Chapter 5
Fenrick had never experienced sitting in a police car with hands handcuffed behind him. Now he had some idea what it was like. It wasn't comfortable. Well they deserved it. But it wasn't nearly as uncomfortable as being strung like a bow, hogtied as it were. There was no way to sit. He could only lean on the seat on his side, with his feet on the floor and his head on the seat back. Sledge was going to pay for this... if he lived to file charges.
Fenrick found it difficult to be civil. "You need to let me go, Sledge. I haven't done anything to deserve this."
Sledge looked over at him without sympathy. "Suppose you're standing before a jury. Suppose your good things were judged against your bad things. Which way would the scales of justice tip?"
Fenrick had him there. He said smugly, "It doesn't work that way. Justice is blind. Guilt or innocence is the measure of the scales."
Sledge smiled. "What if you were standing before God. Which way would his scales tip?"
Fenrick was incredulous. "God?! That guy who supposedly sits on a throne and lets good people die, while the bad get away with murder. Give me a break, Sledge." He knew he had him there. Sledge was left without an argument.
"You got more ways to squirm away from any accusation. Well, I got you tied up. You ain't goin' nowhere till I get some answers. Now what have you done good for anyone?"
"I'm a good, upstanding member of the community. I add to the economy."
"Yeah, like that's gonna' save you. What good have you ever done for anybody? You're so tight you don't even tip."
"I don't believe in it. They work, they should get paid."
"They don't get paid unless you tip them."
"Shouldn't be that way," Fenrick replied with no remorse. "There is no legal requirement to tip. Not my fault. Not my problem."
"Oh, you got problems, alright. Name one good thing you've done."
"I hired you. Saved you from your demons."
Sledge snorted. "You hired me to save you from Public Defender duties. Be honest."
"Win, win," Fenrick countered.
"You're so tight you can't even let the truth out. C'mon, tell me something you really did - pro bono - just did something for someone else without some gain for you."
Fenrick thought about it. Nothing came to mind. He changed the subject. "So, big man, what have you done for others?"
"I kissed my Mama every night!"
Fenrick laughed at that. "And then broke her heart by breaking laws and going to prison."
"Yeah, it worked out that way," Sledge said sullenly. "I wonder which one of us is worse, you or me?"
Fenrick thought he could use this to his advantage. "The Grim Reaper is after you, Sledge. You can't treat me this way and live."
"I'm not the one who fired Jessica on Christmas Eve, and is now letting her kill herself. The Grim Reaper is gonna' to cut your legs off with his scythe, spit you on the handle, and then roast you over the flames of hell. Could you possibly be any worse?"
"Yeah," Fenrick said before he thought. "Well, I don't know. What have you done? Those charges probably aren't the half of it."
"Shoplifting. A man's got to have good clothes. You know."
Fenrick smiled. Maybe he could kind of be friendly with Sledge and get out of this. "I was born poor. I used to steal liquor from the liquor store. Put a pint in your pants right and it looks like you have a big dick."
Sledge laughed. "You, too! People used to think I went to the liquor store to get a hard on!" They both laughed. "There's a reason guys wear their pants low. I could take half a store out in those droopy pants. Beat that."
Fenrick knew he could beat that. "I just got smarter. I got into betting, and I already knew who would win. Or cards. I was good with cards and I knew all the tricks."
"So that's where my money went!" Sledge laughed. "Hey, get this! There was always three of us go into a store. One would distract the clerk, one would block the camera, and one would stuff the merchandise into his pants. We got caught once, and I knew it was going to happen, so I went in the bathroom and gave the stuff to the other guy. He went to jail."
"That's nothing," Fenrick bragged. "Most of our clients could stay out of jail if they knew what to plea!"
"What's that?"
"They come in and they want me to get them off scot-free. So they plead not guilty. They think they can fool a judge. I take it to court, charge them $3000.00, they're guilty as hell, and they got their chance to try and fool a judge. The judge sends them straight to jail for three years. They're off the street. Everyone's happy. But if they pled guilty, the judge would be lenient and let them off with maybe six months, or probation."
"What?! They can't pay you, so why do it?"
"I sue them for their vehicle."
"Then they can't work! Criminal record, no vehicle, they're on the road back to jail! And you're doing it to them instead of helping them!" Sledge screamed.
Fenrick gave him a condemning look. "You're the one on the way to hell."
Blind with fury, Sledge said, "We're both on the way to hell! But I'm gonna' see you on your way first." Sledge ran a red light. A police car immediately followed. Sledge accelerated.
