Pulling the Trooth

by Robert P. Wills

  “Later.” Summer said. “My conversation with Earl was very enlightening.”

  “His sketches usually are.”

  “Focus!” Summer shot Stephan a look. “Apparently Stephanie Dixon and Brian Larson are having an affair!

  “What?” Maxine said.

  “Happens all the time at these conventions.” Stephan nodded. “Told you it gets wild at night around here.”

  “But, their affair ended at this conference.” Summer held up a finger. “And apparently Scott had a part in it.” She pointed at the bathroom. “That’s what I call a suspect!”

  “But Scott’s dead. He can’t be the suspect.” Maxine said.

  “The lady has a point.”

  “No!” Summer shook her fists at them. “If they were having an affair and Scott interfered, then Stephanie is a suspect. Her and her big purse. Big enough to hide a knife in.”

  “Well, Brian could be upset that he ended his fun time,” Maxine said. “He could have done it too, you know.”

  “Right!” Summer said. “Of course, Earl told me that there was friction between Scott and Bill, so he’s a suspect too.”

  “Who’s Bill?” Stephan asked.

  “That’s the ringer Doctor Brushwood brought to work on.” Summer answered. “And Scott was mean to Earl also, now that I think about it.” She frowned. “Hmmm.”

  “Your list of suspects is getting kind of long.” Stephan said.

  “Well, I think we should talk to Bill and see how he pans out.”

  “He’s at the Ritz,” Maxine said.

  “Two things,” Stephan said. “First off, I can’t go wandering around questioning people as just a Class-D agent. I don’t even have detention authority. Besides, they pay me to provide security here in the convention center.”

  “That’s kind of sad,” Summer said. She caught herself. “I mean... what’s number two?”

  “He’s staying at the Ritz?” He snorted.

  “That’s what she said. Why?” Maxine said.

  “You’ll see. Oh.” Stephan held up a third finger. “Dinner is at seven, so don’t you two go wandering around town too late.”

  “I’ll make sure I have her back by then.” Summer assured him.

  Stephan held up a fourth finger. “And...”

  “You need to work on your counting.” Summer remarked.

  Stephan reached into his back pocket and pulled out Summer’s digital recorder. “You dropped this.”

  “Oh, baby!” Summer cooed. “How I have missed you.” She reached for it.

  Stephan moved it to keep it out of her reach. “I only have half an hour for dinner. Forty-five minutes, tops, so don’t be late.”

  Summer snatched for the recorder and he moved it again.

  “I’d hate to miss dinner with Witchie Poo.”

  “What?” Summer gave Maxine a double take. “Witchie Poo?”

  “I thought we agreed to discuss that first.” Maxine said sourly.

  “Oh, now I’ll definitely make sure we’re back in time; I got to hear this story.”

  Stephan held out the digital recorder. “Deal. I need to get back to my rounds. See you both at seven.”

  “Tell Earl I said hello,” Summer said with a smirk as she took the recorder. She gave it a smooch then put it in her satchel.

  “I will... I mean, I probably won’t see him.”

  Maxine frowned. “You two.”

  “Let’s go, Maxie.” Summer held out her hand. “Want me to pull you to the taxi stand?”

  “I’ve been pulled around quite enough today, thank you very much.” Maxine started down the escalators toward the exit.

  “See you.” Summer pointed at Stephan. “Seven o’clock sharp.”

  “Right.” Stephan turned and walked off.

  FIFTEEN

  Summer stood by the curb and raised her hand toward the small lot where the taxis were parked a few dozen yards from the main entrance.

  Within moments, one of the taxis pulled in front of the convention center. Summer opened the door and gestured for Maxine. “After you, Miss Witchie Poo.”

  Maxine shook her head. “That man.” She slid across the seat.

  Summer sat beside her. “Why is he calling you that?”

  “I may have hit him in the head with a broom while we were in the hallways of doom.”

  “You hit him with a broom?” Summer laughed.

  “Twice, actually.”

  “That’s great.” Summer continued to laugh.

