Boo Hiss

by Rene Gutteridge

  “I’m not touching any such thing.”

  “Just listen, will you? If we’re going to do this, we’re both going to have to approach this snake like the pet that it is. So the first thing you should know is that although a boa’s bite can cause a lot of bleeding, it isn’t fatal and doesn’t hurt more than a cat scratch. And in fact, it won’t even bleed if you can manage to keep your hand or arm completely still when the snake strikes.”

  “Sure. No problem.”

  “Don’t be sarcastic, Wolfe. I’m just giving you the facts.”

  “A plan would be nice.”

  “The first part of the plan is to make the snake familiar with us. We’re not sure how much Dustin handled the snake, but we know it was probably handled at least a little. However, it’s been gone from that environment for so long, it may not be used to human touch.”

  “You’re not serious. We have to touch it?”

  “Wolfe, how on earth do you think we’re going to capture it? With pleasant conversation and an invitation for cheesecake?”

  “I’m not touching it.”

  “Hear me out. The first thing we have to do is find a large, cloth bag a little larger than a pillowcase because it’s definitely not going to fit in a pillowcase. We place the bag near the snake. It will be drawn into it because it’s dark. Once it is in there, we close the bag, and then we begin to start touching the bag. We sort of stroke the body of the snake until it gets used to being touched. After that, you will remove the snake and hold it against your warm body—”

  “Or your dead body.”

  “It sounds extreme. But once we get it in the sack, we can probably transport it. It’s going to take both of us though.”

  Wolfe massaged his temples. “I can’t imagine holding a snake, much less a two-headed snake.”

  “I won’t lie. It was freaky. The sack will help. We won’t have to look at it’s heads.”

  “How in the world do we get to the snake in the first place? Won’t it hear us coming?”

  “Snakes don’t have ears, Wolfe. But they do feel vibrations. That’s where my training will come in handy. I can teach you to walk without making a sound.”

  Wolfe downed his coffee. This was not the solution he had in mind for the mother of all maternal crises, but it was the only one that seemed somewhat plausible. If the snake’s caught, Melb will have to return home and Ainsley will have to return to normal.

  Butch was slicing his eggs. “You know what I’ve found in life, Wolfe? There’s not much to fear. I’ve been in some of the most dangerous situations imaginable, but God delivered me. And even if death had corne, my life would’ve continued on in a better place. Is a two-headed snake going to get your heart pounding? You better believe it. But just think of all the great stories you can tell about how you handled a two-headed snake. Surely that’s fodder for a book.”

  “I’m not looking for fodder,” Wolfe lied.

  “Well then you must be looking for a way to get your life back to normal.”

  He couldn’t even pretend to lie about that.

  “So will you help me?” Butch asked, finishing up his breakfast and stuffing bacon into his jacket pocket.

  Wolfe leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath. A lot was riding on this, mostly at a personal level, but the town was still reeling from it too. It would sure make the sheriff’s job easier. Plus, he couldn’t deny, there was a certain amount of manliness at stake.

  “Okay,” Wolfe sighed. “I’ll help you. But I am not holding the snake against my warm body’”

  Butch nodded and pushed his plate back. “We’ll just have to get creative.”

  “That’s what scares me. So where is the snake?”

  “At Gordon and Alba’s farmhouse, in the basement.” Butch stood and threw down a few dollars. “I’ll be in touch.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’ve got to go see my dad, talk some sense into him about this fling he thinks he needs.”

  “You’ll do no such thing!”

  “He’s my dad, Wolfe. I don’t think you have a lot to say.”

  “Your father came to me and confided in me about a personal matter. He expects me to keep it private.”

  Butch laughed. “Private. That’s funny.”

  “What’s so funny about it?”

  “Nothing is private, Wolfe. And by nothing, I mean nothing. I can access anything from anybody anytime I want.”

  “Good for you. But you are not going to talk to your father about this. Unless he spills the beans to you, you’re not going to talk to him about it.”

  “You’re going to physically stop me?” Butch said, puffing out his chest.

