Grave Promise

by David R Lewis

  by David R. Lewis

  ONE

  Discovery at Sunrise

  David Allen Crockett was sitting on the couch, contemplating the infinite through closed eyelids, when Ruby surged through the closet connecting door between their apartments. Catching Crockett off guard was one of her missions in life.

  “Up and at ‘em, Sweetie,” she warbled. “Things to do.”

  The mid-afternoon sun streaming through the living room windows made Crockett’s eyes water.

  “I am up,” he grumbled.

  “I heard you snoring from my side,” she said, walking to stand in front of him.

  Ruby was carrying a shopping bag and wearing a dark blue silk jumpsuit, belted at the waist, with an abundance of pockets, elastic around the ankles, and a neckline that left her cleavage behind as it journeyed halfway to her navel. All that was bottomed off by strappy black sandals with two-inch light wood soles and six-inch heels. She looked down at him from her well over six-foot altitude, pushed cobalt sunglasses up on top of her heavy black mane, and grinned through perfectly penciled lips. As usual, Crockett’s toes curled.

  “You like?” she asked, thrusting out a hip and posing, arms akimbo.

  “Not bad for an old broad,” he said.

  “And that’s just what’s on the outside,” she went on, ignoring his attitude. “Underneath it gets even better. I’ve been to Vicky’s.”

  Vicky’s is what Ruby called Victoria’s Secrets. She went to Vicky’s a lot. Ever the appreciative voyeur, Crockett never complained.

  “And, I have some gifts for you, Crockett. Your birthday is coming up next week. The Taurus ages.”

  “Don’t make a big deal outa anything, okay? I know I’m getting old.”

  “I’ve known you for almost twenty years,” she said, tossing him a thin package wrapped in white paper with a bow the color of her jumpsuit. “You’ve been a crotchety old bastard the whole time. It’s part of your charm.”

  Crockett smiled as he ripped off the paper and opened the small box. Inside was a pair of soft leather gloves perforated with dozens of small holes and open spots for knuckles.

  “For driving?” he asked.

  “Firm grasp on the obvious.”

  Crockett slipped on the right glove.

  “Thanks,” he said.“I don’t wanna seem ungrateful, and these are great gloves, but I hardly ever drive more than ten miles at a stretch.”

  “It’s only part of your gift. All will be made clear.”

  She tossed a large white rag in his lap. Crockett looked at it.

  “It’s a chef’s hat. Try it on.”

  “A chef’s hat?”

  Ruby put the bag down and squatted in front of him to apply the rag to his head. She poked and prodded for a while, arranging the thing like Paul Bunyan’s beret.

  “Perfect,” she said with a final pat. “God, that’s so manly. Is it warm in here, or is it just me?”

  “Jesus,” Crockett said as she returned her attention to the bag. “Is there more?”

  “Of course,” she said, and handed a little laundro-mat size box of Bounce. “That’s it. See? I told you all would be made clear.”

  “Driving gloves, a chef’s hat, and fabric softener?”

  “If only you would remember your promises,” Ruby said, flopping beside him on the couch. “Typical man. Give their word one minute, forget about it the next.”

  “You would be totally knowledgeable about such things from your years of extensive experience with the opposite gender, I suppose,” Crockett said.

  He removed the pillowcase draped over his bald spot. Ruby slipped an arm around his neck.

  “Will you never let me forget my past life of deviance and shame?” she said.

  “It’s my only defense.”

  Ruby’s slow grin took over half her face and she kissed him. It was one of her patented LaCost accosts, warm and wet and wonderful.

  “Not bad for a bristle-butted bull dagger, huh, Crockett?”

  “More,” he said.

  “Lots,” she replied, “but later. Right now let’s get back to your forgotten promise.”

  “What forgotten promise?”

  “Before we got sidetracked by the Amazing Disappearing Woman and all the rest of that, you said that you wouldn’t go to Europe with me, but if I’d go on a camping vacation with you, you would do all the driving, all the cooking, and help with the laundry.”

  The light came on. “Hence the gloves, hat, and fabric softener.”

