“Speaking of Alec, have you seen him Jake? Margot asked me to check on him.”
“He was headed up the side of the mountain with Marissa the last time I saw him,” I said a little too loud, so Chuck could hear. He was over by the barbeque, sniffing the air like a police dog.
“I’ll go find them. Maybe they went to shoot the gun,” Carlos said. Reverend Johnson grabbed him by the collar just as he began to take off after Alec.
“Hold on there, Hoss. Something tells me they didn’t go up there to do any target practice.”
“You didn’t stop them?” It was Chuck. He had traversed the twenty yards from the grill to where we were standing in seconds. It looked like he was going to have a stroke.
I reached for Fred’s collar when he started growling as Chuck got too close. It was more for his safety than Chuck’s. I knew Fred wouldn’t bite, but I wasn’t too sure about Chuck. His kind thought nothing of kicking a dog and calling it self-defense.
“Sorry. I was a little busy at the time to babysit for you,” I answered, trying not to laugh at the thought of Alec and Marissa making out behind some big rock with her grandfather so close.
He ignored me and turned to the reverend. “Let him go, Johnson. I’m sure they won’t do anything if he tags along.”
The reverend seemed hesitant before answering. “Okay, Carlos, but I’m going too. They have wild animals up here. I can’t just let you go running off by yourself. What if you get stung by a bee?”
“Ain’t that why you carry the epy pen, Johnson?” Chuck asked.
I had nothing more to say to either of them and went back to my original task of seeking out my hostess. I found Bonnie in the kitchen with Margot chatting away with their backs to me as they washed dishes.
“You two need any help with those?” I asked.
It wasn’t difficult to tell them apart. They both stood around five-two and had the same slim, bordering on frail, build. Unlike her twin, Margot kept her hair looking twenty years younger with a little help from Clairol. I guessed they were probably in their mid to late sixties only because of things Bonnie had told me over the years. No one would have known their age by looking at them. They still had the bright eyes and actions of younger women.
“We wouldn’t need any help, if she didn’t drink so much,” Margot answered without looking my way. She was busy stacking the dishes in the washer as quickly as Bonnie could pre-wash them, which wasn’t very quick at all. Fred could have done it faster and saved them the time of scraping all the leftovers into the garbage.
“Jake, Sweetheart, Reverend Johnson needs to leave. Would you mind getting Margot’s bags from his minivan? She’s staying with me for a few days,” Bonnie said while pouring the last of her bourbon from the bottle she had been carrying around all day. She didn’t bother to dilute it this time with cola like she usually does.
Margot closed the dishwasher door and looked contemptuously at her sister before turning to me. “And the manuscripts, Jake. They’re in the back in white boxes.”
“Manuscripts? How many books did Ray write?” I asked.
Bonnie answered for her sister. “Just one, Silly. One of them is a copy.”
I smiled. I’ve heard about twins answering for one another, but never experienced it before. “No problem, but it may be a while before your pastor leaves. He just went up the hill with Carlos to find Alec and Marissa.”
Margot slammed a dish on the counter, breaking it into a hundred pieces. “Oh, shit. I hope Chuck didn’t see them,” she said without a second glance at the mess she just made, and ran out the door before I could tell her he already knew.
Bonnie stopped washing and went over to clean up her sister’s mess. Then, acting as though nothing had happened, she reached for an overhead cabinet. “Do you mind, Jake? There’s another bottle up there I can’t get without my step-stool.”
I retrieved her bourbon and opened it for her, trying not to laugh. “I better get that manuscript before Chuck does,” I said, heading for the door while wondering if Margot knew about Bonnie’s stash. Stash was putting it kindly; she had a whole case of Jack Daniels Black Label up there.
All hell was breaking loose when I got outside. Margot and Chuck were arguing. I could hear her defending her grandson while Chuck was tearing him down. I made sure Chuck saw me grin as I walked past him.
I retrieved Margot’s bags from the back of the van then found the two white boxes in the back seat, and headed back. I wanted to ask Margot, which one was the copy, but Chuck was still at it when I reached them, so I went on to the house with her bags.
