by Simon Okill
"Wouldn't you like to see Bigfoot?"
Willis turned to look at his partner and wondered if she was being annoying on purpose or was she completely unaware of how much of a mind -blowing, brain-destroying irritant she was these days?
Once they got back to Sacramento, Willis promised himself he was going to insist on another partner, one that was less of a blabber mouth of humungous proportions.
"I'd like to see Bigfoot," Merlot said as she glanced in the rear view mirror and saw a solitary figure on a motorcycle coming down the road behind them. Her eyes opened wide in amazement.
"I didn't know Bigfoot knew how to ride a motorcycle," she commented with a smile.
Willis glanced in the passenger side mirror and saw his old friend Duane approaching on his bike, wearing his Bigfoot duds and his Bigfoot helmet. Bigfoot's furry party head was attached to the back of the Harley Davidson, along with his guitar.
"Fuck . . . it would have to be triple D, that dumbass, Duane Dexter," Willis muttered. He watched Duane come alongside their car and wave frantically.
Willis didn't return the gesture. His expression was serious, not even a glimmer of a smile for his oldest and one-time best friend. Deep down, Willis wanted to cry for ditching him too. But the rock remained just that-a rock.
Merlot waved back, "Hey, Mister Bigfoot!"
With a wave of his hand, Duane drove past the FBI car and sped off down the road in front of them, entering the outer limits of Big Beaver.
"Does everyone you know have to be an asshole or a dumbass?" Merlot asked. "You know it takes one to know one."
Yeah, he knew the guy. Willis remembered what good friends he and Duane had been. He had brief recollections of their glorious fishing trips for steelhead. They went back a long way. They'd grown up together in Big Beaver. They'd been like brothers, no, more like blood brothers. But that was then.
This was now. Willis hadn't seen or spoken to Duane for exactly thirteen years, along with everyone else in Big Beaver-everyone being her. And here he was returning to his shitty hometown to help solve a shitty case so some shitty nut doctor could declare Willis fit for shitty duty. The nightmare was about to begin. Shit! Shit! Shit!
15
MERLOT DROVE DOWN the main street of Big Beaver. She noted with a smile, Big Beaver's bustling thoroughfare lined with the usual kind of shops and businesses one would expect in a thriving tourist trap.
Beaverites and tourists alike sauntered happily along the boardwalks, going about their day-to-day business.
Willis pointed to the sheriff's department next door to Annie's Diner.
Merlot saw Annie's Diner and grinned mischievously as she pulled up next to a patrol car. She got out and stretched aching muscles.
So this is Big Beaver. Cool!
"I'm having a David Lynch moment." She thought the town looked as though, at any moment, a miniature truck, laden with logs would drive through the town of Twin Peaks. She looked at Willis and sniggered at the scowl on her partner's face.
Willis started walking towards the sheriff's building.
Merlot frowned, "Hey, don't you want to see Annie?" She indicated Annie's Diner.
WILLIS GRUNTED. Nothing had changed. He was in a shitty time warp. Shit! Why should his partner think he'd want to see Annie Bumgardner? She was the furthest thing from his mind. He didn't acknowledge Merlot as he entered the sheriff's department. His stomach was in overdrive. He wanted to puke.
LOU SAT AT HER DESK going over some paperwork. She looked up when Deputy Dwight knocked on her open door and showed the two FBI agents into her office. She'd been expecting their arrival, but she definitely hadn't expected to see Willis Johnson, the heartless bastard.
The sudden, heart-stopping shock caused Lou's hand to crunch up a piece of a report. She dropped it into a wastebasket without another thought as her mouth dropped open in surprise. She swallowed nervously. He had finally come back after all these years-after countless unreturned phone calls and letters.
Lou could feel her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Was she blushing? Oh God, no, she hoped not. The last thing she wanted was to go all girlish and weak-kneed. Get a hold of yourself. You're the town sheriff, not some sweet, innocent high school kid. But that's exactly how she felt and that's exactly where her heart had been left-on the high school prom altar of love.
Lou shifted uncomfortably in her chair. She and Willis made uneasy eye contact. An eternity stretched into seconds.
Deputy Dwight hovered by the door waiting for his orders.
