Spencerville

that old word, and these vibrations tell me that people have picked up on something, sort of like they’re intercepting these signals that go between this farm and Williams Street,” Keith smiled. “Blow that smoke away, Jeffrey. I’m sounding like you.”
    Gail said, “No, I understand. I mean, even we figured something was up. Who else, besides Baxter?”
    “Oh, just people. Pastors, and somebody’s sister, and nice elderly ladies. I’m probably paranoid, but I’m concerned that Baxter’s going to get onto something concrete. I have to ask you guys not to say or do anything that could arouse suspicion. Lay low yourselves until the weekend. Okay?”
    “Done.”
    “If the plan falls apart, I may need you.”
    “We’re here.”
    “I appreciate it. Hey, Jeffrey, who would have thought we’d be having dinner together again?”
    Jeffrey took a toke and looked at him. “Time has healed a lot of those wounds, Keith. I’m glad we lived long enough to get smart.”
    Gail said, “If this is a prelude to male bonding, I’ll go out on the porch.”
    Jeffrey said to Keith, “She feels threatened. That’s why you need a woman, Keith, to balance out the dynamics of our interlocking relationships, and… whatever. Hey, where are you two going to go? Can we join you for dinner someplace?”
    “Sure. I’ll let you know.”
    Gail said, “We’re going to miss you, Keith. We don’t have many friends here.”
    “Maybe you will after you get rid of Police Chief Baxter.”
    “I don’t think so. But perhaps. Will you come back here someday?”
    “I’d like to. Depends on what happens with Baxter.”
    “Yeah,” Jeffrey agreed, “I wouldn’t advise you to look for a house on Williams Street for a while.” He laughed. “Hey, I’d love to see his fucking face when he comes home and finds a fuck-you note on the refrigerator.” Jeffrey got the giggles and slapped the table a few times.
    Keith stood. “Let’s sit on the porch. The maid will clear.”
    They sat on the porch and watched the sun go down. No one spoke for a long time, then Gail said, “What an amazing thing, Keith.”
    “What?”
    “Love, I mean, through college, and turmoil, and war, and decades, and distance, and everything that life throws at you. If I were sentimental, I’d cry.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
    O n Thursday morning, Keith woke up not feeling particularly well and didn’t know why. By stages, he remembered the Porters being over for dinner, then recalled breaking out the hard liquor and realized why he had a headache and recalled what they had been celebrating.
    He got out of bed and opened the window, feeling the cool air rush in. It looked like another sunny day, a good day for the corn, but they could use one more good rain before the harvest.
    He walked down the hall in his underwear toward the bathroom and bumped into Jeffrey, also in his underwear. Jeffrey said, “I’m not well.”
    “You slept here?”
    “No, I came back in my underwear to get the Tupperware containers.”
    “Where’s Gail?”
    “She went to get us breakfast. You want to use the bathroom?”
    “No, go ahead.” Keith got his robe and went down the stairs into the kitchen. He washed his face in the sink, found aspirin in the cupboard and took two, then put on a pot of coffee.
    A car pulled around to the back door, and Gail came in, carrying a grocery bag. “How are you feeling?”
    “Okay.” He sat at the kitchen table, and Gail unpacked a bottle of orange juice and three corn muffins.
    She said, “A police car followed me from here all the way to town.”
    Keith nodded. He said, “Now they know there’s a connection between us. You’re on the list.”
    “Hey, I was on the list before you got here.” She sat down and poured a glass of juice for each of them.
    Keith sipped his juice. He asked, “Did they pull you over?”
    “No, I pulled them over. I got out of my car, identified myself as a councilwoman, and told them to fuck off or I’d have their badges.”
    “You’ve become very establishment, Gail. You’re supposed to scream about your civil rights.”
    “They wouldn’t know what the hell I was talking about. The only thing that scares them is the thought of losing their guns and their badges.”
    “Yeah, these cops turned bad. They have a bad boss.”
    She stayed quiet a minute, then asked him, “Were you serious about killing Baxter?”
    “No.”
    She looked at him awhile, then said, “I was scared out there on the