Wanted . . . Mud Blossom (10 page)

Michael and Vern snickered. Ralphie ignored them. Dump slept on.

“… lies cowering under the house—afraid to come out because he is no longer part of the family who once loved him. He is a dog with a broken heart, a dog who was driven into temporary insanity by the presence of a hamster carelessly left unattended in a poorly constructed—”

Junior gasped and swiveled around in the lawn chair. “Pap, is he allowed to say that?”

Pap didn't break the rhythm of his rocking. “You'll get your turn, Junior.”

“I repeat,” Ralphie went on, “carelessly left unattended. My client, driven temporarily insane, did what any dog would do. Dogs are known to be driven temporarily insane by hamsters in poorly made tunnels. So what my client is really accused of this afternoon is of simply being a dog. So, gentlemen of the jury, this afternoon I'm going to prove that the real guilt lies not with the dog, who was merely being true to his nature, but with that boy on the witness stand waiting to testify against him!”

There was a stunned silence as Ralphie pointed to the startled Junior.

Ralphie said, “Thank you, your honor.”

“Have you reached a verdict?” Pap asked.

“No, we haven't reached a verdict. Pap, we can't reach a verdict until we go somewhere and talk about it,” Vern said.

“Well, go on, but be quick. I've had about enough of this foolishness. I need to call the police again.”

“Come on, Michael. Wake up, Dump, you've got to come too. You're the peer.”

Michael and Vern and Dump disappeared around the corner of the house. Three long minutes went by.

Ralphie spent the time looking at Maggie. Maggie spent the time ignoring Ralphie. Junior spent the time on the witness stand.

Junior was no longer twitching with eagerness. All his eager twitches had gone out of him in that terrible moment when Ralphie had pointed at him and cried, “The real guilt lies not with the dog, who was merely being true to his nature, but with that boy on the witness stand waiting to testify against him!”

Junior had never liked people to point at him and say ugly things. After that, Junior could not enjoy the trial no matter how hard he tried.

He was still on the stand, in the witness chair, because he had been unable to move even when he was excused.

All Junior wanted now was to go home. The trouble was he was home.

He hadn't known how terrible it would make him feel to be a witness, and he hadn't had the pleasure of seeing others go through the same discomfort because he had been the only witness.

First Maggie had questioned him and he hadn't even enjoyed that.

“And where was Mud when you came out of the house?”

“On the porch.”

“What was he doing?”

“Scratching.”

“Did you notice anything unusual about him?”

“He had dirt on his nose and pine needles in his fur.”

“Was this the same kind of dirt found at the scene of the murder?”

“Yes.”

“And were these the same kind of pine needles found at the scene of the murder?”

“Yes.”

“Did you notice anything at the scene of the crime to lead you to believe Mud had been there?”

“Yes.”

“What did you notice?”

“A paw print and some dog pee.”

“And this paw print was the same size as Mud's?”

“Yes.”

“Objection, your honor,” Ralphie said. “Since the defendant is under the house and there is no way to prove the size of his paw—”

“Objection overruled,” Pap said. “I seen the paw print and it was Mud's.”

Maggie said, “Thanks, Pap,” before she turned to Ralphie. “Your witness.”

Junior had liked it even less when Ralphie had cross-examined.

“So, Junior, you testified that there was dirt on the defendant's nose.”

“Yes.”

“Was it unusual for the defendant to have dirt on his nose?”

“Well …”

“Had you ever seen the defendant with dirt on his nose before?”

“Yes, but …”

“Just answer the questions, please. Had you ever seen the defendant with dirt on his nose before?”

“Yes.”

“Had you ever seen the defendant with pine needles in his fur before?”

“Well …”

“Answer the question, please.”

“Yes.”

“As a matter of fact, isn't it true that the defendant usually had dirt on his nose, that he usually went around with pine needles in his fur?”

“Maybe.”

“Answer the question, Junior,” Pap said.

“Oh, all right.”

