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  The fourth man present in this group of four men and two women never had anything to do with the brawling. He was the joker of the bunch, not the fighter. He was the instigator; his comments about others while he and Tony drank together usually lead to those others being set upon by Tony in the near future. The man was Matthew. Matthew ran over to check on Andy as the others stayed with Tony to make sure he didn’t go back for more. Daylight had now completely gone, only the streetlamps remained to illuminate Andy’s limp body. The last of the bourbon had worked its way through his system, making sure he felt no pain at all.

  “I can’t feel his pulse!

  Matthew cried frantically.

  “I think you fucking killed him Tony!”

  Trying to justify his actions, Tony called back.

  “He cut me open! He cut me open with a fucking key!”

  A young bartender named Billy came out (now that Jimmy had stopped blocking the door) to check on the man, now lying, staring at the stars from the sidewalk.

  “What did you guys do? Earl! Call an ambulance!”

  “It was self-defense Billy!” Sneered Tony; pressing his face against his own shoulder. “He attacked me!”

  “Bullshit!” Billy muttered as he tried in vain to help Andy.

  Raising his head off the concrete, Billy had no idea what he was doing. He didn’t know if that would help at all, but he felt better knowing he tried.

  “I tell you this Tony.” Billy yelled. “You’re damn lucky your uncle’s the Sheriff!”

  As Tony sat on the sidewalk, applying pressure to his wound, he heard sirens in the background and smiled. Yes, he was lucky his uncle was the Sheriff. But he knew that already.

  CHAPTER 15

  The Sheriff’s cruiser pulled up outside Earl’s. The call was placed directly to the station but Oates knew he should be the one to respond. All eyes on the street watched the cruiser as Sheriff Oates and Deputy Lynch got out. The EMT was dressing Tony’s wound in the back of the ambulance when Oates appeared in front of him, staring at him through aviators, which he only very recently had no use for. In the background, the coroner was already on scene, closing the bag on Andy Williams. Tony was unable to meet eyes with his uncle; instead he stared at his polished shoes. Oates removed his beige tinted glasses and polished them on his shirt. His eyes were fiery but focused.

  “Who’s your friend?” Oates asked, pointing his chin towards the body bag in the ambulance.

  “Look Unc it was self-def...”

  “I never asked you what happened!” Oates snapped. “I asked you who he was.”

  Oates’ contempt for his nephew grew stronger every day. If his brother hadn’t died and left Tony in his care, he would have washed his hands of him years earlier.

  “Andy Williams. The guy on the news. His son killed his girlfriend in the city”

  “You mean the kid that’s been all over the news for murder? This is his father?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, that’s great isn’t it? Do you realize what's going to happen now? The press are going to swarm down here looking info on this little incident. What am I going to tell them eh? It just happened? He just died?”

  “It was self-defense Sheriff” repeated Tony quietly.

  “You know what son, just shut your mouth!”

  Oates’ blood boiled. Blood was the only reason he put up with him.

  “If those words came from anyone else I might believe them, but from you? I’ve a good mind to give you a taste of my baton.”

  Despite Tony’s bullying nature he was very intimidated by his uncle. Oates could beat him to a pulp if he wanted to but even though Tony was pretty sure that wouldn’t happen, the threat was enough to keep him in check.

  “So what, you just came down to Earl’s so you could pick on this man? Is that it? And don’t you dare try and tell me he started it!”

  “The guy was dangerous! We had to do something before he someone got killed!”

  “Boy, are you retarded? Someone did get killed. You damn well killed him!”

  “Better than one of us.”

  “So let me see if I got this straight…Concerned for the welfare of our fair town, you came down to the bar tonight along with your jerk-off friends so you could ‘protect’ us? Is that it? You weren’t just looking for trouble like always? Like you have been all your god-damned life?”

  “No sir.” Tony said quietly

  “No sir what?

  Oates got even more aggravated.

  “No sir you weren’t protecting us or no sir you weren’t looking for a fight?”

  Tony didn’t speak; he knew his words wouldn’t do any good right now.

  “What? Come on tough guy speak up!”

  The toot of a car horn interrupted Oates and he turned around. With an angry sigh he wondered how this car got here so quickly. He knew this was going to be more bad news.

  “Hello Mayor.” said Oates half-heartedly as he greeted the man inside the dark Sedan.

  “Sheriff, I came as soon as I heard!”

  “Well Hugh, you must have heard pretty quickly because I just got here myself.”

  “I don’t think I need to tell you how quickly news travels in Staunton Sheriff. But since you asked, my cousin is in there, he called me. He told me Tony killed a guy, is that true?”

  “As far as I can tell it was self-defense” Oates lied.

  Oates would rather not involve the mayor in this. Not only did he not feel it was any of his concern, Mayor Shannahan was more interested in town-revenue than townspeople. Oates knew he was most likely here to figure out how bad the murder would be for the image of the town.

