The Barrell, Bats and Bubble Gum

by N. L. Cameron

  “He’s not from town. He’s from Hunterville, and we went on a date last Saturday.”

  I stared straight ahead. “Oh.”

  “He took me to that big new fancy restaurant on the Interstate. I can’t remember the name right now, so I guess that means I had a good time, huh?” She laughed again. “He runs the produce section in the supermarket down there, and you should see his car! He paid for everything, and he even held the door open for me. He’s a real gentleman, unlike these local hicks.”

  “I met someone like that recently. As a matter of fact, he’s our new gardener. Maybe you’d like me to introduce you. His name is Charlie Burgess.”

  Eliza stopped walking to stare at me. “Charlie Burgess?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  She started walking again. “You don’t have to introduce me to Charlie Burgess. I already know him. He’s been staying in that apartment behind my parents’ hardware store. I know him very well.”

  “Then you know what a good guy he is. He’d probably make a much better date for you than what’s-his-name from Hunterville.”

  Eliza sighed. “He won’t make a better date for me because he’s married.”

  Now it was my turn to stop. “He is?”

  “Of course, he is. His wife and kids are still living in the apartment. What did you think?”

  “He never mentioned them. He’s moving his stuff into the gardener’s cottage down by the lake. He never said anything about a wife and kids.”

  “He’s moving his stuff first before he moves them. He can’t exactly uproot them when the new house isn’t ready.”

  I nodded and started walking again. “Of course.”

  I should have known a guy like Charlie would be married. He’s too nice not to be. I really stuck my foot in it suggesting introducing him to Eliza.

  She threw me a lifeline when she interrupted my thoughts. “Let’s talk about something else. What have you been doing besides hiring Charlie Burgess to be your new gardener?”

  “I’ve been looking into the case of Max Nash’s death.”

  She whipped around to face me. “Really? Was he murdered, just like your aunt? What have you found? Can I help? Oh, please, say I can help you investigate. I love stuff like this. It’s like going on a massive treasure hunt, only for real. What have you found so far? I want to know every detail.”

  I laughed. “How long do you have?”

  “All day. I make my own schedule, remember?”

  “Well, I’ve got this guest who’s been acting strangely. Viki Morgan at the dentist’s office told me about a strange man wandering the streets at night, and I found out it was this guy staying at the inn. Turns out Fisk was the one who found Max dead, and Max was working on Fisk’s car when he died—at least, he was supposed to be working on Fisk’s car when he died. Whether he actually ever worked on it is a question only Max could answer, since Sheriff Mills won’t even check Max’s records to see if he did anything on it. Max was found draped over the closed hood of the car. Maybe he never even opened it. I followed him—Fisk, I mean—and I even got Levi to follow him for a while, but we never found out what he was up to.”

  Eliza listened in silence for a while. When she didn’t say anything, I got nervous. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

  “You’re the sleuth here. I’m just the humble sidekick, kind of like Watson to Sherlock Holmes.”

  I made a face, but I couldn’t help smiling. “Don’t let Sheriff Mills hear you say that, and whatever you do, don’t let Levi hear you say it. He would have my hide if I ever styled myself a sleuth.”

  “So, what are you going to do?”

  “There’s nothing I can do. Levi quit following him. He’s certain Fisk is an innocent eccentric, and who am I to argue with that?”

  “Well, maybe you and I could follow him.”

  My eyes flew open. “Really?”

  “Sure. We’ve played Nancy Drew before. What’s to stop us doing it again? We’ll track this guy down and find out where he hides the bodies.”

  “We don’t have to find the body. It’s already been found.”

  “Well, following him can’t do any harm.”

  I grimaced. “I don’t know about that, but maybe you can tell me something else. You know everyone in this town and their most intimate details. What can you tell me about Max’s relationship with Winnie?”

  Eliza groaned. “Not Winnie again!”

  “What do you mean? What’s she done?”

  “Nothing. She hasn’t done anything.”

  “Was she really with him for ten years?”

