Time Games

by Rex Bolt

  They’d been seeing road signs on billboards for a while, the place kind hitting you over the head with it actually, starting to get a little obnoxious, for Sam’s Cider Town. Pike didn’t like hard liquor if that’s what it was, and he wasn’t about to try to sample something while he was driving anyway, and if it was regular apple cider he wasn’t a big a fan of that either.

  But they were using little cartoons to advertise other elements of Sam’s Cider Town, including a gift shop and a bakery with large wedges of cream pie, so it seemed worth a stop.

  It wasn’t bad. Pretty touristy of course but they had an old western town set up, and if you hung around long enough they had hourly gun battle showdowns in front of the fake saloon, and Pike thought that would be a fun summer job, to be one of those cowboy actors, though part of the deal was one of them falls off a roof when he gets shot and lands on something soft about 10 feet below, but still.

  They never did see anyone drinking cider of any type, but it was fun, you roamed around and there was a lot to look at and Hannamaker treated Pike to a barbequed brisket sandwich and they sat outside and ate at a picnic table beside a fake corral.

  “Well I tell ya,” Pike said, “you keep paying for stuff, I won’t even regret bringing you along.”

  Jack said, “Thanks. I’ll take that as a positive . . . You have to admit, this thing’s pretty good.”

  “Really good. And just to warn you, this might be the highlight meal of the trip.” Which could be true. He was trying to picture the food in Palm Springs and Anthem, Arizona.

  Jack kept chewing, and when he finished his mouthful, which was a large one, he washed it down with a sip of root beer, and then wiped everything with the napkin and kind of cleared his throat.

  “Okay now dog,” he said. “This has been bugging me for a while . . . And you’ll see, it’s not a big deal at all, really.”

  “Uh-oh,” Pike said.

  “Nah, see, you’re reading me wrong already . . . the thing of it is, I’m seeing you’re a good guy. I didn’t use to think so, especially, but now I do.”

  “Don’t stop there.”

  “I’m not saying you’re a close buddy or anything . . . let’s not go that far . . .”

  “But?”

  “But I’m comfortable around you . . . Dude, that perfume and all that? That was me in there those times in The Box . . . with Jocelyn.”

  “What?” Pike said.

  “Now take it easy. I mean you were on the outs, it was obvious. Everyone knew it. It seemed harmless enough, when you put it in perspective.”

  “I am taking it easy,” Pike said. What was really going on, he was seeing Hannamaker like he wasn’t quite real right now, like when you traveled and ran into someone you knew, but something was slightly off and the lines were blurred.

  Jack said, “At any rate . . . I wanted to let you know. Thanks for being a good sport. I feel better now, I really do . . . And just to add, nothing came of it, as you can see. It fizzled out pretty quick.”

  “Glad to hear it,” Pike said, and he went back to his barbequed brisket sandwich.

  Which may have been the best tasting thing in 5 counties but now tasted the way he remembered a communion wafer tasting, which was like plastic with bread crumbs attached.

  Jack kept talking, unfortunately. “I mean if it helps any additional,” he said, “it was all me, instigating it. She had nothing to do with that part.”

  Even though it was torture, Pike said, “Don’t worry about it . . . It’s all good.”

  “Man, you don’t know how nice it is to hear you say that. Which is what I was hoping would be your reaction. I mean technically you weren’t broke up yet, but what was the difference, really, it was just like you were already . . . Capiche?” Jack stuck out his hand.

  “What does that word mean, capiche?” Pike said, absentmindedly shaking hands.

  “Beats me, but you’ve never heard it? . . . I’m thinking it means are we on the same page here.”

  “Unh.”

  “Like I said, this business . . . it’s been weighing on me . . . I was of a mind to keep it to myself, let it die peaceful. But I’m glad I did the right thing.”

  Pike was thinking: You did the wrong thing, pal. You should have let it die peaceful.

  Jack said, “Okay. Now that we cleared the air there . . . What kind of pie do you want? It’s a hundred percent on me.”

