The Day The Tigers Broke Free

By Ken Au

In a small town, a seventeen-year-old Chinese boy is found dead. An obvious suicide, say the police, and the family is left to grieve. Enter Charlie Kee, a relative and investigative reporter in from New York for the funeral. There are suspicious circumstances about the death and his questions stir up a lot of hate between him and the police chief, and with the local boys. But a skilled and relentless investigator, he picks up on the clues. And he is a man with a past that simmers hot and cold in his mind. What he uncovers stokes the fire of those emotions and throws him headlong into a tumultuous clash with hatred, with himself, and with Ann, a beautiful psychologist, who is journeying through emotions of her own.

This novel is a blend of action and drama centering around the investigation of a crime while exploring the issues of life and death, racism, the human condition. Charlie, with his cold exterior, is himself volatile like his enemies, and it is a thin line that divides them, one that only God might sort out as they come to an explosive climax.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ken Au
• Release date: Dec 14, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301603527

Ken Au

Ken Au first started writing short stories, although unpublished. Among his careers he has been a computer programmer and a graphic production artist, as well as having served three years in the army.

Book preview

Chapter 1

The sun rose over a bed of trees. Here in Texas was the town of Angelo, a pretty little setting of quiet streets. Cars were beginning to move through the small town, neighbours out watering their lawns. A set of railway tracks ran like some silent passerby glimpsing God's country.

David Cheng sometimes looked at those tracks going off into the horizon, and he would fantasize about travelling over earth and sea through every city, state, and country. He did not long to be worldly, it was simply the fire that burned within a seventeen year old boy, that restlessness which is so pervasive. If he could he would fly, not in a plane, simply fly. He could look down on all things, those that shocked and disturbed him, those that were dear to his heart, and he would be high above it all and none of it could touch him.

In the fall there was the prospect of going to college. What mysteries and promises laid there? And he would be on his own for once to live and die by his own opinions. A welcome challenge. At home, with his mother, and his grandparents who lived with them since his father died five years ago, he just felt too cared for.

David had always been diligent growing up. In grade school he enjoyed doing his work and did it well. His mother was very pleased with him, he was never any trouble. When he was twelve, David had planned to become a doctor. It was an ambition he had taken on quite by impulse rather than by calling. His mother had come home from the doctor's office one day and she talked about that young man's intelligence and exquisite charm. It was only natural that David likened to this talk of doctors and impulsively revealed then that he had been planning all along to be a doctor. After such a bold statement it became his resolution.

But nothing wears heavier than time. At seventeen, the idea was like a marriage grown old and routine, too familiar for divorce. A medicine degree was a long way off and David never thought about it much anymore. Lately, his mind tended to wander. He imagined frivolous things the way a schoolgirl doodles in her book. When he dreamed at night it was without ideals or spectacular ideas. There was indifference where there was once enthusiasm.

He searched for satisfaction on newer playgrounds. On the wall of his bedroom there was a red banner with Chinese words scribbled in gold. His mother had told him that they meant happiness or good fortune. How elusive was that magical land. The road was long and winding, and only if he could have known that happiness was not a destination. And the way lurked with shadows.

A line of headlights sparkled in the sun as they followed the lead car slowly up the street and through the cemetery gates. The morning was bright and wonderfully air-fresh, the kind that is radiant in colour, where everything seems right with the world, where life has a rosy glow on its cheeks, the kind that magnifies your sorrow and makes you feel like crying. They laid down David Cheng and gathered around him. It was a small crowd of family and friends, a few students who had known him at school. The cemetery, with its smell of lilacs and flowered landscape seemed, however tragically, a most serene and beautiful place.

Charlie Kee stood alone in the back. He was a formidable figure there apart from the others in a dark suit and steely-eyed expression. He had the look of one impassively filled with cynical and bitter thoughts.