  “Yes, she was, and she made his last ten years the worst years of his life. Did you ever wonder why he was always so sour? You would be sour, too, if you had to live with that all the time.”

  “I wondered about that, and now she’s hanging out for the will to be read because she wants to take over the gas station.”

  Eliza snorted. “That’ll be the day!”

  “Any idea who he would leave it to if he didn’t leave it to her? Is there any relative or friend of his he might have been particularly close to, someone who might have deserved the station more than Winnie?”

  “I can think of dozens of people who deserved it more than Winnie, but none of them was close to Max. Max wasn’t close to anybody, not even Winnie.”

  “Well, that gets me exactly nowhere.”

  “Nonsense. You’re somewhere, all right. You’re with me. Now where do we start?”

  Chapter 7

  I hovered around the front desk and watched for my chance. When Fisk came downstairs after his morning clothes change, I pounced. “Good morning, Mr. Van Steamburg. All ready to go to the impound yard to get your car released.”

  He gave me a weak smile. “Yes, I am, and thank you, Miss Garrett, for offering to give me a ride.”

  “No problem. Always happy to help. Let’s go.”

  He checked his watch. “It’s only nine-thirty. The tow truck isn’t due to arrive until eleven.”

  “I know,” I chirped. “I was thinking we could go early, just to look at the car. We should check it over—you know, just to make sure it hasn’t been damaged or anything stolen or anything. Just a suggestion. We don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. If you want to wait until eleven, I’ve got plenty to do here.”

  I sat down in my chair behind the desk and bent over the ledger, even though my heart pounded in my chest. I waited for the trap to spring shut. Would it work?

  “Oh, all right,” he replied. “I guess I should take a look at the car. We can go now if you think we should.”

  I bounced up behind the desk. “Great. Let’s go.”

  I hopped into the car with Fisk in the passenger seat and hightailed it down the mountain. I parked around the corner from the police station, and we got out.

  I led the way to the impound lot and knocked on the guard’s window. “Fisk Van Steamburg is here to get his car released from police custody.”

  The guard frowned at his list. “That’s not scheduled until eleven o’clock.”

  “We’re here to check the car for damage and possible theft.”

  He squinted through the glass. “Are you Fisk Van Steamburg?”

  “Of course not, fool! I’m Allie Garrett. That’s Fisk Van Steamburg.”

  The guard tossed his clipboard on his desk and took his feet off it. “All right. I’ll need to see some ID.”

  I motioned Fisk forward, and he got his license out of an old leather wallet from his pocket. He handed it to the guard, but he kept shifting from one foot to the other and glancing over his shoulder. You’d think he was getting ready to steal his own car.

  The guard jotted something down on the list and handed back the license. Fisk returned it to his pocket, and the guard pushed a button. The big electronic wire gate purred open. “Come on inside, and you can see your car.”

  He showed us to the very back of the lot where a white sedan lay nestled among piles of s
crap metal and derelict vehicles dating back to the Stone Age. Fisk hung back, but I walked right up to it. “How’s the tow truck supposed to get it out of here? It’s wedged in like a sardine in a can.”

  The guard threw up both hands. “Don’t ask me. I don’t handle logistics.”

  He walked away and left Fisk and me alone with the car in question. Fisk turned right and then left. “I don’t like this, Allie. We shouldn’t be here.”

  “What are you talking about? This is your car. You’re the legal owner. You can do what you please with it. No one can stop you. Now come on. We’re taking a look.”

  He shook his head, but he didn’t say anything. He refused to look at the car at all, even when I gave up on him and approached it myself. I found the doors unlocked, so I slotted into the driver’s seat.

  What I wouldn’t have given for a fully trained crime scene unit right about now. Sheriff Mills didn’t even bother to dust for fingerprints, let alone look for any other clues. I hunted around the car for what seemed like ages, but I didn’t find anything. I popped the glove box and found a meticulous service record all printed out. Fisk certainly took good care of this car.