"Agents Johnson and Merlot," he announced. He cleared his throat and paused by the door.
MERLOT WATCHED Lou and Willis continue to stare uneasily at each other. Merlot, the incurable romantic, knew this day would get better, and came to the conclusion she had made a big mistake. No-make that a huge mistake, for Annie wasn't the reason for her partner's behavior. How could she be so far out of whack? To take her mind off things she eyed up Dwight with her woodometer.
Dwight noticed the curious glance from the delectable Merlot and flushed with embarrassment.
Hmm . . . haven't had chubby sex in a long time. Nice piece of softwood , Merlot thought.
Dwight cleared his throat, "Anyone for coffee and doughnuts?"
Merlot looked knowingly at the sheriff and her partner, thinking-go on kiss her, you idiot.
"Agent Johnson?" Dwight prompted. Dwight waited for a respectable moment. "Agent Johnson?"
"Yeah, whatever," Willis replied, obviously distracted.
The female agent correctly ascertained that Willis' well ordered world was spinning out of his control by the beads of sweat bursting on his forehead.
Dwight turned to his boss. "Coffee and doughnuts, Sheriff?"
LOU'S ATTENTION was so focused on her old flame she didn't hear her deputy ask if she wanted doughnuts and coffee. Her head had exploded with the music of love. Willis had changed. He was leaner. His handsome face was more chiseled. He looked older. She noticed a few flecks of silver in his auburn hair. The suit and tie looked good on him, but she remembered nostalgically how gorgeous he looked in tight jeans and a t-shirt. Good enough to eat.
"Sheriff," Dwight persisted in an impatient way.
Finally Lou spoke in an off-handed way, "Hold the doughnuts."
Deputy Dwight nodded and left the office, closing the door.
Lou couldn't tell what Willis was thinking. He looked so cold and indifferent. He was all business. He was FBI right down to his regulation shiny shoes.
"It's been a long time, Willis," Lou said in her serious voice, but one that lacked its usual authority. She remembered him being the decent, clean-cut and all-round honest guy, someone who took things a little too seriously but could laugh when called for. Above all he had been her best friend and first love.
She had sworn if she ever saw him again she'd take a swipe at him. She could never forgive him for ditching her without saying goodbye. So what if his parents were moving to San Francisco. He could have at least said goodbye. It had been left to Duane to break the bad news.
Suddenly all the pent-up anger and heartbreak hit Lou in a rush. Her eyes grew cold as she looked at the heartless bastard. She indicated to the two chairs in front of her desk.
"Please, take a load off."
The FBI agents sat down in the chairs.
Willis sat stiff-backed and serious-faced-the rock.
Merlot sat more casually in her chair with a leg crossed over her knee. She was the first one to get the ball rolling.
"We'll need to appraise the area where Beau was last seen, ASAP."
"Yeah, I guessed as much."
Willis and Sheriff Lou made eye contact again. It couldn't be helped.
Merlot looked from her partner to the sheriff, then back to her partner.
Willis broke eye contact for the second time. "Has the area been sealed off?"
"Of course," Lou snapped. "We're not hicks, you know."
His voice was different, thought Lou. There
was so much about him that had changed. She could plainly see he wasn't the man she'd fallen in love with. Her heart sank with that realization.
"We've scoured the area, along with as much of the woods as we could." She sighed, "Pointless really." She shrugged, "Can't see the woods for the trees."
"Do you think it possible Beau has faked this abduction?" Willis asked.
"Oh yeah," Lou nodded. "His friends are probably in on the little charade."
"So we don't take his disappearance seriously, then?" Merlot said.
"This isn't the first time Beau has gone missing. Two months back he did the same thing. When he did show up he claimed he'd been abducted by Bigfoot." She told them this knowing full well the agents already knew as much as she did. It was something to say to get her mind off Willis.
"Yeah, we know," Merlot agreed. "Kids!"
"Yeah, kids!" Lou sighed. She glanced at the heartless bastard. She remembered the time he and Duane had pulled the same prank, claiming that a harem of Bigfoot babes had abducted them and had forced them to do certain things of a sexual nature. Willis could have fun back then, but what about now? Deep down in her heart, Lou wanted to know.
