The sole sign of life was a scrawny mutt nuzzling a
patch of overgrown grass on the other side of the
road.
“Aw, c’mon, Doc. Just lemme make a few main
points, lemme break on through, lemme zero in on ‘
the main facts, like the shysters say.” His speech
picked up velocity.
I turned away from him and his hard brown
hand dosed on my wrist.
“Please let go, Mr. Moody,” I said with forced
patience.
He stuffed.
“Hey, Doc, I jus wanna talk. State my case.”
“There’s no case. I can’t do anything for you. Let
go of my arm.”
He tightened his grip but no tension registered
on his face. It was a long face, sUn-cured and leathery,
with a broken pug nose at center, a thin-lipped
mouth, and an oversized jaw the kind of mandibular
development you get from chewing tobacco or
gritting your teeth.
I put my car keys in my pocket and reached
around to pry his fingers loose but his strength was
phenomenal That, too, made sense, if what I suspected
was true. It felt like his hand had become
beat-welded to my arm and it was starting to hurt.-
I found myself assessing my chances in a fight:
we were the same height and probably just about
the same weight. Years of hauling lumber had given
in the
edge . physical strength department,
but I’d been sufficiently diligent about karate practice
to have a few good moves. I could .stomp down hard on his instep, hit him when he was off-balance, and drive away as he writhed on the cement … I
interrupted that train of thought, ashamed, telling
myself that fighting him would be absurd. The guy
was disturbed and if anyone should be able to. defuse
him, I should.
I dropped my free arm and let it fall idly to my
side.
“Okay. I’ll listen to you. But first let go so I can
concentrate on what you have to say.”
He thought about it for a second, then grinned
broadly. His teeth were bad and I wondered why I
hadn’t noticed it during the evaluation, but he’d
been different then–morose and defeated, barely
able to open his mouth to speak.
He released my wrist. The piece of sleeve where
he’d held me was grimy and warm.
“I’m listening.”
“Okay, okay, okay.” His head continued to bob.
“Just gotta connect with you, Doc, show you I got
plans, tell you how she twisted you roun’ her little
finger jus’ like she did me. There’s bad stuff in that
22 Jonathan Kellerman
house, my boys tell me how he’s makin’ the kids do
things his way, and she lets it happen, she says
okay, okay. Fine and dandy with her, they be cleanin’
up after a scumbag like that, who knows what kind
of dirt he’s leavin’ around, the guy’s not normal,
you know ? Him wantin’ to be man of the house and
all that, all I gotta say is har, har, you know.
“Know why I’m laughin’, doc, huh? To keep from cryin’, that’s why, keep from cryin’. For my babies.
The boy and the girl. My boy tol’ me the two of
them be sleeping together, him wantin’ to be the
daddy, to be the big shot in the house that I built with these two hands here.”
He held out ten large-knuckled, bruised fingers.
There was an oversized turquoise and Indian silver
ring on each ring finger, one in the shape of a
scorpion, the other a coiled snake.
“You unnerstan’, Doc, you grab what I’m tossin’
at you? Those kids are my life, I carry the burden,
not nobody else, that’s what I tol’ the lady judge,
the bitch in black. I carry it. From. me, from here.”
He grabbed his crotch. “My body into hers when
she was still decent–she could be decent again,
you unnerstan’, I get hold of her, speak some sense,
straighten her out, right? But not with that Conley
there, no way, no fuckin’ way. My kids, my life”
He paused for breath and I took advantage of it.
“You’ll always be their father,” I said, trying to
be reassuring without patronizing him. ‘”No one