by Dave Daren
“So how many jobs do you think Hup is hoping to add?” I asked.
The Sheriff glanced in my direction for a moment, and he flashed a few teeth in my direction. It might have been a smile or it might have been something more ominous. It was hard to be sure.
“You’ll need a vehicle,” the Sheriff said.
With his eyes firmly back on the road, I realized that the Sheriff had decided that the tax and employment discussion was now closed. It might have been because his own nephew was already guaranteed a spot, but I had a sneaking suspicion that all such details were the sole provenance of Hup.
“Is there any place close by that can remove the paint?” I asked.
“Billy’s,” the Sheriff replied as the first buildings came into sight. “I’ll drop you off there so you can see if he has anything you can drive while he works on the car.”
We cruised past the park where a small group of people had congregated around a woman juggling various kitchen knives and turned onto a road lined with small, cookie cutter homes that I guessed had probably been built by the mining company for its workers. I’d seen the same thing in other small corporate towns, though there had been some efforts to individualize the Folsom homes with paint colors and even a miniature carousel.
We pulled into a parking lot at the point where the paved road became a dirt trail that meandered into the woods. A handful of cars and trucks were scattered haphazardly around the lot, and one even had a for sale sign in the windshield, but the place definitely had the look of a local mechanic. There were the open garage doors through which I could see the lifts for the cars, both of which were currently occupied, the dusty windows for what was presumably the office, and the smell of gasoline and burnt oil that permeated the air. The Sheriff gave a short blast of his horn before he turned off the engine and climbed from the cruiser, and I followed his lead.
A moment later, a scrawny black man in a pair of greasy coveralls emerged from the garage and waved towards the Sheriff. He pulled an old rag from his back pocket as he started to walk towards us, and it suddenly occurred to me that this was the first black man I’d seen in town. It was an odd thought, since I never even considered how many different skin tones I saw an average day in New York City, but the mechanic’s midnight black skin must have stood out among the rest of Folsom’s residents.
“How do, Sheriff,” the man said as he joined us. He had a huge smile that gleamed brightly in the sunlight and ears that would rival my client’s. His hair was neatly trimmed close to his head, but I still spotted a few gray strands along one temple.
“Mr. Morgan here needs a hand with his rental car,” the Sheriff replied, “and I thought you might be able to supply him with a loaner while you work.”
The mechanic nodded and turned a more somber expression on me.
“I heard about the mess at the Inn,” he said in a solemn voice. “I can get your car fixed up, but it may take a couple of days.”
The mechanic then turned a speculative eye over the other cars in his lot. After he’d studied each one, he turned to look at the Sheriff again.
“I”ve got a truck Mr. Morgan can use, but I’ll need to get it cleaned out first,” the mechanic said. “Teeny used it to go fishin’.”
“Definitely want to make sure it’s clean then,” the Sheriff agreed.
“I can drop Mr. Morgan here back at the Inn and pick up the car,” the mechanic added.
“That’ll work,” the Sheriff replied as he started to walk back to his cruiser. “I’ve got to get out to the old Ballard place and make sure George hasn’t shot any more deer.”
The Sheriff pulled out of the lot in a spray of pebbles and dust. I stood there for a moment and watched his rapidly retreating car, uncertain what I was supposed to do next.
“Let me just get the truck warmed up,” the mechanic said in a sympathetic voice. “Then I’ll take you back into town.”
I nodded and the mechanic turned back towards the garage.
“Hey, Teeny,” the man called out as he stopped by one of the open doors, “I gotta take the tow. You keep an eye out for Miz Candy. She’s supposed to be coming by with that old clunker of hers.”
There was a muffled response, but the black man was already moving away towards the side of the garage. He stepped around the corner, and a moment later I heard the distinctive rumble of a diesel engine coming to life. Nearly a minute passed by my count before the tow truck appeared from behind the garage and slowly drove across the parking lot. The mechanic pulled up next to me and opened the door on the passenger side.
“Hop in,” he said. “My name’s Billy by the way.”
“Nice to meet you Billy,” I replied as I climbed inside. “And thanks for helping out.”
“Glad to do it,” he said as the truck pulled out of the lot. “I was sorry to hear about your car.”
“It’s a mess,” I admitted. “The Sheriff thinks the environmentalists did it because they think my client wants to reopen the mine.”
“I got nothing against the commune folks,” Billy mused. “Heck, I even agree with a lot of what they say, but you can’t be treating people’s cars that way.”
“It’s not even my car,” I sighed. “It’s a rental.”
“Whoo,” Billy said as he shook his head. “That’s really bad. But don’t worry, I’ll have it looking better than when you picked it up.”
“So, did you grow up here?” I asked.
Billy grinned as the truck ground to a halt to let a pack of children cross the street.
“What gave it away?” he asked. “My accent?”
I felt my cheeks start to redden in embarrassment, but Billy laughed, a deep, throaty sound that was meant to reassure not denigrate.
“Naw,” he said, “I’m from Philly originally. Got a scholarship to play football at West Virginia. Best offer I had so I took it. I was all set to enter the draft, but I blew out my knee halfway through the season. Back then, that was the kiss of death. I came back, but I wasn’t nearly as good. I got my degree though and decided I wanted to stay in the area.”
