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.
MB absorbed the sights and sounds of the forest. He shared a couple of high fiber bars and some coffee with Duane. He was in his element as he identified the staccato calls of Bewick’s wrens, blue jays and black-billed magpies.
In the distance, MB recognized the bugle call of elk, the roar of the bear and that strange sound which he could not put a name to.
“Weee … wooo … weeee … woooo … weeeee … wooooo.”
This last animal call echoed around the vast forest like native drums. They seemed to be all around. One thing for sure, it was not Bigfoot.
MB gave Duane a peculiar frown, “You know what those sounds are, don’t you, dumbass?”
“I might and there again, I might not,” Duane said with a cheeky grin.
“What kind of answer is that? Sometimes I wonder about you, Duane-o.” MB gave his friend a withering look only to burst out laughing at his insane smile. MB sipped his coffee. 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, a handbrake being angrily yanked, followed by doors slamming shut. He heard the sheriff and the two FBI agents approaching through the woods from the parking area. Caught glimpses of them as they passed through dapples of sunlight and brushed aside branches of trees. Moments later they emerged from the trees.
Being around Duane a lot, nothing much ever surprised him these days, but the sight of Virgil Tuckerwood 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 and had been expecting them to show up at Little Beaver. But he didn’t know their identities. He shook his head feeling a tad miffed Duane hadn’t told him that Virgil Tuckerwood was one of the Feds. Of course in fairness to Duane maybe he didn’t know Virgil was in town but MB had a hunch Duane knew and wanted it to be surprise.
In fact the sight of Virgil so surprised MB he almost choked on his coffee, spilling some down his fatigues. Hot coffee! Very hot! Ouch!
“Shit,” he muttered quietly to himself, brushing the stain into a larger stain. The steaming coffee forced MB to jump upright as if coming to attention.
“Uh … hi, Sheriff,” he said with a pained smile. He turned to look at Duane and saw thin air where moments before Duane had been lounging on the grass. Phantom Bigfoot had vanished. He looked all around for Duane but could not spot him. Where’d the dumbass go? Probably gone to take a leak — as he recalled, Duane was not known for holding his coffee for long.
Lou forced a smirk. “I was thinking about giving you a buzz to get here and here you are.”
MB smiled easily. “I thought I might be needed.” He added, “Duane’s here but he wandered off. He’s probably gone to take a leak.”
“We saw the hog,” Lou said, glancing into the woods looking for Duane.
Virgil looked serious-faced at MB. He was all business and gave the woods a quick glance.
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 man or woman who smiles all the time should be in the nut house. He thought of Duane and of how he liked to smile a lot. MB was reminded of another Old Indian Legend — man who smiles a lot is one happy dude.
MB surmised correctly that Lou was more than a tad unsettled by her old flame suddenly showing up, unannounced, just as sudden as his departure.
Things could get real interesting, he mused. Oh yeah, real interesting was an understatement to end all understatements. The day had improved immeasurably.
The look on Lou’s face said it all — she still had the hots for Virgil, 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 Earl’s, that if Virgil 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 do him senseless. MB concluded that Lou was a contradiction in terms and best not to mess with her.
The crypto-zoologist focused his full attention on Lou’s old flame. Virgil Tuckerwood didn’t look much older, but that was to be expected after only five years. The guy was still a well-chiseled figure of a man, but the dorky hair job didn’t help matters none. Enough!
MB decided to lay off manly descriptions, for Old Indian Legend tells us that man who dwells on such things is on the wrong team.
“Um … hi, Virgil. Long time no see.” MB smiled in his amiable way. Not that MB and Virgil had ever been tight.
“MB,” Virgil nodded, in a so-fucking-what attitude.
Well, that was to be expected, MB thought.
Merlot introduced herself, “And I’m Agent Merlot.” She gave MB a thorough once over. She giggled seductively. “Nice piece of Red … wood.”
