Chapter One: Outlaw
---1---
Don slammed the door closed and walked out, newspaper under his arm, assigning tasks to his staff, delegating before he got there. The sun hid behind the hills and a haze was trapped in the basin, casting a pallor upon the ragged metropolis. He reached into a pocket for keys, switching the paper to the other arm, and unlocked his sedan, ten feet out. Upon opening the door a stench overwhelmed him and he gagged, stepped back.
The paper slipped to the asphalt and he took a quick look around the area, then reapproached the car, hand under his nose. He peeked in. The odor permeated the interior, smelled like a wharf. He saw nothing which would explain it. In the back seat lay two boxes and a jacket for the trek he and Charlie had been planning. He steeled himself and from the front seat, stretched back and pulled up the jacket. Underneath was a dead fish-a sizable dead fish-an orange-dappled koi.
He hurried out, feeling vulnerable, tempted to draw his sidearm. But no one was about, vehicles pleasantly parked in the street, birds fluttering under a maple. He shut the car door and took out his cell phone, watching for anything out of the ordinary, his back to the buildings. All was not right with the world. Outlaws prowled, ones adept enough to get into his car without being noticed or leaving a mark.
No one answered the first four rings so he disconnected, tried again. He grew impatient. The answering machine activated and he hung up, tried Charlie's cell phone. Only voice mail. Then his father's, with the same result. He retried the landline and finally got Charlie, who sounded sleepy. Pop's in the shower, he said, the old furnace is acting up.
Don got to the point. "Charlie, shake off the webs and check the pond. Someone broke into my car and dumped a fish."
"A fish?"
"A koi, like yours," Don said. "Check now."
"All right, I'm walking."
"Waiting"
"I didn't hear anything last night." Charlie seemed skeptical.
"Doesn't mean nothing happened."
"Where are you?" he said.
"Never mind." As he spoke, Don revolved 360 degrees, ruling out a matronly woman and her dog as suspects. "What do you see?"
"Give me a second."
"You outside?"
Charlie didn't answer.
"What's the matter?"
"Don. They're dead, all of them."
"Go back inside," Don said. "As a precaution."
"But--"
"Go back in and lock the doors, call the police. Both of you stay inside until they get there." No response. "Hello?"
"They're floating on top."
"Now, Charlie."
"The water's cloudy."
"Inside," Don said. "Make sure the front's locked. Dad leaves it open sometimes when he gets the paper."
"Going, I'm going. Who would do this?"
"I don't know. I gotta' call this in but I'll be there as soon as I can."
"I'm inside," Charlie said. "Be careful."
---2---
Because Don was an FBI agent, the city police regarded the vehicle break-in as a bold harassment carried out by a suspect who could require priority status. Together, they gathered up the fish as evidence, putting it on ice for the lab. When they were done, Don lowered the car windows, cranked up the A/C and drove straight to Charlie's, keeping an eye out in the rear view mirror the entire commute. At the house, he intercepted the responding police unit as it backed out of the driveway and spoke with the officers briefly before going in.
Charlie was in the backyard, kneeling by the pond with a net, bucket at his side. Alan stood next to him.
"I talked to the cops," Don said, coming up the path. "It's got to be someone who has it personal for me."
Alan flinched. "You startled me."
"Sorry." Don eyed the pond, fish adrift like flotsam. "This is insane."
"What if it's not personal?" Alan said. "Maybe he's got a bone to pick with all of us."
"Can't rule that out." Don looked down over Charlie's shoulder. He was raising a koi out of the water. "How's it going?"
Charlie laid it out on the bottom of the bucket then gazed up at Don. "What do I do with them?"
"We'll need a couple to analyze, find out what killed them." He surveyed the area, shaking his head.
"And the rest?" he asked.
Don watched Charlie go lax and drop back on a heel, nudging a red and white patterned koi with the net, sweeping it back and forth as if it would spring to life.
"I suppose they're too big for the toilet," Don said, instantly realizing he'd hurled himself into a chasm of trouble. It was way too early for stress-defusing, law enforcement levity.
Charlie got up, threw the net down and faced him. "Why don't you clean this up? Take them home in your car," he said, and marched towards the house.
Alan tried to intervene, picking up the net. "Gentlemen, let's work together, shall we?"
"I'll be back, dad." Don caught up with him at the rear door. "I apologize. I'm way out of line. It's been a really bad morning. I'm supposed to be at a meeting, my car stinks..." He loosened his tie. "We'll bury them, like the lizard. Remember?"
Charlie's somber face was outlined in the door glass. He sighed.
"A decent funeral," Don said.
"We're not kids."
"Go on in." Don opened the door. "Dad and I can take care of everything."
Charlie shut it. "I want them to have a dignified disposal."
Don removed his jacket, heading for the storage. "I'll get a shovel."
---3---
In a corner of the garden, Don and Charlie prepared a squared grave. When finished, a perspiring Charlie returned to the pond and lifted out the remainder of his pets. As the bucket filled with two or three of the large koi, Alan would transfer and deposit their limp bodies into their final resting-place. Once complete, an anxious Alan escaped inside for a cool drink.
Still in a tie, Don began to push the soil back in.
Charlie lingered at the edge. "Let me do it."
"Grab the other shovel."
"I'll do it," he said.
Don hesitated, then handed his shovel over. "Sure?"
Charlie nodded, already on task.
"I'll be inside," he said. At the door, he looked back. Charlie seemed resigned to his duty, methodically scooping in soil. He thrived on numbers and algorithms, but the koi had summoned him to a world where symbols were immaterial, where the koi themselves were symbolic. The koi were smart and when Charlie came to feed them-carefully measuring out what they could eat in ten minutes-they became active, sloshing the water. Strangers did not elicit this reaction.
On balmy nights, Charlie would focus on the pond, motionless, and Don knew it was then his brother's fast-forward brain would be tranquil for at least ten minutes, especially when he was unable or unwilling to prevent his thoughts from controlling him. The koi were a respite. Don recognized the need.
With a fist, he thumped the doorjamb, sorting suspects past and present through his mind. "Creep," he said. "I'm not letting you harass my family. Or me."