Free The Big Thaw by Donald Harstad

over for a poker game, you lost, got pissed off, and shot all of ’em. You actually think that the courts would allow you to say, ‘It’s my property, you can’t come here’? I don’t think so.”
    He didn’t answer.
    “So, if you want to calm down, I’ll tell you as much as I can about what’s going on.”
    Cletus looked me right in the eye. “Okay. Let’s hear it.” Very calm. Very matter-of-fact. It crossed my mind that Cletus had been raising hell for effect. Why? I had no idea. Sometimes people were just like that. Bluster, then calm.
    Just as I was starting, Lamar came back in, fixed Cletus with a cold stare, and then moved over to the lab people. He didn’t say anything, but Cletus was a little cowed for a few seconds.
    I told Cletus Borglan just about everything I knew, with some important exceptions. I left out all reference to Fred. I just said we’d been informed that there’d been a burglary. I didn’t describe how the victims had been shot. While I was telling him the details, he got up, went to the sink, and began making a pot of coffee. Being cool. He stood with his hips resting against the kitchen counter as he listened. When the coffee was done, he poured himself a cup, opened the refrigerator to get some milk, sat down, and took a long sip. He just looked at me, and smiled.
    “My hired man is up here all the time. How come he didn’t find no burglary? Care to explain that?”
    “Don’t know him, Cletus. Maybe that’s something you should ask him about.” I was unhappy about not being offered coffee. “You got an alarm system or anything?”
    “Didn’t think I’d need one. What with all you on the county payroll.”
    Because of Cletus and his attitude, the agent in charge of the lab crew decided that they better stay at the house until everything was done, rather than try to get past Cletus in the morning. The rest of us stayed right along with them.
    That was all right. I was there when the bodies were removed, and saw a complete nonreaction from Cletus Borglan. In the dark, with the stark lights, the black hearses, the frost and snow, and all the officers and agents present, it was quite a scene. As I said to Lamar, it was too bad we didn’t get a picture. It would have looked great on the Office Christmas Card next year.
    I ended up back in the office, sitting alone at my desk about 0445, typing my preliminary report. It helps to do that. Organizes your thoughts. Sure. Well, in this case, there was damned little to organize. Fred let ’em off. They didn’t come back. Who but Fred even knew they were there? Nobody.
    Before I left the office, I left a note: ANYBODY WITH 43 ON FRED GROTHLER, A.K.A. GOOBER, LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU HAVE. 10-43 is cop talk for information.
    I got home at 0547. It was amazingly cold. Minus forty-four degrees in still air. That’s about thirty degrees colder than the temperature in your home freezer. The air was so still the smoke from the chimneys was just standing in straight lines. All the moisture had been frozen and precipitated out of the atmosphere, and the little frozen crystals were all over everything. I stuck my head in the door, and called out to my wife, softly, “Sue?” No answer. She was upstairs, sleeping. She was going to have to miss this.
    I couldn’t resist. I went to the sink, filled a large plastic cup with hot water, and rushed back outside. I heaved the contents of the glass up into the air … It dissipated in a puff, and was gone. Nothing came back down. I love to do that. I made four more trips, all with the same result. Just cold enough. It made my day. I was almost tempted to wake Sue … almost. She’s pretty tolerant, but there are limits…
     
Six
     
Tuesday, January 13, 1998, 0758
     
    Art and Lamar had decided to have a meeting of the investigative crew before the lab unit left for Des Moines. Swell. I hadn’t even gotten to bed when they called. According to Lamar, both he and Art thought I’d better attend.