'What are you staring at?' he said.
'Give him up.'
'You must have some kind of brain tumor or something. Nothing I say seems to get in your head. You guys ain't gonna do this stuff to me. You tell these local bozos I'm walking out of this beef. I'm not doing time, I'm not getting whacked in custody, either. I ain't getting whacked. Can you handle that, Jack?'
'The local bozos aren't taking a lot of interest in your point of view, Joey. Every once in a while a token guy gets dropped in the skillet, and this time it looks like you're it. It might not be fair, but that's the way it works. You never saw a mob run across town to do a good deed, did you?'
He tried to turn away from me, but his wrist clanked the handcuff chain against the bed rail. He hit the mattress with his other fist, then clenched his arm over his eyes.
'I want you to leave me alone,' he said.
I got up from the chair and walked to the door. His chained right foot stuck out from under the sheet. He tried to clear his throat and instead choked on his saliva.
'I'll see about the canned goods and the hot plate,' I said.
He worked the sheet up to his chin, kept his arm pressed tightly across his eyes, and didn't reply.
I arrived in the park before Bootsie and Alafair and walked idly along the bayou's edge under the trees. Desiccated gray leaves were scattered along the mud-bank. I squatted down and flipped pebbles at several thin, needle-nosed garfish that were turning in the current.
I was troubled, uncomfortable, but I couldn't wrap my hand around the central concern in my mind.
Joey Gouza was in custody, where he belonged. Why did I worry?
Policemen often have many personal problems. TV films go to great lengths to depict cops' struggles with alcoholism, bad marriages, mistreatment at the hands of liberals, racial minorities, and bumbling administrators.
But my experience has been that the real enemy is the temptation to misuse power. The weaponry we possess is awesome-leaded batons, slapjacks, Mace, stun guns, M-16s, scoped sniper rifles, 12-gauge assault shotguns, high-powered pistols and steel-jacketed ammunition that can blow the cylinders out of an automobile's engine block.
But the real rush is in the discretionary power we sometimes exercise over individuals. I'm talking about the kind of people no one likes-the lowlifes, the aberrant, the obscene and ugly-about whom no one will complain if you leave them in lockdown the rest of their lives with a goodhumored wink at the Constitution, or if you're really in earnest, you create a situation where you simply saw loose their fastenings and throw down a toy gun for someone to find when the smoke clears.
It happens, with some regularity.
I saw Bootsie and Alafair setting out picnic food on a table by the baseball diamond and I walked over to join them.
Alafair streaked past me, her face already flushed with expectation.
'Hey, where you going, little guy?' I said.
'To play kickball.'
'Don't blind anyone.'
'What?'
'Never mind.'
Then she turned and plunged into the midst of the game, knocking another child to the ground. I sat down in the shade with Bootsie and ate a piece of fried chicken and two or three bites of dirty rice before my attention wandered.
'Did something happen this morning?' Bootsie asked.
'No, not really. Joey Gouza's probably having his day in the Garden of Gethsemane, but I guess that's the breaks.'
'Do you feel bad about him for some reason?'
'I don't know what I feel. I suppose he deserves anything that happens to him.'
'Then what is it?'
'I think he's in jail for the wrong reasons. I think Drew Sonnier is lying. I also think nobody cares whether Drew is lying or not.'
'That doesn't make sense, Dave. If he didn't do it to her, who did?'
Out on the field the kids had torn loose a base pad from its fastening in the sand, where it served as the home base for one side. Alafair had the volleyball under one arm and was trying to replace the wooden peg in the sand without anyone else taking the ball from her.
'I don't know who did it,' I said. 'Maybe Gouza ordered it done as a warning to Weldon, then Drew lied to put him at the scene. But a guy like Gouza doesn't go out on a job himself.'
'It's the city's case. It's not your responsibility.'
'I twisted him. I made Bobby Earl think Gouza was going to drop the dime on him, then I told Gouza about it. The guy's experiencing some real psychological pain. He thinks a hit's out on him.'
'Is there?'
'Maybe. And if there is, I might be responsible.'
'Dave, a man like that is a human garbage truck. Whatever happens to him is the result of choices he made years ago…. Are you listening?'
'Sure,' I said. But I was watching Alafair. She couldn't hold the wooden peg with one hand and tamp it down in the sand without releasing the volleyball with the other, so she balanced the peg against her folded knee, then knocked it down with the heel of her free hand.
'What is it?' Bootsie said.
'Nothing,' I said. 'You're right about Joey Gouza. It would be impossible to be more than a footnote in that guy's life.'
'Do you want another piece of chicken?'
'No, I'd better get back to the office.'
'Let the city people handle it.'
'Yeah, why not?' I said. 'That's the best idea.'
She squinted one eye at me, and I averted my gaze.
Ten minutes after I was back at the office, my phone rang.
'Dave?' His voice was cautious, almost deferential, as though he were afraid I'd hang up.
'Yeah, what is it, Weldon?'
He waited a moment to reply. In the background I could hear 'La Jolie Blonde' on a jukebox and the rattle of pool balls.
'You want to have a bowl of gumbo down at Tee Neg's?' he asked.
'I've already eaten, thanks.'
'You shoot pool?'
'Once in a while. What's up?'
'Come down and shoot some nine-ball with me.'
'I'm a little busy right now.'
'I'm sorry,' he said.
'About what?'
'For taking a punch at you. I'm sorry I did it. I wanted to tell you that.'
'Okay.'
'That's all 'okay'?'
'I pushed you into a hard corner, Weldon.'
'You're not still heated up about it?'
'No, I don't think so.'
'Because I wouldn't want you mad at me.'
'I'm not mad at you.'
'So come down and shoot some nine-ball.'
'No more games, podna. What's on your mind?'
