Harry looked up and shouted, “Ryan, you up there?”
“That you, Mr Cull?” came a question from the top of a very tall pine on the corner of the road.
Harry oriented himself until he spotted the youth hanging in a sitting position from mountaineering ropes. “Yeah, it’s me. You just splatted a cop car.”
There was silence from the heavens for a moment before Ryan said: “Oops.”
Cirba walked next to Harry and said: “Want to fill me in here?”
“That’s Ryan up there doing an environmental civil-disobedience exercise.”
“Son, this is Trooper Cirba. Whatcha doin’ up there?”
The boy cleared his throat and recited: “‘If the machine of government is of such a nature that it requires you to be the agent of injustice to another then I say, break the law’.”
Cirba looked at Harry, confused.
“Thoreau,” Harry stated.
“What, like Henry David?”
Harry nodded.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”
“Son,” Cirba yelled, “if you scare the shit out of some little old lady with your bird bombs and she crashes into a tree, I’m gonna have you for manslaughter. You need to think up a new protest. Now come down from there.”
There was a long pause but then a resolute voice said: “Sorry, sir, but I am committed.”
One of the workers from the fracking pod who had mud and bloodstains on the front of his overalls came over and said: “How you gonna get him down from there?”
Cirba shrugged. “No ideas; you got any suggestions?”
“Chop the tree down.”
Cirba turned and glowered at the man.
“OK, not that. How about plastic bullets?”
“What is your name?”
“Coyle, sir.”
Cirba stepped in closer so that the man had to lean back to look him in the eyes. “Well, Mr Coyle, if I hear about any of the people at this fracking place doing anything other than shouting at this kid – and I mean anything – you’ll be looking at the inside of a cell that you will share with a three-hundred pound man who will rename you Lucille. You got that?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you are going to make sure everyone here knows what I said?”
“Yes, sir.”
Cirba got on the phone and reported to headquarters what was going on.
“Ryan,” Cirba shouted, “I mean it about busting you to hell if you hurt somebody. Now, I’ve got some squad cars coming and they’re going to put up signs warning drivers about falling… dead birds, I guess. Will you do me a favour and not throw shit until then?”
“OK,” Ryan said.
“Ryan,” Harry shouted, “I’ll call the newspapers so they can warn drivers too.”
It took a moment for Ryan to get what had just been offered but then a voice that would have made Henry David proud said: “That would be awesome.”
As they turned, Coyle said to Harry: “Do I know you?”
“Don’t think so,” Harry replied as he hurried to the car.
At the Hazelton headquarters, Cirba read a report from the tech department and frowned. He handed it to Harry. It corroborated the mayor’s assertion that the laptop he had bought was the one voted best in the computer magazine they had found in his house.
Cirba gave Trooper Gostigan the job of searching Eileen’s house. “Go gentle and try not to make a mess. You probably won’t find anything.”
“So what you’re saying,” the young trooper said, “is that this search is mostly just covering your ass.”
Cirba shrugged. “Didn’t I tell you? Covering my ass is your job description.”
Harry put a photo of Eileen on the crime board between a photo of the mayor and her almost ex-husband, Frank. In the picture, Charlie was smiling his politician smile but Frank was glancing off to the left, at his wife, with a suspicious look.
“I’d ask you what to do next,” Cirba said to Harry, “but I know what you are going to say.”
“That’s right, boss, let’s go over it again from the top.”
But just as they were about to begin, the captain’s voice bellowed all over the station. “CIRBA, CULL.”
The two men looked at each other and simultaneously said: “Shit.”
* * *
Again the captain was on the phone. When Cirba and Harry went to take a chair, he covered the receiver and said: “Don’t sit, you won’t be here that long.”
Harry was pondering what that meant when the captain hung up the phone.
“You two were at the entrance of the old quarry fracking site today, yes?”
“Yes, sir,” Cirba said.
“Well, I just received a phone call from Keystone Drilling. They wanted to know if I had a police officer called Cull. I pointed out that I had no such officer but I did have a consultant by that name. And you know what he told me?”
Harry and Ed did, but neither of them said anything. “He informed me that a man identical to Mr Cull presented himself at the drill site last week as a representative of Keystone Drilling’s PR team and that he used the name – get this – Mr Sam Noop. Mr Fucking S. Noop. What have you to say about this, Trooper Cirba?”
Harry answered before Ed could open his mouth. “This is all my fau—”
“I am speaking to my officer, Cull, I’ll get to you in a minute.”
