Done Speaking.
Pamila:
There is a virgin layer of new snow; covering the back porch and beyond. The Colorado Snow Gods have blessed the Front Range with four inches of crystallized water. Without rhythm to its beat, my heart taunts my chest with sadness. Danny taking in the beauty, and my unknowing to him watching, has become all too familiar. Familiarity is a knowing that usually is a strong building of comfort to me. However, this familiar, I would be better off without. This though is not about me; Danny gets this comfort. Although as he does this for its purpose, he has to be taking it in with now pain. Later for him, if the pain is now, there will be less pain later. Thin by a thread, I hold onto that there will be one more. Danny accepts that this is the last winter wonderland that his sight will gift to him.
Meticulously creating his pyramid over the eleven months that have passed, there has been a gathering of paintings that Danny wants to be always galleried in his mind. Though only a single stone that he has placed, it is a cornerstone. A permanent vision of how it is. Color photographs.
It is about eleven p.m. on February 6th, 2011. In order of relevance: Danny’s last Superbowl; my daughter Sarina’s 25th birthday.
Next morning. 8:36 a.m..
Daniel:
“Get some water buddy.”
“Danny you okay?” Pami breaks from her reading and asks the question that she asks often.
“Bubba!” I shout at him. Ending his re-hydrating, Mervin heads to his mommy in the living room. Leaving behind a trailing of water. The hair on his face is a mop. Why on this particular happening it brings a shout from me, I question. Although, since rising today, I have been nervously tingled by a touch of anxiety. A feeling that I last remember during m sobering days. I feel it and it adds to my anxiety.
“Yes I’m fine Pamila,” I shout back. Softer, I add; “Always fine!” I hear my bad mood rudeness. “Thanks Babe, I’m good.” A kinder person.
Am I okay? I do ask myself. I try not to ponder it more than is healthy. Whatever that time is. I understand Pami’s concern and I appreciate that she is watching. But sometimes her parenting sparks my stored black-powder. It is rarely a musket explosion; more of a slow sizzle and a smoke puff. No matter how I aim it, she should never be the target. I will say that she is comfortably skilled at deflecting the live rounds. However, on occasion I hit the mark. She fires back.
In fairness to her, and for you to know, she had reason to ask. I had gained much walking stick experience. Some of that fallen experience was more than walking. Low hanging branches, tree roots, rocks, slopes, and snakes, were not my friends. The experiences left scratches and bruises. Some worse than others. None worthy of an emergency room visit.
The gradual and unnoticed failing of my vision, noticed only if looking months back, Bubba’s river, park, and street ventures have had incidence. Black Ice, snowplow left-behind’s, and curbs, all have dropped me. One such painful tossing slid by Black Ice had tested the strength of my coccyx. I refused my doctor’s suggestion for a Bone Density test. I had administered the test myself. I was good.
On a route of nine paces through the living room, up the twelve steps, with final destination eight feet to my office, Pami and I pass. Her gait tells me that she is headed to the kitchen with a purpose. Faint to me at the top of the stairs, the kitchen phone rings twice. Not assuming, my had assures that the opening of my desk chair is where I think it. I settle in for a morning’s work. A knock on the front door. Five quick hard raps. Serious barking and quick paws take Bubba out of the office and down. Knowing that Pami is on the phone is not the reason that I follow; the anxiety in me skips a heartbeat.
Reaching for the door handle, I recognize a serious Pami phone voice. Twisting the handle, I tell Mervin to get back.
Pami; “Oh my god.” I flinch toward her.
“Mervin get back!” Sweeping my leg, I push Mervin from the opening. The still low eastern sun pours in and around two figures. At least one other person moves in the lit backdrop. My foot is placed firm against the partially open door, a protecting doorstop. Pamila’s words again want me to turn. Security holds me at my post. Mervin tastes bad with a teeth shown growl. I grasp his worry. A man on the left, a woman on the right. I’m on the man. Mervin snaps at him. “Doctor Rengaw?” the woman asks.
“He’s not a doctor.” She glares at him. More than one in the back move toward me. My hand is flat stiff against the door. I let Mervin move in front of me. This causes only the woman to take a step back. Her head and eyes drop to Mervin’s peeled lips teeth.
