by Randy Rawls
NINETEEN
The sign said, Ranger, Ten Miles. An uncontrollable urge to stop for an early lunch hit me, and I knew where. I pulled off I-20 at the first Ranger exit, and made my way to the restaurant where Terri and I dined a lifetime ago.
I entered and looked about. The booth we sat in was vacant.
The hostess walked over. “One? Smoking or non-smoking?”
I pointed toward the booth. “I’m alone. Non-smoking, please. How about over there?”
She turned in the direction I indicated. “I’m sorry, that section’s not open yet. We’re seating on this side now.”
My mouth took off, spouting words I didn't recognize. “Miss, it’s important I sit in that booth.” My mouth continued without my brain having a clue what might come next. “You see, my late wife and I passed through here six weeks ago and stopped for lunch. We sat in that very booth, the one right over there. That was before, before…” I gave her my saddest look, and mumbled, “Before my wife was killed in an auto accident. So, you see, when I was out this way today, I had to stop here and sit in that same booth.”
The hostess gave me a sad look. “Of course, sir. I’ll open the section for you. I’m glad you weren’t hurt too badly.” Mouth—one, brain—zero. Some days I survive much better if I don’t think.
Apparently, she thought my black eye came from the accident. I said nothing although the look on her face made me feel like a heel.
“And take your time. I’ll keep the tables around you empty if I can. I’ll be your personal waitress. Follow me.” She led me to the booth where Terri and I sat.
I hope the whopping lie I told to get that booth will show you how shook I was. My dreams of Terri and me had burned worse than Sheila’s house. In my new world, there were no chimneys, not even a sink left. I looked for the cherubs who charmed me a couple of days ago—still AWOL, probably KIA by Jake's words.
I remembered Terri and I having an excellent meal with chilled Killian’s in a restaurant exuding ambiance. While I didn't remember what I ordered that night but I knew it was superb. Sitting by myself, I ordered chili, a burger, and a beer. My first beer was warm, the second was warmer, and the third was hot. The décor and ambiance seemed early bus station. But I had plenty of privacy. True to her word, the hostess sat no one near me. She kept a close eye on me, sympathy on her face.
I ate half my chili—no spark—and all the tortilla chips and salsa. The chips and salsa tasted better than the chili and managed to improve the taste of the warm beer. The burger suffered one small bite—tough and tasteless. They didn’t have Killian’s, and I hate warm beer of any kind.
When I paid the hostess who had been my waitress, she gave me a sympathetic look and said, “Life must go on, sir. I hope you find happiness again.” My guilty conscience forced me to leave a large tip. Later, I realized what a funk I had been in—it was a twenty.
The stop of lunch must have helped because my mind drifted back to the case as I drove toward Cisco. I figured I’d swing by the motel first and let them know I’d keep the room for a few more days. Then I’d find some way to kill time until I could hit the Down Home at an acceptable hour. It was still my best bet for finding answers to my many questions. Even if there were no answers, Hojo would have a cold Killian’s.
I stopped in the reception area and re-introduced myself to the young man working there. “Oh, I remember you,” he said. “You’re the one that beautiful woman came to visit. Hope she didn’t give you that eye.” He gave me a leer that would have made Simon Legree proud. All he needed was a handlebar mustache to twirl.
As I turned to leave, he said, “You have messages.” He handed me a couple of yellow stickies that I stuck in my pocket. He looked disappointed I didn’t read them immediately.
I dropped my bag in the room and decided not to unpack. A fast getaway might be required. I flipped on the TV to Fox News to catch the latest Washington scandals and stretched out on the bed. The talking head detailed the latest politician who was under suspicion. I listened for a moment, then tuned out. There were so many scandals, they were recycling. The latest was about someone committing perjury—déjà vu.
