by Mark Tufo
>chime-chime<
Oh, I have a message. Who’s it from? Miller? What does that handsome devil want? A picture? Let me see. What’s this? Oh my goodness, I can’t believe this! Oh, the inhumanity! He laughed to himself again. I better call and cry like a baby and say some choice curse words like a three-year-old. He flipped open his phone and mimed punching in his phone number and pressing send. Suddenly his phone vibrated and lit up with Ingram’s number.
Jerrod laughed out loud and spun in his chair, pleased that the man was so predictable, not only in business, but in this game as well. He waited a moment and then pressed the button to answer the phone, “Ingram, so good of you to call. To wish me congratulations, I assume?” Miller tried to hide the joy in his voice.
Ingram began his tirade with a choice line of curse words and epithets that involved whether or not Miller’s parents were actually married at the time of his birth. “Stan, please, do you actually kiss your mother with that mouth?” Miller asked, trying to be more serious. “I can’t help it that you lost the bet.”
“The bet isn’t over yet, you rancid sack of—”
“Easy there, big boy. You have until midnight. If you can beat my last two additions, then, true, you’ll have me. But even you must admit, the Liberty Head gold dollars beat your original 1890s wagon wheel chandelier in value and aesthetics, and you have nothing in your entire collection that beats this latest acquisition.”
He listened to Ingram breathe hard into the phone. “Double or nothing?”
“Ha!” Miller cried. “This isn’t checkers, buddy. It’s not like we’re playing for a baseball card.”
“Some baseball cards are worth a lot of money,” Stan said.
“Maybe so, but I have no interest in baseball cards. Besides, this game takes two years to complete. I have no desire to stretch it out another two.”
“It could be four,” Stan said defensively.
“As if you could ever get the better of me.” Miller stared at his fingernails absently. “Look, face the music, smell the coffee, wake the hell up, whatever you need to do. At midnight tonight, I’ll be expecting my winnings.”
Ingram was silent on the other end of the phone. “Fine. Midnight.”
“See you then,” Miller said, an evil grin crossing his features.
He hung up the phone and turned to his trophy case. Ill-gotten gains or no, once he got his hands on the Earp collection, he intended to display them prominently in his trophy case. If anybody with authority asked, they were replicas. Very good replicas, but replicas nonetheless.
He stood and went to the display case, opening it and lifting the small brass plates that he’d had made the day after the bet was made. “Wyatt Earp’s Badge, Tombstone, AZ” and “Wyatt Earp’s Henry Repeating Rifle, Tombstone, AZ”. Jerrod sighed with contentment. “Very soon, my pretties, you’ll be home where you belong.”
He turned to leave and noticed his newest treasures still sitting out. He approached them tentatively and ran his hands slowly across the Peacemakers. “Hmm. Something tells me that nobody’s looking for you, are they?” He allowed his fingertips to caress the barrels. “You were buried with your owner, weren’t you? Nobody will report you stolen. I doubt anybody even knows that you were buried with your owner.” He smiled to himself. “You want to be displayed with my other treasures, don’t you?” He spoke as if talking to an infant or small puppy.
“Where best to display you?” he mumbled to himself.
He went to his display cases and looked about. After rearranging the shelves, he placed the gun belt and Peacemakers right in the middle shelf under the brightest light, the badge directly in front of them. He stacked the spurs to the left and the other bric-a-brac to the right, all atop a small piece of red and white longhorn hide.
“There. Beautiful,” he sighed. Standing back and admiring his work he nodded. “Perfect.” He shut and locked the display case and hid the key away once more. He took one more long look at his wall length case and smiled. “Come midnight, my collection will be complete. I can finally die a happy man.”
*****
“Kid, you’re like a bad penny. You just keep showing up,” Eckerson said as he walked into the station.
Jon gave him a hurt look. “What does that mean?”
“Ease up, junior. It’s just an expression.” Jeff set his aluminum clipboard on the counter. “I just didn’t expect to find you here already.”
“Oh, yeah. Well, uh, I was wondering if maybe I could ride along with you tonight? You know, learn from a veteran officer?”
