Saving Room for Dessert (7 page)

After Reseta removed the nylon strap, the boy started to stand, and Reseta said, “Watch your head. Here, let me help you out,”
and he reached behind the boy, grabbed the links between the cuffs and jerked upward hard, while faking another slip on the
imaginary oil.

“Ow! You’re doin’ that on purpose, you … you …”

“On purpose? Me? Oh no, I swear,” Reseta said. “It’s this oil here, I slipped.”

“There’s no oil there, you’re makin’ that up, I know what you guys do—”

“You guys?
Oh no, it’s a dangerous condition here, I’m gonna have to report it to my superiors. Somebody could get hurt. Accidents happen,
you know? Like when we get inside I could slip again. My shoes, you know, they could just, with this oil on ’em, they could
shoot straight out on me, and we could both fall. Me on top, you on the bottom. I read about accidents like that all the time,
don’t you? Or maybe you think that only happens to other people, huh? Like Timothy Miscovitz, you know? Stupid people? People
that smell? Clumsy people, people that trip and fall a lot, you know? Poster boys for abortion? But I’ll try to be real careful
from now on, I promise. I’ll wipe my shoes real good on the mat by the door there. C’mon, Joseph, let’s take care of this
paperwork, then you can call your mommy—I mean your lawyer.”

“I’m gonna tell her everything you did and everything you said, all you fuckers’re gonna be workin’ for us—”

“’Cause of what you’re gonna tell her? Oh no, Joseph, see, we already work for you—you didn’t know that? Yeah. We work for
you, we work for your mommy, your daddy. We also work for Timmy Miscovitz’s family. We’re public servants—you didn’t learn
that in civics class? C’mon, watch your step, I don’t want you goin’ face-first into these steps out here.”

“Ow! You’re hurtin’ my arms pullin’ ’em up like that!”

“Ooh, did that hurt? And here I was just tryin’ to make sure you didn’t fall. I think I’m gonna have to discuss this with
my training officer, Joseph, we might have to come up with another way to assist people like you up steps, you know?”

Inside the station, Reseta spotted Chief Nowicki going down the hall to his office. “Hey, Joseph, you’re in luck, c’mon, I’m
gonna introduce you to the chief. I want you to tell him how all of us are gonna be workin’ for you and your family. I think
that’s somethin’ he should know about, and I think he should hear that right from you, whattaya say?”

Reseta led the boy into the chief’s office and said, “Chief, I know you’re busy, but whatever you’re doin’, it’s gonna have
to wait, ’cause I have some really important news for you.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” Nowicki said. He’d been dialing the phone but dropped it back into its cradle and gave Joseph Maguire
the once-over.

“First, I want to introduce Joseph Maguire here. Joseph, this is Chief Nowicki. He’d be happy to shake hands, Chief, except
he can’t right now ’cause he’s wearin’ my cuffs. And the reason he’s wearin’ them is because I arrested him for assault and
aggravated assault against a fellow student in the Rocksburg Middle School, for which I have brought him to the station here
to book him.”

“I see,” Nowicki said.

“But first, I wanted you to hear from his mouth how we’re all gonna be workin’ for the Maguire family—we bein’ you and me
and everybody else in the department, right, Joseph? You did mean everybody, right?”

The boy looked for a moment as though he was going to spit on Reseta. Apparently something made him think better of that.

Nowicki folded his arms and rocked back in his chair. “But, Patrolman, we already work for his family, all of us, so what’s
the lad tryin’ to say—that we have to assume other duties? Just for his family? Obviously, I’m missin’ somethin’ here, there
must be unusual circumstances—which you’re gonna tell me about, right?”

“Yes sir. Seems young Joseph here believes I was somewhat too strenuous in my arrest and detention and restraint of his person.
Did I mention his mother’s a lawyer?”

“No, Patrolman, you were remiss in that. Interesting. Your mommy’s a lawyer, huh, Joseph?”

“And his daddy’s a doctor.”

“Oh really? Say, that is impressive. But I have to tell ya, Joseph, not that I know all the lawyers in town here, or all the
doctors either—but, uh, I don’t believe I’ve had occasion to do any legal or medical business with your parents, but maybe,
just to be on the safe side, maybe the patrolman and I should, I don’t know, say tomorrow maybe? Whattaya think, Patrolman,
tomorrow, we go to the young lad’s house—where would that be, Joseph?”

“Lives in Maplewood. One twenty-three Elm.”

