The Big Thaw - Donald Harstad [24]
“I’m sorry, Lamar,” said Cletus, still too loud, and not quite sincerely. “It was out of line. I didn’t mean that.”
Well, there it was, though. He’d thought it, and he’d said it, and that was that. Lamar looked at me and said, “You deal with him. I’m gonna step outside for a minute.”
Thanks, boss. Thanks a lot.
“Why don’t you have a seat at the kitchen table, Cletus,” I said. “You quiet down, and I’ll tell you some of what’s going on.”
He turned and looked at me, his face a bit redder than it had been when he first arrived. He said nothing, just walked over to the table, and sat. Then, “What’s this country coming to when a man’s ordered around in his own house?” He said it almost softly, like he was talking to himself. Almost, but not really. The softness made it deniable, though, if he were to be called on it.
“Just get a handle on it, Cletus,” I said. “Things happen for a reason.”
“It’s my house. What’d you do if I just said to get off my property? Huh? It’s MY property.”
“Well, Cletus,” I said, sitting across the table from him, “first I’d tell you that we have the right to investigate the crime without interference.” I kept my voice soft and low, forcing him to listen.
“Bullshit.” This was a little louder again. “What were you doing here in the first place?”
“And,” I said, “if you persisted, I’d charge you with Interference with Official Acts.”
“On my own property?” His voice was rising. “That’s pure bullshit!”
Time to change tactics. “Look, Cletus,” I said. “Suppose you invited some guys over for a poker game, you lost, got pissed off, and shot all of ’em. You actually think that the courts would allow you to say, ‘It’s my property, you can’t come here’? I don’t think so.”
He didn’t answer.
“So, if you want to calm down, I’ll tell you as much as I can about what’s going on.”
Cletus looked me right in the eye. “Okay. Let’s hear it.” Very calm. Very matter-of-fact. It crossed my mind that Cletus had been raising hell for effect. Why? I had no idea. Sometimes people were just like that. Bluster, then calm.
Just as I was starting, Lamar came back in, fixed Cletus with a cold stare, and then moved over to the lab people. He didn’t say anything, but Cletus was a little cowed for a few seconds.
I told Cletus Borglan just about everything I knew, with some important exceptions. I left out all reference to Fred. I just said we’d been informed that there’d been a burglary. I didn’t describe how the victims had been shot. While I was telling him the details, he got up, went to the sink, and began making a pot of coffee. Being cool. He stood with his hips resting against the kitchen counter as he listened. When the coffee was done, he poured himself a cup, opened the refrigerator to get some milk, sat down, and took a long sip. He just looked at me, and smiled.
“My hired man is up here all the time. How come he didn’t find no burglary? Care to explain that?”
“Don’t know him, Cletus. Maybe that’s something you should ask him about.” I was unhappy about not being offered coffee. “You got an alarm system or anything?”
“Didn’t think I’d need one. What with all you on the county payroll.”
Because of Cletus and his attitude, the agent in charge of the lab crew decided that they better stay at the house until everything was done, rather than try to get past Cletus in the morning. The rest of us stayed right along with them.
That was all right. I was there when the bodies were removed, and saw a complete nonreaction from Cletus Borglan. In the dark, with the stark lights, the black hearses, the frost and snow, and all the officers and agents present, it was quite a scene. As I said to Lamar, it was too bad we didn’t get a picture. It would have looked great on the Office Christmas Card next year.
I ended up back in the office, sitting alone at my desk about 0445, typing my preliminary report. It helps to do that. Organizes your thoughts. Sure. Well, in this case, there was damned little to organize.