One Day in a Small-Town Desert, chapter 13, page 6

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Detective Sétıpímo Marıdaré shoved through the arguing mob of policemen to get to the paramedics. “Shut the plagues up!” he bellowed at them all.

An Enforcer approached the house’s front window, apparently about to break in.

“Stop right where you are!” shouted Sétıpímo. “Don’t you dare force entry.”

The Enforcer stopped, turning around almost shyly.

Sétıpímo asked the medic, “Is Pí‘oro alive?” before resuming vigorously chewing his tobacco.

The policemen silenced to hear the response.

The paramedic wiped his forehead, his eyes darting around the assemblage. “Uh, we were performing defibrillation when the defibrillator battery died. We were--”

“Is Pí‘oro alive?” Sétıpímo snapped. Some people just couldn’t give a straight answer. He spat tobacco juice near the medic’s shoes.

The medic glanced down, then brought his eyes up to meet the detective’s. “No. He was flatlining on every scale from when we first got to him.”

Was that before or after you beat him? From the previous arguments, it had become apparent to Sétıpímo that at least one of the medics had fought Pí‘oro, along with an Enforcer and two county lawmen.

Sétıpímo turned to face the head Colonial Enforcer, a lieutenant.

“You have no authority to force entry into the Kılímos’ house. Your suspect is dead. Focus on the missing suspects who are still alive: Zhíno and the blonde woman.”

It finally hit Sétıpímo: Pí‘oro Kılímo was dead. The crotchety old rancher, who was only three years older than Sétıpímo, who Sétıpímo had known since just after high school, who had always shook his head sadly at the ways of mankind and the universe as a whole, had finally joined Pétíso in the next existence. How much longer do I have? Sétıpímo thought suddenly. His jaw stopped momentarily.

The lieutenant had already begun talking. “We must double-check that the suspect is deceased. We need to question his wife. We can--”

“You don’t need to question Vata,” Sétıpímo cut in. He spat a stream of tobacco off to the side. “First of all, she’s not going anywhere--she’s got nowhere to go. Secondly, she’s not a suspect or even a suspected accomplice in this murder. Thirdly, you don’t have a warrant to go busting into houses like Rékaré when there’s no suspect inside. This is Pívo County; we follow proper protocol here. We obey the law.”

Sétıpímo glanced over at Senior Lawman Vomıvé, who might not have been following those laws quite as well as he should have, that night.

Vomıvé nodded sharply. “Exactly.” He evidently missed the rebuke in the detective’s glance.

“We don’t need a warrant,” barked the Enforcer, jabbing his finger toward the front door. “We’ve been in there already.”

“There’s nothing to be gained,” snapped Sétıpímo. “Just leave the old girl in peace!”

Why couldn’t they just leave Vata alone for one night? She wanted to be alone with her husband just awhile longer, to mourn for him, to say goodbye. Perhaps, per the rules, they should break in and take the body away, but it didn’t feel right.

The tall, blond Enforcer emitted something which might have been a growl. He narrowed his eyes and muttered, “Plague of Rívorí.” Louder, with a tight jaw, he said, “If you are following your precious protocols so precisely, then it isn’t you, detective, who decides whether we can enter this house or not. It’s the senior lawman.” He turned his head toward Vomıvé. “Well?”

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