  The old man behind the wheel pivoted around. “Ladies, I’m glad you’re enjoying your time but the meter is running so you should tell me where you want to go.” He turned around, preparing to drive.

  “Oh, sorry.” Summer patted the back of the driver’s seat. “Please take us to the Ritz.”

  The man turned back around. “You’re staying at the Ritz?”

  “No.” Maxine said. “We’re going to meet someone there.” She shrugged. “I don’t think our editor would ever put us up in the Ritz.”

  “That’s good to hear.” The man nodded as he turned back around. “Keep the doors locked until we get there.”

  “Okay?” Summer said, confused. She locked her door.

  “We’re off.” The driver pulled away from the curb and into traffic with a squeal of his tires. “So where are you ladies visiting our fine town from?”

  “Oh, we’re locals,” Summer said. She held her press pass so the driver could see it in the mirror. “We work for the Tucson Herald Opinion. We’re covering the convention.”

  “You don’t own a car?”

  “Nope.” Summer said.

  “Huh.”

  “She owns a Jeep, Sir.” Maxine said. “She won’t refer to it as ‘a car’.”

  “They’d kick me out of the Jeep Club if I did.”

  “So why aren’t you driving your Jeep?”

  “Because our editor will reimburse us for taxi receipts, but he refuses to put gas in my poor little Wrangler.”

  Maxine leaned forward. “That’s because it gets thirteen miles to the gallon on a good day.”

  The driver laughed. “That’s about what my old Jeep used to get.”

  “You owned a Jeep?” Now Summer leaned forward.

  The man shook his head. “Nope.” He raised his head and smiled into the mirror.

  “Oh.”

  “The Army owned the Jeep; they just let me drive it,” the man explained.

  “Nice; an old Willys. They are classics.” Summer said. “I’d love one to run around town in. They make it hard to put the windshields down in the new ones.”

  “I see.”

  “So you were in the Army?” Maxine said.

  “Yup. Vietnam, Desert Storm, Kosovo. Retired a Command Sergeant Major. Ran the Signal school as my last position. Thirty one years in all.”

  “Wow.” Maxine said. “That’s a long time.”

  “Not long enough, it seems.”

  “How so?”

  “I retired in August... of 2001.” The man said.

  “Holy cow! That was close.” Summer said.

  The taxi stopped at a red light. The man turned around to look at them. “It was the worst day of my life; everyone I knew was going to war and I was at home. It was tough.”

  “Thanks for your service,” Summer said. “My dad served eight years in the Army.”

  “Good for him.” The man looked forward. “Does a person good to serve others in one manner or another.”

  “So you retired and now you drive a cab?” Summer said.

  “Something like that.” The man said. He looked out his side window. “Something like that.”

  “Oh, you can’t just say that to a reporter.” Summer said. “Sounds like there’s more to the story.”

  The man nodded. “Heard of Agent Orange? Gulf War Syndrome?”

  “Sure.” Summer said. “Oh no; are you sick?”

  “Nope. Not one bit. Not a scratch. Jungles of Vietnam, three tours. Desert Storm on t
he ground setting up antennas breathing burning oil fiends for a month, Kosovo monitoring the border with burning trash everywhere. Nothing.”

  “That’s great,” Summer said.

  “Then I retire and Maggie gets lymphoma.” He turned around after stopping at another red light. “Lymphoma. Six months later, she’s gone.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” Summer said. “That’s terrible.”

  “Yeah, I was in a bad place. A real bad place.” He shrugged. “Son took all my guns out of the house. Took my car keys too.” He chuckled as he turned back around. “Thought I’d just drive out into the desert and die.”

  “Oh no.”

  “So a few months later, instead of calling him to get to a VA appointment, I called a cab.” He smiled. “Another vet was driving. We talked the whole way. Said I needed to get out of the house, talk to somebody. Anybody.” He patted the dashboard. “So I started driving this cab. It gets me out of the house and lets me talk to folks.” He smiled.

  The car behind him honked when the light changed. “And it lets me yell at people without anyone thinking a second thought about it.”

  The car honked again.

  He leaned out the window. “I’LL GO WHEN I’M GOOD AND READY!” He bellowed, then he smiled into the rearview mirror. “See? It’s practically expected from a cabbie.”