“But he doesn’t know about it, sir. I did it on my own volition. I just wanted to see what the place was like. I didn’t find anything and I didn’t tell anybody.”
“Is this true, Cirba?”
Ed looked at Harry. It was true that he hadn’t condoned the operation and had been annoyed when he found out, but he had known about it. Harry didn’t dare give him any signals with the captain staring at them.
“This is news to me, sir,” Cirba said.
The captain returned his attention to Harry. “I told you, Cull, when we first met, that we work on the legal side of the line – did I not?”
“Yes, sir, but in my defence I toured the site before we spoke.”
For a moment Harry thought the captain was going to punch him. Instead, he pointed to the door. “I want you gone, Cull. From this case, from this building, from this county and I swear to god if this little stunt costs us the case, I’m going to come and find you.”
“Yes, sir,” Harry said practically standing to attention.
“What did I just say to you?” the captain asked.
“That you want me gone, sir?”
“THEN GO,” the captain shouted, and Harry went.
* * *
Harry hid in the corner of the serious crimes room until Cirba emerged. He had no idea how Ed was going to react, so he prepared himself for everything from a shout to a slug.
“Sorry about throwing you under a bus in there,” Cirba said.
Harry relaxed. “You didn’t throw me under anything, Ed. This was all my fault. The only thing you did in there was not jump under the bus with me. It was the right choice.”
Cirba nodded. “I would have stopped you from doing something that dumb if you had told me.”
“That’s why I didn’t tell you.”
“Listen,” Cirba said, gesturing to the captain’s office, “he’s serious about you leaving the county. He wants you gone.”
“He can’t do that.”
“No, but he can make your life miserable.”
“And yours?”
Cirba shrugged.
Harry picked up his polygraph case and looked to see if anything else of his was lying around. “Call me, Ed, if you need anything or you just want to bounce theories.”
“Count on it.”
“And say goodbye to MK for me. Tell her I’ll call when things settle down.”
“She ain’t talking to me either, partner… but I’ll try.”
They shook hands and nodded. Before Harry reached the door, Cirba said: “Harry, ever since I met you I’ve kept an eye out for your boy. I’ll keep that up.”
Harry mouthed an inaudible, “Thanks,” and left.
In the car Harry thought about all of the people he would have liked to have said goodbye to. This little distraction of a job had become more important to him than he could have imagined. He toyed with the idea of swinging by the old quarry road and shouting, “so long” to Ryan in the trees when he remembered his promise. He called the newspapers and told them about the young man’s treetop protest.
* * *
MK’s place was quiet with no cars outside. She was probably keeping Eileen company at her house as it was being searched. He imagined the sisters talking to each other about what a horrible mistake MK had made in trusting him. Before he packed, Harry decided to treat himself to one last Ice Lake moment. He filled Todd’s elephant teapot and brought the remaining Pepperidge Farm cookies onto the deck. The sun was sparkling off the gently rippling water. God, he was going to miss that view. He thought about the landscape of traffic on Haverford Ave that was the usual scenery from his suburban Philadelphia apartment. He decided then and there he needed a different place to live.
* * *
Try as he might Harry had difficulty relaxing into his last lakefront teatime. After finding his little corner of paradise, complete with the girl of his dreams, he couldn’t help but conclude that everything was fucked up and it was entirely his fault. The stunt at the fracking site was absolutely his fault – a stupid mistake – the kind of thing that happens to rookie detectives who watch too many TV cop shows. And then there was the way he had treated MK’s sister. Even though she had motive and opportunity, he intuitively knew that Eileen hadn’t killed anybody. He had gotten so wrapped up in playing cop again that he’d chosen to be a hard ass professional over being… human. He was not only a jerk to her, he was a major jerk to the woman he was falling in love with. Had he fallen in love with her? Well, what did it matter now? The beautiful saloon girl with the heart of gold wasn’t speaking to him and the sheriff had run him out of town.
He breathed in the crisp mountain air with his sigh and took in the glittering vista around him. It only helped to darken his mood. His pity-fest would have gone on indefinitely, if Harry hadn’t been distracted by a man walking towards the property on the lake edge. The first time Harry had seen a person walking on his rented front lawn he’d been a bit taken aback, but MK had explained to him that property owners didn’t actually own the six feet of land that borders the lake. That was public, and it was the homeowner’s responsibility to keep the way clear so that all Ice Lakers could perambulate the shore.
The man was dressed in a white shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbow, grey business slacks, and dress shoes. Harry would have put money on the odds that he had been wearing a suit jacket before the start of his walk. He was an older man but sported a full crop of peppered black hair atop sharp thin features.