The arson and deaths invaded my mind. For what seemed like the millionth time, I started through what I knew for sure and what I could speculate about. Both lists were short. Then, without any help from me, my mind took a hard right and landed on Terri. It started reviewing every word she’d ever said to me. The Sunday we’d spent together took first place. It felt good until I got to the point where she’d dumped me. I realized how she’d known Jake paid me fifteen hundred a day. I had wondered about that, but not enough to ask her. He probably bragged to her he was carrying me because we were old friends, or something like that. It also explained a few other comments that now drifted into my mind that I’d ignored when she’d said them—like how she knew about the nickname Arty.
The realization crept in that she hadn’t dumped me, not in the usual concept of the term. She had simply finished her assignment. It was obvious Jake had assigned her to watch me, to get close to me to find out what leads I was developing. But why? What did he hope to gain? And why did he tell her to turn on the charm? I thought I knew Jake but this was a side of him, a low-down, duplicitous side I never suspected. And of course, I wondered if it had all been an act, or had I affected her. My ego demanded the latter.
At some point, the droning of the talking heads on TV and my frustration at my lack of leads lulled me to sleep. As I napped, a dream ran its video through my subconscious. It was Terri the last time we were together. It started as I met her in the lobby of the motel. I could see our lips moving but there was no sound, the mute button on my dream had been pushed. The entire episode unfolded again, as it had the first time.
As we sat together after the picnic, her volume came on, “My brother, Joey, wanted me to talk to you. He’s worried about you.”
I replied, but my mute button was still depressed. I could only hear her side of the conversation. “He thinks the guy who killed Sonny was gunning for you. He says you might not be so lucky next time.”
Me again, no sound.
“Give it up and get out of town.” Her voice was back on stage. “Let the police find the killers.”
“Go back to Dallas and chase cheating husbands and cheating wives, find lost kitties or something less dangerous.”
“Joey knows the people around here—much better than you do. If he says somebody’s after you, you can believe it.”
The dream faded away.
I woke, wet with sweat although the room was cool. I struggled to sit up and decided I needed a shower and a shave. I looked at my hands and they shook. Forget the shave. In my condition, I might slit my throat—and I use an electric razor. I stepped into the shower and cranked the water up as hot as I could stand it. I hoped I could burn Terri out of my mind and out of my heart. A clear head would help me sort out whatever hid in my subconscious. The water stung and my mind churned, trying to find something—something I knew was there. If only it would come forward. After about fifteen minutes, I stepped out, pink as a boiled lobster.
I decided to head for the Down Home for a few beers. A long talk with Joey was in order. I was still curious about his concern for me, especially since I now knew it wasn’t because his sister cared for me. The dream must have some meaning, something right brain was trying to tell me.
Back in the living area, I dressed. As I pulled on my jeans, my mind drifted to what I speculated was Sweeper’s attack on the intruder in my home. I grinned, knowing the game we had played for the past year had paid off. Maybe Jake was right. I ought to give up this PI business and train watch cats.
I took out the earring I thought had been ripped off by Sweeper. Jewelry for a woman or a toy for a boy—boy, toy, toy, boy. There was that connection again that sounded familiar.
I finished dressing, slipped on my lambskin coat, and fumbled in the pocket for my keys. I pulled out two pieces of crumpled paper—the telep
hone messages the motel clerk had handed me.
I read the first. The call had come at ten-thirty that morning. It was from Terri. Call me. I need to talk to you.
I laughed. I bet she needed to talk to me. Jake must have told her he was going to share their secret. I opened the second note. Four o’clock, shortly before I got back, again from Terri. Call me, please. It’s important we talk.
The second one intrigued me. By then, Jake would have talked to her, and told her he’d confessed their engagement. Why would she call again? I decided to see if the motel clerk could tell me anymore than what he’d written.
I walked into the motel office. There was a young woman behind the counter. “Excuse me. Is the man here who worked this afternoon?”
“No, sir. He works days and leaves at six o’clock. Can I help you?”
“Maybe. I’m in room 101. He took some messages for me today. I wondered if he left anything more?”
She looked around the desk. “No. He didn’t say anything, and I don’t see anything here. I’m sorry… Wait, you said room 101. There’s another message for you. It came in about thirty minutes ago. I rang your room, but you didn’t answer.”
