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||| 66 ||| cops handed over a copy of the complaint attached to the warrant. I read the specifics twice. Baffled, I said, “There must be a mistake. I never heard of a Stephen Edowski.” “No mistake. City attorney’s office approved the complaint.” I read the complaint and closed my eyes. Edowski lived on Aberdeen—no doubt with an Afghan hound. The corrections officer escorted me to a holding cell and locked me in with a dozen other prisoners. I asked when I could get a phone call. “After processing. For now, we’re backed up.” The door slammed. I looked at the other inmates. They eyed me, much in the manner of dogs, hair up, teeth bared. The one nearest me asked what I was in for. “Battery with dog shit, I guess.” The man turned to a nearby prisoner and said, “Probably murder.” i made bail just before five o’clock and took a cab to the New Laredo to get my car, a forty-one-dollar tab for the fare and five-dollar tip to a cabbie who smelled like discarded crab shells, and I didn’t have anything left over for dinner. That was fine. I’d lost any appetite I might have had. 12 I stared at the wall as I held the receiver to my ear and asked Danny to repeat what he’d just said. “I have to let you go.” “For being arrested on a misdemeanor?” “For being arrested at work. I have no choice.” A day after my release, I couldn’t fathom why they didn’t arrest me at home or call and ask me to surrender. Cops show murderers that much consideration . How could the police even take Edowski seriously? Where was the evidence? I couldn’t imagine a cop leaving the scene with a bag of dog turds and submitting the case to a prosecutor. “Danny, it’s a beef over a dog that shit on my lawn. Isn’t a guy innocent until he’s screwed by the courts?” “Guilty or not, we had to close a game down with our eleven-o’clock bus tours in. We’ll pay for a full shift, and you have tokes coming. I didn’t want ||| 67 ||| you to show up for work and find a termination slip waiting. I’ll give you a good recommendation.” So much for loyalty, I thought. “Thanks, Danny. Take care of your mother.” “What does that mean?” “Nothing. Just take care of her.” I hung up. 13 I waited outside Anne’s, weighing opposing prospects, whether to pursue a job at Wendy’s or McDonald’s or return to laying block. The idea of doing either didn’t lift my spirits. Laying block walls in the Vegas heat after years of avoiding the sun held little appeal, and although there might be some work for a skilled mason, illegal immigrants had flooded construction and pushed down wages in Las Vegas to 1980s levels. The big advantage a fast food job had over construction was air-conditioning. The big disadvantage was low wages. The living room window curtain opened, then the door opened, and Beth emerged. Head down, she rolled her overnight bag down the driveway. I reached across the seat and threw open the door. “Hey, you.” “You were arrested. I heard Mom say it.” “It’s true. I was arrested because I did a stupid thing.” “Really? How stupid?” “This neighbor a couple of blocks over let his mutt do his business on the front lawn. I put it in a bag, followed the guy home, and dumped it on his shoes.” She looked off. When she looked back, she was grinning. “Really?” “Afraid so.” “You totally did that? I mean, really, Dad, you know how crazy that sounds?” “Pretty crazy, I bet.” “Can I tell the kids at school? They’re always like telling weird-father stories. I only tell weird-mother stories.” She looked at me pensively. “But who’ll believe it?” “Apparently, the cops.” She nodded, then turned on the radio and tuned it to a contemporary rock station. It was too loud, so I turned it down. She reached over to raise the volume. I shook my head. She stuck out her tongue. I put the car in gear. “If you were a doctor or something,” she said, “then I could live with you. You’d have the money to fight for me.” [3.133.119.66] Project MUSE (2024...
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