Rough Justice

by Brad Smith

  Perry was keeping himself busy while the conversation went on. When his back was turned Carl gestured to Frances, rubbing his two fingers against his thumb.

  ‘What’s his asking price?’ she asked.

  ‘He says he wants five thousand dollars,’ Carl said. ‘Can HALT swing that?’

  ‘That’s a good question,’ Frances said. ‘I doubt it. Not on short notice. If we had some time …’

  ‘You have time. I just don’t know how much.’

  ‘We can call a meeting tonight. Is the stuff worth it?’

  ‘I say yes,’ Carl said.

  Frances regarded Carl for a moment, then turned to Perry. ‘What do you think, Perry?’

  Perry had a socket wrench in his hand, loosening bolts from the frames. He looked at Frances. ‘I don’t know nothing about this stuff.’ He pointed the ratchet at Carl. ‘Ask him. He’s the one supposed to be so smart. Maybe he ain’t so smart after all, by the looks of that nose.’

  Perry returned to his work. Carl looked at his back for a moment. ‘Well, if I stick around here, I’m just gonna get my feelings hurt,’ he said. ‘I delivered my message.’

  Frances followed him outside to his pickup.

  ‘I got a question,’ she said. ‘What if Hofferman knows that we got nowhere with Cumberland’s information?’

  ‘Either way, he doesn’t want this in the news,’ Carl said. ‘It’s about drinking water. As long as that threat is out there, he’s going to want the evidence off the market.’

  ‘That’s pretty optimistic.’

  ‘It’s my nature.’

  ‘The hell it is,’ she said. ‘Where you going now?’

  ‘I have to check back with Rufus. I might have a security system to install.’

  ‘You going to tell me where this is going?’

  ‘Eventually.’

  ‘How about right now?’

  He smiled. ‘You don’t need to know everything right now. Some of what I’m doing is not exactly ethical.’

  ‘That makes me feel a lot better.’

  He leaned in suddenly and kissed her softly on the mouth, then turned and got into the truck. The window was down.

  ‘I’ve been thinking about that for a while now,’ he said, and drove away.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Bud wheeled the Escalade in and out of the crawling traffic on the thruway as best as he could. It was raining hard and the road was full of dawdlers. One minute Bud was doing eighty-five miles an hour and the next he was down to thirty. As he drove, he muttered constantly to himself. Two drops of rain and people start driving like they’re in a mine field. Hit the gas or stay the fuck at home.

  Hofferman was sitting in his Hummer in the rear corner of the parking lot at Brannigan’s. The lot was flooded from the downpour, the potholes overflowing. When Bud pulled up, Hofferman got out and climbed in the Cadillac’s passenger side.

  ‘I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.’

  ‘Fucking traffic,’ Bud said. ‘I swear, people drive like that just to piss me off. OK, what are we going to do with this dickhead?’

  ‘We’re going to enter into a business transaction with him,’ Hofferman said.

  ‘What the fuck does that mean?’

  ‘All on the up and up,’ Hofferman said. ‘That’s the way to play it. He has some documents that are pertinent to the landfill proposal. Information that we need to ensure that things are done safely and in the best interests of the public.’

  ‘In other words, we’re going to buy him off.’ Bud was intrigued that Hofferman had suddenly dropped his shit-kicker persona and was now talking like a Philadelphia lawyer.

  ‘You can phrase it any way you want.’ Hofferman pulled a thick envelope from his pocket and offered it over. ‘But I think you should tell him that it’s all for the public good. Make the old guy feel like he’s contributing to something important.’

  Bud pushed the envelope away. ‘What do you mean – I should tell him?’ he asked. ‘I’m not going anywhere near the guy.’

  ‘Yes, you are,’ Hofferman said. ‘I met with him last week and it didn’t go well. He’s been led to believe that I’m some sort of greedy opportunist. The guy doesn’t like me, Bud. But you can present yourself as a civil servant. With the interests of the people at heart.’

  Bud was clearly not happy with the development. ‘Why do we even need this shit?’

  ‘Maybe we don’t.’ Hofferman shrugged. ‘But we know that the other side is willing to pay for it. What’s that tell you?’

