Page 125 of Whistle

Because you’re some kind of fucking freak.

That wasn’t going to fly.

But Harry definitely wanted it out of the house. It didn’t matter what Janice had paid for it. That set was never going to be opened, never going to be played with. After Janice went to work, Harry put the set in the trunk of his cruiser and drove straight to the Lucknow Municipal Waste Facility, which was a fancy name for a dump. It sat five miles out of town off the road that led to Bennington.

He came up to the manned gate, flashed his badge at the attendant so as to give the impression that he was here on official business and avoid the fee, and entered the facility. When he was out of the attendant’s sight, he stopped, got out, opened the trunk, and picked up the box, all the pieces still carefully packaged inside.

While birds circled overhead, Harry walked it over to the edge of an enormous pit of trash and, swinging this arms three times to work up some momentum, pitched the set into the air. It sailed in along arc before dropping into the middle of dozens of green garbage bags. Harry wanted to be sure it was too far away to tempt anyone to wade in after it. The box had landed face down, hiding the plastic windows revealing the treasures within, so it wouldn’t be obvious to any dump scroungers what it was. Soon all this would be bulldozed over. Harry slapped his palms together, as though he’d actually had to touch some of that trash, returned to his car, and drove out, feeling a weight lifting off his shoulders as he got back onto the highway and headed for the Lucknow Community Center, stopping for take-out coffee and donuts along the way.

“Ooh, a cream-filled,” Susie said, reaching into the box. “I don’t know what kind of favor you’re looking for, but if there’s also a lemon one in here, and you want me to sleep with you, the answer’s yes.”

“Last I heard, Susie, you were playing for the other team,” Harry said.

“Doesn’t matter. We’re talkin’ donuts here. What is it you want?”

She and Harry were sitting at a picnic table out back of the community center. Harry had dropped by and suggested they leave her office to discuss a proposal.

“That Mr. Nabler who came to see you about doing something community-minded? Buying uniforms for the kids or whatever?”

“Yeah?”

“I think you should have some further discussions with him about it.”

Susie’s eyes narrowed. “Okay,” she said, drawing the word out. “And why would I do that?”

“As a favor to me. And I’d like you to suggest he come out around, say, seven this evening. He closes his shop at five. That gives him time for dinner, and then he could come out here.”

“And I’m supposed to say what, exactly?”

“How much detail did you get into when he came out the first time?”

“Not a lot. I told him I’d give it some thought.”

“Have you done that yet?”

“Nope.”

“Think you could?”

“I could pull together some prices for him. Like, if he wanted to spend a thousand, we could do this, and if he wanted to spend five thousand, we could do that. Something along those lines.”

“That sounds perfect,” Harry said.

“Uh, Harry, why are you trying to stick it to a guy who’s showing an interest in making a contribution? Dude wants to give back and you’ve got a problem with that?”

“I think it’s an act. He’s burnishing his image. Wants to look like a fine, upstanding citizen.”

“But he isn’t?”

“That’s what I’m trying to determine. Look, if this guy’s really on the up-and-up, no one’ll be happier than me.”

“What do you think he’s done, Harry?”

He just smiled.

“How long you want me to keep him here?”

“Think you could charm the pants off him for an hour?”

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