A Tale of Two Lenores

by Terry Mattingly

  “You are right, Shane. I am worried about him now. Thank you, Mr. Brown. I will let you know how Charlie is.”

  “I’d appreciate that, Mr. Travers. I think a lot of Charlie,” Charlie’s neighbor admits, his voice revealing the apprehension Gerald Brown now felt.

  The trio returned to Charlie’s house. Bill knocked loudly on the door once more. Receiving no answer, he unlocked the front door entering the room first much to his son’s angst.

  Shane had insisted, as they neared the house once more, that he should enter the house first. “I am a cop, Dad. It is my job to secure the scene,” he told his father.

  “I am Charlie’s friend. He will recognize me and not you,” Bill pointed out. “I don’t want him upset any more than he may already be.”

  Bill prevailed. Inside the still darkness of the little house, Shane and Lenore stood silent as Bill calmly announced their presence to Charlie.

  “Charlie, its Bill Travers. I have Lenore and Shane with me.” The house was quiet except for the ticking of a clock. Bill turned on a table lamp just inside the door.

  Light flooded the room and Lenore was surprised to see a tidy, clean room full of antique pieces from Mr. Paul’s house. The tick of a clock came from a beautifully decorated floor clock she remembered sitting in the foyer at the old house. A big screen TV held the place of honor in the room, taking up most of one of the small walls.

  Bill saw her staring at the TV. “Charlie likes to watch TV. He especially likes The Walking Dead and old cop shows. Don’t ask me why.”

  The house consisted of two tiny bedrooms, one bath, a kitchen, and the living room where Lenore and Bill waited for Shane to check out the rest of the house.

  Shane returned to the others and declared the house empty. Charlie B was not at home tonight.

  “Charlie is usually in the house no later than nine o’clock. He watches TV and goes to bed after the news at eleven. Rarely does he deviate from that pattern.” Bill informed them.

  “It is only eight-thirty Mr., Bill. He will be here soon.” Lenore reasoned.

  “Dad, you said Charlie didn’t like to wonder to far from home. Where would he go this time of night?”

  “He could not have gone far,” Bill said. “Charlie does not drive.”

  “Maybe he left with someone.”

  “I would be surprised if Charlie did that, Shane. My guess is that Charlie is roving the grounds of the old plantation.”

  “Should we wait for him to come home, Shane?” Lenore wondered.

  “Yes, but we will wait outside in Dad’s car. I don’t want to panic him.”

  “That will be best, son.” Bill agreed, “If he is out on the old place, Charlie will arrive at his house on the back side and go in through the kitchen door. We just watch for him to turn the lights and TV on.”

  Mr. Brown next door heard of the plan, he suggested they wait for Charlie in his home. “Just pull your car up in my drive and you can wait in comfort. Lord knows I won’t sleep until I know the boy is home. It is not like Charlie to be out this late.”

  Bill and Lenore protested but Shane suggested Mr. Brown’s idea was solid. “You two take Mr. Brown up on his offer. You have an unobstructed view of the front door from here and I am going to stake out the backyard. Can’t miss him if we cover both entrances. A text with thumbs up emoji will be the signal one of us has spotted him.”

  “Spoken like the detective you are, Travers but you forgot one thing,” Lenore told him.

  “What’s that, Collins?” Shane quizzed.

  “I am coming with you.” Lenore folded her arms across her chest, her eyes daring him to argue.

  Travers didn’t bother telling her to stay put.

  The two friends stood close together concealed by an overgrown grape arbor in Mr. Brown’s backyard. From their vantage point, they would see Charlie arrive, if he was over on Twin Maples as Shane’s father suggested. Shane was beginning to despair of Charlie ever coming home tonight. He whispered as much in Collins ear, breathing in her essence, a mixture of her delicate perfume, her shampoo, and the warm sweetness that was Lenore. Why had he never noticed this about her? Her scent is fresh, clean, and natural, unlike Bethany’s. Shane could smell Bethany’s expensive perfume from across the parking lot.

  “If he is not here in five more minutes, Collins, we are heading out.”

