Straw Man

by Gerry Boyle

  “Wesley Rowe, Jr.,” she said. “Dad is Senior, goes by ‘Beefy.’ ”

  “You know him.”

  “Know a lot of people around here.”

  “You didn’t know me,” I said.

  “Do now,” Staples said. “And Billy. Scar on his neck?”

  “Yes. Jagged.”

  “Billy Sloban.”

  “I figured it for a bottle,” I said. “Bar fight. Fourth guy was called Semi, like the truck. Or the gun.”

  “Bates Cropley. Lightweight compared to the other three. But give him time.”

  She looked at me a little harder and said, “You the one put Sloban in the cast?”

  “Friend of mine, actually.”

  “He a reporter, too?” she said.

  “No, a disabled combat veteran.”

  “Couldn’t have been too disabled.”

  “For some of these guys, it’s like riding a bicycle,” I said. “Hand to hand, I mean. He was defending himself, by the way.”

  Staples looked at me like she was starting to figure me out.

  “You know, Mr. McMorrow, in my experience most reporters don’t ride quite so close to the edge,” she said.

  I felt Roxanne behind me; Welt, too.

  “Wusses,” I said.

  I waited by the truck while Staples talked to Roxanne and then, briefly, Welt. After a minute, Roxanne gave Sophie a kiss and sent her over to me. I picked her up and held her and she put her chin on my shoulder and was quiet as I patted her back. She felt very small, tucked into me. Finally, she whispered, “I want to go home and see Pokey.”

  “We will,” I said. “Have you had lunch? I can make you mac and cheese.”

  “I’m not hungry. Welt made us French toast,” Sophie said. “With their own eggs and syrup from their own trees.”

  Of course, I thought.

  “Sounds yummy,” I said.

  Welt, standing twenty feet away by the farm entrance, must have sensed that he was being talked about, and he smiled sympathetically. I looked through him and held Sophie closer. She said, in a muffled voice, her chin pressed against my collarbone, “Are the bad men coming back, Daddy?”

  “They’re gone,” I said, dodging the question. “And the police lady is going to find them and tell them to stay far, far away.”

  Sophie was silent for minute, her arms around my neck, and then she said, “What if they disobey?”

  When Roxanne was done, she came over and held out her arms and Sophie swung over to her. Roxanne patted her back and avoided my gaze and we stood, the whole family, and said nothing.

  Welt and Staples stood and talked, the cruiser out of place in front of the HEAVEN SENT FARM SIGN, the white rail fence, the crimson-leafed maples lining the drive, the dappled goats grazing in the pasture.

  The police radio squawked. A goat baahed. What were they—LaManchas?

  After a long five minutes, Welt and Staples approached. Staples was putting a small notebook in the breast pocket of her uniform. Welt looked puffed up by the attention, like he’d saved the day.

  Roxanne put Sophie down. Welt took her hand and led her over to the fence and they started picking black-eyed Susans.

  “We’ll pick them up and talk to them about why they were out here,” Staples said. “We could summons them for stalking, but it’s hard to justify that with just one incident. There’s also the question of who was the aggressor. Mr. McMorrow, they’ll probably claim your attack on them was unprovoked—that they didn’t know Mrs. McMorrow was here.”

  “And they’ll be lying,” I said.

  “Doesn’t matter,” she said. “I’m just saying I can warn them, but I probably can’t lock them up. Not for this.”

  “So we’re at their mercy?” Roxanne said. “They can just follow me around? Wait for their chance to do . . . whatever?”

  “I’m not gonna let these assholes come near my family,” I said.

  “So you’re saying you can’t do anything,” Roxanne said.

  “If you see them again, if they seem like they’re following you, let’s say, or if they drive by your house over and over in the middle of the night—”

  “There’d be no over and over,” I said.

  Staples pointed her finger at me. “Leave it to law enforcement,” she said. “Call 911.”

  “And you’ll be there in what? Twenty minutes?”

