Touching Cottonwood

by Randall Simpson

  “Now, what could be more interesting than your training videos?” asked Brenda, followed by a wink.

  “Oh, I’m sure lots of things are,” he said, not taking offense.

  “And so?” she said, prodding him for a reply by glancing at the camera.

  Ernie moved closer and lowered his voice. “I’m going to videotape the inside of our walk-in fridge.”

  “Oh, of course, the inside of your refrigerator! That certainly would be far more interesting than your regular training videos,” said Brenda.

  She had apparently said this too loudly for Ernie’s liking, as he looked around to make sure no one had heard her. William had been standing off to the side watching the interchange, and at that moment, Ernie glanced at him and then back to Brenda.

  Brenda picked up the meaning of his glance. “Oh, I’m sorry…Ernie, this is William Dressler. He’s from CDEM, the Colorado Division of Emergency Management office. They’ve come down here to help us handle this crisis.”

  “Nice to meet you,” said Ernie, reaching out with his free hand and shaking William’s hand.

  “And nice to meet you,” said William. “You’ve got some great food here.”

  “Thanks,” said Ernie. “Glad you liked it.”

  “So you’re going to do some kind of video today?” asked William, looking at the camera and tripod.

  Ernie glanced around, huddled even closer to Brenda and William, and lowered his voice. “Actually, I’ve got a bit of a mystery on my hands here,” began Ernie. “Things are happening that shouldn’t be, back in our kitchen—very strange things.”

  “Oh, are you talking about the miracle fridge?” asked Brenda, smiling broadly.

  “I guess you’ve heard then,” said Ernie, not smiling.

  “Yes, Robbie just told us all about it,” said Brenda. “Looks like you’ve got some pranksters on your staff.”

  “Maybe,” said Ernie flatly.

  “I get it,” said William, “and you’re going to catch them with that camera. Pretty sly, but you might want to hide it better. Maybe a small web camera, or something, would be more subtle.”

  William and Brenda were smiling broadly, but Ernie had a serious look on his face. In almost a whisper, he said, “Here’s the thing…this all makes absolutely no sense, whatsoever. You see, I get deliveries every day. Yesterday, we were expecting a truck just after lunch, but this crisis prevented it from getting here. I run a small business, and I keep tight control of my supplies and inventories—very tight—I have to. I run on thin margins around here. Anyway, I know, for a fact, that I had just one five-gallon container of milk left just before noon yesterday. I was scheduled to have three more delivered yesterday, and then three more today, but of course, neither of those deliveries made it through.”

  Brenda and William had stopped smiling and looked at Ernie carefully, trying to grasp exactly what he was saying.

  “So, I’m stuck with a real mystery right here in my diner,” Ernie continued. “We have not run out of milk, eggs, cheese, or anything so far, and somehow they just keep showing up. With the huge rush we had last night, my busiest night in twenty years, I’ve gone through twenty-five gallons of milk that could never have possibly been delivered. I’m going to set this camera up in the walk-in and let it run, to find out exactly what the hell is going on when that blasted door is closed.”

  Brenda and William looked at each other and then back to Ernie.

  “And you don’t think it’s one of your employees?” asked William.

  “I’m not sure what to think, to tell you the truth. Like I said, it’s a mystery at this point. But I can tell you this, if somehow it is one of my employees, I’ll need to promote them, because they’ve managed to hide a small closet-full of food around in my limited back room and then bring it out when no one’s watching. Now that’s a resourceful person!”

  “Very,” said William.

  “Well, good luck,” said Brenda, not knowing what else to say. “And I’d keep my eye on Robbie, if I were you. He’s played worse tricks than this before.”

  “Thanks,” said Ernie, “and nice to meet you, William, and thanks for stopping in for lunch today. We always appreciate your business. If you’re still in town tonight, come back for dinner.”

  William and Brenda smiled as they watched Ernie start back toward the kitchen door, carrying his tripod and camera. The two then continued toward the front door and just before reaching it, someone rang the cowbell again. They turned around in the direction of the clanging and saw Ernie standing by the kitchen door with his camera, also staring at the waitress who’d just rung the bell.

