Always a Kicker

by Jeff Zwagerman

  “You’re going to be disappointed.”

  “Why would that be?”

  “Do I look like I’ve got money? Have you even looked at what I’m driving?”

  “You better cough up something or we’ll take it out of your hide. Right boys?”

  The other three responded affirmatively on command. Zander had time to sum up his situation. The three were followers. If he could take out the talker, he would be in control. The problem was going to be getting to either of his boots before he got beaned with the tire iron. It certainly seemed like a huge quandary.

  Just as Zander felt he was running out of time, he heard a horn honking coming down the exit ramp toward them.

  The four kept their eyes on Zander. That was just a bit unnerving for Zander. He had thought the horn would be a distraction. It certainly distracted him.

  The car was actually an old pickup and it wasn’t slowing down for the stop sign. It blew right by and made the right turn on two wheels. The damn thing actually accelerated as it approached.

  Without warning, it slammed into the guy with his back to the road. He was hit directly on the ass and it sent him flying right into the back of the station wagon. His head hit the top of the open tailgate. He was out cold on impact. Zander wondered if he would have a broken back.

  All the action had finally taken the focus off Zander. Unfortunately for Zander, he had lost focus as well.

  The driver’s door flew open and there was Fats. Zander couldn’t believe it. Fats reached into the bed of his truck and came out with some kind of long straight stick. He twirled it over his head with his fingertips as he quickly moved in front of Zander. The stick was actually an old pool cue, Zander noted.

  Fats twirled the cue once more and then came down with the barrel end right on the talker’s hand.

  Zander could hear a bone or two breaking in his hand. He dropped the tire iron instantly and looked at Fats.

  “You broke my fucking….”

  Before he could get out “hand”, Fats hit him again along side of his head. The talker dropped like an Elk.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Zander could see the guy on his right reach up behind his back. Zander woke up. He couldn’t believe he had misread these guys so badly. It shook him up. The guy was going for a gun in his waistband.

  In one fluid movement, Zander reached into his boot and pulled out the stun gun. He moved seamlessly and buried it the gunman’s neck, pushing the button at the same time.

  The gunman fell over backwards and rolled right down the ditch. Zander followed him trying to keep his balance and still pump some voltage into his neck. He did a fairly good job for being on the run.

  When he was sure the guy wasn’t going to be moving for a while, Zander stood up and looked over at Fats. He was twirling the cue again. The last guy was standing with his hands in the air. He appeared to have lost his interest in the looting.

  Zander pulled the gunman up the bank by his shirt and let him drop in the gravel next to the station wagon. His newfound friend was busy trying to make a point with the last guy.

  “If you want to get out of this while you are still living, I would suggest you load up your buddies and get them some medical help,” Fats said in a low voice.

  The guy didn’t say a word. He loaded all three into the back of the wagon and ran around to the driver’s door. He got in and closed the door. Fats walked over and hit the closed window with the end of the cue, shattering the glass all over the front seat. The guy was a mess, glass shards all over him. He was shaking now and looked like he was ready to piss in his pants.

  “I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that if the law gets involved it wouldn’t go well for you. You might want to tell folks you had a roll over while you were chasing some jackrabbits and that’s how everyone got hurt. Any other story won’t work out very well for you. Don’t make us come back and find you,” Fats explained and then patted the guy on the shoulder.

  The guy nodded his head and threw the gear shifter into drive and did a “u” turn right there in the middle of the road. He went across the bridge heading south and then took the entrance to I-76 east. Zander wondered where he was going but after thinking more about it, he found he didn’t really care.

  “Fats, what the hell?”

  “Don’t you just hate violence?” Fats asked him right back.

  “I mean, how did you get here? How did you know I was in trouble?”

  “I saw your van and I saw the station wagon in front of it.”

  “But why were you here in the first place?”

  “Well, I was stalking you, man.”

  Zander looked puzzled so Fats took him over to the back of his pickup and pulled down the tailgate and they both sat there looking out at I-76 East.

  “I overheard these guys talking about you in the bar. They had loosened the valve core on your right front tire and then jacked your back door and stole your tire iron. Maybe that’s a good lesson for you. Don’t leave your keys in your vehicle even in a small town.

  They were taking bets on how long it would take before the tire would go flat. I don’t think they were thinking it would take as long as it did,” Fats explained patiently.

  Zander was suddenly sorry he had thought Jasper had lost his tire iron.

  “So this was a set up? Why?”

  “They wanted to roll you, man. These guys are bad news but what makes it worse, they’re really stupid. They call themselves the interstate pirates.”

  “What about law enforcement?”

  “Haven’t been able to find anyone to identify them. Last year somebody found an abandoned car just east of Paxton. It belonged to a young couple from one of the coasts but they were never found. I think they killed them and got rid of the bodies somewhere in the sand hills. Mostly they scare the folks so bad, they just leave and never come back. So far they haven’t targeted any of the locals. That’s probably why they haven’t been caught,” Fats said.

  “But you suspected something.”