Bonnie was on her porch watching and listening. I set the bags down before taking them in the house so I could watch too. “What an arrogant bastard!”
“He’s not so bad once you get to know him, Jake. He’s only watching out for us,” she answered without taking her eyes off Chuck.
“Yeah. Sweet like Freddie Krueger. What’s he got against me anyway? There’s got to be more to it.” I turned my back to the action and gave her my dumb look before picking up the bags again. It was a habit I’d developed with my ex-wife when I said something stupid.
“To what?” Margot asked before I managed to get back inside. She had given up arguing when she saw the reverend’s entourage coming down the driveway with Alec and Marissa trailing behind. Chuck was waving his arms and shouting words a pastor should never hear.
“Jake doesn’t think Chuck likes him,” Bonnie answered her sister while slipping past me to go into the house. I held the door open for Margot too, and she followed without saying a word.
Bonnie was already sitting at the table with a drink. Margot went over to a kitchen cabinet and brought out some cut-crystal glasses and put them on the table next to the new bottle of booze. I thought Bonnie would have a fit when her sister didn’t use a coaster. The table was an old piece she had bought at a garage sale last year. I knew it well since she had me refinish it even though I warned her it might be an antique.
“Care to help me fall off the wagon, Jake?”
I placed some napkins under the glasses before answering. I had worked too hard on the table to see it ruined now. “No thanks, Margot. I never drink anything stronger than beer, and I’ve had my quota of that.”
“Here’s to all the grandmothers going gray because of their grandchildren,” she said and poured herself a drink and another for me before continuing, “You’re going to need this.”
Alec came barging into the house before Margot could finish. “Can I have a glass too, Grandma? I’m dying of thirst.”
I could see Marissa through the kitchen’s bay-window, standing next to her grandfather with her head down while he was yelling at her. The reverend and Carlos were having their own discussion at the end of the driveway with Fred doing his best to get Carlos to play.
“There’s pop in the fridge,” Bonnie said.
He looked disappointed, but went to the refrigerator anyway. “Hey, that was some explosion, huh?”
“It could have been worse,” I answered. “Lucky for Lonnie the tank didn’t burst.”
“Yeah. Dad’s gonna be pissed losing the barbeque. At least he won’t have to buy a new tank.”
“The grill belongs to your father?”
“It was nearly brand new when he lent it to Aunt Bonnie for the picnic. Only used one bottle of gas before I brought it up here last week.”
The door opened before Alec could finish his story. Reverend Johnson let himself in. I could see Carlos out the window, throwing a stick for Fred. “We’ve got to get going, Ms. Jones,” he said to Bonnie. “I want to stop by the hospital and check on Lonnie. Thank you so much for inviting us. Carlos has had such a great time.”
“My pesor, Wevland,” she giggled; evidently, the alcohol was finally getting to her.
He pretended not to notice and turned to her sober twin, “Are you sure you don’t want to ride back with us, Margot? It’s really not out of our way.”
“Thank you, Reverend
. No, I want to stay for a while. Bonnie can drive me into town in a couple days.”
I saw my chance to escape. “Let me walk you out, Reverend.”
Fred and Carlos were in a tug-of-war with the stick when the reverend and I passed the barbeque on the way to his van. “I wonder if I should call Shelia,” I said, and tried to read his face.
“It won’t be necessary, Jake. I already called her. She said she’d meet me at the hospital.”
“Oh, I forgot. Lonnie said something about her getting involved in the church. I suppose you know her better than I ever did.”
“Yes, she’s been a big help with the children, a real saint.
“Carlos. We’ve got to go now,” he yelled while extending his hand toward me. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Jake. Let me know when the book is ready. I’d be happy to take a look at it if you need a second set of eyes.” This time his grip was a little too tight.
Carlos accepted defeat, and let Fred keep the stick. He came over to us with his head down like someone who had just lost his best friend. Fred followed, trying to put the stick back in his hands as they came closer. The boy got into the van without a word.
