“Oh, hold on a minute,” William said. “Hold on. Let me tell you something.”
“I’m making the call,” David said. “It’s a Buick Dynaflow he was driving.”
“I know the car. I know the boy who drove it. His name is Toby Knox. He’s not so bad. He works at the drive-in movie in Truro, or did last I heard, but he’s from Parrsboro here. Toby’s one of those kids you might first theorize was knocked on the head, maybe playing hockey, and never quite recovered. But you’d be wrong. He’s got native intelligence. Though he keeps a good secret of it. Anyway, he’s the one broke into the house. What puzzles me, Toby’d likely have known I was in the house, because I’m so seldom not in it. Plus, there were a few lights on.”
“William, what does it matter? He broke in. A report has to be filed.”
“I’m not filing any goddamn report.”
William went back into the house; David walked back to the pond. The swans were huddled out of the water. Without visible cue, they stood in unison and, like a weary encampment of white-muslin-clad infantry given marching orders by the wind, moved off along the bank into the cattails, out of view. Yet a few moments later they seemed to pick up the sound of the returning car before David did; the cattails rustled as the swans emerged and bellied out onto the water, their safest haven.
“Alert the Mounties,” David said. “The Duke of Earl’s back.”
He walked to the main house again. The car door opened, a figure stepped out, slammed shut the door. David saw a match flare, caught a glimpse of the young man’s face, slicked-backhair, a Hawaiian shirt. The ember of a cigarette like a firefly impaled to the dark. The man took a few steps, then stopped. “I’m the one Mr. Field shot at,” he said.
“Toby Knox, I’m telephoning to get you arrested.”
“Seems only right.”
“It is right.”
“Give me a minute to apologize to Mr. Field first. Please.”
“You tried to break in and you want me to let you in?”
“You’re the temporary caretaker, right? David? David, isn’t it?”
“That’s right.”
“Naomi Bloor’s my next-door neighbor. See, just now I told you where I live. Mr. Field’s known me all my life. I’ve known Maggie my whole life too. I’m giving myself up.”
“Good for you.”
David went up on the porch and opened the door and stepped inside. He heard an aria on the phonograph; he didn’t know the language. He went to William’s room. William lay on the bed with his eyes closed. David knocked on the open door and said, “Toby Knox is outside. He wants to talk with you.”
William opened his eyes. “Let him in,” he said.
“I’m right here already,” Toby said, brushing past David. Toby sat on the end of the bed. “Fuck me, I’m sorry, Mr. Field. Oh, sorry about my language, too.”
“Toby, what got into you?”
William switched on the bedside lamp. David got a good clear look at the criminal. Toby Knox was about five feet ten; the word “gaunt” might come first to mind, but that finally best applied to his face, because his arms were solid, biceps stretching the short sleeves of the Hawaiian shirt, with its big blooming white hibiscus on a turquoise background, tucked in. Faded blue jeans, thick belt with a longhorn steer’s head on the buckle. His black hair, almost laughably to David’s mind, was swept back in a classic “duck’s ass.” Toby also sported a wisp of a mustache and goatee — halfhearted attempts, more negligence than purpose. He had handsome features. Three times in quick succession, a twitch at the edge of his mouth betrayed his nervousness. He stared at the floor.
“Look at you, Tobias,” William said. “The time you spent in London with your cousin last year turned you into a thug of some sort. You used to have a nice look about you. Do you still even admit you’re from Parrsboro? You turned into James Dean. The American movie star who always whined and complained, life’s such a bad deal.”
“I’m apologizing to you, Mr. Field. Before they take me to jail.”
“You like the idea of being dragged off in handcuffs, don’t you?” William sighed. “What’s playing at the drive-in these days?”
Toby’s entire countenance shifted with this change in subject; he straightened right up. “We’ve got a movie called Straight Time,” he said. “It was playing in Halifax some months ago, then it ended up on the drive-in circuit. Since the Starlight’s the only drive-in in Nova Scotia, we got it.”
“What’s it about?” William said.
“Basically, it’s about a guy who can’t stop robbing jewelry stores. He can’t seem to help himself. Or, it’s more like he helps himself to things he shouldn’t, I guess.”
“Daring daylight robberies?”
“Both night and day, I think. I can’t tell you the whole plot, Mr. Field, beginning to end, because I’m occupied at the concession. I miss a lot of the movie.”
“Is that where you got your big idea, Toby, from this movie? The big idea to break into my house?”
“Don’t know.”
“Difficult to feel inspired from your own resources these days? Your most exciting ideas coming from the movies?”
“I don’t know, Mr. Field,” Toby said, looking off at the wall.
“I want to see this movie,” William said. “If you take me to see it — tonight — now — get me in free of charge, I’ll pretend this botched little robbery of yours never took place. Except you’ll have to pay for the window you broke.”
“You’ve got a deal, Mr. Field.”
“Oh, don’t I love a solemn pact,” William said, rubbing his hands together gleefully. He looked at the bedside clock. “It’s eight twenty-five. We have to factor in the drive to Truro. What time’s the movie start?”
“There’s coming attractions and such,” Toby said. “The movie’s supposed to start at nine, but it’s usually late. I don’t run the projector, though.”
“I take it you weren’t on concession duty tonight.”
“Look, Mr. Field. I’m in over my head with some debts, you know? I wasn’t thinking clearly. I was going to grab what I could, try to pawn it down in Halifax.”
“Didn’t you hear my opera? Didn’t you figure me to be home?”
“I thought the record might drown out hearing me. I was only going to take a few items. I didn’t even know what. I didn’t think it through, Mr. Field. I was just driving by.”
“Lame,” David said.
“Would you prefer he’d thought about it ahead of time, David?” William said. “Premeditated robbery of the house of someone’s known him since he was born?”
“That’s not what I meant,” David said.
“Give me five minutes to get ready,” William said. “I need to get out of this goddamned house, Toby, so I guess I should thank you for the opportunity.”
David and Toby went out onto the porch. There was a vast quilt of moonlight-diffused clouds, no stars. “Use ‘Tobias,’ all right?” Toby said.
“What?”
“In your report to the Tecoskys. Naomi said every month you send a report to Izzy and Stefania. Saying how everything is. Saying how the swans are doing. What the tree surgeon did, things like that. So I’m asking, when you tell them about my breaking in, refer to me as Tobias, not Toby. They know me as Tobias.”
“You fucking idiot.”
“I don’t care if you tell Izzy and Stefania. I’m just asking you to use Tobias.”
William appeared on the porch. He wore threadbare brown corduroy trousers, a blue work shirt, bedroom slippers. “Since I’ll stay in the car, I’ve got slippers on,” he said. “Let’s go, Toby. I’ll sit in back. You’re my chauffeur. That car has ashtrays in back, doesn’t it?”
“Including on the pull-down armrest in the middle.”