Kzine Issue 7

by Graeme Hurry et al.

  ‘Ooh, right. My big brother, the hard-boiled detective. You’ve been doing that for what, a month?’

  ‘I don’t have a license, so technically I’m not a PI, though I’ve been doing the work for close to five months.’

  ‘Annie,’ Dad said, ‘it’s like the warden said. All they can do is watch and see if it happens again.’

  ‘So let’s watch,’ she said. ‘Dad, that telescope still in the attic?’

  I shook my head. ‘Outta your mind, kid. I’m not gonna sit upstairs with you all night lookin at a dark field.’

  We sat upstairs in my old room looking through the telescope at the dark prairie of the Refuge. It was two in the morning.

  ‘This is pointless,’ I said for the thousandth time.

  ‘Shut up.’

  ‘Me shutting up won’t make it any less true.’

  ‘Shut up! I see something.’

  ‘Lotta stuff to be seen. Anything worthwhile?’

  ‘Headlights, a car just pulled over. And there are a couple other lights going into the Refuge.’

  ‘You’ve been looking out there for three hours. You’re hallucinating.’ I laid back down on my bed and closed my eyes, so I didn’t see her whip a book at my gut. ‘Oof!’

  ‘Come look, jackass!’

  ‘Fine. But then I want to go to bed.’

  I hobbled over. I looked for a few seconds before I saw tiny spots of yellow lights flickering in one of the darkest dark patches. ‘Oh my. Okay, here’s what we do. Lock it in place, go to bed. We’ll check the location when it’s light and see what we can see.’

  What we saw was that tiny grove by where Rusty found the carcass. We sandwiched up, stuck water bottles in our pockets, and headed out to be nosey. We tromped around in the woods for close to two hours, mostly to convince ourselves that we were indeed dedicated and brave and wouldn’t let a little failure stop us.

  We found jack.

  ‘You know,’ Annie said, ‘a real detective wouldn’t give up this easy.’

  ‘A real detective’s sidekick wouldn’t hound him,’ I snapped.

  She glared at me and stomped ahead. It was just as well. Neither of us was really in a talking mood. All our time pacing back and forth on the edge of the woods had yielded only a few piles of deer droppings and preachers’ lice in our shoelaces. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast and it was nearer to supper than it was to lunch. Dammit, I was out here to relax, not go tromping around the woods looking for… what, exactly? Footprints? Distinctive cigarette butts? A conveniently dropped business card from Villains R Us? I didn’t know. We had seen something, didn’t know what exactly, and thought who knows, might be exciting. But with very few exceptions, private detecting is not exciting. A real detective knows that.

  I caught up with Annie a couple minutes later. ‘Sorry. I shouldn’a snapped at you.’

  She shrugged. ‘It’s okay.’

  ‘Look, I get it. You wanted to spend some time with your biggest, handsomest brother so you hire a couple goons to kill a deer and play flashlight tag out in the woods. Really, I would’ve been okay with bowling.’

  ‘You’re such a dork.’ She shouldered into me and I just missed smacking into a tree.

  ‘Hey! I’m old, you’ll break me.’

  ‘I wonder if they’re out here much.’

  ‘Who, your goons?’

  ‘The goons. I wonder if the flashlights last night were the poachers.’

  ‘Psh. Who knows. We’d have to actually see someone before we could make that call.’

  ‘I wonder if we could use Darren’s camera.’

  ‘Darren?’

  ‘Yeah.’ She may have been blushing, but it was hard to tell since her face was already flushed from the cool wind. ‘He’s a boy in my class. We have Environmental Science together.’ Unless something had changed since the time I was in high school, ‘Enviro’ was the ultimate slacker class. Students got permission to drive off campus for two hours, three times a week in order to perform water testing. I had it on good authority that all four of my small graduating class’s pregnancies had their very first moments in ‘water testing’ time. ‘He’s all into hunting and stuff and he was telling me about this camera that you hide out in the woods and it takes pictures of anything that walks by.’

  ‘Oh. A do-it-yourself sasquatch ambush.’

  ‘Sure. I’m gonna see if he could bring it out. Maybe we could set it up out here and catch our goons.’