  “Who was it Sheriff? Someone local? It wasn’t one of the boys on the football team was it?”

  …And Oates was correct. The high school football team were the state champions and Shannahan knew their games always brought business into the town. Portly and grey, Shannahan studied Oates’ face with ferret-like intensity.

  “No Hugh, it was an out-of-towner.”

  “Oh thank Jesus”

  The Mayor’s body showed an overpowering relief.

  “I wouldn’t thank Jesus just yet mayor. It turned out this particular out-of-towner was kind of famous, or rather infamous.”

  “Who is it?”

  Shannahan asked as he ushered the Sheriff to a quieter part of the street as if the town didn’t already know.

  “I’m sure you’ve been watching the news this past week. The little boy in the city; the one who killed his dad’s girlfriend.”

  “Yeah I saw it. What about him?”

  “It was the father.”

  “Christ! The media will be all over this.”

  Silence passed for a long moment as both men pondered what to do next.

  “You’re going to have to take care of this Sheriff.”

  Oates looked at Shannahan, realizing again just how terrible of a person he was. He decided to be honest, hoping the truth would permit some humanity to escape.

  “Look Hugh, I don’t know what’s going on yet. Tony said it was self-defense but I don’t believe him. I think it was worse than that.”

  “What? Murder?”

  Oates nodded.

  “No! We can’t have that!”

  Oates thought he hit a nerve with the word murder. He believed Shannahan was going to support him until the he spoke again.

  “Say it was self-defense.”

  “What?”

  “Or better yet, say it was an accident!”

  “Better yet? Hugh, this man’s been beaten to death! By my own nephew! How can I say it was an accident?”

  “Well I don’t know. You’re the Sheriff, make it happen!”

  “You’re joking right?”

  “Do I sound like I’m joking? Look Stacey…”

  Oates flinched angrily when Shannahan used his first name.

  “…you’ve lived in this town your whole life; you know how much we rely on tourism. Festivals and events are the
kind of things that attract people and their money to our little town. Staunton has a reputation state wide as a family friendly place. But what do you think will happen when the news reporters and camera crews swarm in here and find out about this? They already nicknamed the kid ‘The Baby Killer’ for Christ’s sake, what do you think they would nickname us? Now, if it was just a tragic accident say, he got hit by a car or something…now that we could live with. Who knows, it might even be good for us, maybe put us on the map a little.”

  “No Hugh I can’t do that. You might think it’s ok to cover up a murder but I don’t, it’s not gonna happen.”

  “Ok fine, don’t sweep it under the rug. Leave it out for the whole fucking world to see. Let your nephew get the needle for this, cos that’s what they do with convicted killers here Stacey. They get the needle. What would your brother think of that?”

  Oates lost his temper and pushed Shannahan up against the wall.

  “You don’t get to talk about my brother like you knew him. You didn’t. But I know you, you’re a small man and a coward. You don’t care about people. You’re only interested in lining your greasy fucking pockets!”

  “Look, Sheriff, even if that were true, I know you care about people and I know you want what’s best for Tony. A murder conviction isn’t what’s best for him.”

  Oates relaxed his grip as Shannahan continued.

  “Those friends of his don’t want to go down as accessories so you’ll have no problem convincing them to co-operate. It’ll be so easy.”

  Oates was conflicted. Shannahan was a coward but he was right. Tony had got away with a lot in the past thanks to his family connections but this was different. Oates was convinced Tony would get away with murder in the second degree, avoiding the needle, but that still meant many years in prison. Oates had never recorded Tony’s previous brawls officially but he had punished him privately. He could turn a blind eye to minor assaults. But murder? He had sworn to his brother he would protect Tony from all harms including himself but he knew this was going too far. Oates was guilty of the odd assault or “police brutality” as it was commonly known. He believed hitting the odd troublemaker here and there enforced his position as Sheriff, and thus enforcing the rule of law. It was just a shame he could not keep his own nephew from committing acts of violence whenever he pleased.

  “You know what you have to do Stacey.

  Shannahan said, content he had gotten through to him.

  “I’ll see you later.”

  Oates didn’t respond as he turned and faced his nephew. The body still lingered in the back of the coroner’s wagon like a physical representation of responsibility but the Sheriff could not figure out which of his responsibilities it represented. Was it to his family or to his oath to the law? As he walked down the street toward his nephew-sitting patiently in the ambulance-his thoughts raced. What would his subordinates think if he asked them to falsify a report? What would his brother think if he let his only son rot in jail for the rest of his life? As he stood in front of the bully that was Tony Oates-his own flesh and blood-he knew exactly what he had to do.

