V Is for Vengeance

tomorrow, just the two of us?”
    “I don’t drink.”
    “You had wine with dinner. We should talk.”
    “About what?”
    “How you ended up married to a bum.”
    “He’s not a bum.”
    “Yes, he is. You just haven’t seen it yet. I know his type. He looks good on the surface, but underneath, he’s a royal shit.”
    Nora felt the heat rise in her cheeks. “My friend says you’re Mafia.”
    He smiled. “Flattering, but false. I’m connected in other ways.”
    “You’re a thug.”
    He smiled. “Now you’ve got it. A bona fide badass,” he said. “Give me an hour of your time tomorrow. That’s not too much to ask.”
    “I can’t.”
    “There’s a place out on State Street called Down the Hatch. You can look it up in the phone book. It’s a dive. You won’t see anyone you know.”
    “Channing and I have plans.”
    “So cancel ’em. One o’clock. The place will be deserted.”
    “Why would I agree?”
    “I want to sit someplace quiet and dark so I can look at you.”
    “That’s not a good idea.”
    “I’d say lunch, but then you’d think it was a date and that, I know, you’d refuse.”
    “No, thank you.”
    “Think about it.”
    She started to protest and he put a finger on her lips. His touch was brief but startlingly intimate. “Excuse me,” she said and moved away.
    When Nora returned to the table, Channing was talking about leg-hold traps. She was confused that such a subject had come up. As she took her seat, she said, “Leg-hold traps? Where did that come from?”
    Gretchen said, “Your gardener’s complaining about the coyotes.”
    Nora realized Mr. Ishiguro had told Channing about the coyote scat he’d showed her Wednesday when she was at the house. Since she’d told him she’d sent Mrs. Stumbo, she had to play dumb. Even if Mr. Ishiguro had mentioned her being there, his English was so fractured that Channing wouldn’t get the reference. “What about the coyotes?” she asked.
    Channing’s gesture was impatient. “They’ve invaded the property. They’re crapping everywhere. Mr. Ishiguro says he’s seen the male leap that six-foot wall between us and the Fergusons’. Karen’s two cats disappeared this past week. I told you about that.”
    “She shouldn’t have left them out. You said yourself how irresponsible it was.”
    “You’re missing the point. They’re getting bolder by the minute. Once they lose their fear of humans, they’re really dangerous. Mr. Ishiguro suggested traps and I said fine.”
    “Why would you let him use leg-hold traps? Those are horrible. They can snap an animal’s leg in two. If the poor things don’t bleed to death, they’re in excruciating pain. Why would you agree to something so barbaric? Those coyotes have never bothered us.”
    “They’re predators. They’ll eat anything. Birds, garbage, carrion. You name it.”
    Gretchen said, “I’ll tell you something gruesome. A friend of ours had her little shih tzu dragged off and eviscerated. She was standing right there. The poor dog all bloody and screaming. She said it was the worst thing that’s ever happened to her. She went out and bought a shotgun and she keeps it by the back door. She won’t go out in the yard now unless she’s armed.”
    “That’s ridiculous,” Nora said.
    Gretchen said, “I beg to differ. Even where we are, you can hear them howling after dark. Sounds like a pack of wild Indians about to attack. It gives me the willies.”
    “I better keep my pistol loaded,” Channing said with a smile. “If the traps don’t work, I can pick them off from the deck.”
    “You have a pistol ?” Gretchen asked.
    “Of course.”
    “Well, aren’t you the wily one. I had no idea.”
    “Stop it,” Nora snapped. “If that man sets leg-hold traps, I’m firing him.”
    “Well, you better be quick about it. He picked the traps up yesterday and he’s using chicken carcasses for bait.”
    “Won’t work,” Robert said. “They’re too smart. Even the faintest whiff of humans, a coyote won’t come anywhere close.”
    Nora snatched her bag and got up. “I’m going out to the car. You want to talk about this shit, you can do it without me.”

    On the way home, Channing made an attempt to jolly her out of her mood. “It was a joke,” he said.
    “There’s nothing funny about suffering.”
    “What’s wrong with you?”
    “Jesus, Channing, nothing’s wrong . Coyotes were here long before we were. We’re the ones encroaching on their