Deputy Dwight knocked on the door and entered with a tray of coffee and doughnuts. He placed the tray on the desk.
"Annie's finest. You won't find better doughnuts anywhere." With that, Dwight left the office with a doughnut in his pudgy hand.
"Hey, Dwight, what have I told you?" Lou warned.
Dwight briskly walked away unable to answer with a mouth full of doughnut.
"If Beau Flucker doesn't show up soon we're going to have to take his disappearance seriously. It could be for real this time," Merlot insisted. She chuckled. "Flucker . . . I'd run away with a name like that."
Sure this could be for real, thought Lou, but her trusty gut was telling her that Beau's disappearance was just a hoax. Lou gave Merlot a thoughtful look. It was better than looking at Willis. She didn't trust herself.
"He'll show up and when he does he'll say Bigfoot took him." She shrugged her shoulders, "Or that aliens abducted him."
"You can be that sure?" Willis asked in his regulation, matter-of-fact voice.
"I'm one-hundred percent sure, Agent Johnson. This is just one of his many little hoaxes," Lou declared, giving him an icy stare.
"For now we tend to agree." Willis paused, looking thoughtful. "Does Duane still have that old cabin of his father's?"
Lou nodded yes. She frowned. She didn't like the way the conversation was going. Willis couldn't possibly think that Duane had kidnapped Beau.
"Lives there permanent now," Lou declared somewhat nervously.
"It's a perfect place to hide Beau."
Lou gave Willis a curious glance. What was he up to? Of course, he could be right in thinking that Duane was in on Beau's little joke. If there was one thing Duane liked it was a good prank, thought Lou. But nevertheless, she didn't think Duane was involved. This case seemed different somehow, especially now that the FBI was involved.
Merlot joined in on the conversation. "Your report states, there's a possibility Beau might have been attacked by a grizzly . . . but you haven't found any trace of an animal attack where he was last seen."
"That's correct. Mocking Bird did a thorough investigation of the area and found nothing to support that scenario."
"This Mocking Bird . . ." Merlot couldn't help grinning as she said his name. ". . . is the local crypto-zoologist? I take it he knows his business?"
"He's the best." Lou gave a furtive glance towards the man who had broken her heart. Why did they have to send him? Damn it! Her broken heart told her he was just as good looking as the day he left, he just needed to get out of those clothes, let the stubble grow a tad and loosen up a whole lot.
Get a grip on yourself, urged Lou. No, no, no, don't even think it. It's over. He broke your heart. You'd have fallen apart if Duane hadn't been there. Not like Willis Johnson, the heartless bastard. She more than ever felt like taking a swipe at him and knew if he stayed much longer in town, she'd do just that.
MERLOT FOUND HER GAZE wandering around the office to the board on the wall behind her partner's head. Pinned to the board were six color photographs. Three pairs of shots displayed a shower cubicle or bath completely fouled with clumps of fur. Two toilet rims displayed an uneaten doughnut. She grimaced at the crime scenes luridly on display, thinking, how could anyone eat on the pan?
Merlot was curious, "Uh . . . I'm curious about those photos."
Lou appeared relieved by the question. She blew out her cheeks as she looked at the crime scene photos on the board.
"They're evidence of a . . . serial case -the Phantom Bigfoot Bather Case. They're what you might call crime scene photos."
WILLIS TURNED SIDEWAYS to look at the photos. "Yuck . . . food on the toilet!"
He had a look of disgust on his face. And that's exactly how he felt-disgust at his leaving her without a word. He wondered when would be the right moment to broach the all-important subject-the real reason he was back in town-that damned letter. Who sent the letter and who was she thinking of marrying? Now was obviously not the time to ask.
"Precisely," Lou said. "Someone is entering Beaverites' homes . . ." She looked a little sheepish, ". . . which is kinda easy, as most don't lock up at night; and uses the facilities. There've been three such incidents so far. The perp leaves clumps of fur all over the place and remains of a doughnut . . . and a smell that's so bad . . . and when I say bad . . . I'm not joking. After every crime scene, we have to wash all our clothing in industrial-strength detergent and still it lingers; then shower using a strong solution of fresh lemon juice . . . but that doesn't really help . . . nothing does."