  ‘That’s gotta be ten different flavors of illegal. But why not.’ At least I’d get a chance to fulfill my dreams of terrorizing a teenage boy with ideations about my sister. Sounded fun.

  To my dismay, Darren turned out to be a perfectly upstanding young man, one whose interest in Environmental Science was entirely motivated from a concern for animals and plants, the green things of the earth. Not a chance to go smoke said green things. He was big-boned and soft-spoken in that peculiar way that only farm boys can be. Blushed like crazy every time Annie looked his way too.

  ‘See, all you gotta do is go back here,’ he flipped the Kleenex-box-sized unit on its front and undid a couple clips on the back, ‘adjust the settings – you know, timers, number of pictures, all that – and you’re golden.’

  ‘We stick it in a tree, or what?’ I asked.

  ‘Yup. What are you guys trying to get a picture of, anyway?’

  ‘Um. Trespassers,’ I said. ‘Been finding beer cans out in the woods and stuff.’

  He glanced up at Annie, concerned. She shook her head slightly.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘We’re doing a sort of project in the Refuge. Don’t worry. My brother is a compulsive liar. I’ll get it back to you in a couple days.’

  Darren left. I turned to Annie. ‘Dad know you’re doing that?’

  ‘Doing what?’

  ‘Please. Who gets you the stuff?’

  ‘Darren’s cousin. Look, we don’t do anything bad. I mean, other than that. We have designated drivers, no one gets super drunk, we’re fine.’

  ‘What’re you drinking?’

  ‘Mic Golden, mostly. Some Bud.’

  ‘Dad would string you up if he heard you were drinking that swill. Dark ales, that’s what you want. I’ve done much worse, okay? Just don’t get stupid. I’m too young to be an uncle. And you’re too young to have a funeral for.’

  She smiled. ‘Don’t worry. I’m not a thrill-seeking personality. The internet told me I was more stable than average for my age.’

  ‘Whatever. Let’s set this thing up.’

  We did, and decided that since we had our sasquatch ambush up we didn’t need to spy through my window. We got a halfway decent nights’ sleep.

  The next morning, Dad pounded on my door. ‘Wanna go to an auction with me?’

  ‘God, Dad. What time is it?’

  ‘Six. I made coffee.’

  ‘Anything other than tractors there?’

  ‘It’s an estate sale. Ad said there was a whole bunch of old books.’

  ‘Ooh! Yes. When are you leaving?’

  ‘Soon as you’re ready to go.’

  I got ready and slipped a note under Annie’s door before we left, asking her to check the cam at some point if I didn’t get back until late.

  The old books turned out to be several hundred Reader’s Digest Condensed Novels – useful if you run out of wood to burn or need to prop something up, but that’s about it. So I spent the morning pretending I knew what Dad was talking about when he explained this about an old tractor and that about a band saw. He was launching into his speech about two-cylinder versus four-cylinder when I got a text from Annie.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  I shoved my phone back into my pocket. Dad was digging around in a box lab
eled ‘Misc. Home Goods.’ He motioned me over. ‘See this music box? My grandma had one of these.’ He glanced around, then opened it. It played some tinkly little tune while a sparkly little ballerina did dainty little spins.

  ‘Uh. Okay.’

  ‘Look.’ He closed the top and turned it over. On the bottom edge was a seam, barely visible. He slid the bottom panel away to reveal a freaking adorable little revolver. It was about six inches long, black-handled and blued-steel-barreled. The hard rubber grips had an owl face on either side. ‘That’s an Iver Johnson .32. Basic, cheap little self-protection gun from about a hundred years ago. Extremely inaccurate, small caliber, no use other than shooting someone at extremely close range.’ He shut the panel and stuck the box under a couple of Condensed Novels. ‘You carry a gun in your line of work?’

  ‘I haven’t been, don’t have a concealed-carry permit, but I can’t say it would be an altogether bad thing.’

  The auctioneer came to that lot next. Most of the people bidding were focused on an antique writing desk, so once that sold there were three people picking over the junk. Dad got four boxes of ‘Misc. Home Goods’ for ten bucks, including the one with the .32.

  As we were loading them into the back of Dad’s Explorer, Annie texted me.

