Ness pulled up to the Fieldings’s house around six the next night. A gravel drive leading there and the rocks popped under the tires. A wide porch in the front and all the windows of the house were open and beyond the house was a steep hill full of maple trees. It looked as if Mrs Fielding had set the porch for their supper but there was no one on the porch. From inside the car Ness could see a water pitcher sweating in the late heat and the flies trying to get at a fruit platter covered in cellophane. He sat back in his seat a moment. Then he reached for the glove box and opened the door and took his flask from it and had a drink.
He’d never seen the sheriff dressed in civilian clothing before but that was what he wore. That wide man stepping through the screen door. A pair of khaki trousers and a white polo shirt. His hair was neatly combed and he looked like he’d just shaven. He came out onto the porch and held his hand up at Ness. Started down the porch steps, surprisingly nimble for such a big man.
The air was redolent and sticky and birds called in the trees. It was supposed to rain that night. Maybe sooner than that. Already you could hear the drumming of thunder against the hills.
What say yeh, Ed, Fielding said. He stuck out his hand and Ness shook it. Happy yeh could make it out.
Well, thanks for inviting me.
Fielding stood with his hands in his pockets. He rocked back on his heels a little. Seth, he ain’t goin a make it, he said.
Ness nodded indifferently.
The bats had come out, wheeling around in the falling dark. Almost couldn’t see them. Could hear them chirping through the air.
I wanted to apologize, Ness said.
Apologize, Fielding said. For what?
For the way I acted. The way I acted in the car. The way I acted in front of Sheriff Taylor. For pulling my gun on Tilton.
Tilton deserved it, Fielding said.
Ness shrugged. No excuse, Ness said. It’s not fair to you. To put you in that position. Anyway, Ness said, waving his hand dismissively, sorry.
Hey, Fielding said. Forget it. Over. Done.
Just wanted you to know that.
He ain’t the one, is he? Fielding said as though he already knew the answer. Must’ve been all over Ness’s face.
No, Ness said. No he isn’t.
Yeah. Well, yeh come on up. The missus got a nice meal for us tonight. We’ll talk about somethin othern police work. Sara won’t have it.
They ate a meal of fried chicken and boiled potatoes, plenty of butter to go around. There was corn on the cob, a lettuce salad with a sweet red dressing, freshly baked bread still warm and wrapped in a cloth napkin. When Ness resigned himself to the fact that he could not eat any more, Mrs Fielding brought out a peach pie with ice cream melting over it and the only thing nicer than the smell might have been the nice look on Sara’s face. Seeing how well Ness ate the first piece, Sara dolled up another, almost instinctively, saying she couldn’t stand a man with no appetite. Ness complimented her on the crust and Sara said she’d get him the recipe. When it was all over Sara cleared everything away and when Ness offered to do the dishes Mrs Fielding said, Hush, and if she had any pity for him she did not show it.
Supper over and the dishes cleared, Fielding brought out a bottle. Sara left them to talk and they sat alone on the porch watching the night gather over the yard. Fireflies blinking like beacons. Bolls of cotton drifting like satellites. The first mention of rain hissed out over the trees then moved like a tide over the grass. The rain came harder and soon the eaves of the porch began to run with water.
One brandy in and Ness eased back into the comfortable wicker chair. He welcomed the heat of the brandy in his chest and it felt good to not move. He almost felt like closing his eyes.
That wife of yours sure can cook, Ness said.
How yeh think I got this, Fielding said, patting his stomach. And this wasn’t a special occasion neither. Pork chops and steaks. Cakes and pies. Naw, I’m spoilt, Ed. That woman’s ruined me to anythin else. How bout you?
He cringed as he said it and he wondered if it was obvious.
Widower, Ness said. You know that.
Shoot, Ed, Fielding said. I didn’t mean—
No, I know you didn’t. I was wondering when it was going to come up. The boys informed me that you’d requested my file.
It ain’t that I don’t trust yeh, Fielding said.
I know, Ness said. I’d want to know who I was working with too.
They were quiet then. They sat there looking at nothing in particular. The rain beating down. The wet grass glistening under porchlight. Fielding knew Ness was in no mood to talk about it. Maybe never would be.
That boy out in Harlan was a bit of a nut, eh?
That’s putting it mildly, Ness said. It’s these copycat crimes I can’t understand.
World’s changin, Fielding said. Done got itself into a big damn hurry real damn quick. Everyone wants to be famous for somethin now.
My favorite was the God part, Ness said. God telling him to do it.
I tell yeh, Fielding said. I’m bout liable to believe anythin these days. I swear. Nothin seems to puzzle me anymore. Jest when I think, yep, that’s bout the craziest thing, somethin else comes along. I’ve stopped believin that I know the answer.
With that they watched the rain without letting go of a single word. A whomp of lightning set the darkness alight like the flash of an enormous camera. A scene of trees arrested for a moment. The sky going blue. The thud of thunder came so quickly it shuddered the panes in the house. Seemed to abrade the very sky, but whatever it was Sheriff Fielding dwelled on must have been important because the crack of lightning did not even merit a grunt. They heard Sara singing in the kitchen, heard her feet on the hallway floor coming nearer and finally her voice, saying, I’m headin up, Amos. You boys enjoy yourselves. Then to Ness, said, And you, you keep him to two.
Yes mam, said Ness. He stood. Thank you for the supper.
You’re welcome any time. She came through the door and kissed her husband on the top of his head. Goodnight you all.
