The Saga, Part 16 -- The Wrong End of A Gun

Tuesday morning dawned cold and wet, just like Sunday. It took all of my strength to get out of bed and ready for the day. I had been in Great Neck for over a week, working sixteen to eighteen hour days, without a day off, and only sleeping four or five hours a night. I was tired, hungry, and cold. Maybe, today I would have someone with me that could watch the wells while I found some place to shop. Maybe today, I could get more bread and something to eat besides a cold sandwich

I plowed through puddles, huddled up under my umbrella, to the Greek restaurant, and met the father inside. As I stumbled over the words, he stopped me gently, and closed the book. The counterman translated, his dark eyes troubled, My father says that you are to rest today. He says that you are working too hard, and he is worried.

I thanked him and held the old mans hand, Agape, Papa. The old man was pleased, and said, Agape. I hoped that Papa was an international wordbut he seemed to understand. When I left, the counterman pressed a small, neatly wrapped package into my hand. For you, he said, for later. We will see you tomorrow? I nodded, thanked him, and splashed my way back to the monster car. They must have enjoyed the little petits fours I hoped.

The coffee at the gas station seemed unusually dark and oily, but it was hot, so I loaded up as much as I could carry, added a few chocolate bars, and drove on to the well field. Brendan and Harry were in the cab of the water company pickup truck, propped up against the windows, snoring in unison. I understood that they were completely worn out, so I left them alone, and took the next set of measurements. Up at the monitoring well, I left a hot coffee up on the hill for our guardian, although I saw no one, and continued on my way.

By the time I got back to the well, Brendan and Harry had awakened and were drinking their coffee. Brendan, the spokesman of the two, said, Thanks for the coffee. We wont be out here tonight; weve got a couple of days off. I gave them their candy bars, and they seemed to be reviving as they bounced and jounced their way down the lane. Once they were gone, I opened the little package from the Greek restaurant. It was baklava, dripping with honey! Baklava! Oh joy! A treat! What sweet friends, I thought, savoring each and every bite.

It was late morning, finally, and no one had come from the water company to help. Up at the monitoring well, one of the familiar silent guardians stood next to a tree, up under an umbrella. It was the man of the ravioli! I walked up the hill a little bit, and called out, Sir? Sir? Would you like some hot coffee?

No response, so I climbed up the hill until I was only about twenty feet away from the man, and said, Sir? Would you like some hot coffee? Im going to go and get some, and I can bring you a fresh cup. It is awfully cold and wet out here. My southern accent seemed out of place, as usual. I wondered if he understood me.

He looked at me as if I were a fungal growth that had sproutednot interested, a little contemptuous. I walked up a little closer. Sir, I said, Please, I know you are cold. Please let me bring you something hot to drink, at least.

He looked behind him, and yes, I was talking to him. Sir, I know you are cold. I really appreciate that you are here, watching out for us. Please, may I bring you some hot coffee?

Even I, the home-grown country doofus, knew that he wasnt out here watching after us, but was watching to make sure we bothered no one under his chargebut, what the hey? I could pretend that he cared, anyway. I had found it comforting to know that someone was there.

Besides, it was getting a little creepy-- seeing the same fellow all the time and not speaking to him. At home, we speak to everybody we see, all the time. Of course, there are fewer of usit is easier. Also, we always wait until we get an answer to, How ya doin? If someone answered, Not so hot, we inquired about their health, their familys health, their pets health, their mental state, and offered sympathy, etc. It was just a part of our normal social interaction with one another. It seemed to me to be downright unnatural somehow, to continue to ignore this manhe had been here for almost a week. I was a bad hostess, if I didnt at least offer him something warm to drink.

Sir, I repeated, a little coffee? Please?

Slowly, he stepped away from the tree. One tiny step. Yes, he said.

Would you like cream and sugar? I asked.

Again, he looked behind him. Concluding that I was talking to him again, he said, Yes.

OK, I said, Ill be right back. I hurried down the path to the monster car, whipped over to the gas station, and scrambled back up the hillon a mission. A good hostess attends to the needs of her guest. This wasnt my well field, but it was my test, and I seemed to be the only one around.

Here you go, sir, I said, climbing up the hill to hand him his coffee. Cream and sugar, too. He took the proffered cup, the cream and sugar. I stepped back, unwilling to intrude upon his space. Thank you, sirI hope this helps. And off I went down to the monitoring well, taking my next measurementMission Accomplished. I was strangely comforted, the basic social amenities as I knew them, had been observed.

By one oclock, no one had come from the water company. I knew that they were busy running a water company, and they knew that I was fine, but my stomach thought my throat had been cut, and was protesting. I was going to have to run to the Deli, grab yet another cold sandwich of thinly shaved, processed meat, and come back, between measurements. I heaved a sighprobably no shopping today. I took the next set of measurements, saving the monitoring well for last. When I got up the hill, I approached the man again.

