The pit is where all the orchestra type percussion instruments, like chimes and bells and the tympani Kiah played, are put. Instruments you can't march around with on the field but which are used by the bands in today's performances to enhance the quality of the music. Not that anyone was listening. The crowd sat bored and impassive. Or at least engaged in other diversions. Kids throwing skittles at each other, moms grabbing the arms of their squirming toddlers, dads tuned in to the aforementioned state "big" game. And of course there was the mass of high school kids who were there for nothing more than the social aspect of it all, running around the stands playing grab-ass, dissing on one another, and occasionally getting into a pushing match just out of sight of the chaperoning parent security force that was salted through the stadium. I went down to the refreshment booth and bought some popcorn for Miranda, and splurged on a short skinny single for Miss short skinny single herself, Kathryn. She was pleasantly surprised when I delivered it. I sure did like her sense of humor. And she seemed to be pretty patient with my situation, unlike a certain bionic woman I had met for lunch. Although I kind of like the human parts of Elizabeth, I had to say the artificial parts were not my cup of tea; "D" or otherwise. Now Kathryn, on the other hand....
As kismet would have it, just as that thought passed through my brain she reached out and squeezed my hand. I squeezed back. I turned to look in her eyes and...
Miranda broke through from behind and plopped down between us.
"Hi Dad," she said breathlessly, "Jack and Kiah said to tell you they'll meet us at home after the game." I had sent Miranda to check on the boys when they got back up into the pep band section of the bleachers.
"Thanks Mir," I said ruefully. "Here's your popcorn."
Kathryn put her arm around Miranda's back and gave her a hug. "Your dad is real lucky he has you to help him," she said. "He tells me you're the smartest one of the bunch."
Mir blushed a little. "Um, thanks," she said.
"Did I also tell you she's got an ornery streak?" I said to Kathryn.
"Oh, Dad," said Miranda, and squinched up next to me real tight. I put my arm around her too, and we sat there, the three of us, warm for the first time that evening. Or was it years?
We parted before the game got over. Our team was about four touchdowns ahead and quite frankly, I was tuckered. Mir was asleep as soon as she sat down in the car. It looked like I'd be carrying someone into bed tonight.
"Goodnight Kathryn," I said, "thanks for making my evening special."
"Thank you, Jobe," she said quietly. "You get that little girl home. I'll talk to you next week."
I made sure Kathryn had got in her car and got it started, and then got into my own and drove out of the parking lot. I felt pretty peaceful for the first time in a long time. Maybe I'd sleep a little late tomorrow.
The next morning I slept in till seven o'clock. Ah, the weekend. I know it sounds funny to say that a self-employed person looks forward to the weekend but I do. Just like any ordinary person. It's all about giving your life structure. If I slept in any old day of the week, soon I'd sleep in every day and then soon I just might not get out of bed at all -- till they drug me to the poorhouse. It is amusing though. A guy who can work at his job any time he likes looking forward to the weekend. Kind of like when retired people say they're going on vacation. What does that mean? They're going back to work for a couple of weeks?
I coasted through my morning routine and then whipped up some pancake mix for the kids. I started frying our once a week bacon, and broke some eggs for an omelet. Mir was up by this time and I got her to set the table and put out the syrup and jam and peanut butter. Miranda likes her pancakes with peanut butter and maple syrup. I used to really hate it when she was younger, but now I just make her scrub the plate. I feel a lot better. Soon I had her wake up the boys. They came grumbling into the kitchen with that "you woke me up too early" attitude I've come to know and love.
"Jeez Dad, why'd you have to wake us up so early... it's only nine-thirty!" complained Kiah.
"Because I care about your health and good habits," I said, saccharin sweetly.
To which they replied with a sour look. Nonetheless, they managed to consume a couple of dozen pancakes each while they were busy grousing. As they neared the end of their feeding frenzy (that late night marching takes a lot out of you) I spoke over the chewing and slurping noises.
"Besides," I said, "I wanted you to have a nice meal before I took off."
"Your working on a Saturday?" moaned Miranda, "I thought we were going to go see my old horse?"
"I'll try to be back by early afternoon Mir," I apologized, "and then we can ride Rusty to your heart's content."
Getting rid of the horse we'd leased for her before her mom disappeared was another bitter pill we'd had to swallow. Fortunately the guy we'd formerly leased it from let us ride it every other weekend in exchange for stall duties three times a week. Today was both a riding and a crap-shoveling day. Yahoo.
I left the dishes for the boys, got in my car and headed over to the "Bungalow." I had a feeling this was the gay couple Knudson was bent on sensationalizing. Sure enough, crime scene tape surrounded the perimeter of the yard. It seemed so incongruous to see the little porcelain yard chipmunks and blooming purple kale peeking out through the sober strips of flapping yellow plastic.
I arrived just as a second police car drove up. Out stepped Officer Greg.
"Howdy, Officer," I called, "What brings you to this neck of the woods?"
"A little piece of paper we call a warrant for arrest," joked Greg.
"No way," I almost yelled, "On what charge?"
"As a material witness," Greg said. "And then we're going to impound the house."
I gave him my best dead pan look. "You're gonna put it up on jacks and take it down to the sheriff's office?"
"You now what I mean, Jobe. No one can get in or out until we're done with the place, including Fred Costner."
"Why the sudden change?" I queried. "I though you'd written him off month's ago."
"I can't say anything to that."
"What do you mean you can't say?" I pressed.
"My boss told me to keep you away from this one."
"Why? His buddy Knudson think I'll mess up his little gay bashing scenario?"
"I have no idea. I'm just paid to follow orders."
"You'da made a great guard at Buchenwald, Greg. How about you let me have one last talk with Fred before you cart him off?"
"Nothing doing, Carson, you shoulda been here before we put the tape up an hour ago. Now no one but county people are allowed on the premises. No one. Not even smarty pants Carson." That Buchenwald cut must have just sunk in.
"You're beginning to sound like old Nellie himself, Greg, When are you getting jackboots?"
Just then another officer came out of the house, leading poor Fred by a chain, which was attached to his nylon zip cuffs. This case was all about modern packaging, I thought. But it still dealt with the same old human weaknesses inside.
"Mr. Carson!" Fred shouted, "You have to help me!"
"I'd like to Fred," I called out.
"Get my lawyer, Steve Henderson; he'll know what to do."
"Why the new interest in you?" I called back.
"They found some blood in my well."
"Blood in your well?" I said wonderingly.
"The collection well of my draining rack..."
"Draining ra...?
"On my dehydrator, they found some blood in the...." the rest was cut off as the officer put his hand on Fred's head, pushed it down, and shoved him none too gently into the car. "Shut up, faggot," he sneered.
I looked at Greg. "Nice screening in the hiring office at your department." I said.
"Yep," he said, and shook his head in disgust.
"So what's the big deal?" I asked. I thought I'd try to pry at least one small fact loose. "You'd expect a little animal blood in a draining table. That's what it's supposed to be draining, right?"
"They found more than animal blood, Carson. That's why I'm here. The lab says some of it was human."