He knew none of these people very well except for David's mother and grandparents. It was five years ago when he had last seen them, though he had spoken to them by letter. They lived here in Angelo, a short drive outside of Houston, while he lived in New York, so they never saw each other very often except on visits, though at one time they were very close. David's mother, Susan, was his cousin. She was ten years older than him. When they were very young living in New York she used to babysit him and his younger sister. Whenever his Uncle Lee used to visit she would always be with him. And later, Charlie had been good friends with her husband, Jim, when he was alive. Now, it broke Charlie's heart to see her here like this once again.

The white casket adorned with flowers was a beautiful centerpiece. There was a man's fifteen minutes of fame, Charlie thought. And was anyone really listening to this minister? Anything he had to say was cliche.

He looked over at Susan to catch her expression; she was motionless and her eyes were dry. They had that vacant look the way they sometimes are when grief overcomes the mind. But though she was silent he could feel her anguish screaming. She wore a white dress, the traditional funeral colour of the Chinese. Her choice but not rigidly observed here.

Charlie had only briefly seen David at rest. He had taken a flight in early this morning and had gone to the funeral home straight from the airport. His uncle had greeted him there but he had only glimpsed Susan momentarily. He would have arrived last night if he could have but his job back in New York as an investigative reporter for a newspaper forced him to meet deadlines.

David had apparently committed suicide. He had been found in the back of his school with a gunshot to his head. There was a half flask of rum in his hand and a .32 revolver, said the authorities. They found marijuana in his pocket.

The news came as a big shock to Charlie, for David had almost been like a little brother to him the way they bonded together all those years. David used to confide in him.

As Charlie listened to the minister talking of God and of a better place he felt his grief being replaced by anger. How could this happen to a young boy with his whole life ahead of him? Was there no power that could have stopped it? He blamed God. Yes, He was responsible. But he could not reach out and punish God. He could not even argue with Him the injustice of it all. Everything was fair to God for the sake of His own purpose. That was a hell of a plan.

After the casket was lowered, the people started to move and separate, and he caught their faces. The elderly Chinese seemed to have that resigned look of the experienced mourner. There were a few young people there, English, teenagers around the same age. He also noticed a young woman with long, dark brown hair. She was very professional looking in a business jacket and skirt. He did not know any of their relationships to David. He glimpsed their faces and forgot them.

They began filtering away to their cars and Charlie's uncle came up to him. Kee Lim Lee was an aging man of seventy, but like some, he wore it well. He walked straight and he thought clearly, and there was still a trace of fire in his eyes. In his younger days that fire could blaze like a dry forest on a hot night. He was a wise man, he knew the ways of the world. He had seen much, much pain included. He had managed to immigrate to America in his younger days, and with his strong will and keen sense, he had prospered. He grasped Charlie by the arm, drawing his attention. They stood side by side and stared ahead.

Your father's well? Lim Lee asked. He spoke in Chinese, the Cantonese dialect.

He's fine, Charlie said. His parents still lived in New York, as did he, and he was close to them and spoke to them regularly. You know my dad. He eats proper, never smokes, hardly ever drinks.

Ah! And a regimen like that should afford us a longer existence in this miserable world. He nodded his head in total agreement with himself. His brother, Ho Chin, was five years younger than him but was of a more delicate nature, such is the way of people who live too carefully. But Ho Chin was a gentler man. Did he get home safely? Lim Lee asked.

Yes, late last week, Charlie said. Their first trip back after all these years. Mum was excited. He thought he wouldn't recognize China now.

Lim Lee nodded again as if his brother was absolutely right to think that. He asked me to go but I said, 'What is there to see?' Your mother has family there.

Charlie knew his uncle well. He was a kindly man who knew how to enjoy life. But he was not the sentimental type. He took life head on. Any softness in him was simply his strength to be tender.

You don't care for such things, uncle, Charlie said.

He smiled. Who can forget the Old Country? We used to work the farms there. If a man is lucky he can work for fifty years and retire to a life of squalor.