"Sounds like the sort of thing Duane would do," Willis said.
"Yeah, it sure does," Lou agreed.
"This Duane character is popping up like a red flag," Merlot commented. "Any proof it's him?"
"No proof and no witnesses," Lou replied with a sigh. "We've had the fur analyzed. It's not fur and it's not exactly human hair. It's been contaminated each time, but there are those who think they're Bigfoot hairs due to the large, muddy footprints found all about the place." She cleared her throat, "As for the smell . . . well it's not as if we can analyze that."
"No such thing as Bigfoot," Willis declared.
"Well, what we know so far is nothing-a big fat Bigfoot nothing." Lou paused for a moment then added, "We've searched Duane's cabin for anything to link him to the crime, but found nothing."
Willis shook his head. "Duane's smart for such a dumbass."
"How come no one's seen him do it?" Merlot had a fit of the giggles. ". . . Sorry . . . but this is just too much . . ." Merlot cleared her throat, ". . . What I mean is, why Phantom Bigfoot?"
"That's a good question, Agent Merlot," Lou replied seeming somewhat irritated at the question. "MB works for our local paper, The Busy Beaverite. He thought up the name . . . now it's stuck."
16
TO MOST PEOPLE, the only clear sign of the teenagers' camp at the Little Beaver clearing was the remnants of their campfire. But MB, with his keen, skilled eye, knew what else to look for. He noted the footprints left by the teenagers. Saw where they had pitched tent. Even knew where they had sat around the fire. With a chuckle, MB saw yellow crime scene tape, at the spot where Beau had gone to take a leak.
With the patience of someone who had spent a great deal of his time watching, listening and waiting for Bigfoot to show itself, MB was content to wait for the sheriff and the FBI agents to arrive at the crime scene.
He sat on his small camping stool, passing the time, listening to the sounds of the forest animals. He ate a couple of high fiber bars and drank strong black coffee from a thermos. MB was in his element as he identified the staccato calls of Bewick's wrens, blue jays and black-billed magpies.
In the far distance, MB recognized the booming bugle of elk, the roar of the bear and that strange sound which he could not put a nam
e to—weeeeeeoooooweeeeeoooo. This last animal call echoed around the vast forest like native drums.
MB was a man content to bide his time. There was an Old Indian legend that he adhered to-it said that it is best to be patient with time, to ignore the ticking clock, and not to be in such a hurry to reach the end of one's life. He savored the simple things, no matter how trivial, no matter how humble. It was what life was all about.
MB looked up at the sound of two approaching vehicles, followed by the sound of doors slamming shut. He heard the sheriff and the two FBI agents approaching through the woods from the parking area of Little Beaver. He caught glimpses of them as they passed through dapples of sunlight. Moments later they emerged from the trees.
Nothing much ever surprised him these days, but the sight of Willis Johnson in his city duds—totally inappropriate for trekking in the woods, took MB by surprise. He, like almost everyone else in town, knew damned well about the agents' arrival, but not their identities. He almost choked on his coffee, spilling some down his fatigues.
"Shit," he muttered quietly to himself, brushing the stain into a larger stain. The hot coffee forced MB to jump upright as if coming to attention. "Hi, Sheriff," he said with a smile.
Lou forced a smile but didn't speak.
Willis was also grim-faced.
The stunning female agent beamed a wide smile.
MB wondered if she was an idiot, smiling like that, for Old Indian legend tells us that woman who smiles all the time should be in the nut house.
MB surmised correctly that Lou was more than a tad unsettled by her old flame suddenly showing up, unannounced, just like his departure. Things could get real interesting, he mused. Oh yeah, real interesting was an understatement to end all understatements.
The look on Lou's face said it all-she still had the hots for Willis, despite what she said to anyone who cared to listen. MB recalled Lou telling him-after she'd had a few too many tequilas at Abe's, that if Willis came back into her life, she'd first tell him what she thought of him for ditching her, then she'd either take her gun and blow his balls off or she'd cuff him to the bed and fuck him senseless. MB concluded that Sheriff Lou was a contradiction in terms.