“I must have been in the shower. Who called?”
She handed me the message. “It was a woman. She made me promise to call your room every thirty minutes until I gave you the message. I was getting ready to try again when you walked in.” She gave me a cute little smirk.
I took the message and looked at it. Terri again. What the hell was she up to? “Thanks, miss. I appreciate your help.” I walked from the office to my room, wondering what was going on. Her message read, I’ll be at the Down Home tonight. Please, I need to see you.
TWENTY
I checked the room and debated whether I should carry the Beretta. After arguing with myself for several minutes, I decided to leave it behind. The Down Home should be friendly territory tonight. Besides, I didn’t want Terri to worry I might go after Jake, even if he deserved it.
I stepped out of the room and headed for the Chrysler. As I hit the button on the remote to unlock the door, a shot rang out. I dropped to the ground and groped for my Beretta. Dammit, for what seemed like the hundredth time, it was where I wasn’t. On my knees and elbows, I crawled to the rear of the car, cursing what I was doing to the toes of my boots—again. I rolled over and peeked around the rear tire. A pickup truck spun out of the motel parking lot. As it passed under the light at the exit, I saw it was dark with a white racing stripe on the passenger side. It squealed its way onto Liggett Street toward I-20, cutting off a sedan in the process.
I stood, wondering if I had heard a shot or if I were more paranoid than normal. Maybe it was only a backfire. I decided to humor my paranoia. I went back into the room and grabbed the Beretta and its shoulder holster. I kissed the handgrip, swore eternal love, and promised we’d never be separated again.
On the way to the car, I checked the parking lot, letting the Beretta dangle from my right hand. I might not be sure it was a shot I’d heard, but I wasn’t taking any more chances. From now on, if someone shot at me, he’d better be ready to duck. I approached my car, looking around again. Nothing. No one and nothing moved. “Okay,” I mumbled, “if it was the pickup truck, it’s gone. If it was your imagination, you’re safe. Get in the car and see if Terri’s at the Down Home.”
I climbed into the car and lay the Beretta on the passenger seat where I could grab it. After starting the engine, I exited the parking lot and accelerated onto Liggett. There was a strange breeze in the convertible. When I looked up, I saw the moon through a small round hole in the roof. I knew my paranoia was based on a strong foundation.
* * * *
I pulled into the parking lot of the Down Home and drove around, looking for Bubba’s Suburban and a dark colored pickup truck with a white racing stripe down the passenger side. I didn’t find Bubba’s wheels but there were at least a dozen pickup trucks meeting my criteria. I wasn’t surprised. After all I was in Texas where the pickup is the Texas Cadillac.
After circling a second time, I summoned my courage and pulled into an empty parking space. I slipped the Beretta into the shoulder holster, and practiced my quick-draw. I knew I wasn’t the fastest. but maybe I wasn’t the slowest either. I congratulated myself for saddle-soaping the leather the previous week. It was soft and slick.
Finally, I couldn’t stall anymore. I moved toward the entrance, trying to see in all directions at once. Every shadow seemed to hide a shooter, someone who was out to get me. I realized I was in a crouch. To an onlooker, I must have looked like an idiot, but at least a live idiot—well, so far.
Pushing open the door caused me to reel backwards as it did each time I entered the Down Home. The smoke poured out as if released from a genie’s bottle, however, the smoke from a ten-thousand-year-old genie’s bottle would have smelled better. Eu de Cigarette Smoke would never catch on as my favorite perfume—unless Terri wore it, then Eu de Skunk would smell great. I pushed again, holding my breath until I was inside. Unfortunately, that didn’t solve my breathing problem. When I finally gave in and sucked air, I realized that was not the last of my problems. The noise was assaulting.
I stepped to the right of the door, hoping my eyes would quit watering and adjust to the dim lights and the smoke. They did once I wiped the tears away. I looked around the room for Terri, then Bubba. With luck, Bubba would be in a protective mood again. What I saw were murky shapes through the veil of smoke, not recognizing anyone. As I stood peering into the murky atmosphere, I felt a tap on my shoulder.
