Spencerville

alcove where she sat at the table. “Oh… there you are. Don’t smell no coffee.”
    “I guess not, if you’re smelling your fingers.”
    There was no reply.
    Annie said, “Turn on the light.”
    Cliff went back to the door, found the switch, and the kitchen fluorescents flickered on. He said, “You got a problem, lady?”
    “No, sir, you have the problem.”
    “I ain’t got no problem.”
    “Where were you?”
    “Cut the shit and put on the coffee.” He walked a few steps toward the hallway.
    Annie raised the shotgun from her lap and laid it on the table, pointed toward him. “Stop. Back up.”
    Cliff stared at the gun, then said softly, “Take your hand away from the trigger.”
    “Where were you tonight?”
    “On the job. On the goddamn job, tryin’ to earn a goddamn livin’, which is more than you do.”
    “I’m not allowed to get a paying job. I have to do volunteer work at the hospital thrift shop down the street from the
police
station where you can keep an eye on me.
Remember?
”
    “You hand me that shotgun, and we’ll just forget this happened.” He took a tentative step toward her and reached out with his hand.
    Annie stood and raised the gun to her shoulder, cocking both hammers.
    The loud metallic clicks caused Cliff to back up into the door. “Hey! Hey!” He put his hands to his front in a protective gesture. “Now sweetheart… that’s… that’s dangerous. That’s a hair trigger… you breathe and that’s gonna go off… you point that away—”
    “Shut up. Where were you tonight?”
    He took a deep breath and controlled his voice. “I told you. Cars stuck and stalled, bridge over Hoop’s Creek is out, panicky old widows callin’ all night—”
    “Liar.”
    “Look… look at these wet clothes… see the mud on my shoes…? I was helpin’ people all night. Now, come on, honey, you just got yourself all worked up.”
    Annie glanced at his wet cuffs and shoes and wondered if he was telling the truth this time.
    Cliff went on in a soothing tone, using every term of endearment he could think of. “Now, sweetheart, darlin’, that thing’s gonna go off, baby, and I ain’t done nothin’, sugar…”
    Annie saw that he was truly frightened, but oddly, she wasn’t enjoying this reversal of roles. In fact, she didn’t want him to beg; she just wanted him dead. But she couldn’t just kill him in cold blood. The shotgun was getting heavy. She said to him, “Go for your gun, Cliff.”
    He stopped speaking and stared at her.
    “Go on. Do you want people to know you died with your gun in your holster?”
    Cliff took a shallow breath, and his tongue flicked across his dry lips. “Annie…”
    “Coward! Coward! Coward!”
    A clap of thunder exploded close by, startling Cliff Baxter, who jumped, then went for his gun.
    Annie fired both barrels, and the recoil knocked her back against the wall.
    The deafening blasts died away but still echoed in her ears. Annie dropped the shotgun. The room was filled with the acrid smell of gunpowder, and plaster dust floated down from the gaping hole in the ceiling above where Cliff lay on the floor.
    Cliff Baxter got up slowly, on one knee, knocking chunks of plaster and wood lathing off his head and shoulders. Annie saw that he’d wet his pants.
    He checked to see that his pistol was in his holster, then glanced up at the ceiling. Still brushing himself off, he stood and walked toward her. She noticed he was trembling, and she wondered what was going to happen next, but she didn’t much care.
    He walked right past her, picked up the wall phone, and dialed. “Yeah, Blake, it’s me.” He cleared his throat and tried to steady his voice. “Yeah, had a little accident cleaning a gun. If you get any calls from the neighbors, you explain… Yeah, everything’s fine. See ya.” He hung up and turned to Annie. “Well, now.”
    She had no trouble looking him right in the eye, but she noticed he had trouble maintaining eye contact. Also, she thought his order of priorities was interesting: control and contain the situation so as to protect himself, his image, his job. She had no delusions that he was protecting her from the wrath of the law. But that’s what he’d say.
    As if on cue, he said, “You tried to kill me. I could arrest you.”
    “Actually, I fired over your head and you know it. But go ahead and take me to jail.”
    “You bitch. You—” He made a threatening move toward her, and his face reddened, but Annie stood