Local Knowledge

by Liza Gyllenhaal

  Riccio stood up suddenly and walked around the table to stand behind Harry and me. I guessed he was looking out the window as he continued.

  “I believe I’m a good judge of character. It’s something you develop after years of doing this kind of work. I believe that Paul is basically a straight shooter. What you told me earlier, Maddie, about him being desperate to find a decent job? I believe that. What he did was take a shortcut—hoping to make a lot of money fast. I don’t think he thought through the situation—that what he was doing was illegal. I don’t think he could allow himself to face that, do you understand? He wanted the money too much. And why? He told me why, Maddie. He wanted to put enough aside to get married, to start a construction business, to begin a family.”

  I felt tears stinging along my eyelids. Riccio’s words were like a comforting embrace. He was telling me exactly what I needed to hear. He was giving me back my life. Paul hadn’t meant to hurt or humiliate me. He’d taken a terrible and foolish risk because he loved me; he had done it for us. Harry must have sensed something of what I was feeling. I give him credit that he saw before I did where all this was going. He realized that I was part of the bigger picture, too.

  “What do you want her to do?” Harry asked as Riccio came back around to his side of the table. He didn’t sit down. He just stood there, looking at me, his head tilted appraisingly. I think he was trying to see into me, to understand what I was made of.

  “Talk to Paul,” he said to me, ignoring Harry’s question. “Let him talk to you. Have him tell you what he told me. He needs you right now. He’s very much alone and in a lot of pain. Talk to him, Maddie. Let him see that he’s only hurting himself by not telling me what he knows. I only need a name or two. Not that much. I won’t make this offer to Luke, do you understand? As I said, I’m a good judge of character. I can believe what Paul tells me. Not Luke. Think about that a little bit, Maddie. This was all Luke’s big idea, wasn’t it? The plants were grown and processed on Luke’s property. Luke’s in serious, serious trouble. But I think there’s a way of making things easier for Paul if he helps us out.”

  “We don’t care about that,” Harry said. “What about Maddie? If she does this, will you leave her alone from now on? Will you guarantee us that her name will be kept officially out of the investigation, the trial, anything and all to do with this case?”

  Riccio looked from Harry to me. He nodded and gave me a sad smile.

  “Of course,” he said. “I think Maddie and I understand each other.”

  12

  Everybody knew. I believe it was all anybody really talked about, though never in my presence. I felt both radioactive and invisible; some people avoided me, others looked right through me. A hush fell when I passed certain groups in the hallway at school. Conversations broke off abruptly when I walked into the Red River general store. Word spread. The story, covered extensively by the Northridge Times-Dispatch, was picked up by a Boston paper and carried on the AP wire. “New Cash Crop Found in Rural Farming Community: Marijuana.” The news articles were heavy on background, especially Luke’s, and light on any developments in the case itself. Luke and Paul were out on bail; the investigation was ongoing. My name was never mentioned in any of the items. But I think most people assumed I had to be involved in some way. Over the last six months or so, I’d been seen everywhere with Paul and Luke—and hardly ever with anybody else.

  My father and Harry had argued about how I should get in touch with Paul.

  “Have her just pick up the damned phone and call,” Harry had advised after we left the police station and were walking back to the parking lot. “The sooner she gets the conversation over with, the sooner she can move on. Don’t let this fester, John. You need to cut this person out of her life with a knife, do you understand?”

  “Oh, I understand,” he said. “I also know that Paul would see through her in a minute if she contacted him after all this. He’ll know she’s been set up. Don’t you worry, Harry, we’ll take care of this our way.” But Harry grasped what my father couldn’t. My father assumed the world shared his fury and shame. At that point, I’m sure it didn’t even cross his mind that I might feel differently. After we got home and he filled my mother in on what Riccio had recommended, he told me, “This is what I think: Paul’s going to try and get in touch with you again. Let him make the first move. It will be easier for you to be yourself with him that way—and to convince him to talk to the lieutenant. That’s all you’ve got to do, Maddie, then you’re clear of this thing, okay?”

