Bigfoot Beach

by Kristopher Rufty

  Paul felt the cloying pinch in his stomach as it tried to push the pizza up. Those spikes were legs. And judging by the pants that matched Howie's and the other officers, they belonged to a cop.

  “What happened here?” asked Becky.

  The shorter of the two officers, a rotund man with a moustache and a crop of hair lining his bald dome said, “We're not sure.”

  “Hey,” said Howie. “Don't talk to the press. Not yet.”

  “Sorry, Sheriff.”

  “No worries.”

  “Is that your brother?” said the younger officer. He was lanky and tall, super thin arms and bulging elbows that gave him the semblance of Shaggy from Scooby Doo. Slightly leaning forward, he tipped his hat and squinted as if doing so would answer his question.

  “Yeah,” said Howie. He pointed to Officer Shaggy. “Paul, meet Deputy Lillard. He's going to show you the ropes when you start.” His finger moved to the portly man. “And Deputy Blake, who'll probably be sheriff one day.”

  Paul gave them a single wave.

  “So, give me the rundown,” said Howie.

  Blake took a deep breath before starting. “Butler failed to check in. When Junior tried radioing him, he got no response. So he radioed us and asked if we'd come check on him. And that's when we found this.” Even in the guttering pink hues, Blake looked green.

  “Those are his shoes, aren't they?” asked Lillard.

  “Looks like it,” said Howie.

  “What do you think happened?” asked Becky.

  “I'm not doing interviews,” said Howie.

  “Jesus, Howie,” said Paul. “What's up your ass?”

  Becky put her hand on Paul's arm to hush him, but she kept her eyes focused on Howie. “I'm not asking for a quote, asshole, I'm asking because Perry was my friend.”

  Howie exhaled heavily through his nostrils. “Right. I forgot you know his sister.” His nose hissed with another deep gust.

  “And what the hell are those things strapped to his feet?” she added.

  “That is none of your concern.”

  Becky started for the cordoned area.

  “Sheriff Thompson?” called another voice.

  Stopping, Becky looked over her left shoulder. Paul followed her line of sight to two approaching figures. One was a white man, probably in his fifties with tight curly hair. He had on a red satin robe over khaki pants and a T-shirt that had Bigfoot stomped my heart splashed across the front.

  The gigantic black man with him wore a raven black suit and Paul could clearly see the coiled wire in his ear. An earpiece. This man was a bodyguard.

  “Caine,” said Howie. “What brings you out here?”

  Paul looked at Becky. She stepped over to him, leaning close. “Mayor of Seashell Cove,” she said.

  “No shit?”

  Becky shook her head. “Must be really serious to get him out of his mansion.”

  Mayor Caine's hands moved frantically as he talked. “Bubba here monitors the radio chatter for me, listening out for sightings and whatnot. He heard the call and woke me immediately.”

  “Wonderful,” said Howie. He looked as if he was in pain, and Paul couldn't help but to feel sorry for him.

  “It was It, wasn't it?” asked Mayor Caine.

  “You have to be kidding,” said Howie. “If you think I'm going to name Bigfoot as our prime suspect, you're insane.”

  “What else could it be? Look at all the damn prints everywhere? It's gotta be the Sasquant.”

  “Sas-quatch.”

  “Exactly.”

  “The prints are probably Perry's.”

  “All of them? Did you see all the ones over there?” Mayor Caine pointed to a trail of giant footprints that seemed to be going in another direction.

  “I haven't even had a chance to examine the scene yet.”

  Becky turned to face the mayor. “Since our dear sheriff won't tell me, maybe you will. What are those things on the bottom of Perry's feet?”

  Mayor Caine looked at the feet, unbothered by the gory scene. “Those are the Bigfoot sandals.”

  “Caine,” said Howie. “I thought we weren't telling anyone.”

  “What's the point?” said Mayor Caine. “We won't need them anymore since…” He stopped talking when Howie whipped his head around. Paul doubted the politician had even realized how cold-hearted and inconsiderate his words were.