“Hey, good-looking. Are you taken, or can any girl stake a claim?”
I looked around. My heart skipped an entire drum roll. Terri stood there with an inviting smile. Tonight, she seemed more beautiful than ever. I wanted to bury my fingers in her red hair and lose myself in those gorgeous eyes. I wanted… Whoa. I had to remind myself she was engaged to Jake, not me.
“Hello, Terri. I got your messages. What do you need to talk to me about?” I’d decided to play it cool on the outside, not trusting my emotions on the inside.
Terri dropped her eyes and stared up at me through those long, long lashes. My knees grew weak. She wasn’t playing fair. I wished she wouldn’t look at me like that.
“Don’t be angry, Ace. I want to explain. Can we go outside where it’s quieter?”
I stared at her, determined to be tough. Didn't work. I was putty in her hands, and we both knew it. “First let me get a couple of beers. I have a feeling I’ll need a case before you finish your talk.”
Hojo was quick and gracious when I walked to the bar and asked for two Killian’s Irish Reds and one long neck Bud. He served them without comment, but rubbed his throat as he sat them on the bar. I guessed he had a long memory and hadn’t forgotten the other night. I hate it when people hold a grudge. Of course I never do.
I handed Terri the Bud and shouted above the noise, “Okay, I’m ready with my liquid courage. Let’s hear your story.”
We walked outside and around to the side of the building. I leaned against the wall in my most nonchalant pose.
“I…uh… I need to tell you about Jake and me, about why I agreed to marry him. He said he talked to you this morning and when he told you, you were thrilled. You wished us everlasting happiness. You said you were glad he and I had gotten together. It hurt that I meant so little to you, but I still want to tell you.”
I blinked. Did I do that? I couldn’t remember what I said to Jake but somehow I believed he might have exaggerated. All I could squeeze out was, “Ah, yes. That’s how I feel. I hope you’re very happy. You both deserve one another.” The last sentence was the only part that matched what I thought.
“I don’t know how you can have such a don’t-give-a-shit attitude about this. I’ve been a mess all day. Please understand that I care about both of you—you and Jake.”
“Oh, great,” I replied. “That makes a lot of sense. So why did you lead me to believe there might be
a future for us?”
She dropped her head and hesitated as she crossed her arms. When she spoke, her tone was soft and unsure. “I was, no, I am attracted to you.” She lifted her head, looked me straight in the eye, and went on in a stronger voice. “You’re attractive and very lovable, although right now you’re being a horse’s ass.” She hesitated again. “This is so difficult. I can’t find the right words.”
“Try.”
“All right, but don’t interrupt.” She inhaled. “Jake and I met not long after he and Sheila separated. At first, I think he was attracted to me because I can look like her. For about the first six months, he insisted I dress like her and fix my hair like her. He bought me the same kind of outfits she wore. There were even times when he treated me like he must have treated her, like a woman he’d been with for many years. I was thrilled that a rich man who could have anything found me interesting.”
“That’s impressive,” I said sarcastically.
“That’s not fair, and I asked you not to interrupt. Why shouldn’t I have gone with him? Why shouldn’t I enjoy the things he gave me? I grew up poor and worked my way through college. Even now, I barely make ends meet on my teacher’s pay. Jake was my way into a world I only dreamed of. I may not be as strong as you, but don’t be so damned sanctimonious.”
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” I held up my hands. “Please continue.”
“I’m not sure when it happened, but I realized I didn’t want to be his Sheila. I wanted to be his Terri. I discovered that I cared about him a great deal. I needed something deeper, more permanent, but he never gave me any indication I was more than an ornament for him to show off. Whenever I mentioned commitment, he changed the subject. I had about reached the point where I thought I had no future with Jake when you showed up. As I got to know you, I became more and more attracted to you. I felt like you might be the man I was looking for, a man I could love and a man who would love me back.”