  He believed he was reassuring me, promising me Paul would be out of my life. I thought it odd that no one seemed to realize that there was only one way I would be able to convince Paul to name names. No, I think Riccio knew, or he would never have suggested this route in the first place. Nothing happened for almost another week, then, just when I was beginning to despair, it came via a most unlikely messenger.

  “Hey, Maddie.” It was the same old pickup truck only hiked up another two feet and refitted with enormous new mufflers. Since graduating last year, Kenny had obviously been busy doing what he loved most. School was out for the afternoon and I was in front of the main entrance waiting for the bus. As usual these days, I was alone.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked Kenny. “Picking up Ruthie?”

  “No. I thought you knew. She’s been out sick. I was just around, seeing somebody. You want a ride home? I’m heading that way.”

  There was something sweetly comforting about riding along in the front seat next to Kenny; it was like regressing to the lost innocence of what seemed a lifetime but was really less than two years ago. How far I’d traveled, back and forth along these same roads, since that first kiss on the Ferris wheel! Kenny and I had never had much to say to each other. I assumed he’d turn on the radio soon, or else we’d drive along in our old companionable silence.

  “I’m sorry about what happened, Maddie,” he said soon after we made the turn south onto Route 206. “I bet it’s been hard on you.”

  “Oh,” I said. I could handle being misunderstood by my parents. I could take being ignored by my schoolmates. Stared at by people in town. But Kenny’s kindness hit me hard. I looked out the passenger window, away from him, blinking back tears. “Yes. Thanks. Thank you.”

  “These things get all blown out of proportion, I think. Everybody can make a mistake. That’s my feeling about the situation, anyway. I’ve never been that tight with Paul, you know, but I can tell you that he’s basically a good guy. He’s always been okay to me—I mean, in spite of everything.”

  These were the most words I’d ever heard Kenny utter at one time. I was touched by what he was trying to say, but I also wondered about what seemed to me like nervous chattiness on his part.

  “And Luke. I don’t know him that well, either, really. But, you know, he’s been a good friend of Ruthie’s. And he seems like an okay guy—not the way everybody’s painting him out to be. He’s been very quiet and grateful since he came to stay with us.”

  “Luke’s living with your family?”

  “Well, it’s just Ruthie and me right now. My mom’s up in Albany with Grand. They got him on life support, you know. When Ruthie heard that Luke’s mom was in the hospital again, she made us drive right over there and bring him home to our place. Good thing, too.”

  “How long has he been living with you?” I asked. I’d been so isolated by my own pain I hadn’t really registered the fact that Ruthie wasn’t in school. Nor had I heard about Mrs. Barnett being institutionalized again, though I was hardly surprised. I remembered her terrified “Lukie, is that you?” and then her skittering away up the stairs when the police cruisers approached. For the first time, I wondered how Luke had managed his bail, who was supporting him legally and otherwise. It was so like Ruthie to forgive Luke all his past transgressions and take him under her wing. She was the kind of person who was incapable of withholding help to anyone who needed it—even if she knew that it would only end up h
urting her in the long run. And she loved the drama and excitement of other people’s troubles, from the splashy breakups of Hollywood celebrities to the drunken brawls of the couple down the road.

  “A week about,” Kenny said, turning onto Old Northridge Road.

  “I thought you were driving me home.”

  “I was hoping you’d come back to our place,” he said, glancing sideways at me. He looked anxious and unhappy all of a sudden, his dark brow furrowed. “There’s someone who wants to talk to you.”

  “Kenny, please, no! I can’t see Luke.” I meant that almost literally. I couldn’t really conceive of him anymore. He was no longer a person to me. Riccio may have given me back Paul, but he’d taken away any human feelings I might have had for Luke. Riccio had more or less said what I believed in my heart: this was all Luke’s idea. His fault. His responsibility. He’d manipulated Paul into helping him, and now Luke was allowing an essentially innocent man to face the consequences of his own grandiose and disastrous schemes. Luke Barnett was a black hole, sucking all the light and joy out of my life.

  “It’s not Luke. It’s Paul. He has to see you, and your dad won’t let him. So Ruthie thought up this idea, you know?” He kept glancing over at me. “I was supposed to break the news gently. Talk you into it. Because we used to be friends?”