Sir, I said, would you like some lunch? Im going to the Deli to get a sandwich, and I would be happy to bring something back for you.

He had moved closer to the tree again. No response, so I tried again. Sir, I said, Im going to get some lunch at the Deli. May I get you a sandwich as well? Please?

He slowly nodded, Yes, he said.

What would you like? I asked him. He gave me his detailed order, a pro at the art of deli-ordering, and I wrote it down on a data sheet, so I wouldnt forget. Ill be back as soon as I can. More coffee? A coke? What kind of coke?

He looked at me strangely for a moment, and then said, Coffee. I had yet to realize that the word, Coke a generic name to me for all carbonated beverages, meant only one thing to him, a Coca-Cola. And at that time, there was only Coke, no flavors.

I battled my way to the Deli, luckily finding a place to park on the second drive-around, and just ordered two of what he had requested, with hot coffee, cream and sugar. I was exceptionally careful, because who knew what kind of coffee they would ask me aboutbut, luckily for me, in the age before specialty coffee shops were common, the Deli only served one kind of coffeejust plain coffee.

Thank God . If I had needed to go through the ordeal of cappuccino, espresso, or latte, in addition to the other hundreds of choices, my brain would have likely have tripped a fuse and zapped into a cloud of blue smoke, like the electric box that first day. Waiting at the counter, I wondered if the counterman would even notice my head, blackened, with blue smoke curling out my ears . Probably not , I decided, n ot as long as I ordered everything else properly.

I climbed the hill and took the man his sandwich and coffee, handing it to him with a smile. He said, Thanks. Then, he started fumbling in his pocket for money.

No, sir, I said, This is my treat. I am very glad that you are here, and would like to thank you.

He smiled in response, or rather, lifted his lips in a semblance of a smile, an oak tree with some human feelings after all. I waved as I walked back down the hill in the rain. The sandwich was wonderfulthe best Id had yet. I had kept the order and decided that if I just used his order, at least I could have a good cold sandwich. And the coffee was warming. I guessed it was all in knowing what to request

I continued with the measurements, sitting in the monster car down by Well #1. No traffic on the road below me. No one from the water company. Patton died, and I started another book, this one a biography of Oman Bradley. The rain beat a monotonous tattoo on the roof of the car and I hoped that I wouldnt fall asleep. Finally, about 4 oclock, the day was beginning to seem endless, but traffic picked up down on the road below.

First, a car drove by very fast, past the entrance to the well field, brake lights flashing in the curve, and slipping sideways a little in the rainy road. Then it was gone. A few seconds later, a dark car with flashing lights drove by, nearly as quickly, but silently-- an unmarked police car! Golly! I thought. Excitement! I sat up straighter to look out through the fogged windshield. Then, a police car sped by, lights on, sirens wailing, sliding into the curve and vanishing with a howl.

I started the car, and turned on the defogger. I had a good view of a small section of the road from Well #1, through a gap in the trees, but the forest blocked most of my view. There were people out there, driving around! In this huge city, I had managed to see virtually no one all day, but the guardian in the hills and the Deli counterman. I could hear the sirens wailing in the distance. Then, they began to get louder. My windshield was still foggy, so I wiped it with the sleeve of my coat to see.

The first car zipped by from the same direction, but this time, the brake lights didnt flash and it didnt make the curve, the hind end slipping across the road into the ditch on the other side, twisting so that its headlights faced me. Instantly following it was the unmarked car, which came to a screeching stop, sideways around the road on the other side of the car, followed by several police cars, lights flashing and sirens on full. Right before my very eyes, the police got out of their car, pointing guns at the first car. I could hear them call something and assumed it was, Come out with your hands up!

I was up in the monster car, too interested to be afraid, peering through the foggy windshield. Golly! I thought. A high speed chase!

Two holes appeared in the windshield of the wrecked car, with the report of gun fire. Oh my gosh! I thought. Theyre shooting at each other! I held my breath, hoping the policemen wouldnt be hurt.

A man got out of the wrecked car, running beside it and disappearing into the woods across the street, away from my view. The police followed, guns drawnand for a long time, I heard nothing, but the sirens wailing. I stayed up the hill in the car, fascinated at the scene before me.

Finally, the policemen came back, suspect in tow, his hands handcuffed behind him. One of the policemen reached into the car and turned off the siren, but left the flashing lights on. A man in a raincoat got out of the unmarked police car, standing near the suspect, hands on his hips, talking to the man. Then, one of the policemen put the man in the back of one of the police cars, and it drove away.

