Iris Avenue

by Pamela Grandstaff

  “Quit talking about that,” the man said. “I ain’t gonna kill him.”

  “But you have to,” Gabe said. “No witnesses, remember?”

  “You need to shut up,” the man said.

  Tires spun behind them, headlights zoomed up toward the rear window, and the man in the back seat turned to look back, saying, “What the…”

  Gabe launched himself into the back seat, knocking Scott sideways and causing him to lift his foot off the brake. The Explorer rolled into the water. While the two men struggled in the backseat, the vehicle floated a few yards before an uprooted tree carried along on the fast-moving current slammed into it, and sent it spinning. A gun went off and the back window of the Explorer exploded. Scott grabbed his gun out of his holster and spun around in his seat. Gabe looked back at him as calmly as if nothing had happened, even though he was spattered with bright red blood.

  “You might be willing to die for her,” Gabe said. “But I’m not.”

  The SUV hit the brick wall that surrounded the college, then scraped against it as it was driven down toward the fast moving river. Scott knew they had very little time left. Using his door controls, he rolled down all the windows, thankful the water hadn’t yet drowned the electronic mechanism.

  “Good luck,” Gabe said, and climbed out the back window. Scott released his seat belt, climbed out through the driver’s side window, and climbed onto the roof of the SUV. Water filled the cabin of the vehicle and it began to sink, nose first. Scott heard a man yelling his name.

  “Here!” Scott called out. “By the wall!”

  It was dark and pouring rain but the headlights of the vehicle up the hill behind them and the lights on the Eldridge College campus illuminated his predicament. As soon as the SUV cleared the wall, it would be swept up by a raging river churning with debris, headed for the dam below town. He wouldn’t survive it.

  The SUV tipped further and sank fast; Scott climbed backwards until the tailgate disappeared into the dark, frigid water. He went under and then bobbed back up. The shock of the cold water knocked the breath out of him and he found he couldn’t call out again. The current slammed him into the wall. Scott scrabbled with his hands against the bricks but the wall was still high enough that he couldn’t reach the ironwork at the top.

  He thought about Maggie, and how sad he was he’d never see her again. He heard a boat motor and saw the spotlight. It temporarily blinded him.

  “Scott!” Cal Fischer shouted. “We’re throwing you a line!”

  Scott felt the rope land across his shoulder and grabbed hold of it with both hands. Once again he bounced off the brick wall, felt a sharp pain in his shoulder, and had to drop his left hand from the rope. His right hand was so cold it was almost completely numb, but he was still able to grip the rope and wrap it around his wrist as the current pushed him down toward where the wall ended, a few yards away. Cal’s boat loomed up out of the darkness.

  “Hold on!” Malcolm yelled. “We’ll pull you in!”

  As Cal turned the boat and towed him away from the wall, Scott could feel them pulling the rope, reeling him in, and moments later two sets of strong hands hauled him up out of the water into the boat.

  “Gabe’s out there,” Scott said through chattering teeth. “We need to go back.”

  Malcolm looked out through the torrential rain at the madly swirling currents.

  “Too dangerous,” he said.

  “But you did it for me,” Scott said.

  Malcolm shrugged.

  “He’s not worth it.”

  Malcolm carefully unwound the rope from Scott’s wrist. The pain in his shoulder was excruciating.

  “How did you know what was going on?” Scott asked him.

  “I called him,” someone else said.

  Scott turned in the boat, crying out at the pain in his injured shoulder as he did so, just so he could see who was speaking. It was federal agent Jamie Brown.

  CHAPTER TEN - Monday

  At noon on Monday, a day after he was originally scheduled to be buried, Timothy Brian MacGregor was laid to rest in a muddy hand-dug grave in the Rose Hill Cemetery. The sky was overcast and the wind was sharp. A “V” formation of Canada Geese flew over, heading northward, honk-honking as they passed.