  “I agree. It is getting chillier by the minute.”

  Shane put his arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer. “Is it time to say I told you to stay at the house with Mom?” he chided.

  “And miss my first stake out? No on your life, Travers,” she giggled.

  It was too dark for her to see Travers looking down at her with something more than friendship. Travers was enjoying standing here in the dark with Collins close on a ‘stake out.’ This was not his first stake out, but Travers knew this one would be his most memorable. Shane’s breath caught in his throat when Collins shivered and edged closer to him awakening in him an intense desire to kiss this woman. Would Collins return his kiss or slap his face as she did Luis Alvarez? He was not to find out for at that moment, in the distance, Shane noticed billowing smoke and shooting flames.

  “Look, Collins. I wonder if that is the old house?”

  Lenore’s eye followed his gaze. “Oh no. What if Charlie is in there?” She felt the heaviness of Shane’s arm fall across her shoulders pulling her to him. She buried her face in his chest, unable to watch the scene unfold.

  Chapter 17

  Charlie returned to the hideout in the tunnel after the ambulance carrying Mr. Jim drove away. He saw other policemen joining the two with the dog. Casey must remain in the tunnel until the police leave. Charlie knew the policemen would help his friend if he could convince Casey to leave here. His new friend had other plans, however, and Charlie could not talk her out of her plans. She would not go to the police until she had the proof needed that her partner Brad was dead. And, she wanted to catch the men who killed him.

  The two agents had hoped one of the participants at the weekend retreat might let a useful tidbit of information slip once the alcohol flowed and the tongues loosened. No such luck. Casey suspected the presence of newcomer stilted the spontaneity of the guests. She knew some of the visitors were snorting coke, she had seen traces of the drug and razor blade in the bathroom. This was not well concealed, and she left the paraphernalia in place. No need to call them out or raise suspicion among the user by removing or better concealing the evidence. This could be a test of their trustworthiness. She and Brad had searched the house thoroughly Sunday night after the other guests left. The agents did find a small cache of cocaine, someone’s personal stash. If a shipment of drugs is on the farm, the stable must be where the brothers hide the drugs. One stall in the stables was kept padlocked. Brad, managing a quick peek between the door slats one day, said the place was empty. Why padlock an empty stable?

  Brad and Casey did notice increased activity occurring at the stables Friday and Saturday. Their confidential informant had reported such activity occurring before past drug runs. With the stable hands living in the apartment above there was no opportunity to investigate. Until Monday morning when Brad saw both stable hands leave together through the back gate. The two agents were the only guests staying at the farm as the others and the housekeeper left Sunday night. Seizing the opportunity to look around, Brad instructed her to pack while he checked out the barn.

  Casey had finished the packing and was washing the few dishes she and Brad ate from at breakfast when she heard a door open. She continued her chore expecting Brad to walk in any minute and tell her what he found, if anything. To Casey’s surprise, someone came up behind and swung her body around, so she faced the intruder. Larry, the older of the two brothers who cared for the horses, had pinned her against the counter with his bulk and was pressing his mouth against her face and lips. She screamed, kicked, hit, and pummeled, and at her attacker. He was ripping at her blouse, when Casey bit his ear. Larry jerked
her head back with one hand and flicked a switchblade knife open, the point pressed against her face. She tried to turn her head, but his fist tangled in her long hair did not budge. She felt the prick and the warm trickle of blood on her face when his knife made contact. Casey fumbled behind her back for anything on the counter she could use to defend herself. Her hand at last closed around the handle of the heavy skillet she had been drying before Larry attacked her. Her adrenalin pumping, she swung the skillet with all her strength. The man fell backward, stunned. She ran not bothering to look back. Casey trusted her gut. Brad was either dead or injured. Larry would not have chanced attacking her, otherwise. Too late she remembered her service revolver and her cell phone, both items left behind on the counter top.

