by J. L. Salter
“Is this what’s been bothering you lately?”
“Part of it.”
“Why didn’t you tell me, Kelly?”
“It was just a courthouse rumor.” She groaned. “I didn’t think it could possibly be true.”
“So what’s the advice from your trooper friend?”
Kelly stood and stretched. “Fred Lee wants me to tuck Pop’s shotgun away somewhere. Totally ridiculous. He seemed to be saying I should just roll over and take it.”
“Well, I’m not one to come to Fred Lee’s defense — in fact, he makes me ballistically jealous — but it sounds like he was giving you good advice.”
“Don’t you start, Mitch. I can’t stand it when somebody says, ‘Just settle down, little lady, and let me take care of that.’ Or when it’s clear that’s what they’re thinking. I really hate that!”
“Hey, sorry. I just meant he’s a trained professional.”
Kelly approached Mitch and touched both of his elbows. “It’s so frustrating knowing that J.D. is loose again. Not to mention his crazy cousin. Plus, having people tell me not to take measures to protect myself.”
Mitch embraced her closely. “I understand and I wasn’t taking Fred Lee’s side. But I’m also worried for you. I don’t mean that you can’t take care of yourself. You’ve already proven that. I just mean… well, I worry, that’s all.”
She snuggled into his long arms. “I can accept worried. But don’t start preaching about me being a passive victim. That’s not me, Sport.”
“I know. Believe me, I know.”
Kelly looked up at his face and almost said something.
Mitch seemed to be waiting, but didn’t ask.
“Hey, let’s go eat. I’m starving.” It was still a bit early, but Kelly needed to be in motion. She slid the pet hatch cover into its slot.
“Perra!” Kelly’s whistle echoed somewhere down in the ancient bed of Disappearing Creek. “Perra!”
A small black shape bounded north along the creek bed and turned west, up the steep slope toward the cabin. Perra stopped, spread out her batwing ears, and listened for another whistle. It also echoed, but she wasn’t fooled by echoes. She knew the cabin was home and Kelly was in the cabin. Kelly was Perra’s home.
Perra raced up the hillside with leaps like a miniature gazelle and stopped at the steps to the front porch. She sat, wagging her tail, only slightly out of breath after her mad dash to get there. She was soaking wet… and smiling.
****
Mitch took a final sip of iced tea and discreetly checked his watch. They’d had a nice meal — economical, filling, and quite tasty — at the spaghetti place south of town.
Kelly nibbled on half of a breadstick. “You know how Ellie smiles, but it’s just barely visible and you know it’s really a much bigger smile?”
Mitch nodded.
“Like she’s trying to keep it inside.” Kelly tried unsuccessfully to mimic it.
“What made you think of her?” He looked around to see if Ellie and Chet had entered the restaurant. They hadn’t.
“Just thinking they’re kind of an odd couple.” She looked toward Mitch, as though expecting him to chime in.
He didn’t.
“Seriously. They’re practically living together, as I hear it.”
“Can’t believe everything you hear.” Mitch waggled his forefinger.
“Well, she eats nearly all her meals with him and even cleans up his house.”
“But she runs that cleaning service — Dirt Angels — with her family. Plus, that’s a mighty big house Pop lives in. Maybe she’s camped out on one end and he stays in the other.”
“Well, now that you mention it, I think I have heard that Ellie sleeps at her own house.” Kelly seemed to consider the possibility. “You know, Ellie’s real young for a woman in her sixties. Plus she was quite an athlete up through high school. Even beyond.”
“From what I’ve observed, Ellie has a pretty nice figure. Of course, she doesn’t show much of it, with all those long skirts.”
“Yeah, that’s why I think they’re probably not having sex. Ellie’s denomination seems awfully strict… I doubt they’d allow an unmarried woman any hanky panky.”
Mitch tapped her wrist. “But, most important thing to remember is that it’s none of our business.”
It was already dark when they left the restaurant and Kelly paused before getting into her vehicle. She seemed to scan the immediate northwest — an immense area of land, nearly a thousand acres, mostly undeveloped. “Oohh. Did you feel that?”