  Mayor Stuart Machalvie had arranged for a piper, paid for by the Kilt and Bagpipe Club, of which Tim had been a charter member. The mournful wail could be heard all the way down at the Eldridge College campus, and it echoed off the hills across the Little Bear River. The brothers of the Whistle Pig Lodge, of which Tim had also been a member, serenaded the assembled with three verses (a mercifully shortened version in deference to the weather) of a ten-verse Scottish dirge, accompanied by the piper.

  Maggie stood shivering between Hannah and Sean while her mother sobbed, held up between Sean and Patrick. Scott, Sam, and Ed stood behind them. Maggie’s father had been in no shape to attend any part of the service, so his brothers Curtis and Ian were at home with him. Ava stood off to the side, holding hands with daughter Charlotte and son Timothy. Agent Jamie Brown, his eyes covered by dark glasses, stood behind her holding Little Fitz.

  After each family member threw a handful of dirt on Grandpa Tim’s coffin, they rode in the hearse back to the Community Center. Patrick and Sean had to help their mother inside. Maggie and Hannah huddled close together for warmth as they waited outside for Scott, Sam, and Ed to arrive.

  “How are you doing?” Hannah asked.

  “You don’t have to ask me that every five minutes,” Maggie said. “I’m okay.”

  “You want to talk about what happened last night?”

  “No one bothered to call and tell me about it until this morning,” Maggie said.

  “I didn’t know about it until I got to the church today. Those scanner grannies must’ve all been asleep on the job last night.”

  “He could have died,” Maggie said.

  “They haven’t found Gabe,” Hannah said.

  Maggie shrugged.

  “Which one were you most upset about?” Hannah asked. “When you heard the news, I mean. Which one did you think, ‘oh woe is me, I can’t live without him?’ Was it Scott or Gabe?”

  “You know,” Maggie said, “the only thing that keeps me from throttling you some days is how fond I am of your father.”

  “You want to hear some good news?”

  “Sam’s home and walking. I know that.”

  “Nope, even better than that.”

  “You got your grant?”

  “Nope.”

  “Hannah, just tell me.”

  “There’s a tiny tart in my toaster oven.”

  “Oh, I already knew that.”

  “Who told you?”

  “You might as well have,” Maggie said. “You quit smoking and drinking, you’re sick all the time, and you’ve found religion. I’m not looking forward to nine months of this.”

  “Only six more months, but then I have to breast-feed the little monkey. I am looking forward to finally filling out a bra.”

  Maggie hugged her.

  “I’m so happy for you,” she said. “Why didn’t you tell me when you first suspected?”

  “I wanted to make sure it was real first. Telling you makes it real and official.”

  “Your mother is going to go berserk.”

  “I know; we aren’t telling her yet. If it’s a girl, she may take it away from me. She probably saved all those pageant dresses, you know.”

  “I won’t let her do it. I’ll keep an eye on her.”

  “I hate when they put pink headbands on bald baby girls. You know my mother will have one of those waiting in the delivery room to snap on her little noggin as soon as she pops out.”

  “She’ll have lots of books,” Maggie said. “I’ll personally be in charge of all the books.”

  Sam and Ed arrived. Maggie hugged Sam and said, “Congratulations.”

  He hugged her back, and when she looked in his eyes she was heartened by what she saw t
here.

  “How are you doing?” Sam asked her as they walked to the front door of the Community Center.

  “I’m just going with the flow,” Maggie said. “I’m just accepting what is.”

  “That sounds kind of new age-y.”

  “Caroline once told me that’s what the Buddhists do. It keeps them from suffering.”

  “How’s that working out for you?”

  “It’s quite calming, actually,” Maggie said. “I do feel guilty about not caring as much as I should. I think that must be what Catholic Buddhists do.”

  They all made their way into the Community Center, where there was a loud buzz that sounded more like a party than a funeral. Maggie’s mother was sitting in a place of honor, receiving condolences.

  “I don’t know why this reminds me of The Godfather,” Sam said to Maggie.

  “My mother is a force to be reckoned with,” Maggie said. “Hannah says Ava’s the queen of this town’s pity party, but I say there’s our new queen.”