  “God, you’re quick.”

  “You’ll go?”

  “Happy birthday, Crockett.”

  “Camping? You? Ruby ‘room service’ LaCost?”

  “If you’ll drive us in one of those big bus things. Another promise you’ve probably conveniently forgotten. I gotta have a shower and a vanity and stuff. A chandelier would be nice.”

  “Of course,” Crockett said. “Can’t have you tramping around in the woods in four-inch heels, looking for a place to potty. Why, you could break a nail trying to open a canteen! And if the smoke from a campfire caused your mascara to run, I don’t think I could go on!”

  “Finished, Shecky?” she asked, eyeballing him with considerable disgust.

  “That oughta ‘bout do it.”

  “Fine. Get out of those grubby sweats, put on some decent clothes, and make ready. We’re going out.”

  “We are? Where?”

  “To Sunrise RV on I-70 out by Grain Valley. Just this morning I spoke to a helpful young man there named Adam. He awaits our arrival this afternoon to discuss the rental of a very nice, very expensive, traveling estate. He assures me that he has several choices available and he will be more than able to satisfy my discriminating tastes.”

  “Oh,” Crockett said, the world whizzing by at an alarming rate.

  “Plus, we must visit a rent-a-car place and secure a dinghy.”

  “A dinghy?” Crockett asked, clutching feebly at passing straws.

  “A small car, Crockett. Those who pilot large motor homes usually tow an automobile that they refer to as a dinghy. We will need one. We certainly cannot tow that testosterone riddled truck of yours, and I would never expose my Jag to such indignity. Therefore…”

  “Therefore we need a dinghy,” Crockett said.

  Ruby gave him a pity rub on the leg and rose to her feet.

  “I have cleared my calendar, found a substitute for my patients that need one, and we leave day after tomorrow. Twenty minutes, Crockett. Shake your leg.”

  “What about the yard and garden?”

  “I have a very nice patient whose son will be more than happy to attend to it while we are gone.”

  “I thought we were going to have the living room wall removed this month so we’d actually be living together.”

  “Marvin will look it over while we’re gone and draw up the plans. He’ll find a contractor and take care of all the details. As soon as we return home, work will start. It won’t take long. Marvin says it will be lovely.”

  “Marvin?”

  “Another patient. Excellent taste and color sense.”

  “Aw, geeze.”

  “He will not touch any of your part except the living room wall. Everything’s taken care of. You can call your agent tomorrow and explain that you’ll be out of town.”

  Crockett stared at the floor. “Okay,” he said.

  “Seventeen minutes,” Ruby said, and vanished into the closet.

  Crockett rubbed his face and tried to find the motivation to get up.

  “Jesus,” he muttered. “Here we go.”

  Sunrise RV offers around a quarter mile of rolling real estate perched behind an eight-foot chain link fence, overlooking scenic I-70, about thirty minutes from downtown Kansas City. Ruby, now wearing a pale yellow cotton sundress with spaghetti straps and one of those necklines that folds over itself and gives the illusion that if the onlooker waits patiently and doesn’t blink, something wonderful might happen, thrashed the Jag to their
destination at alarming velocity. Crockett fought his way back from the near-death experience, kissed the tarmac, lit a Sherman, and waited for the earth to stop moving. Ruby, perched on very tall cork-soled sandals, slipped on a pair of sunglasses with frames that matched her dress, ignited her most dazzling smile, and made for the nearest individual of authority. The poor devil saw her coming and froze like a field mouse in front of a hawk.

  “Hello,” she purred. “I’m here for Adam.”

  Ruby charmed young Adam out of his unused college fund as she rejected a series of half-a-dozen motor homes he displayed for her. Crockett stayed out of the coaches, preferring to not watch the carnage, and looked at some pop-up campers, any of which would have met his meager needs exactly. At some length Ruby and Adam exited a massive unit in several shades of blue that he would soon learn was the Discovery 39L. Adam headed for the office and Ruby walked to Crockett.

  “We’ll take that one,” she said. “It’s certainly not the biggest or nicest, but I went with something smaller and more economical.”