  ‘That they’re stupid?’

  ‘I don’t think we can assume that,’ Hofferman said. ‘This is what you call containment.’

  ‘Christ,’ Bud said. ‘I don’t want to fucking do this. Don’t you have somebody you can send?’

  ‘Gotta be you, Bud.’

  ‘Shit.’

  ‘You’ll be in and out in five minutes.’

  Bud stared out the windshield. The rain had picked up now, along with the wind. The tattered banners outside the restaurant were whipping crazily in the storm. ‘What do I say to this guy?’ Bud asked. ‘What’s his name again?’

  ‘Cumberland. Tell him you want everything he’s got. Make sure he understands that. Everything.’

  Bud finally took the envelope from Hofferman. He stared at it in his hands for a moment, as if it might tell him something. ‘Jesus Christ. I don’t even know what we’re buying here. How am I going to know if he’s being straight with me?’

  ‘This old geezer’s too nervous to try anything,’ Hofferman said. ‘You telling me you can’t handle this, Bud?’

  Bud sighed. ‘I can handle it. If he wants to deal, that is.’

  ‘He wants to deal.’

  ‘But does he want to deal with us?’

  ‘Look, he’s about to get five grand for a bunch of stuff that a week ago wasn’t worth five cents. Why would he give a shit where the money comes from?’

  ‘I guess we’ll find out,’ Bud said. Looking around, he sighed. ‘These fucking people. I’m getting sick of them all. And I’m getting sick of coming out here too. I don’t even like leaving the city, you want to know the truth.’

  ‘Thought you went to Portugal,’ Hofferman said. ‘That’s way out of the city. How was it anyway?’

  ‘A fucking nightmare,’ Bud said. ‘The only one there who spoke English was my fucking wife. If I wanted to talk to my wife, I’d have stayed home.’

  ‘You need to learn to relax, Bud.’

  ‘So I keep hearing. You know what bothers me even more?’ Bud asked. ‘Hearing that Carl Burns is still mucking around in this. I’ve seen slow learners before but this guy takes the cake.’

  ‘I might have to hurt the man.’

  ‘I was under the impression you did hurt him,’ Bud said.

  ‘Thought I did too,’ Hank said. He laughed. ‘I must be getting old, Bud. We beat that guy like a rented mule and three days later he’s got his nose in where it doesn’t belong. Again.’

  Bud shook his head. ‘Back in ancient times the Romans, or somebody, would cut a man’s nose off for sticking it where he shouldn’t.’

  ‘The Romans did that?’

  ‘Somebody like that,’ Bud said. ‘Might have been the Vikings.’

  Lee Cumberland was alone in the little bungalow when Bud arrived. The old man seemed surprised that he was there, but after Bud introduced himself and dropped Hofferman’s name, he invited him in. He said that his wife was out getting groceries. He was quite insistent that they sit at his kitchen table. He was acting on the nervous side but then Bud had never met the guy before. Maybe that was the way he was.

  ‘What’s this about?’ Cumberland asked when they were seated.

  ‘I think you know what it’s about,’ Bud told him.

  ‘I can’t say that I do.’

  Bud leaned forward over the table. ‘Listen, Methuselah, I don’t have time to play ring around the rosie with you. You might be a little slow on the uptake but this transaction coul
dn’t be simpler. I’m going to give you five thousand dollars in cash and you’re going to give me those logs and maps and whatever else you got pertaining to that landfill site. Surely you can grasp that.’

  Cumberland fell silent for a moment, chewing his bottom lip. ‘What do you want with it anyway?’

  ‘What do I want with it?’ Bud repeated, leaning back in his chair. ‘Do I really have to spell it out? I want it so other people can’t use it to oppose the landfill. You realize that the landfill is a good thing, right?’

  ‘I’ve heard both sides of that argument.’

  ‘Well, you best listen to my side. Because I’ll give you the straight dope. The landfill represents progress. What would you do with tons of trash – throw it out in the street? Those fuckwads who are against it don’t know what they’re talking about.’

  ‘I won’t have that language in my house.’

  ‘Sorry,’ Bud said. Even he realized how insincere he sounded so he showed him his palms and apologized for the apology. ‘I really am sorry.’