  As the car honked again, he hit the gas, squealing the tires as he left. “Driving a cab is great stress management.”

  Summer laughed as she was pushed back against the seat. “I see.”

  “The Ritz is sure far away from the convention center,” Maxine said. “We’ve passed a dozen hotels that would be closer places to stay.”

  “The Ritz motel? Yeah, it’s in pretty far ways off.”

  “Ritz motel? Not hotel?”

  “Honey, it’s not even close to a hotel. Even twenty years ago, it wasn’t a hotel.”

  “I wonder how Bill feels about that.” Summer said.

  “Who’s Bill?”

  “He’s the person we’re going to see, Sir.”

  “Alright, you’re going to have to call me Benny or Benjamin or Ben. No self-respecting Command Sergeant Major, retired or not, can allow themselves to be called ‘sir’.”

  “Okay, Benny,” Summer said. She looked out the window. “I don’t think I’ve been to this part of town ever.”

  “That’s because there are no mud pits or piles of rocks for your Jeep.” Maxine said.

  “There’s plenty of mud during the monsoons,” Benny said. “If you come back, just remember to keep your doors locked.”

  “Even in the daytime?”

  Benny looked at Maxine in the mirror. “Young lady...”

  “Maxine,” Maxine interrupted.

  “Maxine,” Benny continued without missing a beat, “let me put it to you this way; even at this time of day, I’m going to wait for you two because it would be wrong to just leave you out here.”

  “Eeesh,” Summer said. “Bill is going to be pissed.”

  “Well you can find out for yourself.” Benny turned right into a parking lot. There was a large dingy sign above the lobby with ‘The Ritz’ in pink letters. None of the neon around the letters worked. “Welcome to the Ritz.” He pulled into a parking spot in front of the dilapidated lobby. He turned around in his seat. “That’ll be twenty-one dollars and eighty-three cents.”

  “Wow. Eddie isn’t going to be pleased if this story doesn’t pan out.” Summer handed her business card to Benny. “Please add fifteen percent to it.”

  Benny turned around and inputted the amount into his meter. “That makes it twenty-eight, twenty-seven.”

  “Ooh, Eddie’s going to be upset.” Maxine said. “Make sure I’m around when you give him this receipt.”

  Benny turned around and handed Summer her credit card. “You’re going to spend a buck a minute with me waiting for you. Tell you what, I just finished my sandwich. I’ll go off duty while you’re here and go across the street to have a piece of pie and a coffee. That way you can take your time.” He pointed at the diner across the street. “Just walk over when you’re done. How does that sound?”

  “That sounds good, Benny.” Summer unzipped her satchel and handed him a five dollar bill. “For the pie and coffee.”

  “That’s not necessary,” Benny said. “At all.”

  “I insist. It’s really nice of you to wait.”

  “I would just sit and wait here but if I’m on duty, they’ll get upset if I’m just sitting in town.” He tapped the meter. “And they always know where I’m sitting.” He sighed then took the bill. “See you next door.”

  “Thanks.” Summer got out of the cab. “Let’s go Maxie.”

  Maxine looked out the window at the dingy street. “I haven’t had a tetanus shot lately; maybe I’ll just stay here.”

  “Come on, don’t be a baby.” Summer closed her door.

  Maxine got out of the cab. “Don’t abandon us, Benny. I’ve got a date later on tonight.”

  Benny waved out of the window as he backed out. “Never leave a troop behind.”

  The pair watched Benny back out, drive across the street, and park beside the diner.

  “That’s comforting.” Summer said.

  “Yeah, and if we want a nap,” Maxine pointed at the motel’s sign. “We can rent a room by the hour, day, or week.” She perked up. “Oh look, they have color televisions.”

  “Oh, Bill is really going to be pissed.”

  Maxine smiled wide. “Right? Let’s go see him!” She grabbed Summer’s hand and pulled her toward the lobby door. There was chain link fencing attached over the glass on the door. “How quaint. I love post-apocalyptic décor.”