  When I got back, Annie, Darren, and I looked over the pictures. There were two of deer, one of a skunk, and one of a man looking over his shoulder, profile bright white against the backdrop of dark trees, soup-strainer moustache clearly visible. He carried a dark-colored gym bag. The next picture, time-stamped four minutes later, showed the same man – undoubtedly the warden – walking in the opposite direction empty-handed. Then there were ten pictures of a couple bunnies gettin it on.

  ‘That’s the guy who checked on our poaching call,’ Annie said.

  ‘Yeah. What was his name? Fitz-something?’

  ‘Kilpatrick,’ Darren said. ‘Jim Kilpatrick. Goes to my church.’

  ‘What do you suppose the bag is all about?’ Annie asked.

  ‘Dead-drop of some kind?’ I said.

  ‘There were at least two different lights the other night. Was that him and someone else, or two completely different people?’

  ‘Should we call the cops?’ Darren asked.

  I shook my head. ‘Refuge is DNR jurisdiction. We call them, Kilpatrick knows something’s up.’

  Annie’s eyes lit up. ‘Can we do a stakeout? We can go find the bag or wait until someone comes to pick it up.’

  ‘You want to sit in the woods all night waiting for someone to just walk by? It’ll be cold as hell, we won’t friggin see anyone anyway, and it’s a school night. You’re not going on a stakeout.’

  She snorted. ‘Like hell. There’s no school tomorrow, remember? You in, Darren?’

  The big blond blushed. ‘Um. No. I don’t think so. I have chores and stuff. But let me know what you find out.’

  Annie promised she would, and went inside to start napping. I pulled Darren aside as he was climbing into his rusty Ram pickup. ‘You know guns, right?’ He nodded. I took the .32 from my pocket and showed it to him. ‘Am I gonna lose an eye or some fingers if I shoot this thing?’

  He took it, opened the chamber, gave the cylinder a spin, looked down the back of the barrel. ‘Looks okay. Pretty old, but well cared for.’

  I nodded. ‘This ammo easy to come by?’

  I watched as Annie shimmied down the tree just outside her bedroom window, noiseless and graceful. ‘My, but you have that down to a science.’

  ‘Nah, that’s a freakin art. I’m sure Mom and Dad know I sneak out, they just haven’t caught me in the act yet.’

  ‘Man, they’ve loosened up. I couldn’t even have my light on at night without them noticing. Seriously, that’s why I’m such a fine, outstanding citizen - they instilled a mortal fear in me when I was a kid. Dad would’ve disowned me if he ever caught me sneaking out or drinking.’

  ‘They’d never disown me. I’m too sweet and lovable.’

  It was just after midnight. The sky was clear, the air calm. The kind of night where you could hear and see almost more clearly than in daylight. The crunch of gravel under our feet seemed to echo off the house, the woods.

  ‘This is a baaad night for a stakeout. We so much as blink too loud, we’re boned.’

  ‘Do you do this a lot?’ Annie asked, her voice low. ‘Wander about in the dark and wait for something interesting to happen?’

  ‘Sometimes. Most of what I do is stuff like background checks and document retrieval. It’s a good day when we can get out of the office and actually tail someone.’

  ‘Did you bring that Red Bull? I’m thirsty.’

  I pulled the slim can from my pocket, handed it to her. Made me feel off-balance, the can’s weight no longer counteracting the .32 in my other pocket.

  We made it to the grassland at the edge of the Refuge, two hundred yards from the trees, found a clump of tall grass to conceal ourselves in, about twenty feet from where we’d set up the trail cam. Annie went all out and stuck leaves and grass in her hat to break up her profile. Every time we shifted our weight, it sounded like every tree that ever fell with no one to hear it had come back with a vengeance. Soon, we were stiff and cold, ready to go back but not willing to be the first to admit it.

  ‘Let’s play Rock, Paper, Scissors,’ Annie murmured. So we did. I was up 35-22 when we heard footfalls. A dark figure crunched past, right along the path on which we’d set the cam. I saw longish hair swishing back and forth. Not the warden, then.

  Annie raised an eyebrow at me. I shrugged.

  Then her phone buzzed.

  ‘Shit!’ she hissed, slapping at her pockets, trying to find the offending device.