  ‘And you claim to be a city councilor. With a mouth like that.’

  ‘Well, I’m not here as a city councilor,’ Bud told him. ‘This matter is between you and me. Now, are we going to do business or not?’

  Cumberland paused again. He seemed genuinely conflicted. ‘I suppose,’ he said.

  ‘You suppose?’

  ‘Fact is, I could use the money. Did you bring a check?’

  ‘Cash,’ Bud said. ‘We deal in cash. And another thing, you don’t ever mention this to anybody. I was never here, you never met me. You got that?’

  ‘I guess so.’

  ‘You’d better do more than guess so.’

  Cumberland nodded. ‘OK.’

  ‘You never met me.’

  ‘I never met you.’

  ‘Now where is this stuff?’

  While Cumberland went into another room, Bud took the money from his coat pocket and counted it out on the table. It was in hundreds and he made five piles of ten each, stacking them neatly. Cumberland returned with a thick manila envelope. Bud opened it and had a quick look inside; he wasn’t going to go through it all because he wouldn’t know what he was looking at anyway. He got up to leave.

  ‘Now listen, old-timer,’ he said, standing in the doorway. ‘Come next week, you’re not going to suddenly remember some other shit you got stashed away and come looking for more money? Because that’s not the way this works.’

  ‘You have no worry there,’ Cumberland said. He had followed Bud to the door. ‘Far as I’m concerned, we have a gentleman’s agreement.’

  ‘Well, that’s good,’ Bud said.

  ‘Even if we might be one gentleman short,’ Cumberland said.

  Bud stopped and glanced back at the old man for a moment. Cumberland was no longer looking at him. Bud let the comment pass and left.

  Frances and Rufus waited until Bud Stephens drove off before coming out from Lee Cumberland’s spare bedroom. Cumberland was in the kitchen, spooning coffee into an old-style percolator. He smiled at them, looking like a mischievous boy when he did.

  Rufus retrieved the camera from inside the cupboard where Carl had concealed it and connected it to his laptop and the three of them watched the video replay. The tape looked good. The sound was excellent. Modern technology at work.

  ‘A hand nicely played, Mr Cumberland,’ Rufus told him.

  ‘I never done nothing like that before,’ Cumberland said. ‘I was shaking the whole time.’

  Frances put her hand on his shoulder. ‘Nice parting shot, by the way.’

  ‘So now you write this up in the newspaper?’ Cumberland asked.

  ‘But not just my little weekly,’ Rufus said. ‘I’ll have copies of this tape all across Rose City by the end of the day. Bud Stephens has always loved media attention. He’s about to get his wish.’

  ‘Will it stop the landfill, though?’ Cumberland asked.

  ‘It should stop Bud Stephens, and the landfill is his baby,’ Rufus said. ‘This thing gets rank enough and everybody’s going to want to get away from the smell.’

  Carl was connecting the electrical panel in the warehouse and waiting to hear from Frances. She’d been adamant about him staying away from Cumberland’s place and he knew that she had been right. After the incident behind Archer’s he didn’t need to be near Hofferman right now. He could barely bend over to tie his work boots.

  Late morning he went into the front warehouse for coffee but the urn there was empty. He walked up to the house. It was a warm day for the month, and the sky was clearing after the rain earlier. The maple trees in the yard had been the last to lose their leaves, and they were thick on the grass underfoot as he walked. He crossed the patio and went into the kitchen and made a pot of coffee. After pouring himself a cup, he went back outside.

  And came face to face with Kate.

  ‘Hey,’ he said.

  ‘Hi, Carl.’ She hesitated, glancing past him toward the house. ‘Frances not around?’

  ‘She’s in town. Be back soon. I hope.’

  ‘You hope?’

  ‘She’ll be back soon,’ Carl said. ‘You want some coffee? I just made some.’

  ‘Um … yeah.’

  ‘You want to come in?’

  ‘Let’s sit out here,’ she said. ‘It’s nice.’

  He went inside. Seeing her had thrown him for a loop. She didn’t look particularly good. She seemed worn down, weary in a way that had little to do with being tired. Carl knew the feeling.

