drunk toward the other room.
It wasn’t the boys that came toward me, though, but another man. He was squat and bald and short, maybe five-six to my five-ten. In Wyoming, a state that seems to breed big people, he made me feel tall.
He planted himself in the open doorway and grinned up at me.
“I can’t fucking believe it. Antonio QuickDraw Burns. And looking good, too. What are you supposed to be tonight? A pimp?”
I looked at his rumpled suit and his wide, untidy tie.
“Hey, Luke. What are you supposed to be? A citizen?”
He came out, closing the door behind him.
“Didn’t you hear?” he chortled happily. “I’m the goddamn county attorney. I run this town. I’m here commiserating with my constituents.”
Luke dug in his coat pocket and came out with a pack of budget cigarettes and paper matches.
“These people actually elected you? There must be some really bad water in Badwater.”
Wearing only his socks on his feet, the lawyer gingerly stepped down onto the dirt and waved for me to follow him as he lit up. We walked a little way away from the house and stood between some cars.
“Shit, I can’t believe they’re still letting you run around with a badge and a gun. But the old man was always in love with you. He must be, to let you get away with all that shit. The things I’ve heard about you . . .”
I had to laugh at the irony. Luke, my very first partner, had been fired for tiptoeing across the line. Some warrantless searches, some roughing up of suspects during interrogations, some “personal use” of contraband. My alleged transgressions were far more spectacular. But it was Luke who had gotten the boot. He made up for it, though, by going to law school, getting a degree, and becoming a criminal prosecutor. Now he got to order the investigators around.
He was aware of it, too. He grinned at me.
“Don’t go thinking you’re such a hotshot, Ant, now that you got this badass rep. I’m looking forward to having you as my whipping boy. It’s gonna be like old times.”
“You think this thing is going to get that involved?” I asked. What I meant was,
Do you really plan on charging Jonah?
“It’s a terrible thing,” he said, shaking his head. But I thought I could also see a bit of the grin still on his face. He struck a match and fired up a bent cigarette. After huffing on it a couple of times, frowning deliberately, he added, “You never saw this. My wife hears I’m smoking again and she’ll be all over my ass.”
I waited to hear about her, or even be told her name, but he said nothing. So I tried again.
“Do you think it’s going to take much time? From what I can tell so far, this whole thing was an accident.”
He sucked deep on his cigarette again and blew it out hard. Then he held the cancer stick out from his body, as if trying to avoid the smoke.
“You think so, huh? Those people in that house, I represent them now. Right now they’re thinking that Cody was murdered.”
Murdered? That requires intent to kill or do great bodily harm, and I hadn’t seen any evidence of an intent other than to give an obnoxious kid a soak in the river. But before I could express my skepticism, the front door opened then banged shut and a pair of feet hammered down the dark steps.
The man who was immediately in my face was short, too, by Wyoming standards. About my height, that is, and about the same age as Luke and Mr. Wallis. Unlike them both, this guy was rawhide thin. But his intensity made him seem bigger.
“You the cop who wanted to shoot my boys?” he demanded.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
I looked to Luke. I expected him to at least roll his eyes, in order to indicate that this guy was a wacko, or to step in and say or do something if he wasn’t. But my old partner was looking away. Like he was deep in thought or something. He wasn’t smiling anymore.
“Sir, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I never told anybody to shoot anyone
It wasn’t the boys that came toward me, though, but another man. He was squat and bald and short, maybe five-six to my five-ten. In Wyoming, a state that seems to breed big people, he made me feel tall.
He planted himself in the open doorway and grinned up at me.
“I can’t fucking believe it. Antonio QuickDraw Burns. And looking good, too. What are you supposed to be tonight? A pimp?”
I looked at his rumpled suit and his wide, untidy tie.
“Hey, Luke. What are you supposed to be? A citizen?”
He came out, closing the door behind him.
“Didn’t you hear?” he chortled happily. “I’m the goddamn county attorney. I run this town. I’m here commiserating with my constituents.”
Luke dug in his coat pocket and came out with a pack of budget cigarettes and paper matches.
“These people actually elected you? There must be some really bad water in Badwater.”
Wearing only his socks on his feet, the lawyer gingerly stepped down onto the dirt and waved for me to follow him as he lit up. We walked a little way away from the house and stood between some cars.
“Shit, I can’t believe they’re still letting you run around with a badge and a gun. But the old man was always in love with you. He must be, to let you get away with all that shit. The things I’ve heard about you . . .”
I had to laugh at the irony. Luke, my very first partner, had been fired for tiptoeing across the line. Some warrantless searches, some roughing up of suspects during interrogations, some “personal use” of contraband. My alleged transgressions were far more spectacular. But it was Luke who had gotten the boot. He made up for it, though, by going to law school, getting a degree, and becoming a criminal prosecutor. Now he got to order the investigators around.
He was aware of it, too. He grinned at me.
“Don’t go thinking you’re such a hotshot, Ant, now that you got this badass rep. I’m looking forward to having you as my whipping boy. It’s gonna be like old times.”
“You think this thing is going to get that involved?” I asked. What I meant was,
Do you really plan on charging Jonah?
“It’s a terrible thing,” he said, shaking his head. But I thought I could also see a bit of the grin still on his face. He struck a match and fired up a bent cigarette. After huffing on it a couple of times, frowning deliberately, he added, “You never saw this. My wife hears I’m smoking again and she’ll be all over my ass.”
I waited to hear about her, or even be told her name, but he said nothing. So I tried again.
“Do you think it’s going to take much time? From what I can tell so far, this whole thing was an accident.”
He sucked deep on his cigarette again and blew it out hard. Then he held the cancer stick out from his body, as if trying to avoid the smoke.
“You think so, huh? Those people in that house, I represent them now. Right now they’re thinking that Cody was murdered.”
Murdered? That requires intent to kill or do great bodily harm, and I hadn’t seen any evidence of an intent other than to give an obnoxious kid a soak in the river. But before I could express my skepticism, the front door opened then banged shut and a pair of feet hammered down the dark steps.
The man who was immediately in my face was short, too, by Wyoming standards. About my height, that is, and about the same age as Luke and Mr. Wallis. Unlike them both, this guy was rawhide thin. But his intensity made him seem bigger.
“You the cop who wanted to shoot my boys?” he demanded.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
I looked to Luke. I expected him to at least roll his eyes, in order to indicate that this guy was a wacko, or to step in and say or do something if he wasn’t. But my old partner was looking away. Like he was deep in thought or something. He wasn’t smiling anymore.
“Sir, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I never told anybody to shoot anyone
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