14

Ike Doolittle came by the house at noon to pick up Marie and her baggage. Mother wasn’t satisfied to say goodbye to her in the house. She put a coat on over her apron and followed us out to the car, with me carrying three light bags. She and Marie embraced, almost tearfully, and Marie even gave me a kiss.

As Doolittle was stowing away the last of the luggage, Tim Reagan showed up. I supposed Doolittle had told him about Marie’s leaving. He said, “So you’re on the way, Marie.”

“Home, Tim. Home again. I never want to see Tony again, but that doesn’t mean I don’t wish him well.”

“Forgive and forget, if you can. That’s the thing. Remember me to your folks. I’m hoping to be back there in a year, more or less.”

“That would be nice,” she said. They shook hands in a sort of distant brother-and-sister way, as if remembering childhood days together.

“All aboard,” Ike said, and she and he climbed into the car and took off.

“Mother,” I said, “you haven’t met my friend Tim Reagan.”

Mother brought a hand from underneath her coat and held it out. Reagan, his hand ungloved, took it and looked into her face.

“I like to meet Jase’s friends,” Mother told him.

“I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Would you like to come in?” she asked.

“Thanks. I can’t right now.”

“Excuse me, then. I’m getting cold.”

Reagan, looking in her direction, made an approving nod. When she was out of earshot, he said, “I believe you now. Hell, I guess I believed you before. I’m obliged.” He turned on his heel and walked away.

I went back into the house, to be greeted with a question. “What would you like for supper, Jase?”

“Anything. Quit fussing, Mother. There’s more to life than pleasing menfolk. Haven’t you heard of women’s lib?”

“I’ve heard enough. I’m a liberated woman, though the likes of them wouldn’t believe it. I do what I like to do.”

“You ought to take a trip. Do something on your own, for yourself.”

“Answer my question. What do you want for supper?”

“Plovers’ eggs and smoked sturgeon. Something simple like that.”

“I was thinking of stuffed pork chops.”

“Fine.”

It was no use to argue. She was set in her ways, and I suspected she had a point, doing what she liked to do. Yet I felt a little sad and a little guilty. Hers must be a pretty dreary existence.

I went to the phone in the living room and called Anita’s number. On the first ring it struck me that Grandpa might answer the phone, and what would I say to him? Internal Revenue Service calling? County agent? Weather warning?

But Anita’s voice answered, and I asked about the new man. “Just answer questions if someone’s within hearing,” I told her.

“It’s all right. They’re eating dinner.” The noon meal was dinner on ranches. “Omar’s all right, Jase. And he and Grandfather get along fine. I’m grateful to you.”

“Don’t be. I’m just glad. And one night soon I’m going to ask for time off and come to see you, if that’s all right. I’ll call you beforehand.”

“Don’t do that. Just come along.”

I ate lunch and loafed around for a while, petting the dog, talking to Mother and reading. In midafternoon I bundled up and headed for the office.

I had to wait for Charleston. After a quarter of an hour he came in, took off his wraps and said, “You’re earlier than need be, Jase, but all right. We’ll get this business over with. Bring in Coletti, will you?”

I took the keys and went to his cell and brought him back, neither of us saying much.

“Sit down, Coletti,” Charleston said from his desk.

Coletti had cured up pretty well, his bruises hardly showing. But he never would look as he had, even if he replaced the missing two teeth. He asked, “What’s up now?”

“We’ve held you without charge, Coletti,” Charleston said.

“Too damn long. Should have got me a lawyer. He’d of sprung me.”

“We’ve held you without charge pending your wife’s recovery or death.”

“Yeah.”

The word wasn’t a question, nor could I see any interest or concern in Coletti’s dark eyes, though he must have been curious at least. All I saw was smolder.

“Now we’re letting you go.”

“So the bitch got well?”

“Well enough.”

“I knew goddamn well she would. I just slapped her around a little.”

“We saw what you’d done.” The marks of dislike showed strong in Charleston’s face. “I wanted her to stay and press charges against you.”

“She’s gone? That what you’re telling me?”

“Flown the coop, as we country bums would say.”

“Where?”

“Where you can’t reach her and we don’t want to try. That’s why we’re letting you out. No complaining witness.”

Coletti had a quick mind, too quick. “Four stinkin’ walls,” he said. “Lousy chow.” He was wrong there. Doolittle or Frazier or I had brought him the Commercial Cafe’s best every day. “All that, and you kept me in a cage too damn long and no good reason for it.”

He almost grinned, showing where his two lost teeth had been. “And that son of a bitch”—he pointed to me—“kicks my face in. Man, oh, man. Now you got no case. I know some law. I’ll sue you for false arrest. I’ll burn your ass.”

Charleston nodded toward me, and now I thought I caught the drift. I knew why he had wanted me on hand.

“Look here, Mr. Sheriff,” I said, “what’s the idea, counting me out? I have a grievance. I have charges to bring. What about assault and battery? What about resisting an officer? What about attempted homicide? Throw Coletti back in a cell. Believe me, I want to be a complaining witness.”

Charleston had watched Coletti while I spoke. It was his turn to grin. “I’m not forgetting about you, Jase. Your case is ironclad for a fact. But don’t you think it would be best to hold back for a while?”

“What for?”

“Pending developments. Pending the suit Coletti wants to file. Hold your fire. That’s my suggestion.”

Coletti’s voice was hardly more than a squeak. “You got me by the balls.”

“It looks that way,” Charleston told him. “Now get out.”

“Get out of town, huh?”

“No. I wouldn’t visit scum like you on an unoffending community. We don’t banish bad actors. We watch them. Just get a little on the wrong side of the law, and back in jail you go. I have an idea you better beware of Tim Reagan, too.” Charleston reached in a drawer and brought out an envelope. “Here’s what you came with, barring a bellyful of whiskey.” His thumb moved toward the rack on which we hung our wraps. “Your coat and stuff is on that peg. There’s the door. Get!”

Coletti went out, giving us one baleful but defeated glance.

Charleston took a deep breath, as if the air had cleared with his going. “Nice acting, Jase. You picked up the ball fast. Now go on home, eat supper and come back later. Make it a short shift tonight if you can.”

The shift not only was short: it was dull. Hardly a call came in except for routine reports. Sooner than I could imagine, I was to wish for dull times again.

I walked toward home before midnight, stopping only for a moment at the Bar Star, where Studebaker told me two carloads of hunters had gone out after wolves.

Before I reached home I heard the wild voices again, sounding hoarse and hungry in the dark well of the night. In passing, I saw that Mr. Willsie’s window had been boarded up. I noticed, without much interest, that a good many porch and inside lights still burned, though the hour was late for working people. My thoughts were of Anita.

The lights at home were on, too, and Mother was still up. I greeted her and said, “Long past bedtime.”

“Did you hear the wolves? Listen.”

“Howling doesn’t hurt anybody.”

“Don’t you realize that people are frightened, mothers especially?”

“They’re overdoing it.”

“They’re escorting their children to school and meeting them when classes are over. Think of that. Being scared that wolves will make off with a little one. I’ve had several calls today, and what can I tell them?”

“To keep cool, I guess.”

“It won’t do any good to say that.”

“Tell them the sheriff’s office is aware, that we’re looking into things, that we’re prepared to take action.”

“All right,” Mother said, “but that won’t comfort them much.”

No, I thought on the edge of sleep. No sure comfort there for anxious mothers. But the alarm had no basis, no sound one. Wolves didn’t prey on humans. I kept telling myself that. I went to sleep with the voices of wolves. Not sound asleep, though. I kept hearing the cries, real or imagined. The badge of office didn’t guarantee peace of mind.