Right about then, my watch beeped. I got out of the car, making my way to the well to take a measurement. I quickly shut the door of the car, to keep the warm air in, and went into the well house to take my reading and collect the sample. Everyone seemed to be all right, I thought. Thats good! I took the measurement, collected the sample, and was pouring the water for the sample into the test tube, when someone asked, Who are you?

Startled, I dropped the test tube onto the concrete floor, where it shattered, and looked up. A policeman was standing in the doorway, his gun in his hand, although not pointed at me. He was breathing hard, and his face looked like hard death. His eyes---

The the the geo-logggist, I stammered. Im sure I had a completely bug-eyed look of astonishment and fear. I dropped my hands, and the policeman aimed his gun at me. I quickly put my hands back up.

What are you doing here? he asked me, his gun still trained on me.

Rrrrrunnunnunnning a pumpppping test. I struggled to get the words out, my heart pounding. Dddddont shoot me, sir.

Get out of there, we want to talk to you, he said. I walked out of the well house, my arms up in the air, not feeling my feet or where they were touching the ground. What do they think Ive done?

There was a man in a big hat, talking with another policeman. He turned and I started in surprise, it was the guardian from the hill! I turned toward the policeman, my hands in the air, my heart thudding away.

Who are you? he asked again. So, stammering, I tried to explain who I was, and what I was doing. I had watched the whole thing, I said, up here in my car. I glanced at the guardian, who was paying no attention to me, talking softly with the other policeman. My policeman looked at me, his eyes on my face. Finally, he said, Ok, you can put your hands down, and he put his gun in its holster.

I felt weak-kneed, suddenly, and sat down on the wet gravel with a thump.

Do you have any identification? he asked.

Yes, sir said, faintly, in my purse, in the car. I have my drivers license.

Get it, he said. I tried to stand, but couldnt. My legs just werent working, for some reason. I managed to get onto my knees, but the scene swam before my eyes, and I just couldnt seem to stand up. Curiously, I watched as the gravel came up to meet my face. Thud. Nothing went black, but there was wet gravel, right there, and I couldnt seem to make my limbs do what I wanted them to do. Finally, in a fog, I noticed a hand, reaching for me. I looked up, and it was the guardian from the hill. He helped me to stand, saying not one word, and led me, dreamlike, to the car. I opened the door, found my purse, and dug out my wallet, showing the policeman my drivers license, my hands trembling.

He looked at it doubtfully, (Kentucky?), and the guardian silently held my arm. Gradually, I was getting the feeling back in my legs, and the scene began to clear. Sensing my return, the guardian let go of my arm, not ungently, and stepped back to the other policeman. I told you she didnt know nothing.

Does the water company know youre out here? the policeman asked suspiciously.

Of course, I said, I am working for the water company.

Stay here, out of the way, he said. His eyes werent quite so cold, so I felt better. Maybe they believed me after all. Where is Chief OMalley and his men? I wondered. The policemen walked down the lane toward the detective in the raincoat, and just about then, a water company car pulled up with an iiirk! Danny got out, and strode toward the detective in the raincoat, his red hair a flame in the gloom. I looked to thank the guardian, but he was gone, melted into the forest. I made it back to the car, and fell into the front seat. I had lived all these years, and never, ever, been on the wrong end of a policemans gun, and, in one week, it had happened twice . This time was much worse , I thought. Bullets! They had fired real bullets!

Danny was down in the road, waving his arms and yelling something. I couldnt hear what he was saying, but I could imagine. A water company truck pulled up behind Dannys car, and Sean got out, then Fred. Fred hurried up the hill toward the well, but I hadnt the energy to go and meet him. Fred came to the car, Are you all right? he asked, his eyes dark with worry.

I nodded and said, It was pretty exciting there for a bit. Ive never seen a police chase before. Ive never been in the way, either, when guns are fired, I told him. Even though I really wasnt in any danger, it finally dawned on me that I might be.

Fred said, We keep a police scanner on at work, and we heard about the robbery. Then, they said they had caught the man right here at the well field. Shots exchanged, we heard. We got here as soon as we could.

Im fine, thank you, Fred. I wasnt in danger. I tried to reassure him. The worst part was when the police thought I was a part of it.

The second policeman, the one that had talked with the guardian, walked up to the car, and told me, We need for you to make a statement down at the station. I nodded, wearily. I hoped my father didnt have to know that I had been involved, even as a witness, to a crime.

Fred said, Go on, make the statement, and go get some rest. Well take over the measurements for the rest of the night. You look like you could use a break.

I smiled at him, gratefully. Does this kind of stuff happen all the time here?

Fred, laughed, and shook his head, No, this is a special occasionjust for you. This has never happened before.

