out since the spring. He doesn’t care. He’s used to smoking cigars past their prime.
While Donald loads the bag Ian pulls out his wallet and removes Maggie’s photo from it. He holds it up in front of Donald.
‘You remember my daughter?’
Donald nods. ‘’Course.’
‘You didn’t see anyone resembling her today?’
‘Huh-uh,’ he says with his mouth hanging open. Ian can see bits of red vine ground into his molars like wax fillings.
‘And you didn’t hear anything?’
He shakes his head. ‘Like I told Chief Davis.’
‘What about a guy in his sixties? Tall, gray hair, balding on top, busted capillaries in his nose. Heavy.’
Donald lets out a strange giggle and grins with his too-many teeth, but when Ian gives him a dead pan the smile vanishes, and he stares down at the counter nervously and scratches at something sticking to it, part of a price sticker looks like, with a dirty fingernail.
‘What’s funny?’
Donald shakes his head. ‘Nothing, it’s just, you know, you described damn near half the fat old alcoholics in town.’ He looks from Chief Davis to Ian and a smile grows once more on his face. ‘Hell,’ he says, ‘you just described my brother Henry.’
Chief Davis snorts once.
‘True enough,’ he says. ‘How is Henry, anyway? I haven’t said much more than hello to him since high school, I reckon.’
‘He’s okay, I guess.’
‘Still working at the community college?’
‘Uh-huh.’ Donald nods.
‘If you see anyone looks like my daughter, I want you to call. I’d rather a false alarm than to miss our chance.’
‘I will,’ Donald says. He wipes the sweat from his upper lip with a downward swipe of his palm, and then wipes his sweaty palm onto the leg of his pants. ‘I will,’ he says again.
Ian and Chief Davis step into the daylight. It seems bright even after Ian puts his sunglasses back on. An oppressive wall of heat surrounds them. Ian reaches into his bag and pulls out one of his cigars. He bites the end off, spits it to the parking lot asphalt, plugs the stick into his mouth. He lights it, looking past it to Diego. Diego standing with his arms crossed, watching one of the boys from Mencken pulling fingerprints.
Then the sheriff himself pulls up in the Ford Expedition Tonkawa County provides for him and screeches to a stop. He steps from the thing, all five feet five of him, all two hundred and sixty pounds of him. He walks toward Ian and Chief Davis, belly swinging before him like a wrecking ball.
Ian glances at his watch.
‘I’ll let you talk to the sheriff,’ he says. ‘I need to tell Deb. Call if there’s any developments.’
‘I will. And Ian,’ he says, patting him on the shoulder. ‘Stop in at Roberta’s tonight, okay? You shouldn’t be alone through this.’
‘I’ll think about it,’ Ian says, knowing he won’t.
Maggie opened her eyes and saw white white white: the ceiling. She tongued the place where her loose tooth should have been, but all that was there now was smooth wet gum and a bloody divot that tasted vaguely of metal.
Someone took it, she thought. Tooth fairy took it and didn’t pay. Stole it.
Then it occurred to her that maybe the tooth fairy had paid. She flipped over in bed and tossed the pillow aside, but the only thing beneath it was wrinkled sheet. There was no green dollar bill awaiting discovery. Not even a lousy quarter. She couldn’t believe the tooth fairy would sneak into her bedroom in the dark of night and yank her tooth from her mouth. What a butthole. She briefly considered putting a fake tooth beneath her pillow—a piece of chalk, maybe, or else a white stone if she could find one of the right size—and pretending to sleep so that when the tooth fairy came she could grab him and force him to pay for what he had taken from her.
But then she saw it on the floor. It lay half-buried in the thick carpet. She hopped from her bed and picked it up. She brushed off the dirt specks it had
While Donald loads the bag Ian pulls out his wallet and removes Maggie’s photo from it. He holds it up in front of Donald.
‘You remember my daughter?’
Donald nods. ‘’Course.’
‘You didn’t see anyone resembling her today?’
‘Huh-uh,’ he says with his mouth hanging open. Ian can see bits of red vine ground into his molars like wax fillings.
‘And you didn’t hear anything?’
He shakes his head. ‘Like I told Chief Davis.’
‘What about a guy in his sixties? Tall, gray hair, balding on top, busted capillaries in his nose. Heavy.’
Donald lets out a strange giggle and grins with his too-many teeth, but when Ian gives him a dead pan the smile vanishes, and he stares down at the counter nervously and scratches at something sticking to it, part of a price sticker looks like, with a dirty fingernail.
‘What’s funny?’
Donald shakes his head. ‘Nothing, it’s just, you know, you described damn near half the fat old alcoholics in town.’ He looks from Chief Davis to Ian and a smile grows once more on his face. ‘Hell,’ he says, ‘you just described my brother Henry.’
Chief Davis snorts once.
‘True enough,’ he says. ‘How is Henry, anyway? I haven’t said much more than hello to him since high school, I reckon.’
‘He’s okay, I guess.’
‘Still working at the community college?’
‘Uh-huh.’ Donald nods.
‘If you see anyone looks like my daughter, I want you to call. I’d rather a false alarm than to miss our chance.’
‘I will,’ Donald says. He wipes the sweat from his upper lip with a downward swipe of his palm, and then wipes his sweaty palm onto the leg of his pants. ‘I will,’ he says again.
Ian and Chief Davis step into the daylight. It seems bright even after Ian puts his sunglasses back on. An oppressive wall of heat surrounds them. Ian reaches into his bag and pulls out one of his cigars. He bites the end off, spits it to the parking lot asphalt, plugs the stick into his mouth. He lights it, looking past it to Diego. Diego standing with his arms crossed, watching one of the boys from Mencken pulling fingerprints.
Then the sheriff himself pulls up in the Ford Expedition Tonkawa County provides for him and screeches to a stop. He steps from the thing, all five feet five of him, all two hundred and sixty pounds of him. He walks toward Ian and Chief Davis, belly swinging before him like a wrecking ball.
Ian glances at his watch.
‘I’ll let you talk to the sheriff,’ he says. ‘I need to tell Deb. Call if there’s any developments.’
‘I will. And Ian,’ he says, patting him on the shoulder. ‘Stop in at Roberta’s tonight, okay? You shouldn’t be alone through this.’
‘I’ll think about it,’ Ian says, knowing he won’t.
Maggie opened her eyes and saw white white white: the ceiling. She tongued the place where her loose tooth should have been, but all that was there now was smooth wet gum and a bloody divot that tasted vaguely of metal.
Someone took it, she thought. Tooth fairy took it and didn’t pay. Stole it.
Then it occurred to her that maybe the tooth fairy had paid. She flipped over in bed and tossed the pillow aside, but the only thing beneath it was wrinkled sheet. There was no green dollar bill awaiting discovery. Not even a lousy quarter. She couldn’t believe the tooth fairy would sneak into her bedroom in the dark of night and yank her tooth from her mouth. What a butthole. She briefly considered putting a fake tooth beneath her pillow—a piece of chalk, maybe, or else a white stone if she could find one of the right size—and pretending to sleep so that when the tooth fairy came she could grab him and force him to pay for what he had taken from her.
But then she saw it on the floor. It lay half-buried in the thick carpet. She hopped from her bed and picked it up. She brushed off the dirt specks it had
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