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Authors: Pete Dexter
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policy, and
mortgaged himself forever to everybody there. He said, "It was
the cherry picker."
They all looked at him, he looked at the little cop.
"The U-bolt come loose," he said. He moved over to the boom
and lifted the U-bolt. The cable bowed. The bolt didn't look as heavy
as it was, and he handed it to the little cop the way the cop might
of handed his gun over to his boy, so he could feel the weight and
see it was serious.
"Usually," Peets said, "the cable and
the bolt are tied to the boom when we're not usin' it.” He picked
up the smaller cable they used to tie the cable to the boom and
handed it to the cop too. "The tie must of come loose, the cable
swung out, and the U-bolt hit the boy right in the back of the head."
The cop looked at the U-bolt, the boom, the cable in
his hand, trying to see it. One of the men on the crew was nodding.
"That's what happened," he said. "I
seen the whole thing. The kid never knew what hit him."
The cop turned to look at him, then he looked at the
rest of them. "Anybody else?"
Peets waited, and then somebody else said he'd seen
it too, and then a couple of the others said they almost seen it.
Gary Sample had eyes to say something different, but he didn't. Old
Lucy just sat in the dirt, the pipe right there by his side and, as
far as Peets could tell, he didn't hear any of it.
The little cop walked from the cherry picker to the
spot where the body fell, counting his steps. He estimated heights
and distances and asked questions about Leon's job. "He was a
bricklayer," Peets said. Shit, he might as well lie all the way.
The little cop moved here and there, satisfying
himself. His partner stood in one place, watching Peets, studying the
rest of them too. The little cop turned to him. "Let's go get
the groceries," he said.
His partner's name tag said Eisenhower. The little
cop walked toward the hospital entrance, Eisenhower stayed back. He
had been watching Peets about fifteen minutes, and he moved closer to
him now and spoke into his chest so only Peets could hear. "That
kid," he said, nodding toward Gary Sample, "is about to
make you some problems."
Then he stepped around Peets and followed the little
cop into the hospital.
2
The
Pocket
There wasn't a man on any shift in Central Detectives
who didn't admire Calamity Eisenhower. Even the captain who brought
him up on charges admired him, although he didn't miss him now he was
gone, the way the detectives did.
Calamity's brother How-Awful! had been lost at a
police convention in Phoenix, Arizona, one year to the day before
Calamity broke his hip falling down the stairs at South Detectives.
How-Awful! had climbed out on the roof of a Holiday Inn at three
o'clock in the morning and jumped into a swimming pool that had been
drained for painting. At the time, it seemed to settle the question
every cop in every corner of the city lived with every day of his
life. How-Awful! was crazier than Calamity. But then Calamity had
been found, broken-hipped and dressed in a rabbit suit, at the bottom
of the stairs at South Detectives, and it was an open case again.
There had been six detectives with him, all dressed
in rabbit suits they'd rented from three different costume shops in
three different cities—let internal affairs find that. They'd gone
into South Detectives at high noon on a Wednesday a couple of days
after South Detectives had beaten Central Detectives 22-2 in a game
of slow-pitch softball, and shot the place up. They blew out the
lights and put holes in the ceiling just to watch cops dive under
desks.
You do not steal home against Calamity Eisenhower
with a twenty-run lead and hope it will be forgotten.
They'd shot the place up and then run down the stairs
and out the door, and Calamity, who was last to leave, who could not
get enough of the way it looked, Calamity had tripped on his own
rabbit's foot and rolled all the way down.
The captain at South Detectives found him there
fifteen minutes later. The detectives
mortgaged himself forever to everybody there. He said, "It was
the cherry picker."
They all looked at him, he looked at the little cop.
"The U-bolt come loose," he said. He moved over to the boom
and lifted the U-bolt. The cable bowed. The bolt didn't look as heavy
as it was, and he handed it to the little cop the way the cop might
of handed his gun over to his boy, so he could feel the weight and
see it was serious.
"Usually," Peets said, "the cable and
the bolt are tied to the boom when we're not usin' it.” He picked
up the smaller cable they used to tie the cable to the boom and
handed it to the cop too. "The tie must of come loose, the cable
swung out, and the U-bolt hit the boy right in the back of the head."
The cop looked at the U-bolt, the boom, the cable in
his hand, trying to see it. One of the men on the crew was nodding.
"That's what happened," he said. "I
seen the whole thing. The kid never knew what hit him."
The cop turned to look at him, then he looked at the
rest of them. "Anybody else?"
Peets waited, and then somebody else said he'd seen
it too, and then a couple of the others said they almost seen it.
Gary Sample had eyes to say something different, but he didn't. Old
Lucy just sat in the dirt, the pipe right there by his side and, as
far as Peets could tell, he didn't hear any of it.
The little cop walked from the cherry picker to the
spot where the body fell, counting his steps. He estimated heights
and distances and asked questions about Leon's job. "He was a
bricklayer," Peets said. Shit, he might as well lie all the way.
The little cop moved here and there, satisfying
himself. His partner stood in one place, watching Peets, studying the
rest of them too. The little cop turned to him. "Let's go get
the groceries," he said.
His partner's name tag said Eisenhower. The little
cop walked toward the hospital entrance, Eisenhower stayed back. He
had been watching Peets about fifteen minutes, and he moved closer to
him now and spoke into his chest so only Peets could hear. "That
kid," he said, nodding toward Gary Sample, "is about to
make you some problems."
Then he stepped around Peets and followed the little
cop into the hospital.
2
The
There wasn't a man on any shift in Central Detectives
who didn't admire Calamity Eisenhower. Even the captain who brought
him up on charges admired him, although he didn't miss him now he was
gone, the way the detectives did.
Calamity's brother How-Awful! had been lost at a
police convention in Phoenix, Arizona, one year to the day before
Calamity broke his hip falling down the stairs at South Detectives.
How-Awful! had climbed out on the roof of a Holiday Inn at three
o'clock in the morning and jumped into a swimming pool that had been
drained for painting. At the time, it seemed to settle the question
every cop in every corner of the city lived with every day of his
life. How-Awful! was crazier than Calamity. But then Calamity had
been found, broken-hipped and dressed in a rabbit suit, at the bottom
of the stairs at South Detectives, and it was an open case again.
There had been six detectives with him, all dressed
in rabbit suits they'd rented from three different costume shops in
three different cities—let internal affairs find that. They'd gone
into South Detectives at high noon on a Wednesday a couple of days
after South Detectives had beaten Central Detectives 22-2 in a game
of slow-pitch softball, and shot the place up. They blew out the
lights and put holes in the ceiling just to watch cops dive under
desks.
You do not steal home against Calamity Eisenhower
with a twenty-run lead and hope it will be forgotten.
They'd shot the place up and then run down the stairs
and out the door, and Calamity, who was last to leave, who could not
get enough of the way it looked, Calamity had tripped on his own
rabbit's foot and rolled all the way down.
The captain at South Detectives found him there
fifteen minutes later. The detectives
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