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Uh-Oh

Joan Mach
As read at the 2017 Performing Arts Showcase

    “Nobody’s going to believe me,” I thought. “I don’t believe it myself.” There, under our homemade picnic table, was the body of our nasty neighbor, Dan Shields. Yesterday we had him served with a summons after his dog defecated on our lawn for the twentieth time. He came out of the house screaming and yelling at the police, and at us. “You’ll be sorry, you bastards!” were his parting words. He was twice my size and in better condition. He scared me when he stood in front of the house, screaming obscenities and threats.
    The police took an hour to arrive. In that time, the kids grew strangely silent. I tried to work around the house, but found it hard to concentrate. The kids and I wound up on the living room sofa, our arms around each other. The TV was on, but I couldn’t tell you which program was playing. Finally, police cars blocked the ends of the street, and the block was even quieter than usual.
    The police started asking questions. No, I hadn’t touched the body. I hadn’t even let the kids out into the back yard. Yes, we disliked the man intensely. No, I had no idea how he got into my back yard. “Did I look like I could lift that man? Why don’t you ascertain the cause of death?” I asked. “We have to question all suspects, ma’am. He is in your back yard,” they replied.
    My husband was a tax attorney, with the foresight to enroll us in a prepaid legal plan. I called them now. “Ask if you’re being charged with anything. Volunteer no information unless asked. Dial this number when and if they take you to the station.” My blood ran cold. I called my husband. “I can’t take a day off from work.” was his reply. The kids started to cry, but silently, terrified into silence.
    Shields’ body was bagged and loaded onto an ambulance. Through the day, the police went up and down the street, ringing doorbells and asking questions. I kept the kids inside, and tried to complete a few household tasks. In desperation, I ordered pizza for lunch. The deliveryman couldn’t get past the police cars in front of the house. Both my mother-in-law and my sister-in-law lived in town. Both refused to take the kids into their homes for the day. It was evening when the police rang my doorbell again.
    “Ma’am, the neighbors tell us you had a running feud with the man. You seemed to be the only people who didn’t like him.” The police explained.
    I was furious! Those liars....those cowards... There’s a world of difference between not liking him and harming him. Every family on the street had a run-in with him. The neighbors on the other side of him moved rather than live next to him. Have you questioned the family? Their quarrels were audible from the street. Why don’t you check your own police blotter?” I struggled for self-control.
    “The family and the neighbors tell a different story,” they replied. “We need to ask you some questions.” The police seemed ready to take me out of my own home.
    “I need to have my lawyer present.” I replied. Trying for self-control, I insisted: “I’m not saying another word until my lawyer gets here.”
    At that point my husband, Tom, arrived home from work. “There are six police cars on the street, two blocking each end of the street and two in front of our house. Does this mean you haven’t started dinner?” “In fact,” I began shakily.
    Our phone rang. A policeman picked it up. “Uh-huh. OK. Got it.” he spoke into the receiver. “Ma’am, Shields died of a heart attack. He took too much heart medicine. You are not a suspect.” The policeman explained crisply, professionally. I sat down.
    As the police cars drove away, the phone began to ring. I took it off the hook. I told Tom I did not want to talk to my worthless mother-in-law or sister-in-law after they refused to help our children. I also told him the neighbors tried to frame me for the crime. I defrosted dinner, and we reassured the kids we loved them. They would not be left alone as long as I lived. They went to sleep calmer and happier. I didn’t sleep.
    Slowly, our lives returned to normal. My mother-in-law and sister-in-law needed hospitalization for illnesses which eventually killed them. I reminded them how little help I got from them, and sent get-well cards. My husband visited both of them in the hospital, and told them he had never seen me so scared or so brave as that day. Both of them insisted I was “sulking.”
    The neighbors all had excuses for their behavior. I nodded and turned away. My fabulous Christmas fruit cakes stayed in our house, and Tom was spared the embarrassment of delivery. One or two mentioned how expensive it was to duplicate my cakes for their holiday dinners, and I replied “Oh, really?”
    I joined an exercise group and made friends with people in other parts of town. The exercise instructor had a brother who lifted weights for a hobby. He and his friends showed up one day to help her move into a new apartment after exercise. The biggest one, George, followed me out to my car and read my bumper stickers. The instructor later told me he was gay, and had a lover in town. George looked like he could lift three of Don Shields.
    Shields had a kosher funeral. I never even knew he was Jewish. They hauled out the rabbi from the biggest Synagogue in town and set up tables in the front lawn. His union mates got half a day off to attend. The rabbi had never seen or heard of anyone in this family, so he merely mentioned their devotion to each other. Don hated taking his bitter medicine, so his wife dissolved it in coffee and gave it to him.
    The funeral cars jammed the block, making it impossible for me to get my babies to their pediatrician. I called the police, again, and they ticketed the two worst offenders. When I returned, two more Shields relatives had moved their cars closer on to my driveway. As they left, both backed into my driveway, threatening to crash into my car. Even when he died, Shields was obnoxious!
    His widow and children blossomed. The daughter married, and Shields insurance money set her husband up in his own catering firm. The son went to live with his lover, George, in Greenwich Village. They sell sex toys online. The widow tried several times to catch my eye, but I busied myself with my babies and never spoke. She moved out less than a year later, and I didn’t even look for the moving van.
    I made sure we were kind to the new couple who moved in to their house: an utterly adorable couple with whom we became friends as soon as they moved in. We replaced that old picnic table with a metal one. The kids kept us busy, especially after my youngest was diagnosed brain-damaged with hyperactive and autistic tendencies. Some of the neighbors moved, and we tried to become friendly with the new arrivals.
    Yesterday, my husband saw the policeman who came to the house that day. He’s now a crossing guard. Fifty years after we moved in, all parents now drive their kids to school. The crossing guard had lots of time to talk.
    My husband asked him if he remembered that day. “I’ve never seen my wife so scared,” my husband commented.
    “Shields?” the guard replied, “She had reason to be scared. His own wife and kids were terrified of him. He’d beaten all three of them the day before. I always wondered how he got that overdose of heart medicine...until the family doctor explained he hated to take medicine. His wife dissolved his medicine in his coffee. It was the only way to get him to take it. They were so pathetic we decided not to go into it any further. Yep. Our only unsolved crime in the history of the force.”

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