"This should be good," Fenrick said. "You can start planning out your next ten years in prison."
Sledge made a left turn going too fast. He lost control of the car and slid over an embankment into a park.
The police car, vision obscured by the falling snow, zoomed past the scene without noticing. They were gone.
In a rage, Sledge yanked Fenrick out of the car by the rope. He simply swung him along like a bucket of water, his nose plowing snow with every swing, and protesting loudly as Sledge walked.
Sledge walked for ten minutes swinging Fenrick along, until the big man got tired and dropped him into a snow bank. "You hungry?" Sledge asked.
"I'm a pig, hogtied and being carried off to some horrible death, and you want to know if I'm hungry?! All I need is an apple in my mouth, you idiot!"
"Suit yourself, man. There's a fast food restaurant right over there." Sledge picked him up, swinging him again, then walked through the drive through.
"May I take your order?"
"Help me - " Sledge lowered Fenrick's face to the cement so his mouth was muffled.
"What was that?" The speaker blared.
"Two big hamburgers, please. Couple of large fries. And two cups of coffee." Sledge headed for the window as the cashier told him the price. At the window, he sat Fenrick on the ground just below the window so that he couldn't be seen.
The cashier gave him a funny look, but many people walked through the window even though they're not supposed to. "Eight dollars and eighty six cents, please."
"Three packs of sugar please," Fenrick yelled.
The cashier looked at Sledge, then looked outside, but saw nothing. "What?"
"Call the - "
Sledge kicked Fenrick in the side, then stepped on his mouth, and he shut up. "Three packs of sugar, I said."
"Are you a ventriloquist or something?"
"Yeah, ain't I something."
Sledge gave her a ten, told her to keep the change, and grabbed the sack and drink tray and walked back the way he came.
The fast food worker stuck here head out the window and saw what was happening. She called the police. They said they would send a car once one got free from accidents. Sledge disappeared over the edge of the parking lot, back toward the park. In any other situation it was a beautiful walk. The street leading to the park was lined with trees with limbs laden with white snow, silver ice cycles draping from limbs and power lines, and Christmas decorations on utility poles.
"You got any socially redeeming value, Fenrick?"
Fenrick was tired of this. He was not going to continue this conversation. "None at all."
"Yeah, that's what I figured. You're a corrupt lawyer, and a bad office manager. You can't even make enough money to keep the firm going. You know
I'm gonna' have to kill you."
"Getting a hamburger didn't change your mind?"
"What, do you think I'm a psychopath?"
He did not want to have this conversation. "Close."
"I don't want you to suffer. I just want you dead!" Sledge emphasized dead, like slamming closed a casket lid.
"Isn't that wonderful. You call this not suffering?" he asked as he swung casually along.
"I gotta' figure out how to kill you and dispose of your body, and I don't want it to hurt."
"Yeah, quick and painless, that's what I always say."
"I could shove sleeping pills down your throat."
"What if I wake up and prosecute you?"
"I can buy some illegal drugs and shoot you up."
"I have the constitution of a horse. I would wake up."
"I could turn on the gas and light a match."
"Your home is all electric, and so is mine."
"I would strangle you, but it takes over a minute, and even then you might come back to life."
"Face it, Sledge, your usual lack of preparation is working against you. Let me go now, and I won't file charges."
"Nope. You're gonna' see Jessica, and then you're going to die."
"Look, we're birds of a feather! The Grim Reaper was going to kill both of us with that truck. Whatever you do to me, you have to do it, too."
"Yeah, maybe. Might be the best way out of this."
"So you go first!"
Sledge broke into a belly laugh, then so did Fenrick, as much as you can laugh while being swung along like a bucket, nose skimming the snow.
"I'm throwing you off a bridge. Then I don't have to watch you die. Maybe I'll jump, too."
"What if I don't sink? You have to sink to drown."
They were back at the car. Sledge saw a police sticker on the windshield. He pulled it off and threw it on the ground.
"They got you now, nitwit. The rental is registered to you."
Sledge opened the passenger door and threw Fenrick in.
Just as Sledge got in, the tow truck driver, Jim, arrived. Sledge started the engine, then peeled out, throwing snow and mud everywhere.
The driver smiled at them, obviously having a good time. He yelled out the window, "You can run, but you can't hide!" He laughed loudly.
"That SOB is the Grim Reaper," Sledge yelled. "He's just toying with us."