Chapter 19
Sheriff Stallard and Baxter were on their way too. In the police car on the dirt road that led to Lake Sassaquassee. Alerted by the guy at Lossville, who’d had trouble with the stampeding bears, that Mr and Mrs Immelmann were having a quarrel that had to be heard to be believed and if the police didn’t hurry and get there soon someone was going to die, the Sheriff was puzzled. He couldn’t see how anyone who admitted he was at home ten miles from the Immelmann place could know what was going on there. By the time he got within five miles he knew exactly. Even with the car windows shut it was possible to hear Auntie Joan yelling that she was fucked if she was going to be sodomised and that if Wally wanted to do that dirty thing with someone he’d better find a gay who enjoyed it. The Sheriff didn’t like it either and the man at Lossville said his wife couldn’t bear it. Listening to it, that is. He was thinking of suing. He’d had enough trouble shooting all those bears without a licence and they were protected animals and the fucking police…The Sheriff turned the communications off. He was more interested in hearing about Dr Cohen and it was coming through loud and clear. At four miles. Not that the Sheriff knew that. He’d never been up to the Immelmann house before. On the other hand he’d never heard anyone shout that loud even in the next room. The man at Lossville was right. This was a domestic dispute to end all domestic disputes. And the business about the Watergate hearings tasting and where her pussy was and had she been totalled when she’d had the hysterectomy was too incredible to put into words. Leastways not so fucking loud the whole world could hear it.
‘How far now?’ the Sheriff yelled above the din.
‘Got another two miles,’ Baxter told him.
The Sheriff looked at him as if he was a crazy. ‘What do you mean two miles? Stop the car. They’ve got to be right here. Somewhere real close.’
Baxter stopped the car and the Sheriff opened the door to get out. He didn’t get far. ‘Shit!’ he screamed, slamming the door shut and putting his hands over his ears. ‘Get the hell out of here.’
‘What did you say?’ Baxter yelled, trying to compete with Auntie Joan and the Book of Genesis being written by a Jew of that name.
‘I said, let’s get the fuck out of here before we go deaf. And call up the Public Nuisance Services. They’ve got to have someone who can deal with this. Tell them it’s a Number One Emergency Noisewise.’
Baxter swung the car round on the wet dirt and the Sheriff clung to his seat-belt as they slithered near the edge of a long drop. Then they were heading back to Wilma and Baxter was trying to get contact. All he got was a guy at Lossville screaming that he was going out of his mind and why didn’t someone do something like bomb the Immelmann fucking house. Something sensible and would his wife please put that gun down because shooting him wasn’t going to stop the goddam noise. His wife could be heard saying she was going to shoot herself if those fucking filthy revelations didn’t stop.
‘Put out a Three AAA all bands!’ shouted the Sheriff as the car hurtled down the road.
‘A Three AAA?’ Baxter yelled back. ‘An Atomic Attack Alert? Jesus, we can’t do that. We could be starting a fucking World War.’
He tried Emergency Services again and couldn’t make himself heard. But by then the domestic dispute was coming to an end. There was a brief moment’s respite while the tape rewound and then it started again. Auntie Joan was screaming about sea slugs and Wally leaving his toupee in the bathroom.
