Amerikan Eagle

Larry called out, “Then think right, and think of Sarah and Toby. Think what might happen to them if you don’t get your promotion, if you’re demoted or even lose your job. I may be the mayor, Sam, but I don’t control the budget committee. The police department is always a favorite target.”

At that he swiveled. “A threat?”

“It’s a recognition of what’s going on. Who you know in the Party is going to be more important than the job you do. Even if the commission approves your promotion, it makes good sense to have important allies in your corner. And I could use you a man like you in the department… letting me know what the marshal is up to.”

“I don’t care about politics, I just care about my job,” Sam said, thinking, Oh, Christ, what a world, asked to be a rat twice in one day.

“Yeah, well, politics will sure as hell care about you. Better think about it, Sam. Do more with the Party: It’s a good career move.”

Sam stared directly at the man’s smug face, remembering a time last year when that face hadn’t been so smug. Sam had been across the river in Kittery, accompanying the cops and the Maine state police when they raided a house that had hourly paying guests. One of the guests being led out had been his father-in-law, and after Sam had a quick word with a Kittery detective, the cuffs had come off and Larry had run into the shadows. For Sarah’s sake, Sam had kept his mouth shut about what he had seen.

“Like I said, I don’t care about politics. I’m going to just do my job.”

Larry shot back, “If you don’t cooperate, if you end up losing your job, if bad things happen to Sarah and Toby, it’ll be your fault. I’m trying to be a reasonable man and show you a path to a brighter future, and take care of my daughter and grandson.”

“No, Larry, you’re trying to be a jerk.”

Out on the street, it seemed as if Larry yelled something out after him. Sam kept on walking.

* * *

In the daylight, the crime scene looked smaller and less sinister. He kicked a stone onto the railroad tracks, frustrated after his drive here. His meeting with his father-in-law had made him late to see the county medical examiner, who was now down the coast in Hampton, looking at a body that had washed up from the Atlantic. So the autopsy report would have to wait until tomorrow. He stood on the tracks, saw the gouges in the mud where the funeral home boys had retrieved the body. How in hell did his guy end up here, dead and alone?

Funny, he thought, how John Doe was now his guy. Well, it was true. Somehow he had turned up dead in Sam’s city, and Sam was expected to do something about it. He was going to find out who this guy was, and his name, occupation, and what had killed him. That was his job.

9 1 1 2 8 3.

The newly disturbed mud yielded no clues. He started walking in a slow circle, staring down at the dirt and the grass. An hour later, all he’d come up with was an empty RC Cola bottle, four soggy cigarette butts, and a 1940 penny. He kept the penny.

Now what?

Two men emerged from behind one of the small warehouses, moving deliberately up the railroad track. Both wore tattered long cloth coats and patched trousers. They stayed to the side of the tracks as they came closer.

Sam looked around. He was alone.

“Got any spare change, pal?” the man on the left called out.

“No, I don’t.”

“Here’s the deal, pal. You turn out your pockets, give us your wallet, your shoes and coat, and we’ll let you be.”

The first man moved his hand from behind his coat, showing a length of pipe. “Or we don’t let you be. Whaddya think?” The second man grinned, showing gaps in his teeth, and also the length of the pipe he was carrying.

Sam pulled his coat aside, reached up to his shoulder holster, pulled out his .38-caliber revolver. Then, with his other hand, he took out his badge. “I think we’ve got another deal going on here.” The men froze, and Sam said, “Am I right, guys?”

The one on the left gave a quick lick to his lips. His companion said, “Yes, sir, I guess we do.”

“Then drop the pipes, why don’t you. How does that sound?”

“Hey, bud,” the one on the left whined as his pipe length dropped to the ground. “We was jus’ foolin’, that’s all.”

“We’re jus’ hungry, that’s all,” the second man said. “That a crime now? Bein’ hungry?”

Sam kept his revolver leveled on them. “Here’s our new arrangement. Lucky for you clowns, I got a busy day ahead of me. So I’m not going to haul you in. But you two are going to turn around and start walking. You ever show up here again in Portsmouth, I’ll shoot you both and dump you in that pond over there. You got it?”

He could see them looking at him, evaluating him. Then they turned away. He kept his revolver up to make sure they weren’t going to change their minds. Only when they had gone about fifty yards did he return the gun to its holster.

Christ, he thought, what a week.