And that was definitely not to be expected, MB thought.
Virgil flashed Merlot a warning look. “What have I said about the woodometer?”
“Uh … hi there, Agent Merlot.” MB looked from Virgil to Merlot and wondered why this gorgeous female was giggling and what she meant by the Redwood remark? And what the hell was a woodometer?
Merlot shook MB’s hand, “Just make it Merlot, okay?”
“Um … sure thing, Merlot.” MB beamed a wide smile thinking his luck was in. “Okay then … this way,” he gestured with a hand as he walked over to the spot where Beau had taken a leak.
He looked up into the crotch of the Big X and back to the agents and whistled the tune to The X-Files. He was dismayed to see no reaction. He couldn’t resist temptation.
“Come on guys … X marks the spot.” He pointed above.
Merlot snorted at her lack of recognition. “You got us both there, MB.”
“This is where Beau took a piss and that was the last place he was seen. No doubt he’ll show up and come up with that same lame excuse … Bigfoot snatched him, as if?” MB paused and shook his head. “Everyone with an ounce of sense knows Bigfoot don’t exist.”
“But, you’re a crypto-zoologist?” Merlot asked incredulously.
“That I am, but Old Indian Legend tells us that man who finds what he has always been looking for has no reason to go on.”
“But I thought you guys … you know … really believed in Bigfoot,” Merlot said, looking dumbfounded.
Sure, MB wanted to believe in Bigfoot. His job — not that he got paid or anything, depended on it, but so far he had nothing to prove the creature existed. Okay, he had plenty of photographs, most of which were displayed on Annie’s Diner walls, and a few good casts of Bigfoot’s big feet, but none of it was for real. He and Duane knew that.
MB sighed heavily and thought it time for another of his gems of wisdom to impress the FBI agent. “Old Indian Legend tells us that man who finds truth in all things is wise beyond his years.”
A puzzled look flittered over Merlot’s face. “That’s really deep. I kinda like your drift, MB.”
“Why shouldn’t you? Old Indian Legend tells us that it is a wise man indeed that admits he doesn’t know everything.”
Merlot’s expression lightened on hearing MB’s latest gem. “You seem to have one of those for every occasion, MB.”
MB studied the female agent’s openly smiling face and thought, here was someone worth knowing. She sure was hot even if she giggled too much. MB nodded seriously, but didn’t speak. That was enough chat for now as mister one-eye started to come to life.
Virgil and Lou stared at MB and Merlot with impatient looks on their fa
ces.
“Give it a rest with those Indian legends, MB. You wouldn’t know one end of an arrow from the other,” Virgil said with a knowing smirk.
MB gave Virgil a mock shock look and as he watched Virgil walk off towards the crime scene he gave his back the bird. “Fuck you too, Woody!” he mouthed.
Lou followed Virgil, a few paces behind looking miserable.
MB watched with shrewd eyes as Virgil ducked under the yellow tape, followed by Sheriff Lou. He could tell they were trying not to spark. Furtive glances flittered back and forth between them. He hoped Lou would hit it off with Virgil, and so left them some breathing space.
But Lou stood by the tree where Beau had taken a leak, looking more efficient than gooey-eyed. She gave Virgil a wide berth. Neither uttered a word. There was an uneasy silence between them that spoke volumes. She so wanted him to break the ice.
Lou sighed with relief when MB and Merlot joined them. Was she glad of MB’s company or what, for he acted like a buffer between her and Virgil? She watched Merlot slip on disposable gloves to survey the area around the tree and wrinkle her nose at the disgusting stench, even though the smell had by now dissipated to minimal strength. A typical city-slicker reaction.
Lou commented in a flat tone, “No sign of anything out of the ordinary, apart from that God-awful smell.” The smell reminded her of the Phantom Bigfoot crime scenes. So, did Duane really have something to do with this? And where was Duane, he should have finished peeing by now? Knowing Duane as she did, she figured some critter had caught his attention and he was having a chat with it, not that he could actually talk to the animals, as if? It was just one of his eccentricities. Like father like son.