It was never Lim Lee's destiny to succumb to that. He had known it as a boy of fifteen when the Chinese police beat him for stealing one rotten head of cabbage. He knew it when he beat senseless the hood who had taken his money for safe passage to America and had then shown him a wreck he would not dare sail in a shallow pond. But eventually he had managed to get legal papers that held the promise of a more prosperous life.

You're exaggerating, Charlie said, but still, it's a better life here. Not that he knew anything about the comparison. He was like any American, born and raised; affluently fortunate, and spoiled.

Well, his uncle said, better is a loose term. It's always better to be home, isn't it? He meant that even in the remotest reaches of dirt and hardship there was an attachment for one's home. The promise of emigration always travelled with ambivalence. There were those who wouldn't come over. They couldn't bear to leave the soil that broke their backs.

I guess it's intimidating, too, Charlie said, to try to make it in a foreign land. He added with the faintest trace of humour, But not for you, uncle.

Ah, he responded, it certainly wasn't easy. If the expected don't get you, the unexpected will. And here we are. You seem ragged. Did you get a chance to check into a room?

No, Charlie said. And I'd like to apologize for coming at the last minute. He felt some responsibility for being there to comfort Susan.

Nonsense. And you'll stay with us. How long will you be here? Are you busy?

I just finished a story before I came. There are no loose ends waiting for me. I have time.

Good. It'll be nice to have you here for awhile. You look extremely well.

Charlie was very fit with a strong and tapered body. Auntie said I was too skinny, he said.

And isn't that just like a Chinese woman? Lim Lee said. Always trying to feed you. She'll be happy to fuss over you. And how is life in New York? You're still in one piece, I see. He was referring to his job. Charlie often investigated crime and sometimes it was dangerous work. Nobody liked too many questions about their private affairs. Not that he worried for his nephew. Charlie could be pretty dangerous himself.

It's never dull, Charlie answered. It keeps me on my toes, at least. But this is no vacation. I could do without this.

You need to come back to the house and sit down. Rest. This has been overwhelming for us all.

Why is the sun shining on a day like this? Charlie said. Doesn't it know this isn't a damn picnic? I wish it'd rain.

Would that make you feel better?

Yes. Everything feels out of sync. He let out a heavy sigh. I'm trying to imagine what in the world happened here. How is Susan holding up? I didn't really get to see her this morning.

She was in the back room. I told her to rest, I thought she was looking a little weak.

She must be devastated.

Lim Lee thought back to the past few days. It's been terrible. And I don't mean that she's been in hysterics. More like an insanity. You know I would do anything for her. But it doesn't matter how strong you are, you can never be strong for other people. I mean, to take their pain. I'm counting on time. It's the only healer we've got, I've sidled up to it like a friend and praying for it to fly.

How did it ever come to this? I haven't seen David in awhile. What was going on in his life?

I'm sure you must have a hundred questions, Lim Lee said, and I wish I had a hundred answers. But I don't. Don't try to make sense of it now. There'll be plenty of time for that. He paused. You're a man who gets to the truth. I trust you'll do that before you leave. They exchanged glances, just for a second.

This is one hell of a decline for a teenage boy, Charlie said. Alcohol and drugs, there's a combination. He bought a one-way ticket to nowhere.

In front of them Susan Cheng stood overlooking her son's grave. She was perfectly still, staring off into nowhere, the fingertips of her hand held to her mouth. Then, in a sudden motion, Charlie saw her swoop down on one knee and begin picking at the ground. She uprooted and discarded to one side what seemed to be weed and some brown coloured grass. Her eyes were suddenly alive in this strange interest of hers and she meticulously worked the area at her feet. Lim Lee watched her also but he said nothing. And just as quickly as she started, she stopped. And again she was still.

Is she alright? Charlie asked. Her demeanour was unsettling.

His uncle said, Her husband is dead, now her son is dead, if she's alright there's something terribly wrong with her. He said all this sincerely, intending no sarcasm. But he reached out and patted Charlie on the arm. She will be alright, I think. They could all use a little reassurance right now.

