Did Plaster know too much or not enough to be frightened? He parked his car on the canal bank next to the orchard surrounding the old farm house and radioed in to Winnie at the station. "You shouldn't be out there," she told him. She would know. Born and raised in Brenlee. "I won't be long." Plaster thought her concern was over the time he would lose, that he wouldn't be ... +more+
"Is Gabriel really dead?" "I'm afraid so." "Have you seen him?" "No." "Then you don't know for sure." "Sick today, huh?" "No. Not really." "Didn't go to school, though." "Am I in trouble?" "No." "It's against the law to skip school." "Not today." "Why?" Plaster didn't answer. He didn't make a sound. "Because of Gabriel. Right?" "Yep." "Did they find his body?" "Yes. Yes, they did." The tarp shifted and then something metal under it. Mac Taylor had moved away, further under the workbench. Neither of them spoke ... +more+
Dennis Plaster waited behind his desk, watching the large round clock in the small squad room tick off his 28.3 cents a minute. In the first half hour he went through all the questionnaires again. He counted 31 references to young Mac Taylor, Gabriel Velasquez's best friend. Forty references to Gabriel as a 'nice' kid or person. Two 'cutes.' 40 'really Mexicans.' 35 'small,' 'little,' or otherwise diminutive. Only one ... +more+
Perry Foltz had stretched out on the narrow stainless steel bench in the corner of the cell. They had taken his shitkickers from him and his hat. His dirty white socks had holes in the heels. A hat-shaped impression kept his hair from looking entirely unruly. He hummed a tune that didn't quite hang together. Officer Plaster approached the holding cell of the Brenlee city police station quietly, the last smile ... +more+
Plaster knew her game. He'd been cast as the second-class servant type for too much of his life to miss the signs. He used to struggle with it. Tell them where he'd been accepted to college. Tell them his SAT score. Mention his two years of international volunteer work overseas. Whatever white lie would get them to pry open that second (almost transparent) eyelid of condescension and really see him ... +more+
Charlie only made it back up to the the top of the hill before he had to pull over. He returned to the small parking lot of the old metal workshop. I'm not equipped for this. I can't do it Fran. Not kids. Not all these kids. He felt himself hyperventilating and lost track of the number of tears in the hot-faced embarrassment of crying in someplace almost public. He bent his ... +more+
Charlie Oliveri rubbed his bald head. He had only slept three hours since yesterday morning. He sat in his '95 Honda Civic at the top of the steep hill running down to the river and the poorest housing in Brenlee. He had parked in the small parking lot of an abandoned workshop made of corrugated aluminum siding. Since moving to Brenlee, he had written stories about ten different businesses opening ... +more+
Instead of another student, Andrea Lawson stood in the doorway. "That's it for the kids, Dennis. Did you want to talk to me, too?" As the boy's teacher, she had taken it on herself to manage the flow of kids for Plaster after he sent Marti back to the office. "Well... you're not on the list." Andrea Lawson had grown up with, Joanne, Plaster's girlfriend and they still called one ... +more+
She had tiny fingernails painted cotton candy pink at the ends of tiny hands. She was skinny with dirty blonde hair, and braces that looked new and painful. "You should talk to Mac. He liked Gabriel. They sat by each other."*
Plaster had been to the boy's house and the boy remembered him - his parents had a domestic disturbance habit that came naturally with all their others. Big for... +more+
"Well, where is he?" "I don't know exactly, Dennis." "He must have radioed in." "He did. From the Sneed farm around seven. Then again about ten minutes ago." "Does he realize school has started?" "Yes, I'm sure he does." "Well, this is his deal." "He said you could handle it. Just follow the questionnaire." "The questionnaire?" "Yes, the questionnaire." "What questionnaire?" "The one he left on your desk this morning. I typed it up. He made a hundred copies last ... +more+