“I’m sorry to disturb you,” the man said in an accent Harry couldn’t place. “I was told this route is allowed.”
“It is. And a disturbance is welcome,” Harry replied.
The man smiled without showing his teeth. “Tea with such a view – very civilized. Do you have another cup for an old man?”
Harry was a bit taken aback when the man pulled up a plastic chair and sat down. There was no smile of irony when he said: “That is very kind of you,” as if it was a command.
Harry leapt up to get a cup from the kitchen. He forced himself to chuckle over the temerity of the old guy inviting himself but deep down he didn’t feel like laughing. Something about him wasn’t… funny. When he returned there was smoke puffing up from his guest’s chair. He placed the cup on the plastic table between them and poured the stranger a cup.
“I hope you don’t mind me smoking,” the man said. “There are so few places where it is allowed these days other than in the great outdoors.” He reached into his pocket and opened a leather custom cigar case that still contained two cigars. “Would you care for one – they are Cuban?”
“Thank you, no,” Harry said. “I’ve had a cigar already this week – two would be one too many, but please, be my guest.” Harry poured his guest a cup. “Milk?”
“How else.”
Harry was honing in on the accent now. It was New York/Jersey with a touch of old world in it. German, he was thinking but it was too faint to be sure.
The man took a sip and sighed with satisfaction. “I was half expecting Earl Grey.”
“The selection of fine teas is limited in the Pocono Mountains.”
“Yes, I suppose it is. Please, don’t get me wrong, this tea is wonderful and an unexpected pleasure, especially accompanied with this view.”
“Yes,” Harry sighed.
“I hear heaviness with that ‘yes’?”
“It is my last tea by the lake. I’m back to the city after this.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
“Yes. It is beautiful here,” the older man said, “but, what do the locals say about this place? That it is a little corner of paradise – yes?”
“I have heard that.”
“But I have always found that it’s best not to linger too long in paradise lest you learn its flaw.”
“And that is?” Harry asked intrigued.
“The problem with paradise is that it is dull.”
Harry laughed out loud at that. “This paradise has been everything but dull, believe me.”
“Ah, then there must have been a woman involved,” the man said as he raised his eyebrows and flicked his cigar.
“Yes, there was,” Harry said, wrinkling his brow. “What are you, a mind reader?”
“I’m just an old man who has been around. When a young man overcomes dullness it is a safe bet that a woman is involved. But it sounds by the tense that it didn’t work out.”
“No, it didn’t.”
“Pity, but still, as a wise man once said, ‘Solitude sometimes is best society’.’”
“What wise man was that?”
“Milton,” the man said, sporting another of his thin smiles, “Paradise Lost.”
“You live around here?”
“No, just visiting relatives,” he downed his cup, “who must be worried about me. Thank you for your hospitality.”
He stood quickly and offered Harry his hand. Harry shook it. The old man’s grip was surprisingly strong and he didn’t let go. “I’m glad you are leaving, Mr Cull. This place doesn’t seem to make you happy.”
He turned and walked quickly away in the same direction he had come. Before Harry could place his cup on the table, he was at the edge of the property. Harry had to almost shout. “I don’t recall having ever told you my name.”
The old guy didn’t look around.
Harry frowned and began to replay the conversation in his head. His review was disturbed by a phone call. It was his mother.
Harry flippantly told people that he had learned to be an interrogator from his mother. She could spot a falsehood even before you said it. She was better than any polygraph, she was practically clairvoyant. This was only half a joke. The older Harry got the more he believed that his father had left because his wife could read his mind.
Harry’s mom asked how he was and when he said “fine” she replied, “I don’t believe you.” So he told her about the case and about MK. He didn’t fight it anymore – she would get it out of him eventually.
“I’m sorry, honey,” his mother said. “You sound like you hurt. I won’t even ask you to come by on your way home and clean my gutters, but if you do, I’ll cook you a good meal.”
Harry laughed. “I’ll be there later today, Ma, and I’d be happy to clean your gutters.”
He hung up, still smiling. He thought about how Harmony had said she had been attracted to Big Bill because he was good to his mother. Maybe he’d find himself a nice stripper next. He packed his things in one bag, leaving only a can of Spam and, after some deliberation, the elephant teapot.
* * *
After not getting a reply to his knocks, Harry let himself into Frank’s workshop. Frank, operating a loud circular saw, was startled when he saw Harry. He let go of the wood he was cutting and a piece of it spun across the room.