Why doesn't she cry? Charlie said. He wished that she would cry, so he could see life behind her eyes. Perhaps then he could clear his own head and think straight.

Don't you see her crying? Lim Lee said sadly. She's drowning she cries so much. Saying this he went to his daughter. She did not notice him as he came up to her. He touched her gently on the arm and she looked over at him blankly. He turned her around, proceeded to guide her towards the car.

He went back to Charlie and found him lost in thought. Most of the people had cleared and were in their respective cars now. A gentleman and his wife passed by offering their condolences to Lim Lee. He took their hands and nodded in his usual way. He thanked the minister for his ceremony. He always looked at men of the cloth with intrigue though he had not had much need for them. Any man with so much faith in something unfounded was sublime in his own right.

Lim Lee spoke to him in his broken English. Rev'rend, you please come to house, have something to eat, something to drink.

Thank you, the minister said, that'll be nice. He could use a cup of tea but he also knew his presence was important; it was comforting. God's work was never done. Mr. Kee, if there's anything else I can do for you...

You already most helpful, he said. Please, you ride with us. Sit with my daughter. The minister said of course that he would.

Charlie stood alone at the edge of the grave. How did it feel to be sleeping the big sleep? he thought. In the morning he would not be waking up. How did it feel to have no more tomorrows?

He realized that he had been in a daze since his uncle had called him in New York with the news. It had come so unexpectedly. But then, if it had not been unexpected it should never have been allowed to happen. Still, he had not had a lot of time to sit and think it all over with his hectic activities back home and his rush to be here with them. But now that he was here he needed to get the story and to get it straight.

I don't understand what's happened here, he said, when his uncle came back to him. He brushed his fingers back through his hair and his eyes glinted razor sharp.

You have a car? his uncle asked. Come, let's go back to the house. We can have some tea. We'll talk.

Lim Lee took him by the arm. He had always liked this nephew of his. He was a very smart man, in that street sense, and he had the courage to go along with it. He led him to the road where their cars were parked.

Charlie drove alone following his uncle's car closely behind. It felt good getting out of that yard, it seemed brighter outside the gates. The drive was slow and effortless and for the first time Charlie's mind seemed to relax.

It was a nice town, he had been here before. Susan, and husband, Jim, had left New York so that he could take a job in Houston, and shortly thereafter had decided to buy a house in Angelo. Jim Cheng had owned a couple of houses in Houston as well. He had had an enterprising mind. They were rented out so they paid for themselves. He liked investing, he was always looking for ways to get the best return on his money. He dabbled in the stock market, as much as an amateur would dare. But he had died in a car accident.

Soon they pulled up to the house as did the other cars that were with their party. Inside, Lim Lee and his wife motioned to people to sit and relax. Charlie loosened his tie, looked out the window as he walked about wearily, casually browsed the walls. There were some pictures of the family on the mantel. David was young there, a very wholesome image.

Charlie said a soft hello to some of the people moving around him. A Chinese man and woman whom he was acquainted with shook his hand. They asked of each other's health.

No, please, he said, moving aside for them to sit, relax.

Mrs. Kee poured cups of tea and coffee and passed around trays of food. Everyone spoke quietly amongst themselves and Charlie took his cup and went over to the patio doors where he could look out into the yard.

He sipped his tea, half dreaming, half listening to the voices behind him. Someone said something about arthritis, another said the weather was nice. When finally he turned back towards the room, Susan was standing there beside him. Her face was like stone.

Charlie, she said weakly, why are you standing by yourself? Come and sit down. You should have something to eat. We have food. You should eat something. But she lost her train of thought as she was motioning over her shoulder.

Charlie placed his cup down and took her hand. I'm fine, he said. Don't worry about me. It was strange how people during such sad moments in their lives would be so concerned with offering social civilities to their guests. He tried to find his words, he was not sure how to begin. Susan, I'm so sorry, he said simply then. They spoke in English. They only spoke Chinese with their parents and with other Chinese elders.

