Sintown Chronicles III: In Dark Corners

by David O. Dyer, Sr.

  Ally beamed as she looked around. “There's plenty of room. I wonder if we can find an old-fashioned jukebox. We could set aside a little area for dancing.” She glanced at Cliff, who seemed troubled. “Okay, Scrooge. So it will cost a few bucks."

  He grinned. “Maybe both of you should sit down for this. I like the idea. Video games are real popular too—especially that poker thing."

  "Gambling's not legal in North Carolina,” Roger commented.

  "I know, except for churches running bingo games and Lumbees running casinos. I think there is a version of the poker game that's just for fun. It's worth checking out anyway."

  "Video games don't interest me, but pinball machines do,” Ally said.

  For one of the few times, Roger smiled. “I haven't played pinball since I was a kid."

  Leaving Roger to work on restaurant furniture, Ally and Cliff headed for the workroom.

  "Didn't realize this room was so large,” Cliff commented. “Somehow, it doesn't seem as filthy as the rest of the place."

  "I gave it a lick and a promise,” Ally explained. She began loading the dishwasher.

  Cliff tugged open the door of the upright freezer. “I sure hope this thing works. It'll cost a fortune to replace it. Seems, clean though."

  "It looks like Mr. Wilson cleaned and defrosted both the freezer and matching refrigerator when he closed the restaurant, but it still needs a good scrubbing."

  Cliff chuckled. “Damn, I thought I'd found a way to get out of it."

  "Use plenty of Clorox. The health inspector will pay close attention to the refrigerated units."

  "Health inspector?"

  "You don't know much about running a restaurant, do you Cliff? You can't open a public eatery until the state has inspected and approved it."

  Cliff chuckled. “Eatery? I like that. Whew,” he continued as he poured the pungent fluid into a large bucket. “Clorox stinks."

  Ally started the dishwasher, went back into the restaurant and began washing the coffeemaker. When satisfied that it was clean, she went to the apartment and returned with a can of coffee and filters, which didn't fit exactly but were close enough.

  Cliff came through the door rubbing his eyes. “Those fumes burn,” he complained.

  "You probably have the mixture a little heavy on the Clorox side. Try adding more water to your bucket."

  He inhaled deeply and grinned. “Coffee smells great."

  "I forgot to bring sugar,” Ally apologized.

  "I take mine black,” Roger said.

  "Go get some mugs out of the washer, Cliff. It just cut off."

  "Yes ma'am."

  Each took a mug of the steaming brew to their work areas. Ally put a second load of dishes in the washer and began the task of cleaning under the counter.

  Cliff finished scrubbing the freezer and rinsed it thoroughly. He wanted to test out the unit to see if it worked, but he felt he should leave the door open for an hour or two to air out. He emptied, rinsed and refilled the bucket, putting in less Clorox this time. He removed all the racks from the refrigerator and attacked it's interior.

  An hour later, Ally joined him and whispered, “There's a giant black dude out front who wants to see you. He doesn't look very happy."

  Cliff pushed through the swinging door and introduced himself.

  "There are two large propane tanks out back,” the man said. “Both are sound, full and, thank God, turned off. I tested the line with compressed air. There's a big leak somewhere. If you had tried to light your stove, you'd have blown the place up, yourself included."

  "Can you fix it?"

  The man nodded. “I'm not looking forward to it. The line runs through the crawl space. There's not much room for a man to work and it's full of spider webs. After I find the leak, I can patch it, but I recommend running an entirely new line."

  "What's it gonna cost?” Cliff asked.

  "The cost doesn't matter,” Ally said. “My question is, can you do it this afternoon?"

  The man nodded. “Unless I run into something unexpected, like a huge, hungry spider.” The man was not smiling. “I hate creepy, crawly things."

  "Can I help?” Roger asked as he approached the group.

  "Not much to it if you don't mind working on your back in the dark with a bunch of snakes crawling all over you."

  "I think that if I help with the installation, it should reduce the cost."

  "I work by the hour. The quicker we get done, the less it will cost."