  But she was there.

  Not knowing how she took her coffee, he carried the cup, sugar bowl and cream outside and put everything on the wooden table. She splashed a little cream in the cup and they both sat down.

  ‘It’s good to see you,’ Carl said.

  ‘You too, Carl.’ Saying it, though, she wasn’t looking at him, her eyes darting restlessly, over the farm, down to the river. Finally she turned to him. ‘Did you ever think you’d end up working for Frances?’

  ‘That’s one thing I didn’t see coming.’

  ‘Do you usually see things coming?’

  ‘You got me there,’ he said. ‘I guess I’ve never really seen anything coming. Take today, for instance.’

  Kate smiled at that as she sipped at the coffee. ‘Well, I promised Frances I would come by.’

  ‘How’s the knee?’

  ‘Coming along. I’m using a cane now. I left it in the car.’

  ‘You’re not back to work yet?’

  ‘No.’ She put the cup down, and this time she really did look at him. ‘Do you remember taking me fishing? Off the pier?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘We caught all those fish and we went back to your place. You lived in that little yellow house by the textile mill. It smelled funny there.’

  ‘It did?’

  ‘Not the house, the air. Maybe the smell was from the mill,’ she said. ‘You cleaned the fish and I watched. I didn’t want to touch the guts and stuff. Then we cooked them outside, with fried potatoes.’

  ‘We went downtown for ice cream afterwards.’

  She smiled brightly and Carl’s heart nearly broke in half. ‘Yes. I forgot about the ice cream.’

  ‘How old were you?’

  ‘I was thinking about that,’ she said. ‘Maybe eight or nine? That was a fun day.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  She went into her pockets then, searching for something. ‘Do you still smoke?’ she asked.

  ‘No.’

  She gave up and had another drink of coffee. ‘Maybe we would all be better off if there was no such thing as memory.’

  ‘Some memories are good.’

  ‘Some of them are.’

  Carl watched her but she wouldn’t return his look. ‘I should’ve listened to you that day,’ he said. ‘I should’ve … made you tell me what you were trying to tell me. It was my fault you didn’t.’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘It wouldn’t have changed anything. What would you have d
one?’

  ‘Probably something stupid.’

  She laughed. ‘In that case, I wish I had told you.’

  He was glad that she could laugh. There was something off about her though, something wired and jumpy, as if she was thinking of a thousand things at once. Behind her, he could see a large cloud approaching from the southwest. They were about to lose the sun.

  ‘But I don’t want him dead, not really. I just wish he’d never lived. That doesn’t make any sense, does it?’

  ‘It makes perfect sense.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said. ‘Hey, maybe someday they’ll figure a way to program your memory, like a computer. You can just delete the stuff you don’t want. Wouldn’t that be nice? You could keep on file the fishing trips and the walks for ice cream.’ She paused. ‘And delete all the rest.’

  ‘I’d sign up for that.’

  The cloud moved over them now and within seconds they were in shade. The air grew cooler immediately. There was loud clucking from the direction of the barn. The chickens were heading for the brood house on the run, the slight change in the weather setting off some alarm. Carl kept his eyes on Kate as she watched them.

  ‘You want more coffee?’

  She hesitated. ‘No, I’m OK. I should get going.’

  ‘Frances won’t be long.’

  ‘Oh, I can come back. I’ve got some stuff to do. I need to use the bathroom, though.’

  Carl waited while she went into the house. She was limping and trying not to, it seemed. He was at once elated and anxious. Thrilled that she had shown up, fearful she wouldn’t come back. But he felt as if something had broken today, and in a good way.

  When she came out he walked with her to her car. He thought for a moment that she might hug him but she didn’t.

  Frances arrived less than five minutes after she left. Carl had washed the cups and spoons in the kitchen and was walking back down the hill. When he heard her pull in the driveway, he stopped and came back.

  ‘How did it go?’ he asked.

  ‘Bloody perfect, as Rufus put it.’

  ‘The tape looked OK?’

  ‘It looked better than OK,’ Frances said. ‘Hofferman didn’t show with the money.’ She paused. ‘Bud Stephens did.’