Eckerson sifted through the warrants and papers waiting to be served. He sighed with relief when none were in his patrol area. He looked up at the young deputy and shot him a wink. “Sure thing kid.” Jon turned to grab his bag when Jeff said, “Hey, hold up. You don’t smoke, do you?” His eyes narrowed.
Jon looked aghast. “No!”
Eckerson brightened. “No problem then.” He turned and started for the door, “Meet me at the cruiser.”
Brenda Tatum came around the corner just as Eckerson was going out the door, “Eckerson!” she barked. Jeff froze in place.
He lowered his head as he turned. “Yes, ma’am?”
“You burning up my radio waves after you go 10-7?” she asked, an eyebrow raised.
Jeff feigned surprise. “Me? Brenda! Would I do that?” He slowly backed toward the door. “I’d never continue to use county property after I was officially off-duty. You know that.”
“Next time, use your cell phone.” She tried not to smile. “The commissioners have scanners too, you know.”
“Like those buttheads would be up at 2:30 in the morning,” Jeff smirked.
“Some of us are, Deputy,” a voice called from behind him.
Eckerson froze, recognizing the voice instantly and both his face and his ass puckered at the same time. He cringed inwardly and fought the urge to allow his body to cringe outwardly.
“Commissioner Howard, how are you?” he asked exuberantly.
The man gave him a flat stare. “Apparently I’m a butthead,” he said with a blank expression.
Jeff gave him a shocked expression. “You? Oh, I wasn’t referring to you, commissioner. I meant the other buttheads.”
Kyle Howard cracked a knowing grin at him. “Sure you were, Eckerson. Skedaddle before I tell your boss on you.”
“Skedaddling, sir.” He saluted as he scooted past the man.
Jon caught up with him outside the station. “Nice save back there. ‘I meant the OTHER buttheads.’ You really think he didn’t catch that?”
Eckerson laughed. “God, I hope he did. I hate those assholes sometimes.”
“Why’s that?”
“Every time we need something financed, they tell us no. We need new weapons, ‘sorry, no money’. We need bullets for the range, ‘sorry, no money’. We need a new patrol car, ‘sorry, no money’.”
“I guess it doesn’t help when I drive them into cattle ponds,” Jon groaned as he shut the door and buckled up.
“That car deserved to die,” Jeff mumbled under his breath. “You put it out of its misery, kid. Trust me. Stupid thing had a million miles on it. It was on its last tire.”
“That was my Expedition,” he said jokingly.
Jeff snorted. “Yeah, well, now you got new tires on that one.”
He fired the Hemi engine up and backed away from the station. Jeff picked up the radio and keyed the mic. “County, 504. 10-8.”
“Copy, 504,” Brenda called back, putting them into service for the night.
Eckerson cruised through the backstreets of Quitman until he reached his favorite coffee house and pulled into the drive through. “Want anything?”
“No thanks. I don’t like coffee.” Jon continued to work on some paperwork in the passenger seat.
“Oh hell. Don’t tell me you’re one of those Red Bull types?” Jeff teased.
“Uh, no. I don’t do stimulants,” Jon answered without looking up. “U
nless you count green tea.”
Jeff did a double take. “Taking the whole ‘Asian’ thing a bit far, aren’t you?”
Jon looked up at him, and with a straight face, asked, “Have you seen my face? Kind of hard to ignore the facts. Didn’t they teach you to be a little more observant in cop school?”
Jeff stared at him open mouthed until Jon’s face finally cracked and he laughed. “Relax, old timer. Just because I don’t like coffee doesn’t make me a stereotype.”
“If you say so.”
The girl at the window smiled cutely at Eckerson and handed him his usual. “Have a safe night, deputy,” she said in a sing-song voice.
“Thanks, Gloria. Tell your mom I said hi.”
“Dude, you didn’t pay for that,” Jon said.
“One of the perks…”
“That ain’t right, man. I know a lot of places offer cops free stuff but you shouldn’t take it without paying.”