“Isn't it also true that you knew Mud was frequently in the pine trees?”

“I guess so.”

“You knew this and yet you deliberately built a tunnel where you knew the dog would go and you built the tunnel in such a shoddy manner that any dog could overturn it?”

“It was not shoddy. You saw it, Pap. It was perfect before Mud ruined it.”

“Answer the question, please.”

“No!”

Now there was quiet in the yard. The questions, the summations were over. Both Maggie and Ralphie had rested their cases.

The jury had now been out for five minutes, and everyone in the yard was beginning to get restless.

Then Vern and Michael came around the corner of the house in a burst of enthusiasm. They had spent their time not deliberating the verdict but practicing to say it in unison.

Michael was muttering, “Now don't give it away. I saw this on TV. If you look at the defendant that means the verdict is innocent. If you keep your eyes down, it means guilty.”

“We can't look at the defendant. He's still under the house.”

“Well, don't give it away.”

Dump was in Vern's arms. He looked rested. The three of them took their places in the jury box.

“Gentlemen, have you reached a verdict?” Pap asked in a tired voice.

“We have!”

“What is the verdict?”

“We find the defendant—”

They said this in perfect unison, but they didn't get to finish.

For at that moment, Vicki Blossom's truck drove into the courtroom.

Vicki Blossom leapt from the truck.

“I am furious! Furious! I could scream with fury.

Guess what?”

Maggie said, “Mother—”

“I have looked forward to this weekend and looked forward to this weekend and now somebody up in Virginia has murdered a horse.”

Maggie said, “Speaking of murder, Mom, we are right in the middle of a murder trial ourselves. Your truck is blocking the courtroom.”

“I think I can wrap our trial up,” Ralphie said in a matter-of-fact voice. “I was just getting ready to approach the bench.”

“Approach the bench!” Maggie swirled around.

“What for?”

Pap was trying to get out of his rocking chair, but his knees weren't cooperating.

“Your honor, I would like to introduce a new and startling piece of evidence.”

Maggie said, “Ralphie, you are really getting on my nerves. You are the one who wanted everything to be so legal. The jury is back in! They are giving their verdict! You have no right to introduce anything, much less new evidence!”

“I beg the prosecuting attorney's indulgence,” Ralphie said with a slight, legal bow. Ralphie was glad to see that shut her up.

“I need only one moment, your honor,” Ralphie told Pap. He went up the steps and into the house.

Inside, Ralphie broke into a grin. He loved it. He loved it. It couldn't be better.

As soon as he had seen Vern and Michael and their helpless laughter from Maggie's bedroom window, he had known they had taken the hamster and hidden it.

Then, when he was standing in the upstairs hall, outside of Maggie's room, he had heard a faint whirring sound. Only one thing could make that sound. A hamster in an exercise wheel.

He'd smiled, because he had all the clues to the puzzle. Vern and Michael had taken the hamster; and then while Pap and Junior had rushed out to the scene of the crime, they had come in the house, put Scooter—or whatever his name was—back in his cage, and carried him upstairs to Vern's room.

As Ralphie was standing in the hall, smiling, Maggie had slammed the door in his face, but the brilliance of his deductions would make her regret that.

Ralphie started up the steps for the second time that afternoon.

In the front yard, Vicki Blossom was saying, “What is going on here? Can't I go away from home for five minutes without having a murder trial in my front yard?”

“Mom, Mud ate the school hamster and he's on trial for murder,” Maggie explained.

“Has the world gone mad? Murder trials for horses. Now one for a hamster! I could just …”

Smiling, Ralphie entered Vern's room and picked up the cage. He went back down the stairs, opened the front door. His heart raced with pleasure.

He flung open the screen door and stood in the doorway, with the cage behind him. “The final piece of evidence,” he said, “the final reason my client could not have committed murder is that there has been no murder!”

They were all looking at him. He loved it. He just loved it. Maybe he would be a real lawyer when he grew up. He sure had the brains for it. His brown eyes glinted like metal.