  “I’m strongly advising you, Mr. McMorrow,” the deputy said. “Do you have firearms in the house?”

  I didn’t answer, which she took to be a yes.

  “You don’t want to shoot somebody unless it’s a total last resort. It’s a can of worms.”

  There was an awkward moment where nobody talked. Sophie had a bouquet in one hand and she and Welt were crouched down, looking at a caterpillar. “And then when it comes out, it will be a beautiful monarch butterfly,” Welt was saying.

  “Call me if you have any questions,” Staples said, and she held out her card. Roxanne took it, then walked over to Welt and Sophie and took Sophie by the hand. They walked to the car and Roxanne said as they passed, “See you at home.”

  She got Sophie buckled in the backseat, got in the car, backed into the drive. Roxanne pulled back out and drove off down the road and the deputy followed. Welt had walked over from the fence and the flowers, and we watched as the two cars drove over a rise and out of sight.

  “She’s right, you know,” he said.

  “About what?” I said.

  “These guys are violent, and if you match their violence, you’re the one who loses.”

  “Spare me the lecture, Weltie. Where were you when he was coming around the truck with a baseball bat? Diddling with your phone and staying as far away as possible.”

  “I was calling 911,” he said.

  “While my wife gets in their face with the car.”

  “We needed the police.”

  “ We didn’t need anything,” I said. “You needed to get off your cowardly ass and step in.”

  “Oh, come on, Jack. I know you’re upset, but—”

  “Sure I’m upset. A couple of dirtbags following my wife and kid, watching Roxanne and licking their lips.”

  “I understand why you’d get emotional,” Welt said, like he was my therapist. “But I think the lesson here is, don’t engage. That only gets you entangled. It’s like Rox and I were telling the kids: Two wrongs not only don’t make a right; most of the time they make three wrongs, because—”

  “Rox?”

  He looked startled.

  “Yeah. I mean, that’s what I call her. I say it with the utmost respect, Jack. She’s one of the most amazing people I’ve ever met. I’m sure you know that.”

  “I know you like her. Sometimes I think you like her too much,” I said.

  He went wide-eyed. Shocked.

  “Jack. I think Roxanne is a lovely person, and I love working with her. But that doesn’t mean I have, I don’t know, designs on her.”

  “Good to know, Welt,” I said. “But I’m not stupid. I know when some guy is looking down my wife’s shirt. Can’t keep his hand off her leg.”

  He looked aghast, mouth hanging open.

  “Jeez, Jack. That’s just nuts. I mean, you’ve got it all wrong. I have total respect for the institution of marriage. You don’t know this, but that’s why Cassie and I decided to split. We knew that we both had such high expectations of marriage that when we started to grow in different directions, both of us, we were preventing each other from achieving the intimacy and oneness that marriage deserves. Look, I know you and Roxanne are going through a bit of a rough patch right now, but—”

  “Who told you that?” I said.

  “Nobody told me. I mean, I know Roxanne has been unhappy, not her usual self. When you spend a lot of time with a person, you can read their moods, and—”

  “Then read this mood. I don’t like guys pawing at my wife. I don’t like guys who run away from a fight. I don’t like guys who lecture me about how I do my job, how
I live my life.”

  Welt’s expression hardened, his ice-blue eyes turning icier.

  “I’m truly sorry if you and Roxanne are unhappy. But I wouldn’t give up.”

  A pause.

  “Not yet,” he said. He grinned, the real Welt showing through.

  I felt anger well up, my muscles tense. And at that instant when I wanted to hit him, hit him hard, I knew that would play right into his hands, push Roxanne closer to him.

  “You don’t know what sorry is,” I said. “And you’d better pray you don’t find out.”

  I turned and walked to the truck, got in, and started the motor. As I pulled away I saw him smile, maybe even chuckle, as he watched me pass.

