Trailerpark by Russell Banks

have been so bad, however irritating it might have been, had he not been so perverse and contradictory with his opinions. He never seemed to mean what he said, but he said it so cleverly that you felt compelled to take him seriously anyhow. Then, later, when you brought his opinion back to him and tried to make him own up to it and take responsibility for its consequences, he would laugh at you for ever having taken him seriously in the first place. He caused no little friction in the lives of many of the people in the park. When one night Doreen Tiede’s ex-husband arrived at the park drunk and threatening violence, Merle, who happened to be nearby, just coming in from a long night of hornpouting on the lake, stopped and watched with obvious amusement, as if he were watching a movie and not a real man cockeyed drunk and shouting through a locked door at a terrorized woman and child that he was going to kill them both. Buck Tiede caught sight of old Merle standing there at the edge of the road, where the light just reached him, his string of hornpout dangling nearly to the ground (he was on his way to offer his catch to Marcelle, who had a deep-freeze and would hand the ugly fish out next winter when, rolled in batter and fried in deep fat, they would be a treat that reminded people of summer and got them to talking about it again). “You old fart!” Buck, a large and disheveled man, had roared at Merle. “What the hell you lookin’ at! G’wan, get the hell outa here an’ mind your own business!” He made a swiping gesture at Merle, as if he were chasing off a dog.
    Then, according to Marcelle, who had come up behind him in the darkness with her shotgun, Merle said to the man, “Once you kill her, it’s done. Dead is dead. If I was you, Buck, and wanted that woman dead as you seem to, I’d just get me some dynamite and blow the place all to hell. Or better yet, just catch her some day coming out of work down to the tannery, snipe her with a high-powered rifle from a window on the third floor of the Hawthorne House. Then she’d be dead, and you could stop all this hollering and banging on doors and stuff.”
    Buck stared at him in amazement. “What the hell are you saying?”
    â€œI’m saying you ought to get yourself a window up in the Hawthorne House that looks down the hill to the tannery, and when she comes out the door after work, plug her. Get her in the head, to be sure. Just bang, and that’d be that. You could do your daughter the same way. Dead is dead, and you wouldn’t have to go around like this all the time. If you was cute about it, you’d get away with it all right. I could help you arrange it. Give you an alibi, even.” He held up the string of whiskery fish. “I’d tell ’em you was out hornpouting with me.”
    â€œWhat are you telling me to do?” Buck took a step away from the door toward Merle. “You’re crazy.”
    â€œStep aside, Merle, I’ll take care of this,” Marcelle ordered, shouldering the tiny man out of the way and bringing her shotgun to bear on Buck Tiede. “Doreen!” she called out. “You hear me?”
    Buck made a move toward Marcelle.
    â€œStay right where you are, mister, or I’ll splash you all over the wall. You know what a mess a twelve-gauge can make?”
    Buck stood still.
    A thin, frightened voice came from inside. “Marcelle, I’m all right! Oh God, I’m sorry for all this! I’m so sorry!” Then there was weeping, both a woman’s and a child’s.
    â€œForget sorry. Just call the cops. I’ll hold Mister Bigshot here until they come.”
    And she did hold him, frozen and silent at the top of the steps, while Doreen called the police, who came in less than five minutes and hauled Buck off to spend the night in jail. Merle, once Marcelle and her shotgun had taken charge of the situation, had strolled on with his