out of prison.”
“So he comes here to buy a dime bag and steal his uncle’s twelve-year-old Pontiac? That makes no sense.” Caroline held the photo in front of her, staring into the man’s eyes. “So why’s he here?”
“Who knows,” Dupree said. “Maybe no reason, a guy like that.”
“A guy like what?”
“Like a top,” Dupree said.
“A top?”
“You’re too young to remember tops. Had a big round end and a pointy end. Wrap a string on the round end, pull, and it spins on the pointy end.” Dupree couldn’t believe there was a theory he hadn’t shared with her, this top theory. After four weeks with Spivey, he was excited to be teaching again. “A guy like this, you yank on his string and he’s gonna spin around for a while, bump into things, careen off, till he just spins off the table or hits something that stops him. You can’t apply the rules of reason and logic to a thing spinning in circles.”
She grinned. “So you think I pulled his string?”
“No.” Dupree was sorry he’d brought it up. “Not you. The bust. Guy gets out of prison and now he’s gonna be arrested for a hand-to-hand dope deal? He doesn’t want to go back, so he pushes your guy into the river to get away. Bang. You got a top.”
“He doesn’t want to be arrested for a misdemeanor drug deal, so he commits felony murder? How much sense does that make?”
“My point exactly. A top doesn’t make sense. Just spins.”
“And so, what, we just wait for the top to stop spinning?”
Dupree considered the question half as hard as he considered the lines above her eyes. “How’s your mom?” he asked after a moment.
“Fine,” Caroline said.
“She feeling better?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. I’m glad.”
Caroline looked once more at the photo, and it seemed to Dupree that she was memorizing every detail of Lenny Ryan’s face, his blockish head and thick sandy hair, his dark eyebrows and cocked mouth. Then she handed the photo back to Dupree. “You need anything else from me?”
“No. I think that’s it. What’ve you got today?”
“We’re raiding a house over in East Central at ten. Burn’s supplier.”
“Undercover?”
Caroline laughed. “Not me. I’m in the truck. I don’t think they’re gonna let me play dress-up with the fellas for a while.”
“I suppose.” Dupree shifted, still trying to figure out how to approach the things he had so much trouble talking about. “You seem a little…how are you?”
“Lane wants me to see someone in professional services. I made some noise about talking to my guild rep and he turned and ran like he was on fire.”
Dupree nodded, then stood and stuck his hands in his pockets, thinking that maybe he could strike a pose that would say the things he couldn’t, express his feelings for her in a way that wasn’t creepy, because creepiness seemed a definite possibility, given the things he was thinking just then. “There’d be no shame in seeing someone. You know that, right? Might even help.”
“You know, you’re right,” she said. “You really ought to go.”
He smiled at her sharpness and felt a pride and a responsibility that were different from the other thing he felt around her, the shortened breath, the gentle tug and taunt of her proximity. Sometimes he would stare at a hand-sized place on her body, the notch above her hip, the curve of her calf, the groove at the back of her neck, and he worried about the loyalty of his hands, daydreamed about their betrayal. And he wished that putting a hand on her side would be enough, even though he knew it couldn’t be.
The interview room was narrow and long, with a table at its center and no windows, no two-way mirror from the movies, just a door and walls that pressed against Dupree, that hummed with the promise and threat of intimacy. He cleared his throat and looked at the photo of Lenny Ryan again.
“Hey, this is my kids’ swimming instructor.”
She smiled and, having felt the tug too,
“So he comes here to buy a dime bag and steal his uncle’s twelve-year-old Pontiac? That makes no sense.” Caroline held the photo in front of her, staring into the man’s eyes. “So why’s he here?”
“Who knows,” Dupree said. “Maybe no reason, a guy like that.”
“A guy like what?”
“Like a top,” Dupree said.
“A top?”
“You’re too young to remember tops. Had a big round end and a pointy end. Wrap a string on the round end, pull, and it spins on the pointy end.” Dupree couldn’t believe there was a theory he hadn’t shared with her, this top theory. After four weeks with Spivey, he was excited to be teaching again. “A guy like this, you yank on his string and he’s gonna spin around for a while, bump into things, careen off, till he just spins off the table or hits something that stops him. You can’t apply the rules of reason and logic to a thing spinning in circles.”
She grinned. “So you think I pulled his string?”
“No.” Dupree was sorry he’d brought it up. “Not you. The bust. Guy gets out of prison and now he’s gonna be arrested for a hand-to-hand dope deal? He doesn’t want to go back, so he pushes your guy into the river to get away. Bang. You got a top.”
“He doesn’t want to be arrested for a misdemeanor drug deal, so he commits felony murder? How much sense does that make?”
“My point exactly. A top doesn’t make sense. Just spins.”
“And so, what, we just wait for the top to stop spinning?”
Dupree considered the question half as hard as he considered the lines above her eyes. “How’s your mom?” he asked after a moment.
“Fine,” Caroline said.
“She feeling better?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. I’m glad.”
Caroline looked once more at the photo, and it seemed to Dupree that she was memorizing every detail of Lenny Ryan’s face, his blockish head and thick sandy hair, his dark eyebrows and cocked mouth. Then she handed the photo back to Dupree. “You need anything else from me?”
“No. I think that’s it. What’ve you got today?”
“We’re raiding a house over in East Central at ten. Burn’s supplier.”
“Undercover?”
Caroline laughed. “Not me. I’m in the truck. I don’t think they’re gonna let me play dress-up with the fellas for a while.”
“I suppose.” Dupree shifted, still trying to figure out how to approach the things he had so much trouble talking about. “You seem a little…how are you?”
“Lane wants me to see someone in professional services. I made some noise about talking to my guild rep and he turned and ran like he was on fire.”
Dupree nodded, then stood and stuck his hands in his pockets, thinking that maybe he could strike a pose that would say the things he couldn’t, express his feelings for her in a way that wasn’t creepy, because creepiness seemed a definite possibility, given the things he was thinking just then. “There’d be no shame in seeing someone. You know that, right? Might even help.”
“You know, you’re right,” she said. “You really ought to go.”
He smiled at her sharpness and felt a pride and a responsibility that were different from the other thing he felt around her, the shortened breath, the gentle tug and taunt of her proximity. Sometimes he would stare at a hand-sized place on her body, the notch above her hip, the curve of her calf, the groove at the back of her neck, and he worried about the loyalty of his hands, daydreamed about their betrayal. And he wished that putting a hand on her side would be enough, even though he knew it couldn’t be.
The interview room was narrow and long, with a table at its center and no windows, no two-way mirror from the movies, just a door and walls that pressed against Dupree, that hummed with the promise and threat of intimacy. He cleared his throat and looked at the photo of Lenny Ryan again.
“Hey, this is my kids’ swimming instructor.”
She smiled and, having felt the tug too,
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