Evil Heights, Book III: Lost and Found

by Michael Swanson

  Ted pushed his chair back and stood up. “And Lee, about all the socks and underwear and stuff being all tied up in knots—” He shook his head. “I don't know. I'm not coming out and blaming anyone. All I can say is, we do have somebody in this house that has a history of pulling pranks on people."

  Lee's face turned red. If his mouth weren't so full of pancake he'd have surely gotten grounded for what he wanted to say.

  Ted held up his hands again. “Lee, Lee I'm not blaming you. Calm down, son. Did I come right out and blame you?"

  Lee had to shake his head.

  Maggie quietly inserted, “Well, we know it wasn't Patty. And we know it wasn't me or you."

  Lee's glance was acrid.

  "I know you didn't do it, son.” Ted tried to calm things down before Lee said or did something he'd have to be punished for. “I know that's not your kind of trick. Besides, it's like I told your mother yesterday, I've never seen anything like those knots. Shipping over to Korea a sailor on the transport taught me to tie a monkey's fist so tight it could scream, but I'm telling you—” He shook his head. “I don't know. You've got me there. I've never seen anything like those knots. It's crazy. Like something you'd expect to find in a lunatic asylum. I mean, really Maggie, who'd do such a thing?"

  Maggie didn't offer a reply.

  It was really strange. Friday morning, when everyone started to get dressed they found an unexplainable surprise waiting in their dresser drawers. All the underwear and socks, anything white and cottony, was balled up into tight, almost seamless knots. First thing, Maggie had blamed Lee outright, even though all his underwear and socks were knotted just as tightly as everyone else's. An it only added fuel to her fire that she had broken two fingernails wrestling with the confounding knots throughout most of yesterday afternoon.

  Ted got up and walked over to the wall, running a finger across the furrow in the paneling below the Indian's leg. He looked back over at the table not making eye contact with anyone. “This ... well, I don't know."

  "Well, I can guarantee you it wasn't there before Thursday night,” Maggie said. I've washed those walls twice since we moved in."

  "Lee didn't do it,” Patty protested. “It was the Indian.” She nodded at Lee. “Right, Lee. You said you saw him chop it with his tomahawk. He did. Lee saw him!"

  For a long time there was silence.

  Patty, looking around from face to face finally seized upon her dad. “Daddy,” she quaked. “Like Lee said, I want to go away. I want to go back to our old house. I don't like it here. There's haunts."

  Maggie spoke up, ignoring Patty. “Ted, are you going to take off work Tuesday to go to Mrs. Ballard's funeral?"

  Ted shook his head. “If she were a relative I could get the day off with pay, but I'm not going to miss an entire day's wages for someone I didn't really even know."

  "She was our neighbor,” Maggie said, coolly.

  "You go then,” Ted patted her on the shoulder. “I remember how much you've said you liked her here recently."

  "It's our Christian duty,” she shot back. “It'd be rude to not go now that we have a place in the community."

  Place in the community? Ran through Lee's mind. What place in the community?

  "Then take the kids with you,” Ted came back.

  Patty's eyes got wide. She hadn't spoken very much since Thursday night. Mostly, except for the few outbursts this morning she had only shook her head or nodded saying only “uh-huh,” or “uh-uh” when asked to confirm parts of Lee's story. “I'm not gonna go!” she pealed out.

  "You don't have to baby, if you really don't want to,” Maggie replied, soothingly. “Don't you worry about it. We can fret about it some other time."

  Fret. The word rang out in Lee's mind. Lee knew what that meant. Patty would be going and so would he.

  Ted walked over to the mirror by the door and pulled out his comb, giving his hair a few strokes. “So what's on the agenda for today?"

  "I'm going to Art's mom's store to help out,” Lee mumbled.

  "Great!” His dad was overly eager in his reply. “Got yourself another job, huh?"

  "Sort of,” Lee pushed his food around with his fork. The pancakes didn't taste nearly as good now as when he had first sat down.

  His dad kept up his combing, one hand passing quickly over the other, his biceps bulging in the mirror. “I'm going to have to go into work for a few hours. You want me to drop you on my way?"