  “So this is what this is like,” Summer said, looking at her hand.

  The pair barged into the lobby. The grungy lobby.

  The young man behind the counter continued to look down at his phone, engrossed in whatever game he was playing.

  “Ah-hem,” Summer said, clearing her throat.

  The man looked up at them with a bored expression. “Ladies.” He looked at their hands- which were still together. “Room by the hour? That’s twenty dollars.”

  “Twenty dollars?” Summer said. “What if we want it for the night?”

  “That’s thirty two.”

  “We don’t need...” Maxine started.

  “That seems like a pretty slow climb from one hour to twenty four.”

  The man stared at Summer for a long moment. “It’s not really twenty four hours, if you think about it. You two are here at one in the afternoon. If you get the room now, check out is nine tomorrow morning, so that’s...” He paused as he did the math. “Twenty hours. If you stay even an hour past checkout that’s another thirty two dollars.”

  “Huh, I never thought of it that way.” Summer said.

  “And, no matter what, the sheets need swapped and the room serviced, so that’s where most of the cost goes.”

  “See?” Summer nudged Maxine with her shoulder. “They change the sheets with each guest.”

  “Listen,” Maxine said. “We’re just looking for a man staying here. Bill Volker.”

  “Pimp?” The man asked.

  Summer smiled. “No, no; we’re freelancers.”

  “Summer, be serious!” Maxine let go of her hand. “This is bad enough...”

  “Summer? Is that your stage name?” The man asked with a smirk. “You sure look like a warm summer breeze...”

  “What?”

  Now Maxine smiled. “Oh okay, now this is getting good.”

  “What room is Mister Bill Volker in?” Summer asked testily.

  The man leaned forward and looked at the dog-eared paper registration book. “He is in suite one twenty one.”

  “Suite?”

  The man nodded at Summer. “We’re a classy joint, you know.”

  “Oh, I know.” Summer said. “Let’s go, Maxie.” She turned and left, Maxine right behind.

  The man leaned forward
to watch the two very pretty women leave. “Nice view. Good for you, Mister Volker.” He said as he leaned back and went back to playing games on his phone.

  The pair walked around the corner of the lobby to where the first floor rooms started.

  “Do you have a plan?” Maxine asked.

  “We knock on his door, ask him about why he and Scott don’t get along.”

  “Ahh, the accusatory approach. That’s always fun.” Maxine said.

  The pair started down the covered walkway toward the man’s room. When they got there, Summer turned on her digital recorder, dropped it in her shirt pocket then knocked on the door.

  “But the only person who said that he and Scott didn’t get along was Earl. What if Earl is the one who killed Scott and he’s just throwing us off track?”

  “I don’t think Earl is capable of killing anyone. I mean, I just bumped him joking around and he completely freaked out.” Summer knocked on the door again. “Stabbing someone is up close and personal.” She banged on the door with her fist. “Hello! You in there? Housekeeping!”

  Bill flung the door open. “What? What!”

  Summer stepped back. “Sorry to bother you, Mister Volker. But we...”

  “Oh, it’s you two!” He said as he recognized them. He let out a long sigh. “So are you here to do a story on the sucker that was duped yet again?”

  “What? No.” Summer said. She smiled. “Can we come in?”

  Bill looked into his room and let out a sigh. “I guess so.” He stepped to the side to let the two women in. “Come on in, I suppose.”

  SIXTEEN

  Summer looked around the room- it was at least marginally a suite because it had not only a tiny kitchenette, but a small siting area next to it as well as the bed on the far end of the room. There was even a half-wall partition between the sleeping area and the sitting area. “Huh.”

  “Huh, what?” Bill said.

  “Huh; this is indeed technically a suite.”

  “Oh, hah hah.” Bill folded his arms. “So funny.”

  “I’m sorry, Bill.” Summer said. “We just wanted to do a quick interview if that’s okay.”

  “Is it about how I want to kill Terrance?” He curled his fingers like he was strangling someone, “I’d love to just squeeze the life out of that skinflint, mister king of the I-five corridor.” He tightened his fingers. “Just to watch his eyes bug out of his head.”