by John Locke
Ellwood scrunches his face up. “How would you know what they do if they only do it when they’re alone?”
“Cold, hard facts, Ellwood. You can look ’em up if you want.”
“Where?”
“The internet is full of statistical data about this shit. Not to mention all them women’s magazines.”
“Like the ones you read?”
They laugh.
Ellwood says, “Well, I can promise you Emma Wilson don’t do none of them things. Wait till you lay eyes on her.”
“Maybe I’ll lay some pipe, instead.”
“Out of your league, Cobb. And that’s a biological fact of chemistry.”
“She can’t be that special.”
“She is. And movie star pretty. Plus, there’s somethin’ in the way she carries herself, you know?”
“You are so full of shit. She’s probably butt-ugly, and you’re still drunk from last night.”
“You’ve seen Jack Russell,” Ellwood says.
“So?”
“You think he’d be engaged to a butt-ugly woman?”
“How the fuck would I know? He’s like thirty-five, right? The dude’s nearly twice our age!”
They go quiet a minute. Then Cobb says, “You plannin’ to follow her all day?”
“Got nothin’ better to do.”
“Must be nice. Me? I gotta go. Fence won’t build itself. Let me know what happens.”
“Count on it.”
They hang up and Ellwood’s ear suddenly hurts like hell.
“This ear tissue,” the cabbie says, applying more pressure, “Is very delicate. You’d be amazed how much damage I can do with just my thumb and forefinger.”
“Wh-what do you want?” Ellwood gasps.
“Funny, I was about to ask you the same question!”
“Wh-what do you m-mean?”
“You followed us here from the store. You’ve been parked here all this time, spying. Now you’re waiting for something. I ask myself what’re the chances you do this every day? Go to the hardware store, park up here off-road, on a hill, under tree cover, spy on Jack Russell’s lake house. And you know what I come up with? Never. You never do this. Except I see tire tracks here, and a clearing. As if maybe you don’t do this every day, but you’ve done it before. What’s your name?”
“Ellwood. Oww!”
“Your full name, asswipe!”
“Fillmore! Jeez! Ellwood Fillmore.”
“Like the grocery store?”
“My p-parents.”
“You’ve been here before, haven’t you, Ellwood?”
“Y-Yes. Can you let go of me? I-I can’t feel my ear!”
“Amazing how painful that is. Not sure why.”
The cabbie’s cell phone rings. He releases Ellwood’s ear, checks his phone, puts it back in his pocket. Says, “Normally, I’d kill you. But I got enough shit in my life right now. Don’t need the aggravation. I assume your mother’s responsible for this?”
“Huh?”
“Did your mother tell you to spy on Emma?”
“Uh huh.”
“Why?”
“Why do you think? She’s a nosy bitch!”
The cabbie laughs. “Well said. But you love her? Or just don’t want to be on her bad side.”
“Both.”
“How long you been spying on Jack Russell’s place?”
“Never. I mean, there’s trails all around here. Me and my friends come up here all the time.”
“Smoke dope? Party? Have sex?”
“Stuff like that.”
“Just a coincidence you’ve got a perfect view of Jack’s place?”
“Trails give us a perfect view of all the rentals. Cabins, lake houses...”
“Who else comes up here? You know, to hang out.”
“Uh…you mean, what, you want names? Everyone comes up here to hang out. I’d have to name—Ow! Aw, shit! Stop! That hurts like hell!”
“You know what I think? I think you and your friends drive up here to park your trucks, but you don’t party up here on the hill. You break into the empty houses and cabins.”
“No sir!”
“His house has been vandalized.”
“What?”
“Completely cleaned out. Everything gone. Electronics, booze, fishing rods. All gone.”
“That’s not true! The booze, maybe, but—”
The cabbie smiles. “Gotcha!”
“Shit.”
He releases Ellwood’s ear for the second time. “Want to talk about it?”
“Not really.”
“I’m impressed with the girls you bring. Or women, possibly.”
“What do you mean?”
“They tidy up nicely after the parties.”
Ellwood says nothing.
Cabbie says, “I’m a reasonable guy. I’ll give you a reasonable choice. You can tell me the truth right now, or we can have a chat with the sheriff.”
“Sheriff?”
“Someone knocked the glass panel out the back door and taped it shut to keep the bugs out. Beyond that, the booze is gone. None of that bothers me. Hell, I don’t even know this guy, Jack Russell. But I’ll tell you what I do know. You and your buddies thought it would be fun to put holes in Russell’s condoms. See which local woman winds up pregnant. You think the sheriff might want to express an opinion on that?”
Ellwood pauses. “What do you want?”
“Two favors.”
“What?”
“Get that window fixed before we get back from the mall.”
“What?”
“You’ll have about three hours.”
“I didn’t even do it! I just show up, man.”
“Don’t fuck with me, son, or I’ll turn your nut sack into a coin purse. I want that window fixed before I get back. I don’t care how you make it happen. Are we clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
They look at each other a minute, then Ellwood says, “What’s the second thing?”
“Stay away.”
“From her?”
“The house.”
“Why?”
