by R E Swirsky
"You don't need to say anything. I've told someone finally, and it actually feels good." Ricky almost smiled. "Just be my friend. That’s all I'm asking for right now."
Bobby nodded. "Anything you need, just say it. My God this is awful!"
Ricky wiped his eyes, and a real smile broke across his face for the first time that morning. "Just be there and don't go on about it. Please don't say a word to anyone. No one can ever know about this. I'd die if anyone ever found out."
Bobby forced a smile back. It was a difficult smile because it felt as if the dirty truth he now held inside made him never want to smile again.
"This is private stuff man. Shit! You know I won't tell a soul." He reached out his right hand to Ricky and Ricky grabbed on. Both boys gripped each other in a bond they both knew was rock solid. They looked at each other teary-eyed, and Bobby could see the weight had lifted from Ricky. There was something in the air that finally felt positive.
"It's just so embarrassing to say it out loud still, but I do trust you, Bobby. I really do. You've always been the one I can say things to that I can't say to anyone else. Telling you gave me the biggest relief I've felt in months. But I really need to talk to Tommy still. I have to talk to him about this. You think he knows about me?"
Bobby shook his head. "I’m pretty sure he doesn't. I think he's wondering why you've never come up to see him or Jason. You going to tell him?"
"I have to. I have no choice."
Bobby could see Ricky's smile weaken.
"Okay then," Bobby said. "We can go in a few hours, if you're up to it."
Ricky nodded in agreement, "I have to, Bobby. While I still feel I can."
CHAPTER 26
Detective Dean Daly was in his cruiser returning from a nuisance call on the outskirts of Bluffington. Simon Pelletier had lodged a complaint against his neighbour Jens Wolfle. A few of Jens cattle had somehow gotten outside the fence and trampled through Simon's front yard destroying the front flower beds and front lawn. Now it looked as if World War Three started there.
Dean knew Jens talked a pile of nonsense. This was another chapter in a feud that went back all the way back to when the Municipality let the landowners break down their land into smaller, three and four acre parcels. Now the city slickers moved into the countryside, complained that it smelled of manure in their backyards and demanded that something be done about it. Numerous civil court actions were filed against the farmers and ranchers who had been on these lands for generations. Where Jens’ fourteen hundred acres ended, an explosion of small acreages now lined his property. Simon Pelletier's property was the first one at the northwest corner.
Jens had shrugged, trying to look innocent. He insisted he had no idea how his cattle got outside of the fence. The gate was shut, and there wasn’t a break anywhere in the fence.
The last time Dean was called out for a feud between these two, Jens had spread fresh manure out on the strip of property sitting adjacent to Simon's acreage, and only along that section. Dean knew he did it on purpose. Simon had recently submitted a letter to the editorial column complaining about how the ranchers in the area were being disrespectful of their new neighbours. The letter accused the ranchers of letting their cattle graze next to the expensive acreages, which created a foul smelling odour for all of those who lived nearby.
Today's charade was no different. Dean confronted Jens, and Jens willingly had a couple of his hands bring his cattle back, smiling the entire time at Dean. He insisted multiple times that he had no idea how his cattle ended up on the wrong side of the fence.
To complicate the matter, Simon Pelletier was featherweight in stature, especially when compared to the six-foot-two, two-hundred-forty pound Jens. Simon was also very openly gay and owned and operated the Flattened Frog Bistro at the south end of Main Street in Bluffington.
"A bistro?" Jens had said in disbelief. Not only had the little, gay Frenchman built on the land next door, he had the gall to open up what Jens called a "pussy restaurant." Jens was a cattle rancher, and the only true restaurant from his point of view was a steakhouse.
Dean was pissed off about the whole episode. It wasn't over between those two. He would be called out repeatedly as they did their best to provoke each other.
