Boca Mournings excerpt (3)
“Mrs. Buford,” I said. “I had no choice but to defend myself.”
“I understand,” she said softly. “Can we talk about my son?”
“What about him?” I asked, sitting down.
“He’s only nineteen years old,” she began. “He’s just a boy.”
“In the eyes of the law he’s a man and in my eyes he’s a bad man,” I said.
“He needs help.”
“He needs a muzzle.”
“I need help,” she pleaded.
“Believe it or not, I am trying to help,” I said.
“How? By getting my son killed?”
“No, by narrowing his options,” I said. “Mrs. Buford, I didn’t start a rumor. I asked one man one question and human nature did the rest. Aryan Army believed a false rumor because they wanted to believe it.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” she said. “He’s one of them.”
“Not anymore,” I said. “He shot off his mouth last year and there’s no room in Aryan Army for a loose cannon.”
“You put him in this position.”
I guess she needed someone to blame.
“You’re as much to blame as anyone,” I countered.
“I’m not responsible for this,” she insisted angrily.
“You’re his mother,” I told her. “You helped make him a danger to society.”
“I did not,” she said. “It was Forrest. I couldn’t stop him, he’s uncontrollable.”
“I just controlled him by hitting him over the head with a water pitcher.”
“I couldn’t do that,” she said.
“No, but you could have gone for help,” I said without sympathy.
She started to cry softly.
I looked at Frank.
What do want from me?
“Maybe that’s enough for now,” Frank suggested.
“No, we have to keep talking,” she insisted. “Mr. Perlmutter, you said you were trying to help.
What did you mean?”
“Yeah, what did you mean?” Frank said, leaning forward in his chair.
“It’s difficult to explain,” I said.
“Give it a try,” Frank told me and Mrs. Buford nodded. “This I gotta hear.”
I talked nonstop for about twenty minutes, thinking how proud of me Dr. Kessler would have been. I explained my idea of the best option and how everyone could win. When I was done, they were looking at me like I was crazy.
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