“Because Jack Russell will be here soon, and he’s not going to be happy to hear you’ve been breaking into his place.”
“You’re gonna tell him?”
“I’ll decide after I see if the window’s fixed.”
Ellwood pauses. Then says, “Who is she?”
“I never met her before last night. But I like her. And as long as I’m in a position to help keep her safe, I will.”
2:50 p.m.
“Am I the first to visit you?” Milly Reston says.
“Yes. And I’m happy to meet you.”
“You and Jack are engaged?”
“We are.”
Milly makes a sour face. “When a woman moves in with a man, there’s not much incentive for marriage. From the man’s point of view, I mean.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Emma says.
They’re at the kitchen table, drinking tea. The broccoli-cheese casserole Milly brought for Emma’s dinner is cooling on the counter, too hot for the fridge.
“Our water’s fine, you know,” Milly says, eyeing the stack of bottled waters on the floor, by the hallway.
“It’s a habit, I suppose.”
“A costly one, if you ask me.”
Emma shrugs.
Milly says, “Want me to help put the canned goods in the cupboard?”
“No, thanks.”
“Why not?”
“It’ll give me something to do later on.”
“When’s Jack comin’?”
“I’m not sure.”
“I don’t mean the exact day. But later in the week? Next week?”
“I really don’t know.”
“You mean he might not show up for weeks?”
“He might not.”
“Months?”
Emma shrugs. “Jack’s traveling, trying to sell his business. He’ll come when he can.”
<
br /> “He just what, gave you his key? Said move in, wait till he could join you?”
“That’s right.”
“He must really love you to trust you with his place.” She lets her eyes roam the room a minute, then whispers, “Have you gone through his things yet?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know…snoop!”
“No, of course not!”
“Really?” Milly says. “Because I would! I’d do it in a heartbeat! I’d open every door, read every receipt, learn everything I possibly could about the man.”
“Why?”
“Why? Hell girl, because you’re here and he’s not! Because you’re plannin’ to marry him! Because you’ll never have a better chance to learn his secrets! Why are you lookin’ at me like that? Don’t tell me you’re not curious!”
“Sorry. I’m not.”
“Not even the teeniest, smallest amount?”
“Not even.”
“Seriously, Emma?”
Emma shrugs.
Milly glances around the room again. “I wouldn’t be able to sleep! Not till I’d searched every nook and cranny. Every can in the cupboard. Every box in the attic. Every loose floor board under the carpet. The ice trays. The lining of his jackets and bedspreads. I’d search day and night till I found them all.”
“Found what?”
“His hiding places, silly! All men have them. And it’s our job to find out where they are. And what they’re hidin’ in them. And why. Are you okay, hon? You’re lookin’ at me funny again. Like you ate a bug or somethin’.”
“I’m speechless,” Emma says.
“Well, you can thank me later by tellin’ me what you found. And if you want, I’ll be glad to help. All you need do is ask.”
“Thanks for the offer.”
“Don’t mention it.” She lowers her voice and says, “How much of Jack’s past has he shared?”
“Enough to get me here.”
Milly nods. Then bites the corner of her lip and says, “Has he mentioned Abbie Rhodes?”
“Not that I recall. Why?”
“Just a town rumor. Take it with a grain of salt.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll say the secret if you want.”
“No, that’s okay.”
“If it was me, I’d want to know.”
Emma says nothing.
Milly frowns. “I should tell you.”
“I’d rather you didn’t. But what can you tell me about the sheriff?”
Milly raises an eyebrow. “You heard about him and Linda Craig?”
“Not yet.”
“Well!” she says. “You didn’t hear it from me, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Sheriff Cox and Linda dated in high school. He went to Arkansas State, she went to Southern Miss, married a football player. After her divorce last year, she moved back to town. Sheriff’s a married man, but word around town is he’s met her out by Palmer Lake at night.”
“Has anyone seen them together?”
“Ronny Tucker saw their cars together once. Says he slowed down enough to see no one’s head was higher up than the windows, if you catch my drift.”
Emma laughs.
Milly says, “Now that we’ve got that one out of the way, let me tell you what they’re sayin’ about Abbie and Jack.”
“Another time, perhaps.”
Milly sighs. “Very well. But this whole business about movin’ in with the man?”
“Yes?”
“Soon you’ll pass the point of no return. You understand?”
“Not really.”
“I mean, once he moves in, it’s too late. You can’t undo what’s already done.”
“Well, in this case, I’m the one who’s moving in.”
A look of confusion crosses Milly’s face.
Emma says, “I’m not interested in marrying Jack. Not immediately, anyway.”
Milly’s eyes widen. “You’re not interested in marrying Jack Russell?”
“Not immediately.”
“Blond-haired, blue-eyed, perfectly chiseled, dazzling-smiled Jack Russell? Did I mention friendly, funny, wealthy Jack Russell?”
“Is this really such a shock for you to hear?”
“If you’re telling the truth, it is. If you’re telling the truth, it’s beyond shock, it’s insane! It’s…it’s…unfathomable!”
“Why?”
“Every woman in the county has a thing for Jack. You need to tie him up, girl! Aren’t you afraid you’re gonna lose him?”