Mitch had started to open the passenger door but stopped. “Feel what?”
“That sudden cold breeze.”
He shrugged. “I didn’t feel anything.”
The air was still. No breeze.
****
When they entered Kelly’s warm cabin, Mitch hugged her closely, full length, from behind. His hands moved down the sides of her hips to her upper thighs, snagging briefly on the front pockets of her jeans.
Despite her exercise three times each week at the YMCA, Kelly was carrying the slightest layer of what she called baby fat on her belly and hips. Mitch had assured her that he loved it, but she seemed determined to take it off again.
“You remember how flat my abs were late last year, right before Christmas?”
“Veritable washboards.” His fingers briefly touched the area being discussed.
“That’s what I’d like to get back to. But these last few holiday pounds just haven’t come off.”
“Maybe they’re not holiday pounds…”
“Meaning what? That they’re permanent?”
“Oops.” Mitch had forgotten one of the top ten Man Rules: When she talks about her weight, don’t speak at all. Nonverbal comfort only. Nothing you say will be right.
“Maybe my metabolism is a little haywire or something.”
“You’ve got curves exactly where I like them.”
Rather abruptly, Kelly broke their embrace and headed down the short hallway. Probably to change her shoes.
Mitch exhaled with a slight, unintended whistle. Whew. He badly needed some mouthwash. Despite having brushed his teeth before driving over, his tongue was stale with the aftertaste of spaghetti sauce. He rinsed his mouth with kitchen tap water and exhaled into his palm. Yikes. He remembered Kelly kept tiny breath mints in the cupboard near the toothpicks. He grabbed three and swirled them around the inside of his mouth. One tastes zingy fresh, two give you a bit of a sting, but three can make your eyes water.
He put three more in his pocket for later, in case Kelly returned from her bedroom in a better mood.
Chapter Six
September 29 — Saturday — morning
Although the temperatures would rise considerably until late afternoon, a cool breeze periodically refreshed the bright and sunny morning.
As Kelly sipped her second cup of coffee on the porch, she heard a distinctive whirring noise from the woods behind her cabin. It was a familiar sound but she rose to investigate anyway. She’d barely left the porch steps when a large man zoomed down her driveway in a souped-up customized golf cart.
“Wade!” She waved enthusiastically, spilling some coffee in the process. She flung away the remaining liquid and walked quickly toward the powered-up buggy, as it crunched gravel and lurched to a stop. “No trailer this time, I see.”
“Streamlined fer speed.” The chassis and cab were top-of-the-line premium brand, but the engine and transmission were secrets known only to Lawrence Wade Lawrence. The barrel-chested man jumped out of the cart and launched his bear hug before Kelly could put down her empty cup, which clattered to the gravel. “Sorry. Just happy to see you.” He looked down. “Is it broke?”
Kelly bent down and grabbed the cup. “Just bruised a bit. Come on in.”
They made their way up the plank steps in time to see Perra bounding up the hill. With motions that resembled a greyhound and, at times, a third grade child, the little terrier made a blac
k streak up the hillside and was on the porch wagging and greeting her very large Cincinnati friend.
Wade stroked Perra’s ears and patted her shoulders. “This little gal can run!” The neighbor dog sounded an alarm and Perra barked a reply before turning her head. Then she scanned intently toward the east, raised the ruff on top of her shoulders, and scampered back down the steps. Standing on the slope, her legs stiff, she scratched the ground defiantly.
“Wonder what that’s all about.” Wade obviously didn’t see anything amiss.
“Oh, some smell drifted down in the dry creek bed. Or some squirrel ran up the neighbor dog’s tree. Something real important.” Kelly turned. “Let’s get some coffee. Somebody made me spill mine.”
He grinned as he burst through the door and barreled into the kitchen. Wade was not unusually tall — just under six feet — but he was massively built, with thick neck, arms, and legs. He was one of those men who did not manifest any particular musculature but possessed astonishing strength. He could heave a hundred-and-fifty pound stump into a bonfire, but he usually shook hands passively. Wade’s movements were never slow and seldom quiet.
