AS I DROVE DAD to the lawyer’s the next morning in his pickup, he said, “I feel a bit bad, talking to Bert Trench about evicting the Wickenses, when they had us to dinner last night and all. I mean, it’s not much of a way to show one’s gratitude.”
I glanced away from the road long enough to look at him. “Are you kidding me? Were you at the same dinner I was at?”
“It just doesn’t seem very grateful, that’s all.”
“Dad, we’ve been over this. You think they had us for dinner because they like us? They were putting on a show. It was like opening night on Broadway. How many times did someone remind us that Dewart was killed by a bear? The whole fucking family was in on it—well, May didn’t really have that much to say. But even the kid mentioned how Dewart had been killed by a bear. It’s like they were trying to implant memories. By the time the evening was over I was convinced I’d seen Morton Dewart head out to kill that bear. And why do you figure they wanted to do that?”
Dad gazed out the window.
“Dad?”
“Well, it could still be because he was. And they need to talk about it. Wouldn’t you feel the need to talk about it? I mean, from the very beginning, ever since those damn dogs chased you back over the fence, you’ve been just bound and determined that those dogs killed that man, that they’ve been covering it up. It’s like you think Wickens meant to kill that man with those dogs, that it was deliberate, and you’re basing that on what? Betty’s glance at a corpse, and some feelings you’ve got, and a missing rifle.”
“Oh, and while we’re on the subject, what the hell were you thinking?”
“What?”
“Last night? Bringing up that thing about the rifle? Were you out of your mind?”
“What are you talking about? You’ve been going on like it’s a big deal, so I thought I’d mention it, see what they thought.”
I took a deep breath. “Dad, if there’s no rifle, that’s because Morton wasn’t out hunting for a bear, and if he wasn’t out hunting for a bear, that means everything Timmy Wickens and his family of nutcases is telling us is a lie, which is exactly why we don’t bring up the thing about the rifle, because it tips them off.”
“Oh,” Dad said. He tapped his fist lightly on the dashboard. “Well, okay, let’s say we go on your theory. Why the hell would Wickens want his own daughter’s boyfriend ripped apart by those dogs?”
I thought of my daughter Angie, now in her second year at Mackenzie, majoring in psychology. I could imagine releasing the hounds on some of her boyfriends.
“I don’t have an answer for that,” I said. “Maybe that’s something we should start looking into.”
“We?” Dad said, glancing over at me. “That’s something that we should look into? We should start looking into why the Wickenses would have wanted to kill that man? You know, that’s why they have police forces, Zachary. They look into that sort of thing.”
“Okay, let’s turn on the Bat signal and Orville’ll get right on it,” I said.
Dad clenched his fist tighter. “Stop picking on him,” he said.
“What do you care? What’s he to you that you defend him? Is this because he’s Lana’s nephew? You don’t want to point out what a doofus he is because it’ll hurt your chances of getting between the sheets with her?” Dad’s eyes widened. The angrier he looked, the more I felt egged on. “And you never did tell me whether you two are taking precautions. The last thing I want is a little baby brother.”
“Shut up! For God’s sake, just shut the hell up! Pull over! Pull over! I’m getting out!”
“Dad! You’re not getting out! You’re on crutches, for Christ’s sake!”
“I don’t care. Stop the car!”
I wanted to point out that, technically speaking, we were not in a car, we were in a truck, but did not. “I’m not stopping,” I said. “Look, I’m sorry. I won’t make fun of Orville anymore.” Dad eyed me warily, perhaps to see whether I looked sincere. I was not sure just how convincing I looked. The truth is, I was trying very hard not to laugh, not unlike when Sarah stubs her toe, and I try to look concerned, but she sees something in my eye and says, “You think this is funny, don’t you?” At which point, I pretend to have a coughing fit.
I said, “I’ll behave myself. I’m not saying it’ll be easy, but I’ll do my best. I’ll treat the uniform with respect, even if I have some reservations about the guy inside it.”