  8

  Roxanne and Sophie were on the couch. The Jungle Book was playing on the TV, animals dancing and singing, Mowgli swinging through the trees. There was a bowl of popcorn on the table, barely touched. Sophie was asleep, her head snuggled against Roxanne’s chest.

  Roxanne held a finger up to her lips. I nodded and walked back to the kitchen, opened the refrigerator.

  There was egg salad, probably from Welt’s eggs. I took out the milk and a jar of strawberry jam, from the supermarket. The peanut butter was from the supermarket, too. I took down a loaf of homemade wheat bread. Welt didn’t sell bread, that I knew, but I checked the label. A bakery in Galway. I opened the bag and took two slices out and made a sandwich.

  I was leaning against the counter eating the sandwich when Roxanne came in.

  “She’s asleep,” she said.

  “Late night at the sleepover?” I said.

  “And she was upset. When she’s upset, her defense is to go to sleep.”

  I took a bite of sandwich and a swallow of milk.

  “It was upsetting,” I said.

  Roxanne went to the refrigerator and took out the egg salad. She spooned a mound onto a plate and added some lettuce, then went to the table and sat. We ate in silence until Roxanne said, “How did they know where I was, or who I was?”

  “They were following me this morning. Somebody pointed you out as my wife.”

  Roxanne’s fork scraped the plate. The animals were singing again in the living room. I finished the sandwich and wiped peanut butter from my mouth.

  “Well, they know me now. Why were you coming to Welt’s?”

  “Wanted to get a look at the place, if my daughter is going to be spending so much time there.”

  “And your wife?”

  I paused.

  “Yes.”

  “I was embarrassed, Jack. For all kinds of reasons.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know they’d show up.”

  “And I didn’t know you’d show up. Why didn’t you just drive up and say hello? Welt would have given you the tour. He’s very hospitable.”

  I didn’t answer.

  “Do you feel like you have to spy on me?” Roxanne said, her voice cold and calm.

  “I’m worried,” I said.

  “I told you that you didn’t have to be.”

  “You’re not the one who worries me.”

  “It takes two, right? So if I say it’s nothing, then it’s nothing.”

  I waited.

  “Do you think I’d lie to you?”

  “No.”

  “Then what?”

  “I don’t trust him. He’s very persuasive.”

  “What—you think Welt will seduce me or something?”

  “I sure as hell think he’d try,” I said.

  Roxanne took a deep breath. I heard her exhale.

  “We have a problem then, Jack.”

  “I think we do,” I said. Baloo, the bear from The Jungle Book, was talking.

  I hesitated, then said, “I sort of called him out. After you left.”

  She turned, looked up from the table. “You did what?”

  “I told him I thought he should have stepped in with those guys.”

  “He was calling the police.”

  “Standing still, a hundred yards away. I think he may have backed up.”

  “My God, Jack. I can’t believe this. And after we talked?”

  My turn for a deep breath. Snarling from the television. The evil tiger, Shere Khan.

  “I told him I thought he had inappropriate feelings toward you.”

  “What!”

  “He said I was nuts. He knew we were going through a rough patch, as he put it. He gave me some therapy-speak. And he said he was sorry our marriage was on the rocks. Or something like that.”

  “What the hell?”

  “I think it was his way of getting a shot in,” I said.

  “No, I mean—what the hell were you thinking? This is my friend.”

  She was simmering now, about to boil over.

  “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you, but that’s how I feel.”

  “Embarrassed me, Jack? I’m mortified. And Sophie is traumatized, seeing her daddy grappling with some thugs and the police coming. My God.”

  “What did you expect me to do—let them follow you home?”

  “You could have called me in the car. Told me to go to the supermarket or something. Call the police then. Instead you rush into this huge confrontation.”

  “They needed to know,” I said.

  “Know what?”

  “That they’d crossed the line.”

  “They’re not the only ones, Jack. God almighty. Calling him a coward. Accusing him of having an affair with me. Did I say anything when you were hanging around with that sculptor lady?”

  I didn’t answer.

