Negative Space XVIII

By Myra Love

April 23, 2002

 Chapter XVIII

Andy had remembered the psychology notes and handed them to me before escorting me out of the station. "I'll drive you home," he said. "But first we need to talk."
I nodded as he led me across the street to a small restaurant that used to be a dental office and still looked a little like one. He asked me if I wanted coffee and I did. My conversation with Donald had shaken me up and I wanted time before being debriefed.
As it turned out, Andy didn't really want to debrief me. "I can tell by your expression that you didn't have any luck getting him to cooperate," he said, once the coffee was on the table.
I shook my head. "He's scared. My sense is that he didn't know what he was getting into when he started selling. He's terrified of his suppliers." I picked up my cup. "You remember that kid who got badly burned last year/"
Andy nodded. "Yeah, I remember. The flash fire that wasn't one."
"Well, Donald said that was their handiwork."
Andy grunted. "I'm not surprised. In fact, I'd thought as much."
"So, he's not about to put himself in the same position as that kid."
He shrugged his shoulders. "Prison isn't nice," he replied. "Things like that happen on the inside all the time. And worse!"
I made eye contact with him and held it. "He doesn't want to come home," I said. That was hard, but I knew I had to say it.
"I know," Andy replied, briefly putting his hand over mine on the table. "I used to feel that way myself."
"I'm really worried about him, Officer Searle. About him and my parents. They all seem to be going downhill really fast."
He smiled at me. "Call me Andy, okay? And I'll call you Lisa. It's easier than Officer Searle and Miss Dunn."
I nodded and his expression got serious. "There's not much I can do for your brother unless he cooperates, Lisa. I'd like to, but my power is limited. I see a lot of myself in him."
"Donald's scared and doesn't believe the police can protect him," I replied, hoping that wouldn't offend him.
Andy sighed. "We can't. Not with one hundred percent certainty anyway. Life is full of risks."
I looked down at my hands. "Well, I can't tell him which risks to take, can I?"
"You could try, but there's no guarantee he'd listen. Prison is a lot worse than living with the possibility of reprisals from thugs. And we really would try to protect him."
"I'm not sure. I know what it's like to live in constant fear that something terrible might happen," I said, almost without thinking.
I looked up, wondering if Andy would ask me to explain, but he didn't. He just nodded. "I hear you, Lisa. I really do."
I smiled because I believed him, and being able to believe that someone understood felt wonderful. My smile turned to a chuckle. "If you really want to pressure Donald, turn Miss Carswell loose on him."
Andy cocked his head to the left, as if listening for a distant sound. "What? Explain, please."
"I think he's more scared of her than of the creeps he worked for."
Andy laughed. "Well, being afraid of Miss Carswell is something he shares with most people around here. I don't see it myself. I'm crazy about the woman. But then she saved me from a future of petty crime and jail."
Suddenly he looked serious. "I don't know," he mumbled. "Maybe it would work after all."
"What?" I demanded.
"If I tell the state's attorney's office that bringing Donald before our local mediator instead of before a judge, at least on one of the charges would get the results they want, maybe they'd agree. If she got information out of him that allowed them to shut down the traffickers, they might be amenable to a deal. He could maybe get away with time in a halfway house and community service. It would take some doing, especially convincing the prosecutor, but it's worth a try."
I looked at him hard. "Do you think it would work?"
He closed his eyes for a second and seemed to be thinking hard. "It's a long shot," he admitted, "but right now it's the only shot we've got."

