By Carrie Kartman
“What are you going to do about it?”
This skinny mid-thirties man standing before me was wound up like a spring, about ready to propel straight out of his gray suit and shiny loafers. And he was twisting the brim of his hat so hard it would never get back in shape. Foolish to ruin an expensive hat like that, I thought. I took my time, evaluating the situation, considering my words before answering. Ever since the state highway had gone in fifteen years ago, I’d been dealing with these types. They got off the highway, wandered into town, and sooner or later ended up in my office complaining about Mrs. Ferris’s dog, or the Grover boys, or something or nothing done to them in a town that asked only to be left alone. It was up to me as Sheriff, to get them back in their cars and out of town. This time it was about Irene Jenner, who lived out on County Route 17. She was in her eighties now, still made the best apple pies ever, and brought one to us every year. She’d been a school teacher, was widowed a number of years back and had lived alone ever since. I checked in on her now and then, and despite having a good-natured way about her, she had a sharp wit which always seemed to surprise me.
“Now you weren’t hurt, right?” I repeated to the man, for the second time.
“No no, I wasn’t hurt, but that’s not the point! I could have been killed damn it! She was aiming right at my head. Fast reflexes saved me. Fast reflexes and a measure of luck, are the only reason I’m standing before you. She’s a menace and something has to be done.”
I held back a chuckle at the image of Irene Jenner chasing this pest out of her yard. “Yes sir you’re absolutely right, something has to be done. And now just as soon as we finish here, I’m going to take a drive out there and set things straight, don’t you worry.”
“You had better arrest her. For attempted murder! He stared with beady eyes as he wiped his hand across his mouth, and gave another tug on the brim of his hat. “I could have been killed by the crazy old coot. I want her arrested!”
As I looked at him bouncing around in front of my desk, it came to me what he reminded me of: a little gray squirrel dashing around in a frenzy. And I had had just about enough of this squirrel.
“Well now, supposing I could arrest her for attempted murder, and I’m not saying that I could, you understand. You did say, didn’t you, that there was no one else present during this, uh, incident?” He paused for a moment, then nodded ever so slightly. “Right so there aren’t any witnesses. Then supposing I make an arrest. You’d have to stay here in town, give a deposition, be available during a period of investigation, and be present for the trial, so as to testify to the alleged course of events.” I allowed that to sink in for a moment, then went on. “I mean I don’t see how the district attorney could make much of a case with the only witness off in, where was it you said you’re from?”
“Philadelphia.”
He leaned forward to check that I was writing this down, so I took my time forming the letters, before returning my attention to him. “Right. Philadelphia excuse me, you did state that prior. The D.A., he’d have to keep his star witness right here, you understand. He’s not the kind of man to take chances with such a serious charge. And since there’s really no proof, you understand that your testimony is all he’d have. So you see you might want to consider that, being as you don’t look like a man with a lot of time on his hands.” At this he shot me another narrow-eyed look. “If you don’t mind my saying.”
He looked around the room, jingling his keys and rocking from heel to toe. “Now the important thing is,” I continued, as I came around the desk and placed a hand on his shoulder, “between you and me. The important thing is that you weren’t hurt. Now I can see that your nerves have been rattled, and for that I am sorry. But I believe we have ascertained that you are healthy and well enough to resume your journey. Before this takes up any more of your time, I think you should take the opportunity to continue on your way. That would be my recommendation, though of course it’s up to you. I can recommend one of several fine local motels if you prefer to spend more time here with us in town.” I had in the course of this walked the fellow right up to the door of the office, so it would be real easy for him. He took his cue, mumbling and shoving the sadly disfigured hat onto his head as he left.
After lunch I drove out to Irene’s house at the edge of town, where the state highway exits onto the county road. As I pulled up in front of her neat white house, I saw a movement in the front window. I stopped to pick up the hand-painted, “Apples for Sale,” sign that usually hung on the gate, and was now lying in the grass. The yard was well-tended and other than the sign I now held, nothing appeared amiss. I paused for a moment to admire the lush apple tree standing in the corner of the yard. We looked forward to Irene’s apple pies every year. It was a mystery how she grew such fine apples year after year; I reckoned she had a good soil mix and watering program. I stepped up onto the front porch and knocked. “Mrs. Jenner, it’s Will, Sheriff Wright.” I waited for a response from within. I knew she’d seen me pull up. “I’d like to talk with you. Irene, please open the door.” She opened the door suddenly, revealing, as I had guessed, that she’d been standing directly on the other side of it. “May I come in?” I could see from the mischievous glint in her faded blue eyes, like a child caught with candy, that the squirrel’s story was true. I knew before I spied the shotgun standing in the corner by the pantry, before looking back out in the yard and noticing for the first time, the uneven earth beneath the apple tree.
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Carrie Kartman is a writer, actor, and educator, with an MFA from San Francisco State University, where she taught in the Creative Writing Department. Her writing has been published in Everyday Fiction, CafeLit, The Crone’s Words, Gambles and Balances, Wingless Dreamer, The San Francisco Review, Curves on a Sidewalk Street, Using Our Words, Twins Magazine, and CitySports Magazine. Her plays have been seen on stage in the S.F. Bay Area and Michigan.