The Serpent and the Light
Page 2
He gritted his teeth and persevered, “The streetlight caught her face, and I saw Maisy taking my clothes off. Then the next thing I remember is the morning sun shining through the window. I didn’t know where I was when I woke up. I looked over and saw her half-naked and texting on her phone. I made my way to the door and crawled out to the living room.”
His eyes betrayed his feelings of deep embarrassment as he admitted, “Dude, I think I slept with her, man.”
Henry could not contain his excitement. For a year, the crew had taken her abusive criticisms. She turned to judgment each time someone had some pot, had some drinks, or failed to live up to her version of Christianity. She just typed away on her phone, oblivious to Henry or Juste as she passed them.
Henry jumped up in exhilaration, exclaiming, “Dude! This is great! You have to tell the crew!”
Juste’s eyes went wide with fear, “No! You can’t tell anyone!”
Henry did an awkward dance and continued, “Maisy has been on this ‘holier than thou’ kick for a year. This will knock her down a peg or two.”
The Cajun grabbed him by the arm and pleaded, “No, man! Her family is too connected. Promise me you won’t tell anyone?”
Henry put his hands in his pockets and wondered, Is this her sick way of telling me she isn’t interested in me anymore? God, I hope so!
Henry mustered up as much of a sympathetic look as he could and lied, “You can trust me, Juste. I won’t tell a soul!”
By that afternoon, everyone at the sandwich shop knew about the Juste and Maisy liaison. Henry had gone to each one individually and recreated everything step-by-step. He comedically recreated the drunken scaling of the terrace and imitated the zig-zagging track across the snow-covered overhang. As a bonus, he would mimic the crawl out of the bedroom and impersonate Maisy’s exodus from his apartment.
One of the cooks named Todd skipped back, acted like he was going to throw a spear, and yelled, “Yare! What be your porpoise here today?”
The entire crew laughed as Juste cashed out three telephone linemen. The men looked confused at the ruckus, as the Cajun angrily tore off the receipt from the printer and handed it to a thick-mustached city worker. Juste turned red-faced, as the humiliation was building inside him.
Marching up to his friend, Juste shouted, “You told the crew! Why? You promised you wouldn’t say anything! Now they’ll never stop. When word hits Eastland Christian College, the students will come in and rub it in my face!”
Henry cocked his head and rebuked, “You’re taking this too seriously. That’s not going to happen.”
His friend stabbed a finger into Henry’s chest and whispered, “No, it’s going to be worse! She flaunts how well connected her father is there, and how most students there are sinners. They will be dying to see her taken down a notch, and I don’t want to be the ax. Now Dallas will find out. She already thinks I’m a joke. You shouldn’t have told anyone, man!”
He put a hand on his friend’s shoulder and quipped, “Yeah, but if I had done that, how would it be funny?”
Juste slapped the hand away, as he spat, “Couillon! You’re not getting it! That bitch raped me!”
The words hit Henry like a ton of bricks as he repented, “Man, I’m sorry. I didn’t think about it that way. You do a new girl, like, every week. I just thought you had buyer’s remorse after screwing Maisy. I never thought it was like that.”
The shorter man’s body shook with a chill, and he confessed, “I didn’t have a choice, man. She forced herself on me.”
A feeling of regret came over Henry as he pondered out loud, “I don’t know what to say. Do you want to call the cops?”
Juste put up a hand as a signal to keep it down, then back pedaled, “No! Are you kidding, man? What am I going to do? Tell the cops that I was raped by a drunk woman I work with? You know, Maisy. She’s crazy. What if she tells the cops I was the one who forced myself on her? She could turn it around in a heartbeat.”
Henry took a second to think it through and blurted out, “She wouldn’t do that. Not that, man.”
The Cajun chuckled and answered, “Really? You think for one second she wouldn’t spin this? She comes from a well-to-do family and has lived the model of Christian life since birth. She brags about being a straight-A student and is attending Eastland on a full-ride courtesy of her church, which happens to be Eastland.”