Dean drove away from Jens' property and turned onto the back road to get back to town instead of travelling straight down the same road he took there. Driving down the back roads was part of Dean's patrol routine whenever he was out in the country. Primarily, he did it to show a presence and to keep his eyes open for what was happening just outside of town. It had snowed lightly overnight, and Dean could see that only a few vehicles had travelled down these back roads so far this morning. He had just turned from Battersby Road, which ran up and beyond Jens many acres onto Black Pond Road, when one of the old wooden road signs that displayed the posted speed suddenly burst apart into smithereens right in front of him. The small explosion startled Dean out of his daydream of how to deal with Jens and Simon. He slammed on his brakes and looked about, flabbergasted, as the last of the pieces of the wooden sign fluttered to the ground.
Off to his right, Dean spotted a small side trail that angled off into the forest. A clear set of tire tracks was visible in the light snow. Dean stepped on the gas and turned his cruiser down onto the tiny side road. Dean couldn't believe his eyes as the trees opened up, and he immediately turned on his blue and reds. He gave his siren one short burst as only one hundred yards down the tiny forested trail were none other than Willie Wahnkman and Doogie Fisher. The two boys stood alongside Doogie's old, rusty Ford Bronco and Doogie held what appeared to be a shotgun in his hands. Willie fidgeted with a lit cigarette.
Doogie smiled in disbelief and dropped his head as Dean pulled the car to a stop a few yards away from the two of them, the lights still flashing away on the roof. Willie scrambled behind Doogie. His eyes were open wide and filled with obvious fright.
Dean stepped out of the car and unclipped the holster on his gun, making sure the two boys noticed.
"Put the gun on the roof of the vehicle, Doogie, and step away." Dean said. Doogie did as he was told and placed the gun on top the Bronco. He stepped back slowly with his hands halfway raised in the air. He continued his smug smile. He knew he was caught with his pants down this time. This was a very bad start to a Saturday, and Doogie knew it wasn't going to get any better for him.
Dean motioned both boys over to the cruiser and shuffled Willie into the back seat. He wanted Doogie alone. He hustled Doogie over to his Bronco and had him open up the doors, glove box and rear hatch while he scoured about inside. Doogie produced more goodies than Dean had ever expected to find. Dean cuffed Doogie and Willie and drove them down to the station. Doogie was charged with: possession of two unlicensed firearms, illegal transportation of a firearm, illegal discharge of a firearm, possession of marijuana, driving with expired registration, failure to produce a valid driver's license, damage to public property and a few other minor offences. Willie got off a lot lighter with only a few minor offences against him.
It took most of the afternoon to lay all of the charges against Doogie and Willie. Both were eventually released with a court date set for them to answer to all of the charges.
CHAPTER 27
There were two ways to get up to the furnished apartment Sarah rented on the hillside. One was to follow the road along the bottom of the hill west, about half a block, and then double back onto a small side road that crawled its way up the side of the hill to the back of the small apartment building. The other was to walk up the long staircase from the bottom end of Main Street just below Simon's Flattened Frog Bistro. The apartment block was right above and behind the Bistro and was accessible by the staircase that climbed up from the parking lot.
Sarah told Brandy to pull into the parking lot so they could walk up the long staircase. Sarah still only had the bright red suitcase she took when she had l
eft Gerald. She had since purchased more clothes and accessories, but all still fit inside that small suitcase. Brandy carried the other shopping bag with the rest of Sarah's new life.
"Oh this will be such a lovely place to live," Brandy remarked as she turned around half way up the staircase and looked down across the small town in the valley.
Sarah nodded, and smiled enthusiastically. "It is beautiful isn't it?"
Sarah quickly settled into her new, partially furnished apartment with Brandy's help. It was a long morning, and Sarah followed Brandy out to her car and thanked her again for all she had done.
"Grab a coffee with me before you go?" She looked up at the Bistro. "We can probably grab one right here," she said and motioned to the Bistro above them.
"One coffee, and then I really gotta get back."