  Casey could here Larry yelling at his brother as she ran but she did not look back to see if Mitch was following her. She ran into a fence, crawling under it to the property next door. She was on a worn trail, a steep hill on one side and the river on the other. A less used trail ran up the side of the hill. Casey chose the latter knowing the Canner brothers would likely think the city girl stuck to the good path. She took the path, grabbing on small trees and roots to pull herself along until she found her way blocked by a pair of men’s work boots. She was afraid to look up and dared not turn back. Damn, damn, damn, she thought.

  “Give me your hand, lady,” came a gentle voice above her.

  She gazed upward and saw a giant studying her with a concerned look on his face. Her instinct said this man is trustworthy, so Casey made a choice that saved her life. She placed her hand in the giant palm outstretched to her. Thus, she met the man calling himself Charlie. On her feet once again, the man was not the giant Casey first imagined, still compared to her slight frame this Charlie was nothing to sneeze at. The man stood about six feet four if she estimated correctly. Her head didn’t even reach his shoulder.

  “There are men chasing me,” Casey told him between breathes. “They are trying to hurt me.”

  The man nodded his head. It didn’t take a mental heavy weight to see the gash on her face or her torn blouse, she reasoned. Later, Casey regretted the thought.

  “I will hide you, Lady,” he promised. “I know good places to hide.”

  Charlie, for that was the man’s name he told Casey, led the way through a tunnel which ended under an old house. He pushed up on some boards under the house and crawled through the resulting gap. She followed him into the room above.

  “This is a secret room,” Charlie was saying watching his new friend straining through the darkness to examine her surroundings.

  “Is there a light?” she’d asked.

  “No, but I can bring you one,” Charlie assured her. “I will bring you some food and blankets too.”

  “Is there another way in this room other than the tunnel?”

  She watched as the man felt his was along the walls of the small chamber and then light flooded the space as a section of the wall swung outward. A secret room. This is straight out of a gothic movie, she thought.

  “This is the old house on Twin Maples, isn’t Charlie?” she sought confirmation on her suspicions.

  “I used to live here with my Grammy and Mr. Paul. They are both dead now,” he said simply. “Nobody lives here now.”

  “Interesting,” she mused. “Who knows about the tunnel?”

  “Just me, I guess since Grammy died. There is another secret room. Do you want to see it?” Charlie asked, excitement in his eyes and voice, like the kid he still was within his mind.

  Casey temporary forgot her plight as she followed the man through the old house. The place must have once been beautiful, she assumed. When Charlie opened a door in one room, she found herself in a closet size room with a wooden commode holding a chamber pot. Her eyes widened in surprise when Charlie lifted the pot and the wall behind the commode opened.

  She trailed her guide up the ladder steps. This room was about the same size as the room down stairs, but much brighter. A porthole style window in the eave allowed bright sunlight to illuminate the small space.

  “Where does that ladder go, Charlie?” Casey asked seeing a ladder leading to another door.

  “The roof.”

  Noticing a mattress under the eave, she had asked who slept in the attic.

  “This is my secret spot. Nobody else comes here,” Charlie said to, conspiratorial.

  “Charlie can I hide here instead of the other room, please.” She could see for miles from that attic window, and more if she could gain access to the roof. Casey will be able to see the men coming, or Brad if he were able to search for her.

  The man deliberated on her requests before agreeing. Before the day was out, Charlie declared he and Casey friends and swore his allegiance to her. He would keep the lady safe from the bad men who tried to hurt her.

  That was last Monday, a week ago today. Charlie visited Casey daily with fresh food and water. At night, they had a campfire outside in a sheltered area. During the day, Charlie would walk with her around the old farm, always making sure they stayed out of sight of the men next door. He would sit with Casey as she watched the men come and go from the stables hoping to catch sight of Brad. Preventing Charlie from seeking help for her was problematic. She explained to him daily, her friends would come and find her.

  Friday, Charlie brought the injured man to the secret room through the tunnel. That night, she feared leaving the safety of the old house, knowing Larry and Mitch must be looking for her. Who else would do this deed to the elderly man, especially considering his discovering the grave? He said he felt better, and agreed to wait until morning, although the man did not want his daughter worrying. Tomorrow they would need to get help, at least for their patient. Casey was unwilling to give up on finding the evidence that Brad lived.