The image her face on promotional billboards at the College flashed in his head, as Henry thought, He’s not wrong. She is on several committees and rumored to have a shot at being on the university’s board of directors once she graduates with a teaching degree.
Before Henry could answer, Juste continued, “I’m a failed singer from New Orleans, who had to move back into his family’s house in Tulsa. Lewis’s Hoagies is all I have, and most of these places have customers that come in from Eastland. All Maisy’s dad would have to do is make one call to Lewis, and he would have to fire me or risk losing a big chunk of his business. You don’t get it. I’m one bad decision away from being homeless.”
Henry’s toes curled a little in his shoe and realized, “If Maisy did decide to say something happened against her will with you, then it happened in my apartment. This could be really bad for both of us. I think I might have screwed us. Look, I’ll talk to the crew and see what I can do.”
Henry took the time to talk to each of the staff members in turn, begging them to keep their mouths shut. He reminded them how Maisy could be and got most of their assurances. Even though no one had seen her go to that level, they ultimately wanted to make sure to protect Juste.
Todd looked side-eyed over at Juste and remarked, “Man, he is going to have a hard enough time getting over being raped. No need to make it worse.”
The word “rape” made Henry tighten up inside, Shit, I hadn’t even considered what Juste is really going through. I’m a crappy friend.
The skinny cook looked over at the Cajun and consoled, “Don’t worry. Everyone’s on board. You’re good.”
Henry took off his work ball cap and admitted, “The guy lives paycheck to paycheck. If she took that from him…”
The cook shrugged his skinny shoulders and replied, “He’s always talking about how he used to fish for soft shell crab off the coast of New Orleans. Maybe he could go back to that.”
Just then, the shop door burst open, and sunglass-wearing Dallas came marching in late for work. She was a fit woman in her late twenties who also had an accounting class with Henry at Eastland. The dark circles she revealed when she took off her shades denoted she also had a rough hangover.
Todd leaned in and whispered, “How do you think Dallas will take it?”
Henry shrugged as the thin cook added, “Remember that day when it snowed so bad that we were stuck at the store. Juste nearly froze, bringing his fiddle up here just so he could hang out with the rest of us. What was that song he and Dallas kept singing?”
Henry put back on his hat and answered, “Hippy Ti Yo.”
The cook snapped his fingers and thundered, “That was it! Shit, I was sick of that by the time we could finally go home.”
Henry let out a small chuckle and divulged, “It was the first time I’d seen Lewis dance. His fat belly jiggled so much his keys launched right off his hip. If this goes down wrong, it will kill him.”
He walked to where Juste was cutting tomatoes and ordered, “Come on, man. Let’s take a break.”
The two went out the back door of the old shop, as Henry announced, “Dude, we might have a bigger problem. If she decides to turn this around, and Lewis decides to back you, it could mean the end for his shop.”
The back area had a large green dumpster, and stacks of wooden pallets collected against the building. Off in the distance, the railroad tracks stretched under a large overpass and had the blinking lights of police cruisers lined up on top of the bridge. Large bundles of old boxes and trash lay around the dumpster, filling the air with the putrid smell of spoiled food.
Henry looked down and replied, “I know it was condemned in the ’90s. Lewis’s friend Jeff used most of their collective savings and a substantial loan from the bank to get it going. It’s his life.”
The Cajun looked up and added, “It’s mine too! The best thing I can do is pretend this never happened.”
From behind them, the thunderous sounds of a train moving fast over some tracks sounded out from the thick woods that populated the back lot. Henry plopped down on the stack of pallets and watched the passing locomotive, as it emerged from the trees. Juste rolled a joint, and the two enjoyed the rhythmic sounds of the wheels hitting the rails.
The balding young man thought, Maybe I should have slept with her, then this wouldn’t have happened.
The caboose passed by, and Henry offered, “Okay, look at it this way. Considering how she… well… took advantage of you. I’m going to guess she has done something like this before. No one has heard about it. So that means she’s good at keeping her secrets. If we don’t bring it up, she won’t. You’ll see.”