  Throwing his hands up as if surrendering, Howie turned to Officer Lillard. “Take Ms. Aniston back to her car at Walt's Drugstore and get a statement from him regarding what was taken. Then take my brother home and pick up my wife. You can take her home as well, then get your ass back here.”

  “Yes, Sheriff.”

  As Lillard ducked under the tape, Becky walked to the yellow line. “You can't send me away from here. This is the news, pal. I have a right to be here.”

  “Not right now you don't,” said Howie. “I’ve just marked the entire beach as a crime scene. Civilians aren't allowed on site.”

  “Howie,” said Paul. “Come on, man. That's a little harsh, don't you think?”

  Howie stared at Paul a long moment before he said, “I'll catch up to you later.”

  “So you're Sheriff Thompson's little brother?” said Mayor Caine. “I hear you're quite the superstar back home.”

  Paul felt his face twist into a grimace. “That's what they say.”

  The white of Caine's teeth glowed in the dark when he smiled. “It's a pleasure to meet you. I just wish it was under different circumstances.”

  The mayor held out his hand. As Paul went to shake it, his arm was intercepted by Becky. Holding him with both hands, she tugged him away from the mayor.

  “Whoa!” he called, pedaling his feet to keep up.

  “Let's go, Paul,” she said. Nose aimed high, she stomped through the sand.

  Officer Lillard trotted up next to them. “Sorry about this, Becky.”

  “Can't you tell me anything?” she asked, releasing Paul's arm.

  Paul massaged his forearm. It felt sore and burned slightly from her hold.

  Lillard shook his head. “I would if I knew something.”

  “At least tell me what those things on Perry's feet are.”

  Lillard groaned. “I can't tell you that.”

  “You owe me that much, Tony.”

  “Off the record.”

  “Come on.”

  “Damn it, Becky, it's off the record or nothing. This is my job.”

  Becky nodded. “Okay.”

  Paul gave a quick glance behind him. The crime scene was a dim glow in the distance. He saw the quivering flash of another flare being fired.

  “Mayor Caine's cousin works in the special effects business. He contacted him to make some shoe plates that would look like Bigfoot tracks in the sand.”

  “What the hell, Tony?”

  “It wasn't my idea.”

  “But you went along with it?”

  “We all had to. What else could we have done?”

  “Said no.”

  Lillard laughed. “Yeah, right. Sure.”

  “So it was Perry's job to play Bigfoot?”

  They reached the parking lot. Paul was glad to be on level ground again, but still felt a little off-balanced as he walked. He wondered if his equilibrium was off from the rutted sand, or from what he was hearing.

  “No, we take turns,” Lillard said.

  “The sheriff? Was he in on it?”

  Lillard gave a careful, hesitant glance at Paul.

  “I kind of want to know also,” said Paul.

  “Yes,” sighed Lillard. “He didn't have to put on the plates, but he knew. He wasn't happy about it. But just like us, his hands were tied.”

  “So it was a publicity stunt? All those tracks that I took pictures of and wrote stories about were fake?”

  Lillard shrugged. “Not all of them were ours. But, the majority, yes.”

  “Son of a bitch, Tony. Why didn't you or Perry ever tell me about this?”


  “We were sworn to secrecy. It was our jobs if we talked. That's why you can't tell anyone anything.”

  “I feel sick to my stomach,” said Becky.

  Paul felt the same. He couldn't believe Howie had allowed himself to be pushed into something so ridiculously deceiving.

  Did he expect me to strap those things on and walk around in the dark, too?

  Paul felt bad for worrying about that when a man had been killed.

  “So they did this to attract interest?” asked Becky.

  “Tourism. You know as well as the rest of us, Seashell Cove is drowning.” He opened the back door of his squad car.

  Becky harrumphed, then got in. Paul walked over to the car. He was about to get in but Lillard stopped him.

  “You live out off Eastman, right?”

  “Huh? Yeah-I think so.”

  “I'll drive him home,” said Becky. “Just leave us at my car.”

  Paul felt a nervous sizzle in his gut.

  7

  “Sorry, the A/C's busted. You might want to roll down your window.”