“Pmi come here!”
Rapidly she says; “My name is Deputy Sheriff Wilson. Could you… could you…” She is looking down at a squared and pissed Mervin. I pull and scold Mervin who moves behind me and stays behind me.
“Pamila!”
Mervin’s neck is pressed hard against my thigh. He is still angry but a little less so. My actions tell him the enemy is passive. Pami is still talking but I cannot make out words. With her eyes back on me as her head is again up, she continues introductions.
“This is Special Agent Tillman.”
“Special Agent?” Snapping this off I smile. I was pleased, despite knowing that their visit was not social.
Papers in hand, Officer Wilson pushes forward an offering. I was pretty sure that it was not notification that the Jefferson county sheriff’s office had nominated me for citizen of the year. Still, I did hold out the slimmest possibility.
As I was unfolding the five blue double fold papers, Tillman parted with wisdom. “It’s a warrant!” he said. Wilson’s face turns to the Special Person. Glaring at him, daring him to speak, she speaks to me.
“Yes… as you can see Mister Rengaw, it is indeed a search warrant.”
“Deputy why is he here?” Wanting it to be a noticeable slight, I ask this without looking to him.
“The Colorado Bureau of Investigation and the Jefferson county sheriff’s office are joint in an investigation. This warrant is part of that investigation.”
“Investigation? Why am I… am I a person of interest!” Thinking me clever, I chuckle. It was a nervously awkward one. She did not think me clever.
“You are in a lot of shit Rengaw!” said Tillman. I lifted and examined my shoe.
“I don’t think so.” He and I were in a boxer’s stare.
“Doctor Rengaw the special agent is well within his rights to be here.” She paused slightly and attempted to curb my disgust of him. “Please… just don’t… please deal with him.” She again glared at him. “Please Mister Rengaw be the better man.” She paused, and then softly added; “It shouldn’t be hard.” She again glared at the Muppet standing next to her. (No disrespect Miss Piggy.)
The Deputy continued the search warrant serving process. “Per the warrant, these Techs are here to gather all items outlined in the warrant. All of your digital communication equipment. Everything: computers; phones; pads; etc. For both you and your wife.”
“My stuff costs a lot of money; it is very specialized!” I sounded like a grade school kid talking about baseball equipment. “I make a living with that equipment. You can’t just-”
“He’s dead!” Turning sharply to Pamila’s words three techs scurry in and past me. My eyes jump to Pami’s. Mervin snaps at a tech that is moving too quickly and too close. The tech jumps aside and away from teeth that are a warning.
The Deputy; “Dead?” She asked it very calmly. From an officer of the law, I thought the word dead would liven emotion.
Pami is not aware of our building legal problem. Her eyes are not teary. Thus, ‘dead’ is secondary in immediate importance. Me turning back to the law, she finding he, she is aware. “Greg?” Her tone is of true asking. I would have preferred more contempt. “Danny what is happening?” Again pure asking.
Greg’s eyes are pinpoint on Pami’s face. That is where I choose to believe th
ey are. She is now on my left side. She pulls my arm in. She glares stern at him and tightens on my arm. Not moving off him, she yanks the papers from my hand. Contempt! Yes!
“Pamila.” Fake in every way, Tillman greets her. Pami flips through the document in a quick scan. She drops the papers to her side and says; “Department Head Tillman-”
“It’s Special Agent Tillman.” I would have loved to say that, but the deputy was the one that corrected Pami. She seemed to enjoy saying it. Pami looked to me.
“Really?” she said to me oh so cutely. I add to the officer’s enjoyment and mine.
“Yes. You see, it seems that Special Agent Tillman, took a little stumble on his career path. Let’s call it the Monticello mistake.” She snaps back to Tillman. He looks as if he has soiled his drawers. She smiles at him. The deputy does poorly at trying not to laugh. The bear has been poked.
Pamila Bear; “Special Agent! You come into my home, and you present this homogenous search warrant. This warrant that as far as I can tell is nothing more than some sort of a fishing expedition.” I cross my arms on my chest. Pissed Pami continues; “You… you bring these geeks to rummage through my home, how dare you. Greg what the hell happened to you!”
