New Man in Town

by Edward Kendrick

  “This is just a ruse, right?” Kingman asked. “You didn’t really find something.”

  “Believe me, if I had you’d have been the first one to know.”

  “Are you going to brag about whatever it is, or keep it to yourself during this charade?”

  “Since I haven’t a clue what it could be, and I don’t want to suggest something he knows he didn’t have with him, I’m going to play coy if anyone asks.”

  Garry spoke up, saying, “Once he starts rattling on about how what he’s found that could lead to the killer, I’m going to get pushy about his handing it over to you as soon as possible, sheriff.”

  Wylie grinned, even though this part was new to him. “That should work and force him to deal with me tonight.”

  “If he’s there,” Kingman pointed out. “If he’s not…”

  “This is a small town,” Carl replied. “Trust me; the word will get out fast and you know it. Everyone wants the bastard caught before he grabs another girl, so phones will be ringing even before Wylie gets home.”

  “You’re right, of course.” The sheriff shook his head. “You wouldn’t believe the number of tips I’ve gotten, most of them so far out as to be ridiculous. I, or my deputies, checked them out, anyway. None of them has led to the killer.”

  “The joy of police work,” Wylie said dryly.

  “Yeah, and at the moment…”

  “We’re in the way of whatever you need to do next. Got it.” Wylie stood, quickly followed by Garry and Carl. “Thanks for agreeing to help out.”

  Kingman snorted. “More like you bullied me into it, but if it works it’s worth it.”

  “It will,” Wylie replied, almost under his breath. “It has to.”

  * * * *

  When Wylie and his friends arrived back at his house there was a package sitting on the front porch. From the return address, he knew it was the security set-up he’d asked John to send him.

  “Do we get to watch you install it?” Carl asked.

  “Sure, if you want. It’s not going to be all that entertaining.”

  Several minutes later, Carl agreed it hadn’t been, grousing, “I was expecting cameras and motion detectors all over the place.”

  “That would be overkill,” Wylie replied. “I…we need to be alerted when he opens a door or window, and which one. What I installed will do that once I program in the phone numbers.”

  There were two keypads to arm and disarm the system, the primary one in the closet under the stairs, wirelessly connected to the second hidden in a cupboard a few steps from the back door. When he’d entered the information, he called Kingman to let him know he was going to test the system, turned it on, and then opened the front door. His phone vibrated, telling him the security had been breached. He heard Garry’s ring at the same moment and got a nod from him that it had alerted him, as well. Wylie turned the system off and moments later got a call from Kingman that things were working on his end.

  “Now what?” Carl asked.

  “I’m leaving,” Garry replied. “I promised I’d be at work by dinnertime and I have to change into something more presentable than jeans and a sweatshirt.”

  “We’ll see you, probably in an hour or so,” Wylie told him.

  “Don’t come in together,” Garry cautioned before giving Wylie a fast hug and a slightly longer kiss.

  Wylie returned both before promising they wouldn’t, then let Garry out.

  “You two are a cute couple,” Carl commented.

  “Cute?” Wylie cocked an eyebrow.

  “Okay, handsome, or whatever, but you are. It’s about time Garry found someone. Honestly, everyone was beginning to give up hope.”

  “Good lord. Don’t tell him that.”

  Carl grinned. “I won’t. Don’t want to embarrass him. I’d better get out of here, too. I’ll wait until around seven to show up at the restaurant.”

  After checking the time, Wylie replied, “It’s just five, now, so that works.”

  As soon as Carl had left, Wylie fixed a simple supper. When he took the first bite his stomach rebelled, letting him know he was a great deal tenser than he’d thought. He forced himself to eat, anyway, because he knew he’d be drinking later. More like pretending to, although I can’t totally fake it. Whoever’s there needs to think I’m overdoing it.

  Chapter 14

  Wylie arrived at the restaurant a few minutes after seven, parking in one of the few vacant spots in the lot beside it. It must be busy, which is strange for a Tuesday night. Maybe because everyone wants to get the latest news about Emma and figures Garry might know? Guess I’ll find out.