  “Well,” Pike said, “I guess you can make mine a sour cream rasin then.”

  “I don’t know, they listed ‘em all inside, not sure I saw that one though.”

  “Oh yeah they have it, I saw someone eating one . . . You must just have to wait a minute and ask them to bring it out special from in back.”

  “If you say so,” Jack said, and he got up and disappeared into the little bakery wing of Sam’s Cider Town, which was across from the fake jail in the western village.

  Pike got up too, and went the other way, back through the gift shop and out into the parking lot and into the truck, and he followed all the other doofuses who’d had enough of Sam’s Cider Town for now and were turning right and looping back under the freeway and then getting back on it, in the general direction of Palm Springs, and that’s what he did too.

  Chapter 21

  “Gosh,” Dani said, taking off her sunglasses and laying down the paperback she was reading.

  “Yeah, well . . . you never know,” Pike said.

  She said, “Of the variety of ways that today could have gone . . .”

  “This wouldn’t be on the list?”

  “It most certainly would not . . . I’m somewhat shocked, honestly.”

  “Don’t be. What I tried first, was asking for your room number. It sounds like they don’t give that stuff out anymore, so I had to think hard for about two seconds and realize you might be at the pool.”

  “Please don’t get me wrong Pike, it’s good to see you. But what are you doing here?”

  “It’s nice to see you too,” he said, “especially after a kind of tough drive that took most of the day . . . You think you got the traffic beat, but then there’s always something. The worst part, when you finally start moving again, you can’t even figure out why you were stopped. I mean at least give me something, a fender-bender, whatever . . . When there’s nothing to point to, that’s even more frustrating.”

  “You’re rambling,” she said. “But what’s the real story?”

  “Well I was heading to Arizona. Someone suggested sort of spur of the moment that I combine it with a stop in Palm Springs . . . Looks like you’re kinda hot, don’t mind me, you want to take a dip.”

  “I was about to, actually,” she said. “What I’ve learned pretty quickly, is even in December you have about a twenty minute window before it’s time to cool off.”

  “The good thing too,” Pike said, as she got up from the lounge chair, “you’re comfortable in a bikini. That’s always the best choice for swimming.”

  Dani ignored him and dove in. It was an old-fashioned squared-off pool with a 12 foot deep end and enough room to swim some legitimate laps, and Dani swam for a while.

  Pike looked around to see if any new-looking male friends of hers might be sitting poolside as well and wondering what the hell he was doing, but it didn’t seem like there were.

  She got out, and he figured he better be a gentleman and he scrambled to hand her a towel, and she said, “Just so I have it clear--you’re passing through Palm Springs, or you’re planning on staying here . . . I mean tonight.”

  “I’m not sure,” he said.

  “Because if you’re worried about that . . . to put you at ease, you’re welcome to sleep on my floor. I have some extra quilts, so you can soften things up a bit, it shouldn’t be too bad.”

  “Gee . . . you sure? The neighbors, or the hotel people, they won’t think anything funny, some random younger guy emerging in the morning?”

  “You know what? I’m not too worried about what people are thinking these day
s, truth be told.” She said it like she meant it, and Pike said in that case he’d take her up on it.

  Dani said, “Fine, so we’ve established that. Now, let me think, where should we get a bite to eat . . . you’ll have to excuse me but I need a stiff drink every night with dinner, I’ve discovered . . . It helps me avoid pondering my fate. Nights tend to be the worst.”

  Pike didn’t like her getting all introspective on him, so he said, “You wouldn’t have expected it, but there was a pretty good sandwich joint on the way down here. Barbeque. You could start smelling it from the exit ramp.”

  Dani was still thinking. “We could try Tania’s. It’s walking distance. Give me a minute to get changed.” Pike took a seat at one of the round glass patio tables and checked his messages. There were a few that weren’t important, and then one from Mitch, asking if he had an estimated time of arrival.

  Nothing from Hannamaker, which he didn’t really expect, but it was good not to see one announcing he’d been kidnapped or something.