  “I don’t think Ava pities herself,” Sam said. “I think she’s been very brave. It was hard for her to stand up to your mother yesterday. She hasn’t had it easy.”

  “Well, where is this paragon of virtue whom others call Ava?”

  “Agent Brown took her home. After that scene with Bonnie at the hospital, I can hardly blame her for not being here. Why do you and Hannah have to be so hard on her? She only ever says nice things about you two. She could use your support right now.”

  “Why, when she’s obviously got yours and every other man’s in this town?”

  “Don’t be petty, Maggie. She’s under an incredible strain right now. You don’t even know how much.”

  “Well, she’s free of my brother at last. I wonder if she and Patrick will finally get together.”

  “Hmmm,” was all Sam said.

  Maggie was even more irritated by this non-answer.

  “You don’t have to baby-sit me, you know,” Maggie said. “I’m perfectly fine.”

  “Okay, okay,” Sam said, and went to get something to drink.

  Maggie found Hannah raiding the olive bowl.

  “Leave some for the rest of the town,” Maggie said.

  “Hey, c’mere,” Hannah whispered, pulling Maggie to a quiet spot. “Who was the hunky guy with Ava at the hospital and the cemetery?”

  “That’s the head FBI agent, Jamie Brown. He’s staying at Ava’s.”

  “James Brown? Get out of here! The king of soul? The hardest workin’ man in show business?”

  Maggie smiled, which was no doubt Hannah’s goal.

  “You should have seen the way he was looking at her,” Hannah said. “I think he’s taking the notion of body-guarding verrrry seriously. I think maybe Agent Brown is on the scene like a sex machine.”

  “Really? He just seems like a nice guy to me.”

  “Uh huh. That’s just how he softens up the ladies. Then the cape comes out and it’s all, ‘Get on up-a!’”

  “Ava did tell Scott he didn’t have to stay with her now that Jamie’s there.”

  “You know, it’s a man’s world, but it wouldn’t be nothin’ without a woman or a girl.”

  “Hannah. Her husband died yesterday.”

  “Uh huh, I saw how anxious she was to pull the plug.”

  “This is my brother we’re talking about.”

  “You weren’t that fond of him, either.”

  “I know, but stop. I just…I don’t want to joke about it.”

  “But now that Ava’s a merry widow, don’t you think it will be interesting to see which silly ass she ends up with?”

  “Well, I doubt it will be Jamie.”

  “He ain’t no drag,” Hannah said. “Papa’s got a brand new bag.”

  Maggie thought about how quickly and vigorously every man in this town came to Ava’s defense, and thought she could probably take her pick.

  Hannah was singing, “I Feel Good” under her breath, so Maggie threw an olive at her.

  Sam was in the game room, his pants hiked up to show Patrick his new legs.

  “Rotational shock absorbing pylons,” Sam said. “They have microchips in them.”

  “Are you able to leap tall buildings in a single bound?” Patrick asked.

  “Not yet,” Sam said. “But we’re working on it.”

  “You were never this tall before,” Patrick said. “You asked for longer ones just so you’d be taller than me, didn’t ya?”

  “I did,” Sam said. “It’s always been a dream of mine: walking again, and being taller than you.”

  “Hannah said you rode a bike while you were up there.”

  “It was the best I’ve felt in a long time,” Sam said. “Riding that bike was so easy I couldn’t believe it. Remember how good it felt to do that when we were kids? It feels like flying. I only wrecked once; pothole got me.”

  “I bet you could play basketball in those things.”

  “Eventually, yeah, probably.”

  “We could get some bigger pistons added, maybe some huge springs to give you more leverage. Lester down at the station could probably put those in for you.”

  “I’ll look into it,” Sam said. “Do you know Pudge Postelthwaite’s son Caleb?”

  “Sad story. Drunk driver, I heard, totaled his car; Doc said they saved his left leg but not the right.”

  “I’m going to introduce him to Alan while he’s here, then raise enough money for him to go up there and get fitted with something. The sooner he does it the better, I think.”