Bonnie and Margot were on the porch watching and waving goodbye to the reverend. I waved back too, and started for home when I noticed Lonnie’s Jeep.
“Bonnie!” I called out, catching them just when they had turned to go back inside. “What about the Jeep?”
“Charlie said he’d take care of it,” Margot answered for her. She waited for her sister to go back into the house, and then came off the porch toward me. “You forgot the manuscript,” she said, holding it out to me. Her tone was soft and gentle like her sister’s and she looked tired.
“Jake,” she said and paused before continuing. “Do you know a good lawyer?”
“Why, Margot?”
“Charlie is going to sue you.”
“What? You’re kidding? What did I do?”
She reached down to pet Fred. I was sure it was so she didn’t have to look me in the eyes because this was a first since I’d been there. “He says you’re responsible for the tank blowing up. He says he can get Lonnie everything you own and maybe put you away too.”
I laughed, and reached out to take the manuscript. “There’s no way he can prove I had anything to do with that accident.” I hesitated for a split second considering my next words. “You can tell Chuck for me it was no accident. I’m beginning to think someone is using me as the scapegoat for a failed attempt at premeditated murder. Someone tried to kill Lonnie, and I think I know why.”
Margot turned so white, I was afraid her heart stopped. “Are you okay?” I asked and reached out to hold her.
“Must be the drink. I’m not used to it. Why do you think someone tried to kill him?”
I led her over to the bench by the barbeque, or what was left of it. “Before that thing blew up,” I said, pointing at the debris. “Lonnie said he knew who was doing all the poaching around here. He didn’t come out and say it outright, but I think he was blackmailing the poacher.”
Margot squeezed my hand. “Well, that’s a relief. I thought you were going to say it was Alec.”
I let go of her hand and picked up a stick. “Alec?” I asked, throwing the stick down the road for Fred. “Why Alec?”
“He set up the barbeque, so I thought you might think it was him.”
I laughed and watched Fred chase after the stick. “I didn’t think he could make his own truck payments, let alone pay off Lonnie. No, it has to be someone with money, or at least someone who can get some money.”
“Speaking of money, Jake. Don’t forget Daddy’s book. There’s a nice bonus if you can get it printed with that pip Bonnie told me about.”
I should have known twins kept no secrets from each other, so I didn’t bother correcting her on the acronym for print on demand. “I’ll start on the book tonight. I can’t talk to Lonnie about the poacher until he’s better, so I’ll get right on it.”
Fred had the stick and was coming back already. I was in no mood to play, so I asked Margot to thank her twin for inviting us and headed up the road to my cabin.
Chapter 3
I’m not exactly a recluse. I don’t even consider myself introverted most of the time. However, it felt good to be home by myself with only my dog to talk to. Fred never once pouted or became sullen when I didn’t speak, at least not that I know of. I suppose that’s why I preferred the company of a dog or a good book over endless chatter. Unfortunately, the book I was trying to read would never make any bestseller list and I could see why no editor ever got past the first chapter of “To Peleliu and Back,” by Raymond Lockhart.
To begin with, Ray’s typewriter needed a new ribbon. The type was faint and almost illegible. He also used single-spacing and had a complete disregard for punctuation. It was almost impossible to tell when one sentence ended and the next began. I had my work cut out for me if I had any hopes of turning the manuscript into anything readable. That’s when I decided to skip the process of transcribing and tried scanning it into a computer file using an optical character recognition program. That way I could use the proofreading program I used on my own work.
I had been reading by the light of a battery powered lantern which wasn’t going to power my scanner so I took everything out to my motor home and started the generator. Fred seemed eager to follow and headed for his favorite tree, only he didn’t lift his leg. He started barking at something in the shadows. I felt an adrenaline rush and thought about going back for my shotgun when a big mule deer bolted from out of nowhere and ran up the hillside.
“Thanks for scaring the piss out of me, Freddie,” I said while starting the generator. When he didn’t comment, I closed the generator cover and went back to my makeshift office. Fred looked like he couldn’t decide to follow or chase the deer. Evidently his fear of the dark overcame his hunting instinct and he joined me in the motor home.
