Curds and Whey Box Set

by G M Eppers

  “I told you people weren’t going to talk,” said Nitro, sitting on the other side of Sylvia, his field kit propped in his lap. “It’s the first rule. And the second rule.”

  As Sir Haughty backed into a Y-turn to put us back on the road, I told Nitro, “As I recall, Fight Club became a huge organization. Did they never realize that someone was not taking those first two rules seriously? Someone talked about Fight Club and someone is going to talk about Cheese Club. It’s inevitable.” Our job was going to be figuring out who was likely to talk and to be there when they did. But given our progress so far, we might be in Ireland for a very long time.

  It was dusk, and Sir Haughty turned on the high beam headlights to better see the road. Traffic was sparse, but not non-existent. “By the way, Roger’s findings indicate that Tevaughn did not kill Patrick O’Shea,” I said loud enough for everyone to hear. “I don’t think the Dunleavys have anything to do with the O’Shea murders and fire aside from taking in the animals.”

  “But we follow the Uber,” said Nitro. “Which means we drop the murder investigation for now? That doesn’t feel right.”

  I tended to agree. “Chembassador Zickman has turned over all the information we have to the Guardians of the Peace,” which is what the Irish police force is called, “and they will be pursuing the case from here on in. He’ll monitor their progress and if Uber is involved he’ll call us back in. In a way, I don’t mind. There were getting to be too many threads. It’ll be much easier concentrating on just Tevaughn.” In the back of my mind, as I thought about the idea of too many threads, I remembered the multiple bodies found in the cemetery back home in Springfield. I made a mental note to check in with Roger about that after we retired for the evening at the Banshee’s Breath. Team B was supposed to be handling it, but I didn’t want to wait for a monthly dispatch to find out what was happening. But before we could do that we had to collect Roxy and the warrant and pay a visit to the Smoky Flue. The investigation might have narrowed, but my concerns certainly hadn’t.

  Suddenly, everyone was yelling at once and the van came to a screeching halt. I opened my eyes, leaning over in front of Sylvia to see between the seats and out the windshield. The road was blocked by a herd of fifty or sixty dairy cows. “Cows,” said Sylvia as I excused myself and got out of her way. They were mostly black and white Holsteins, but even in the dim light I could see the occasional brown Jersey and even a few white cows. They lolled on the road and alongside, looking confused and lost. One in the middle of the road stared disinterestedly at the van. “Sir Haughty, switch to low beams. The bright light might be scaring them.” He did and the beams of light fell from the cows to the few feet of road right in front of the van. If he’d been driving with low beams, however, he might not have seen them in time to stop. I looked at the herd, trying to see the farmhand who was probably leading them home for the evening milking, but I saw no one. Sir Haughty honked the horn once, hoping to get the cows moving, but they ignored the sound and continued standing around, lowing softly.

  “Anyone know how to herd cows?” I asked. If Knobby had been with us, he might have been able to do it. Or Ross, the mentally challenged young man we’d left at the Mayo Clinic. He had a way with animals. But he was in Minnesota and we were in Ireland.

  “Nope,” replied Badger. “I’m assuming you don’t want to start a stampede.”

  “I’d rather not, but let’s keep that in mind for Plan B.” I didn’t have a clue how to start a stampede, either, actually, at least not in any way that was remotely safe. I don’t think yelling, “Boo!” would get them going, and I was strongly reluctant to firing warning shots into the air.

  Badger carefully put his phone on the dashboard and got out of the car. “I’ll see what I can do.” Windows were rolled down so we could hear his progress, as he slowly approached the nearest cow. “Shoo!” He yelled at it. “Go on home. Shoo!”

  Agnes and Avis were giggling already. Agnes, who had the window seat, leaned her head out. “They’re Irish cows, Badger. They probably don’t understand English.”

  I didn’t say it out loud, but I was thinking, “They’re cows. They probably don’t understand speech.”

  “Bróg!” yelled Badger in response. He said a few more words in Irish, then repeated, “Bróg!” patting one on the rear flank to try to get it started. He pushed, putting his shoulder into it, and puffed out, “Le do thoil, Elsie.” The cow didn’t budge any more than the rock of Gibraltar might have. Badger was not even as much of a nuisance as a fly and didn’t even rate a swat from her tail.