When she was gone and he’d heard the door of their bedroom close behind her, Fielding said, it might be a three or four kind a night. Then he smiled warmly.
This bit of privacy and something maybe like freedom should have offered an opportunity to indulge in the kind of talk men sometimes do in the absence of women but they sat quiet as children in church. They watched the rain, hypnotic as fire. Fielding reached into his shirt pocket where a cool tin of tobacco nestled against his chest. He uncapped it and hooked in a finger and laid the wad under his lip. Ness passed on it when offered. Fielding stood and made his way down the porch steps, reached under and lifted an old coffee can, his shirt flecking with rain, tipped out whatever was in the can, tapped it once or twice against the railing, climbed the steps again, and set the can at his feet.
Sara don’t care for this neither, he said. He spat a gob of the caramelly stuff into the can. Then without the slightest prompt Fielding said, How old are yeh, Ed?
Thirty-five.
How far into thirty-five?
I was born in March.
How long yeh been a detective?
Five years. A week after my birthday. I worked as a deputy before that.
All up in Minneapolis?
Ness nodded. Always wanted to be a part of the law. Ever since I was a kid.
I bet yeh see some interestin things up there in the big city.
Sometimes, sure. Sometimes you do.
My cousin Eli was the sheriff down in Willow, Iowa, Fielding said. That’s just south a here maybe ninety miles or so. One of his first cases after bein elected sheriff just bout made him give back his badge. You’re talkin a town smallern Oscar. One day in June or July, and this is back thirty some years, maybe before you were even born, my cousin found a foot that had been hacked off with one a them short wood saws and wrapped in the funny papers. He started to look into it but he didn’t find nothin. It nagged at him for about a year till he finally got a call from the sheriff down in Des Moines. That sheriff had been callin round tryin to find all these men who’d dodged their parole. He’d called their families, past employers, nothin. He told Eli all the men had been released on bail but for the life of him couldn’t find a single record of who’d paid it. Long and the short of it, my cousin toiled over that case for two years, not so much as a fart of anythin worthwhile, till one particularly dry year.
Fielding held up his finger to punctuate that statement.
A warm winter, he said, with almost no snow and only but a few inches of rain in May. Farmers cursed that year but for Eli I think he felt it a godsend. With no rain, the river dropped. A record low. There were parts of the river so narrow a child could step across it without havin to stretch. I still remember the day he called, told me to get down there, that the first body had showed up. Over the next few days it was pretty plain someone had thought of somethin new. Each man had been strung through the ribs with a steel cable and their hands were wired out like Jesus on the cross. Each body was reachin for the next down the line. It was a nasty thing and the smell was horrible. On one side of the river we found a spool all camouflaged in tree branches and such, and on the other there was a crank and the guy must a strung one up at a time then cranked the line into the river. You can imagine how each body looked. The oldest one was almost a skeleton from things eating on it and whatever else. I can’t say about Eli, but all my life I won’t forget that sight.
He lifted the old coffee can beside his chair and spit.
Your cousin find out who did it? Ness asked.
No he did not.
Hmm.
Got us a possum by the tail, Fielding said.
You mean tiger by the tail.
Nah. Somethin my deddy use to say. Yeh grab a possum by the tail and they jest go limp. Play dead. So now yeh’ve caught it but because it ain’t doin nothin more, yeh let it go and go on with yer day. Then once yer gone the rascal pops up and skitters away to do whatever it is possums do.
Eat ticks, Ness said.
Huh?
They eat a lot of ticks.
Well, whatever they is doin they keep on doin. I’m tellin yeh this because sometimes yeh don’t find what yeh set out to. Sometimes there ain’t no answers.
There was a pause. Ness must have been thinking about that, said very plainly, Well, somebody killed that boy.
Sure, said Fielding. That’s why we keep lookin.
They didn’t speak then for a very long while, just leaving themselves to sit and drink and spit, just staring off into the rainy night, with its thunder in the hills and hidden ghosts.
Yeh know Sara and me had our troubles, Fielding said. Babies, I mean.
You wanted children.
Wanted a whole mess a them. Wanted to watch them grow up here and run around and go to baseball games and school plays, graduation. Give toasts at their weddings. The whole bit, Ed.
Fielding reached down and lifted the can and spat the whole of the chew into it and then set the can back on the porch floor and reached for his glass and lifted that to his lips and took a drink of the bourbon and swished it around his mouth and then sat back and put the glass in his lap and said, Miscarriages, Ed. Five a them.
I’m sorry to hear that.
Takes its toll.
I believe it.
After the fifth, Sara’d had enough, Fielding said. Hell, me too. She got a operation and that was that. I sometimes think we waited too long. I was too busy with other people’s problems. That happens. Yeh wait fer everythin to be just so.
Fielding took a sip.
Yeh believe in God, Ed?
No, Ness said. You?
I think so. At least it doesn’t hurt anythin to, I suppose.
You might be right.
Keeps me honest, at least. Makes me mind my Ps and Qs.
That’s why they call him The Father. Ness pointed at Fielding. And you’re The Son.
What’s the Holy Ghost then?
The rain, the thunder. I don’t know. I don’t believe in it so I don’t have to think about it.
Ness reached for the bottle but Fielding took it first and tilted it first into Ness’s glass and then into his own. Ness looked at the glass, holding it up, examining it.
Peter would have been eleven this year, Ness said.
That’s a good age, Fielding said.
I should probably give this stuff up, Ness said, looking at the bourbon in his glass. But not tonight.
Then he took a drink and closed his eyes and listened to the rain.