It was nearly midnight by the time I delivered our victim to the state medical lab an’ picked up my truck back in the swamp. I decided the paperwork’d keep ’til mornin’.
I didn’t sleep real good. After eatin’ breakfast at Denny’s—on the interstate, where I wasn’t knowed an’ wouldn’t be axed bout yesterday’s goin’s-on—I drove to the nearest One Hour Photo an’ got my film developed. Then I headed back to West Wheeling to go to work.
Child Welfare, in the person of my sister, Penny Deters Evans, was waitin’ in my office when I got there. Penny’s a thin woman, near as tall as me, an’ tougher’n a Marine. She said, “Homer, I got a crime to report.”
I resisted the urge to tell her, Git in line. Instead, I said, “Yes, ma’am. What kin I do for you?”
She blinked. She’s not used to me givin’ her what she wants without a fight. “You can uphold the law.” I waited. “Mavis Thistle is keeping her older girl out of school to babysit her younger ones.”
“What’d you expect? You told her you was gonna take them kids away if she left ’em alone again.”
“I expect her either to stay home with them herself or hire a competent adult to watch them.”
Knowin’ Mavis, I knew Penny was dreamin’, but I didn’t argue. “What do you want me to do about it?”
“You’re the truant officer. Do your duty!”
I got out the truancy notice forms an’ handed one to her. “Get this filled out by the kid’s teacher an’ bring it back.”
After she left, I cataloged my developed film, an’ put the date, roll number an’ case number on all the negatives from each roll, then put the date, roll number, negative number, an’ case number on the back of each pi’ture. The negatives went into labeled archive pages in a big notebook in the office safe, an’ the prints—in sequence—went into labeled 8 1/2” × 11” album page sheets in the proper case files.
I had two of ’em. One was labeled ROGER DEVON. I decided it would be fittin’ to call the other case PUZZLE MAN ’cause of the victim’s condition. I figured I could add “WO” to the file label in front of MAN if he turned out to be a she. I had just started typin’ a list from my field notes of what each photo was a pi’ture of, when Penny come back.
She slapped the form I’d given her down on my desk. “Here you are, Homer. Sic ’em!”
I looked it over. On it, the teacher stated that Dotty Thistle hadn’t been to school in over a week, an’ that her mother claimed she was sick. “This doesn’t say nothin’ about baby-sittin’ young ’uns,” I told Penny.
“Of course not. She told me she sent Dotty to stay with her sister, Eloise, in the city, where they have better schools.”
“Well, you write out a statement that says that an’ I’ll have grounds to go out an’ talk to her about it.”
“Have you a form for that?”
“Not yet. This is the first time it’s come up.” I handed her a sheet of paper an’ a pen. “Your lucky day. You get to make up your own form.”
Penny went back to her office to make out her report, an’ I put the truancy report in a file I called DOTTY THISTLE. Then I went back to my field notes. Penny was back long before I finished. I looked over her report an’ put it in the Thistle file, on the corner of my desk.
She said, “Aren’t you going to do something now?”
“Are these kids in imminent danger of physical harm?”
“No.”
“Then I’ll get to it soon’s I got time.”
“Homer!”
“I happen to be workin’ on a death investigation here, which—like it or not—takes precedent over truancy.” I folded my hands on the desk in front of me an’ looked at her like I was waitin’ for her to come up with some new, bigger problem.
I could see the wheels turnin’ as she thought about it, an’ I could almost see her decide she’d get my back up if she pushed it. She finally said, “Well, I appreciate your taking the time to talk with me, Deputy. I certainly hope you can fit us into your busy schedule sometime soon.”
I decided to really throw her for a loop. I just said, “Yes, ma’am.”
I finished typin’ up my reports an’ filed ’em just about lunchtime. I hadn’t et in town for nearly a week an’ I hadn’t seen Nina for two days, so I decided to stop by the post office an’ feel her out about goin’ to lunch with me. I called Martha to tell her I’d be ten-seven, an’ headed across the street.
Nina was wearin’ a dress that fit like it was painted on. She was standin’ behind the counter, so I couldn’t see her legs, but the rest of her looked fine. There weren’t no bumps or ridges I could see to show she was wearin’ nothin’ under the dress. The lump I suddenly felt in my throat was as big as a man’s heart. I swallowed. I took off my hat an’ held it by the brim, in front of my fly. Just to distract Nina—in case she was noticin’ the stir her outfit was causin’—I nodded at the stack of Wanted posters. She’d used an orange marker to draw bull’s-eyes over the faces, along with enough circles around the bull’s-eyes to make each poster into a dandy target. The felon of the day was Ransom Thomas, bank robber, strong-arm bandit, an’ escape artist.
“Looks like what they say about the devil is true,” I told her, noddin’ at the posters.
“Which particular say is that?”
“’Bout him findin’ work for idle minds—’pears you don’t have enough real work to keep you busy.”
She got all uptight, like a woman whose new dress ain’t been noticed, an’ sniffed. “Show’s what you know. If you don’t do somethin’ to spice up them posters, no one even notices ’em. Might as well have pi’tures of Rocky an’ Bullwinkle. As I see it, I’m doin’ the Law a favor.”
I had to admit she was right, but I didn’t. I said, “You wanna go to lunch?”
“Not a chance!”
As I shook my head an’ turned to leave, I did manage to get the last word in: “Nice dress.”