Andy's notes were very useful, and I almost phoned him to tell him so and thank him, but I thought better of it. I didn't want to seem to be throwing myself at him.
My mother was home, and I heard her thumping around in the kitchen for a while before her voice made its way upstairs to where I was studying. "Lisa, I need your help. Get down here and make yourself useful!"
I sighed and closed up the loose-leaf binder that contained Andy's outline and notes. When I stood up, I noticed that my neck and shoulders had gotten stiff so I stretched as I went down the stairs.
My mother was in the living room, standing in front of the one large window. She was staring through it in an unnerving way, staring and staring but obviously not seeing anything.
I cleared my throat. "What can I help you with, mom?" I asked.
She twitched as if I'd startled her. Then she turned to face me. Her pupils were dilated.
"Mom, are you okay?" I asked, a little alarmed.
She smiled and nodded. "I was just thinking about what might have been," she said in a very gentle voice, unlike the one she'd taken to using lately which was scratchy and shrill.
"What do you mean?" I asked, sitting down.
"Things didn't turn out the way I thought," she said and sat down across from me. Her eyes were still strange, and I wondered if she had taken something. She sighed. "When I went to see Donald yesterday, there was an older policeman manning the front desk. He greeted me by name and seemed very happy to see me. It took me a few minutes to recognize him." She shook her head. "It was Samuel Eliot. I thought he'd retired a long time ago, but there he was. He told me he was only working part-time and invited me to go out for coffee."
She smiled, but her expression remained vague and a little out of focus. "I used to date Sam's brother when I was in high school. Jack was the school charmer, a real wheeler-dealer. Everyone said he'd make it big someday, and he did. He owns a trucking company now. Sam always liked me," she continued, her smile turning flirtatious. "In fact, his wife was really relieved when Jack and I broke up. She didn't want a constant temptation in the family."
I didn't know if I really wanted to hear all this, but my mother seemed to have forgotten I was around. "Well, since it was too early for me to visit Donald, Sam and I went out for an Irish coffee and to catch up on each other's lives. The longer I sat and talked with him, the more I found myself wondering what would have happened if I'd married Jack."
Her face got sad. "Back in those days it seemed safer to marry someone with a secure future, someone like your dad who was in line to inherit the family farm." She laughed harshly, "Who'd ever have thought that would change? But it did. If I'd married Jack, I'd be wealthy and comfortable instead of…" She shook her head. "But what's the use of living in the past?" She suddenly stared at me sharply. "Of course, there's not way my parents could have known that pushing me to marry your father wasn't the right thing, so don't you go thinking you know better than I do when I tell you to grab that young Michael before he changes his mind."
I shook my head. There was no point in arguing with her, so I didn't. "You said you wanted help with something? What can I do?" I asked calmly.
She looked perplexed for a moment. "Help? What did I want?" She seemed bewildered and slightly out of synch with herself. "The casserole is already in the oven. I guess you could make a salad. Your dad will be hungry when he comes inside."
I got up and started to wash lettuce and tear the leaves up. My mother hummed to herself and watched me.
"Donald wouldn't talk to me, you know," she said suddenly. "His own mother. And he accused me of being drunk!"
"Well, you had drunk an Irish coffee," I responded.
"Hmmph! Who can get drunk on one Irish coffee?" she demanded. "Besides, what business is it of his or yours what I do?"
I shook my head. "None, I guess, even if you are our mother."
She nodded. "Exactly. I'm my own person. Nobody owns me. Not my kids or my husband. Or this goddamned farm." She shook her head morosely. "But just think I could have been living in the lap of luxury. Sam said Jack would have married me in a minute."
I was relieved when my father came in and went to the kitchen sink to wash his hands. I mixed up some dressing for the salad and noticed that he was watching my mother with a skeptical expression on his face.
"Are you all right, Ruth?" he asked sharply.
She didn't make eye contact with him. She just nodded.
He came over and sat down at the table. "Donald is being damned stubborn," he announced. "He still won't talk to that lawyer they got him. The fellow called me this afternoon and said that without Donald's cooperation, he can't do a thing for him."
He made a disgusted face. "And besides that, I got a phone call from a lawyer for some family that claims to own the car Donald was caught driving. They're suing us since Donald is a minor."
My mother looked appalled. "Suing us? What for? There was nothing wrong with the car when Donald got stopped. He hadn't crashed or wrecked it."
My father grunted. "Seems they can prove the car only had twenty-nine thousand miles on the speedometer when it was stolen. It has almost forty thousand now. So they want to be reimbursed for the extra mileage and wear and tear on the car."
"But Donald didn't have it long enough to run up that much mileage," I protested.
My father just shrugged. "Maybe so, but that's not going to stop them from suing. Unless we can buy them off, we'll have to hire a lawyer and go to court. We just can't afford it. Damn that kid! He'll be the ruin of us yet!"
"Wait a minute," I said slowly. "Do you know where that family lives?"
My dad looked up from his food and shrugged. "Beats me! What difference does that make?"
"If they're local, maybe they'd be willing to bring their case before Miss Carswell instead of a judge."
He looked at me blankly with a leaf of lettuce sticking out of the corner of his mouth. "The lawyer didn't say anything about a mediator." He chuckled. "But then why would he? He'll make more off a lawsuit."
"If they win," I added.
He shrugged again. "We can't afford to mount a defense, Lisa," he explained as if I were a very slow child.
I shook my head. "Maybe they can be persuaded to come before Miss Carswell," I said. "Maybe you could persuade them."
My father looked bewildered. "Whatever for?"
That was when I explained Andy's plan to my parents. My mom was very dubious, but my dad grinned at me and shook his head. "Malcolm Searle's boy is still a sharp one, even if he is a cop." And I knew I had dad on our side.