Boo Hiss

by Rene Gutteridge

“Melb! It’s just a fantasy!”

  Melb was pointing and gesturing at the window. “Sha … sha.

  “Shark?” Ainsley frowned. “You’re pretending to see a shark? Melb! This is supposed to be a fantasy where nothing bad happens! You’re supposed to be relaxing!” Ainsley had reached her boiling point. “You are going to have to get ahold of yourself! Find a way to deal with this! Babies are a blessing!”

  Melb, however, was furiously shaking her head, and still pointing. “Sha—” Melb was trembling all over. Ainsley didn’t realize she had such a vivid imagination. “Shadow!”

  “Shadow?”

  Melb hurried toward her. “It just passed across the window. I swear it. It looked like a man.” She turned to Ainsley. “Somebody’s out there!”

  CHAPTER 10

  WOLFE WALKED HIS USUAL ROUTE to the coffee shop, which was now called a coffeehouse. The townspeople didn’t seem to mind the name change either—what with all the frills attached. The store was seeing more business than it had in a long time. And though most people still stayed with the black coffee, a few ventured out and tried the riskier versions, such as coffee with foam.

  Wolfe had gone to get coffee this morning for multiple reasons. First of all, he was completely exhausted and had finished the entire pot at home. Last night, he’d driven all the way back from Chicago, only to be greeted by a houseful of people worried about a snake, which probably was only a vacuum cleaner hose. But Oliver wasn’t convinced, and so now they had houseguests who would surely stay until the snake was caught.

  He was supposed to meet Alfred here in thirty minutes. They had hardly discussed anything after the conference. On their drive home Alfred had fallen asleep in the passenger’s seat five minutes after they left Chicago.

  He yawned his way in, and was immediately flagged down by his father-in-law and Butch. “You look wiped out,” the sheriff said, rubbing his own bloodshot eyes.

  “Luckily,” Butch said, “I’m trained for this sort of thing, or I’d probably need a nap. But I won’t sleep until I find out what happened last night.”

  To Wolfe’s horror, the uproar continued long into the night after Melb claimed she’d seen someone outside the back window of his house. Ainsley said the dogs had never barked, so Wolfe was immediately skeptical. Butch found footprints, but it hadn’t rained in a week, so they could’ve been anybody’s.

  At least it was giving Butch something to do.

  Just as Butch was getting ready to explain a tactical plan for catching the elusive shadow, the door to the coffee shop opened, and a man who looked like he’d jumped out of an adventure novel breezed in. He nodded at a few customers, apparently aware he would be pegged immediately as the stranger in town. He wore a light tan Panama shirt, with a leather vest too small for his broad chest and an overly accessorized belt that drew attention to the belly that hung over it.

  He looked to be a mix between a ranch hand and fashion disaster. As he passed by their table, he smiled and said, “G’day.”

  “He sounds Australian,” the sheriff whispered as the man approached the counter.

  “It’s a fake accent,” Butch said. “And those aren’t real snake boots, either.”

  They watched as the man ordered his coffee, then left without another bother.

  “Come on,” Butch said. “Let’s go do a little investigating. Something smells fishy about this guy.”

  “Or at the very least a little bit horsy,” Wolfe smiled. No one caught his joke.

  “You coming, Wolfe?” the sheriff asked, plopping his hat on his head.

  “I’m meeting Alfred.” He looked at both of their serious faces. “But keep me updated.”

  “Will do,” the sheriff said, and out they went. Wolfe went to order some coffee. He had been unable to sleep in this morning, and he had a horrible headache. Melb had confined herself to the bathroom, shouting repeatedly at Oliver to bring her crackers and Sprite.

  Ainsley wasn’t much better to be around. She was still reeling about an episode from last night she could only describe as “hormonal insanity.” She didn’t fix breakfast, and hardly left the bedroom. Wolfe could only wonder if Melb was any indication about what his life might be like when Ainsley got pregnant. But with all her crazy charts and schedules, would he ever get a chance to try? Marriage had been great, but he was certainly not prepared for the emergence of idiosyncrasies that had more than once prompted a little doubt. He loved Ainsley, and that’s what kept him focused. But marriage was certainly challenging. He said a short prayer for Oliver, who he imagined was pulling out the last of what little hair he had.