  As for Mitch, now that he was here in Palm Springs, who knows, maybe there wouldn’t be an ETA. The thought of sharing a room with the guy--in order to meet this Lucy lady--Pike wasn’t entirely sure about that one. Especially when by contrast you’re about to have dinner with a beautiful woman, even though, okay, she did do in those two guys.

  Tania’s was a simple place with a comfortable vibe, and Dani got her stiff drink and by the end of the meal had loosened up a bit and was telling a few stories and laughing.

  Pike chimed in about the Palm Springs House Hunters episode he’d seen. He said, “I’m watching it, and I’m thinking two things. What would my life be like if I lived there . . . I mean totally hypothetically . . . And also obviously, what’s your life like there now?”

  “You’re saying it gave you the feeling for that?”

  “Well it felt like it, the basic day-to-day atmosphere, yeah.”

  “The house-arrest part included?”

  “Sorry. That came out pretty lame.”

  “That’s fine. And I do know what you’re getting at, with that show, it can convey the spirit of a place . . . I actually saw that same one as well, that you’re referring to.”

  “I liked the couple. The pilot was a pretty cool dude. Knew what he was doing, definitely made the right choice.”

  “Are you kidding? They needed to take the mid-century modern. That was a complete no-brainer.”

  “Why? The one they got was turn-key perfect. They could rent it right out if they wanted, which was part of their plan.”

  “Pike, those mid-century moderns come up once in a blue moon. They’re special. They have a Frank Lloyd Wright influence, among other things.”

  “Okay . . . don’t get so excited, sheez.”

  They ordered coffee and she remembered something.

  “Let’s go backwards a minute,” she said. “The spur of the moment decision to detour here . . . you say someone suggested it?”

  “Pretty much, yeah.”

  “Someone you met while getting gas, or what?”

  Oh boy. “Nah, a friend of mine I happened to be talking to.”

  “On the phone? They knew about me, then?”

  “Not exactly . . . I told them I had a friend in Palm Springs, and I had a decision coming up at this interchange, should I take 5 or 40 . . . What’s the big deal?”

  “This was your friend from Arizona?”

  “No, the Arizona person is the old guy, Mitch . . . In fact you know all about Mitch.”

  “The gentleman from Manhattan Beach,” Dani said, and Pike was relieved to be going in a different direction now. He could fill her in on some of Mitch’s developments, which he really didn’t like getting into, but at least they’d shifted the conversation from her inquiring about Hannamaker.

  She said, “A friend from back home then?” Or maybe not.

  “You got it,” Pike said. “But getting back to Mitch, you know he narrowed it down . . . at least he thinks he did . . . to a silver mine, right?”

  “No. You haven’t told me that.” Dani was very still suddenly.

  Pike was thinking back and he realized he hadn’t told her. He remembered one conversation where he was about to drop it on her, but decided against it since at that point he didn’t believe it himself, and why jam up Dani with confusing information.

  Then soon enough the Chuck stuff happened, and it wasn’t a priority any more.

  “Okay here we go then,” Pike said. “You can take the whole shebang with a grain of salt . . . I’m on the fence here myself . . . What it is, there’s one of those open-air mines in New Mexico? I don’t know if it’s a big-pit type-thing or what, but it was closed for years and then they restarted it not that long ago.”

  Dani asked for a refill on the coffee.

  Pike continued. “Mitch’s theory--and I do have to give him some credit for researching it--is that particular mine supplies at least one lab that makes the amalgam that some dentists use.”

  “So it’s not a theory then,” Dani said. “It’s either a fact or it’s not.”

  “However you want to put it,” Pike said. “Bottom line, he says this mine supplied the lab where my filling came from . . . And don’t forget, silver is just a small piece of what goes into those fillings. There’s a lot of other junk, which was kind of surprising to find out.”

  “And the mine supplying the lab is significant, how?”

  “Well . . . and again, however you want to interpret it . . . Mitch thinks a UFO . . . how would you say . . . disturbed that mine. Back in 1956.”

