Spencerville

Clearly, none of the police wanted to confront their friends and neighbors under these circumstances, but neither did they want to be run off by a single irate citizen. It was sort of a standoff, and Keith wondered if he should give them a graceful way out, then decided they didn't deserve it. He said, "You have about ten seconds to get out of here."

Officer Ward retorted, "You got less than that before I cuff you."

"Five seconds." No one moved.

Keith turned to go into the church but realized he was surrounded, and, to get through the cordon, he'd have to push or jostle one of the cops, which is what they wanted. He said, "Get out of my way." They didn't.

Keith approached the policemen blocking his way to the church. They drew their nightsticks and extended their arms and legs.

Keith considered bucking through the line, fullback style, but the defensive line in this case had clubs and guns. Obviously, he was in as difficult a situation as they were, and no one wanted to make the first move.

Ward, behind him, said, "You're an asshole. You're also stupid."

Keith turned and stepped up to Ward. "Where's Baxter tonight? Getting another honor at the Elks Lodge?"

Ward said, "None of your business."

"I'll bet he's at the city council meeting covering his ass while you're out here putting your jobs on the line. And where are your sergeants? What a bunch of ball-less wonders you've got commanding you. Tell Baxter I said that."

Clearly, Keith had hit a nerve, because no one said anything, but then Ward felt obligated to reply and said, "You can tell him yourself, smart guy, when we bring you in."

"Then bring me in. Arrest me, or get out of my way." But they seemed inclined to do neither. Keith wondered how long that meeting was going to last.

After a few minutes of standoff, Keith decided to go for it. He turned toward the church and was about to buck the blue line when a voice called out, "What's going on here?"

From the direction of the small parsonage, a man approached, walking with a cane. As he got closer, Keith saw he was very old and finally recognized him as Pastor Wilkes.

The pastor, dressed in slacks, sport shirt, and tweed jacket, said again, "What's going on?"

Officer Ward replied, "It's under control, sir."

"That's not what I asked. What's going on?"

Ward didn't have a specific answer and didn't reply.

Pastor Wilkes walked through the cordon and stopped in front of Keith. "Who are you?"

"Keith Landry."

"Name sounds familiar. You with the group inside?"

"Yes, sir."

"Why are these policemen here?"

"You should ask them."

Pastor Wilkes turned to Officer Ward. "Did anyone call you here?"

"No, sir."

"Then why are you here?"

"To... provide protection and security."

"Sounds like hogwash to me, son. Please get off my property."

Ward looked at the other men and cocked his head toward the police cars. They walked off, but Ward stepped up to Keith and he said, "If I were you, I'd get my butt back to Washington. Fast."

"Don't forget to tell Baxter what I said."

"You can count on that, smart guy." Ward turned and left.

So, Keith thought, they knew he'd come from Washington, which was no surprise. He wondered what else they knew about him. But it didn't really matter, if he was leaving, though Cliff Baxter was inadvertently going out of his way to keep Keith Landry from doing that.

Pastor Wilkes said, "Do you have a minute?"

Keith considered, then said, "Yes."

Wilkes motioned Keith to follow him, and they walked toward the parsonage. Keith recalled that the last time he'd been in the parsonage, when he was eighteen, he'd gotten a lecture from Pastor Wilkes on the temptations of the world outside Spencer County, specifically the temptations of alcohol and sex at college. A lot of good it did him.

Chapter Sixteen

The parsonage was an old white clapboard structure built at the same time, and in the same style, as the hundred-year-old church.

Inside, Wilkes led Keith to the small sitting room and indicated a sagging armchair. Keith sat, and Wilkes sat opposite him in a rocker. Wilkes said, "I've got some sherry."

"No, thank you." Keith looked at Wilkes in the dim light. Keith had seen him a few times at weddings and funerals over the years, but it had been at least seven years since the last time. The man seemed to have shrunk and shriveled a little more each time.

Wilkes asked, "Why were the police here?"

"Writing down license plate numbers."

Wilkes nodded. He didn't say anything for a while, then looked at Keith. "You're George and Alma's boy."

"Yes, sir."

"Did I baptize you?"

"That's what they tell me."

Wilkes smiled and said, "Did I marry you?"

"No, sir. I've never married."

"That's right. You went off to the Army, then worked for the government."

"I went to college first. Bowling Green. You warned me about loose college women."

"Did it do any good?"

"Not a bit."

Wilkes again smiled, then asked, "Are you back to stay?"

"I don't think so."

"Why'd you come back at all?"

"To look after the house."

"Is that all?"