Eckerson stared at the younger officer a moment then continued. “As I was saying, it’s one of the perks of being the owner’s brother,” Jeff shot Jon a sideways look. “Besides that, it’s the best coffeehouse in town and they ALWAYS get my order right.”
Jon blanched. “Oh.” He cleared his throat. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay, kid. Just don’t make a habit of assuming things ‘til you have all the facts.”
Jon nodded. “Noted.”
“502, County,” the radio crackled.
Jeff picked up the microphone, “Go ahead, County.”
“10-14 at Little Hope ghost town,” Brenda reported.
Jeff sighed. “Again?” He keyed the radio, “Copy that, County. Is it the same 17?” he asked, wanting to know if it was the same complainant as the first report of prowlers.
“Affirmative 504.”
“What’s that about?” Jon asked.
“I had a report of prowlers out at the old ghost town, but I didn’t see any sign of them. I went by the complainant’s house, but she wasn’t home,” Eckerson explained. “I tried to see the ghost town from her house, but there were too many trees and a hill and…” he trailed off.
“Maybe she drove by?”
“That’s what I figured, too.”
Jeff drove the ten or so miles out of town, following the speed limits and obeying all the rules of the road. Jon kept looking at him expectantly. “Aren’t you gonna run Code 3?”
“Why? There’s no sense in lights and sirens if it isn’t an emergency. She didn’t report that they were still present and there was nothing to see the last time I was there,” Eckerson explained. “Not everything is an emergency, kid.”
Jon sat back and sighed. It was going to be a long, short drive.
*****
Night was just starting to fall and the Davidson’s prepared for a night out. Thomas and Marla finished dressing and discussing their plans for their anniversary night out.
“Are you sure Alethea will be okay while we’re gone?” Marla asked again for the umpteenth time.
Tom finished buttoning his shirt in the mirror and tried to decide if he should go with or without the tie. “She’ll be fine, dear. She’s almost seventeen. Your car is here, and if she needs anything, your mom is just a phone call and a few miles away.”
Marla finished pulling her hose up and smoothing them. “I’d just feel better if she were to go over and stay with mom and dad while we were gone, hon. You know how teenagers can be these days.”
Tom smiled to himself. “I remember what teenagers were like when we were teenagers.”
“Exactly!” She hopped from the bed. “I’m going to call my mom and have her come and collect Alethea to stay with her while we’re gone.” She reached for her cell phone.
Tom scooped her phone off the dresser and held it away from her playfully. “Sweetheart, she’ll be fine. We’re only going to be gone for the weekend. Dallas is less than two hours away and she knows better than to do anything stupid.”
Marla stood with her hands on her hips and stared at him, her eyes narrowed into slits. “Thomas Allen Davidson, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll hand me my phone right this instant,” she demanded, her mouth curling into a smile.
“And if you know what’s good for you,” he smiled, pulling her into a kiss, “you’ll keep that saucy attitude for when we check into the hotel.”
She snatched her phone out of his hand and glared at him. “You’re incorrigible.”
He swatted her rear as she went back to put her shoes on. “You made me that way.”
“I’m still going to ask mom to check in on her tomorrow.”
“I’m sure she’ll be fine, but if it helps you to sleep better, go right ahead.”
A light knock on the bedroom door caught both their attentions. “Ooh, mom. You’re smokin’ hot,” Alethea said as she pushed the door open.
Marla spun around once in her body hugging, slinky red dress. “You like?”
“Better be careful, or dad might think he’s gonna get lucky!” she teased as she hopped onto the bed and laughed.
“Knock it off, pumpkin.” Tom warned. “You’ll jinx me.” He shot a warning glare.
She spread out on their king-size bed and stretched. “Mom? Can I invite Kaitlyn over for tonight to watch movies?”
“I thought you two weren’t talking,” Marla asked absently as she dug through her closet.
“That was so yesterday, mom.” Alethea lay on her back and pointed her toes in the air, waving her Hello Kitty house shoes back and forth. Her bright pink and black sleep pants riding up her leg to bunch at the knees. “Please, mom?” she whined.