  In the passenger seat of Becky's tiny Volkswagen, Paul searched for a button on the panel. Not finding one, he patted around the door until his fingers brushed the crank handle.

  “Yeah, it's an older model,” she said. “Sorry.”

  “No problem,” he said, rolling it down. Cool briny air gusted into the car, stirring his hair. It smelled vaguely of fish and rain, though it hadn't rained all day. “Aren't you going to roll yours down?”

  Steering with one hand, she patted her door with the other. “The cord snapped. I've got half of a two-by-four wedged in the door to keep it up.”

  “Ah.”

  “Yeah.” She sighed. “I know. My car's a piece of shit.”

  Paul laughed.

  “Still waiting on that story to land me a job at a bigger paper, for a better salary.”

  “Then you'll get a new car?”

  “First I'll get a new TV. The car will follow.”

  “What kind of TV do you have now?”

  “It's a thirty-two inch Sony. One of those big tube monstrosities.”

  “Wow.”

  “I know. They said that cable wouldn't work on them anymore because of going digital, but they lied. I can still watch just fine. I rarely use it, so I'm good.”

  Paul tried to move his arm, but his elbow had somehow become wedged between his side and the door handle. He couldn't stretch out in the tight space. “So, did that cop tell you anything about what was taken from the pharmacy?”

  “Yeah. Laaame. I probably wouldn't even cover it, but it's still local news.”

  “Drugs?”

  “No drugs, other than a couple boxes of Tylenol that Walt found torn open on a shelf. Tony said some bandages, antibiotic creams, and the Tylenol was taken from the store. But, from the pharmacy they got away with Triamcinolone, Retinoid, and Topical Treatments.”

  “What are those?”

  “Skin creams and ointments. Usually for Eczema and serious skin rashes and irritations or STDs.”

  “That's it?”

  “That's it.”

  “Weird.”

  “And lame.” Becky shook her head. “I’m tempted to head back to the beach and check things out.”

  “They’ll make you leave again.”

  “Not if I’m hiding.”

  “Where would you hide at there? Not many places you won’t be seen.”

  She seemed to consider this a moment. “True. But I hate not being there.”

  “Want to give it a shot?”

  Her head turned toward him. An eyebrow was raised. “Feeling naughty?”

  Paul felt a flutter in his stomach that burst with warmth before turning cold. “Well…”

  “Your brother would kill you. Besides…Lillard’s on his way to your house. If you didn’t show up, Howie would know.”

  Paul had completely forgotten about Trish being at his house. He wondered how she would react to Lillard’s showing up to take her home. Gunner could watch Natalie, but Paul hated to think what his son would think if he awoke in the middle of the night and found everybody had left. Probably think something bad had happened.

  And he’d be right.

  Paul sighed. “Yeah. Bad idea. Scratch it off the list.”

  “Oh, well,” she said. “We’ll have to be naughty another night.”

  Paul snorted. “Right. Yes. Another night.”

  He felt Becky’s lingering gaze, but when he turned, she quickly faced the road again. He studied her as she drove: both hands low on the wheel, sitting slightly forward, her head leaning back as if she had trouble seeing over the wheel. Somehow she made just driving a car seem adorable.

  “Are you going to write about what the officer told you?”

  “You mean about Perry Butler?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I wish I could, but no. Not yet, anyway. I have too much loyalty to Tony not to make a fuss about it yet, but also a loyalty to Perry to tell the world. One day.”

  “Are they old boyfriends?”

  Becky laughed. “Hell no! I knew Perry's sister back in the day. Perry was her older brother, and I always thought he might be gay, though he never came out or anything. And Tony is my cousin.”

  “Ah.”

  “But I have no loyalty to Thompson. We clash. He lives in the clouds most of the time and I’m stuck in reality.”

  “Wow. He must’ve really pissed you off sometime.”

  Becky wrinkled her nose, baring some teeth. “Damn. If I'd quit forgetting he's your brother, I might stop shoving my foot in my mouth.”

  “So what happened?”

  Becky shrugged. “We just don't like each other.”

  “Seems more to it than that.”

