Missing
A man came to Rian's door yesterday.
He wore pinstripes and grey slacks and a gleaming black belt. Petit, white haired, clean shaven and so perfectly polished Rian thought at first he was selling religion. He clasped a leather binder to his chest. There was a fading blue bruise over his left eye.
Rian, who was caught in the middle of tiling, must have looked a fright. Hot, sick, dusty, headphones in one ear and dripping porcelain shards in one hand, Rian glowered through the screen.
"I do not want any-"
"I'm here on account of Jim Bled***," he said quickly. "With the prosecutor's office. I'm doing some research."
Oh, dear, thought Rian. What have we got here?
Nevertheless, being a creature of Manners, Rian opened the door and stepped onto the porch. The man shrank back a ttch. Rian towered over the fellow, and I imagine my hair was standing up in tufts. I am not at my best when ill.
"Is there a problem?" Rian asked gently. Jim Bled*** has discovered Rian's unorthodox manner of parking?
"I'm here about an incident that occurred down the street recently." The man's bruised brow twitched. "About three weeks ago. I'm looking for witnesses."
"Ah?" Rian considered. "We have been out of town, yes? We left on the 24th."
"The 24th!" The fellow straightened. "The 24th was when it happened. In the evening. Just down the street." He was beginning to become more animated. His hands moved in little jerks and he leaned very close. Rian suddenly realized the odd light in his eye might be desperation.
"We left early in the morning." Rian paused. "May I ask what happened?"
"Well. Yes." He edged even closer. Rian smelled Lysol and took one step back. "The house down the street, with the for sale sign?"
"Yes?"
"The Browns live there. Doctor Brown. And on the evening of the 24th, the victim was walking his dog along the street. Simply walking the dog." Desperation wavered to dignity and back again. "Dr. Brown flew off the handle. Yelled about the grass. And then started beating the victim. Me. I am the victim."
"Yes." Rian considered the fading bruise and the shaking hands. "I see that."
"I need to find someone who witnessed it." Desperation became larger trembles; the man's hands clenched over his binder. "I'm not suing. But there's a criminal case. I need to find someone who SAW. Is there anyone who might have SEEN?"
Rian hesitated. Something in that frail form was missing. Pride? Security? Peace of mind? And had it been there before, the Doctor allegedly beaten it away? Or had it never been there to begin with?
"Hans and Anna." Rian said at last. "Across the street. They are always home."
"Do you think they might've seen -"
"I do not know." Rian replied. "Perhaps."
When I stepped back through the screen door, he had not moved. Kneading his notebook, he watched me. And I could not replace what was missing.
He wore pinstripes and grey slacks and a gleaming black belt. Petit, white haired, clean shaven and so perfectly polished Rian thought at first he was selling religion. He clasped a leather binder to his chest. There was a fading blue bruise over his left eye.
Rian, who was caught in the middle of tiling, must have looked a fright. Hot, sick, dusty, headphones in one ear and dripping porcelain shards in one hand, Rian glowered through the screen.
"I do not want any-"
"I'm here on account of Jim Bled***," he said quickly. "With the prosecutor's office. I'm doing some research."
Oh, dear, thought Rian. What have we got here?
Nevertheless, being a creature of Manners, Rian opened the door and stepped onto the porch. The man shrank back a ttch. Rian towered over the fellow, and I imagine my hair was standing up in tufts. I am not at my best when ill.
"Is there a problem?" Rian asked gently. Jim Bled*** has discovered Rian's unorthodox manner of parking?
"I'm here about an incident that occurred down the street recently." The man's bruised brow twitched. "About three weeks ago. I'm looking for witnesses."
"Ah?" Rian considered. "We have been out of town, yes? We left on the 24th."
"The 24th!" The fellow straightened. "The 24th was when it happened. In the evening. Just down the street." He was beginning to become more animated. His hands moved in little jerks and he leaned very close. Rian suddenly realized the odd light in his eye might be desperation.
"We left early in the morning." Rian paused. "May I ask what happened?"
"Well. Yes." He edged even closer. Rian smelled Lysol and took one step back. "The house down the street, with the for sale sign?"
"Yes?"
"The Browns live there. Doctor Brown. And on the evening of the 24th, the victim was walking his dog along the street. Simply walking the dog." Desperation wavered to dignity and back again. "Dr. Brown flew off the handle. Yelled about the grass. And then started beating the victim. Me. I am the victim."
"Yes." Rian considered the fading bruise and the shaking hands. "I see that."
"I need to find someone who witnessed it." Desperation became larger trembles; the man's hands clenched over his binder. "I'm not suing. But there's a criminal case. I need to find someone who SAW. Is there anyone who might have SEEN?"
Rian hesitated. Something in that frail form was missing. Pride? Security? Peace of mind? And had it been there before, the Doctor allegedly beaten it away? Or had it never been there to begin with?
"Hans and Anna." Rian said at last. "Across the street. They are always home."
"Do you think they might've seen -"
"I do not know." Rian replied. "Perhaps."
When I stepped back through the screen door, he had not moved. Kneading his notebook, he watched me. And I could not replace what was missing.
posted by La Tulipe | 3:47 PM
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