  “If I have to.”

  “I’d like to see that. I have four black belts.”

  “Well, I have knowledge of a certain snake. And its whereabouts.”

  Butch’s chest deflated. “You got me. Information is one of the most deadly weapons around. All right. I’ll back off Dad. For now. But all bets are off after we find that snake.” Butch moved past him.

  “Butch, what’s the deal? Don’t you want your father to find companionship?”

  “Why? He’s got me.”

  “Hi,” Ainsley said. She stepped down the basement stairs as timidly as a mouse-hunting kitten. She didn’t want to admit it, but this Katelyn Downey made her unsure of herself.

  “Oh, hi,” Katelyn said. She was covered in paint and had ratty old overalls on, but the look did nothing to ruffle her perpetual air of perfection. Setting down her paintbrush and wiping her hands on her rag, she met Ainsley halfway. “Good to see you.”

  “Thanks. You too,” Ainsley said. How did she get her hair to do that? So perky. Before now, Ainsley’s seemed admirable because of its lack of split ends.

  “You sound tired. Are you feeling okay?”

  “Oh, yeah, fine. Just up with the … the.

  “Kids? I know how it feels. It can wreak havoc on your eyes.” She smiled and avoided Ainsley’s gaze. Ainsley touched the puffy patch of skin below each eye. She didn’t think they were that noticeable. “So? What do you think of the mural?” Katelyn asked.

  “It’s nice. Makes this room look so colorful.”

  “We’re going to be adding purple carpet. We’ll have a TV in that corner, a puppet castle over there, and then of course a little beverage bar. All proceeds go to God, which will teach the kids to give.”

  Ainsley wanted to point out that it would only teach them to expect something in return, but then she spotted the tape measure. Her curiosity disrupted any further thought. “The reverend said you were down here measuring.”

  “Yes. I’ll be honest. I’ve been worried about space. I wanted to get an exact idea of how many tables we can fit down here.”

  Ainsley pulled a tape measure out of her purse. “I can tell you that.”

  “Here,” Katelyn said, taking a piece of paper out of her pocket. “The measurements are written down there.”

  Ainsley took the paper and studied it. Measurements down to every detail, including the small window that of course would need to be centered with the table.

  “Eight-foot tables?” Katelyn asked.

  “Yes,” Ainsley said. “So that means two tables on the east wall,”

  “And one on the west,” Katelyn added.

  “But we can add a four-foot table for drinks over on the south wall.”

  “Exactly. Right by the beverage bar.” She clapped her hands. “That will be perfect.”

  “And will keep the traffic flowing in one direction.”

  “Which is always important.” Katelyn said this while studying Ainsley’s shoes.

  Ainsley couldn’t decide if she loved or hated this woman. Here was a lady who embodied everything dear to Ainsley. She understood that the way a room is laid out is of utmost importance. She understood décor and fine food and table settings. She was energized by things being exactly right, evident in her attention to detail on the mural and Ainsley�
�s shoes. So why did this woman aggravate her so?

  Not knowing what else to do, she decided to stare at Katelyn’s shoes. They were multicolored canvas. Which of course would go perfectly with paint-stained overalls. Ainsley glanced down at her own shoes and—

  She gasped. Katelyn turned back to the wall, and Ainsley stared down at her feet. Mismatched shoes?! How could it have happened? They were close, one a dark brown, one a soft black, but still. She wanted to sink into the floor and cry.

  Instead, she decided to try to hold her head high. She noticed a photo album lying on the table. It gave her something to do other than continue to horrify herself, so she decided to go take a peek. “What’s the photo album for?”

  Katelyn followed her to the table. “It’s one of my Creative Memories albums.”

  Ainsley flipped open the first page. Each picture was framed perfectly with dainty pink and green mats, plus festive stickers and typed labels. She looked closer. It was a picture of Main Street. She turned the page, and the next page. They were all pictures of Skary. And as she got to the middle of the book, she began seeing pictures of the new coffeehouse, the bookstore, the new deli, and then the cell phone store. At the back of the book were pictures of the church. Ainsley bent over the book, hardly believing her eyes. There on one page was a drawing of their church, with two other buildings surrounding it, plus a deluxe playground.

