Now They Call Me Gunner

by Thom Whalen

  * * *

  Knowing, or at least having an excellent hypothesis, about who had killed Billy and why, was a huge advance, but I was a long way from proving that the Snakes had done it.

  In fact, we were a long way from creating reasonable doubt in a courtroom. I didn’t have a speck of evidence that Billy had raped The Doll, that the Road Snakes had vowed revenge, or that they had found Billy and done for him.

  Not a speck.

  And I was pretty sure that if any of the Road Snakes were brought before a jury, they’d swear under oath that none of that had happened.

  On Wednesday morning, I went to see Randal.

  He was gone. Officer Monsour said, “He couldn’t stay here forever, much as he loved our fine food and generous hospitality. He got taken up to Canton yesterday, a couple of hours after you left. I think he’s going to court today or tomorrow.”

  My heart sank. “His trial is starting? Already started?”

  Monsour laughed. “No. He’s just getting arraigned. He won’t be tried for months yet. Maybe a year.”

  “What’s arraigned?”

  “A show. Sound and fury signifying nothing.”

  I never would have guessed that Monsour knew anything about the Bard of Avon, much less would be able to quote him. Wonders never cease. Some day pigs will fly.

  Monsour continued, “At the arraignment, the judge tells him what the charges are, murder in the first degree, in this case, and then asks for a plea. If there is no deal in place, then the prisoner pleads not guilty and the judge sets a trial date. Oh, and he hears any motions that the lawyers offer. The arraignment’s mostly so that everyone can get a look at each other and get the boring business out of the way early.”

  Officer Monsour was almost a lawyer. I could hear pigs beginning to flap their wings somewhere.

  Less fancifully, this meant that I was on my own. I couldn’t be running up to Canton every time I needed help.

  I asked myself what Randal would expect me to do next.

  The only answer to that was that I had to break into the Road Snakes’ clubhouse and look for evidence that they’d killed Billy.

  Some chance.

  Somewhere, a pig was crashing to earth. There’d be raw bacon flying in all directions like lard shrapnel.