Dad’s lawyer said he would be over immediately, & not to speak any further to the police above all not to volunteer any information however innocent nor allow them any entry, & I told him O.K., & hung up. How much time did I have! When would they break in! First thing I did was flush NO-NAME’s gold tooth down the toilet, out of my pocket & gone forever. & the next, grabbing the formaldehyde bottle out of the locker & going next-door into the kitchen saying to two of the tenants waiting for a tea kettle to boil I was going to fumigate the kitchen, sorry they would have to step out for a few minutes for safety’s sake but the kettle could remain on the stove etc. So they went out, it was Akhil & a young Egyptian chemistry student, & I dumped BIG GUY into the kitchen sink & with a knife stabbed & cut & forced it into the garbage disposal & set the disposal going with a high grinding roar. & the formaldehyde poured down the drain, making my eyes sting & I was close to puking, & shook Dutch Cleanser into the sink & scrubbed with a steel wool pad, & after that Dra
no down the disposal, & into the quart bottle too, to counteract the powerful stink of the chemical, & I believe it did. & another time running the disposal, grinding up just chunks of hand soap & it was all smooth & clean & smelled of something clean. & the tea kettle was boiling & singing, so I took it off the heat, & called Akhil & his friend back, & said the fumigation was over, & I did not think they were in any danger now. Back in my room then (I could see the cops still in the driveway—FUCKERS! Wanted to yell out the window at them FUCKERS! HARASSING me & SCREWING UP my life!) tearing up the map of SQUIRREL’s bike route & the Polaroids & burnt them in my bathroom sink & washed the ashes down the drain & again scrubbed with steel wool. & downstairs in the old cellar dragged the dinette out of the cistern, & into the new cellar. Set a plastic laundry basket on it. & giant box of Tide. The ice pick & knives I brought up into the kitchen & tossed in a drawer with such utensils. & the sharp little silver pick Q__ P__ had pocketed from Dr. Fish’s office went into my medicine cabinet with toothbrush, flossing string etc., for this was the logical place & I did not wish to lose such a valuable instrument. For there were other specimens awaiting I did not doubt, & I would not be harassed & intimidated by those fuckers into surrendering my rights. The bandages, gauze, etc. went into a supply closet in the pantry, & the food & Evian water. The mirror I dragged into the new cellar & propped in a corner with some old furniture. In the mirror Q__ P__ oily-faced & sullen & his hairline God-damn receding for sure, light winking off his glasses. A responsible man makes his own luck. But I was pissed.
A relief, Mom & Dad are up north. When they learn of this humiliation, it will be all over.
Dad’s lawyer arrived, & not long after another squad car & the fuckers had a search warrant & could not be stopped. Two began with the Dodge Ram—I had no choice but to hand over the keys—& the rest with the house. & the lawyer stipulated that the search must be confined to certain areas only for this was a rental property & the rooms of the individual tenants are private & must not be ravaged by a search. & so they searched the CARETAKER’s quarters of course, making a mess, & all of the cellar & the attic, & the downstairs rooms, closets, etc. & FOUND NOTHING. FOR THERE WAS NOTHING TO FIND.
That day too I was questioned about the missing boy whose name was new & unknown to me—James, or “Jamie,” Waldron. Dad’s lawyer was present of course, so my rights were protected. Because Q__ P__ knew nothing about the boy, & could only repeat & repeat a few facts. That I had done yard work at Grandma’s, from 5 P.M. until 7 P.M. & had afterward driven to Summit Park hoping to cool off & had had something to eat at McDonald’s close by & then—for it had come to me in a brainstorm, of course they would check the odometer in the new Dodge Ram & note the mileage—I had driven along the lake, & in the University Heights area, for a long time, hoping to get cool. By this time Dad’s lawyer had contacted Grandma, & Mrs. Thatch, to corroborate that I had been at Grandma’s for the hours stated, & both were adamant that this was so. Grandma said her grandson was the kindest & most thoughtful young man on earth, he visited her often & did favors not only for her but for her friends. & since the time of the boy’s abduction had been fixed between 6 P.M. when he left his place of employment & 6:40 P.M. when his bicycle was discovered abandoned in an alley a mile from his home, it could not be that Q__ P__ was in any way involved.
There was the mystery, too, of the baby chicks in the alley. No one living nearby could identify or claim them. No one had ever seen baby chicks in such a place before. Nor were there any grown hens anywhere in the neighborhood. The detective spoke quizzically of this fact, THIRTY-SIX BABY CHICKS loose & picking in the dirt of the alley, & the missing boy’s expensive bicycle parked nearby with its kickstand down. Which suggested that he was not snatched from the bicycle, but accompanied his abductor, or whoever it was, willingly. What connection could there be between the missing boy & the baby chicks! Or maybe there was no connection, at all? Q__ P__ sat silent & frowning & had nothing to say, for he had no idea. The lawyer said skeptically, Maybe the boy was playing a joke, & isn’t missing. Some kind of fraternity prank.
The detective in suit & tie sucked at his lip & said, If it is, it isn’t very funny. Is it?
The cops were finished with their search upstairs & down, & went out. It was 12:40 P.M. I had not eaten anything since before 6 A.M., Froot Loops washed down with shitty-warm Evian water driving home on Route 31 from the Manistee Forest. From the unnamed narrow & deep & fast-flowing river where my fucked-up ZOMBIE SQUIRREL lay at the bottom naked & his throat slashed entering the water so the water bore the blood away into such an infinity it could never be traced, & his skinny body weighed down with burlap & rocks & would never rise except when the bones fall away from one another, released of flesh & identity. There would be the skull & the teeth of the skull they say you can identify—BUT COULD A SKULL FLOAT? I don’t think a skull could float, being too heavy.
The sponge-gag, the strips of tape around his jaws I had left in place. In the end, I worked fast.
The detective said thanks & goodbye for now & did not seem sarcastic but only tired. & out in the driveway I saw him talking with one of the younger men, in uniform. & I interrupted the lawyer who was speaking of suing for harassment if more of this ensued, & said, “Maybe—maybe I could t-talk to them, after all.”
“Excuse me?”
“The police. Maybe I could talk to them, after all.” I was swallowing hard, my throat so dry. I did not make EYE CONTACT with Dad’s lawyer. “Just for a m-minute, by myself?”
The lawyer was looking at Q__ P__ like he had not seen me before. & did not like what he saw. His head was the shape of a light bulb & pale & almost hairless, the hairs in thin crimped strips. He was Dad’s age & I believe a friend of Dad’s from some other time when they were all young. He said, “Are you out of your mind? Absolutely not.”