“I’ve never smelled anything so bad … what made it?” Merlot asked with a grimace and a brief bout of coughing. She wiped her watery eyes and took extra care not to touch anything with her clothes.
“Well … It’s mostly deer musk mixed with Beau’s piss, extract of skunk and something I can’t quite put my finger on,” MB said with authority.
With eyes trained to look at crime scenes, Merlot scanned the ground by the base of the tree and pointed at snapped twigs. “Agent Tuckerwood, what do you think?”
Virgil grimaced and grunted as he thought. “I still believe the kid’s fooling around … but I could be wrong,” Virgil declared in his super efficient way.
Merlot remarked, sarcastically, “That’s a first.”
Virgil glared at his partner with clenched fists.
Lou furtively glanced at her old boyfriend and thought it wouldn’t be the first time you were wrong, Virgil Tuckerwood, you heartless bastard.
“Like I said, Beau’s done this before,” Lou said with an edge of hostility to her voice. She and Virgil made uneasy eye contact and didn’t care if their attraction was plain for MB and Merlot to see. The tension was almost unbearable.
Lou told herself to put aside her personal feelings and concentrate on the situation at hand. Was she wrong not to take Beau’s disappearance seriously? She was reminded of the tale of the boy who cried wolf. What if the wolf in Beau’s case was a grizzly or some sicko? No, she still didn’t think that was the case. He was fooling around and she was sure of it. She knew Beau. Knew what sort of kid he was. Knew he liked to have the sheriff’s department going out on wild goose chases looking for him, just like his old man.
“Yeah, but where is he now? That’s what I’d like to know,” Virgil said.
A serious look settled on Lou’s face, but she wasn’t thinking about Beau. A thought just occurred to her — was Virgil married? Divorced? Seeing someone in a serious relationship?
Duane had crossed Little Beaver River at the shallowest part using the stepping stone path and was now in the woods close by. Once concealed behind a tree, he chuckled, spying on the idiots at The Big X. He couldn’t wait any longer, cupped his hands to his mouth and hooted, “Wooooo … weeeee … wooooo … weeeee … waaaaaa.” His calls echoed all around the forest.
MB sniggered as Merlot jolted upright and looked wide-eyed at the surrounding impenetrable forest. He was pretty sure the strange animal sound they just heard was Duane-o.
“What the hell was that?” She hugged MB.
MB was momentarily taken aback as Merlot covertly winked at him. He gently pushed the agent away, looking awkward.
Sheriff Lou looked seriously unsettled by the howling as she released the strap on her holster and placed a trembling hand on her trusty Magnum .44.
“Wooooooooo … wooooooooo … woooooooo,” echoed all around.
MB smirked, knowing it must be Duane. So that’s what he wanted to do. MB watched with considerable amusement, as Lou and the FBI agents looked startled, scanning their surroundings with wide eyes. Many times he had sent his recordings of those sounds for analysis. He got nothing from the BFRO.
“It’s just dumbass Duane-o up to mischief,” he suggested, with the air of someone who knew what he was talking about.
“Are you sure that was human?” Merlot pondered out loud. Fear furrowed her brow. She grabbed MB’s arm and held tight.
MB stared into Merlot’s frightened eyes and smiled to placate her terror. “Nothing to worry about … he gets a kick out of making that weird noise when there’s someone to hear it, like you three.” MB chuckled.
“Have you actually seen him make that sound?” Merlot asked as she released MB’s arm.
“Good question … and I have to admit I haven’t caught him at it … but he has told me he likes to make those noises to spook hunters, and just for the sheer hell of it.”
“Yeah it has to be Duane,” Lou declared.
“I concur … he always was weird,” Virgil remarked.
In the not too distant distance that strange call could be heard again.