My first attempt at using the OCR program created more errors than if I typed the text myself. Then I hit upon the idea to scan a few pages and tweak the contrast levels before performing the character recognition. I used a multi-function machine that could print, fax and scan. It had the ability to scan ten pages at a time, so I spent the next few hours feeding the twenty-year old manuscript into the machine. I was somewhere around page two hundred when the scanner jammed.
“Son of a bitch,” I yelled. “Margot is going to be pissed.” I knew the jam meant the scanner had destroyed at least one page of her book. Fred ignored my outburst and went on with his dreaming. He must have been re-living the excitement of running after sticks and rocks. His leg was twitching and his eyes moving rapidly under closed lids.
I could hear the generator coughing like a chain-smoker and knew I’d either have to go out and switch over to the main gas tank or let it die. I was too tired and frustrated, so I gave up for the night about the same time as the generator.
Fred woke first, as usual, so we did our morning ritual and I let him out the door before getting the coffee from the refrigerator. The fridge wasn’t working since my electricity had been shut off, but it was still a great place to store things because my little cabin only had one cupboard and that was full of expired can goods I had bought at the local dollar store when they were on sale. I watched Fred through the living room window while I started my camp stove. My cabin was one big room plus a bedroom and bath. The one big room consisted of a living room and kitchen. I could see out the front-room window from every corner of the house. Fred went straight to where we saw the deer the night before. That brought me back to reality and yesterday’s picnic.
“What did Chuck have against me?” I said to my empty cabin. I tried to remember when he had become so antagonistic. Was it before or after I refused to give him the manuscript?
I might have stayed at my window all day thinking about the picnic and watching Fred follow the deer scent if not for my percolator boiling over. Making coffee the old fashioned w
ay was tough. Now I knew why nobody used the old percolators anymore, but it was the best I could do until I could get my power turned back on. It made me almost wish I had accepted Chuck’s offer. I gave up on the coffee and decided I better go into town and check on Lonnie, even though he wasn’t really a friend or even a good customer. He wouldn’t have been hurt if I had warned him about the leaking valves. The least I could do was to stop by and see him.
The paramedics said they would take him to Lutheran hospital in Wheat Ridge, so I tried that number first. The hospital desk transferred my call to his room. Nobody answered. It was just as well; Fred was at the front door and wanted back in.
“What you got there, Boy?” I asked when I opened the door. My question was more of a greeting for I could see it was a stick, until I got a better look. “Where did you find that?”
He answered by dropping it at my feet. I hadn’t seen the feathers on the shaft when the arrow was in his mouth. Fred waited for me to pick it up, and then ran off the porch. Just like a wide receiver, he knew how far I could throw a stick so he was headed toward that spot.
“Not now, Freddie. I’ve got to go into town. I promise we can play when I get back.”
Fred ignored me, or maybe he just didn’t understand. For whatever reason, he gave up and went back to where the deer had been the night before. I decided I better go get him before he found the other half of the arrow. If this was a hunting arrow, it could very well have a razor-blade tip.
“Holy, Jesus,” I said when I caught up with Fred. There was a large red-spot on the ground with the telltale trail of a bleeding animal heading up the hill. It had to be the deer we saw last night. I felt a cold chill go up my spine. Deer season was months away; not that it was legal to hunt anywhere near here. If it was the poacher who shot it, he must have been watching us last night.
Reason said to follow the trail backwards to where the deer had been shot. Maybe I could find the poacher’s tracks or something he left behind, but Fred had other ideas. He was headed in the direction we saw the deer run. I decided I better follow him in case he should track down the poor animal. The deer could be bleeding or dead. Fred followed the blood tracks up the hill and I followed Fred. Eventually they disappeared and Fred lost the scent before finding the wounded animal. I was somewhat ambivalent about not finding the poor thing. I don’t know what I would have done if we had, yet I felt bad that he would probably become some coyote’s next meal. As a result, it was past noon by the time I made it to Wheat Ridge.
[To Die For 02] - A Book to Die For (2014) Page 3