Sarah was pleased and led the way into the Bistro. They sat at one of the many windows that fronted the Bistro and looked down Main Street. They noticed the little funny Frenchman immediately. He gestured grandly with his arms and pulled many outrageous facial expressions. They watched with curious interest as he spoke with excitement to someone on the phone in the back corner near the kitchen.
"I don't care who he is! My front garden is in a damn state, and I just can't take anymore of this." There was a short pause as the little man rocked back and forth on his heels and his free hand flapped about in the air. He glanced over, and spotted Sarah and Brandy. He forced a short, tight smile of surprise. He obviously didn’t noticed the two of them come in. "I don't care!" he shouted back softly into the phone, now aware of the girls. "I pay you a lot of money, and I want you to see to it that he has my lawn and flower beds fixed up tomorrow!" There was another short pause. "Process? Me pay for it upfront? Oh, you make me so mad. You listen..." There was another short pause. "It wasn't my cows. Why should I have to pay?" He glanced over to the girls again briefly. "No! I don't want to go through insurance. You go out there and sort this out today with him. His cows did this, and I want him to fix this up. I gotta go. I have customers."
Simon flipped his hand in the air towards the girls, grabbed a couple of menus and pranced quickly over. His free hand flapped away with each step.
"Good afternoon ladies," Simon said and smiled. He offered the menus out to each of them. "How are you both doing on this lovely day?"
"Better than you it sounds like," answered Brandy.
Sarah was a bit surprised at the bold response from Brandy.
"Oh, you don't know the half of it," Simon answered back, unabashed by her tart response. He crossed his arms and leaned in to the girls. "My neighbour's cows just tore my front yard to absolute pieces with their hooves. They trampled everything. My dear, dear flower beds are all ruined, and my grass… It was so absolutely perfect and now it's destroyed." He unfolded his arms and gestured grandly again. "I'm in absolute bits about it all."
"I'm so sorry to hear that," Sarah said. She liked Simon immediately. He was open and honest, and his very gay mannerisms were not lost on her.
Simon took their order, and Sarah explained she was new to town and had just taken the apartment out back. The Bistro was very quiet and had only moments ago opened up for the day. Simon soon joined the two girls at the table. He asked how she had come to have the cast on her arm. Sarah shared only a little of the graphic details at first, but soon told the honest truth. She felt immediate comfort when she talked to Simon and felt safe telling him her story about Gerald. It wasn't long before she knew she would be enjoying many coffees at this very window.
CHAPTER 28
"You ready?" Bobby asked.
Ricky said nothing and stared out the side window at the barbed wire-topped fence that surrounded the Spy Hill Correctional Centre.
"It's right in that door there. Just go up to the front and say you are here to see Tommy Oliver. They'll take you the rest of the way." Bobby nudged Ricky and giggled. "Go on, you loser," he said to ease Ricky's nerves.
Ricky smiled back. He punched Bobby hard on the shoulder and scrambled out of the vehicle before Bobby could swing back. He grinned at Bobby and flipped him the finger.
Bobby grabbed onto his sore shoulder and flipped the finger back to him. He nodded to Ricky and urged him forward. He then cranked the volume up on his CD player and laid his seat back. He knew it could be a long time before Ricky returned.
***
Ricky turned toward the large complex, and his grin vanished. The cold December air cut through him as his eyes crawled across the barbwire that separated the inmates from the outside world. He swallowed hard and headed inside to see Tommy.
Inside wasn't what Ricky expected. It seemed more like a hospital than a prison. After going through the security screening, he was quickly ushered into a small empty room that contained only a few tables and chairs. It was brightly lit with soft, lime-green walls. Windows lined the interior wall along the hallway. Ricky sat in a chair at one of the small wooden tables off to the side and waited for Tommy to be brought in.
Tommy strolled in wearing his orange coveralls. He smiled instantly at Ricky and sat across from him. The guard left the room and stood outside the glass door, leaving the boys to talk in private.
"It's about time you came up," Tommy said.
Ricky fidgeted, not sure what to say. "So, what's it like in here?"
"It's okay I guess. They keep us pretty busy."