While extracting his personal mug from Kelly’s kitchen cabinet, he managed to clink into at least four other dishes. The spoon clanked in his mug and smacked loudly onto the counter.
“Wade, I declare. You are a bundle.”
“Bundle of what?” When he grinned, his entire face was involved. At present his face showed several days of stubble.
“You growing your beard again for deer season?” She pointed.
“Naw, this is the new movie star look — always look like you fergot to shave yesterday and just might wait ‘til tomorrow.”
Kelly couldn’t tell if he was serious, but Wade had probably already left that subject so she shifted. “That pet hatch you installed has been real helpful, especially to keep her from following my vehicle.”
Wade looked slightly embarrassed at being praised, though his expression lasted only a few seconds.
“So, what are you doing in town? I thought you usually visit about every other weekend.”
“Got three acres to mow and lots of branches to clean up. Must’ve been some big wind around here.”
“So you come down here more than I thought you did.” She eyed him narrowly. “In case you’ve been here on other weekends, I wonder if you’ve heard some noise on Pop’s ninety-nine acres.”
“What kind of noise?”
Kelly put her cup on the small end table so she could use her hands when she talked. “I’ve been hearing loud booms and other muffled sounds that seem like they’re coming from those woods or the meadow beyond. I’ve also caught another hunter, but I know this isn’t hunters, unless they’re carrying cannons.” She had looked away to check on a movement from Gato and then she caught Wade’s eyes again. “Why are you grinning?”
“I ain’t.”
“You sure are. A big pie-eating grin.” She frowned. “What do you know about all those sounds, Lawrence?”
“Shucks, you’re making me spill my big surprise.”
Kelly extended her hand and motioned with her fingers. Come on.
“Well, at first it was just a few leftover cherry bombs and M-80s.”
“I’ve heard of cherry bombs but those booms I heard were more like atom bombs.” She squinted at him. “Wait. I thought those high-powered gizmos had been outlawed.”
Wade grinned. “Well, they’re only against the law if you’re caught with ‘em. If you’ve already blowed ‘em up, nobody can tell a cherry bomb from a farrcracker.”
“One of these days, you’re going to find yourself in some trouble, Wade. You must’ve had a charmed life so far. But luck sometimes runs out.”
“Well, if I hadn’t been given the name Wade, I would’ve named myself Lucky.” He paused like he was trying out the alternate name. “You remember when I went to Thunder Valley last month?”
“Thunder what?”
“Best race track in this part of the country. Bristol, Tennessee. Fastest half mile in the world, so they say.”
Kelly rolled her hand sideways. Out with it.
“You think those old cherry bombs are something. You ought to see what I brung back from Bristol. Most of them races have a big farrworks display as part of the opening ceremony, with the national anthem and such.”
Kelly waited for him to continue about the sounds.
“Well, I got hold of a bunch of them industrial-strength farrworks. I’m talking about stuff that goes hundreds of feet in the air and makes enough noise to wake up the folks in that graveyard up there.”
“As it would have me if I’d been asleep at the time. So these firecrackers-on-steroids — is that what’s been going off on Pop’s acreage?”
“Couldn’t blow ‘em up in Cincinnati.”
“So why didn’t you tell me you were out there blasting stuff? I’ve been worrying and halfway to calling the 9-1-1 folks.”
“Didn’t think nothing about it. Just as natural as a real big belch or a nasty…”
“Thanks for those lovely images.” She gave him another stern look. “You should’ve told me.”
Wade looked suitably chastened but that image vanished in a few seconds. None of Wade’s expressions remained very long. Like his constant body motion, his expressions seemed to lurch about. He grinned again. “That’s what I came to tell you now. And show you some of ‘em.” He looked like he was about to jolt off the loveseat.
Kelly motioned him back down. “And I presume these are strictly illegal for private citizens to own.”
