Page 226 of The Holy Grail
It also took longer than he thought it would (mainly because rain made the marble slick as hell and hard to chisel), but thirty minutes later, the word ‘Loving’ had been removed from the headstone, leaving a rough, rectangular-shaped crater in its place. He was soaking wet, cold, and filthy, but as he admired his work, there was a satisfied smile on his face.
“What the hell are you doing?” a voice demanded off to Malcom’s left.
Glancing over, he saw what appeared to be a groundskeeper getting out of a golf cart, which was pulling a little trailer filled with lawn tools. Malcom had been so caught up in the moment, he hadn’t even heard the man arrive.
Well, fuck.
Slowly getting to his feet, because his knees were not cooperating very well, Malcom ridiculously answered, “I’m just … paying my respects,” even though it was unlikely the groundskeeper hadn’t seen what Malcom had been doing.
A flashlight clicked on and the beam of yellow light was directed at the headstone, illuminating the destruction even in the light drizzle. “Paying your respects? It looks like you’re vandalizing a headstone … which is illegal.” The groundskeeper frowned in disbelief, before shining the light on Malcom’s face. “Are you drunk? Or high?”
Shielding his face, Malcom wondered if being one of them would get him off the hook, and he briefly considered lying. “No, and no,” he finally replied, because claiming either one could be easily disproven, and he didn’t want to add being a liar to this situation.
The groundskeeper lowered the flashlight. “Well, since you’re way too old to be doing this because of a fraternity dare, you need to explain yourself.”
Malcom sighed. “It’s my father’s headstone.”
“And you’re vandalizing your father’s headstone, because why?”
“I have my reasons.”
“You have your reasons,” the groundskeeper repeated, looking at Malcom with heavy contempt. “Is one of them because you’re an asshole?”
As rain fell on his face, Malcom blinked at the man and said, “No.”
“Well, when the police arrive, I’m sure they’ll want to know what your reasons are.”
Having expected to be charged with a misdemeanor for intentionally defacing a headstone, Malcom was surprised when instead of being booked right away and having his fingerprints taken, he was placed in a holding cell with two other men, one who was obviously drunk, and one who looked like he’d been on the losing end of a bar fight.
Malcom had been relieved of his wallet, keys, watch, and phone, and also hadn’t been given his one phone call yet, so he had no way of letting Jules and Evan know what was going on.
Because jail time moved really slow, the hour that passed before the sound of approaching footsteps could be heard felt more like two.
Almost in unison, all three men looked up.
Malcom didn’t know whether to be relieved or dismayed when he saw Martin standing on the other side of the bars, along with Officer Gardner, who had been the one to put Malcom in the cell to begin with.
“You’re free to go,” Officer Gardner told Malcom, unlocking the cell door and sliding it open with a tremendous amount of grating metal noise.
At that, the drunken man tried to get to his feet, apparently thinking he was getting sprung, but was quickly corrected by the officer. “Not you.”
Martin and Officer Gardner led Malcom into the main part of the jail, where he was given back his belongings and then released. As he and Martin walked out to his Mercedes in silence, Malcom checked his phone and saw he had a few texts from Evan and Jules.
JULES: Where are you at?
EVAN: How much later are you going to be?
EVAN: You missed dinner …
He quickly texted back.
MALCOM: Sorry. I should be home shortly.
As they got into the car, Martin finally broke the silence. “Here’s the part where you thank me for pulling a few strings and getting you released without being charged.”
Malcom wasn’t at all surprised to hear what Martin had done, since his brother had a lot of clients come through this police station, and knew several of the officers there.
“Thank you,” Malcom returned.