  CHAPTER 16

  Doctor Greg MacNamee was not exclusively a creature of habit, though he was when it came to certain things. He loved waking up to his cups of tea in the morning, delivered to him by his lovely wife Greta. But that didn’t mean he would drink the same tea day in and day out. Some people class habitual behavior as boring but not MacNamee. He enjoyed having the same coffee every day on his way to work just the same as he enjoyed sleeping with the same woman every night. Still half asleep in bed he was brought to his senses by that familiar clicking sound as the tea cup landed on the bedside table, accompanied by a delightful odor. The aroma of raspberry and elderflower was a tantalizing combination, fruity yet earthy at the same time.

  “How did you know I would want that this morning?” MacNamee asked with his eyes closed.

  “Because it’s Thursday” Greta retorted.

  “Am I really that predictable?” he asked, his voice groaning while waking.

  “No, you’re not predictable.” Greta reassured and then continued. “Now come on, it’s your usual time to get up. I’ve made you your usual breakfast and pressed your usual shirt. Your usual pants are hanging on the door and I’ve already checked the traffic reports. Your usual route to work is clear.”

  “I don’t remember you usually being this hilarious.” MacNamee responded dryly, still lying in bed.

  “Lies! Come on now, get up and I’ll turn on your usual news program.”

  “This is my excited face” quipped MacNamee unflinching.

  Greta turned on the news which happened to be blaring out a special bulletin. Sheriff Oates was on the television. As Greta read the caption she tried to stir her husband.

  “Um…Greg?”

  “Greg’s sleeping.”

  “You might want to take a look at this.”

  Greta’s tone was serious now, causing MacNamee to pay attention. Sitting up in bed he looked at the television and his eyes widened in shock.

  “Shit! Greta sweetie, pass me the phone. I need to call Crass!”

  Doctor Crass’s cellphone rung. The old doctor answered it while staring at a television in the staff break room.

  “Ben, go to the break room and turn on the news! Channel 37!”

  “I know. I’m watching it now.” The old doctor shook his head. “What a mess!”

  MacNamee hurriedly got ready as he talked on the phone.

  “Should we draw straws for who gets to tell him?”

  “No, I already have a plan in mind. How soon can you be here?”

  “I’m just getting ready now. I’ll be leaving in five; I’ll be in your office in thirty.”

  “Make it twenty-five.” Crass said calmly as he hung up the phone.

  Watching the news in the dingy staff break room Crass stood apart from a few nurses who informed him of the event.

  “What a mess!”

  MacNamee hurried up the west corridor to Crass’s office. The air was tense as word had spread amongst the staff of what had happened. MacNamee did not shower today and it showed. His normally wavy hair jutted out on the side he had slept on but he didn’t care. He had too much on his mind to make room for vanity. Without knocking he opened the door, something he had never done before but again, today he had too much on his mind to bother about such trivial things. Crass sat, calmly tidying up papers on his desk when the young doctor came up and sat down on the chair opposite.

  “No coffee today?” Crass asked with a little smile in the corner of his mouth.

  The fact that he could make light of the situation put MacNamee at ease a little. Suddenly all the anxiety that had been building up since he saw the news report began to fade and he started to calm down. A natural smile broke out of MacNamee as he appreciated his mentor’s style of reassuring him.

  “Now what?” he asked sighing.

  “Hold on” Crass said, still sorting the papers on his desk “I’m expecting a phone call.”

  “Shouldn’t we be dealing with this?”

  “You don’t think I am?”

  MacNamee could not understand Crass’s behavior; he was not normally this elusive. After a long moment the phone rung and MacNamee looked even more confused.

  “Hello, Dr. Crass speaking” stated the old man with a smirk, as if he already knew who was on the other end.

  “Good morning Doctor this is Sergeant Jacobs returning your call.”

  “Hello Sergeant, thank you for being prompt.”

  Crass took a breath

  “And how are you this morning?”

  Jacobs paused “I guess you saw the news then?”

  “I did, yes”

  “Well, what do you think?”

  “Well, I think it’s going to be rough for the boy to hear his dad is dead. I also think it’s going to be rough for whoever has to tell him.”

  “Don’t you think it’s a bit of a coincidence that Andy Wil
liams left town only yesterday on now he’s turned up dead?”

  Crass smiled “Sergeant Jacobs, I do not believe in coincidence.”

  “Neither do I doc, neither do I.”

  “Good. Then can I assume you are looking at the good Sheriff’s reports yourself then?”

  Jacobs snickered.

  “I have them in my hands now; a Deputy Lynch faxed them over to me ten minutes ago.”

  “Well done sergeant. Now, I have to say I think it would be best if you came over and told the boy. You interviewed him already so he knows you and I think it would be more real to him if he was given the news by a police officer.”

  “I’d have to agree, though I’m certainly not looking forward to it. This kind of thing is never easy.”

  “I’m sure it’s not sergeant, but unfortunately we all have unpleasant duties in our respective lines of work.”

  “You don’t have to tell me that Doc. I’ll be over as soon as I can.”

  “Very good sergeant, I’ll see you shortly.”