  “A spaceship?”

  “I guess, yeah.”

  “Meaning . . . a trace material . . . from outer space . . . may have found its way into . . . your teeth?”

  “See how silly that sounds? . . . But yeah, that’s kind of where Mitch is at.”

  No one spoke for a while.

  “Do you want to go?” Pike said.

  “Let’s run through it again,” Dani said. “That lab that your friend found . . . could they have supplied dental offices in Idaho too?”

  Pike said, “I don’t think Mitch knows that yet. But I’m not going to lie to you, that could be the way it went down . . . I mean, if we believe in this whole fairy tale.”

  “So you’re saying . . . my friend’s husband in New York, the police officer as well?”

  Pike nodded. “There’ve been a handful Mitch has run across on account of his website, where people report paranormal stuff. Same basic scenario as us . . . My girlfriend back then, Cathy, she came across one too, an army guy . . . There’s also that dude in Texas, who I think I did tell you about, leaving out the details of the silver mine.”

  “The one who removed his filling.”

  “Yeah. Where it didn’t turn out good for him after that.” Pike didn’t see any reason to add the part about the filling then disappearing under suspicious circumstances, when Mitch was trying to have it analyzed, since Dani currently had enough of her own criminal scenario to worry about.

  Her face was scrunched up, and she was trying to make sense of something.

  “What?” Pike said.

  “Okay let’s say for now, for crazy argument’s sake, I buy into this . . . And let’s say that same lab supplies multiple dental offices, and to take it a step further, let’s say several labs around the country might receive silver material from that same mine . . .”

  “Then why aren’t more people affected,” Pike said.

  “Exactly . . . I mean we know these metal fillings aren’t common anymore, like they might have been during our parents’ generation . . . what with the concern about the safety of mercury and all . . .”

  “But the numbers,” Pike said.

  “Yes, they don’t add up. They should be explosive.”

  “Don’t forget, Mitch is only one guy, with an unsophisticated database. There have to be plenty of others we don’t know about . . . Look, I found you in the newspaper.”

  “But not en
ough others,” she said.

  “No.”

  “Is that what you were getting at, that time . . . when you asked if I was left-handed?”

  “Something else I didn’t ask you in addition,” he said. “Your blood type. I’m pretty sure I know the answer.”

  “Well that’s certainly not something I’m asked to dredge up every day, so I’m not quite certain. Though AB-negative rings a bell.”

  “Yeah, the rarest one. Me too. . . . So if that’s the case maybe we can narrow it down to lefties who are AB-negative, who ended up with tainted silver in their teeth, from one source . . . Right?”

  Dani said, “I don’t know . . . Something tells me that still leaves too many potential individuals.”

  “What I’m thinking too . . . You got some other factor, like were you a twin?”

  “No. You were?”

  “Not me, no,” Pike said.

  “Then why did you ask me?”

  “No good reason . . . I don’t even like bringing this up, but any other weird genetic stuff in your family? Or how about . . . I don’t know . . . any crazy reactions to vaccinations? I sort of had one of those, my arm swelled up bad for a week.”

  “Not that I know of,” she said, “though there is one thing along those lines, which I doubt means anything . . . When I was 7 or 8 I had what I was told was a somewhat rare childhood illness. Scarlet fever.”

  “I had that too,” Pike said.

  Chapter 22

  The restaurant was on a side street not too far from the heart of downtown, so after dinner they checked out the main drag, which was pretty darn dead by then, and started back to the motel. It was balmy, you didn’t feel like going inside, and you could smell flowers that seemed like they got stronger once the sun went down, though Pike had no idea what kind they were.

  “I must say,” Dani said, “my head is spinning. That was quite a revealing moment tonight.”

  “Nah no big deal,” Pike said. “Mitch has been throwing this stuff at me for a while, and I’ve been fending it off.”

  “Well for me . . . it at least feels good to have something to hang on to. It’s not easy being entirely in the dark for the last year and a half.”