With that he brought out the cage. “Your honor, I give you—Scooty.”

There was a moment of absolute and stunned silence, then total confusion. Vern and Michael were protesting that they hadn't had time to give their verdict and they had really worked on that verdict. They had practiced saying “Innocent” in unison until they had it down pat.

And, besides, they were the ones who had saved Scooty in the first place. It wasn't fair.

Junior, able to rise at last, got up from the witness stand. He went to the front door and dropped down on his knees in front of Scooty's cage.

Ralphie looked over Junior's head at Maggie. Her eyes were misty. Ralphie didn't like it when her eyes were filled with tears, but when her eyes were misty … well, it made him feel misty too.

Ralphie discovered that his favorite thing in the world was to be looked at with misty eyes.

Ralphie blinked.

These were not, as he had thought, the misty eyes of a person overcome by love and emotion. This mist was not an acknowledgment of his brilliance. This was not the mist that turned a man to mist too.

This mist chilled him to the bone, like a fog blown in from a wintry ocean. Ralphie shivered.

And then Maggie Blossom said words terrible enough to go with the mist, the worst words Ralphie had ever heard in his life.

“Ralphie?”

“Yes?”

“Ralphie, I hate you with all my heart!”

Junior was getting ready to beat up on Vern. His mom and Pap had given him permission. At first Junior had wanted to kill Vern and Michael, too, but Pap had stepped in.

“Now, now, you don't want to kill anybody.”

“I do too!”

“You know what my daddy used to do when my brothers and I were boys?”

“No.”

“I didn't tell you about that?”

“No.”

“Well, if one brother was in the wrong, like Vern—Vern, you were in the wrong here. It was wrong to hide Scooty and make Junior think he was dead—well, when one of us was in the wrong, my daddy would take the heel of his shoe and he'd draw a big circle.”

As he spoke, Pap moved around the yard, scratching a circle into the dirt with his heel.

“Then the brother who had done wrong would have to get in the circle.”

Pap nodded to Vern, and Vern, shoulders sagging, stepped inside.

“Then what?”

“Then the other brother—that's you, Junior—the other brother would get in the circle, too, and start fighting. My daddy would time off three minutes on his pocket watch, like I'm getting ready to do.

“Vern, you can duck, you can dodge, you can run.

You can do anything as long as you don't get out of the circle or hit Junior.”

“Pap—”

“Them's the rules. Okay, Junior, you ready?”

Junior spit on his hands to show that he was.

“Vern?”

“I guess.”

“Then go to it.”

Junior paused before stepping over the line and into the circle. He said, “I'm doing this not only for myself, but for Mary as well.”

“Mary?” Vern said.

“Yes, Mary,” Junior answered.

Then, head as high as a knight's, he went forward into battle.

Mud had been ready to come out from under the house ever since he saw Dump in the jury box. Yet the memory of Junior's shouts and attempts at capture were still in his mind.

Finally, he got up from behind the apple crate and stretched. Keeping his body low, he moved to the steps. He paused at the truck tire and sat on his haunches.

The fight between Junior and Vern had just started, and Mud lay down by the tire to wait that out. His eyes turned to Dump, who was sitting beside Michael.

Michael was patting Dump, and Mud didn't like that. He also didn't like the fact that Dump was out there where Pap was, and he was under the house.

A fly landed on Mud's head, and he shook it off without taking his eyes from Dump.

The fight was in full swing now, but Mud continued to watch Dump. Slowly, in a crouch, he began to inch forward.

“Pap, Vern won't let me hit him! He keeps jumping out of the way.”

“That's what he's supposed to do, Junior.”

“Well, I can't hit him if he won't stand still!”

“Keep trying. You've still got two minutes.”

“There!”

“Pap, Junior hit me!”

“That's what he's supposed to do.”

“Well, it left a mark on my arm. You didn't say he could leave marks.”