  So, what went wrong, that he broke down miles from anywhere in a one-horse town in the middle of the mountains? That gave me an idea, so I bent down to unlatch the hood. I seized the handle and pulled. Nothing happened. I heaved and hauled with all my might. The latch wouldn’t budge.

  I checked under the steering column, but I couldn’t see anything to indicate why the latch got stuck. I climbed out of the car and went around to the hood. I saw my dad do this once, and it worked like a charm. I planted both hands on the hood and shoved down as hard as I could, but I didn’t hear the telltale click that would reset the latch.

  I went back into the driver’s compartment and spent another eternity yanking on that handle, but I couldn’t undo the hood. It was stuck fast.

  I got out and sidled up to Fisk, who wouldn’t stop wringing his hands and biting his lips like a scared rabbit. “Did you know your hood latch is stuck, Mr. Van Steamburg?”

  He wouldn’t look at me. “My what?”

  “The hood won’t open. The latch is stuck. Was it like that when you dropped the car off at Max’s Garage?”

  Before he could answer, the impound gate hummed open one more time, and the biggest tow truck on the planet motored into the yard. It parked in front of the guard’s box, and the driver chatted to the guard about something I couldn’t hear.

  A moment later, the engine roared, but when the tow truck tried to drive into the yard, it got stuck at the first corner. The driver got out and walked over to me. He bellowed over the engine noise, “Where’s the car I’m supposed to tow to Hunterville?”

  I pointed toward the corner. “Over there in the corner.”

  He frowned. I knew just how he felt. No one was getting near that car with a tow truck as big as this. Then he brightened up. “All right. You can help me push it out.”

  I looked around. “Who—me?”

  “You want it out, don’t ya?”

  Did I want it out? Since when did I become responsible for this car? Well, that’s the price I had to pay for getting an up-close and personal look at it before it left town, never to be seen again. If I had to push it a little, so be it.

  I grabbed Fisk. “Come on, Mr. Van Steamburg. You can help, too.”

  He didn’t argue. Good thing, too, or I would have to get tough with him. I hauled him behind the car while the tow truck driver took his position by the steering wheel. I was more than happy to provide the muscle while a professional did the actual steering.

  The driver gave a shout, and I leaned all my weight into the car. Fisk bent his legs, and we both pushed with all our might. I spotted the driver up ahead. He pushed against the door frame, and the car rocked forward. We let it ease back and tried again. This time, it rolled out of place into the open.

  The driver kept shouting. I couldn’t make out any words over the thundering pulse in my temples. I vented all my frustration on that car. I wanted it out of my town and out of my life at the first opportunity. The driver yanked the steering wheel, and the car glided around the corner to stop, nose to nose with the tow truck.

  The driver stood up. “That’s good!”

  I stood back, puffing for air, and Fisk drooped over the trunk to catch his breath. The driver slammed the car door and hopped into his cab. He whipped the tow truck around and parked it hind-end-first in front of Fisk’s car. In two seconds, he hitched it up and craned it off the ground.

  The tow truck driver shot me a wicked grin. “Right! Who’s going for a drive?”

  I held up my hands. “I’m not going. I’m going home.”

  Fisk shook his head. “I can’t go. I don’t have a ride back.”

  “Just tow it down to Hunterville Auto,” I told the driver. “Tell ‘em Max Nash was working on it when he died and now the hood latch is stuck. Give them this number to call when it’s ready.” I handed over a Barrell Inn business card.

  The driver nodded. “Can do.”

  And off he went, just like that. I watched the tow truck out of sight, along with the sedan riding high behind it. When I turned around, I found Fisk looking the other way. “What’s wrong, Mr. Van Steamburg? Your car is on its way to be repaired at last. I thought you’d be happy.”

  “I am.” He didn’t smile, and he didn’t look at me. “I’m very happy.”

  I touched his arm. “Come on. You’ve had a difficult few days. I’ll take you back to the inn now.”

  I walked him back to my car and sat him in the passenger’s seat, but when I took the wheel and buckled in, I spotted Winnie waltzing down the street. I yanked the car to the curb and hopped out. “Winnie! Hang on!”