  As soon as he walked inside he saw three of their suspects. Len, of course, was bartending. Frank was seated at the bar, and Dave, still wearing his work coveralls, was standing at one end, a beer in hand. He must have come here the second he closed for the day.

  Wylie started toward the bar when the hostess stopped him to ask if he was going to eat dinner. “You’ll have at least an hour’s wait for a table,” she told him, gesturing at the people seated and standing along the walls in the bar area.

  “Sorry to disappoint,” he replied with a smile, “but I’ve already eaten.”

  She grinned. “You’re going to hang out in there and watch Garry work?”

  Laughing, he nodded. “That’s the plan. Where is he?”

  “In the kitchen helping out because it’s so busy.”

  “Ah, the perfect man. He cooks, too.”

  “Wylie!” She smacked his arm before turning to greet a couple who had just entered.

  He continued on to the bar, squeezing in next to Dave, and ordered a draw. He had barely taken a sip when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning, he saw it was Carl.

  “Move over, kid,” Carl said before greeting Dave.

  “Think they can pack any more people in here?” Dave asked, shaking his head.

  “Yeah, it’s damned busy for a Tuesday,” Carl agreed. “Garry must love it.” He flagged Len down to order a beer.

  “The whole town’s buzzing about you guys finding Emma,” Dave replied.

  “It was luck, nothing more,” Wylie said.

  “I don’t care what you call it; at least she’s alive which is what counts.”

  “True,” Carl agreed, taking a swig of his beer as soon as Len set it down in front of him.

  “Are you eating dinner here?” Wylie asked Dave.

  “Yep. Not in the mood to cook tonight. You?”

  “Nope. I already ate and was too antsy to stick around the house, so here I am.”

  Carl smirked. “Too antsy or wanted to see Garry?”

  “I heard you and him have a thing going,” Dave said.

  Wylie shrugged, taking another drink. “Not sure it’s a thing. We like each other and are seeing where it’ll go.”

  “I owe you a vote of gratitude,” Roger said, taking the just vacated stool next to them. “If you hadn’t found Emma…” He shook his head in apparent dismay.

  “Like I told Dave, it was luck, nothing more,” Wylie replied.

  “Not from what I’ve heard. Someone said the three of you were looking for her.”

  “All right, yes, we were. But it was still luck that we went to that cabin.”

  “It was,” Carl agreed. “It was getting dark; we were about to head home, but decided to check one of the last ones on our list.”

  “Thank God you did,” Roger said fervently.

  “Have you been to the hospital to see her?” Wylie asked.

  “Yes, for all the good it did. I mean, she’s alive which is great, but she’s unconscious and the doctor said that could last for another day. The bastard gave her some…hell, I don’t remember the name of it, but it was a pretty heavy duty date-rape drug, he said.”

  “Like Special-K?” Dave asked. “Hey, hold up, don’t look at me like that,” he said seconds later. “I watched a documentary on TV about how people have to be careful when they go to bars because of weirdoes who spike
a gal’s drink so they can get in her pants.”

  “We watched that one, too,” a woman seated beside Roger put in. “Remember, dear?” She turned to the man next to her, who nodded.

  “It wasn’t that,” Roger said in reply to Dave’s question. “It had a long name. Not that it matters. Whatever it was, it knocked her out big time. It was my fault he got her. I should have made her come stay with me after Nelly went missing, or offered to stay with her.”

  “At least Carl and them found her before he killed her, too,” Dave said, slapping Wylie’s back.

  “Like I said, dumb luck,” Wylie replied, taking another, small drink. How the hell am I going to do this and not really get drunk? It’s not like there’s a potted plant I can dump most of it in, like in the movies. I should have planned better, damn it.

  “Wylie,” the hostess said loudly enough to catch his attention. “Garry wants you in the kitchen.”

  “He needs my culinary expertise?” Wylie kidded, wondering what was up.

  “Or your hot body,” she replied with a wink, earning laughs from the group.

  Wylie rolled his eyes, picked up his beer, and said, “Okay, guys, I’ll be right back.”

