Luther lifted the notebook and waved it in the air. ‘Well, where is it? There’s nothing but a bunch of blank pages in this thing.’
‘I didn’t take anything down,’ Ben said.
‘Nothing?’ Luther said, astonished. ‘Not one goddamn word?’
‘No.’
Luther slapped the notebook down on his desk. ‘Then what are you giving me this thing for?’
‘I’m turning it in,’ Ben said suddenly, before he could catch himself.
‘Turning it in?’
‘Yeah,’ Ben said, this time more firmly. ‘I don’t want that assignment anymore.’
Luther’s eyes narrowed into two small slits. ‘Since when do you decide what your assignments are, Sergeant?’ he asked angrily.
Ben said nothing.
‘You realize how shorthanded we are?’ Luther asked.
Ben remained silent.
Luther stood up. ‘You have an official assignment,’ he said sternly. ‘I expect you to carry it out.’
Ben stared at him evenly. ‘No.’
‘I order you to carry it out.’
Ben shook his head.
Luther’s body tightened. ‘Turn in your badge, Sergeant Wellman.’
For a moment Ben hesitated. He had never faced anything more sweeping in its cause or transforming in its result, and for an instant he tried to find a way around it. But he felt his hand around the pen again, stark and inanimate, and he knew that he could never make it move across the page.
‘Your badge, Sergeant,’ Luther repeated.
Ben slowly pulled the badge and identification folder from his jacket pocket. It felt heavy, as if everything he had were attached to it. Once again he hesitated. Then he lowered it to the table and let it go.
Luther glanced at it quickly, then looked at Ben. ‘Don’t expect a good recommendation from this department,’ he said coldly. ‘As far as I’m concerned, you’ve deserted under fire.’
THIRTY-FOUR
Esther was sitting quietly on her porch when Ben pulled the car up in front of her house and got out. Several hours had passed since he’d left Luther’s office, and during that time, he’d simply driven around the city, trying to come to terms with what he’d done. At first it had been a relief, a sudden throwing off of the worries which had been accumulating during the preceding days. He had walked out of the headquarters with his head in the air, driven the streets of Birmingham in a spirit of exhilarating liberation, and then, as evening fell, found himself once again in Bearmatch. Esther sat up slightly as Ben edged his way past the little wire fence and stood at the bottom of the stairs, his hat in his hand, his eyes fixed on the dark, silent woman who watched him warily from her chair.
‘You don’t have to worry about me showing up at your door again,’ Ben assured her quickly. ‘I’m not on Doreen’s case anymore.’ He smiled. ‘Fact is, I’m not on any kind of case.’
Esther continued to stare at him mutely, her dark eyes trained on his face.
‘I sort of quit, I guess,’ Ben said. ‘Or got fired.’
‘From the police?’ Esther asked.
‘Yes.’
‘How come?’
‘They had me doing things that I didn’t want to do.’
Esther shook her head. ‘Lord, if everybody did that, there wouldn’t be a soul left working in Birmingham.’
‘I guess so,’ Ben said with a slight smile. ‘Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that I was off her case, and that’s all I came to say.’ He started to turn back toward the car, but her voice drew him around to her again.
‘Who’s looking into it, then?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Probably nobody.’
Ben nodded. ‘You could be right about that.’
‘So it’s all over then,’ Esther said. She fanned her face with a white handkerchief. ‘I didn’t think it’d come to much.’
‘I tried, Miss Ballinger,’ Ben said. ‘I surely tried.’
‘You think Bluto did it?’ Esther asked him pointedly. ‘You think he had the sense for it?’
Ben looked at her evenly. ‘Maybe the sense to do it,’ he said. ‘But not the meanness.’
‘So you don’t think he killed Doreen?’
‘I don’t know who killed her,’ Ben admitted. ‘I don’t have any idea at all.’ He shook his head mournfully. ‘I don’t guess you believe that,’ he said softly. ‘I don’t guess there’s any way to make you believe it.’
For the first time, her eyes seemed to embrace him gently, almost lovingly, as if to do the work her arms could never do.