  Ally and Cliff watched Roger and the repairman walk out of the restaurant. “Am I getting soft, Ally?"

  "What are you talking about."

  "I think I am on the verge of liking old Spunky."

  She grinned. “I'll give you a backrub tonight if you call him that to his face."

  Shortly after five, the trio stood in the middle of the restaurant, assessing their work. “Looks good to me,” Cliff said.

  "I can't think of anything else we need to do,” Ally agreed.

  "All right, boss lady,” Cliff kidded, “what next?"

  "I'm pooped and hungry. Let's grab a bite at the Korner Kafe before we tackle another project here."

  "I'll, uh, come back about six thirty if that's okay,” Roger said, looking at his shoe tops.

  "It's not okay,” Ally replied. “Have dinner with us. Cliff's buying."

  Cliff grinned. “Why not?"

  "Well, at least let me run home and shower. Your vacuum cleaner got the spider webs off my clothes, but not out of my hair."

  "Aw, you look okay to me, Spunky."

  Cliff tensed as Roger looked up and locked eyes. Slowly, a hint of a smile crossed his lips. “I haven't been called Spunky since I was a kid. Julie must have told you my nickname."

  Cliff relaxed and grinned. “Why did they call you that?"

  "I was always into something. I couldn't sit still. I'm not sure who first hung that name on me—probably my dad."

  "The years haven't changed you much, have they?"

  "No ma'am. I guess not."

  "All right, Spunky. Meet us at the Kafe.” Cliff glanced at Ally. “And you, Pretty Lady, are at least going to change clothes. Damned if I'm going to be seen in public with you dressed in bib overalls."

  The trio walked to the parking lot and, as Roger drove away, Ally commented, “Sure is a nice car he drives. That's a new Chevy Blazer, isn't it? Wonder how he can afford it. Crap, what now?” she said as a Taurus pulled into the lot and circled towards them.

  "That's Bud Zegra, the Riteway salesman."

  Bud stopped beside them and rolled down the window. “Here's the specs and contract,” he said, poking a thick folder through the open window. “If you have any questions, give me a call tomorrow at home. I'm running late and my wife will skin me alive if I don't get home soon. We have a dinner date tonight."

  "Thanks, Mr. Zegra. We'll study it carefully."

  Bud pulled away, stopped and backed up. “I almost forgot. I'm not trying to rush you, but if you can make a quick decision, let me know tomorrow. The crew can start working on your place Monday. Otherwise it may be a month before they can get to it."

  Ally took the folder from Cliff and glanced through it as they walked to their motel rooms. “Damn, look at this, Cliff."

  Cliff glanced at the open folder. There was a sketch of a rectangular sign. The first line, in large red script outlined in black read, “Dad's Place."

  * * * *

  "What was it like?” Ally asked as she kneaded Cliff's right shoulder.

  He moaned with pleasure and mumbled, “What are you talking about?

  "What was it like in prison?"

  "A paid vacation. What was it like to have your old man beat the crap out of you?"

  She slapped the back of his head playfully. “I don't want to talk about it either. Cliff, I'm as tired as you are. I can't keep this up."

  "You welching on your bet?"

  "I'll give you a rain check."

  "Ten more minutes. Work do
wn to my lower back."

  "How low?” She snickered. “We can move the rest of your stuff in here in the morning."

  "Speaking of morning, I'm going to miss being awakened by the aroma of your coffee."

  "The restaurant looks good, Cliff, and Roger has half the store area clean."

  Cliff chuckled as he rolled over. “He would have it all done by daylight if you hadn't run him off."

  "There's something not right about that man."

  "I agree, but he's a likable cuss."

  "Nice looking, too.” She grinned as she slid her hand up the inside of his thigh.

  "Have you checked out his eyes?"

  She shook her head. “He won't look directly at me."

  Cliff nodded and pretended not to notice the area she was gently stoking. “Our eyes locked just once this afternoon when I called him Spunky. His lips were smiling, but his eyes seemed filled with ... with terror."