Ricky looked around uncomfortably.
"How about you?"
Ricky wasn't sure what Tommy meant. "How about me what?"
Tommy laughed and shook his head. "It's not so bad in here. We have a gymnasium, so we can play floor hockey and basketball. There’s a weight room. Food's okay, and they have school here too. Both Jason and I are in classes most of the day. I'll graduate in spring if things go well."
Ricky listened and acknowledged Tommy, but he offered little small talk in return.
Tommy carried on and talked about life in Spy Hill. He talked about the dorms and more about the food. He mentioned there were a few bad asses around and, for the most part, life was pretty structured inside. He missed hockey most of all and asked how the team was doing without him and Jason. He purposely ignored the fact that his dad had been the coach of the Triple A team and was also sorely missed.
"Team’s not doing great. Big downhill slide since... Well..." Ricky stopped talking and he locked eyes with Tommy. It was time.
"There's a reason I haven't been up to see you or Jason." His discomfort was obvious as he continued. "It's about why you're both in here."
Tommy leaned back in his chair. "I guessed as much after the way Bobby came up yesterday and mentioned you wanted to see me. So what's the big secret anyway? You've been on our visitor list from the start. Why haven't you come up until now?"
"Tell me about Tim," Ricky said abruptly.
"Tim?"
"Yeah. What do you know about why Tim killed himself?"
Tommy let out a heavy groan. He rubbed his hand furiously across his short hair. "I'm not sure I know anything about that."
"Of course you do. You talked to Tim the night before he died. He told you something. I know he did."
Tommy shook his head from side to side. "Tim didn’t tell me anything that night. Nothing."
"I don't believe you."
"What do you want me to say? Look around you right now. Where the hell do you think you are? This is a detention centre. What are you expecting me to say? I'm not offering anything up. Not even to you, Ricky." Tommy was highly agitated and glanced over to the guard behind the glass across the room.
The guard opened the door and let in a stressed, middle-aged woman. She looked about uncomfortably and took a seat on the opposite side of the room as she waited for her incarcerated son.
"I think I know why Tim killed himself. And I think it's the same reason you killed you parents," Ricky suggested pointedly.
Tommy suddenly leaned in close to Ricky, and pointed his finger hard at Ricky as he whispered. "Just shut up. Just you shut up for a minute." Tommy looked around the room and took notice of the guard on the other side of the glass door again. Tommy continued to whisper quietly to Ricky. "You don't know anything about what went on. Nothing. And I'm not going to tell you anything, so if that's what you're looking for, then I don't know why you're even here. Me and Jason are just trying to get through this, and we are not saying anything to anybody about what happened. Did somebody put you up to this? Trying to get us to say something?"
Ricky looked back, dumbfounded at Tommy, and he knew what Tommy suspected was at least partially true. His eyes began to water and he wiped at them.
The door to the room opened and another inmate entered and was directed over to the upset, middle-aged woman.
"Okay then," Ricky whispered back and looked momentarily at the two across the room who were already engaged in their own private conversation. "Then I'm going to tell you something that you don't know, and I really hope that you're not going to hate me for what I'm going to tell you." He wiped at his eyes again. "And I think I really do know why Tim killed himself."
Tommy stared back, said nothing and leaned in close.
"I know, Tommy. I know," Ricky said simply.
"What exactly do you know?"
Ricky swallowed hard, and coughed. He was all choked up and trying hard not to implode. "It happened to me too," was all he said and kept his gaze fixed on Tommy.
Tommy stole a glance over to the mother and her son and saw them still highly engrossed in an emotional discussion. He pushed himself away from Ricky and leaned back. Ricky could see Tommy try not to grimace as he turned himself away from Ricky and looked out across the room with a vacant stare. He gazed up to the ceiling and Ricky could only watch as the tears began to run down Tommy's cheeks. He wiped them away quickly.
Tommy began to shake his head in disbelief and kept himself from making any eye contact. He whispered softly in denial. "Not you, Ricky."
