The Constellations

Roy stepped off the ladder

roy sTEppEd oFF THE laddEr, unbuckled his tool belt, and slung it over his shoulder. He felt like he’d lost ten pounds in the heat, and it was only lunchtime. Once the work started, the members of the crew went at it mostly without speaking. All had silently acknowledged Dombey’s absence. It happened, in his case more often than average, and no one thought twice about it except Tiny, who had to get the crew to make up his part of the day’s work, and Roy. Bramm was sitting at the bottom of the unfinished staircase with his head down. “You okay?” Roy asked. “Just wishing I’d become a doctor,” Bramm said. Outside felt no different than inside, even with the hint of a breeze. Roy stretched as he sidestepped through the door frame and opened his eyes to see a county sheriff car parked against the curb. The young deputy was talking to Gordon but watching the house. Roy pretended interest in his pack of cigarettes. The adrenaline pouring into his body took his breath. Blood began to drum behind his nose. When he looked up from lighting his cigarette, however, the deputy had fallen back into conversation with Gordon. “That burglary thing,” Bramm said from behind him. He laughed when Roy started.“Sorry there,man.Catch you napping?” “I guess these damn cigarettes make me jumpy,” Roy said. Bramm motioned toward the deputy.“So you think Carl did it?” “I hope not,” Roy said. “That’s why he called off today, you know. He’s trying to cut a deal with the sheriff. Carl told me he knows some information but didn’t have anything to do with the crime.” Roy raised his shirt to wipe—and hide—his face.“Told you?” Kevin Cunningham 127 “Last night. Hush-hush, okay?” Bramm glanced toward the deputy before going on.“I asked Carl if he had a lawyer, and he said he was making his own arrangements. Wouldn’t you like to be in on that phone call? Probably high as a kite, delusions of grandeur. I’ll never forgive the sonofabitch for the cops coming out to my house, though. I knew I was innocent and I damn near had a heart attack. My guilty conscience is gonna kill me.” During the last two sentences Bramm had lost track of Roy, and when he turned to take in the laugh he thought he’d earned, he saw Roy bent over, hands on his knees. With a shamefaced smile and a very red face, Roy begged off to go to the bathroom. Inside, sweating even harder in the choking heat, a trickle of blood gathering on his lip, he imagined a list with his name on it, his phone number doodled on a receipt, a note admitting guilt on Dombey’s behalf—and his own. Like as not the sheriff had already searched Carl’s trailer. Everyone knew Dombey smoked weed and anyone could figure out a way to use that information to get in the front door. Roy knew he couldn’t pull off another straight act. It was over. But when he emerged, the rest of the crew had gathered in the shade of a maple for lunch. The deputy was gone. Roy liked liquor but he knew he’d never stopped at one shot in his life, and not often at two. Once you passed that point they went down too fast and cost too much, so at bars he rarely started. But now and then he bought a bottle after work, and that’s what he did on the way home. He sat on the porch sipping bourbon from a coffee mug. Watching the driveway made the fear worse. He tried listening to music. Watching TV. Straightening the house. Finally he alighted in the kitchen. Worry and heat had already stolen his appetite, however. In fact he felt like throwing up. He hoped it happened before the cops arrived.He didn’t want to look like a coward. The phone rang. Roy stood over it for four rings before answering . “Glad I caught you,” Cowell said after the greetings. 128 The Constellations Roy concentrated on not slurring his words. “Are the girls all right?” “Just fine. Something’s happened with this burglary case. Maybe you could swing by a little early.” “What?” “Not on the party line.” Cowell had the...