  She turned around. “Oh, it’s you.”

  “I’m sorry I haven’t had time to see Frank Law yet, Winnie. I’ve been swamped, but I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Winnie replied. “I already went to see him myself.”

  “Really? What did he say? He can’t have read you the will. Doesn’t that have to be done in public?”

  Winnie waved her hand. “That doesn’t matter. Nobody cares about stupid rules like that.”

  “Well, what did he say? Did Max leave you anything?”

  “He told me Max left me something, but he wouldn’t tell me what it was. Isn’t that wonderful? He left me the station after all.”

  My eyes popped. “He did? How do you know if the lawyer wouldn’t tell you?”

  “What else would he leave me, if not the station? I’m planning the whole thing out. I’m gonna open a café attached to the station. I’m going to serve coffee and baked goods and maybe even groceries. No one will ever have to go to the diner or anywhere else in this town. They’ll be able to get everything they need from the station.”

  “Do you really think it’s a good idea to plan all that before you hear for sure that you inherited it?” I asked. “What if there’s some mistake?”

  “There’s no mistake. I’m sure, and if I’m going to make plans, I better start now. You know what they say. The early bird gets the worm.”

  She turned to walked away, but at the last moment, she staggered and teetered. My hand shot out, and I steadied her before she caught her balance. Then she sashayed off down the sidewalk the way she came. I didn’t have the heart to ask if she wasn’t going the other way when she first walked down the street.

  I went back to my car and got into the driver’s seat. Fisk still sat next to me. He stared straight in front of him. “Who was that?”

  “That was Max’s girlfriend. She inherited the gas station—at least, she thinks she did.”

  Fisk nodded. Maybe he didn’t even hear me. I put the car in gear and drove back to the inn. When I parked in the parking lot, I turned to Fisk. “Are you okay, Mr. Van Steamburg? You don’t look so good.”

  He sighed. “I’m tired. I think I’ll go up to my room and lie
down.”

  I blinked at him. This was the first time since he first checked into my inn that he ever mentioned sleep or tiredness or lying down. The concept didn’t fit him at all. I always considered him a limitless fountain of energy. I didn’t think that guy could get tired.

  Now here he sat, totally deflated. That car kept him going. It occupied his every thought and concern. Now it was gone, who knew where? Knowing it was just down the road in Hunterville didn’t matter. He couldn’t obsess about it any longer. It might as well not exist at all.

  He got out of the car and walked into the inn. I tagged a few steps behind until he lumbered up the stairs and disappeared into his room. Watching him sapped my energy, too. Somehow he enlivened the inn as no other guest I could remember. He excited my interest and my sympathy.

  Before I could decide what to do next, the front door jangled open, and Levi came in. He spotted me standing stupefied at the foot of the stairs. “What is it now? Don’t tell me you ran out of gas on the Interstate again. I’ll have to report this to Deputy Leonard.”

  I had to smile. “Can it, Mr. Handyman. I’ve got almost a full tank of gas, and Fisk’s car is on its way to Hunterville Auto as we speak.”

  His eyes flew open. “Really? Wow. Good work.”

  “I didn’t do anything except take Fisk to get it released from impound, and I found out the hood latch was stuck. Don’t you think it’s odd? Max couldn’t have gotten it open to work on it. Maybe that explains why he died lying over it. He may have been trying to open it.”

  “And maybe,” Levi countered, “maybe you’re a woman with an overactive imagination. Maybe Max did something to sabotage the latch so he could charge Fisk more to repair it.”

  I gaped at him. “You can’t be serious. He wouldn’t do that.”

  He nodded. “I know a lot of unscrupulous mechanics who would do that and a lot worse to make a buck. Max wasn’t what you’d call the nicest guy in the world. Maybe he saw Fisk and thought he’d make a good cash cow. Once he fixed the car, he never had to see Fisk again. Fisk would be too glad to leave town to question the bill.”

  I turned away. “I can’t believe anybody would be so underhanded.”