  “We’re still friends,” I told him. “Don’t worry. You did the right thing.” I saw it all now, especially Ruthie’s role in devising this solution. I’m sure she saw Paul and me as star-crossed lovers, Romeo and Juliet, in need of a quiet chapel to plan our elopement. I knew that as far as she was concerned, our predicament was tragic and thrilling, and she loved being in the middle of all the intrigue. Oh, what I would have given at that point to have Ruthie’s capacity to spin the sad facts of our situation into one of her romantic fantasies!

  The Genzlinger place was made up of three mismatched structures: a prefab A-frame where the family lived, a double-wide trailer that had been home to Kenny’s grandfather until his recent stroke, and an enormous shingled barn, the only structure left over from the original farm that had once stood on the property, where Kenny worked on his cars. The quarter acre of land separating these buildings was patchy and rutted, both turnaround and parking area for the dozen or so cars and trucks that Kenny was in various stages of rebuilding. I thought the A-frame looked abandoned. The windows were curtainless. A garbage can sat on its side—its lid having rolled a few yards away—at the bottom of the short flight of steps that led up to the side door. Then I saw Ruthie at the window, the door opening, Paul coming out, and then turning around to say something to Ruthie and wave her back inside the house. He came down the steps with an almost painful deliberation, his hands thrust into the back pockets of his jeans. All the Alden boys walked that way, in a kind of he-man saunter that looked cocksure to those who didn’t know any better.

  “I’ll take you home when you’re ready,” Kenny told me, getting out of the car. He left his door open. Paul got in and slammed the door shut. We sat there, both staring straight ahead at the automobile graveyard before us. The situation felt hauntingly reminiscent of the night Paul drove me home in the snowstorm and we sat in his VW at the bottom of my driveway. The night when, in talking about Kenny, he said to me: “I hope you’re not going to make the same mistake about me. Think I’m someone I’m not.”

  I didn’t know that I was crying until I felt the tears rolling down my cheeks. I tried to wipe them away before Paul saw them.

  “All I’ve been thinking about is how much I’ve hurt you,” Paul began. His voice was shaky, and it took him several seconds before he could continue. “I don’t know if I can explain any of this to you in a way that will make sense, but I’d like to try. Will you let me try?”

  I nodded enough times for him to see, without turning my head. I knew that if I looked at him I would fall apart, and I couldn’t let myself do that. I had rehearsed what I was going to say to him, and I needed to stay in control of myself.

  “Luke didn’t tell me in the beginning exactly what he had in mind,” Paul began. “He talked a lot about using what we had—our birthright, our land—to build our future. He had this idea, he said, for developing the Barnett estate. Yes, it was vague. I remember you saying to me that it all sounded so vague. And it stayed that way until … well, until it wasn’t anymore. There are things I can’t tell you because I don’t want you to know more about any of this than you need to. But I will tell you one thing, Maddie: you can’t know, you’ll never know, how much I hated keeping you in the dark about everything. But I couldn’t let you get involved. I didn’t want you to be in the middle of any of this. Do you understand that?”

  “I think so.” It was the first thing I’d said aloud, and my voice sounded girlish and small. “What did you think when you found out what Luke was actually doing?”

  “At first, I thought he was crazy. The whole thing was illegal. Risky. Just plain nuts. There was a week or so when I wanted out. Luke said fine, but that he was going to go ahead anyway. He didn’t need me; he had his Albany people. And then, I don’t know, I just sort of let myself go along with it for a while. Things were so bad at home. I was working for nothing at the dairy, and there was no other work out there. Nothing. And Luke said something that struck me as true: we were just farming, really, and then selling what we grew. It was the natural order of things. We were growing something that people really wanted, and would pay good money to buy. Then we actually started to make some money. It happened so fast. It was so easy!” Paul shook his head as he stared out past the half-dismantled cars and trucks.