  As soon as Wylie got there, Garry said he had something to show him in his office, which was off to the right of the kitchen. When they were inside, and Garry had closed the door, he said, “I had an idea. Give me that.” He pointed to the glass Wylie was holding. Wylie did, and Garry left, returning a moment later to hand it back.

  “Umm, what was that all about?” Wylie asked.

  “I refilled it with non-alcoholic beer. I should have thought of it earlier.”

  “I should have too, not that our plan would work if I’d ordered one.”

  “Exactly. Given the hour, it should slow down soon as far as people coming in for dinner, so I can leave the guys to it and help Len out at the bar. That way I can keep refilling your glass without anyone being the wiser that it’s not real beer.”

  “Great. I considered dumping it in a potted plant to make it seem as if I was drinking fast and hard, but apparently they weren’t part of your decorating scheme.”

  Garry grinned. “I’ll have to consider adding some…or not.”

  “Well, damn.” Wylie moved to him, putting his hands on Garry’s shoulders. “This is going to work, isn’t it?”

  “If you mean our plan, it damned well better.” He kissed Wylie softly. “If you mean us, yeah, I think so.”

  Wylie kissed him back, murmuring “So do I” against his lips. Stepping away, he sighed. “I should get back.”

  “Me, too. I’ll see you in a few.” When they left the office, the cooks looked at them knowingly. “Minds out of the gutter,” Garry said with a grin.

  “Not happening,” Tommy, the older cook replied, grinning back.

  With a laugh, Wylie left. When he got back to the bar Carl and Dave moved to give his room to join them again.

  “If Garry was a woman, I’d probably have to tell you wipe the lipstick off your cheek,” Carl wisecracked, getting chortles from the others.

  “Some people…” Wylie grumbled, taking a deep drink before setting his glass on the bar.

  “Ready for a refill?” Len asked.

  “Not yet, but soon,” Wylie told him.

  “When he is, I’m paying,” Roger said. “It’s the least I can do for his finding Emma.”

  “What about me? I did, too,” Carl said with feigned dismay.

  Dave replied, “I’ll buy your next one, just ‘cause.”

  “Whew. I was beginning to feel neglected.”

  “Now who’d neglect you, Dad?” Owen asked, taking the now empty seat next to Roger. “I’ll buy a round for everyone at the bar since it sounds like we’re celebrating them saving Emma.”

  “He wants to get me drunk so we don’t have to do that job for the Millers tomorrow,” Carl stage-whispered to Wylie.

  “Now, Dad, would I do that,” Owen protested with a grin.

  “In a heartbeat,” Frank replied as he came over. “Smart move, Owen.”

  Shaking his head, Owen flipped him off then took out his wallet to pay for the round of beers Len began setting in front of the men and women seated at the bar.

  General thanks echoed from all the recipients at the same moment Garry walked behind the bar. When he asked, Len told him what Owen had done, and he helped fill the orders, putting a full glass of beer down in front of Wylie with a subtle nod, letting him know it was safe for him to drink.

  Wylie drained the glass he’d been holding, plopping it down on the bar, and picked up the new one, downing half of it.

  “Whoa, go easy, Wylie,” Dave said.

  “I’m only doing like Owen said and celebrating,” Wylie protested. He knew he’d have to have at least one more before he could begin to put their plan into motion.

  That happened fifteen minutes later when he was working on the third beer that Garry had poured him. By then, several people left the bar when the hostess had told them their tables were ready in the restaurant. Wylie was seated between Carl and Dave, with Frank on Carl’s right, and Owen and Roger to Dave’s left.

  Garry was still behind the bar, chatting with one of the customers, while Len dealt with orders from a couple at the far end.

  Feigning being well in his cups, Wylie said a bit too loudly, to Carl, “Did I tell you what I found…uh, no, I didn’t. Probably shouldn’t, either. Not ‘til I give it to our esteemed sheriff.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Carl asked.

  “When we were at the cabin.” Wylie tossed back the last of his drink then called out, “Another one, garçon.”

