Maximum Bob

Neither of them moved lying face-to-face in coarse grass, one of his legs over hers, Kathy listening. There were no sounds now, not even insects. She tried to concentrate and picture exactly what she saw in the window as the second pane of glass exploded: a glimpse of movement that could have been a man, there for part of a moment and gone.

She heard the judge say, “Jesus Christ,” in a whisper and saw the stu

What Elvin did was lose his concentration for a minute sipping the Jim Beam, comparing it to what he used to drink at Starke, the shine they called “buck” and wasn’t any stronger than wine, about fourteen percent, tasted awful but did the job. That recalled the smells and noise living in a cellblock, the same dirty walls in your face all the time, and he stepped to the kitchen window not thinking till he saw them outside, right there, through his own reflection and the glass broke, Jesus, as he looked at it, woke up and ducked aside as the glass kept breaking, glass flying, Jesus, somebody shooting at him!

Elvin left the way he had come, ran down the gravel drive crunching under his boots to Dale’s pickup and drove out of there, none of it making sense till he was back on familiar ground, on Southern Boulevard heading east and had time to think.

To realize, no, it couldn’t have been the judge shooting, it was somebody else back in the yard shooting at the judge, not him. And thought of what he’d said to Dr. Tommy about having to get in line. Like a Canal Point turkey shoot, load up and wait your turn.

And if all the shots did was hit the window, then the judge was still game. That was a relief.

Coming to Military Trail, Elvin saw the lights of the Polo Lounge off to the left. Last time he was in there it was called Flounders. He bet though they’d still pour you a Jim Beam if you asked.

14

All Kathy had to tell the 911 operator, it was Judge Gibbs’s house and the first green-and-white arrived within five minutes. After that they kept coming, more green-and-whites at first and a road patrol sergeant who spoke to Kathy and told her to stick around. The judge wasn’t saying much at this point, still dazed, having another drink. Pretty soon unmarked cars began arriving, the recognizable ones from the Detective Division and Technical Services, then different makes and models, people from TAC, some Sheriff’s Office brass and the sheriff himself, Gene B. Givens, a man about fifty with a slight build. He wore a straw cattleman’s hat and seemed quiet, nodding as detectives told him what had happened. By now every light in the house was on, the backyard was bright with squad-car headlights and spots and farther out flashlights were moving around in the dark. In the kitchen evidence techs were looking for the bullets. Kathy noticed the pizza carton and thought it strange they’d bring food with them.

She settled into a lawn chair on the porch, she thought out of the way. But now the judge came out with his drink, Sheriff Gene Givens, who looked like a sheriff, and a heavyset middle-aged guy wearing glasses they called Bill or Colonel McKe

Get a look at the girl who was with the judge. They’d all been doing that. Another point of interest, the hole the alligator had made.

A deputy came in with the glasses they’d dropped in the yard, holding them upside down, his fingers inside. Gibbs said, “All you’ll get off of them are my prints. And hers, Ms. Baker’s.” Acknowledging Kathy for the first time.

McKe

“I’ve been trying to tell you, the guy was shooting at the house, not at me.”

Changing his tune. Lying flat on the ground he believed someone was trying to kill him. But since then he’d had a few more drinks.

Sheriff Gene Givens said, “Bob might have a point.”

“Some nut trying to scare me,” Gibbs said. “Ms. Baker and I were talking about people like that earlier. She came out to discuss a probation violator she’s been having trouble with. Boy I sentenced the other day to five years. Dale Crowe, that name familiar?”

Gary Hammond said, “Judge, he threatened you, didn’t he, in court?”

That got everyone’s attention. McKe

“He said, ‘If you think you’re through with me,’’’ Kathy said, and they were all looking at her again, “‘you’re full of shit.’”

They kept looking at her till McKe

“I didn’t hear it as a threat.”

Or maybe, Kathy was thinking, he didn’t hear it at all.

“What else is it,” McKe

“I gave him seven days to settle his affairs.”

“I think you’re one of ‘em he plans to settle,” McKe

Kathy listened to them putting two and two together, seeing a nexus in shots fired at the house and the alligator brought here the other night, by people who would know how to do it. No question about it now, the gator was brought here, a live ten-footer, and when it didn’t do the job then Dale or one of the other Crowes came with a gun. Not to scare you, Judge, to kill you. This would go down as an attempted homicide. The first thing they had to do was locate Dale Crowe Junior. They all looked over at Kathy again as McKe

“Two nights ago.”

“I recall,” Gibbs said, “he was suppose to report to you every day.”

“He didn’t,” Kathy said, “and I don’t know where he is.” Sounding dumb, but what else could she say.

“You checked his house?”

Kathy nodded. “And I’ve been looking for him.”

“So you came out here,” McKe

Kathy watched McKe

Gary Hammond said, “Colonel?” and Kathy thought he was going to mention papering the walls with names. He didn’t, he said, “Dale Crowe lives in Delray Beach with his uncle, Elvin Crowe. Ms. Baker was going over there this evening, I believe.” Looking at her again.

“Elvin was there,” Kathy said. “I asked him where Dale was, he said he was around someplace.”

“Elvin Crowe,” Sheriff Gene Givens said. “I haven’t heard that name in a while. If I was making up a list I’d put Elvin Crowe right at the top.”

“Well, let’s get started,” McKe