Juste looked at the dingy back door of the shop and asked, “What about Dallas? She’ll find out. Any hope of making something real with her is going to be ruined.”
With a chuckle, Henry pointed out, “Dude, of all the women that you have slept with in the past year, why be worried about Dallas finding out about Maisy? Come on. Dallas does what she wants with who she wants. You’re both whores. Don’t worry until you’ve got something to worry about!”
The Cajun spun around at him with an agitated, “Easy for you to say. You’re in College, Lewis loves you like a son, and you’ve got, like, goals.”
He patted his friend's jacket, “You have a great family who let you move in on a dime when things went wrong. My family disowned me when I insisted on going to college. A family of Pentecostals disowning a family member for going to a Christian college, because he wasn’t going to stay home and help with the farm. So, before you start looking at me as someone who’s got it figured out, you should have some perspective. Juste Theriot took a hit today, but he is still playing in the game, with people who care for him on his team.”
Juste gave him a half-smile then lamented, “Maisy’s shift starts at 3.”
He looked at the time on his phone and sighed, “I suppose we should get going and remind people not to say anything.”
On the way in, Juste grabbed the air freshener, and the two sprayed themselves down liberally. They rounded the corner to the kitchen, smelling like they had bathed in vanilla. It helped to mask not only the smell of pot, but also their stench of body odor and unwashed clothes.
Maisy came in the front door ten minutes early, as usual, and the place went silent. As the jukebox played Scorpions, “Wind of Change,” she pulled her dark hair back in a ponytail. The black Lewis’s Hoagies T-shirt was its typical pristine condition, just like her strict attention to company policies such as the clock in times. Breezing past the front counter, she stuffed her purse in her employee locker without a hint of interest in anyone.
One of newer cooks smiled broadly and greeted her, “Hey Maisy. What’s new?”
Henry’s stomach tightened as she looked at him blankly, saying, “I liked you better when you didn’t talk to me.”
Todd burst out laughing at the burner and grabbed the new guy by the collar. The pair disappeared around the corner, as the cook gave his newbie a blistering. Henry turned back around to ignore her and continued counting down a register.
Juste was loaded down with boxes of dough and didn’t see her when he backed into Maisy. Henry watched as the two turned towards each other and locked eyes. Juste was speechless with his jaw nearly on the floor, and he dropped the rest of the boxes on the ground.
Maisy turned up her lip in disgust, screeching, “Watch where you’re going, stoner!”
With a dismissive turn, she walked away and went to the dining room. Henry watched the tall woman start her side work, without even a glance backward at the Cajun. He went over and helped his friend pick up the boxes, as Dallas sauntered over to them both.
She looked at a mortified Juste and mouthed the word “Awkward.”
Juste’s face turned red as he realized Dallas knew what had happened last night. Henry turned around to keep his smile hidden from his anguished friend and saw that three cop cars had pulled up in the parking lot. The black and white cruisers didn’t have their lights on, but the officers were searching the parking lot for something. A white man in a suit exited an unmarked car and gathered the other cops in a circle. He seemed to be giving them instructions.
Todd walked up beside Henry and gave an alarmed, “Dude, that ain’t good. Those cops aren’t here for the food.”
He looked back to see the entire staff had stopped working and were looking out the windows. Dallas ran to the bathroom and slammed the door. A few seconds later, he heard the women’s toilet flushing over and over. To the side, he watched the new guy grow hives on his neck, and his breathing sped up to the point of hyperventilating.
It hit him, Jesus, everyone here smokes weed. Surely they wouldn’t raid us just for that?
Maisy started sweeping and announced, “Don’t freak out. They’re probably just here to see Lewis, and are looking for their discount.”
Todd pointed at them and observed, “How many cops come wearing latex gloves to walk a perimeter before they come in to order a turkey on rye?”
When Dallas emerged from the bathroom, Henry demanded, “Dallas, call Lewis. Tell him what’s happening. I’ll go see what’s up.”
