Furnace. Muriel Gray
with a large flag propped in the corner behind her, and she was smiling up at Josh with even white teeth. She looked good in the picture, younger than Josh had initially guessed, and her make-up was more gentle and sophisticated. But it was her. The murderer. No doubt.
Below the picture a large caption read, ‘Vote for Councillor McFarlane. You talk. She listens.’
Underneath in smaller print the handbill informed Josh that Councillor Nelly McFarlane would be holding a question and answer session at Furnace junior school on May nineteenth.
When Josh looked back up at the sheriff’s face, John Pace was registering a peculiar mixture of triumph and sympathy. But if the man was feeling smug, he concealed it well.
‘This her?’
Josh nodded once, almost imperceptibly. Pace did the same.
‘Like I say, shock’s a crazy thing.’
‘Where was this?’
‘All over town.’
‘You think I saw it somewhere.’
‘I know you did. Hard to miss.’
One of the deputies sniggered and Pace threw him a look.
Josh slumped forward, the core of determined revenge dissolving in him, leaving his body slack and empty with misery. He let his hot head touch the back of his hand. This time, Pace allowed himself to put a hand on Josh’s arm and found that it was not resisted.
‘But I saw her.’
Josh’s words were muffled, spoken into his own skin. Pace replied to the top of his head. ‘You just had the worst day of your life, Josh. But you have to realize it weren’t your fault. The mind makes up all kind of mixed-up shit to help us deal with guilt and grief. Once ran over a neighbour’s dog. Couldn’t sleep for weeks. God alone knows what it must be like to have killed a child. You ain’t goin’ mad, Josh. It happens.’
Josh raised his head and squinted at the man whose big hand was still resting on his arm. ‘You’re wrong. I know I saw her.’
Pace shook his head, and tightened his grip. ‘Then the mother of that poor little baby girl? She gone mad?’
Josh lowered his eyes, aware of how he must seem to these solid, unimaginative men. ‘Maybe.’
Pace withdrew his hand, rubbed his chin roughly and thought for a moment.
He stood up.
‘I’m goin’ to do somethin’ outside police procedure here, Josh. But I reckon it’s goin’ to help things along. You want some air?’
Josh unconsciously rubbed at his arm where Pace’s hand had been.
‘I guess.’
Pace nodded, and opened the door for him. They left the room, re-entered the small, neat office that smelled of new carpet, and walked outside towards the car. The sheriff waved a dismissive hand above his head to the calls from his staff as he left the building.
‘Shit, they’ll live without me for ten minutes,’ he said to no one in particular.
Thank God it was over. They’d made the delivery and everything was in order. Bernard Epstein didn’t like his job any more than his companion did, but as he got back into the car, Harry gave him a long look.
He returned the stare and shifted the driver’s seat back so that he could unzip his overalls.
‘She say anythin’?’
Harry’s tone was accusing.
‘Like what?’
‘I dunno. Like what we do next, I reckon.’
Bernard wriggled out of the top half of his suit and lifted his buttocks to slip the legs off.
‘You know what we do next. Nothin’. That’s what we do.’
Harry looked forward out of the windshield to the gracious sweep of the street. ‘You done it before, ain’t you?’
‘Yeah. The once.’
‘So that’s all I’m askin’. Like what next?’
‘It’s different each time. Has to be.’
Harry looked at his hands. ‘Delivery’s the same.’
Bernard pulled the last of the overall from his foot and turned to look at his companion with a sigh. ‘She doin’ well, huh?’
Harry blinked at him.
‘Huh?’
‘That daughter of yours. The one you got in that fancy twenty-thousand-dollar-a-term college up in New Hampshire.’
‘Yeah. She’s doin’ fine.’
Bernard waited a beat, his eyes never leaving Harry’s, then nodded. ‘Mighty glad to hear that. Can we get back to the sawmill now? Them backs ain’t gonna stack themselves.’
While Harry looked at the floor and cleared his throat, Bernard crumpled up the overall and threw it in the back seat beside the other one. The blood would come off in the wash. It had stained the green cross and half the word ‘paramedic’, but it would be fine with some rub-on detergent before the rinse cycle.
And anyway, they wouldn’t need them again for a long time. They were woodsmen. They had their own work-wear.
Pace helped Josh into the passenger seat as though he were an elderly female relative visiting for Thanksgiving, then climbed breathily into the driver’s seat and drove off slowly at policeman’s speed. Josh looked across at him, waiting for an explanation. Pace kept his eyes forward.
‘How were you feeling before the accident? Just when you thought you saw the woman.’
Josh’s temples throbbed. He put a hand to his head. How had he been feeling? He had been feeling guilty, sad, screwed up and crazy without sleep. That’s how. So crazy he even thought he might have invented the woman to chastise himself for driving away from his problems. Remember, Josh? Remember? Oh, he remembered all right, and he wrestled with the truth of it before answering.
‘I felt fine. Hungry. That’s all. I needed something to eat.’
What else could he have told this man? That he had fallen asleep at the traffic lights, then woken thinking about how his girlfriend was going to kill his baby? Just seconds before he killed someone else’s?
Pace nodded as though that was what he wanted to hear, and steered the car carefully into a wide tree-lined avenue. Josh looked away in shame and turned his attention to their destination. If Furnace’s suburbs had been impressive then this was even more so. They had arrived in the land of the seriously rich. The houses here were set far back from the road, and the maturity of the gardens, ringed with ancient oaks and high rhododendrons, told the story that they’d been here a long time. The same uncomfortable alienation that had introduced him to this town was returning. He turned back to Pace.
‘What’s the deal with this town? Where’s the money coming from?’
Pace raised an eyebrow as if the question was not only irrelevant but also impertinent. He shrugged. ‘Same as anywhere. Rich folks here got old money, poorer folks do what poor folks do. Work.’
Josh shook his head, undeterred by this oblique answer. ‘No, I mean what’s the bottom line? Farming? Mining? What?’
Pace looked like he was thinking hard. ‘Well, I guess that’s a good question. I reckon mostly it’s land and timber, but we got a few people here deal mostly in money, know what I mean? Like they don’t make nothing, they just sit on the phone or the fax and move money around the world. Seems to make more.’