“Ohhhh, Maplewood. Very nifty part of town, very classy. I’m familiar with that street, very spiffy houses there. Well, Joseph,
I’m sure your father and mother have at least two cars, probably more, and they probably need to be washed, maybe need the
tires rotated, the oil changed—whattaya say, Patrolman? Tomorrow we go out there, we wash the cars, cut the grass maybe, trim
the hedges, clean the gutters—’bout that time of year, right, spring cleanup? You up for that?”

“Yes sir, I am. Be only too happy, I mean since we already work for the family.”

“Absolutely.” Nowicki leaned back in his chair and gave the boy a large smile. “But first, I think you probably need to book
the lad, and then maybe you should take him down the juvey center, file the proper petition—what was that you said he did
again? Violate the statutes prohibiting assaults against other persons, is that what you said?”

“Yes sir.”

“Well then by all means we need to follow the rules of criminal procedure exactly. I mean the last thing we want, we wouldn’t
want his mommy to think we’d been lax in our duties—in our normal duties as their employees, certainly not in a matter as
serious as the arrest and detention of her charming son. And now if you’ll excuse me, Joseph, I have some calls to make. But
while I’m at it, I’ll be happy to call your mommy the lawyer, or your daddy the doctor, just give me their numbers. I’m required
to do that, you know, but, hey, it’d be my pleasure, I’d be happy to do it.”

The boy dropped his chin toward his chest and said under his breath, “Kiss my ass.” It was loud enough so that both Nowicki
and Reseta heard him.

“Ah, the lad’s got a great future,” Nowicki said.

“I told him he’d be in the U.S. Senate before he was forty.”

“Absolutely. Couldn’t agree more. But maybe you should interrupt his career long enough to book him, huh?”

“Be my pleasure, sir. Come along, Joseph, we need to get your fingerprints, take a couple pictures, make sure you’re properly
logged in to our humble facility here. If you want, you could think of it as just a sort of an orderly room for the servants
on your, uh, on your parents’ plantation.”

Reseta led the boy into the duty room, parked him in a chair next to a desk, unlocked one of the cuffs and locked it to the
arm of the chair, then put his pistol in a gun safe in the desk, and sat down and logged on to the computer on that desk.
He filled out the booking sheet on the computer screen, then printed several copies, folded one and stuck it in Joseph’s shirt
pocket, and put the others in a new manila folder in the bottom desk drawer.

“I love computers, don’t you, Joseph? Make everything so much easier, so much quicker. Jeez, just six years ago, this would’ve
taken, I don’t know, probably a half hour. I could never get the typewriter to line up right with the forms, you know? And
the copyin’ machine was broken more than it worked, but no more, uh-uh, now it’s hit a coupla keys, and bingo, there’s your
bookin’ sheet.

“Okay, Joseph, stand up,” Reseta said, hauling the boy up by his arm but stopping suddenly when the boy cried out. “Oooh,
did that hurt? Man, I don’t know what’s the matter with me, I forgot you were still cuffed to the chair there, how could I
not remember that, huh?”

“You didn’t forget, you bastard, you did that on purpose, you wait till my mother gets here, you just wait.”

“Well, while I’m waitin’, c’mon, let’s take some pictures, and then we’ll take your prints, and then we’ll check R and I—or
maybe I should check that first, maybe we already got real recent pictures of you. Sit down, take a load off,” Reseta said,
pushing the boy down hard in the chair.

“Oh did that hurt? Woo, I’m sorry. See, I slipped again. I knew that oil was gonna be a problem. Apparently I didn’t get it
all off. And you know what else? I forgot to report it to my chief. Oh, he’s not gonna be happy with me about that. But you
just sit tight here, Joseph, I’ll be right back.”

Reseta started to walk toward that part of the duty room where the paper files were kept, but stopped and called to the civilian
dispatcher working the radio, former sergeant Vic Stramsky.

“Hey, Vic, wanna do me a favor?”

“What’s that, James?”

“If this young lad here tries to steal that chair or those handcuffs that are attached to it, you be sure and call nine-one-one
for me, okay?”

“Absolutely.”

Joseph Maguire squinted at Reseta and then rolled his eyes and groaned.

“Little police humor there, Joseph. See, couple years ago that wasn’t even funny, that was serious, ’cause we weren’t hooked
up to the nine-one-one system. We just got hooked up into it, like what, Vic, I don’t know, three years ago, right?”

“Right.”

“The lad’s not laughin’, Vic. I guess you have to be us. Did I mention, Vic, the lad’s mommy is a lawyer? And she’ll be comin’
in soon, you’ll get to meet her, I’m lookin’ forward to meetin’ her myself, ’cause he thinks when she gets here, we’re all
gonna be workin’ for her and him and his daddy, the doctor.”

