Spencerville

The patrolman laughed. "Yeah? Now, why would you want to do something stupid like that?"

"You tell me. Man-to-man, Schenley."

Schenley grinned. "Well... word is that you and Mrs. Baxter used to be an item."

"Maybe. Do you think that would make the chief angry?"

"Probably."

"Do you think he'll get over it?"

The patrolman laughed again, then said, "Hey, you know how guys are."

"I sure do. Do me a favor, Schenley. Tell the chief that the next time I make an appointment with him, he should notify me in advance when he knows he can't make it."

"I guess he wanted to see if you'd come."

"I already figured that out. He doesn't have to wonder about that. I'm here, and I'll be here, or anyplace he wants to meet me, anytime. His turn to ask."

"You're a cool customer. I'll give you some advice. Don't mess with this guy."

"I'll give you, Baxter, and the rest of you guys some advice — back off. I'm tired of your bullshit."

"I'll pass it on."

Keith looked at Schenley. He seemed a little less belligerent than the two guys in the park. In fact, Schenley seemed almost embarrassed by this whole thing. Keith said, "Don't get involved in the boss's personal squabbles." Keith put his left hand over his shirt, which still covered the Glock, pulled back on the slide and released it, cocking the automatic with a loud metallic noise that was unmistakable. He said, "It's not worth it."

Schenley's eyes focused on the shirt draped over Keith's right hand, and he seemed to stare at it a long time, then looked up at Keith. "Take it easy."

"Take a walk."

Schenley turned slowly and walked back to the car. Keith picked up the basketball and got into the Blazer. He kept an eye on the police car as it turned and went back around the school.

Keith drove across the playing fields and came out onto a road that bordered the school property. He turned toward town and drove past the Elks Lodge, noting that the parking lot was filled, then turned out into the country and headed for home.

"So, Mrs. Baxter will tell amusing stories about her husband. Maybe she can tell them about his wild weasel."

He got a little better control of his emotions and said, "Well, what do you expect in a social column?" He couldn't believe he felt a tinge of jealousy. "Of course she has an official life as the wife of a leading citizen." He remembered again how she'd looked at him on the street when they spoke. "Right. The wives of important men and politicians stand by their man and smile even when the guy is an adulterer, coward, and totally corrupt. Comes with the territory."

He discarded this subject and thought about what had just happened. Obviously, Cliff Baxter felt it important that he show Keith Landry why he hadn't come. Baxter cared what Landry thought of him. This was nothing new; the class bully was uniquely insecure, which was why he persecuted and belittled people around him while puffing himself up.

And then there were Baxter's own men, such as Officer Schenley. They knew something, and they wanted to see how the boss was going to deal with it. Keith suspected that unless they were corrupt to the core, they secretly hated their chief. But they also feared him, and, unless and until somebody bigger and badder came along to deal with the chief, they were going to follow orders. Loyalty toward a bad leader was conditional, but you couldn't count on the troops mutinying or running away. Men were profoundly stupid and sheeplike in the face of rank and authority, especially soldiers, cops, and men in government service. That's what had almost happened to him in Washington.

Keith saw the porch lights of his house ahead and turned into the dark driveway. Well, he thought, tonight was a draw. But somewhere down the road, one of them was going to score a point, and as far as Keith was concerned, the game was already in sudden-death overtime.

Chapter Fourteen

The next several days passed uneventfully, despite the schoolyard incident. No police cars passed by, the phone didn't ring in the middle of the night, Baxter did not call to reschedule their showdown, and all was quiet. This was meant to be unnerving, the calm before the storm. But Keith was not unnerved.

At seven o'clock one morning, Keith walked across the road to the Jenkins house and found the family at breakfast, where he knew they'd be at that hour. Seated at the kitchen table were Martin and Sue Jenkins, a couple in their late thirties, and a teenage boy and girl, Martin Jr. and Sandra, both in high school.

Sue invited Keith to have breakfast, but he said coffee would be fine. They talked about the weather, which was definitely cool now, the coming harvest, the possibility of rain, and the Farmer's Almanac prediction of a harsh winter. Sue thought the almanac was idiotic, but Martin put great faith in it.

The two kids excused themselves to do their chores before school and left.

Keith said to the Jenkinses, "I know you've got chores, too, so I won't be long."

"What can we do for you?" Martin asked.