  Garry came over, frowning. “I think you’ve had more than enough for tonight.”

  Wylie said, “Nope,” at the same time that Carl asked, “What do you think you found?”

  “Something…” Wylie winked. “Something that’ll prove who kidnapped Emma. Stuck it in my pocket and forget…forgot about it ‘til just now, what with all the excitement. Gotta get it and take it to our esteemed sheriff.”

  “What kind of something?” Frank asked at the same time Garry told him he’d better get it to Kingman ASAP.

  “It’s a…a thing the bastard musta dropped,” Wylie told Frank. “Still in my pants pocket. Not these.” He hit his leg. “‘Course not these. In the laundry. Gotta get it out before I wash them. Yeah. Gotta do that now.” He stood, pretended to stagger, and grabbed the back of the barstool.

  “Boy, there’s no way you’re driving home,” Carl said as he got up. “I’m taking you and you can show me what it is.”

  “Uh-uh. Only the sheriff,” Wylie replied drunkenly, starting toward the door.

  “Fuck. Okay, I’m still driving you home,” Carl said as he followed him, gripping his arm when he staggered again.

  Wylie started to protest that he was okay, then shut up as planned, letting Carl steer him to the door. He glanced back and saw everyone watching him with varying expressions—amusement on the faces of people he didn’t know, to frowns or quizzical looks from Roger, Dave, Frank, and Len. He also spotted Alicia and her parents, seated at a small table in the corner of the bar, and wondered how long they’d been there. Not that I can ask them.

  At that point, Owen came over to see if his father needed help with Wylie.

  “Naw, I got this,” Carl replied. He chuckled. “Your old dad’s sober enough that I’ll be fine in the morning to do the Miller job.”

  “Better be,” Owen grumbled before returning to the bar.

  When he and Carl reached Carl’s car, Wylie said, “Think it worked?”

  “You convinced me and I know you were lying.”

  “Great.”

  They kept up the act, with Carl manhandling him into the passenger seat, in case anyone decided to watch from one of the windows facing the lot.

  A few minutes later, Carl pulled into Wylie’s driveway. When Wylie got out, Carl said, “You sure you don’t want me to stick around,
just in case?”

  “Nope. He won’t try anything if he sees your car anywhere in the neighborhood.”

  “Yeah, good point. You be real careful, got it. I like you. I don’t want to go to your funeral.”

  “I don’t want you to have to, so I’ll be very careful,” Wylie replied with a wry smile. “See you tomorrow.”

  “Yep, you will.” Carl waited until Wylie was on the porch before he drove away.

  As soon as he was inside, with the alarm system turned on, Wylie collapsed on the sofa, leaning his head back. Show up tonight, you bastard. Let’s get this over with…now.

  It was almost nine, but he was too tense to go up to bed quite yet so he turned on the TV, turning it off again after flicking through the channels and finding nothing that might hold his attention. He went up to his office, booting up his laptop because he knew the game he was in the midst of would keep his thoughts off everything else for a while.

  Eventually, after beating another level, he decided he should go to bed. I’m still not sure I can sleep, but if our plan is working and he’s watching the house, he’ll be tracking the lights. He shut down the laptop, turned off the office light, and moments later turned on the one in the bedroom. After undressing, he went down the hallway to the bathroom, showered, and returned to the bedroom where he put on a pair of sweatpants. He had no intention of being caught in his briefs, which was how he usually slept. Besides which, it gave him a place to put his phone so that he’d feel it vibrate if and when the killer broke into the house. He turned off the overhead light, slipped under the covers, and closed his eyes, certain that he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep.

  He didn’t know how much later it was when he was jerked awake by the vibration of his phone. It is working. He’s here. He has to think I’m dead to the world. He grimaced. Not the best way to put it.

  He heard one of the stairs squeak as someone came up them and wondered if they were cursing the fact it had while praying that it hadn’t wakened him. Moments later there was the sound of the bedroom door handle turning and then the door was pushed partially open. The light from a flashlight moved quickly around the room to land on his face, blinding him for a second as the person entered.