  Wolfe slowly drank his coffee and gnawed on a scone, relishing the serenity of the moment. But it didn’t last long. The door opened, the cool air hit his face, and Alfred bore down on him.

  “Coffee,” he mumbled, dropping his coat on the chair and wandering off to the counter. He returned shortly, his face a little perkier. “This place has done a turnaround. They actually have a macchiato!” He gestured with his thumb and said, “And I just noticed a cell phone store across the street.”

  “Really?” Wolfe tried to look out the front window.

  “That’s exciting news. Maybe that means I can get service now. No offense, but it’s like the Death Valley of the cell phone connection around here. My phone doesn’t even roam. It just drops dead.”

  Wolfe shook his head. It was hard to imagine a cell phone store opening up. Why would a town so small that a person only had to dial the last four digits of a local phone number need cell phones?

  Alfred took his seat and crossed his legs more flamboyantly than most men. His dark, shiny shoe swung as he carefully folded his hands on top of the table. “So,” he said. “You have a lot of explaining to do.”

  Wolfe grinned. By the time he’d found Alfred at the conference, he looked ready to jump into Wolfe’s arms. Apparently Alfred had become quite a quick celebrity among the writers. A few had encircled him when Wolfe found him in the main conference lounge. “We haven’t even had a chance to really talk. You slept like a baby all the way home. I thought I was going to have to carry you to your hotel room.”

  “Funny. It was our first writers’ conference, but you somehow managed to disappear for over two hours.”

  “I was pitching my book, like you told me to. It was time well spent. Harry Rector is a nice man.”

  “Well, while you were frolicking with the industry executives, I was busy watching my back. I had three ladies offer to pray over me. And over me’ wasn’t well enough defined for me to give permission. I tell you, that’s a whole other world, isn’t it?”

  “I loved it.”

  “You would.”

  “Well, what did you do while I was gone?”

  Alfred traced his hairline, and a wicked grin emerged. “I can’t help but brag. I think I may have found the new It girl.”

  Wolfe laughed. “The It girl?”

  “Doris Buford.” He flicked his hand. “Her name doesn’t exactly have a bestseller ring to it, but she uses a pen name and is a fantastic writer. I would even call her literary.”

  Wolfe frowned. “You never called me literary.”

  Alfred engaged him, now tracing his coffee lid. “Wolfe, you are a fine writer. No doubt about that. But Doris … now this woman has command of the language. She had me weeping.” He raised an eyebrow. “I screamed once when reading a book of yours, but never cried. Except that time you played that practical joke and sent me that stupid fake ending where everyone, including the protagonist and narrator, gets murdered.”

  Wolfe smiled. “That was a good one.”

  “Anyway, all was not lost. I’m getting more comfortable with this religious fiction industry. And I’m pretty sure I can groom Doris to take all.” He studied Wolfe. “You look terrible. You’re not jealous, are you?”

  “Please. I’m happy for you. I’m glad you’re taking this all seriously.”

  “So what’s wrong with you?”

  “Long night,
” Wolfe growled. “I can’t even begin to explain it.”

  “Trouble on the home front?”

  “Well, if by ‘home front’ you mean that my house has now turned into Hotel California, then yes.”

  “I won’t ask,” Alfred said, waving his hand. “Let’s talk about me. You know, I’m a pretty open-minded person, but I have to be honest, there were some things I saw last night that totally shocked me.”

  “Was it the class on levitating?”

  “You’re on a roll. I thought Harry said levitate, not meditate, and had he said levitate, then of course it would’ve been cause for alarm. I’ll admit, I overreacted, but it was sort of a tense day.” He paused. “I met this other agent. Nice woman.”

  Wolfe waited. “And?”

  “That’s what I mean. Nice woman.”

  “That’s shocking?”