  Lee tried another bite, but it tasted like dry pillow stuffing. “Naw. I want to ride my bike."

  "You be careful out on that highway,” Maggie said, reproachfully. “People drive like maniacs out there. When I was going to Millie's on Thursday to get my hair done, I bet this guy who passed me was doing ninety-five."

  Lee and his dad made eye contact, and even in his dour mood, Lee couldn't help but trade a smile. He and his dad both knew Maggie had never driven faster that thirty-five in her whole life, and that was probably going down hill. When she got in a car she became rigid, sitting bolt upright, with one hand placed at ten o'clock and the other at two, just like they showed the students in Driver's Ed. She was one of those drivers that hold on when they drive, squeezing the wheel with such a white-knuckled death grip, she could have left fingernail marks in solid steel.

  "What about you, Squirt?” Ted had picked this up from Lee and taken to calling Patty this recently, even though Maggie disapproved. “Gonna watch some Saturday cartoons?"

  Patty shook her head quite expressly.

  Maggie scooted out her chair and began gathering up plates. “On the way back from the doctor's I bought her some books yesterday at Brown's Five and Dime. We're going to do some reading, aren't we, baby?"

  Patty nodded.

  Lee got up and carried his plate into the kitchen, scraped off the remaining pancakes and put the dish and silverware in the sink. He wasn't going to go over to Art's mom's store until later in the afternoon. He wandered out into the backyard and stood out in the sun inspecting the hole he'd started to dig yesterday while Patty and Maggie were at the Doctor's. He'd decided to make a little pond in the back yard for Flapjack. He was going to dig out a rectangle about five feet by ten feet and maybe a foot or two deep, then line it with plastic sheeting so the water would hold. Yesterday he'd marked it off with string and sticks and managed to get the grass dug out. He couldn't put his finger on it, but he felt better when he was doing something, and for some reason he felt compelled to dig.

  "Hey, Flapjack!” Lee called out to the duck stalking around in the freshly exposed earth looking for worms. “Find anything good to eat there, boy?"

  As if on cue, Flapjack's head darted down to the earth, and with a little rooting around with his beak, he pulled out a fat, white grub, gobbling it greedily.

  "Good boy,” said Lee. “Too bad I can't train you to help me dig your pond."

  He ambled over and sat down in the cool grass under the Mimosa tree and just looked around. It was still and quiet out here sitting in the grass. Overhead some of the lighter branches, way high up in the trees were wafting about listlessly, proving at least somewhere there was a breeze. The grass around him was getting high, its brown tips, scraggly from the last mowing, feeling scratchy on the skin exposed between his shorts and socks. He'd have to cut it soon. But not today. He thought about maybe riding over to Ronnie's, but that would make it even farther to get to Art's later. For now it just felt good to sit and watch Flapjack and try not to think about everything he was thinking about.

  CHAPTER SIX: WRENNIE'S DRESS SHOP

  Out on the main highway, Lee kept as far to the right as he could and not risk running off onto the shoulder. He peddled, keeping up speed as the cars whizzed past. He kept his eyes on the blacktop, noticing every rear bumper that cut back in front of him. The cars would seem close for a moment, then pull ahead, only to be followed by another.

  A hillbilly in an abused pick up truck hollered at him out of the passenger side window as he passed by way too clo
se. “Git yer damn ass out of the damn road!"

  The oily stink from the smoke billowing out of the tail pipe was enough to make Lee wince. As the truck pulled ahead, on the mashed in tailgate was a bumper sticker with a Rebel flag on each corner and the words: “The South Shall Rise Again!” in bold red, white, and blue letters.

  Lee was all too used to this, and kept on riding, actually enjoying the wind in his hair and all the danger and excitement of the highway.

