"There's no problem. I just . . . ."
"Bullwinkle! I haven't put up with you for fifteen years not to know when you're worried. Out with it."
Fred O'Connor looked embarrassed and took his time answering. "It's just that courthouses and judges and all that legal stuff have bum memories."
"Is that it?"
"Yeah. There's things that happened a hundred years ago and are best left be. That's all. You ain't never poked around in my past and I've sort of kept my business close to the vest. That's worked fine by me."
"You usually lie like a bragging fisherman, so I stopped asking."
"I might have pulled your leg a time or two, but we've got along pretty good over the years keeping stuff to ourselves." Fred looked down at his shoes. "Besides, you've got too much on your minds- running for sheriff, little Martha leaving and all-you don't need to hear about the ghosts in my closet. Like you said, I'll probably be bumped from serving on the jury anyway."
"Fred, we're only trying to help, not be nosy," Cynthia said. "But if there's something we can help you with, let us try."
The old man smiled as he poured another drink. "Thanks," he said. "That's nice of you."
"So what's the problem? What's it got to do with jury duty?" Dean pushed. "You afraid they'll toss the book at you?"
Fred just snorted, but Dean noted the old man didn't deny the question. "No real problem. I just don't like courts. We used to go there to bail out the old man. That's the most of it." Then, after a pause he added, "Before Pop disappeared for good."
"Permanently?" Cynthia asked.
Fred nodded. "Never came back."
"Couldn't the police track him down?" Dean said.
Fred snorted again. "In our house, we didn't call the police. They called us-when the phone was working. And it was never good news. Mostly meant the old man was in jail again, or they was looking to find him and put him there."
"Someone must have tried to find your father," Cynthia said.
"Uncle Pat Clancy asked around Pop's favorite bars, but no one knew for sure-or really cared much. Some said he was talking about a job down in the Norfolk shipyard where there was work with the war coming on and all, but after a time, when Ma didn't hear, we just sort of forgot about him. It wasn't as if he was around much when he was in town, so an empty place at the table just meant an extra potato."
"How old were you?"
Fred rubbed his chin and thought. "I guess about Martha's age. All this business with her got me thinking about them years- courts and jail and stuff like that."