She caressed his hand and held it tightly to her. David would have liked to have seen you. Thanks for coming. He thought the world of you, you know. Did you know that?

I cared about him, too.

After his father died he needed someone to look up to. You were good to him. She picked up his empty teacup then seemed quite confused as to what to do with it. Charlie took it from her.

How are you, Susan? Are you okay? he asked. And how was she supposed to feel, he thought, at a time like this?

Everyone has been worrying over me. Strangely, I don't feel much of anything.

He was not sure if that was good. And it was sure to pass. He squeezed her shoulder. Look far, far into the future, Susan. It's the only thing you can do. Charlie had the kind of presence that gave his words strength. It was as if he could command the moon and the stars when he spoke, and you could never doubt him.

She looked over his features. It hasn't been long, has it? We've only just heard from you. David got the watch you sent him for graduation. Thank you. He loved it.

You're welcome. It was nothing.

It meant a lot to him. He wore it all the time. Her expression lowered with her eyes. From you it was okay. From anyone else he would have said it was nothing. Things like that bored him.

So I've heard.

You know he was drinking then. And doing drugs. I always warned him about drinking and smoking, and staying out late and doing things like that. He was changing. That's what happens at that age. He liked going out all the time.

Drinking doesn't explain everything, Charlie said softly.

She shook her head. I don't know what he was thinking. He had a mind of his own and you couldn't tell him anything anymore. He knew what was best for himself. And where is he now? He got so messed up, this was the best he could think of to do. He should have asked me, I could have told him something better. But what could I do? I tried to be a good mother.

Of course, you were, Charlie said. Of course, you were. He was a very troubled boy.

He did not want her to get upset. He wanted to reassure her that it was not her fault. David, he thought, what dark hole had you fallen into? At seventeen, there was nowhere to go but up. And if only he could see the pain he had left behind.

Tell you the truth, Charlie said, I keep wishing that I could have been here. That maybe I could have done something.

Do you think so? she said, her eyes, near and distant. If you could have, that's a terrible burden to take on for yourself now. Don't do that to yourself.

He nodded into his cup. She was certainly right about that. But then, so was he, probably.

Did he ever say anything to you? he ventured to ask.

Her mind seemed lost. She shook her head slowly. No.

Did he leave anything behind? A note?

No.

Charlie was trying to find something that would help put the picture in focus. He thought over these things for a second. Susan held out her arms then and greeted a woman who came up to them. Charlie remembered her, with her long hair, he had seen her at the cemetery. They hugged, lingered closely as they spoke.

Thank you so much for being here, Ann.

Of course.

I know you must have been busy.

No, certainly not. I had to come.

Susan introduced Charlie to her. He's my cousin, she said. Charlie, this is Ann Learning. She smiled and said hello.

Pleased to meet you, Charlie said.

There are moments that cannot be explained. Charlie started to hold out his hand to her but first had to transfer the cup from it. It almost slipped from his fingers and so when he did get his hand out, Ann was at that same time turning to Susan, and although seeing his movement, indecisively did not react. He waited, then pulled his hand back. She turned quickly then and offered her hand to him. He hesitated, then gave it a curt tug and released it.

Ann is a psychologist, Susan told him. She works at David's high school.

Really. Now that he thought of it, she could fit that bill. More like a business woman in some glamourous field but there was the distinct gleam of sophisticated intelligence in her eyes. Or was that snobbishness?

I'm just there on contract for the year, Ann said.

I see.

I have a practice in Houston.

He nodded. A silence came between them. You must have gotten acquainted with David, did you? he threw in.

Yes, Ann said, I try to get acquainted with all the students.

All of them?

Well, as much as discussion periods will allow.

I see.

Silence again, but Susan saved them. She seemed very tired. I think I'll go upstairs for awhile, she said.

They both turned to her and asked if she was alright, peeked into her eyes and worried for her. But Ann had the experience to take control.

I'll take you up, Susan, she said. She gave Charlie an assuring nod.