  “You hear a lot of things in a bar. You know that,” Fats said smiling.

  “Well I owe you big time.”

  “Probably sooner than you would like, I think.”

  “Why?”

  “I got fired.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah,” Fats said sheepishly, “I told the manager I had to go help you. She told me it wasn’t my business. So I asked her if she was in on the take.”

  “That would do it,” Zander said shaking his head.

  “Worked just fine. I didn’t have to give my two weeks. I suppose I better not use her as a reference though.”

  “What about your stuff?” Zander asked.

  “It’s all in the truck. I travel light. I went back to my shack and threw everything in here,” He pointed to the pickup, “The station wagon was easy to follow. I pulled off just before the exit and watched you so I could get a handle on what my plan of attack would be. Like I said, they’re pretty stupid. Who does this kind of thing in broad daylight?”

  “We might want to make tracks in case these guys are even dumber than we think. Do you have a tire iron that fits my wheel?”

  “I’ve got a four-way in the back here.”

  Fats jacked up the van with the tire iron from the wagon the guys had left. Zander went back into the ditch and picked up the .45 caliber pistol the gunman had dropped. Zander didn’t like guns and he decided to throw this one into Lake Dillon when he had a chance.

  After the two put the tire into the back of the van, Zander decided he would have to remember to tighten the valve core and fill it with air at his next gas stop. He put the spare on and tightened the lug nuts and let the jack down. Everything looked good. After all the gear was stowed, Zander grabbed Fat’s hand and shook it roughly.

  “You are a life saver, Fats. I mean that literally. I think they meant to kill me.”

  “Have no doubts,” Fats said matter-of-factly.

  “Just one more question,” Za
nder said, “How come you have a pool cue in the back of your truck?”

  “Aw it’s just an old one. I’ve got my good one in its case in the cab.”

  Zander stared at him.

  “Why do you think they call me Fats? Not because of my body build. Did you ever see anyone skinnier than me?”

  “So why the name Fats?”

  “Minnesota Fats, man! Pool shark, they call me. I’m pretty good with a stick,” Fats said.

  “I know. I’m a pretty good witness,” Zander laughed, “Now lets get to Frisco and get you a job.”

  They got into their vehicles and headed back to the freeway entrance. Zander pushed his cassette into the player and Lightfoot was singing about “Rainy Day People”. That song hit him right between the eyes. He had just met a rainy day person by the name of Fats. Zander didn’t have many close friends and those he did have were all much older than he was. Of course he had some acquaintances that were his beer buddies but he didn’t have any close personal friends either men or woman. He didn’t really want or need to get that close to anyone for any length of time. He hadn’t ever really thought much about it before this very moment. Now he wondered why.

  Somewhere deep down Zander knew exactly what the reason was but he wasn’t going there now or ever, if he could avoid it.

  Zander remembered what he had thought about as he was leaving Ole’s.

  “Old hippies, who needed them?”

  Apparently Zander did.

  11

  Frisco, Colorado--Tuesday 5:00 p.m., August 27,1985

  The two blew into Frisco about an hour later than Zander had originally planned. After he explained things to Jo, she hired Fats on the spot.

  “When can you start?” Jo asked Fats.

  “Right now if you want. But I got to find a place to stay,” Fats said.

  “I’ve got just the guy to find you your place,” Jo said and she sent Fats down the street to Bert’s storefront.

  “Come back just as soon as you’re settled in and you’ll be on the clock. Oh damn it; you’re on the clock now. Just hurry please. I need you badly,” Jo said and waved him out the bar.

  “Nice to be needed.” Fats tipped his Ole’s Big Game Bar baseball hat to Jo and went out the swinging doors.

  “I can get started now,” Zander said as he walked around to the back of the bar.

  Jo stopped him.

  “No, I promised you to The Bridge as soon as you got here. They are going nuts up there with all these women. They need someone who can make all those fruity drinks.”

  “But what about you?”

  “You’ve seen Fats bartend. Is he any good?”

  “Good as they get,” Zander assured her.

  “Then I’ll be fine. Besides, I want to break him in when you’re not here,’” Jo smiled.

  “He doesn’t have a chance,” Zander smiled back, “you know I’m going to be jealous.”

  “Counting on it,” Jo said, “Oh and before I forget, that woman called again. She sounds desperate. You need to call her back.”

  “Can I use the office phone?”

  “Sure and then get up to Breckenridge,” Jo said and went over to wait on a thirsty patron.

  Zander went into the office and closed the door. He fished the number from his pocket. He remembered jotting it down when he was in Paxton and it surprised him just a little that he still had it. He looked at it again and felt that same sense of dread he had before.

  “Screw it,” he said out loud and dialed the number.

  The phone rang six times and he was about to hang up when a female voice answered, clearly out of breath.

  “Hello.”

  “Hi. I’m returning a call. Did someone there call for Sander Van Zee?”

  “Zander! Oh I’m so sorry, I rushed right in from the garden. That’s why I’m out of breath,” she said trying hard to get control of her breathing.