  She patted the crotch of his jeans. “You really are tired tonight,” she grinned. She scrambled to the edge of the bed, stretched and yawned. “If you wake up before I do in the morning, you fix the coffee and bring me a cup."

  Ally turned as she reached the door. “Thanks, Cliff."

  He propped up on one elbow. “For what?"

  "For a good day."

  He nodded. “It was a good day, Ally. You're a hell of a woman."

  She smiled. “Some men like flat chests, thank goodness."

  He sat up and crossed his legs. “Yeah, and I'm one of them, but it's not your gorgeous body I'm talking about."

  She nodded. “That's the nicest compliment I've ever received from a man,” she said as she opened the door.

  "Ally?"

  "Yes."

  "It's a long way to your room."

  She nodded. “Fifteen, maybe twenty feet."

  "You could spend the night here,” he said, patting the mattress with his massive right hand.

  "You had to go and spoil it, didn't you?"

  Cliff slipped into his pajama boxer shorts, brushed his teeth and set the alarm clock for five. He wondered what she wore to bed as he crawled between the sheets. He drifted to sleep thinking of sitting on the edge of her bed with a steaming mug of freshly brewed coffee in his hand.

  "What took you so damn long,” Cliff grumbled as he came through the office door, having heard her voice in front of the store.

  "Quit your bellyaching and help me with this stuff,” she said, but Roger beat him to it. “A bucket of chicken and a dozen beers,” she explained.

  Roger nodded and headed for the back booth of the restaurant.

  She glared at Cliff. “That truck of yours is a bucket of bolts."

  "It carried you there and back, didn't it?"

  "Just barely. You have a taillight out. A state trooper stopped me and gave me a warning ticket."

  As they walked towards the restaurant area he mumbled, “It doesn't take four hours to get a damn sales tax certificate."

  "How do you know? Did you ever apply for one?"

  She slid into the booth and Cliff sat beside Roger, opposite her.

  "Didn't have breakfast, Roger apologized with a half eaten chicken leg in his hand. “I couldn't wait."

  Ally smiled at him as she slid a paper plate towards Cliff and helped herself to a thigh. “We were lucky the tax office was open on a Saturday morning."

  "Why did it take so long?"

  "It didn't. As soon as I got to Charlotte I pulled into a service station and asked for directions. I drove straight to the office and was out of there within thirty minutes."

  "Then why did it take so long? This place isn't going to clean itself up, you know."

  Roger glanced at Cliff, but said nothing.

  "Put some food in your mouth and hush,” she teased. “I'm getting to that. On my way to the office I passed the Carolina Distribution Center."

  "What's that?"

  "Turns out it's a beer wholesaler. They'll be stocking us up sometime Monday.” She chuckled. “The salesman must have thought I looked pretty good. The beer you're guzzling is a freebie."

  "Damn, Ally. We don't even know if the coolers work."

  "The ones in the restaurant do, Butthead, and I'll bet the coolers in the store work too."

  Roger focused his eyes on Ally's plate. “Did you ask about draft?"

  She nodded as she chewed. “They're going to fix us up either Monday or Tuesday but we can't sell it for a while."

  Cliff looked at her. “Why not?"

  "We need an ABC license."

  Cliff shook his head.

  "I went back to the state tax office and filled out an application. The lady said it would take a week or so unless..."

  "Unless what?"

  "Cliff, I filled out the form honestly. Maybe I should have forgotten that you served time."

  "What's that got to do with it?"

  "The lady said the board is often hesitant to issue a license to anyone with a record. They'll do a full background check.” Her voice dropped. “She said it could take months."

  "Uh, Cliff?” Roger said.

  Cliff whirled his head towards Roger. “What?” he said gruffly.

  "You have a phone in your apartment?"

  "It's Julie's apartment now, and yes, there's a phone in it."

  "May I make a long distance call?"

  "Why not?” Cliff groused as he slid out of the seat. He watched Roger hurry across the floor, sat back down and looked at Ally. “They say I've paid my debt to society, but the truth is, that debt can never be paid."