  “In an agent, yes. Oh sure, we have our charming smiles and winsome handshakes, which fool a great deal of the literary general public. But agents can never fool other agents. Beneath all the niceties, we know the eye of a snake when we see it.”

  “Interesting.”

  “When I was an editor, we just pretended it wasn’t there. After all, the agent is the lifeline, so if you want the big author, you better make nice with the big agent. But you put a group of agents together in a room, and it’s death by radiant smile.”

  “So this woman obviously impressed you.”

  “She was genuinely nice. I had my claws into Doris Buford, but at the end of the night, this agent was happy that I had her, even though she knew her first. She seemed excited that I had a new client.”

  “I’m happy for you, Al.”

  “What about you? Any new ideas for a book? Did the conference finally light that long-diffused fire?”

  “It was informative. Met a lot of good people.”

  “What about a story idea, Wolfe? I’m glad you enjoyed the socializing, but do I have to remind you that as likable as you are, you still have to have a story?”

  “I know. I’m working on it. There’s no hurry.”

  Alfred glanced at his watch. “Ooooh! Gotta go.” He jumped up and pulled his coat on, swinging his expensive scarf around his neck.

  “Where are you going?”

  Alfred smiled gently. “Wolfe, I know this is going to be hard on you. I really do. But you’re going to have to understand that you’re not the center of my universe anymore. There was a time, yes indeed, where my world rotated around your star. But I’ve got to make a living. And as truly happy as I am that you’ve found your inner child, or you’ve aligned yourself with the planets, or—”

  “Found God,” Wolfe sighed.

  “Right. As happy as I am about that, I can’t wait around for the Almighty to inspire you.”

  Wolfe felt himself growing angry, but he managed to smile. “Sure. I understand. So where are you going?”

  “Believe it or not, Doris Buford lives fifty miles north of here. We’ve got an appointment in an hour.”

  “Great. Good for you.”

  Alfred toasted the air with his coffee. “Here’s to promising new talent!”

  Katelyn thought she might cry with delight. Tears were actually forming in her eyes. The young man behind the counter, who looked like he was barely out of junior high but assured her he was eighteen, had a face full of expectation.

  “I have bars,” Katelyn said. She turned the face of the phone toward him. “I have bars!”

  “Whoa,” Billy breathed. “I can’t believe it. Try to call me!”

  She quickly dialed the number, which was displayed on a huge sign hanging in the window of the cell phone store. Within seconds, the phone rang.

  “Hello?” Billy said.

  “Wait,” Katelyn said, holding up a finger. “I can’t hear you. It sounds like it’s still ringing.”

  “Yes, that’s right! We have service, up and running!” he grinned.

  Katelyn shook her head. “Hold up. It’s just ringing. I can’t hear your voice.”

  “Well of course you can! Just walk through that door and you’re on your way!”

  Katelyn frowned. Okay, maybe he was right. Moving toward the door might help. But when she did, nothing changed. “Let me dial again,” she said.

  “Not necessary. All you have to do is step fearlessly into the twenty-first century, my friend.”

  “What?”

  “No sir, cell phones don’t cause brain cancer. All right, see you soon.” The kid winked at Katelyn and then hit the Flash button. “Hello?” His voice boomed through the phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Sorry about that. I think we might have our first customer coming in!”

  Katelyn hung up the phone and walked back toward the kid. “I could hear you loud and clear.”

  “That’s awesome.”

  “Who was on the phone?”

  “That was Mr. Horton. He doesn’t even own a microwave.”

  “I can’t believe nobody noticed the tower going up on the highway.”

  “Oh, they noticed. There were all kinds of theories about what it was.”

  “No one knew it was a cell phone tower?”

  “That was a guess. Among other things … like an alien space station.”

  “Don’t people understand the freedom a cell phone can bring?”

  “I know. It would be cool to stand out on my front lawn and call Jeff at his house.”

  “Who is Jeff?”

  “My friend. He lives across the street.”

  “Right. And you could check in with your mom when you’re out late.”