  “Just missed one, Mr. Martinelli,” said the young woman.

  “Damn!” exclaimed Ernie as he quickly turned and disappeared with his camera into the kitchen.

  Thirty-Nine

  Found Baby

  Walker Field Airport in Grand Junction, Colorado, serves as a major hub of air transportation for the region. Though relatively small, dozens of commercial flights come and go each day to points all across the country. A person can catch a flight from Walker Field and then with just one stop, perhaps in Denver, can catch a flight to anywhere in the world.

  It was a Grand Junction police officer that first spotted Ned Quinlan’s car parked in a lot at the airport. The Colorado State Patrol had put out a bulletin to help locate the car, and, sure enough, parked in a remote lot at the perimeter of the airport was the midnight blue, all-electric vehicle.

  “You found it?” asked Ned. “Where?”

  “At the airport in Grand Junction,” said Sheriff O’Neil, on the other end of the phone call.

  “Grand Junction! When can I get it back?”

  “Calm down, Ned,” cautioned the sheriff. “There are just a few things we need to wrap up first, before you can have it back.”

  “What sort of things?! I want my car back!”

  “There you go, Ned, raising your voice with me,” said the sheriff calmly. “Sparky said you nearly tore his head off last night when he visited you. You may scream at him, but you won’t do it with me.”

  “What the hell kind of deal is this, John?!” screamed Ned.

  “Ned, I’ll warn you one more time,” said the sheriff, “and then I’m gonna have to hang up and let you cool down for a while…don’t raise your voice like that with me. Do you want to know about your car or not?”

  There was silence for a moment. “Sorry,” said Ned finally. “It’s just that my car is important to me. You know that.”

  “I do know that, we all do, and that’s why I think, overall, you’re going to come out of this just fine.”

  “I don’t think I like the sound of that. Overall, I’m going to come out just fine? What happened to the car, John?”

  Sheriff O’Neil was sitting behind his desk as he spoke, doodling on a small note pad. He was attempting to draw an airplane taking off, but it was crude and looked nothing like a plane but rather more like a large bird.

  “Well,” the sheriff continued, “it looks like whoever stole your car was probably drunk, high, or maybe both. I’m gonna be honest with you, Ned—it’s been dinged up a little. At least that’s what the state patrol told me.”

  There was a long silence. It sounded like Ned might have even covered the mouthpiece on the phone as he yelled or screamed. After a few moments, he came back on. “Okay, so how is it that I’m going to come out of this whole thing just fine, as you said? My car’s been taken from me and now damaged—I won’t be fine.”

  “Well, here’s where you really are a lucky man. You see, whoever took your car, and I’ll tell you my theory on that in a moment, but whoever took it left ten thousand dollars on the driver’s seat—that’s right—ten thousand dollars! It was apparently wrapped inside a blank envelope. This is possibly very lucky for you and probably very unlucky on their part.”

  “How’s that lucky for me?” asked Ned. “Obviously, the police aren’t going to let me keep that money. It’s probably
stolen. Whoever stole my car probably held up some convenience store or something, and that money is stolen—I’ll never see it.”

  “You’re a pretty smart man, Ned,” said the sheriff. “I think you could have made a good cop, if you weren’t an accountant; you kind of hit upon my theory. My guess is that your car was stolen by someone who had already committed a crime—maybe involved in a robbery or maybe a drug dealer. They got caught in this traffic blackout here and desperately needed to get out of the area. They were obviously in a hurry and also high on drugs or something, and that’s why they dinged your car like they did. I think in their haste and mental state, they dropped that envelope of money accidentally on the driver’s seat. It all adds up and is the only explanation that makes sense.”

  Ned was silent for a moment, then slowly he said, “Maybe that’s right, but again, I’ll never see a dime of it.”

  “That’s where I hope to prove you wrong,” said the sheriff as he continued to doodle on the notepad. “The state patrol will attempt to trace the money to see where it came from and if it was stolen. As is true in the majority of these cases, that money won’t be traceable. If that turns out to be the case, I’ve already received permission to turn that money over to you. It’s the least we can do to compensate you for using and then losing your car.”

