
even a couple on skateboards, for chrissake. Skateboards on a dirt road! I
ain’t gonna waste their time and the county’s money. Besides, I told you, we
got the guy already. Lemme talk to Raymond.”
Maharos handed the phone back to the deputy and
watched his face turn to scarlet before he said a demurred, “Yessir,” and hung
up.
Raymond climbed into the driver’s seat. “He wants
I should bring you back now.”
They rode back in silence.
At the County Office Building Maharos and Fiala
retrieved their car and left without returning to the sheriff’s office.
NINE
Early June in Ohio. While Fiala drove from New
Philadelphia back to Youngstown, Maharos sat alongside gazing at the landscape.
The gently rolling hills were green with freshly sprouting alfalfa and hay and
corn. Every few miles they passed farmers riding tractors plowing fields
alongside the interstate highway. Traffic on I 77 was light with a few cars and
trucks. In cars or RV’s they passed, kids pressed their noses against the
windows or waved at the detectives. School was out and families were on the
road towing their cars or boats behind the tall RV’s.
Maharos watched the shield-shaped signs flash by.
On top, the red background with white letters that said, “Interstate.” Below, a
blue background and white numbers that read,”77.”
Near Youngstown, a lawyer had been shot dead and
left in his car on a side road off Interstate 77. Near New Philadelphia, a hay
and feed dealer had been shot dead and left in the bed of his pickup truck on a
side road off Interstate 77. A month apart. Exactly a month apart.
Logikos . Maharos could hear the deep voice of his
father, a man who had less than a fifth grade education in the old country. Who
knew that Pi was the sixteenth letter of his alphabet, but knew nothing of its
mathematical significance, yet knew his plow made a circular furrow three times
longer than the distance across the center of the same circle. Think. Reason.
These you don’t learn from books, Alexander, he would say. My testicles, he
would say, gave you what my father and his father got from their
great-great-great grandfathers, men named Socrates and Aristotle. Logikos . Coincidence is a lazy man’s way
of thinking. There had to be a connection between the two events that appeared
to be separated in time and space.
Fiala glanced at Maharos out of the corner of his
eye. “When you don’t say nothing for half an hour, you’re either asleep or
thinking. You ain’t asleep.”
“I’m thinking.”
“I know. You’re thinking the same thing I’m
thinking.”
His eyes half-closed, Maharos nodded. “Uh-huh.
Maybe the Youngstown P.D. could save one salary and get rid of one of us. No
sense duplicating.”
“Better be you. I need the dough.”
Maharos said, “When we get back, call the Crime
Lab and ask them to send us copies of their findings in the New Philly case. I
want them to compare their ballistics with ours on Horner. I also want to see
the autopsy report on Hamberger.”
“You want me to call Sheriff King Kong and ask
him for it?”
“I guess we’ll have to go through him, much as I
hate to.”
Fiala said, “Want to send the Mobile Techs down
to cast that tire track, take a closer look at the bush?”
“You mean on our own? Forget about Anderson?”
“Yeah.”
Maharos shook his head. “Nah. You know who’ll be
getting the bill, don’t you?”
“The city.”
“Damned right. Ed Bragg’s over budget now. He’s
not gonna sit still for that. Maybe Anderson is right. There have been so many
people through that dirt road, there’s no way to know who made the tracks.”
* * *
Lieutenant
The sheriff’s voice came blasting through the
receiver. “Shit no, I don’t think we need the lab unit back here! Do you know
how many people’s been tramplin’ down ever’ bush up and down the goddam road?
There were kids there on bicycles, motor scooters, mopeds. Shit, there were
even a couple on skateboards, for chrissake. Skateboards on a dirt road! I
ain’t gonna waste their time and the county’s money. Besides, I told you, we
got the guy already. Lemme talk to Raymond.”
Maharos handed the phone back to the deputy and
watched his face turn to scarlet before he said a demurred, “Yessir,” and hung
up.
Raymond climbed into the driver’s seat. “He wants
I should bring you back now.”
They rode back in silence.
At the County Office Building Maharos and Fiala
retrieved their car and left without returning to the sheriff’s office.
NINE
Early June in Ohio. While Fiala drove from New
Philadelphia back to Youngstown, Maharos sat alongside gazing at the landscape.
The gently rolling hills were green with freshly sprouting alfalfa and hay and
corn. Every few miles they passed farmers riding tractors plowing fields
alongside the interstate highway. Traffic on I 77 was light with a few cars and
trucks. In cars or RV’s they passed, kids pressed their noses against the
windows or waved at the detectives. School was out and families were on the
road towing their cars or boats behind the tall RV’s.
Maharos watched the shield-shaped signs flash by.
On top, the red background with white letters that said, “Interstate.” Below, a
blue background and white numbers that read,”77.”
Near Youngstown, a lawyer had been shot dead and
left in his car on a side road off Interstate 77. Near New Philadelphia, a hay
and feed dealer had been shot dead and left in the bed of his pickup truck on a
side road off Interstate 77. A month apart. Exactly a month apart.
Logikos . Maharos could hear the deep voice of his
father, a man who had less than a fifth grade education in the old country. Who
knew that Pi was the sixteenth letter of his alphabet, but knew nothing of its
mathematical significance, yet knew his plow made a circular furrow three times
longer than the distance across the center of the same circle. Think. Reason.
These you don’t learn from books, Alexander, he would say. My testicles, he
would say, gave you what my father and his father got from their
great-great-great grandfathers, men named Socrates and Aristotle. Logikos . Coincidence is a lazy man’s way
of thinking. There had to be a connection between the two events that appeared
to be separated in time and space.
Fiala glanced at Maharos out of the corner of his
eye. “When you don’t say nothing for half an hour, you’re either asleep or
thinking. You ain’t asleep.”
“I’m thinking.”
“I know. You’re thinking the same thing I’m
thinking.”
His eyes half-closed, Maharos nodded. “Uh-huh.
Maybe the Youngstown P.D. could save one salary and get rid of one of us. No
sense duplicating.”
“Better be you. I need the dough.”
Maharos said, “When we get back, call the Crime
Lab and ask them to send us copies of their findings in the New Philly case. I
want them to compare their ballistics with ours on Horner. I also want to see
the autopsy report on Hamberger.”
“You want me to call Sheriff King Kong and ask
him for it?”
“I guess we’ll have to go through him, much as I
hate to.”
Fiala said, “Want to send the Mobile Techs down
to cast that tire track, take a closer look at the bush?”
“You mean on our own? Forget about Anderson?”
“Yeah.”
Maharos shook his head. “Nah. You know who’ll be
getting the bill, don’t you?”
“The city.”
“Damned right. Ed Bragg’s over budget now. He’s
not gonna sit still for that. Maybe Anderson is right. There have been so many
people through that dirt road, there’s no way to know who made the tracks.”
* * *
Lieutenant
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