  “You were smitten with her,” Roxanne said.

  I shrugged.

  “And she was infatuated with you,” she said.

  “She was just lonely,” I said.

  “Whatever. But I didn’t go over there and say, ‘Hands off my man.’ No, I trusted you, no matter what her intentions were.”

  A pause.

  “And then today, grabbing that guy by the throat.”

  “It’s not like it’s the first time this sort of thing has happened,” I said, “that I’ve had to step up. The guys from Sanctuary, they could have—”

  “Okay. So I appreciate that you’ve protected us. I really do.”

  A momentary softening.

  “But I’m seeing things differently now. There’s got to be a way to break the cycle, not just fighting battle after battle.”

  “Somebody points a gun at you, it’s a little late to talk about role models,” I said.

  “But we can be role models. For our daughter.”

  “I thought I was. Would you rather have somebody like me or Clair or somebody like Welt, asking these dirtbags to share their feelings?”

  “Goddamn it, Jack,” Roxanne snapped. “Don’t you see? You’re turning into one of them.”

  Her eyes filled with angry tears, her cheeks pale, teeth clenched. She walked past me to the sink, put her plate in the dishwasher. Walked past me again and out to the living room. I heard Sophie murmur, Roxanne say, “It’s okay, honey. We were just talking.”

  I stood in the kitchen for ten minutes, all of it playing and replaying in my head. Then I walked out to the living room, saw Sophie asleep on Roxanne’s shoulder again. Roxanne was staring at the movie. She didn’t look up.

  “I’m going out,” I said.

  No response.

  “To talk to Clair.”

  Roxanne stared.

  I went out to the truck, started it, drove down the road and into the barnyard. Clair’s truck was there but Louis’s Jeep was gone. Good. This was private.

  I went into the barn and the music and lights were on but Clair wasn’t there. I walked through and out the side door at the rear and saw him out by the paddock. He was moving fence railings, letting Pokey out into the near pasture. Pokey waited for the gap to open and then ambled out, long tail flicking. Clair looked up.

  “I’d ask you how things were going,” he said, putting the railing back in place, “but I think I can tell.”
<
br />   “The last of the great mind readers,” I said.

  Clair crossed the paddock, let himself out, and came over to lean on the fence beside me. He waited, and after a minute of watching Pokey graze, I started in. The farm. Billy and Baby Fat showing up. Them eyeballing Roxanne, then pulling out to follow her. The rest of it, right up to Roxanne on the couch.

  We leaned. Clair took his hat off and smoothed his silver hair, put his hat back on. Pokey started walking in search of better grass. I waited. Pokey stopped and lowered his head.

  “You can’t lose her,” Clair said.

  “No,” I said.

  “But everything you’re doing is driving a wedge.”

  “I know.”

  “Shouldn’t have gone out to that farm.”

  “I just don’t like the smarmy bastard. He’s working this, knowing Roxanne likes the conflict-resolution stuff and that it’s a way to get us apart.”

  Clair looked across the pasture.

  “I don’t doubt he’s got some sort of crush on her. Infatuation or whatever. Who wouldn’t? But you have to trust her. And talk things out. Communication keeps you close.”

  “I didn’t know we weren’t communicating. Really, I’m not sure where it all went wrong. I mean, I thought things were great. I’m getting good stories. Best stories in years. Making good money. I’ve been busy, but I thought we were fine. Sophie is fine. And then we meet those guys in the woods.”

  “Went off track before that,” Clair said. “You just weren’t paying attention.”

  “I thought she was okay. Maybe a little lonely because I was away so much.”

  “Big difference between lonely and neglected, Jack. You got all caught up in your stories, the big magazines calling you up. You weren’t seeing her, even when you were around.”

  I grimaced.

  “And our outlaw friends, they’re complicating things. Roxanne, working on this peace project, is sensitive to strife and violence, and that’s just what these guys are about.”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “And they’re a real threat,” Clair said.

  “That, too.”