message. It was from a man I’ve known for a lot of years, and it upset me enough to make me risk my Oldsmobile to Airport Road in a sleet storm. “Maybe I should have just sent a car, Chief, and I hate to disturb you during your social occasion—”
“Dance, Hiram. I got to this place, and I want you to knowthese folks are dancing! Drinking, probably even cussing and card-playing in the back rooms. It makes a man want to fall to his knees and pray.”
“I hope so, Chief.” (Jokes slide off Davies like chestnuts off a steep tin roof.) “But since Mr. Rosethorn did say to tell you personally, that's why I decided—”
“Tell me what?”
I could hear Hiram shuffling his notes. “A pickup truck, license AX four one five seven nine, passed Dollard Prison gate twice, slowing near the vigil group; male Caucasians, obscenities and verbal threats shouted.”
“Who told Isaac Rosethorn this? Who and when?”
“He's over there at the prison.”
“Isaac?”
“Isn’t he, he's Hall's lawyer now, isn’t he? At least that's—”
“Jesus Christ, what's a man his age doing marching around with a sign in the middle of the night in this weather?!”
Davies pinched off his words, one at a time. “I couldn’t say, sir. That truck is registered to a Willis Tate, Jr., lives in Raleigh, one previous arrest, vandalism.”
I started my motor. “You’re a hot dog, Hiram, no getting around it. Call Raleigh, ask them to go after that yahoo. I’m heading out there.”
He said he’d send a car for me, and I said never mind it, and he said it wasn’t his place to argue, which had never stopped him before and didn’t this time. Finally he got around to sharing a second part to the message from Isaac. “He said to tell you Lieutenant Governor Lewis had just driven up with another man in a limousine, and gone inside the prison. He said you would want—”
“I’ll be goddamned!” I slapped my hand on my thigh so hard I hurt both of them. “Fuck the ducks, they stopped it.”
“I couldn’t say, sir.” There was a faint snort at my profanity. “And Chief Mangum, what would you like me to do? The holding cell's full and I’ve got a drunk-and-disorderly keeping everybody awake. Four joy riders, two breaking-and-entering. And Norm Brown on wife assault again.” Davies loved a full report, though he usually phrased it in terms of questions he didn’t need the answer to,so I listened while I drove. “Attempted burglary, Maplewood Pawnshop, apprehended on the scene. Three purses snatched in River Rise Mall. Purley Newsome caught one of them.”
“He didn’t kill him, did he?” (Officer Purley Newsome was a leftover from the old regime, with a brother on the city council.)
“—And considerable shoplifting. It's busy tonight.”
“Well, it's only four more shopping days to Christmas. Folks get tense.” I turned the heater higher and turned onto Airport Road.
“—And we had a jumper on the roof at Showtime Cinema; Officer White talked him down, and then Officer White had him admitted to U.H. for observation.” (Davies’ refusal to acknowledge, by name or pronoun, that we had women—like Nancy White—on the force, drove him into a lot of syntactical byroads. He was like an old monk, stunned to find nuns sleeping in his monastery.) “Officer reports his condition satisfactory.”
“Tell Nancy she's a good lady. Aww, humankind, Hiram. Makes you wonder where God went and forgot to turn on His answering machine. Who's the loud drunk?”
Davies squeezed his voice so tight it turned falsetto. “The Lord answers all who call on Him. The drunk's Billy Gilchrist.”
“Lock him in the interrogation room, he can sleep on the table.”
“I already did.”
Sergeant Davies signed off in a huff. I put on Patsy Cline. I still hate to think of that woman's plane crashing. “Why can’t I forget the past, and love somebody new…” Her voice was so sweet with sadness, I slid down into a memory of Lee Haver as
“Dance, Hiram. I got to this place, and I want you to knowthese folks are dancing! Drinking, probably even cussing and card-playing in the back rooms. It makes a man want to fall to his knees and pray.”
“I hope so, Chief.” (Jokes slide off Davies like chestnuts off a steep tin roof.) “But since Mr. Rosethorn did say to tell you personally, that's why I decided—”
“Tell me what?”
I could hear Hiram shuffling his notes. “A pickup truck, license AX four one five seven nine, passed Dollard Prison gate twice, slowing near the vigil group; male Caucasians, obscenities and verbal threats shouted.”
“Who told Isaac Rosethorn this? Who and when?”
“He's over there at the prison.”
“Isaac?”
“Isn’t he, he's Hall's lawyer now, isn’t he? At least that's—”
“Jesus Christ, what's a man his age doing marching around with a sign in the middle of the night in this weather?!”
Davies pinched off his words, one at a time. “I couldn’t say, sir. That truck is registered to a Willis Tate, Jr., lives in Raleigh, one previous arrest, vandalism.”
I started my motor. “You’re a hot dog, Hiram, no getting around it. Call Raleigh, ask them to go after that yahoo. I’m heading out there.”
He said he’d send a car for me, and I said never mind it, and he said it wasn’t his place to argue, which had never stopped him before and didn’t this time. Finally he got around to sharing a second part to the message from Isaac. “He said to tell you Lieutenant Governor Lewis had just driven up with another man in a limousine, and gone inside the prison. He said you would want—”
“I’ll be goddamned!” I slapped my hand on my thigh so hard I hurt both of them. “Fuck the ducks, they stopped it.”
“I couldn’t say, sir.” There was a faint snort at my profanity. “And Chief Mangum, what would you like me to do? The holding cell's full and I’ve got a drunk-and-disorderly keeping everybody awake. Four joy riders, two breaking-and-entering. And Norm Brown on wife assault again.” Davies loved a full report, though he usually phrased it in terms of questions he didn’t need the answer to,so I listened while I drove. “Attempted burglary, Maplewood Pawnshop, apprehended on the scene. Three purses snatched in River Rise Mall. Purley Newsome caught one of them.”
“He didn’t kill him, did he?” (Officer Purley Newsome was a leftover from the old regime, with a brother on the city council.)
“—And considerable shoplifting. It's busy tonight.”
“Well, it's only four more shopping days to Christmas. Folks get tense.” I turned the heater higher and turned onto Airport Road.
“—And we had a jumper on the roof at Showtime Cinema; Officer White talked him down, and then Officer White had him admitted to U.H. for observation.” (Davies’ refusal to acknowledge, by name or pronoun, that we had women—like Nancy White—on the force, drove him into a lot of syntactical byroads. He was like an old monk, stunned to find nuns sleeping in his monastery.) “Officer reports his condition satisfactory.”
“Tell Nancy she's a good lady. Aww, humankind, Hiram. Makes you wonder where God went and forgot to turn on His answering machine. Who's the loud drunk?”
Davies squeezed his voice so tight it turned falsetto. “The Lord answers all who call on Him. The drunk's Billy Gilchrist.”
“Lock him in the interrogation room, he can sleep on the table.”
“I already did.”
Sergeant Davies signed off in a huff. I put on Patsy Cline. I still hate to think of that woman's plane crashing. “Why can’t I forget the past, and love somebody new…” Her voice was so sweet with sadness, I slid down into a memory of Lee Haver as
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