  “Oh, my mom won’t let me get one. She says they cause brain cancer.”

  She hoped she hadn’t become too optimistic about how quickly this town was going to conform. “Well, just remember, greet everyone with a friendly smile and keep it simple. We don’t need people to know how to access the satellite code, just how to dial their buddy to meet for coffee.”

  “Right. And I’m going to have to come up with some good reasons why calling them at home wouldn’t work. But I’m on top of it. I have a goal of signing up five people today.”

  “Very good,” Katelyn said. “You sound ambitious. What did you say your last job was?”

  “I sold bulletins for a dollar at the church.” He shrugged at her shocked expression. “Hey, let me tell you, when you have to start selling something people expect for free, you’ve got to recognize the fact that you have an exceptional salesman’s ability.”

  “Right,” she said. “Well, we’ve gone over everything. My husband, Michael, will be in soon to check on you.”

  “Michael the Manager. Has a nice ring to it.”

  “Call me on my cell if you have any questions, okay?”

  “Gotcha.”

  Katelyn walked outside and stood on the sidewalk. The air was so fresh and clean here. Tall pines framed the picturesque town and its blue sky. She decided a large mocha was in order. She walked across the street to the other sidewalk and headed toward the coffeehouse.

  As she did, she passed a strange-looking fellow. He looked like the crocodile hunter, except for his pale skin, orange hair, and freckled face. He was curiously out of place here with his leather pants and jungle shirt. She stepped aside as he walked past. He gave her a wink and a half smile. There was a determined twinkle in his eye as he marched forward.

  “That’s strange,” she heard someone say. She glanced to her right, and two men, totally bald, sat in front of the barber shop with their newspapers held erect in their laps. One chewed a smokeless cigar.

  “That man?” the other said.

  “Yeah. He’s not from these parts.”

  “You got that right. First of all, look how he walks.”

  “No kidding. There’s bowlegged, but then there’s that.”

  “Suppose he’s from Texas? They got some big bulls down that way.”

  “Naw. That’s no Texan. His belt buckles too small.” The man with the cigar folded his newspa
per. “No sirree. I can tell you where that fellow is from.”

  “Where?”

  “The suburbs.”

  “The suburbs?”

  “Strange breed of people.”

  “They dress like that?”

  “They’re as senseless with their fashion as they are with their cars and houses. The last time I checked, there wasn’t a need for more bathrooms than you have people in your house.”

  “So that’s a suburbanite.”

  “Things are changing, Rich. You can smell it in the air. If I’m lucky, I’ll die in this decade before I see the robots take over our town.” He sighed heavily. “Margaret loves all this. She can’t stay out of that stupid bookstore. She claims she’s drawn to the sofa. I say, ‘Margaret, we got a big honkin’ sofa in our own home!’ It doesn’t seem to matter. A sofa surrounded by books apparently is a better sofa.” He stared across the street. “And now we got that!” He pointed to the cell phone store, where a few people mingled outside, looking into the windows. “Lord have mercy is all I have to say.”

  Suddenly the two men noticed Katelyn listening in on their conversation.

  “That’s another one,” cigar-man whispered. “That kind of blond doesn’t come naturally on God’s green earth.”

  “It won’t be long now,” the other one said. “Pretty soon, all the suburbanites will take over our town.”

  Katelyn folded her arms and huffed away. For their information, Skary, Indiana, was not destined to be a suburb. It was far too remote to be a suburb. It was, in fact, destined to be an X-burb. But of course, these two men were too closeminded to care what that was. Or the potential this wonderful town had to offer.

  She swung her shearling handbag over her shoulder and walked past the men with a dismissive flounce.

  Now, where had she parked her Suburban?

  It wasn’t the cast of Shakespeare in Love, but she was pretty sure she could manage this group of people into some sort of interesting dramatics. The closest any one of them had come to actually being in a play was Martin, who had understudied in The Lion in Winter in college. But his prayers for the lead to grow ill or break a leg were not granted, and therefore he’d never actually performed in front of an audience.