  Agnes and Avis giggled some more. “I don’t think Elsie is an Irish name. Try Eileen.”

  Badger turned toward the van. “One of you guys want to come out and try?”

  I opened my door. “Come on. Everyone pick a cow. Let’s clear the road and get on with our lives.” So we all got out and approached a cow. Unlike Badger, I went to the front of a cow, and stroked the huge head as she chewed her cud. There was no halter or harness to grab onto and pull. They were naked cows. “Hey, Sunshine. Time to go. Come on, girl.” I moved out in front of her and tried to coax her forward. She stood, resolutely chewing. “Look, there’s grass over there!” I tried to sound excited, but it seemed the fresh grass on the other side of the road was not as enticing as the regurgitated cud. The cud had the advantage of being right there where she needed it rather than four feet away.

  The Dunleavy farm was less than ten minutes from Ballincollig, but it was going to take more than an hour to get there at this rate. Looking around, I could see the others weren’t having much luck, either. In fact, some of the cows who were standing on the opposite side had turned around and come into the road to see what was going on. I kept trying, avoiding profanity as well as the cowpies in the road, keeping my voice calm, but growing increasingly irritated. Neither Sunshine, nor Sweetheart, nor Boo, nor Cupcake would move off the road. Badger was now loudly mooing at them and Nitro had mounted one, trying to ride it like a horse. With no reins, no spurs, and no saddle, he didn’t last long. The cow did a 360 and he slid awkwardly back to the ground, disappearing for a moment between two of them. He popped back up quickly. Sylvia seemed to be trying to use telepathy from the north side of the road. The twins were pushing and pulling, chanting “Moo” like a mantra, and Sir Haughty was actually near the van using the headlights to see his phone better, probably Googling cattle driving.

  I didn’t see Billings, which is unusual. With him being taller than the cows he should have been easy to spot, even in the growing darkness. Then I saw him, south of the road, pulling with him a young man in homespun clothes who was desperately trying to fasten his trousers. “Get your herd off the road, please,” he said, almost throwing the young man at the cows.

  The man hitched his pants. “All right, all right. I’m sorry, sir. Nature called, you know. What do you want me to do, shite in the road?” I wasn’t about to tell him that half of his cows had already done that. “I wasn’t done yet, you manky hoop.“

  “We’ve been here almost fifteen minutes!” Billings yelled incredulously.

  “Mind your own business, you langer dan.” He stroked the nearest cow as if to comfort her, though she didn’t look at all stressed. She mooed and chewed her cud. “There, there, Eileen.”

  Agnes jumped on it. “I TOLD you to try Eileen!”

  The young man was circulating among the cows, taking stock of the herd. I walked over to Billings so I didn’t have to yell. “Billings, has it really been fifteen minutes?”

  “Pretty much,” he said, without consulting his watch. He too, was keeping an eye on the Irish cowboy.

  “If he was trying to um . . . you know, all this time . . . I wonder if maybe . . . “

  “Maybe what?”

  “Excuse me!” I called to the kid. He came over, looking like he was ready to slug me. “I’m really sorry about this. We’re on important business. But could I ask you a couple of questions? This won’t take long and then you can be on your
way.”

  He nodded, stroking the nearest cow on its flank.

  Billings looked at me, not sure what to expect. “Do you know a man named Tevaughn Dunleavy?”

  He seemed to consider it a moment, then said, “No, Ma’am.” God, I hate when they Ma’am me. I’ve never felt like a Ma’am in my life.

  “Have you ever been to the Smoky Flue?”

  Again, he thought for a couple of beats before repeating his answer. “No, Ma’am.”

  “Thank you. You can go back to your cows now.”

  The young man walked calmly out to the front of the herd, north of the road, then took a position northeast. “Come.” He made some clicking noises and snapped his fingers in the air. Just as calmly, he started walking. The cows nearest him saw him and started moving. When the cows behind them saw the ones in front move, they followed. We quickly darted out of the way, gathering around the van to watch as the herd soon moved as one across the road. “You thought he might be in Cheese Club,” said Billings.