  Katelyn said, “Those are just some drawings I did. Just playing around with some ideas.”

  “That’s our church.”

  “Behind the church is the multiplex, which will house a gym, a theater, and classrooms. On the other side are the offices and children’s area.

  Ainsley couldn’t believe what she was seeing. After getting over the shock and pure, undeniable envy of how perfectly organized these pictures were, along with color-coordinated stickers and mats and page numbers, she then had to deal with the idea that Katelyn Downey had a much bigger plan for Skary, Indiana, than just adding coffee flavors. She flipped back through the pages, trying to grasp it all. She did notice, with more than a bit of pleasure, that Katelyn didn’t seem to know colors all that well. Throughout the pastel-colored album, touches of red in the form of arrows clashed conspicuously.

  Ainsley closed the book and turned to Katelyn, who was busy fixing her ponytail. As she was standing there observing how masterfully Katelyn could use her fingers (and not a brush) to accomplish such a task, something extraordinary happened to Ainsley, something she was not sure she’d ever felt before.

  “That’s an interesting choice of red you’ve put in your album.” Ainsley stood with one foot behind the other, feeling equally empowered and ashamed by her snide remark. What had this woman done to her? It was jealousy in its worst form, and she knew it. But that didn’t wipe the self-satisfied smile off her face.

  Katelyn smiled back. “That’s actually not red. It’s called Crimson Blood.”

  “Among pastels?”

  “To stand out. It represents all the territory that I haven’t fully conquered yet.”

  Lois Stepaphanolopolis divided her clothes. On one side of the closet were “Martin outfits” which consisted of polished cotton shirts, jackets, and pants in more modest cuts, such as black pantsuits. On the other side were Sheriff Parker-appropriate clothes—more polished cotton with plunging necklines and bright colors, paired with a few floral wrap skirts. And of course everything had shoulder pads. Lois didn’t mind that she hadn’t updated her wardrobe since her twenty-pound weight gain of ‘87. She knew how to make an outfit look good. It was all about the walk and the shade of lipstick.

  It had been years since she’d dated, and even then, weeks went by between dates, so having two men interested in her at one time was extraordinary and nothing short of miraculous. She could admit it—she loved the attention.

  She was still unsure which man was right for her. Martin Blarty was not her type, not by a long shot. She had few rules about men she dated, but one of them was that he had to have a larger shoulder span than she. Though a smaller man, Martin did carry himself well, and something about him made Lois feel that no matter what the crisis, he would come through. There was this sense that he had a solution for every problem. He was the kind of man that might have entered every relational challenge he could think of into a spreadsheet of some sort, and calculated out their chances of coming through successfully. He wouldn’t be pursuing her so hard if he didn’t think it could work. And though her heart didrít pitter-patter at the sound of his voice, she couldn’t deny that the way he treated her made her feel special.

  Then there was Sheriff Parker, a.k.a. Irwin, a.k.a. Bart. He was much more of an enigma. The mans intense stare could buckle her knees, and she loved the way she had to stare up into his eyes. A certain power exuded from him. He walked with a purposeful stride. Strutted, actually. But he carried it off well, especially for his age. She couldn’t shake the feeling that he was a little confused about who he should be in love with. It was a common hazard among actors. They start to believe the role they play, and therefore project their playacting emotions into real life.

  Lois backed out of her closet, after organizing her shoes according to heel height, and closed the door. One thing she knew for certain. She was going to have to keep these two men as separate as possible. The less they knew about each other, the better. She was not in an exclusive dating relationship, so there was no reason she couldn’t or shouldn’t test-drive both varieties. But she knew for certain that she couldn’t play one against the other. Both men had fragile egos, and with that came the risk of losing it all. A couple more weeks dating them both would help her figure out which she was more attracted to. It was simply a matter of keeping a distinct record of heart palpitations.