“I guess so, as long as her mom says it’s okay,” Marla said absently. “Just don’t stay up all night eating junk food, okay, Honey? Grandma’s going to come over tomorrow to check on you and I don’t want you to be asleep and suffering from a chocolate hangover.”
“Mo-o-om, grandma doesn’t need to check on me. I’m not a baby, I’m almost seventeen.” She rolled over again and bounced to the edge of the bed. “And speaking of being almost seventeen, daddy?”
Thomas finished packing his overnight bag and zipped it closed. “Yeah, Pumpkin?”
“You said that we’d discuss me getting a car when I was seventeen and…”
“And what?” he replied absently. “You’re not seventeen yet.”
“Daddy, it’s less than a month away.”
“Sweetie,” he said as he placed the bag on the bed and turned to face her, “blow out your candles first, THEN we’ll talk.” He kissed her on the forehead and she slumped into a pout.
Marla picked up her coat and her bag, “Okay, Sweetheart, we’re off! Have a fun time with Kelly!”
“Kaitlyn, mom!” Alethea corrected.
“That’s right. Kaitlyn.” Marla raised an eyebrow at her and smiled. “See ya Sunday night, darling.” She winked at her and shut the door.
Althea sat alone for a moment and listened to the garage door open and the car pull out. Her dad honked bye to her and the garage door shut behind them.
She walked down the stairs and slipped into the living room. She slid down the back of the leather couch and grabbed the phone. With her feet propped along the back of the couch and her head lying in the floor she punched the numbers into the phone. She lay there listening to it ring and smiled when she heard the voice on the other end.
“Oh, my God, I thought they’d never leave.” She listened for a bit then nodded, “Oh yeah. We have the whole house to ourselves. We have ice cream, cookies, movies galore.”
She listened a little longer. “Heck yeah. High-def big screen, blue ray, the works.” She listened a little longer and her eyes glassed over. Her smiled waivered slightly and she nodded. “I guess so.”
“Okay, but my grandma is supposed to come over and check on me some time tomorrow.” She nodded again. “Okay, see you in a little bit.” She waited and then smiled warmly. “I love you too, Brian.”
5
Eckerson drove
slowly by the Little Hope ghost town. The sun was setting and it cast an eerie glow on the ramshackle buildings that remained. He pulled the Charger up to what once may have been a blacksmith’s shop. Stepping out of the car, he looked to Foo and said, “Tie her up for me, wouldja?”
Jon looked at the car and the hitching post, then back to Eckerson who had walked down the street, flashlight in hand, checking the interior of the abandoned buildings. “You are kidding, right?”
“Check the other side of the street, kid.” Jeff pointed absently.
“I wish you’d stop with the whole, kid, junior, son crap,” Jon muttered.
Eckerson paused at the saloon and flashed his light through the interior. “How old are you, Jon?”
“Twenty-five in August,” he called back over his shoulder.
Eckerson nodded. “Yeah, that’s what I was afraid of.”
“What’s that?”
“I’ve got shoes older than you. Check that alleyway real careful. It’s grown up pretty tall back there.”
Jon rolled his eyes and marched to the rear of the alley, flashing his light back and forth, but coming back and shaking his head.
“Nothing?” Jeff asked.
“Empty.”
“That’s strange.” Jeff scratched at his chin. “George is usually back there.”
“Who the hell is George? Homeless guy?”
Jeff shook his head. “Resident ghost.” Eckerson replied straight-faced. “Likes to scare the bejeezus out of the new guys.”
At first Jon gave him a sideways look then narrowed his gaze. “You’re screwing with me, right? There’s no such thing as ghosts.”
Jeff gave him a serious look. “Jon, we’re in a ghost town. Ghosts live in a ghost town.”
Jon was slowly shaking his head. “No…dude, that can’t be.”
Eckerson was nodding. “Yeah, where else would ghosts live than a ghost town?” He turned and continued walking down the street, flashing his light into the remaining structures.
Foo kept flashing his light back down the alley and behind him, checking for ‘George the ghost’. After a few minutes, he sighed and shook his head. “Dude, you’re such an ass,” he muttered just quiet enough that Jeff couldn’t hear.