Read Online The Big Thaw by Donald Harstad - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Donald Harstad
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food brought to the farm. Great idea. About a minute later, Deputy Willis called from the end of the lane. The owner, Cletus Borglan, was here.
He was about medium height and build, in his middle fifties. He was fit, from working as opposed to working out. He also had a loud voice, which he was using. Not particularly angry. Just loud.
“Damn, Lamar! What’s goin’ on here? Why the little army at my farm?” He was standing in the kitchen doorway, and was using a voice that would enable him to be heard in the machine shed.
“Been a problem,” said Lamar.
“So I hear,” said Cletus, loudly. “What are cops doin’ on my property in the first place?”
“We’re investigating a murder,” said Lamar.
“What? How the hell can there be a murder here when there’s
nobody home?”
He headed toward the archway, louder as he went. “What the hell are they doin’ to my carpet?”
I was by the archway, and just stepped sideways into his path. “Sorry,” I said. “You can’t go in there just yet. They’re not…” I was going to say “done.”
“Who the hell are you to tell me that I can’t go in there?” Very loud, but he’d stopped.
“Calm down, Clete,” said Lamar. “Like I said, we’re here on a murder investigation.”
Cletus spun around to face Lamar. “And I said, ‘How the hell can there be a murder here if there’s NOBODY HOME?’!”
Lamar stood his ground, and I stepped one step closer behind Cletus.
“Like I been trying to tell you,” began Lamar, patiently, “one of my officers had a reason to come here, and look for somebody. He found who he was looking for, but not alive.”
Cletus cut him off. “What happened? One of you guys get killed trespassing on a farm again?”
Lamar went white, and I suspect I did, too. Cletus was referring to an incident about five miles from his house, where Lamar had gotten shot and Civil Deputy Bud had been killed, attempting to serve a notice on a farmer and his wife. Our people had not been, of course, trespassing.
The outrageousness of the statement had Lamar temporarily speechless. Cletus, too, for he knew he had gone too far. Before he could try to make amends, though, Lamar spoke up.
“You stupid son of a bitch,” said Lamar, quiet but not quite controlled. “Don’t ever say anything like that again. Ever. You got that? Ever.”
“I’m sorry, Lamar,” said Cletus, still too loud, and not quite sincerely. “It was out of line. I didn’t mean that.”
Well, there it was, though. He’d thought it, and he’d said it, and that was that. Lamar looked at me and said, “You deal with him. I’m gonna step outside for a minute.”
Thanks, boss. Thanks a lot.
“Why don’t you have a seat at the kitchen table, Cletus,” I said. “You quiet down, and I’ll tell you some of what’s going on.”
He turned and looked at me, his face a bit redder than it had been when he first arrived. He said nothing, just walked over to the table, and sat. Then, “What’s this country coming to when a man’s ordered around in his own house?” He said it almost softly, like he was talking to himself. Almost, but not really. The softness made it deniable, though, if he were to be called on it.
“Just get a handle on it, Cletus,” I said. “Things happen for a reason.”
“It’s my house. What’d you do if I just said to get off my property? Huh? It’s MY property.”
“Well, Cletus,” I said, sitting across the table from him, “first I’d tell you that we have the right to investigate the crime without interference.” I kept my voice soft and low, forcing him to listen.
“Bullshit.” This was a little louder again. “What were you doing here in the first place?”
“And,” I said, “if you persisted, I’d charge you with Interference with Official Acts.”
“On my own property?” His voice was rising. “That’s pure bullshit!”
Time to change tactics. “Look, Cletus,” I said. “Suppose you invited some guys
He was about medium height and build, in his middle fifties. He was fit, from working as opposed to working out. He also had a loud voice, which he was using. Not particularly angry. Just loud.
“Damn, Lamar! What’s goin’ on here? Why the little army at my farm?” He was standing in the kitchen doorway, and was using a voice that would enable him to be heard in the machine shed.
“Been a problem,” said Lamar.
“So I hear,” said Cletus, loudly. “What are cops doin’ on my property in the first place?”
“We’re investigating a murder,” said Lamar.
“What? How the hell can there be a murder here when there’s
nobody home?”
He headed toward the archway, louder as he went. “What the hell are they doin’ to my carpet?”
I was by the archway, and just stepped sideways into his path. “Sorry,” I said. “You can’t go in there just yet. They’re not…” I was going to say “done.”
“Who the hell are you to tell me that I can’t go in there?” Very loud, but he’d stopped.
“Calm down, Clete,” said Lamar. “Like I said, we’re here on a murder investigation.”
Cletus spun around to face Lamar. “And I said, ‘How the hell can there be a murder here if there’s NOBODY HOME?’!”
Lamar stood his ground, and I stepped one step closer behind Cletus.
“Like I been trying to tell you,” began Lamar, patiently, “one of my officers had a reason to come here, and look for somebody. He found who he was looking for, but not alive.”
Cletus cut him off. “What happened? One of you guys get killed trespassing on a farm again?”
Lamar went white, and I suspect I did, too. Cletus was referring to an incident about five miles from his house, where Lamar had gotten shot and Civil Deputy Bud had been killed, attempting to serve a notice on a farmer and his wife. Our people had not been, of course, trespassing.
The outrageousness of the statement had Lamar temporarily speechless. Cletus, too, for he knew he had gone too far. Before he could try to make amends, though, Lamar spoke up.
“You stupid son of a bitch,” said Lamar, quiet but not quite controlled. “Don’t ever say anything like that again. Ever. You got that? Ever.”
“I’m sorry, Lamar,” said Cletus, still too loud, and not quite sincerely. “It was out of line. I didn’t mean that.”
Well, there it was, though. He’d thought it, and he’d said it, and that was that. Lamar looked at me and said, “You deal with him. I’m gonna step outside for a minute.”
Thanks, boss. Thanks a lot.
“Why don’t you have a seat at the kitchen table, Cletus,” I said. “You quiet down, and I’ll tell you some of what’s going on.”
He turned and looked at me, his face a bit redder than it had been when he first arrived. He said nothing, just walked over to the table, and sat. Then, “What’s this country coming to when a man’s ordered around in his own house?” He said it almost softly, like he was talking to himself. Almost, but not really. The softness made it deniable, though, if he were to be called on it.
“Just get a handle on it, Cletus,” I said. “Things happen for a reason.”
“It’s my house. What’d you do if I just said to get off my property? Huh? It’s MY property.”
“Well, Cletus,” I said, sitting across the table from him, “first I’d tell you that we have the right to investigate the crime without interference.” I kept my voice soft and low, forcing him to listen.
“Bullshit.” This was a little louder again. “What were you doing here in the first place?”
“And,” I said, “if you persisted, I’d charge you with Interference with Official Acts.”
“On my own property?” His voice was rising. “That’s pure bullshit!”
Time to change tactics. “Look, Cletus,” I said. “Suppose you invited some guys
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