Madman on a Drum by David Housewright Page B

nodded her head when Joley finished her story. She said, “I can see where the job rewards your creativity and imagination,” and nodded some more.
    â€œI’m not educated,” Joley said. “Unlike the big guy here”—she waved her hand at me—“I wasn’t what you call college material. I doubt there’s another job anywhere that they would let me do that pays as well as this.”
    Karen nodded again. She had the gift of empathy. She understood other people’s emotions and knew how to make you feel good about having them. Either that or she was one of the most duplicitous women I have ever met.
    â€œTell me about your relationship with Scottie,” Karen said.
    Joley gave me a quick glance and settled on the sofa next to Karen.
    â€œThe summer after we graduated from high school, we started to spend time together,” she said. “I suppose mostly it was out of self-defense. Neither of us was going on to college, and a lot of our friends, like McKenzie here, that was all they could talk about. It was fun, being with him. I’d go to his gigs and listen to him play. And then—you know about the robbery.”
    â€œI know,” Karen said.
    â€œScottie says that to this day he doesn’t know why he let Fulbright talk him into it. It was just so dumb.”
    â€œIs that what you spoke about on the phone?”
    Joley’s eyes grew cautious.
    â€œScottie’s brother, Tommy, said you talked for hours a couple of weeks ago,” Karen added.
    â€œYes, when he spent the weekend with his mother.”
    â€œHave you spoken to him since?” I asked.
    â€œA few times.”
    â€œDid he ever mention any of his friends?”
    â€œSometimes. Sometimes we’ll talk about the people we grew up with and went to school with, you know, Peter, Steve, Mary, Milo, Zap, Bev, John, Mary Beth—those people.”
    â€œBobby Dunston?”
    â€œBobby? No, I don’t think so. Why?”
    â€œNo one from prison? A guy called T-Man, maybe? Or Mr. T? Anyone like that?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œDo you have any idea where he might be now?”
    â€œNo.” Joley’s eyes swept up to her ceiling and back to me. “How much trouble is he in?”
    â€œWe don’t know that he is in trouble,” Karen said. “We’re just trying to find him.”
    Joley was staring at me when she said, “Why can’t people just leave him alone? He’s not a terrorist. He’s not a drug dealer. He didn’t abuse schoolchildren—”
    â€œJolene,” Karen said.
    â€œIf people would leave him alone—”
    â€œJolene.” Karen snapped off the name, forcing Joley to face her. I was convinced she did it to keep me from saying or doing something foolish at the mention of schoolchildren. Like I said, empathy.
    â€œJolene, I’m trying to keep Scottie from going back to prison,” Karen said. “Can you help me?”
    â€œI don’t know where he is. He said—”
    â€œWhat did he say?”
    â€œWhen we were talking, he said he would never go back to prison.”
    â€œWhy were you talking to him at all?” I asked. “I thought you were through with him.”
    â€œThe last time—the last time, he was mean to me. This time, though, he was kind and funny, and he was up, you know, up, like he had plans, like he had a future. And he seemed a little sad, too, like he needed a friend.”
    â€œWhat about the restraining order?”
    â€œI didn’t think about that. I forgot about that.”
    â€œWhy did you take out a restraining order in the first place?” Karen asked.
    â€œThat was because of when he got out of prison the first time. When he went to prison—it was so awful what happened to him, and we would talk about it all the time. I would visit him while he was waiting for his trial, and afterward he would call me from prison and write, and