  Crockett looked at the aircraft carrier she’d chosen and wondered how the hell he’d ever manage to herd it down the road.

  “How economical?” he said.

  “One point six percent of the purchase price per week.”

  “How much is that thing?”

  “I don’t know. Around a quarter of a million dollars.”

  “Two hundred and fifty grand?”

  “It has four slide-outs, a side by side fridge, two air conditioners, two furnaces, a seven-point-five kay-double-you diesel generator–”

  Crockett smiled. “Seven point five, huh?”

  “Seven point five kay-double-you,” Ruby replied primly.

  “And do you have any idea what that means?”

  “Not one. But I do know what a washer and dryer are, and it has those.”

  “This is gonna cost a fortune,” Crockett said.

  Ruby pointed to an office building on wheels about a hundred yards away.

  “That one costs over a million bucks,” she said. “It was my favorite.”

  “I like this one.”

  “I thought you would. The rental includes a dinghy and everything to tow it and make its brakes work.”

  “Oh! Well, that’s different.”

  “Of course, there’s also insurance and mileage charges.”

  “Mileage charges? They charge you all that rental money and mileage?”

  “And there’s even a TV camera that shows you what’s behind you.”

  “I’d rather look at what’s behind you,” Crockett said.

  “Thank you. Plus satellite TV, surround sound DVD, a skylight over the shower, a computer station, and a really nice kitchen.”

  “Galley.”

  “And a really nice galley.”

  Crockett looked at her for a moment and shook his head.

  “I don’t have a chance here, do I?”

  Ruby grinned, and slugged him lightly on the arm.

  “Naw,” she said.

  “Okay.”

  “Oh, and one other thing,” Ruby said. “It’s on me. Happy birthday, Crockett.”

  What a woman.

  TWO

  Launching the Pequod

  At Sunrise RV, Ruby presented Adam with a large check and an oversize smile. The poor guy wiggled like a beagle pup and Crockett could see spittle at the corners of his mouth. Tough kid. That much money, in combination with a LaCost grin, could put a Hell’s Angel in the fetal position. The lad promised he’d have the Discovery 39L Quad-Slide in pristine order, complete with a Suziki 2-door dinghy attached firmly to the rear hitch, at ten the following morning. Crockett had not the slightest idea what any Suzuki 2-door was, and the only reason he could identify a Discovery 39L Quad-Slide was because when he stood beside it, it looked like somebody had covered The Great Wall of China with blue graffiti. Its wheels were bigger than his first apartment. On the drive home Ruby caught him contemplating his fate.

  “Whatzamatter, Crockey?” she chuckled. “Reality catchin’ up to ya?”

  “Yeah,” he sniffed in his best Barney Fife. “Me’n the missus got us a 87 foot Discovery Mega Slide. Ninety-seven tons of rollin’ thunder. On the way to Bumfuck, Idaho to see the world’s largest ball of mud. This mornin’, we already crushed us a road grader, a tollbooth, two park rangers, and a Baptist minister’s daughter ridin’ a little red motorscooter. Hell of a trip. Havin’ a great time!”

  Ruby grinned. “You’ll do fine. Did you know there are actually men out there that drive Greyhounds for a living?”

  “Yeah, but they get those snappy bus driver suits.”

  “Clothes do not make the man, Crockett. Are you less than they?”

  “Probably,” he grumbled.

  Ruby smiled patiently. “God, I love a man in uniform,” she said.

  Ruby went to the store that evening, leaving Crockett alone to study a Discovery owner/operator manual slightly larger than the Manhattan telephone directory. How to slide the slides, how to start the generator, how to operate the septic system, fill the water tanks, empty the water tanks, hook up the utilities, monitor the propane, turn on the entertainment center, fill the gas tank, use the GPS system, activate the TV monitor, extend the awnings, fire up the furnaces, check the batteries, use the information center, access the “basement” storage areas, level the coach, raise the satellite dish, go to the john, open the windows, close the drapes, and bring peace and harmony to Korea, North and South.

  Ruby came breezing in around 8:30 carrying half a dozen shopping bags.