“So how did you end up as a mechanic in Folsom?” I asked.
“The shop used to belong to the father of one of my teammates,” Billy said. “He didn’t want it when his father died, and he was all set to sell the land to one of those convenience stores. I convinced him to sell it to me instead.”
We were back at the park where a few strollers moved along the paths, but the juggler had disappeared. I could see the inn at the far end of the street and my paint splattered car still tucked into its spot, though I noted that the colors seemed to pulse in the morning sun.
“Oh, Lord,” Billy said as he took in my car.
“Right?” I agreed.
“Well, if you drove over the edge of the road, at least they’d be able to find you,” the mechanic noted.
I considered that for a moment as Billy waved a pair of elderly men across the corner with a friendly smile.
“What do you think of the Sheriff?” I asked as we watched the two men inch their way to the opposite sidewalk. “And Hup?”
Billy waited until the truck was moving again before he responded.
“They’re fair about how they run this town,” Billy said. “And it’s a lot better here than my old neighborhood in Philly. But then, I know how these things work. Stay low, do your job, don’t draw any attention to yourself.”
“And if you do get their attention?” I asked.
We were pulling into the parking lot of the inn by then, and I saw the clerk glance up from his spot behind the desk, then go back to whatever he was doing as Billy stopped behind my car.
“If you can do it, you go along with their plan,” Billy said. “If you can’t, you leave town.”
We both climbed out of the tow truck, and I watched as Billy expertly loaded the Chevy. When the car was secure, he gave me a wave before pulling back onto the road for the return trip to the garage. It was hard not to stare at the car as it
made its way along the streets of Folosom, and I saw several of the pedestrians stop and stare as the car went by.
I had plenty of reasons to call Anthony by then, but I wanted a better sense of what the community was saying as well. I wondered if the town had started to warm up after my visit with Hup, and if they were more willing to accept the sale. I wasn’t sure how long it would take Billy to clean up the truck, but I figured I at least had enough time to visit the diner. If nothing else, I could get another slice of cherry pie out of the trip.
My mind made up, I ignored the government building and walked towards the diner. I paid more attention to the people I passed along the way, and while no one slapped me on the back and welcomed me like a long lost friend, no one was drilling me with icy stares of death either. I took that as a sign that word was starting to spread about our plans and that the town wasn’t completely opposed.
I was disappointed that my lunch companions of the day before weren’t at the counter when I arrived. In fact, all of the counter seats had been taken over by a group of teenagers who were the only ones who didn’t clam up when I stepped inside. The rest of the diners went quiet and stared for a moment before returning to their own conversations in quiet voices.
Joelle spotted me and strolled over before one of the other waitresses could. She greeted me with a smile and even touched my arm for a moment as she nodded towards a row of booths.
“Why don’t you grab a booth?” she suggested.
“I guess news has spread,” I said as I studied the faces of the other guests. They weren’t angry, at least, even if they weren’t exactly trusting.
“Mm-hmm,” Joelle agreed. “People aren’t quite sure what to make of it, but at least it’s not another one of those rich people bunkers.”
“I’ll have some coffee and a slice of that cherry pie if you have any,” I said as I walked towards an empty booth.
“Coming right up,” Joelle replied as she slipped away.
I sat down and stared at the old photos until Joelle returned with the coffee and pie. I wasn’t really hungry after the breakfast sandwich and fried potatoes, but the pie was too tempting and I dug in like a starving man. I was licking the last of the tart cherry goodness from my fork when a shadow fell across my table. I glanced up and just had time to register a woman in her fifties before she sat down across from me and nodded at the empty plate.
“Can’t beat the cherry pie,” she remarked.
“Um, no, you can’t,” I agreed.
She gave me one of those smiles that never reveals any teeth, and the first words that leapt to mind were school marm. It sounded so incredibly old-fashioned, but then everything about Folsom felt like a throwback to an earlier century. My uninvited guest even had the tidy bun of gray hair, the wire-rimmed glasses perched on the end of her nose, and dark brown eyes that brooked no arguments.
“You’re here to buy Mr. Bluefled’s property,” she remarked.
“Yee-ss,” I stuttered though that was hardly a secret by this point. Heck, according to Joelle, word had already spread about Campania Olio’s plans for the place.
“And I’m guessing that Sheriff Harris and Tom Baker, our erstwhile mayor, have already told you about the business costs of operating in Folsom?” she asked.
“Something like that,” I replied as I looked around the diner. The place had gone dead silent again, except for the teenagers who would probably have been oblivious to the end of the world. Almost every pair of eyes in the place were fastened on our booth, and whatever good feelings my visit to Hup had engendered seemed to evaporate before my eyes.
“My name is Belle Lucent,” she announced. “I’m an attorney.”
“Ah,” I replied as I realized she was probably fishing for a chance to get in on the action.
“Oh, no,” she chuckled, “I’m not part of that group. I’m here to put an end to their antics.”
