The Pale-Faced Lie

by David Crow

“If we killed that old man, where would we bury him? Where’s the nearest—” “Whoa!” I bolted up in my seat. “Why would we kill him? Why are you asking me that?” “We’re not going to kill him. That’s not the point, goddamn it. Listen up. I’m teaching you something here. Do you see a place where we could dump the body so no one would find it? Where’s the nearest police station? How many routes are there away from here? How many vehicles passed us in the last ten minutes in either direction? What color were they? How many people were in them? What were the license plates? State and number. What do you remember?” Another one of his games. Okay, I’d play along. “Three cars and a truck have passed us. Two cars were blue and the third was green. The pickup was red, and three Navajos were in the back. But, Dad, it’s not so much about how close we are to a police station. What really matters is how close we are to a car, or even a pedestrian, who might tip off the police.” He whipped his head around and stared at me, a smiling spreading across his face. “You’re right, David. You’re finally paying attention.” He sped up and passed the old man. “If you don’t know all these things, you can get caught. Murder is the easiest crime to get away with because you have no witnesses. Robbery, kidnapping, any of the other crimes—there are witnesses or people you need to depend on. The perfect murder will never be solved.”