“You mean we ain’t all workin’ for ’em already?”

“Apparently not. Or if we are, we’re doin’ a crummy job.”

Reseta found nothing on Joseph Maguire in the paper records. He came back to the computer and made a show of slapping his
forehead. “What am I thinking, Joseph, you know? Do you know what I’m thinking, huh? Sometimes, I swear, if my butt wasn’t
attached to the bottom of my back it’d fall off and I’d lose it. You couldn’t’ve been busted before you were ten, were you,
Joseph? I don’t believe that. And since we’ve only been usin’ e-records since ’96, I gotta believe I’ll find you right in
here.”

Reseta typed in the boy’s name and hit Enter and waited. Nothing. “Entry not found.”

“Something’s not right here, Joseph. I would’ve bet a month’s pay you’d been through the system before. You wouldn’t be givin’
me a phony name, would ya? You that crafty?”

Reseta typed an e-mail to the Pennsylvania State Police Registry, asking for ID confirmation, photos, and fingerprints of
Joseph Francis Maguire, but received no response.

“Hey, Vic, you know anything about the state computers? I’m tryin’ to confirm an ID here, I get nothin’. Last time I got nothin’
like this, they were down for a whole weekend.”

“I didn’t hear nothin’. Call Troop A, that’s all I know.” Reseta picked up a phone, called Troop A, and got the news that
the state police computers were indeed down for routine maintenance and would be down for another twelve hours at least.

Reseta hung up and glared at the boy. “I’m gonna ask you again. What’s your name?”

“Told ya.”

“Tell me again.”

“Joseph Maguire.”

“What’s your middle name?”

“Francis.”

“What grade are you in?”

“I forget.”

“Who’s your homeroom teacher?”

“I forget.”

“What’s your father’s first name?”

“I forget.”

“Now you know the state computer’s down, you lost your memory, didn’t ya?”

“Never had a memory.”

“Alright, wise guy, let’s get your pictures, get your prints, get you outta my life—at least till tomorrow.”

Reseta unlocked the cuff attached to the chair, stood the boy up, backed him against a bare, white wall and made him stand
there until he got the booking information on the photo board, then used a Polaroid to take front and profile mug shots. After
the photos developed, he put them in the same folder he’d put the booking sheet. Then, always keeping the boy in his view,
he went looking in several desks until he found a print pad and forms, filled out a form, and took the boy’s prints, putting
that form in the same file folder in the same drawer as he’d put all the previous. He dropped the print pad on top of the
folder, shoved the drawer shut with his foot, and took the boy to the john and watched him wash the ink off his hands.

Then he cuffed the boy’s free wrist to the other one and took him back into the duty room, where he retrieved his pistol from
the gun safe, holstered it, and hustled the boy toward the door.

“I’m takin’ this one down the juvey center, Vic. Maybe somebody there knows him.”

“Hey I wouldn’t dawdle, Rayford’s havin’ more fun with the U.N.”

“Already? Jesus. Those people made him crazy yesterday. Good God … c’mon, whatever-your-name-is, let’s find out if anybody
knows you.”

Whatever-his-name-was was suddenly acting as though he didn’t have a care in the world.

U
NTIL HE’D
poured and drunk his first coffee from his own vacuum bottle, Rayford didn’t even drive within two blocks of the United Nations,
staying off the entire lengths of Bryan Avenue and Jefferson and Franklin streets. Then he waited another half hour before
driving past the Scavellis’ house on Franklin.

In the meantime, he’d been listening to B.B. King’s latest CD on his portable Sony and checking out the radio traffic, such
as it was, between Reseta and Canoza and civilian dispatcher Vic Stramsky. Reseta had caught a kid fight at the Rocksburg
Middle School, and Canoza was trying to pop the lock on some lady’s Toyota in the Giant Eagle lot. Canoza’d need some good
luck. Toyota locks were tough. Rayford had stood next to a locksmith for twenty-two minutes once while he tried to pop the
lock on his ’87 Toyota. Watched him use about a dozen different Slim Jims before one worked.

But otherwise, it’s beautiful so far, Rayford thought. Let’s let it stay this way, people. Let us aaaaall remember a slightly
different version of the immortal words of the prophet Rodney King: let us aaaaaall continue to get along. Lock your keys
in your cars, tha’s awright. Beat on your little school buddies, that’s awright too. Bend some fenders, the babies of bodymen
need shoes too. But let us do no real harm, people, Polish, Eye-talian, Russian, Ukrainian, whatever your flavor, let us looooooove
one another, every-got-damn-body say a-men and hal-ay-fuckin’-lu-ya, awwwwright.…