  “I suppose it would be helpful if I knew whom I was talking to.”

  But Zander already knew who it was on the other end of the line. It was her voice but yet not her voice. It had the same pitch and tonal quality but just a shade darker.

  “It’s Sheila,” and that was all she said.

  Zander knew this wouldn’t be good. He didn’t know what she wanted but he was sure he didn’t want any part of it.

  “It’s been a long time, Sheila. You were just a kid when I left. How can I help you?” Zander said casually, trying to make an attempt at some lighter conversation.

  “She’s alive, Zander.”

  There it was. Three words that in the back of his mind he always knew existed. Three words he had never wanted to face on his own. Three words he always knew would piss him off because he would finally have to admit that Sara Jane had somehow deceived him. Now he would have no choice but to find out why.

  “How could you possibly know that?”

  “I always knew,” Sheila sighed, “I think you probably always knew as well.”

  “Did she ever tell you anything?”

  “No. She was acting strangely the week before she disappeared. The really weird thing was that she didn’t take any of her stuff except for that Rubber Soul album you gave her. She told me once that it was her favorite gift of all time.”

  “That’s not much proof, Sheila.”

  “Maybe, but sometimes you just get a feeling about something. So I hired this guy to look into it.”

  Zander reached for his billfold and pulled out a card.

  “Fred Doyle?”

  “Yes. How did you know? He wasn’t supposed to involve anyone,” she sounded upset.

  “He contacted me recently but he never told me who was paying him. He said his employer wanted let me know what was going on.”

  “He lied. I didn’t want you involved,” she said and paused, “Well now you know. He contacted me a week ago and told me he found some information that I might be interested in having. He said he needed more money. He was going to fly into Sioux City and I was to meet him at the airport with the final payment and he would hand over his report.”

  “So what did he tell you?”

  “He never showed. I checked his flight and he never boarded the plane. In fact, they said he never checked in.”

  “That sounds like a problem. Has he tried to contact you since then?”

  “No I checked with the National Car Rental people at the airport. He used my credit card to rent a car there. They told me the car was turned in overnight two days before he was to fly out.”

  “This doesn’t add up,” Zander said more to himself.

  “Zander, I don’t know who else to turn to. Can you help me?”

  “What about your parents?” Zander asked.

  “They’re both gone. I waited to do this until I knew they wouldn’t be hurt. I got the number of the bar from your father. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “It’s too bad your sister didn’t have your sensibility.”

  “I have some money. So I can pay you whatever you need. I married a farmer and we’ve got lots of land.”

  “I can’t take money from you. This is something I have to do for myself. If I have any unexpected expenses, you could help with those.” Zander realized he was agreeing to help Sheila.

  “Anything you need, Zander, just find her.”

  “This might take some time. You may have to be patient. Is there anything else you can tell me? Did Doyle share anything?” Zander asked.

  “He mentioned the I-25 corridor a number of times. I don’t know what that means.”

  “I-25 basically flows the length of the state north to south. I think most folks refer to the corridor as being from Ft. Collins to Pueblo.”

  “That’s probably a lot of territory, isn’t it?” she asked.

  “It is, but it’s a start. I’ll throw out some feelers to some of my bartender friends. It’s a long shot but it’s worth a look.”

  “Zander, I want you to be careful. I’m afraid of what this Fred Doyle thing mig
ht mean.”

  “Sheila, if she is alive, you need to be prepared to accept the fact that she may not be the same person you once knew. Who knows what she’s become over the years or what company she might be keeping.”

  “I’ve thought of that,” Sheila said quietly, “But I want to know. How do we proceed?”

  “I’ll contact you when I get some information. Can I call you at this number?” he asked.

  “Yes. If I’m not here, I’ll make sure the answering machine is on. You can leave a message unless it is something we need to talk about right away, then leave me a number to call and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

  “That’s a good plan. I’m a little hard to contact.”

  Sheila laughed a little.

  “How well I know,” a pause, “Zander, thank you so much. This is very important to me.”

  “And you’ve made it very important for me as well.”

  They hung up without any further fanfare. Zander remained in the office just staring at the walls without focusing on anything. With everything crumbling around him, the walls were about the only things left standing.

  12

  Frisco, Colorado-Tuesday 5:30 p.m., August 27,1985

  Zander sat staring at the four walls of the small office for what seemed like an eternity. He now needed to find Sara Jane. How that was to happen, he had no idea. He didn’t even know if he would recognize her if he did stumble across some leads on her whereabouts.

  He shouldn’t have been surprised. In the back of his head, he always knew there would be day of reckoning. It had been easier just not thinking about it but that damn black Mustang had always been riding with him.

  Time ticks by slowly when one is lost within his thoughts. He had no idea how long he had been sitting in the office. He wasn’t even sure what day it was. It all became much clearer when Jo opened the office door.

  “Zander! You’ve been in here for fifteen minutes. You’re going to be late. I promised to have you in Breck for your shift.”

  Zander just stared at her. Jo saw immediately something was wrong. His eyes told the story.