  “The Jag’s full of groceries and stuff, Crockett,” she said, eyeballing the abundance of information he’d spread across the coffee table and over the couch. “Learning anything?”

  “Could you show me where the steering wheel is?”

  “Someplace near the big windows in the front, I think.” She tossed him a small package. “Happy birthday again. I got you some sunglasses for our excursion.”

  “Thanks.”

  “C’mon. Help me unload the car,” she said, dropping her bags to the floor.

  Crockett noticed that two of them were from Vicky’s.

  Hell, he could drive that big blue bus.

  When Crockett arrived at Sunrise RV a little before ten the next morning, the aircraft carrier, freshly washed and fluffed, was posed majestically in the center of the parking area. Attached to the rear, a small yellow car appeared to have its nose up the bus’s butt. A smiling Adam trotted out to greet him, but seemed disappointed that Ruby was not on hand. He resisted the urge to gnash his teeth and sulk, however, and they spent about two hours touring the motor home inside and out, going over what Crockett had read in the manual the night before. Ruby was right. The steering wheel was up near the front windows. After the extensive hands-on instruction things actually did make some sense and, with the front opposing slide-outs slid out, the living area was nearly twelve feet wide. In spite of himself, Crockett was impressed. He wondered what the million-dollar model might be like.

  A little after noon, Adam urging him on, Crockett took the wheel and piloted the thing out I-70 to an Odessa truck stop where the lad bought him lunch. While the bus had all the acceleration of a glacier and lateral response of a freight train, its long wheelbase made it track like a dream. The immense windows, windshield, and height offered great vision, the mirrors were wonderful, even giving him a view of how close the tires would be to curbs, and the rear-view TV monitor was a godsend. They tacked majestically down the off-ramp, jibed their way into the truck stop lot, dropped sail in the big truck parking area and moored beside a Peterbuilt powered semi, the dinghy trailing obediently in their wake. Crockett’s confidence soared.

  After lunch he noticed there was only a quarter of a tank of fuel and stopped by the diesel pumps to fill up. Seventy-three gallons to top off. In spite of the pump shock, he did not abandon the vehicle, but piloted it back to Sunrise, signed the necessary insurance papers, left the keys to
his truck with Adam upon his promise to store it safely in their small lock-up lot, climbed back up to the flying bridge and set sail, somewhat confidently, for town. What fools we mortals be.

  By the time Crockett had negotiated the Kansas City traffic and narrow brick streets of the Hyde Park area to within a few blocks of his 42nd and Locust destination, he was a wreck. Soaked with sweat to the beltline, he phoned Ruby.

  “Crockett! I love you. Havin’ fun?”

  “Compared to this, fun would be a kidney stone. Look out the window and tell me what the parking situation is on the street.”

  “The street? Can’t you park in our lot?”

  Because they lived in a converted apartment building, theyhad a twelve-car lot behind the place.

  “Christ, Ruby. You couldn’t get this pig’s gas tank in that lot!”

  “You’re in luck!” she nearly shouted. “If you come in exactly at the corner, you’ve got at least four open spaces! Hurry!”

  “Hurry?” Crockett choked, lights dancing in his vision due to spiking blood pressure. “Get outside and guard those spots. If anybody tries to pull in, throw yourself in front of their vehicle! I’ll be there in five minutes if I don’t sideswipe anything.”

  “Gotcha!” she yelled and disconnected.

  With all the finesse of the Queen Mary navigating a sewage canal, he maneuvered the coach carefully to their building and coasted to a stop six inches behind a parked Toyota, the body of the bus actually overhanging the curb, the rear bumper of the dinghy less than a foot from the corner. Ruby entered before he could find the strength to lever himself out of the seat. She peered at him.

  “You look beat.”

  He shook his fist at the interior of the cabin.

  “Ye dammed whale!” he shouted, Ahab incarnate.

  Ruby dropped into the co-pilot seat and laughed.

  Crockett went inside, took off his leg, sank into a hot tub, and drank three fingers of single malt. Christ. At this rate, he’d be an alcoholic before they got out of Missouri.