  Lois went to the kitchen to fix herself a healthy salad with a side of loaded potato. But before she could even get the pound of cheese out of the fridge, she heard a knock at the front door. She smiled as she fluttered across the living room. She just knew it was one of her favorite men, possibly with roses or chocolates. Smelling, she was sure, like the cologne she loved.

  She swung open the door. Well, she was right about the roses. And the chocolates. And the cologne. Martin and Irwin stood shoulder to head under the porch light.

  CHAPTER 19

  “GENTLEMEN,” LOIS SQUEAKED. “What … what are you both, urn, doing here?”

  The two men glanced at each other and then at Lois. “Well,” Martín began, “we came to woo you.”

  The sheriff said, “But apparently we both had the woo idea.”

  “I like to woo with roses.”

  “I woo with dark chocolates.”

  “I would have rung before I wooed except I really wanted to surpwise—er, surprise—you.”

  Two woos. Huh. “Who wooed first?” Lois asked.

  “We arrived to woo at the same time,” the sheriff said.

  “The chances of that are actually astronomical,” Martin added.

  “Well,” Lois said, not knowing what else to do, “why don’t you both come in?”

  The men looked at each other, both obviously concerned. But neither looked like they wanted to turn down the invitation either.

  “Sure, why not?” the sheriff said, and both men squeezed through the doorway at the same time. Lois shut the front door and offered them each a seat.

  “Martin, let me put the roses in some water.” She smelled them and said, “They’re beautiful, thank you.”

  “Chocolate?” the sheriff asked, opening the box.

  The array of chocolates beckoned her attention. “May I see the map?”

  “What map?”

  “It’s on the inside of the lid.” She took it from him. He looked confused. Possibly because he’d never known there was a map. The map was the only thing one needed to stay away from the possibility of biting into one with orange filling. “Yum. This one looks good.” She took a truffle.

  The sheriff glanced at Martin and grudgingly offered him one too.
Martin took the middle one. “Thanks,” Martin said, popping it into his mouth. Then he made a face. He didn’t look at the map.

  The sheriff closed the box.

  Lois put the roses in a vase and offered the men drinks. Both declined. She sat across from her two suitors, crossed her legs, and folded her hands together.

  “Well,” she said after several seconds of awkward silence except for the orange chocolate smacking inside Martins mouth, “I guess it’s obvious that I’ve been dating both of you. I didn’t want to hurt either of you, but the fact of the matter is that I’m attracted to you both.”

  Martin and the sheriff smiled at each other. In a woman’s world, that would’ve jump-started a cat fight.

  “You each have certain unique qualities that I’m attracted to. I was hoping you wouldn’t find out about each other, but now that you have, I think that’s probably healthy. Keeping secrets is never a good way to start a relationship.”

  “All right. Fine!” Martin blurted. “I wear heel lifts!”

  Lois hastily added, “I meant concerning me. Dating both of you.”

  The sheriff was staring at Martin’s shoes, and Martin was staring at the box of chocolates. She was losing control of this situation. If she was going to have the two men she adored in her house at the same time, the attention was going to have to be on her.

  So she did what any self-respecting drama queen would do: she fainted.

  “Good-bye, Doctor. Thank you for coming.” Wolfe said and shut the door quietly, though a jolt of satisfaction caused him to smile. But it had worked! He’d called Dr. Hoover earlier that day and asked him to come over and assess Melb. It was just as he’d expected. Dr. Hoover had given Melb a clean bill of health and told her she should start exercising. By packing your bags, Wolfe had thought, but he didn’t quite have the snake issues resolved. Very soon, though.

  Nevertheless, he knew this would bring a great deal of relief to Ainsley, who had been feeling guilty for everything that had happened to Melb. Now they could get on with their—

  What was that noise? He followed it into the kitchen. Ainsley was pouring some berry-colored drink from the blender into a glass. Wolfe followed her into the living room, where she gave it to Melb and then adjusted her blanket.