“Like I said, only if you’re caught with ‘em. If I blow ‘em up, they was never here.”
“How on earth did you get them anyway?”
“They had a substitute guard at one of the gates. He looks a little nervous and asks if I want to buy some farrcrackers. I say, ‘What kind’? He shows me. So I say, ‘How much you want’? He says, ‘What’ll you give me’? Now I know you can spend fifty bucks on the Fourth of July and come home with a little bag of junk, so I give him a hundred bucks.”
“Did you transport his illegal fireworks?”
“Got ‘em right outside in my buggy.”
“That’s probably a couple of felonies.”
Wade started to get up again and this time Kelly was too slow to stop him. Both went outside. Perra tagged along, hopped up in the back of the golf cart, and sniffed suspiciously among the shapes beneath an old tarp. Then she wrinkled her nose and jumped back down.
“I made some more improvements in Old Betsey since you last seen her.” He pointed to a button. “That’s my siren.” He pressed it and grinned broadly.
Kelly covered her ears. “Turn that off!”
He did, with obvious reluctance. “You already knew I took off the governor so it runs a lot faster than at golf courses. Well I also found some new injectors and put on a different header, so now this baby runs like a scalded dog.”
“It was already scalded enough, Wade.” She was puzzled. “So what about the fireworks?”
“Oh. Here, under the tarp.” He flipped it back with a minor flourish, revealing several assorted boxes.
“Wade, you’re liable to blow up my cabin with all that stuff. How on earth did that sub guard get hold of industrial fireworks like that?”
“He said they fell off the back of a truck.” Wade tried to keep a straight face. “Works fer me.”
Kelly scanned the array of samples in the rear compartment of Wade’s buggy. “Okay, let’s ignore all the legal issues for the moment. From what I recall of public display fireworks, there’s always a lot of light bursts, or whatever you call those huge flashes of color.”
“They call ‘em paints. I did some research. Different chemicals makes different colors. The way to tell a real expert is if they can make deep blue or dazzling white bursts.”
Kelly’s mouth hung open briefly. “I’m completely amazed.”
“Bet you thought it was harder to make r
eds and greens, huh?”
“No. I’m amazed that you actually did some research.” She smiled.
“Yeah. Went to the liberry in Lexington.”
“Hold on. You live near Cincinnati. Why’d you use the Lexington library system?”
He sighed heavily. “Well, I started out in one of Cincinnati’s liberry branches, but after I’d asked a few questions about explosives and gunpowder and such, they started giving me the fisheye. So I figured I’d vamoose from there. Went to Lexington.”
“Lexington’s library staff didn’t give you the fisheye?”
“Nope. Some nice lady just took me to the computer and typed up some words and there was couple thousand uh…”
“Links.”
“Yeah, links. So I sat there and clicked on ‘em. Man, I got all kinds of stuff. I was printing pages like crazy.”
“Sounds like you had a very positive library experience.”
“Well, when I went to grab all them pages I printed, the other lady wanted me to pay for ‘em. I told her the first lady said I could access anything fer free.” Wade had a fleeting frown. “So while she was arguing with the first lady about my access, I snatched them pages and took off.”
“So that’s two libraries you can’t go back to.”
He shrugged — he obviously never intended to visit any more library systems. “So anyhow, most of them commercial farrworks are what they call aerial shells. And the stuff inside ‘em — besides the powder — is little cubes or pellets they call stars. What I been doing is taking ‘em apart and separating all the stuff. Gunpowder here, packing there, stars over yonder. Plus, that big old box I bought had about a mile of fuses.”
“I swear, Wade, sometimes following your explanations is just impossible. Why were you dismantling all those brand new illegal fireworks?”
He looked at her like she ought to already understand. “Simple, Kel. I want the sound from the gunpowder explosion to go with my new invention, but don’t want the blast of light, because them burning phosphorous particles is too tricky to handle. It’s kind of like a big chemistry set, but real turbo-charged. And I’m like the scientist dude that does the experiments.”