  With Mr. Collins safely removed from the house, Charlie and Casey watched the stable Saturday and Sunday night for any signs of a drug run or Brad. On Sunday night, a man Casey had not seen before showed up and went into the barn, coming out a few minutes later with Larry who then lit a cigarette. The stables are a smoke-free environment. Mitch claims second-hand smoke is bad for the horses. From her hiding place in the gulley Charlie had put her, she caught enough snatches of conversation to know the man was angry at Larry. She heard him say something about the dead FBI agent. Her hopes disintegrated, sob caught in her throat. Brad is dead. Tomorrow, she would leave.

  Charlie didn’t get to the farm until later in the day than usual. Casey, dragged down by her despair, barely noticed. When Charlie finally arrived through the tunnel and joined her in the attic, it was unsafe to leave her hiding place. Larry and Mitch were searching the grounds on four-wheelers. She and Charlie will need to wait for the cover of darkness. The brothers called off their search with four-wheelers when darkness descended upon them. Time to go Charlie insisted. The made their way through the dark dampness of the tunnel. Keeping to the woods, Casey followed Charlie until he stopped dead in his tracks, causing her to bump into him.

  “What is it, Charlie?” she whispered.

  “The fire.” Charlie croaked. “They are burning down the old house.”

  They knew we must be hiding in the house. “Charlie, they think we are still in the house and are trying to flush us out.”

  Charlie, riveted to the spot, watched has his beloved Twin Maples burned to the ground.

  Taking gently hold of his arm. Casey urged Charlie forward. “Charlie, we must hurry before they realize we aren’t in house.”

  They were within a few yards from the back entrance to Charlie’s small house when a man stepped out of the darkness and spoke.

  “Charlie, it is Bill Travers. I have been waiting for you; I have news of our friend Jim.”

  Chapter 18

  Lenore and Shane searched the field, hoping for a glimpse of Charlie B.

  “Look, Leni. Charlie is okay, see?” Shane pointed to the couple racing the last few yards through the field. “He is not alone.”

  Leno
re sent the message text to Mr. Bill who now stood in front of Charlie and his companion. Shane slowly edged out of the shadows, preparing for what he did not know.

  Casey started to turn and run from the direction they had just come from, when the man first spoke. Charlie grabbed her arm, rooting her to the spot.

  “No Casey, Mr. Bill will help us.” Charlie spoke reassuring. “He is the friend Mr. Jim told you about.”

  Had Charlie had led her into a trap? Casey, still poised to run, surveyed her surroundings. Seeing two shadows behind them, she felt cheated, betrayed. How could her Charlie do this to her?

  Charlie was speaking to the man now. “My friend Casey needs help, Mr. Bill. Bad men are chasing her and one of them hurt Mr. Jim. They are burning Mr. Paul’s house.”

  “I know, Charlie. Shane reported the fire as soon as he noticed it. The fire department is on the way.”

  The man nor the two people in the shadows were making any attempt to close in on her and Charlie. Casey relaxed, only slightly. Maybe this is not a trap.

  “I tried to stop the man from hitting Mr. Jim., but I couldn’t.” Charlie sobbed.

  Casey reached for his hand. “Charlie did everything he could for his friend.”

  “I have no doubt, ma’am,” his voice soft and kind. “Can we go inside and talk, Charlie? I have my son Shane and Jim’s daughter Lenore with me also. Is that ok? They are standing there by the old grape harbor.”

  Charlie’s eyes searched the darkness, picking out the shadow of Shane and Lenore. He let go of Casey’s arm, rushing to the woman. No, this is not a trap. The woman, swallowed up in Charlie’s huge arms, cried.

  Bill unlocked the back door and ushered the group into Charlie’s house.

  “Detective Shane Travers” the younger man spoke, extending his hand towards the stranger. “I sure hope you are Agent Casey Scott. Your brother has been worried.”

  “You talked with David, then?”