Spencerville

every object out of place. He got down on the floor and reached under the bed, hoping that Gail had taken him literally and put the rifle there, but he couldn’t feel the carrying case. He looked around the room. In truth, the rifle could be on the floor, and he wouldn’t see it amidst the junk. He went around to the other side and looked under the bed, but aside from the clutter, there wasn’t anything resembling a canvas carrying case.
    A voice said, “Looking for this?”
    Keith straightened up and saw the muzzle of the M-16 rifle resting on the edge of the mattress. Keith stood and said, “Hello, Charlie.”
    Charlie Adair dropped the rifle on the bed and said, “You look like shit.”
    “Thank you. You, too.”
    “Did I hear you assaulting and abusing an officer of the law downstairs?”
    “He was that way when I found him.”
    “That was very clever—getting the Florida story out of him, and you know that’s not where they went. You’re very good in the field. I always thought your real talents were wasted behind a desk.”
    “That’s what I’ve been saying.” Keith had no idea how Charlie Adair knew that Baxter and Annie had not gone to Florida. For that matter, he had no idea how Charlie had wound up in the Porter house.
    Adair looked around the room. “With friends like these, you don’t have to raise pigs.”
    “They’re good people.”
    “They’re left-wing radicals.”
    “Don’t check out my friends, Charlie. I don’t like that.”
    “These are the kinds of friends I have to check out.”
    “No, you don’t.”
    “Actually, they
are
nice people.”
    “How’d you get onto them? Or should I ask?”
    “You shouldn’t. You should tell me.”
    Keith thought a moment, then said, “Telephone records.”
    “Bingo. You haven’t made many calls since you’ve been here, so it was easy. Don’t be impressed.”
    “I’m not.” He asked, “Where are the Porters?”
    “Running errands. Hey, I never saw a man in an Armani suit step out of an iridescent van. Who was that guy?”
    “Chuck. From Toledo Airport.”
    “Ah. Good. He coming back?”
    “No.”
    “You’re without transportation.”
    “I have a police car. Where’s your transport?”
    “I just clicked my heels, and here I am.”
    “Charlie… I already have a headache. What can I do for you?”
    “That’s not the question, Keith. Ask not what you can do for your country, but what your country can do for you.”
    “That’s not how it goes.”
    “Unfortunately, Keith, that’s exactly how it goes in Washington, the big tit of the world. Your country is here to help you.”
    “With no strings attached.”
    “I didn’t say that.”
    “I don’t really have time for this.”
    “A little time with me will save you a lot of time later. Hey, can we get out of this sty? I think I saw a clean spot downstairs.”
    Keith took the rifle off the bed, and, carrying Ward’s gun belt and holster, he followed Charlie into the upstairs hallway, where Charlie picked up the carrying case with the scope and ammunition. It was just like Adair, Keith thought, to materialize out of nowhere, brandishing a rifle that could just as well have been in its case—Charlie Adair was all show, mostly drama and comedy, but one day, for sure, tragedy.
    They came down into the front foyer, and Charlie went over to Kevin Ward on the floor and stuck out his hand. “Hi, I’m Barry Brown from Amway.”
    Keith almost laughed as Ward actually put out his left hand and shook with Charlie.
    Charlie said, “I have some stuff that’ll make that uniform look like new again. I’ll be right back. Stay there.”
    Keith and Charlie went into the kitchen. Charlie washed two glasses in the sink and said to Keith, “There’s fresh tomato juice in the refrigerator.”
    Keith got the pitcher out and poured two glasses. Charlie touched his glass to Keith’s and said, “Good to see you alive.”
    “Good to be alive, not good to see you.”
    “Of course it is.”
    They drank. Charlie smacked his lips. “Not bad. Needs vodka. But maybe you shouldn’t drink. You really look like shit. I guess Chief Baxter got ahold of you.”
    Keith didn’t reply.
    “Let’s go out back where we can talk.”
    They went outside, and Charlie sat in a lawn chair, looking out over the gardens. “Beautiful.”
    Keith remained standing. He said, “Charlie, I’m on a schedule.”
    “Right. Okay, I won’t be too cryptic. Here’s what I know. You got back here from