  Ned was again quiet for a moment and then finally said, “Well, I’m not going to be holding my breath on this one. I just want to get my car back and then have my insurance adjuster look at it to see what they’ll cover. If it’s too bad, I’ll probably just junk the thing and get a new one.”

  “Try to think positively about this, Ned,” the sheriff said. “Maybe it won’t be as bad as you think. Maybe your insurance company will fix it, plus you’ll get the money and be ten thousand dollars richer. Normally, these things take months, but I’ve got a few connections at the state patrol, and I’m hoping to get things moving much faster than that.”

  “I appreciate your optimism, but again, I’m not holding my breath,” said Ned. “And what about the car thief? Is there any chance of finding him?”

  “I’m less optimistic about that,” said the sheriff as he added some wispy clouds above the airplane doodle. “Unless they get lucky and find some prints they can match up with some in their database, the odds of finding the thief are pretty small. It looks like they caught a flight for God knows where—probably off to commit more crimes.”

  Ned let out a big sigh. “All right, so how and when do I get my car back?”

  “After they get done checking it all out and dusting for prints, I would think they’ll be driving it down here in the next few days. I’ll let you know when it arrives.”

  After the sheriff and Ned finished their conversation, the sheriff stopped doodling and yelled for Sparky to come into his office. After a moment, Sparky came into the sheriff’s office holding a super-jumbo Tasty Burger in one hand and a drink in the other.

  “What’s up?” Sparky asked, through the chewing of his burger.

  “How’s that Internet search going on Matthew Duncan?”

  “I’ve kinda been eating my lunch first. I was planning to get started pretty soon.”

  “Well, make it real soon,” the sheriff said. “They’ve found Ned’s car up in Grand Junction at the airport. If we didn’t just see Mr. Duncan a half hour ago, I would have suspected he took it, but I’m still not giving up on the idea that he’s connected with it somehow. I need you to get going on that Internet search. Maybe he didn’t come back to Cottonwood alone but had some associates with him.”

  Sparky made a big slurping sound with his drink and then said, “You mean like a gang or something?”

  “I don’t know what I mean, right now,” replied the sheriff as he stood and moved past Sparky, who was standing in the doorway. “There’s just too many oddball things happening in this town, and Matthew Duncan is the oddest person I know. There’s just got to be some connection.” The sheriff headed for the front door and without turning around, finished with, “I’ll be down by the river with the search party for the rest of the afternoon. You sit your butt down at that computer and get to work.”

  Sparky stayed where he was until he was sure the sheriff was definitely gone. He moved over to the seat the sheriff had just occupied and sat down, taking the last bite of his Tasty Burger. He reached over and picked up the notepad and looked at the doodle of the airplane the sheriff had made, turning the notepad first one way and then another. After a minute or so, he tossed the notepad back on the desk and leaned back, putting his feet up on the desk.

  A big smile blossomed on Sparky’s face. “You may be the sheriff,” he said to the empty room, “but you sure can’t draw birds.” He sat there for a while, sipping the soda and dreaming. Sitting in this particular chair was one of Sparky’s favorite pastimes when the sheriff was away.

  Forty

  A Meeting at the Home

  The CDEM group, led by Gwendolyn Mercer, and a few of the members of the Cottonwood emergency committee drove the four miles out to the Home in their caravan of three electric cars. They pulled in just about the time that Amanda and Chelsea Reese were arriving by bicycle for lunch with Dr. Reese.

  Amanda and Chelsea parked their bikes and slid off their backpacks, while the CDEM group exited their cars and were heading for the front steps. Before the group had made it even halfway up the steps, Dr. Reese came outside and greeted the entire group.

  “You must be Ms. Mercer,” said Dr. Reese as he extended his hand.

  “And you must be Doctor Reese,” Gwendolyn reciprocated as they shook hands.