  “You lied to me. You lied to my parents. You—”

  “I lied to myself, Maddie. I kept finding reasons why it was okay, why it all made sense. Why it was just the beginning. A way to make a start. I was putting some money away. Luke and I—you know we still kept talking about his original idea. Trying to do something with the land. Maybe put up some houses on spec. I began to think that it was all doable. We just needed to get a little money together. Get past this first phase. That’s how I thought about it. I want you to know that I was determined to be out of it—done with the marijuana—before we got married. That was my deadline. By then, I figured I’d have enough money put away… .”

  “What happened?” I asked. “What was going on when you called me at the cottage?”

  “We heard something—from one of Luke’s contacts.”

  “Were you in Albany?”

  “What does it matter, Maddie? I just knew I had to get you out of there.”

  “Because why? Because you had drugs there, too, right? Upstairs?”

  “I’m sorry. How did you find out?”

  “The police,” I said. There was no point in not telling him at least part of the truth. “I’ve talked to them twice. They made me go over and over everything. I think they finally had to face the fact that I couldn’t help them much.”

  “I’m so sorry. God, I’m just … ”

  “My parents, well, you know they’ll never get over this. My dad is like … insane, I think.”

  “And my dad has me by the balls,” Paul said. “In a really weird way, I realize that—deep down—he’s not all that upset about it somehow. He’s got me where he wants me now. You know that fight I had with him this summer? When I moved out? I don’t know how he knew, but somehow he found out what Luke and I were up to. I wouldn’t put it past him if he drove up to check out the site himself, you know? He was so pissed when I decided not to stay with the dairy. He told me I was a lowlife, a loser. And now he tells me that every day just to make sure I haven’t forgotten.”

  “And Luke? Kenny told me he’s living here now.”

  “Yeah. Well.” Paul shook his head. “He’s in pretty bad shape. I guess I never really realized how much dope he was smoking, but it was obviously a lot more than he should have. He says he’s an addict. That it runs in the family. Ruthie’s driving him up to Harringdale for NA meetings. He has an uncle in Saratog
a who says he’ll be willing to help him out if he can pull himself together. This has hit him really hard. I should have seen what was going on with him. I should have realized he was losing it.”

  “So you don’t blame him for any of this?” I asked, turning to him finally. “Can’t you see how he’s manipulated you? From the very beginning! How he’s used you and—”

  “No, Maddie,” he said, reaching for my hand, but I pulled it away. “I take full responsibility for my actions. I knew what I was doing. I knew why I was doing it. I blame myself for not stopping Luke when I should have. For letting him get in way over his head.”

  “I don’t believe this! I can’t believe what I’m hearing! This was Luke’s idea. Luke’s land. His contacts. His total and absolute screwup. And you want to take responsibility for it?”

  “Yes,” Paul said. “I do. Luke and I went into this together, but I realize now that I was the one who went into it with my eyes wide open. I think Luke was too out of it most of the time to really understand what was going on. I should have known that this was all just a crazy pipe dream—literally. It was all just stoned bullshit. What idiot wouldn’t get that, Maddie? I’ll tell you who: someone who wanted way too much to believe it could actually work out. Someone who didn’t want to see what was right in front of his fucking face: a friend who was spinning out of control.”

  “And taking you with him!”

  “I let him, Maddie. I allowed it to happen. And I wasn’t stoned the whole time, was I? That’s the difference. That’s where the blame lies. Luke was not responsible for his actions. I was. Can’t you see that?”

  “What’s going to happen?” I asked.

  “I’m going to jail. I’m not sure for how long.”

  “Riccio told me you have some say in the matter. You have a choice.”

  “No, I can’t do that.”

  “You can’t? You can’t give the man a name or two in order to get a reduced sentence?”

  “That’s not what this is about,” Paul told me. “It’s not about the names. It’s about turning on my best friend. They know they’ve got Luke, and they won’t let him go. They’re not going to cut him any slack. But they see me as a gray area, someone whose involvement they can paint a couple of different ways if they need to. I’m not a fool, Maddie. Talk about being manipulated! That’s what they’re trying to do with me. I’m sorry they’re trying to use you, too. I’m so sorry you’re involved in any of this. I think you better go. I think your dad is right. I should be dead to you.”