  “We didn't have an affair or anything, if that's what you're getting at.”

  “Not at all. My brother's a lot of things, but he's not a cheater. He's loyal.”

  “Then why do you keep asking me about it?”

  “I don't know—I mean, I'm not used to someone other than me not thinking he's perfect.”

  Becky glanced at him, lips pursed. “Ohhhh, okay. Yeah, I see what you're getting at. And this town is no different. They eat him up, and that's fine, because he's really a good sheriff, but I just don't like him. Maybe it's because he stole my sister's house right out from under me.”

  Paul flinched. House? Did she mean…?

  “Can you believe he would do something like that?”

  “What house? His house?”

  “It's his now. I heard he's going to rent it out. Her husband walked out on her, and she couldn't make the payments, so the bank foreclosed on it. She'd just gotten a better job and moved in with our parents to save up for a deposit to get it back, but the bank sold it at a private auction. I researched it and found it was Thompson who bought it. He knew she was trying to get the money to make a good faith payment so the bank would hold onto it, but...” She shrugged. “Asshole bought it anyway.”

  Paul's mouth felt dry and cottony. “Where did you say she lived?”

  “I didn't. Off Eastman, which is the main road that runs through here, a little lane called Peanut? Don’t you live near…?” Her eyes widened. “No.”

  “Uh…”

  “Are you renting a house from your brother?”

  “Well…you see…” He sighed, lowering his head. “Yes.”

  “Sonofabitch!”

  Stamping the brakes, the tires shrieked. Paul felt himself being pulled against his door. He prayed it wouldn't suddenly spring open and pluck him from the car.

  When the car came to a halt at an angle on the verge of the road, Becky slammed the gear into park. “Get out.”

  “Wh-what?”

  “Get out!”

  “But I'm not sure where I am!”

  “You're not real far, so you'll be fine. Now get the hell out of my car.”

  “I didn't know it was your sister's house.”

  “Save it.
I don't want to hear any bullshit. Now, get out of my car before I use my pepper spray on you.”

  Paul threw the seatbelt off, hurling himself from the car. Before his hand had even released the door, Becky took off. The door was stolen from his fingers, banging shut, as the car sped away from him. He watched the red glimmers of taillights shrink until he could no longer see them.

  He waited a few more minutes, expecting any moment to spot the headlights of Becky’s car coming in his direction. Surely she’d realize what she’d done and come to her senses. No way would she just leave him out here. Alone.

  A few minutes later, Paul understood she wasn’t coming back.

  Standing in the road, Paul looked behind him, then back to the front. Nobody was coming from either direction. The only sounds he detected were the insect life, the very faint slurping rush of the ocean, and his own heavy breaths.

  Can't believe she just left me here.

  Actually, he could understand just fine. He was lucky it was all she did.

  Sighing, Paul started walking, following the route Becky had retreated in. He stuffed his hands into his shorts’ pockets, keeping his head down as wind buffeted his face in spurts.

  After a while, mailboxes appeared on his left. Narrow paths bordered by trees led to hidden houses on his right. No lights seemed to be on anywhere.

  Everyone's asleep.

  He wished he was.

  Should've just stayed home.

  Wouldn't have met Becky if he'd stayed home.

  A lot of good it's done me. Now I'm walking home!

  And he would have been spared the grisly sight of those legs on the beach. They'd once carried a human being around, but now the human belonging to them was nowhere around. Where was he at? No one seemed to care once the mayor showed up.

  But if he wouldn’t have gone with Howie tonight, how long would it have been before he was educated on the mayor’s secret missions? Would Howie have asked him to wear the Bigfoot plates?

  Paul couldn't shake the feeling that something was definitely strange here, and this was more than just the new kid on the block jitters. He'd felt it from the moment the giant Bigfoot head had nearly smashed the hood of his 4Runner.

  What is all this Bigfoot business?

  Keeping his head down, Paul walked against the breeze. He must have gotten closer to the ocean since the wind was heavier and more frequent. Felt as if he'd walked an hour before he spotted something that was familiar. Another bout of walking brought him to where the road forked.