  “Let me know what I can do; we can always have a fish fry or a spaghetti dinner.”

  “I knew I could count on you.”

  “Did you hear about our bet with the Pendleton Perverts?” Patrick asked.

  “Hannah told me. That was truly inspired.”

  “The only problem is we set the bar so high I hate to think what will happen if we lose the next game.”

  “Don’t worry. As soon as I get my new legs tricked out we should be all set.”

  “Glad you’re back, man,” Patrick said. “This has been a tough week in a tough year and we need you here.”

  “You doing okay?”

  “You know me and Brian never got along. He was such a jerk to Ava and the kids. My mom and dad are broken up about it, but I don’t feel much of anything.”

  “Your grandpa was a character,” Sam said. “Do you remember the time your Uncle Curtis took us all on a hayride and Grandpa Tim fell off the back of the wagon?”

  “He said if we promised not to tell Bonnie he’d fallen off the wagon, he’d buy us all movie tickets. And he did.”

  “He was a sweet man,” Sam said. “After I came back from the Gulf he came to visit me and told me his World War II stories. He said he still had bad dreams about what he saw over there; said it was like living through it over and over every night.”

  “He would never go hunting with us,” Patrick said. “He hated guns.”

  “He helped me, you know,” Sam said. “He understood what I was going through.”

  “Now, him I’ll miss,” Patrick said, and wiped his eyes.

  “I have some good news,” Sam said. “Did you know Hannah’s pregnant?”

  “No! Congratulations! That’s great news,” Patrick said as he hugged Sam. “Ah, man, that’s wonderful. A son, maybe. That’s just great.”

  “I heard Ava has a new addition to her family.”

  “Yep. Cute kid. Looks just like Timmy.”

  “You guys still off?”

  “Yeah, probably for the best.”

  “She’s a widow now, though.”

  “That may be true, but to my mother she’ll always be Brian’s wife.”

  Scott cornered Doc Machalvie in the cloakroom, where he was pouring something from a flask into his coffee cup.

  “You caught me,” Doc said. “The older I get the more friends I lose. I need a little nip to get through these days.”

  “I appreciated your help last night.”<
br />
  “You’re lucky to be alive,” Doc said. “How’s the shoulder?”

  “Sore,” Scott said. “But I’m okay.”

  “And you’re sure you didn’t hit your head?”

  “No,” Scott said. “Amazingly enough, the one thing that doesn’t ache today is my head.”

  “Is there anything I can do for you?” Doc asked.

  “Tell me this,” Scott said. “Did Agent Brown question you about helping Brian Fitzpatrick?”

  Doc’s face sagged.

  “You know about that, do you?” Doc said, and reached out to steady himself on a nearby chair.

  “When did he come to see you?” Scott asked him.

  “Yesterday. No, no, day before yesterday,” Doc said, rubbing his face with one hand, and sloshing coffee out of his mug with the other. “It wasn’t Agent Brown; it was the other one. It was after I got home from the wake. Don’t blame Frank. He was asleep in the car out front when the agent showed up. I certainly didn’t want anyone else to hear what I said.”

  “You knew where Brian was and you told him.”

  Doc sat down on the chair he was gripping. His face was gray and his hands were shaking so hard Scott took the mug out of his hand so he wouldn’t drop it.

  “What did you tell them?” Scott repeated.

  “I thought they would arrest him and put him back in jail, not kill him,” Doc said.

  “Did you help him after he escaped?”

  “I stitched him up. I gave him some painkillers and antibiotics. That’s all. I told him not to call again. I said I wouldn’t help him anymore.”

  “Where was he?”

  “Fitz’s hunting cabin.”

  Scott could have smacked his own head. He’d forgotten all about that cabin.

  “If those photos get out,” Doc said, “it will kill my wife.”

  “Those photos were destroyed after Theo died,” Scott said.

  “But the agent said there were photos,” Doc said. “They knew Theo was blackmailing me and they found the photos in his safe.”

  “They found out about the blackmail from Phyllis. Those photos were destroyed before the feds got to the safe.”