“What the hell happened to you?” I throw in. She glances to me. Okay I will be quiet.
I was a bit surprised by the pissed pep in her voice. Perhaps the phone conversation was stoking this fire. I also thought that the ‘geek’ thing was a bit much. It flew a bit too close to my sun.
Taking a step back from Tillman’s personal space, Pamila did not leave the Deputy without a directed glare. Pamila’s comments, or some other reason for no lost love, the deputy was harsher toned with Pami. “Ma’am you need to take a step back please.” The deputy’s ‘please’ was a wasted word. Not lost on Pamila, Tillman smiles smugly. Pami changes shape. I slide left and between. Marital experience has taught me when she is about to go all Hulk. She bumps into my shielding back. Shielding Tillman from a one hundred and twenty-three pound tornado. She is Yosemite Sam when she goes off. The poor stupid bastard had no idea how close he was.
“Ma’am!” The officer’s eyes dart from Pamila to me. They tell me that I need to stop the Morrison Mauler. Like a boxing referee, I separate and back push her away from a staggering Tillman. Tillman was groggy and staggering. H just didn’t know it.
Pointing to the warrant that was sill dangling in Pami’s left hand, the deputy continued; “As you can see we have a legal right to be here. We need to collect all and everything.” Talk about homogenous. I tried to clarify with tone.
“All and everything! What the hell does that mean?”
Deputy; “The warrant is very specific if you read it complete.”
The deputy suddenly turns aside. From behind my right ear there is; “Excuse me sir.” My tower in hand, a tech brushes by. Instantly wanting to be love protecting, I had to let it go. Without pardoning words, a second leaves out the doorway; Pami’s Notebook and my laptop in tow.
“Deputy?” My head turns to the remaining technician’s word. He is holding my cell phone in presentation. I try to remember where I had left it.
Deputy; “I need all of your phones. Is that the only cell that you two have? We are checking. If you hide evidence it is a felony.” Looking back to the deputy’s question and threat, I travel back to age fifteen. Should I lie? Is there a reason to lie?
“I am not giving you my cell phone.”
“Pamila?” I question. Tillman decides to stop looking stupid and add something to the situation.
“Per the warrant, if you knowingly keep any digital equipment from us, you are in contempt of court and subject to prosecution for hindering an investigation. If we believe you are hindering an investigation, we can take you into custody immediately.”
“You’re and idiot! I say to the idiot.
Pami; “What investigation you moron!” Pami turns inward with an offering palm. “Well then I guess I better give you our microwave. Oh! And our coffee maker is digital!” No not the coffee maker. “How about our remotes. How about our cars and thermostats and clocks and-”
“Misses Rengaw!” The deputy was done. “I am only going to ask you one more time; do either of you have any more digital communication equipment of any type?” She paused. Calmer she said; “Misses Rengaw, I need your cell phone.”
Pami’s energy drained into the grounded floor. Her eyes briefly caught mine as she walked off with a disgusted sigh. Her paces seemed larger than normal as she took only four to get to the coffee table. Retrieving her phone from within a small foo foo decorative wicker basket, she says; “Your techs suck!” I muffled a brief chuckle. The last tech seemed a tad miffed. He slammed out his asking hand. “Here you go honey!” She drew out ‘honey’ long and snotty. I had gotten that ‘honey’ before. The tech lifted it from her held open hand. He headed off with a sound of his own. Pamila headed off.
I watched her turn the corner into the kitchen. Turning back to the two, a metal pan cluttered loudly on a counter-top. Neither of them spoke, so I did. “That is it. We do not, knowingly, have any other communication systems.”
Deputy; “Thank you. Would either of you like to make a written statement at this time?” She had little conviction in her words. She seemed confused by her own words. I know I was.
“What? I don’t understand. Why would I make a statement? About what?”
Tillman; “Rengaw you know very well!” I laughed brief nervous at the moment.
Deputy; “Perhaps you’d like to contact a lawyer before speaking to us.”
“Are you arresting me? Am I under arrest?”
Tillman; “Just a matter of time Rengaw.” Looking into her face there was a pale seriousness.
Well thought out and definitive, my chosen words were; “I am done speaking.”
The end of the center.
Speak with you soon.
Two Lost Souls Page 13