“Wooooo … weeeee … wooooo … weeeee … waaaaaa.”
“You positive Bigfoot doesn’t exist?” Merlot asked looking fearfully at her surroundings.
MB placed a hand on his heart, “I’m as certain as a chief can be.”
“Quit that chief shit,” Virgil warned.
“No I won’t …” MB poked his tongue at Virgil.
“Give it a rest, you two.” With that, Sheriff Lou left the crime scene and trudged back to the picnic area.
MB blew a kiss at Virgil and grinned.
Virgil ignored MB and raced after Lou. He grabbed her by the arm.
MB peered around the X tree at Lou and the Fed and smiled. This could get interesting, he mused, as she whirled around and stabbed Virgil with a hard glare.
“Let go,” Lou said, pulling herself free of his hold.
Virgil stammered, “I … I … need to ask you about the ….” He stopped in mid sentence. “…. Never mind. We need to speak with Beau’s parents. They still live on Mill Road?”
Lou nodded her head yes.
From his hiding place behind a tree, Duane watched them leave, including MB. Duane was disappointed. He’d picked up all the animosity between Lou and Virgil loud and clear. How was he going to get those two lovebirds together?
Chapter 22
The Feds Meet the Spaceman
ON HIS RETURN to the old family homestead, Duane remembered he had a certain chore to do, though it wasn’t really a chore, because he took pleasure in doing it and if he didn’t do it soon it would lose its potency.
With that thought in mind he quickly got out of his Bigfoot duds and went out back of the cabin. The chore in question was to siphon the thick yellow liquid from a fermentation vessel into a plastic water bottle. There were three fermenting vats in all. Next step was to blend the liquid with water and shake thoroughly. He repeated this process, filling several bottles.
He faltered as he shook the last bottle and grinned. His connection with Virgil got stronger, so much so, he had to sit down and let the images infuse his mind.
“Virgil, you’re a freakin’ dumbass and you think I’m a dumbass. You don’t wanna visit the Brugers. What a dumb idea Virgil,” he said to him
self with a chuckle.
On their return to Big Beaver, Agents Tuckerwood and Merlot parked their shiny black sedan outside the Bruger residence on Mill Road. The house was a white shingled affair, replete with a white picket fence, and a corridor of rose bushes leading up to the porch.
Virgil knocked on the door and waited with a look of trepidation on his face. He turned to Merlot, “Leave the questions to me.”
Merlot saluted Virgil. “Yessiree, bossman!”
Virgil raised his eyebrows in annoyance.
Rose Bruger opened the front door to the FBI agents wearing a brightly colored floral kimono, and a shoulder length blonde wig.
Agents Tuckerwood and Merlot flashed their ID badges for Rose to get a good look at, which she did, making sure the faces matched the IDs.
“Virgil Tuckerwood, is that you?” Rose said with a smile on her face. “I’d heard the FBI were looking for our Beau.”
Virgil remained serious-faced. His tone was strictly professional and to the point. “Indeed … we’d like to speak with you and Walt about Beau’s disappearance.”
A troubled look flittered across Rose’s face. She looked somewhat dubiously at Virgil, seemingly ignoring the female agent. “You really want to speak to Walt? Are you sure? I mean, you and he never did see eye to eye.”
“Be that as it may, we need to speak to both of you in order to clear this mess up. The sooner we do that, the sooner we can leave.”
Rose shrugged her shoulders and gave another smile. “Okey dokey then, come on in, but I can’t be responsible for Walt.”
Agents Tuckerwood and Merlot stepped into the hallway of the Bruger residence.
Virgil gave the place a discerning look. The stuffed heads and pretty paintings were a nice touch — not! What a clash of décor — hideous!
Rose closed the door behind them. “This way,” she said cheerfully as she led the way down the hallway.
From her spritely manner Virgil quickly deduced Rose Bruger wasn’t taking her son’s disappearance seriously.
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