Maisy stopped sweeping and suggested snidely, “Why don’t you have her go out there and ask them what’s going on? I’m pretty sure she’s slept with at least one of them.”
Dallas picked up a heavy wooden cutting board from the counter and threatened, “How about I give them something new to investigate. Like the mystery of the unconscious skank.”
The skinny cook chimed in, “I love Clue! I guess Dallas, with the candlestick, in the dining room.”
The taller woman extended her middle finger as Henry pleaded, “Hey, cut the shit and go call Lewis!”
Juste walked up next to him and pondered, “Wasn’t Lewis supposed to be here today?”
Henry shook his head as the Cajun continued, “Don’t you think that’s kinda weird?”
He shot a glance over at his buddy and replied, “He’s the boss. He can do what he wants when he wants. Besides, he was pretty wasted at last night’s party. He might be sleeping it off.”
Todd pointed outside and blurted out, “Look.”
An older man in a suit was on his way towards the front door, as the rest of the cops stayed behind to continue their search. The entire crew watched him intently as he made his way to the entrance. Henry had never seen him at the shop before. He was wearing black slacks and a grey suit coat. The cop had unnaturally dark hair that was combed to one side and an equally artificially-colored mustache.
The man pitched the door open and announced, “My name is Detective John Utterson with the Tulsa Police Department. One Lewis Turner was found deceased this morning.”
A dramatic squeak came out of Maisy’s mouth, as Utterson bellowed, “Each one of you will need to give me a statement before I allow you to be released. Now, which one of you is Henry Jekyll?”
Chapter 2: John I
Tulsa, Oklahoma - Tuesday, October 16th, 2018 – 3:14 p.m. CST
Detective John Utterson looked around at the half-open eyelids of the staff and could easily see they were baked. The whole restaurant smelled like a vanilla candle, mixed with the odor of pot. A young man in his twenties came walking around the counter in response to his question. The overpowering stench almost knocked Utterson over as the cook approached him. The crew member had a mustard stain slashed across the logo “Lewis’s Hoagies” on his work shirt, and sported s
everal holes that revealed his pasty white flesh.
He thought, Degenerate.
The greasy-haired cook volunteered, “I’m Henry Jekyll.”
Utterson took a slight step back from the smell and inquired, “You’re the Assistant Manager?”
The young man stood with a fixed look on his face and seemed like he was doing everything he could to look normal. Jekyll’s skin looked wet from a mixture of perspiration and oily skin. The pothead put his hands behind his back to keep himself from fidgeting and attempted to throw his shoulders back, which only accentuated his fish-like gut.
With a slight twitch in his mouth, Jekyll gave a meek, “I’m the Shift Leader. Lewis is dead? Oh, my God! How? Why?”
The young man was utterly still and looked genuinely upset, as tears welled up in his eyes. Utterson wondered, is this an act, or anxiety from something he might be hiding? He looked out and saw two more patrol cars had arrived, along with the Crime Scene Investigator.
He looked around and requested, “So, is there a manager I can talk to?”
Jekyll threw up one hand and gave a nervous, “I mean, yes. I’m the manager’s assistant. I guess that technically makes me the Assistant Manager, I suppose.”
The Detective pointed at a booth on the far side of the restaurant and ordered, “Let’s talk.”
An overweight waitress with dark hair was cleaning a collection of salt and pepper shakers next to the table he picked out. She hovered just close enough to hear what they were saying but tried to appear disinterested. Utterson caught the woman’s eyes and pointed her towards the kitchen. She threw down her towel, stomping away in a huff.
Utterson yelled after her, “While you’re back there, bring me a cup of coffee in a to-go cup, lots of sugar, lots of cream.”
As the tall woman let out a few cuss words, Utterson and Jekyll sat down on the ripped-up seats of the booth. He pulled out a notepad and threw it on the dark-brown table. Flipping it open to a clean page, he wrote down the date and Henry’s name. The young man was fidgeting in his seat, and his right leg was shaking up and down.