  “Yes. And I still think he might be in Cheese Club.” I was worried. If he took fifteen minutes, he could be well into Offensive Obstruction. There wasn’t much I could do about it. Even if he sought medical care, it could be too late, and he seemed unlikely to pursue it.

  In less than five minutes the road was passable. We waved at the herd for no reason, got in the van, and proceeded to Ballingcollig with high beams.

  Just outside the town, I heard Billings say, “No way!” He turned to look back at me. “Mom, I think it’s Tevaughn. That’s the Lexus I saw earlier.” I could see the car in front of us, its tail lights blazing. I didn’t ask him if he was sure. It was probably the only Lexus for a hundred miles. “Follow him.” Roxy can wait a bit longer, I thought. “Discreetly.”

  Spinning the wheel, he jockeyed into a position behind the Lexus with a Volkswagen Jetta in between. The Jetta turned off as soon as we got into the town limits, but Billings kept back the same distance. The Lexus rolled quietly toward the Smoky Flue, turned into the alley between the Flue and the salon, and disappeared behind the building. Taking the van back there would be too obvious, so I had Billings park a block back and across the street. “Sylvia, you’re with me. The rest of you stay here. We’ll be right back.”

  “Careful, Mom. Don’t let him see you. He could be armed.” No, I thought, I plan to waltz up and ask him to dance. I put one hand on the butt of my Glock, taking some comfort in the cold metal.

  If he was anything like the rest of his family, he could have a double barrel Granny Clampett special. Low tech, but just as deadly as any other firearm. Sylvia and I got out, trotting to the opposite side of the Flue and continuing around to the back. We stopped there and peeked around the corner.

  The Lexus was backed up near the back door of the Flue, motor running, lights still on, trunk lid wide open. “Oh my God,” Sylvia whispered.

  “Sshhh.”

  We watched as quietly as we could, my own breathing loud in my ears. For a long time there was nothing. Then the door opened, letting out a little shaft of light briefly, and Tevaughn came out carrying what looked like a woman slung over his shoulder. Her head, long black hair, and arms hung down loosely behind him, his arm tucked around her hips, bunching up a dark skirt with petticoats showing at the hem. That was all I could distinguish before the door swung closed and they both became silhouettes. Then he stepped into the light coming from the trunk of the Lexus, which threw weird shadows in every direction. He lowered her into the trunk gently, arranging her a bit before bringing the lid down with a soft click. Now there was only the soft halo of hazy light from the headlights. He looked around and we ducked behind the corner again, afraid we’d been seen. When we looked back, Tevaughn was behind the wheel, driving back the way he’d come.

  We raced back to the van. “I think that was a dead body!” Sylvia hissed.

  “We don’t know for sure she was dead,” I corrected her, looking both ways for traffic as we got to the street. We had to stop short for a white sedan to pass before we could cross safely. I didn’t want to jump to any conclusions. I just wanted to get across the street. As we skirted the white sedan, a brick red hatchback honked at us as it came from the other direction. Somewhere in Murphy’s Laws there is one that says that no matter how deserted a street is there will be traffic as soon as you have to cross it.

  “He threw her in the trunk!”

  “Maybe the back seat was full. Maybe she lost a bet. Maybe they’re role playing.” None of that was likely, of course, but I wasn’t going to rule them out. And even if she was dead, that didn’t mean Tevaughn killed her. I was pretty sure he was capable of it, though. There was nothing he’d done so far that would indicate otherwise.

  Half-way across, dodging traffic, I almost tripped on my own feet when a sharp pain hit my arm and my phone began to vibrate in my pocket. Not now, I thought. Damn it. Not now. By the time we got in the van, the rest had their phones out, ready to accept the call from Miss Chiff. Billings watched the Lexus disappear and caught my eye. I nodded, and he smoothly put the car in gear, his eyes glancing toward the image of Miss Chiff on Badger’s cell phone, and started following the Lexus. Whatever Miss Chiff wanted, it didn’t need to interrupt our surveillance. We followed the Lexus, or at least its tail lights, west, out of town again.