  Little's icehouse was already a couple of miles behind. Lee had stopped for a while to enjoy one of those big sixteen ounce RC Cola's. Maggie refused to buy them, saying a six and a half ounce Coke was more than enough for anybody. But Lee loved them. To him, bigger was better. He'd stood around, leaning against the wall like a redneck, watching the steady stream of people come and go. From Cadillacs to old, beat up farm trucks, it seemed everyone stopped for something at Little's. The guy was always laughing and carrying on, never shutting up when someone was in earshot. Little was likeable, like some kind of a street character out of an old slapstick comedy movie. But, Lee had to admit, he hadn't liked the look in Little's eyes when he'd gone up to pay for his RC and Little had leaned over on the counter and asked with a definite leer in his eyes, “Where's that cutie little girlfriend of yours?"

  Traffic was heavy on both sides of the highway since it was Saturday afternoon, and people were coming into town to get to the stores before everything closed for the weekend at five. Others, who'd driven in early, were hurrying home, their cars filled with kids and groceries.

  Lee felt his adrenaline rise as he approached the bridge near the upper end of Big Creek, which fed into Broaddus Marsh. The old cement and steel frame bridge was narrow and really didn't have any shoulder, just a strip about a foot wide next to the railing.

  The concrete posts flew past as he put everything he had into getting across as fast as possible. When the metal plaque, which read “Work Projects Administration 1935,” was left behind, he knew he was home free.

  At the speed he was going it wasn't very long before he arrived at the intersection with Payton's Esso station where Carl worked. Carl was out front pumping gas, as always with a cigarette hanging from his mouth. Lee raised his fingers off the right handlebar grip as a kind of wave as he passed by, and Carl nodded in return.

  Lee could see the dress shop way up on the left. It was a one-story red brick building with fake, white marble columns in front of the entry doors, at the corners, and to each side by each side of the two big plate glass display windows.

  Looking back periodically over his left shoulder, he kept tabs on the traffic coming up from behind. Since he was well into town, traffic had slowed down considerably, and Lee could keep pace with the cars moving well below the posted twenty mile-an-hour limit. He saw his opportunity open up with an approaching gap in the oncoming traffic. With a quick, last look behind, he leaned left and changed lanes crossing over to the shoulder on the left side of the road.

  There were three cars parked in front besides Art's mom's pink Cadillac.

  Skidding his rear tire in the pea gravel of the parking lot around the back, Lee pulled up at the warehouse door. There was a sign with a red button that read: “Deliveries Only.” Lee pressed it. A couple of minutes later, the door opened, and Art's silly face appeared.

  "Hey, Lee!"

  "How ya’ doin'?” Lee replied.

  Art swung the door open wide so Lee could bring his bike in with him.

  "Not so bad. Hot out there today, ain't it?” Art said.

  Lee stepped inside. “Hotter'n the stinger on a yellow jacket's butt."

  Art grinned, his ears spreading out wide. “Hotter'n a whore house in a volcano."

  Inside it was a relief. This was one of the few buildings in Lenoir that had real air conditioning. Others advertised: “Refrigerated Air,” or “Come on in, it's cool inside.” But like the movie theatre, the city hall and combination police station and the mortuary, Wrennie's Dress Shop had the real thing. The chill felt a little unnatural, but it also felt real good.

  Lee put his bike safely up against the wall near the water cooler. “So what do we have do?"

  The back room of the building was a mess. Smashed cardboard dress boxes, tissue wrapping, string, and cloth shards were strewn all over the floor. The lone trashcan near the back door was stuffed to overflowing.

  Art kicked at the mess. “Mom's been super busy. There's a big Fourth of July dance coming up, and it seems like more stupid girls are getting married now than at the beginning of the month. She wants me to clean all this up today."

  Lee looked around. If they both worked together, it shouldn't take more than a half hour, and here Art had supposedly already been at it all morning.

  "Well, let's get started,” Lee said.

  Art didn't seem to be in any particular hurry to get to work. He slumped up against the wall. “You know, I wasn't sure you were still coming."

  Lee was surprised. “Why's that?"

  "I talked to Ronnie yesterday. He said he hadn't seen you in a while. Did y'all have a fight or something?"

  Lee shook his head. “Not that I know of. I called his house yesterday, and when his mom told me he was out running around, I asked her to tell him to give me a call. But I didn't hear back from him."

  As always, Art was flighty and nervous, never keeping still. “I tried calling you, too, yesterday.” He turned, now leaning with his back against the wall, and began pushing off with his fingers from behind his back. “Your phone was making some kind of weird squeak."