The policeman watched, indifferent, as I got out of the car, but he walked closely beside me, on guard, down the lane to his car. Once there, though, I balked. He wanted me to ride to the station in the back of his police car, behind the fence? My battered sense of rightness began to rear its head. I rolled my eyes at the car and at him. What did he mean I had to get in the back of a locked police car, behind the grill? What was he thinking; that I was some criminal? Some Hick from the Sticks? Southern-ness does not equate to dumbness , I thought. I know better than this. I set my feet. Nope, I wasnt going to do it. It was shameful! My temper was beginning to rise, and I could feel my hair start to curlalways a bad sign.

No, I said, my southern accent even worse than normal, because I was upset, I am not getting into the back of a police car, behind the fence, like some hardened criminal. I can drive myself, or I can ride with the detective in his car, but at home, only bad people ride in the back of a police car and I havent done anything wrong, here. I was fed up, all right. Im telling you true, I said, my voice low, but emphatic, I will voluntarily and gladly go with someone else, in a regular car, or sit up front, and will gladly do my duty, but I am NOT getting into that car like Im some crook that broke the law! My father will have a fit! An absolute conniption fit, and Im NOT shaming my father!

Then, I delivered what I considered to be the telling blow, Im a complete stranger to these parts, and no one, would ever treat a stranger, let alone a nice LADY like this at home! And I affixed them with a baleful eye.

Danny quickly jumped to my defense, Ye caint be makin her get into the police car, now, he said, She dinna do anything! Ill bring her, or shell come quiet with someone else, but shes no bluidy Orangeman! And he winked at me, enjoying the show. Danny/Daddy, they were one and the same. They loved the thrill of battleespecially when someone else was fighting it.

Thank God, Danny understood. I told him, My father will never understand if I allow myself to be put into the back of a police car, as if I have done something wrong, when I havent. No policeman at home would consider asking it of me! It is disgraceful! No policeman at home would treat me the way they have, either, as if I were doing something wrongan innocent bystander, (I was getting madder by the second), and no one would have stood there, uncaring, when I fell on the gravel from weakness. Someone would help me up, at least, and care if I was frightenedcare that I had been in the way of bullets. Bullets, I tell you! Someone would ask if I was all right, did I need anything? It appeared to me that the general cordiality of things at home were a completely foreign concept here, for some reason... I was utterly distraught and fighting mad, due in part to their poor handling of the situation. I was ready to fight to the death, but I was not getting into the back of the police car .

At this pivotal moment, as the policemen stood there in suspicious disbelief at my lack of cheerful cooperation, Chief OMalley pulled up in his car, adding to the general melee of cars on the street. Whats going on here? Chief OMalley asked. What are you doing to Miss Talbot? He got out of his car, and came straight over to me. Are you all right, Miss Talbot? Have these men hurt you?

Im fine, thank you. Im none the worse for wear I said. No thanks to them! They are trying to put me in the pokey, Chief OMalley. I watched these policemen catching a bad man and they want to put ME in the back of their car, behind the fence! Locked up like a crook! Chief OMalley, you know I havent done anything wrong to anybody here in this whole entire huge city, and Im not going to get into this mans police car and be taken God knows where by God knows whom to answer to God knows what! I dont know them from Adam, or his brother , and Im not going with them in the back of a police car, like Im some criminal! What if they dont bring me back?

And that, my friends, was my greatest fear. What would Daddy do if they didnt bring me back? Would he come and get me? Or would he leave me here in this cold, godforsaken wilderness of city? And if Daddy didn't come, who could I call? The answer to that one was: No one. There wasn't one person in my life that would come and get me, if Daddy didn't.

I stood my ground, furious. I get really mad about once every five years, but then, it is Katie-Bar-the-Door. It would have taken several wild horses to drag me from that spot on the pavement. I had taken root, as they say. Danny grinned in delight. Knowing that Danny was supportive, and Chief O'Malley was there, I stood taller, and looked them in the eye.

Chief OMalley sketched a nod to Danny. Well, detective-- what did you say your name was? The detective mumbled something I couldnt really hear.

The Chief looked at their car, and the seal on it, pointedly. Arent you out of your jurisdiction? Well get her statement, and send it to you.

And that, was that. I was back among the Irish, where I belonged. The policemen, and the detective, got into their cars, turned off their lights, and left. I gratefully and gladly rode with Chief OMalley, in the front seat of his police car, an honored guest, to the station, and gave a detailed statement. He then, personally, brought me back to the well field, right up to my car, and smiled as I climbed in on top of my purse and briefcase. Thank you for your faith in me, I told him.

He laughed, The pokey! Just what is a pokey? he asked, and waved me on back to the hotel.

Thanks for coming by!