  Gwendolyn then introduced the other members of the CDEM team to Dr. Reese, who shook each of their hands and smiled at the few members of the visiting group who were from Cottonwood.

  After all the greetings were finished, Dr. Reese said to Gwendolyn, “Well, thanks for coming out here. I know we’re not exactly under your jurisdiction with the state, but anytime we get someone from any department out here, we’re glad for it.”

  “I’ve heard some good things about your facility, Doctor Reese,” said Gwendolyn. “I didn’t want to come all the way to Cottonwood and not stop by. I know you’ve received national recognition for your efforts here. You must be proud.”

  “Thanks for the kind words. It’s really my staff that has been in the spotlight.” Just as he said this, he looked over and realized that Amanda and Chelsea were standing a few feet behind the main group.

  “Excuse me,” said Dr. Reese to Gwendolyn, looking over at them. “I didn’t realize that my family has just arrived as well.”

  Dr. Reese motioned over to Amanda and Chelsea to step closer. “Gwendolyn Mercer, this is my wife, Amanda, and my daughter, Chelsea.”

  “Nice to meet you,” said Gwendolyn as she shook Amanda’s hand.

  “And nice to meet you,” said Amanda.

  “Hi,” said Chelsea, smiling at Gwendolyn.

  Dr. Reese looked at Amanda and Chelsea. “Gwendolyn is the regional director of CDEM, which is the Colorado Division of Emergency Management. She and her staff have come down from Grand Junction to survey the transportation crisis we are having. They decided at the last minute to stop by and tour our facility, and we’re glad to have them.”

  Amanda smiled. “Well, we don’t want to get in the way,” she said, looking at Gwendolyn. “We just brought some lunch out to Paul, as he had to stay over here last night. Maybe we’ll just leave it and head back to town.”

  “Oh,” said Gwendolyn, “we don’t want to interfere with your lunch plans.” She turned and looked at Dr. Reese. “Perhaps someone else on your staff can show us around?”

  Dr. Reese looked at the large group, ready for their tour, and then back to Amanda. “Tell you what,” he said to her, “why don’t you and Chelsea go set up on the lawn under the big tree, and I’ll at least get the tour started. I can hand it off to one of my staff to finish up.”

  Dr. Reese looked at Gwendolyn. “Actually, I think you�
�ll enjoy having my staff conduct part of the tour, as they have much more personal interaction with the residents on a daily basis than I do.”

  “Whatever you feel is best,” said Gwendolyn. “I’d hate to keep you from enjoying lunch with your family.”

  “I’ll be out in a few minutes,” Dr. Reese said to Amanda.

  She smiled as though she knew it would be twenty, at least. “We’ll get set up. Just take your time,” Amanda said as she and Chelsea headed toward the front lawn.

  The CDEM group and the few tagalongs from the Cottonwood emergency committee followed Dr. Reese inside, touring the main administration area, main dining room, and family visitation areas first. As they were heading down the main hallway toward the recreation area, William Dressler, who was walking toward the back of the group, spoke up:

  “Uh, Doctor Reese,” he said, causing the group to stop, turn around, and look at him. He was pointing up at one of the security cameras on the wall, close to the ceiling. “I can’t help but notice the many cameras you have throughout the facility. I’d be curious to hear about your security efforts.”

  Dr. Reese smiled and cleared his throat. “Well,” he began, “thank you for your interest. The security and safety of our residents is, of course, a top priority. We have a very comprehensive security system in place, and I’m pleased to say there have been no significant security issues that we haven’t been able to handle since I’ve been director here. Our security team is headed up by Edward Flynn. He is highly trained, comes from a military security background, and I have the utmost confidence in his skills. The numerous cameras you’ll notice around here are something fairly new that he’s initiated, and he’s adding more all the time.”

  Gwendolyn looked up at the camera and then back to Dr. Reese. “And a good idea, I’d say,” she said, nodding her head.

  “But I would take it these cameras are not allowed in patients’ rooms?” asked William.

  “Absolutely, not,” replied Dr. Reese. “Under no circumstances are they. It’s against state law. The residents have complete privacy in their rooms.”