  "A squeak?” Lee interjected.

  "Yeah,” Art came back. “Like this.” He let loose with a high-pitched squeal.

  "You're kidding?"

  Art ceased his wall push offs and shook his head. “Nope.” He squealed again, louder this time. “Just like that."

  Lee grimaced. “We've been having some weird electrical problems. I guess I'll have to tell my dad about the phone."

  For a moment, Lee thought about launching into the whole story of what had been going on, but quickly discarded the idea. Who knows what kind of bizarre twist Art would put on the truth, and he knew anything he told Art to keep to himself he might just as well put up on a billboard. And for damn sure, he wasn't going to tell Art anything about his river tubing date tomorrow with Phoebe.

  Lee looked around at the mess. “Where'd all this crap come from?"

  "Mom,” Art came back. “All week long when she unpacks, she just throws the stuff. She doesn't give a damn because she doesn't have to clean it up. She dumps it all on me."

  "Well, I don't think it'll take us all too long,” Lee appraised. “It's just a bunch of paper and string and stuff. Is this all we got to do?"

  "Yeah. But it can wait a minute or two.” Art definitely didn't seem to be in much of a hurry. “First let me take you out front and show you to my mom. I'd already told her I'd invited you over to help out this afternoon."

  "I know your mom,” Lee gave Art a suspicious sideways glance. “Why would you need to show me to her?"

  "She's gotten funny about any guys coming into the shop,” Art explained. “Come on it'll only take a minute."

  Art led the way, shuffling through the debris to the door that lead into the shop proper. Art stopped abruptly and turned back and looked Lee up and down before he opened the door.

  "Yeah, I guess you look okay. A little sweaty, but that can't be helped."

  Lee noticed Art was wearing black slacks and a pressed, white shirt, almost the same kind of clothes Lee wore when they went to church. He looked down at his short-sleeved shirt and shorts, at least glad that he'd worn his new Keds instead of his old tennis shoes. They smelled.

  Art opened the door, and Lee followed him through.

  This was his first time he'd been invited to go into the inside of the store. The last time he'd helped Art he had stayed in the warehouse all day. Thankfully, Maggie had never dragged him in here, as she never shopped at Wrennie's. There wasn't a thing
in here that didn't cost twice what it would at Patterson's.

  The store was strangely alien and yet beautiful. The whole place was floored with a rose blush carpet, and the walls were champagne white, adorned with fake flowery garlands, which draped down from the ceiling all along the walls. In the center was a white, marble fountain. Water was bubbling out of a fish's mouth at the top and cascading down from a series of bowls to a little pool with live gold fish swimming around in the bottom.

  Everywhere were tiered and circular racks with hangers filled with dresses, blouses, and skirts of all types of fabrics, colors, and styles. Near the front door a table was set up with a linen tablecloth. It was covered with different types of candies and pastries in little, white paper cups. A two-tiered vanilla cake dominated the center. There was only one slice missing from the top tier, and a pile of crumbs strewn about in the vacant space.

  The store was busy. There were two older women over at a rack along the back wall, with a sign above, which read: “Clearance.” A mother and her two daughters were in the Children's section. The pudgy daughter had a paper plate in one hand with part of the missing piece of cake. A group of four high school girls in the Juniors and Swimwear section were giggling and letting loose with occasional squeals of surprise as though someone was hiding in the racks between the dresses and sticking them randomly with pins.

  In agony, Lee realized they would have to cross through the no man's land of the Lingerie section to get to the front counter where Art's mom was currently helping a woman with her purchase.

  Lee never felt as awkward as when he had to walk through an area filled with women's underwear. He felt shame-faced, as though he was doing something wrong. No matter what he did, and where ever he tried to avert his eyes, he couldn't help seeing the bras, panties and nameless devices with hooks, snaps, and straps which clung to the half-torsos and clear, plastic figures poised on top of the stands and racks.

  To make it even worse, all the women ceased their activities and stared when the two boys stepped into the room.

  Boldly, with Lee following behind sheepishly, Art led the way.