couple of cops, then stared at people's high beams for thirty miles.
Have you got your aspirin handy?"
"Always," Norris said. "You know that." Norris's bottom desk drawer contained his own private pharmacy. He opened it, rummaged, produced a giant-sized bottle of strawberry-flavored Kaopectate, stared at the label for a moment, shook his head, dropped it back into the drawer, and rummaged some more. At last he produced a bottle of generic aspirin.
"I've got a little job for you," Alan said, taking the bottle and shaking two aspirins into his hand. A lot of white dust fell out with the pills, and he found himself wondering why generic aspirin always produced more dust than brand-name aspirin. He wondered further if he might be losing his mind.
"Aw, Alan, I've got two more of these E-9 boogers to do, and-"
"Cool your Jets." Alan went to the water-cooler and pulled a paper cup from the cylinder screwed to the wall. Blub-blub-blub went the water-cooler as he filled the cup. "All you've got to do is cross the room and open the door I just came through. So simple even a child could do it, right?"
"What-"
"Only don't forget to take your citation book," Alan said, and gulped the aspirin down.
Norris Ridgewick immediately looked wary. "Yours is right there on the desk, next to your briefcase."
"I know. And that's where it's going to stay, at least for tonight."
Norris looked at him for a long time. Finally he asked.
"Buster?"
Alan nodded. "Buster. He's parked in the crip space again. I told him last time I was through warning him about it."
Castle Rock's Head Selectman, Danforth Keeton III, was referred to as Buster by all who knew him... but municipal employees who wanted to hold onto their jobs made sure to call him Dan or Mr. Keeton when he was around. Only Alan, who was an elected official, dared call him Buster to his face, and he had done it only twice, both times when he was very angry. He supposed he would do it again, however. Dan "Buster" Keeton was a man Alan Pangborn found it very easy to get angry at.
"Come on!" Norris said. "You do it, Alan, okay?"
"Can't. I've got that appropriations meeting with the selectmen next week."
"He hates me already," Norris said morbidly. "I know he does."
"Buster hates everyone except his wife and his mother," Alan said, "and I'm not so sure about his wife. But the fact remains that I have warned him at least half a dozen times in the last month about parking in our one and only handicapped space, and now I'm going to put my money where my mouth is."
"No, I'm going to put my J'Oh where your mouth is. This is really mean, Alan. I'm sincere." Norris Ridgewick looked like an ad for When Bad Things Happen to Good People.
"Relax," Alan said. "You put a five-dollar parking ticket on his windshield. He comes to me, and first he tells me to fire you."
Norris moaned.
"I refuse. Then he tells me to tear up the ticket. I refuse that, too. Then, tomorrow noon, after he's had a chance to froth at the mouth about it for awhile, I relent. And when I go into the next appropriations meeting, he owes me a favor."
"Yeah, but what does he owe me?"
"Norris, do you want a new pulse radar gun or not?"
"Well-"
"And what about a fax machine? We've been talking about a fax machine for at least two years."
Yes! the falsely cheerful voice in his mind cried. You started talking about it when Annie and Todd were still alive, Alan! Remember that? Remember when they were alive?
"I guess," Norris said. He reached for his citation book with sadness and resignation writ large upon his face.
"Good man," Alan said with a heartiness he didn't feel. "I'll be in my office for awhile."
3
He closed the door and dialled Polly's number.
"Hello?" she asked, and he knew immediately that he would not tell her about the depression which had come over him with such smooth completeness. Polly had her own problems tonight.
It had taken only that single word to tell him how it was with her.
The 1-sounds in hello were lightly slurred. That only happened when she had taken a [email protected] perhaps more than one-and she took a Percodan only when the pain was very bad. Although she had never come right out and said so, Alan had an idea she lived in terror of the day when the Percs would stop working.
"How are you, pretty lady?" he asked,