“Jesus,” Frank said, as the sound of the saw spun down. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“Sorry,” Harry said. “You got all your fingers?”
Frank looked at both his hands and said: “Yeah. Want a beer?”
Harry said no, but Frank tilted his head and said: “You know you look like you could use a beer.”
He couldn’t really argue with that, and caught the can when Frank tossed it.
Outside, sitting in a beach chair, Harry handed over his house keys.
“When you weren’t punching me in the gut, you were a pretty good tenant,” Frank said, taking the fob. “I’m sorry to see you go.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry to be going. I’m going to miss waking up on the lake.”
“Ice Lake can get under your skin, and that’s no lie. So can a Keller girl. I thought you an’ MK had something’ goin’ on?”
“Not since… you know.”
Frank looked confused.
“Haven’t you heard?”
“No.”
Harry began to speak, but then said: “You will. You mind if I’m not the one that tells you?”
“OK,” Frank said then reached out his can. “To ignorance.”
Harry clinked his beer can with his ex-landlord and wondered if Frank was going to be as amiable when he heard the news that his ex was sleeping with the mayor.
Harry turned down a second brew and Frank guided his guest to the car through various bits of wood and building materials. As Harry placed his hand on his car door he stopped and surprised himself by asking: “And how’s your mother, Frank?”
“She’s fine, when she recognizes me. Actually, she’s fine when she doesn’t. I hear all sorts of horror stories about people with Alzheimer’s. There’s a woman at the Lake Wallenpaupack Home who screams in terror every time her son visits her. At least Ma’s happy to see me – whether she knows who I am or not.”
* * *
As Harry negotiated the fifteen miles an hour speed limit around the lake he wondered why he had asked Frank about his mom. He had learned long ago during interrogations not to ignore questions that just popped into his head because, more often than not, it was his subconscious trying to tell him something.
His subconscious hadn’t revealed its thinking by the time Harry passed the store. He knew he really should be getting on the road, but he couldn’t resist stopping in for one last donut.
* * *
“Holy fuck, Mr Cull, you’re a legend. First you lay out Frank and now you arrest the fucking mayor. I’m gonna fry you up a Spam and egg sandwich.”
Harry started to say no, but then realized he hadn’t eaten much today.
“You catch your killer?” Todd asked while pouring coffee.
“No and, technically, I’m out of the killer-catching biz.”
“How come?”
“I got canned, if the truth be told.”
“Ah, that’s what happens when you arrest men of power. The mayor has influential friends, eh?” Todd threw two slices of Spam on the skillet, where they sizzled.
“No backroom influence, Todd, just stupidity on my part.”
“Whatcha do?”
Harry told him about sneaking into the fracking site.
“Fucking land-raping scumbags. There was another tremor this morning – did you feel it?”
“No.”
“I hear the cops are searching Eileen’s place. So, do you think Charlie and Eileen killed Billy?” When Harry didn’t answer, Todd went on. “Now, you know that I think the mayor is a douchebag and Eileen is a cow but, son, I don’t see them shooting Billy. Ya know?”
Harry tried to come up with some words to defend the direction the police were going but finally said: “I can’t see them being killers either.”
“So whatcha gonna do?”
“I’m not doing nothing, Todd, I’m leaving as soon as I finish this sandwich.”
“What? You’re giving up MK poontang.”
“I’m not sure I want to reply to a statement as unpleasant as that but MK doesn’t want anything to do with the guy who wants to arrest her sister.”
“Hell, son, she’s the finest piece of ass in the borough, and that’s no lie, and you don’t even think her sister did it. You’re just gonna leave? Shit, I thought you was smart.”
Todd tossed the sandwich on a plate, threw it at Harry, then shuffled upstairs to answer the phone.
Harry savoured the canned, preserved and fried delicacy as he tried to dismiss what Todd had said. Between vulgarities the old guy made sense. Giving up on the investigation now made Harry feel like he was abandoning a sinking ship. He knew that after the stunt he pulled he couldn’t work with the cops anymore, but who did the captain think he was – Wyatt Earp? The head of the state police didn’t have the authority to ride him out of town without a court order and probably couldn’t even with one.
Todd came back down the stairs and said: “Shit, maybe you’re right putting this fucked up place behind you. You’ll be missed, Harry. You brought a little excitement to Ice Lake, and that’s no lie.”
He held out his hand to shake but Harry, lost in thought, seemed to look right through him.
“Todd, how do I get to Lake Wallenpaupack Nursing Home?”