Into the Belly of the Whale

 

Griff stood at the sliding glass door in Maura’s kitchen looking out back. A half-hour before, Johnny left after a second full afternoon of going over every minute of every day since he first met Helena at Chicago Executive Airport. Lance had just called. He and Wilkinson finished at the ranch and were back in Chicago. Rodya was with Ben and Swan. Maura was at work chasing some bad guy for J-Bonds 24-Hour Bail Bond Service…some bad guy like him.

Griff was not sure which of the two deserved more of his empathy.

In the soft light of the summer evening, Griff watched the “snot-nosed” neighbor kids romp and play in their backyards, quarter-acres of suburbia cordoned off with cedar privacy fences. Griff had been at Maura’s only two days and he was already feeling stir crazy.

He looked back at his phone on the kitchen table and wondered. No calls…no texts from Helena?

“Hey, Griff,” Maura called out when she came in the front door. “I brought home a pizza. Is Papa still here?”

“He left.” Griff looked back out the sliding glass door.

“Good. He’s a pizza snob. Gotta be Angelo’s or it’s trash.” Maura set the pizza on the kitchen table and put a twelve-pack into the refrigerator. “What’s going on out there, Gladys Kravits?”

“Oh, nothing. Did you and Dewey get the skel?”

“Well, look at you, using grown up technical terms of the law enforcement profession and all. Ain’t that just the cutest thing.”

Griff shrugged.

“Well, a bird in the kitchen is worth two in the wind.”

He turned around to face Maura. “Lance called.”

“Oh.”

“Then, I guess it’s on. Huh.”

Maura stepped over and took Griff’s head in her hand, gently stroking his cheek with her thumb. She nodded slightly. “But not until tomorrow. Okay?”

They ate pizza and drank beer, sitting together on the couch, feeding the DVD player classic horror movies from Maura’s collection—Halloween, Nightmare on Elm Street, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, and Night of the Living Dead—until Maura fell asleep sprawled against Griff.

He did not know how long he watched the TV screen saver bounce the time around in random patterns before he dozed. The next thing he remembered was Johnny pounding on Maura’s front door to take him to jail in his Cadillac El Dorado.

 

***~~~***

 

“Hey, Maura,” the desk sergeant at the Newport Police Department called out when they came in. “How’s it going?”

“Hey, Andy.”

“Whatcha doin’ on this side of the river?”

“Officer, we understand there is an arrest warrant outstanding for our client,” Johnny said. “One Griffith Crowe.”

“Oh, yeah? What did he do?”

“The Commonwealth claims—erroneously, of course—that he violated KRS Chapter 507.”

“Huh?”

“Criminal Homicide, section zero-two-zero, to be precise, murder.”

Andy looked at Maura.

She nodded her head.

“This guy?” Andy pointed at Griff standing between Maura and Johnny.

Griff nodded, too.

“He is here to surrender peaceably, officer.” Johnny smiled broadly.

“And who are you?”

“He’s my grandpa,” said Maura.

“Andy, I am E.J. Leonard, attorney-at-law. I represent Mr. Crowe and I am merely here to keep tabs on those pesky rights he is duly afforded by our great and noble justice system.”

Andy looked from Johnny to Maura. “Your grandpa?”

Maura nodded.

“Huh.” Andy scratched his bald head. He picked up the handset on his desk phone. “I better check with someone about this. Would y'all mind having a seat?”

“Certainly,” Johnny said. “Take your time, officer.”

And so began Griff’s arrest and detention with all the attendant personal indignities involved in the process.

 

***~~~***