The Sound of Broken Ribs(35)

“Okay,” Belinda said as she followed Tony out onto the porch.

The afternoon air was laced with the scent of pine and lilac; was pleasantly warm, but nowhere near hot. The door to Tony’s Ford creaked and squeaked as he yanked it open. Tony hopped into his truck, and a second later, the engine grumbled to life. Belinda noticed for the first time the gun rack and rifle hanging from his rear window. She wondered if this was the same gun he’d used to shoot the two men on Hunter’s Point. Come to think of it, Belinda couldn’t remember what Carl had said about what they did with the dead men’s bodies. Had he said? She didn’t think so. She also couldn’t believe that her brother had used a rifle to kill the men. Likely he’d used a handgun of some sort.

She went back inside and listened to Ann Coulter bitch about president Obama and his insistence on “stealing our right to defend ourselves” by suggesting stricter gun control laws. While Belinda was of the opinion that President Barack Hussein Obama was the worst president in U.S. history, she despised Coulter even more. The woman was an obvious racist xenophobe nut job while Obama was clearly only inept. FOX News cut to a live feed of Obama’s speech concerning the latest mass shooting in Orlando and Belinda turned the television off.

*

Sheriff Jenna Wales listened to the radio as her favorite president of all time suggested that something must be done about gun violence in America. She wasn’t stupid enough to think that guns could be banned outright, neither did she believe that nothing could be done about the insane rise in frequency of mass shootings in America. The topic was a proverbial slippery slope. One step too far in the wrong direction and you were looking at trouble: restrict the ownership of guns too much and conservatives might revolt; do nothing about gun violence and liberals everywhere would take to their keyboards and complain on Facebook. Jenna felt that this was the problem with America. Liberals were too lazy to effect change, and Conservatives were too stubborn to allow Liberals’ meager attempt at change to pass. So America stayed the same. And for the worst.

Jenna pulled onto the gravel drive that led to Anthony Marchesini’s property just as Marchesini was pulling up to the road. She stopped alongside his truck and rolled down her window. He did the same.

Before she spoke, she read his face. He didn’t seem surprised to see her, neither did he seem to be expecting her. He seemed overall indifferent.

“Hello, Anthony.” She didn’t feel she knew him well enough to call him Tony, nor did she want to know him that well. The guy kept to himself these days, but there had been a time when he was the terror of the community. Anytime there had been a bar fight or public disturbance call, Jenna could count on Anthony Marchesini being involved.

He hitched his chin at her.

She pointed at the gun in the rack behind his head. “Your permit up to date?”

“Yeah.” He spat out of his window and between the cars. “What are you doin’ out here, Sheriff?”

“Have you seen your sister?”

“Yep,” he said without a second’s hesitation. “She’s up to the house. Her retard hubby ran off on her. She’s staying with me for a while.”

“Oh, really. Mind if I go on up and talk to her?”

He shrugged. “Don’t give a shit what you do.”

“Where’re you heading?”

“Into town. Gotta buy some paint for the barn. It’s that time of year again.”

“All right. You behave yourself.”

Marchesini laughed. Jenna didn’t think she’d ever seen the guy so much as smile.

“Will do, lady. Have a good one.” And with that, Marchesini made a left, heading in the direction of town.

Jenna rolled her cruiser down the drive, listening to the crunch of the gravel under her tires.

*

The phone in the kitchen rang. Belinda hopped off the couch to answer it.

“You got company,” Tony said in lieu of a greeting. “Sheriff’s here. I told her Dan left you. I suggest you follow the plan and tell her that he took your car.”

Belinda’s heart sped up to the point she worried it might quit on her. “What if she wants to look in the barn?”

“She won’t. Even if she does—which she won’t—she can’t search it without a warrant. And by the time she gets a warrant, I’ll have gotten rid of the car. Even if I have to bury the sumbitch.”

Belinda could hear the approaching cruiser outside now, crunching gravel as it came.

“What if she asks where Dan’s car is?”

“Tell her you got evicted and Dan got his car repoed. She can check on the eviction with her deputy—the one who served you. If she gets that far in the discussion.”

Belinda swallowed a lump the size of her fist. “What do you mean ‘if she gets that far’?”

“She’s going to ask you about your car. You’ll say Dan took it. She’ll say, ‘Oh, okay’ and she’ll fucking leave. Now get off the phone and meet her on the porch so as it don’t look like you’re hiding. Bye.”

He disconnected the call at the same time Belinda heard the door on the sheriff’s cruiser slam shut.

*

Jenna swung out of the car and slammed the door behind her a bit harder than she’d meant to. She headed for the porch stairs as Belinda Walsh stepped through the front door looking like warmed over shit.