  The figure started our way, one arm raised. Moonlight glinted off metal.

  ‘Annie, get down!’ I fumbled the .32 and dropped it.

  Three shots, claps of thunder and flashes of fire from the figure’s right hand. Two of the slugs tore through dry grass. The third made a wet thump in my sister. Annie screamed. I scooped up the Iver Johnson and squeezed off two rounds of my own. The figure cursed and turned to run. I took a couple steps, fired once more. He never slowed. Annie was moaning.

  ‘Okay, God, hold still, where is it?’ I knelt over her, trying to pin her shoulders down so I could see the wound. She coughed and a mist of blood spattered on my face. ‘Oh God, oh God, okay, um. Stop moving!’ I managed to get her to stop writhing, then unzipped her jacket and saw the hole in the bottom of the right side of her ribcage. I took off my own jacket and pressed it on the wound.

  Annie’s phone lay open on the ground. She’d gotten a text from Darren:

  I called 911.

  Small town, everyone knows everyone. First deputy to the scene was the older brother of a classmate. One of the EMTs, an acquaintance from 4-H. The doctor who stabilized Annie and sent her to Sioux Falls via helicopter was the same one who’d treated her for chicken pox and strep.

  A deputy took my statement at the hospital in Pedoka. In that hour long interview, I gave him a bare outline, only mentioning the mysterious lights from two nights before. I saw no need to bring up the warden, or Darren, or the gun. Especially that, the illegally concealed weapon on public land.

  I called Dad from the waiting room. He and Mom had driven down to be with Annie. He sounded haggard, weak, his voice telling every minute of this father’s hell.

  ‘Anything?’ I asked.

  ‘Still critical. They’re in surgery now.’

  We both sat on each end of the line, silent. Nothing to say. He didn’t want to ask me why I’d brought my little sister, his only daughter, out in the middle of the night to a place we knew shady characters to frequent. And I sure as hell wasn’t gonna volunteer that sort of information.

  ‘Hey, Dad, I gotta go.’ Darren stood outside. I went to him.

  ‘Was it me?’ Darren asked, his voice hoarse. ‘I was just… I was curious. Was it me?’ Tears brimmed i
n his eyes as he looked at me.

  I shook my head. ‘No. Look. I brought her out there. It’s my fault. I never should’ve –’ I choked. Dammit, there came my own tears. ‘She’s gonna be okay. She has to be.’

  We sat for a moment, two Baptists in a liquor store the way we avoided eye contact. He heaved a breath, sniffed once, wiped his eyes and was done. I did likewise.

  ‘Can we go out there? I want to see where…’

  ‘Um. Yeah. I think so. Once the cops leave. I was going out there anyway.’

  By mid-afternoon the scene was clear. No cops, no tape, no loitering cruisers. All of the county’s law enforcement was involved in the hunt for the shooter. So something like ten cars’ worth of cops. They’d never find anything.

  We got to the woods and made our way out to the little clearing where all the grass had been trampled by EMTs, deputies, and various other official entities. I looked at the patches of blood and had to steady myself. I had washed it all from my hands, but seeing it again brought the slimy, warm feeling back. I exhaled slowly, wiping my hands front and back and front and back on my pants.

  Darren was stony-faced. His eyes though… Coals, smoldering. The gentle farm boy’s anger gave his eyes a dull glaze.

  I tapped him on the shoulder. ‘Hey.’ He jumped. ‘Come here for a minute.’ I looked for the hollow spot in one of the nearby trees where I had ditched the gun. ‘You’re gonna hafta boost me, I think.’

  He trudged after and dutifully boosted me when I found the tree. I grabbed the .32, reloaded and stuck the empties in my pocket.

  ‘So now what?’ Darren asked. ‘Did you find whatever the warden had?’

  The bag. Duh. I had forgotten about it, what with my sister coughing blood into my face and bleeding in my arms. ‘No.’

  ‘May as well look, right?’

  We walked north from the spot we’d caught the warden two nights earlier, sweeping our eyes across the underbrush looking for the bag. A half hour later, no dice. We spread out more, started looking for less obvious hiding places. Still nothing. I was following a game trail a hundred yards from Darren when he yelled, ‘Found something!’