Suspects by Thomas Berger Page B

where they could do some modest spying for him. There had been a time, way back, when he never paid for a restaurant or takeout meal, in or out of uniform, and when he got all his wife’s home appliances, as well as the clothes for her and all three kids, at prices no higher than the respective store owner’s costs. But in those days it was also true that he was pulling down less than fifteen a year, not to mention that he kept himself clean when offered big money by the same drug dealers who were more successful with other cops, leading to the big scandal of twenty years back when a dozen officers were thrown off the force and two went to prison.
    It did not occur to Lloyd to feel he had been lucky to avoid arrest. Instead he believed he had added another misfortune to the series of such that had begun the morning before. It would have been morally preferable to be caught while stealing an object of value. He had been humiliated in a way that permitted no restitution of pride. Should he have taken on the gigantic guard over a rubber toy?
    He absolutely could not visit Laurel Avenue without bringing a present for Amanda, who always came running to him with that in mind as soon as he set foot in the door. It had probably been a mistake to start the practice in the first place, which was all his doing and could not be blamed on a niece who, in the early days of her awareness of other persons than her parents, had shrunk from him and, when he persisted, screamed in aversion, embarrassing Donna, though, as was to be expected, brother Larry thought it hilarious. “You got quite a way with women, kid.” On subsequent visits Lloyd eventually proceeded to bribe Amanda to tolerate him, bringing toys that squeaked or rattled and distracted the child from whatever it had been about him that scared her.
    Then he lost his local hardware-store job, which had only been temporary from the first, but for a change he got along with his employers and colleagues and had hoped to be kept on when the regular guy came back after recuperation from major surgery. However, the budget could not take it in a poor season for retailing. Nor could he find work anywhere else in town at that time. Extending his search, he ended up out in the western part of the state, picking fruit, and when the harvest was over, he stuck around in the region. They were big on high-school sports out there, with a college-style stadium and a fast-food franchise to service it. Lloyd roamed the stands with a hot-dog carrier slung from his neck. This had been a student job when he was himself in school, but it was part of a bigger business here, not confined to Friday-night games. The stand was also kept open every afternoon at practice sessions, for the considerable crowd who gathered to watch those phases they were permitted to see, and then for the players themselves, for whom, as active young athletes, few calories were excessive. Once practice had concluded for the day, they were allowed to grab snacks before going home to gorge on massive suppers. Husky young giants who frequented the gymnasium weight room whenever they were not on the football field, they were the kind who might have bullied Lloyd, he was sure, had he been their contemporary, or, worse, might have been polite to him in a condescending way, but he at least had learned how to pull rank by means of age: he had a few more years than they in which to see more of life than truck farms and orchards and high-school locker rooms.
    When he next came back to Donna’s house, Amanda was no longer a baby but rather a self-propelled little person who could even talk, and she liked him immediately, so much so that she climbed into his lap without invitation. He had saved his money, and he brought Mandy a big doll that could speak a dozen sentences. Donna’s gift was a thick-walled perfume bottle of green glass within which sparkled little stars of gold. Larry received a bottle of