She held her as they climbed the stairs, Susan walking quite abjectly. Charlie watched her and wondered about her state of mind. She did not look good. She had managed to keep it all inside so far, though she had to be grief stricken. But her face showed it all. David was not the only one who had died. Part of her was dead on the inside.

Charlie went back to the sliding doors and resumed looking out. His uncle came up behind him.

He said to his nephew, Whenever the men in this family stand alone to think, it is an ominous sight. He pushed the door open and ushered him out into the yard. A gentle breeze touched Charlie's face. It blew past him into the room, cooling the oppressive air that hung like melancholy.

They walked along the grass letting the sun warm them. Lim Lee folded his hands behind his back, paused now and then to casually examine his roses.

I'm an old man, he said, sighing heavily. How much more can I endure?

Charlie knew his uncle was being unduly reflective. Here was a man who would outlive them all. He waited to hear what his uncle had to say. He seemed to want to speak to him.

Have you talked with Susan? Lim Lee asked.

Yes, briefly.

I've lost a grandson, will I lose a daughter, too?

She's strong enough to get through this, I think, Charlie said. He was trying to be encouraging but even he did not believe his own words. She was like a small boat in a storm, struggling against the tide and sinking. But what about you? he asked, looking at his uncle now. You've been practically all alone here to keep everything together. He pictured his uncle taking control, making all the funeral arrangements.

I'm fine, he said. But it's good to have you here. Allow a tired man to lean on you. He raised his eyes to his and said with vivid memory, It was hardest the first day.

Charlie said impulsively, She saw David's body?

We both went to identify him, Lim Lee said. It was Saturday. She was very upset that morning because David had not come home from the night before. She was here waiting for him, fuming and pacing. It wasn't the first time he ever stayed out so she wasn't really worried. But when the police came to the door and she looked at them, she just stumbled back white as a ghost. She knew right then.

Lim Lee remembered how he had felt that day. How strange and intricate are the thought processes of the human mind. That a man can dream an entire dream in a second. That a twin can communicate with its twin without ever uttering a single word. And on that morning, with David's mother waiting impatiently for him to come home, with the anticipation of harsh words sure to come, with the expectation of David finally walking in to explain himself, Lim Lee had been quietly watching television when the strangest sound struck his ears. It was the sudden ring of the doorbell. And never was a sound so out of place and unexpected. A darkness went through him and he knew something terrible was about to unfold.

What did the police tell you? Charlie asked.

That a young man was found dead behind the school by a worker, he said, and that the school recognized him to be David. He wiped his hand across his brow. We drove to the morgue and all the way Susan was scared numb. But she shook all over and she kept saying, 'Maybe it's not him. Maybe they're mistaken.' But she knew it was him. She was so shaken she could hardly walk. I had to hold her up. A man took us into a room and he pulled out a drawer from the wall. She was worst of all then. But when she looked down and saw his face she just stopped and went stone cold.

Charlie listened imagining the horror she must have felt. The sight of her own son lying there must have been like a thousand volts through her heart.

I have yet to see her cry since that day, Lim Lee said. She's gone into shock. I'm afraid she will get sick. He shook his head sadly. So much grief in one life was surely not healthy.

And that arrogant ass! he said, now quite agitated. A mother's son dead and not an ounce of compassion. David must have rolled over the way he slammed that drawer shut. He was referring to the coroner, a balding man in his mid-fifties, overweight and overbearing, a man who had stopped caring for people, dead or alive. Lim Lee told him about the manner in which this man had spoken to them, very curtly and impatient. It angered him now but at the time it had been overshadowed by the tragedy of the moment.

But Charlie's anger was quick to rise as he listened to this. This was how he treated you? Like this? To Susan? How dare he? Not even in death was there dignity. He could not tolerate such disrespect. The road travelled behind him had been riddled with such indignities. And this is the same man who did the autopsy on David? He flinched at the thought.

For whatever it was worth, his uncle said. The case was open and closed. Like sweeping him under the rug. He waved his hand with disgust.