“Oh,” I said in surprise. Well, that at least explained the fresh round of angry looks. No doubt the townspeople feared that the land deal was about to come crashing down.
“You don’t say much, do you?” the school marm chided. “Course, when you’re that good looking, I don’t suppose you have to.”
I felt the heat start to rise to my cheeks, though I wasn’t sure if it was anger or embarrassment, or more likely both. I tamped it down and put on my best Wall Street lawyer voice instead.
“Is there something I can help you with, Miss Lucent?” I asked.
“That’s more like it,” she said with a nod. “You’ll need some fire like that if you’re going to fight the good ‘ol boys who run this town.”
“I’m not looking to fight anyone,” I responded stiffly though that wasn’t entirely true. I had no doubt Anthony would happily fight Hup if it came to that.
“That’s a shame,” she said. “I would have thought your client was the kind to look for a better bargain.”
“My client,” I said primly.
“Everyone’s heard,” she sighed. “Well, most everyone. Word spreads pretty quickly around here. And while I’m not a friend of your client, I think we can help each other.”
“The enemy of my enemy is my friend,” I suggested.
“Something like that,” she admitted. “Besides, your client isn’t someone who will be scared away by Hup’s antics. At least, I don’t think he will be.”
“He’s a businessman,” I replied. “He’ll make his decision based on what’s good for the company.”
Belle made a rasping sound that I decided was her version of a laugh.
“Sure, sure,” she agreed. “A businessman. Well, our local businessmen aren’t happy about the competition, as I’m sure you’ve discovered. Hup’s been running things around here for so long that only a few of us can even remember what it was like when we had a real government and a real Sheriff.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said politely. “But I’m not sure what you expect me or my client to do.”
“You know how they operate,” she said. “Pay up or suffer the consequences. Your house gets damaged, your business gets burned down, someone threatens your kid at the playground. And if you still don’t play ball, then the bodies start to pile up.”
I stared at her for a moment as I tried to decide if she was exaggerating Hup’s control of the town.
“The hardware store?” I asked.
“Poor Sam,” she sighed. “Missed a couple of payments. He was trying to get a loan from the bank in Parkersburg, but it was taking too long.”
“And the man who tried to buy the mine before us?” I asked.
“Body hasn’t turned up yet,” she noted. “May never do so. But they don’t need it to. The family got the message and dropped the deal. Now you’ve turned up, and Hup’s seen a chance to get some real money. He figures your client will pay a hefty sum to keep the town quiet about what you’re really doing out there.”
“We’ll be making balsamic vinegar,” I insisted.
Belle made the rasping sound again, then patted my hand.
“Of course, dear,” she replied.
“Look, what do you want from my client?” I demanded.
“I’ll help your client get a better deal, and you’ll help me clean out the old gang,” she said. “And if you’re telling the truth and all you’re doing is making vinegar, then praise the Lord. We’ll have our town back, you’ll have your vinegar, and we’ll be back on the road to being a real town again.”
“And you can do that?” I snickered. “Get my client a better deal?”
“I can,” she asserted. “I’ve been at this for a long time, Mr. Morgan. I have some wins and some losses, but I think this is the moment when Folsom turns the corner, and we become a real law and order town and not some backwoods mafia.”
I couldn’t decide how deliberate she had been in her choice of words, though it was obvious that she had a good idea of who my client was and what type of businesses he ran. Was it possible she even knew about Salvatore’s
plan to become legitimate, or was she looking to replace the local shakedown artists with something bigger, something she could be a part of?
“I can get you the deal without any of Mr. Baker’s special taxes,” she said. “And that’s all I need from you. After that, I can bring down Hup and his cronies, and you can sit up there in your mines and make vinegar while the good people of Folsom learn how to live without the yoke of oppression around their necks.”
I let that sit for a moment while I studied her again. She had a stubborn set to her chin, and though she was trying to appear calm, it was hard to miss the flash of anger in her eyes when she talked about Hup or the way her index finger tapped on the table as she spoke. She wasn’t interested in me or my client, I realized, just in Hup and his machinations.
“We’re not looking to get involved in a local fight,” I said.
“You already are, whether or not you want to be,” she replied. “But if you decide you want to do something good for this town, then give me a call. Otherwise, I can promise you, you will be beholden to Hup and Shifty for the rest of your lives. And you may think that it’s just the cost of doing business in this town, but you have no idea what you’re walking into. What you heard so far? That doesn’t even begin to cover what goes on around here. Just ask Bam sometime about the cost of doing business around here.”
She slid a business card towards me, then stood up and left. I stared at the card for several seconds, then slowly dropped it into my pocket. I caught Joelle’s eye as she was heading for one of the other tables and signalled for a check.
“Miss Lucent already paid, hon,” Joelle said. “You’re free to go.”
It was time to call Anthony, I decided. Things had just become a good deal more complicated, and I wasn’t sure that the Febbos wanted to get entangled with Hup and whatever fight he had with Belle Lucent. Not to mention the question of the missing buyer and the secret meetings between the sheriff and the commune leader. And to think I’d wanted to fly all the way to Europe to soak in a little excitement. Who knew all I had to do was travel to the backwoods of West Virginia?