“Nope.”
Milly shakes her head. “None of this makes a lick of sense.”
“Thanks for the casserole, Milly. I’ll walk you to the door.”
3:45 p.m.
“He’s a looker,” Kayla Stent says. “I can’t imagine! I mean, holy baloney! Is it just wonderful?”
“What?”
She giggles. “You know…”
Emma says nothing.
Kayla blushes. Then spells the word, whispering. “The S-E-X!”
“I’m not really comfortable talking about my sex life.”
“You’re not?”
“Nope.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Why not?”
4:20 p.m.
“How long have you and Jack been an item?” Norma Newton says.
“Since I arrived in town, it appears.”
“Well, that’s the way of small towns, I suppose. Does it bother you all the single women in town and half the married ones are in love with your fiancé?”
“Are you in love with him?”
Norma blushes. Then says, “Have you met Darryl and Abbie Rhodes yet?”
“No.”
“Wish I could be a fly on the wall when that happens.”
“Why?”
“You’ll know soon enough. I’m surprised Jack hasn’t told you about Abbie. Him bein’ your fiancé and all.”
“We’re still at that stage where we’re getting to know each other better.”
Norma makes a sweeping motion with her hand, indicating the living arrangements, and says, “This here goes way beyond gettin’ to know each other.”
5:15 p.m.
“Thanks for allowing me in, Miss Wilson,” Bill Cox says. “I hope you’re finding our town a pleasant place so far.”
“How can I help you, Sheriff?”
He gives her a look. “You’re mighty straight-to-the-point, aren’t you?”
“I doubt the County Sheriff has time to make social visits or small talk. You’re obviously here for a reason.”
“Mighty astute of you,” he says. “You’re right, by the way. I’m not normally part of the welcoming process. But your situation’s a bit unique.”
“How so?”
“You appear to be moving into a man’s home.” He pauses. “A man who’s not here.”
“So?”
“Well, pardon me for putting it indelicately, but we don’t know a thing about you.”
“We?”
“The town.”
“And that’s a problem because?”
“To be blunt, there’s no ring on your finger. And no marriage license, from what I’m told.”
“Does the state of Arkansas require an engagement license?”
“No, but it’s customary to have an engagement ring.”
“We haven’t had time to shop for one yet. But I do have his house key. That should count for something.”
“I’d feel better knowing he gave it to you voluntarily, and that he’s not lying in a ditch somewhere.”
Emma frowns. “Are you accusing me of killing Jack Russell?”
“Not yet. But from what I hear, you came into town with no suitcase, no purse, dirty clothes, and a substantial amount of cash.”
“Is there a local ordinance against any of those things?”
“Not if the money’s rightly yours.”
“Good to know.”
“Is i
t?”
“What?”
“The money. Is it yours?”
“How much money are you carrying, Sheriff?”
“That’s not really your business, is it, Miss Watson?”
“It seems reasonable for you to answer the same questions you’re asking me. And by the way, my name’s Emma Wilson, not Watson.”
“Can I see your ID?”
“Can I see yours?”
“I don’t have to be civil here, Miss Wilson. I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt. You can’t just take over a man’s house without showing proof you’ve been invited here.”
She fishes her ID from her pocket, hands it to him. He photographs it with his cell phone camera and says, “Can you confirm your date of birth?”
She does.
He returns her license. Then says, “What’s your relationship with Jack Russell?”
“What’s your relationship with Linda Craig?”
His face grows beet red. “I’ll give you ten seconds to furnish proof of your right to be here.”
“Or what?”
“Or you can spend the night in my jail.”
They glare at each other a minute.
“I’m not playing around with you,” he says.
“Your wife will be pleased to hear that, I expect.”
She removes a folded piece of paper from her new purse and hands it over. As Cox unfolds it she says, “The letter you’re reading is addressed to you, Sheriff. It’s in Jack Russell’s hand, authorizing me to stay in his lake house as long as I see fit. Read a little further and you’ll see he admits to being my fiancé. He also authorizes me to use his personal credit card. At the end he asks you to extend me every kindness you’d show a new resident of Willow Lake, since it’s his wish we eventually marry and settle down here.”
Sheriff Cox studies the letter a few minutes. Then says, “You’re quite the little gold digger, aren’t you, Emma?”
“I’ll take that as a compliment, Sheriff.”
“Don’t.”
After Sheriff Cox leaves, Emma takes her new pre-paid phone from her purse and presses a button on her speed dial for the fourth time today.
When the young man answers, Emma asks if Fanny has shown up for work yet. He says no, and asks if she’d like to leave a message. Emma says no, and asks for Fanny’s cell phone number. He says he’s not allowed to give out personal information. Emma sighs, and apologizes for bothering him.
She retrieves the new stepladder from the hall closet. Sets it up near the master bathroom toilet, then opens the bathroom door. Standing on the fourth step of the ladder, she pulls a permanent marker from her jeans’ pocket and writes her new cell phone number on the top edge of the door. Then puts the stepladder back in the hall closet, goes to the laundry room, transfers the sheets and towels to the dryer, and sets the time.