When Charlie had first heard about David's death, it had filled him with all kinds of questions. Now, according to his uncle there had been little or no investigation. A seventeen year old boy was found dead behind the school and the county coroner and the police combined could not raise a doubtful question or two? Did you talk to the police chief? he asked.

Lim Lee said bluntly, The police chief is a joke. It's almost better for us that he doesn't investigate.

Charlie shook his head. It just felt so disrespectful, even if there was nothing more to it. I mean, a dead boy behind the school, he emphasized. They couldn't look at that just a little more closely than they did?

His uncle agreed. He drew him a little closer. There were some peculiarities about the whole affair. And whether you were smart or stupid, you had to look at it with a curious eye. There were bruises on his neck, he said, pointing at his own to show him. I said to the chief, 'Doesn't that mean anything?' and he said, 'No, that means nothing.' Now, I ask you – nothing?

Nothing? Charlie repeated incredulously. Under the circumstances it could mean a lot. He was growing angrier by the minute. He bet if they had been a white family they would have gotten more consideration. He would not allow this. Not with David in his grave and his mother so distraught.

He reached up and ripped a leaf off the tree. He twirled it slowly by its stem as he seemed to be staring angrily here and there at nothing, his mind turning.

Where did David go that night? he asked.

Lim Lee said that he did not know. He said with mild sarcasm, Does any mother truly know where their children go at night?

Was he different in any way?

He had to think about this before answering. Change was a constant process in these young lives, that the abnormal quickly becomes the normal, and one never notices the fine line. On that day, he said, David had been restless after coming home from school but it seemed he was always restless. Did that mean anything?

Seventeen, Charlie said. That meant about as much as living and breathing.

Yes, Lim Lee said, and often very intense. It was like he was always in a hurry, like there was always a fire blazing somewhere and he had to get to it.

Then there was a fire blazing that night, Charlie said. Did any of you know he was drinking and doing drugs?

No, but it came as no great shock. He was rebellious like any other. You and I were both seventeen.

Lim Lee recounted that evening as they prepared for dinner. David could have little patience for his mother when he was in that kind of mood. It seemed she simply did not understand anything. They had been talking about a runaway boy on the news. It was just hard luck, David had argued. Did that mean everything was his fault? These things were not always black and white. But as far as his mother was concerned, it was.

It always made David snippy to not have his side understood. To stoke the fire then, he further pursued such argumentative conversation. He talked of Europe and of how he was thinking of maybe going there to see it. Of course, his mother said that he was not old enough to take care of himself. How that had made him stutter and stammer.

That was David. It brought out the fire in him, his fierce insistence to do as he saw fit. When his mother needed something from the top shelf, she suggested he use the step ladder. Not necessary, he grumbled, and he used the edge of a pail for balance instead. He didn't need it, he said irritably, shaking on one foot, his fingers stretching high above him. He wasn't stupid, he said, just before the pail tipped. Cut his arm on an edge coming down. But it gave him something to yell about. If only he hadn't been distracted! After dinner when his mother asked him where he was going, he said nowhere.

Charlie let out a tired breath, watched the grass growing on the ground. So he went off drinking and he can't stand the frustrations anymore, he thought out loud. What else happened? he asked no one.

No one answered him but it gave his wheels time to turn a little more. He tried to get his thoughts in order, making a mental note of everything that his uncle had told him. There were a lot of blanks and he intended to fill them.

His eyes narrowed as he thought of the authorities his uncle had mentioned. He was not sure of what to make of them yet but they were under his skin. Uncle, he said, when was the last time you've been spoken to so rudely?

His uncle just shook his head, seemed rather weary.

Charlie patted him on the shoulder then straightened up. I think I'd like to see the police report, he said decisively. He wondered what kind of specific details were in it. There was something else he wanted to know. By the way, do you own a gun?

His uncle looked at him. Yes, he said. He knew where he was going with it. But I still have it. It's not missing.

Then where did David get a gun to? Just