when you don’t have a shred of evidence that Wickens had a thing to do with it? Try to get the daughter and her boy out when she’s made no official complaint whatsoever? Honest to God, what do you want from me?”
Dad and I looked at each other.
“Also,” I said, “he assaulted me.”
“What?”
“On Main Street. When he found me having coffee with May, Timmy Wickens grabbed my arm and squeezed it.”
Now it was Orville’s turn to try not to laugh. “Did he squeeze it really hard?” His voice dripped with concern. “Go ahead, grab my arm and show me how hard he squeezed. I can take it.”
“Fuck it, never mind,” I said. “Let’s just go up and talk to them about the dogs.”
“The dogs.”
“They have to keep them tied up. Plain and simple. Then, while we’re up there, we play the rest by ear.”
Orville said, “We?”
Dad begged off, saying his ankle was throbbing. I think he was glad for an excuse not to go.
So Orville and I walked up the road to the Wickenses’ gate. I knew enough now not to hop it. Orville shouted, “Mr. Wickens! Hello?”
Timmy appeared, followed by Wendell and Dougie, who, at that moment, really did remind me of the Darryl and Darryl characters from that long-ago sitcom. The three of them walked, casually, taking their time, down the drive to the gate.
“Yeah?” said Timmy. Not nearly as friendly as at dinner the night before.
“We wonder if we could come in and talk for a moment,” Orville said. “Provided your dogs is someplace safe.”
“They’re in the barn,” said Wendell, grinning.
“You’re sure?” I said.
“If the boy says they’re in the barn, they’re in the barn,” Timmy Wickens said, unlatching the gate and opening it wide enough to admit me and Orville. We started walking slowly, walking and talking at the same time, toward the house.
“What’s this about?” Timmy asked.
“Your dogs got a bit out of control today,” Orville said.
“Wendell told me.” Wendell nodded at this. “Didn’t he say he was sorry?”
“Well, you see,” Orville said, feeling his way, “it’s not just a problem of an apology.”
“What then?” said Dougie.
Charlene, in a grease-stained football jersey, had come out onto the porch to see what the commotion was. I could make out May Wickens at the window.
“Those dogs are dangerous,” Orville said.
“Did they bite anyone?” Timmy Wickens asked.
“No, no they didn’t.”
“Well then. Every dog’s allowed its first bite, and they ain’t even done that yet.”
“They’re vicious animals, Mr. Wickens. If you can’t control them, the town will seize them.”
Timmy bristled. “Will they now? I’d like to see them try something like that.”
“It won’t be necessary so long as you keep them tied up,” Orville said.
May had stepped out onto the porch, walked over to the railing. Our eyes met.
“Hello, ladies,” Orville said. “Nice to see you.” Charlene glared at him. There was something in May’s expression that seemed to reach out. Orville looked directly at her. “How are you doing, Ms. Wickens?”
“I’m fine, thank you,” she said quietly.
“Everything’s okay with you, is it?”
Timmy face darkened, and he looked from Orville to his daughter and back again. “Yes,” May said. “Everything is fine.”
“That’s terrific, I’m glad to hear that. That’s wonderful.” Orville cleared his throat nervously. “Well, that’s good. Isn’t that good that everyone’s fine?”
“Is there anything else?” Timmy asked.
“Well, as a matter of fact,” Orville said. “I wonder if you’d mind if we just had a look around the place?”
Whoa. I couldn’t believe it. Maybe Orville actually had some balls. One, at least.
“What?” said Timmy. “You want to search my place? On what grounds? Do you have a warrant for that?”
“He doesn’t really need one,” I said. “Because this property belongs to-”
“Hey, look,” said Orville, “I just wanted to look around, that’s all. You don’t have anything to hide, do you, Timmy? Because-”
“Ha-ha!” said Wendell. “I got it!”
He’d come up around Orville from behind and grabbed the police chief’s gun right out of his holster. Orville must have failed to snap the safety cover back on after the dog incident, making it easy for Wendell to snatch. Wendell waved it playfully in the air, dancing as he did so.
“I got your gun! I got your gun!” He singsonged, like he was chanting a nursery rhyme.
“Hey!” Orville said. “You give that back!”
Dougie was laughing, and Timmy had a big smirk on his face, too. “Hey,” Wendell said, pointing the gun at his brother. “I’m gonna shoot ya!”
“No!” I said.
“Bang!” Wendell shouted, and Dougie dropped to the ground comically, engaging in a set of ridiculous spasms on the grass.
“You got me!” he cried.
“You give that back to me right now!” Orville said, running after Wendell, who’d begun skipping away. Dougie was back on his feet now, running behind Orville.
“Here!” Wendell shouted at Dougie. “Catch!”
Dear God no.
Surely they would have enough sense not to toss around a loaded gun. But they did. It sailed through the air, up and over Orville, who reached futilely into the air to catch it. The gun arced earthward, and Dougie caught it handily, running off in the other direction.
“Now, boys,” Timmy said, smiling. Charlene was laughing now, too. May was the only member of the Wickens family not to find this amusing. She looked on in horror. Jeffrey slipped outside and sidled up next to his mom.
“What are they playing?” the boy asked.
“Go inside right now,” she said. May must have known what could happen if a loaded gun landed on the ground. “Now!”
Orville was running back and forth between Wendell and Dougie as they tossed the gun between themselves. “Stop it!” he shouted. “Stop it!”
“Come on, fellas,” Timmy said. “You better give him back his gun.”
But the boys paid him no mind. It was Charlene who brought things to an end.
“Boys!” she bellowed. They both whirled around and looked at her. She smiled at them. “I think it’s time to stop.”
“Do we have to?” Wendell asked. He and Dougie looked so terribly disappointed.
“Your mom’s right,” said Timmy. “Time to call it quits. So long as Orville here agrees to one condition.”
Orville stared at Timmy.
“Chief Thorne, I’ll ask my boys to give you back your gun, but you’re going to have to promise to leave us alone.”
Orville said nothing. Timmy walked over to Dougie, the current possessor of the weapon, and took it gently from his hands.
“We were just having some fun,” Dougie said.
Then Timmy slowly walked over to Orville, and before handing him the gun, he leaned in close to the chief’s face and said, “Now, Orville, you just walk away, now. Okay?”
Orville stared into Timmy’s face.