  "Cliff, what happened while I was gone? You were in such a good mood this morning.” She grinned. “The coffee was delicious."

  "You should have told me you sleep in the buff."

  "I didn't know you were coming to my room uninvited,” she countered.

  "You did invite me, damn it."

  Ally smiled. “Yeah, I guess I did."

  "I wanted to surprise you—start your day off on a good note."

  She reached across the table and placed her hand on his. “You did,” she said sincerely. “Did you like what you saw?"

  "I wish your damn ex-husband was still alive."

  She looked at him quizzically.

  "So I could have the pleasure of killing him."

  "You did,” she said quietly.

  "That was an accident. If I knew then what I know now..."

  "I know they're still discolored, Cliff, but they don't hurt much anymore. You could have touched them."

  "I should have just left the coffee on the bedside table and not looked."

  "Yeah,” she said as she chewed a bite of biscuit. “Now everything is out of balance."

  "Out of balance?"

  She nodded as she sipped her beer. “You've seen me naked but I haven't seen you."

  "Do you ... do you want to remedy that?"

  "There won't be any problem with the license,” Roger said as he approached the booth.

  Cliff and Ally turned towards Roger with guilty expressions on their faces. Roger, with his eyes on the floor, didn't notice. He waited for Cliff to get up so he could slide into the seat. “I still have a few friends at the Agency."

  Chapter Twelve

  Cliff came through the office door wiping perspiration from his forehead with his drenched handkerchief. “Man, it's hot in that little hole and the air conditioner doesn't work."

  "I'll have a look at it,” Roger offered as he admired the gondola he had just finished scrubbing.

  Cliff nodded. “If we have to replace it, we're still ahead of the game. All the other window units work, but probably need servicing with Freon or something. I have tools in the back of my pickup. Help yourself."

  "Freon is no longer legal,” Roger commented as he wiped his hands on his jeans. “There are substitutes that work well in some appliances but not in others. Maybe we'll be lucky."

  As Roger headed for the parking lot, Cliff helped Ally tug a large, heavy box from under the counter. “I've cl
eaned the office as best I can,” he said. “The filing cabinet and desk are crammed full of papers. I don't know what to keep and what to throw out. You have restaurant experience. Maybe you should have a look."

  Ally opened the cardboard box and replied, “I think that's something Julie needs to do. It's her father's records, you know."

  Cliff chuckled as Roger passed on his way to the office. “I have an idea that getting Julie to do anything related to the businesses is going to be next to impossible. What's that stuff?” he asked, pulling back a flap of the box for a better look.

  "Cash register tape,” she replied.

  He picked up a roll and examined it. “This one is defective."

  "What's wrong with it?"

  He fingered the edge of the paper. “Two strips of paper are on the same roll."

  She grinned and punched his arm gently. “Sometimes I think you're hopeless. The top strip is the customer receipt. The bottom is detail paper. It's for our records."

  The sound of a vehicle entering the gravel parking lot attracted their attention. “Speak of the devil,” Ally grinned as she glanced through the spotless plate glass at the front of the store.

  Cliff checked his watch. “Four o'clock. She's earlier than I expected."

  Cliff and Ally reached the parking lot as Julie emerged from her Cavalier. “Welcome home, Pretty Lady!” Cliff greeted.

  Julie nodded. “Ally, Clyde. Excuse me. I have to pee.” She marched to the apartment unit and disappeared inside.

  "Damn,” Cliff muttered. “She acts like she owns the place."

  Ally grinned and jammed her elbow into his side. She peered into Julie's car. “Look at all this crap, Cliff."

  Cliff joined her and placed his arm lightly around her waist. “I suppose the black metal thing is the aquarium stand and the glass thing is the aquarium, but what are all those huge sealed buckets?"

  "Cliff!"

  He turned towards the apartment.

  "I want the aquarium set up on the side wall where you had the two easy chairs,” Julie instructed. “Be careful with it. When you can get to it, bring in the red bucket and take off the top. Then bring in the rest of the stuff. Where's Spunky?"

  "He's in the office working on the air conditioner."