an inscription on his legal pad.
Stan and I answered his ring. The cop bent and squinted through the dark screen.
âIâm looking for Mr. Charles Witcher.â
âHeâs not here,â my brother said.
âStan!â Pop called, admonishing him. He swung from the sofa, where heâd rearranged himself after spotting the cop through the window, and invited the officer in.
He turned down the volume on the TV (he was watching As the World Turns ) and turned to the cop with a cocky grin. He didnât offer a seat or anything, he just grinned. Meanwhile I studied his sandy curls and his red mechanic paws rakishly placed upon his hips and wondered what he was going to do. (Stan and I had inherited Popâs hair and not, for which we were thankful, Momâs orange tangles.) Pop was magnificent, but what made him magnificent was too obscure to understand, exactly. His smile made you an accomplice in mischief that never happened; or you might find yourself laughing at things he said without knowing why. It was always hard to tell whether he was being charismatic, or simply hollow.
The cop introduced himself as Reedy. âI hear you and Mr. Kellner got in a scrap,â he said. You could see in his eyes that he was already taken by Pop. My father had that redneck charm so vital to the design of the South. But it only worked on ladies and cops.
âHas Kellner swore out a complaint?â
âNo sir, Iâm just following up on what I heard.â
âAm I in trouble?â
âNo sir, I just want to make sure everything remains peaceful.â
âGiving me a warning, huh?â
âIâm not taking sides. I just want to know if thereâs anything I can do to help you and Mr. Kellner be civilized with each other.â
âKeeping the peace?â
âYes sir.â
Pop nodded distrustfully. He had the mountain manâs suspicion of the badge. He kept out of trouble with the law, and he had taught us not to believe in cops. âDonât mess with âem, donât call âem. You get in trouble you can get out of it withoutâem.â
Now he said, âBoys, disappear.â
My brother and I hesitantly headed to our room, with no option but to chart the progress of the conversation through the walls and windows.
The men meandered out to the yard. They kept looking at the roof of the house as though they were discussing home improvements, but it was just one pair of eyes wandering off and the other pair following. Popâs shirt was undone two or three buttons, disclosing his softening chest. His bulging forearms and pinched elbows made me think of Popeye.
We heard the big bedroom door creak open and ran to the hallway. Mom was stepping out, one-eyed from her nap.
âWhoâs your father talking to?â
âThe police,â we said.
âGood Lord, what now?â She came and peeked out the window.
Pop was dominating Reedy. He had his arm around the copâs shoulder, and he kept poking his chest, making points.
âWhat does he want?â Mom said.
âSays he came as a peace officer,â Stan said. âOld man Kellner snitched. Iâm gonna kick his ass for that.â
âYou watch it,â Mom said. âLook whoâs in our yard, thatâs what kicking someoneâs ass does. And stop saying âass.ââ
We watched Pop usher Reedy to the patrol car. After the cop got in he sat and wrote in his pad for a while.
When Pop entered the house we filed into the living room.
âShhh,â he said.
We waited until Reedy started the engine and moved the cruiser away.
âSays he wants to keep the trouble between me and Kellner from escalating.â Pop winked. âLetting me know heâs got my number.â
âWhatâs that mean?â my mother said.
âHeâs Johnny-on-the-spot, thatâs all. Through with your nap? Iâm hungry.â
âWhatâs he going to