'Of course.'
'Well, I wasn't. That fat sonofabitch knows how to bide his time. But he won't bide it much longer. I'm almost positive it's going to happen tomorrow - later today, I mean. If, that is, you can't put a stop to it by threatening to air whatever dirt your husband dug up.'
'What do you think they're going to arrest you for?'
'No idea, but it won't be shoplifting. And once I'm in jail, I think I might have an accident. I saw plenty of accidents like that in Iraq.'
'That's crazy' But it had the horrid plausibility she had sometimes experienced in nightmares.
'Think about it, Brenda. Rennie has something to cover up, he needs a scapegoat, and the new Police Chief is in his pocket. The stars are in alignment.'
'I was planning to go see him anyway,' Brenda said. 'And I was going to take Julia with me, for safety's sake.'
'Don't take Julia,' he said, 'but don't go alone.'
'You don't actually think he'd - '
'I don't know what he'd do, how far he'd go. Who do you trust besides Julia?'
She flashed back to that afternoon, the fires almost out, standing beside Little Bitch Road, feeling good in spite of her grief because she was flush with endorphins. Romeo Burpee telling her she ought to at least stand for Fire Chief.
'Rommie Burpee,' she said.
'Okay, then he's the one.'
'Do I tell him what Howie had on - '
'No,' Barbie said. 'He's just your insurance policy. And here's another one: lock up your husband's laptop.'
'Okay... but if I lock up the laptop and leave the printout with Julia, what am I going to show Jim? I guess I could print a second copy - '
'No. One of those floating around is enough. For now, at least. Putting the fear of God into him is one thing. Freaking him out would make him too unpredictable. Brenda, do you believe he's dirty?'
She did not hesitate. 'With all my heart.' Because Howie believed it - that's good enough for me.
'And you remember what's in the file?'
'Not the exact figures and the names of all the banks they used, but enough."
'Then he'll believe you,' Barbie said. 'With or without a second copy of the paperwork, he'll believe you.'
Brenda put the VADER file in a manila envelope. On the front she printed Julia's name. She put the envelope on the kitchen table, then went into Howie's study and locked his laptop in the safe. The safe was small and she had to turn the Mac on its side, but in the end it just fit. She finished by giving the combination dial not just one but two spins, as per her dead husband's instructions. As she did, the lights went out. For a moment some primitive part of her was certain she had blown them just by giving the dial that extra spin.
Then she realized that the generator out back had died.
Wheri Junior came in at five minutes past six on Tuesday morning, his pale cheeks stubbly, his hair standing up in haystacks, Big Jim was sitting at the kitchen table in a white bathrobe the approximate size of a clipper ship's mainsail. He was drinking a Coke.
Junior nodded at it. 'A good day starts with a good breakfast.'
Big Jim raised the can, took a swallow, and set it down. 'There's no coffee. Well, there is, but there's no electricity. The generator's out of LP. Grab yourself a pop, why don't you? They're still fairly cold, and you look like you could use it.'
Junior opened the fridge and peered into its dark interior. 'Am I supposed to believe you couldn't score some bottled gas anytime you wanted it?'
Big Jim started a little at that, then relaxed. It was a reasonable question, and didn't mean Junior knew anything. The guilty man flees wherel none pursueth, Big Jim reminded himself.
'Let's just say it might not be politic at this point in time.'
'Uh-huh.'
Junior closed the refrigerator door and sat down on the other side of the table. He looked at his old man with a certain hollow amusement (which Big Jim mistook for affection).
The family that slays together stays together, Junior thought. At least for the time being. As long as it's...
'Politic,' he said.
Big Jim nodded and studied his son, who was supplementing his darly-morning beverage with a Big Jerk beefstick.
He did not ask Where have you been? He did not ask Wliat's wrong with you?, although it was obvious, in the unforgiving first light that flooded the kitchen, that something was. But he did have a question.
'There are bodies. Plural. Is that right?'
'Yes.'Junior took a big bite of his beefstick and washed it down with Coke. The kitchen was weirdly silent without the hum of the fridge and the burble of the Mr Coffee.
'And all these bodies can be laid at Mr Barbara's door?'
'Yes. All.' Another chomp. Another swallow. Junior looking at him steadily, rubbing his left temple as he did so.
'Can you plausibly discover those bodies around noon today?'
'No prob.'
'And the evidence against our Mr Barbara, of course.'
'Yes.'Junior smiled. 'It's good evidence.'
'Don't report to the police station this morning, son.'
'I better,'Junior said. 'It might look funny if I don't. Besides, I'm not tired. I slept with...' He shook his head. 'I slept, leave it at that.'
Big Jim also did not ask Who did you sleep with? He had other concerns than whom his son might be diddling; he was just glad the boy hadn't been among the fellows who'd done their business with that nasty piece of trailer trash out on Motton Road. Doing business with that sort of girl was a good way to catch something and get sick.
He's already sick, a voice in Big Jim's head whispered. It might have been the fading voice of his wife. Just look at him.
That voice was probably right, but this morning he had greater concerns than Junior Rennie's eating disorder, or whatever it was.
'I didn't say go to bed. I want you on motor patrol, and I want you to do a job for me. Just stay away from Food City while you're doing it. There's going to be trouble there, I think.' Junior's eyes livened up. 'What kind of trouble?'