  I worried that Tevaughn would notice us. We weren’t exactly inconspicuous in the rolling billboard of a rental van. There was the darkness. To him, we might look like any other van. There had been a few others rolling around. Or he might still be acting on the assumption that we were all dead, lying broken under his expendable wagon in the middle of an abandoned archeological dig. The wagon was one thing, but the thought that he would sacrifice those horses just really horrified me. At least it seemed he wasn’t still living at home, pretending to care for that barnful of livestock. He’d found something more lucrative and more fun (at least to him) and left them to fend for himself. They were still protecting him, though. I supposed that was the force of family in Ireland. The Dunleavys probably didn’t realize they were better off without him. The Lexus stayed two car lengths ahead of us as we spoke to Miss Chiff.

  “Good –“ there was a pause as Miss Chiff figured the time differential, “evening, everyone. And welcome, Miss Rosensglet to the enclave.” We were all seeing Miss Chiff, but according to what I’d read about the new technology, Miss Chiff could see each of us, and we all, of course, could hear each other. There might have been a way for us to see each other, but I couldn’t remember. We weren’t always going to be together. For example, back at the Banshee’s Breath Roxy was on the call, too. We were still in the learning curve on this system, but it was much better than the old days when we had to physically assemble for a meeting. Although I do miss the donuts.

  “Thank you,” said Dinny, most likely from the plane. “Miss Chiff, about the arm implant –“

  “Not right now,” said Miss Chiff, her expression going grim. “We have an emergency.”

  Chapter Four

  “I’m pulling you out of Ireland immediately,” said Miss Chiff.

  Sylvia, sitting right next to me watching the same video feed on her phone, said, “No, you can’t do that. We have a lead now. There’s Uber and everything.”

  The rest of us casually looked at Sylvia, wondering how Miss Chiff would react. On my screen, Miss Chiff raised an inquiring eyebrow but said nothing. “Yes, Ma’am,” I said. “Right away, Ma’am. May I ask why?” Tailing the Lexus, we’d passed the Banshee’s Breath a few minutes ago and Billings smoothly pulled out of traffic and took the nearest opening to make a U-turn. Dead body or no dead body, our plans had now changed. Instead of tracking Tevaughn to what was likely a dump site, or using Roxy’s warrant and heading to the Smoky Flue, we’d be packing up our rooms and checking out. Maybe Team B needed reinforcements in Springfield. The body count was pretty high there. Or maybe something had happened in D.C. while we’d been away.

  “I’m afraid it’s a re
scue mission,” she responded sadly. “I’ve just received word that the CURDS3 has crashed into the jungle shortly after leaving Kinshasa in the Democratic Republic of the Congo. With the CURDS2 grounded for its tech upgrade, I have no one else to send. I’m very sorry about the O’Sheas and your investigation, but it will have to wait. I need you there as soon as possible to search for survivors.”

  “Of course, Miss Chiff. We’re on our way to the hotel now to pick up our things.” I was the only one in the van at that point who had the power of speech.

  “Please see to it that the local authorities and the Chembassy have all the information you’ve gathered.” Miss Chiff sounded almost robotic, as if she had practiced this.

  From elsewhere, we heard Roxy respond. “I’m on it, Miss Chiff.”

  “Excuse me,” said Dinny. She seemed a bit shy about contributing. “Do we know why it went down? Was it shot at?” Of course. She might be serving as co-pilot and didn’t want to fly into a dangerous situation. It had to be hard, too, being suddenly reminded about how dangerous our jobs were. I’d never seen her at work in the cockpit, but to us it seemed like her world was basically serving meals and keeping us comfortable, with the three cats to keep her company while we were gone. My head knew that she bore a lot of responsibility, but it didn’t seem on the same level as defying death the way we did most days. Now here was something that put her on the same level. I wouldn’t be taking the plane ride for granted any longer, whether she was helping fly or not. Maybe I should make a point of getting to know the pilots, too, I thought. I’d heard her talk about Kevin, but I didn’t even know his last name. And there was another pilot, and a few other co-pilots as well that I didn’t know at all. I felt socially inadequate. A coordinator should know everyone at least on some level. But I didn’t have any idea how to do that.