A pair of Payless® tennies approached me. I looked up the jean-clad legs.
“Oh, shit. Chip, go away.” I sighed. I didn’t have the strength to chase him off or run.
He plopped down next to me while I rubbed my tired, wet eyes.
One thing I’d already learned about Chip—he’d get an idea into his head and couldn’t be deterred no matter how hard you applied the sledgehammer.
Right in character, he said, “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what happened.”
I sighed. “You know, you’re real sweet, but in case you haven’t figured it out, you’re getting yourself in trouble just by hanging around me. Do yourself a favor and get lost.” My stomach fluttered, and I feared I’d lose my temper again. I clenched my fists and couldn’t talk for a long time.
“Look.” Chip’s matter-of-fact tone jarred me from my self-loathing. “It must make you feel unique to think you’re the only unpopular kid in school. If you think I have a reputation to blow, believe me, hanging out with you has gotten me more recognition in the last two weeks than I’ve had my entire life. You think it’s bad to be the center of attention, but try being invisible for awhile.”
I sat, absorbing what he’d said, then replied, “Why are you doing this?”
“Because whatever the problem is, you don’t deserve it, and because you kicked the shit out of Clinty. So maybe I admire you for that, because I never could.”
He hunched down in the grass, placing all his weight on his feet, his knees folded up near his shoulders. “You know, I watched the fight. I just stood and watched while they pinned you against the locker, knowing that Clinty was about to take it to somebody else. Some other nobody at the wrong place at the wrong time. No matter what happened, I was going to stand and watch. When you did what you did, I guess I felt pretty bad.”
I sighed, and when I spoke, my voice dripped venom. “Don’t go around wearing your heart on your sleeve, Chip. Somebody will tear it off and squash it.”
“Well, maybe so, but I’m not going away until you tell me what happened. So, if you really want me to get lost, there’s only one way to accomplish that.”
I glared at him, fighting the desire to scream.
He looked back in utter calm, maybe even a little amused at my behavior.
Even in my current state, I couldn’t take my anger out on him. In no way did he deserve it, and I knew he only wanted to help. I put my head into my curved arm, took a deep breath, and put a lid on my frustration.
I sat up in the grass and started talking. He listened. He didn’t comment or judge; he just let me pour out my rage, without interruption. Because of that, I told the entire story in a drained monotone.
His enthusiastic face slowly bleached white.
I finished, “…So, if you want to go over there and kick the shit out of Mr. Robbins, I’ll be happy to watch, and we’ll be even.”
Chip’s blue eyes flared icy anger. “Don’t patronize me. I’m holding my hand out, and you’re chewing it off.”
“I warned you!” I took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. You really are sweet, Chip. You’re the only one in this town who even gives a shit about me, and I’m grateful, but you can’t do any good.”
“There has to be something you can do. Do you think the school board would really back his play?”
I shrugged. “How should I know? You think I’ve ever actually had to report anyone before? You live in this town. Does it sound like something that could happen?”
Chip shrugged. “I’d like to think common sense would prevail, but…” He shrugged and shook his head.
“Well, okay, then. I can’t risk getting kicked out of school on an answer like that. So, I guess I have to write off the school board idea.” We sat and stewed. I’d gotten past the anger and frustration. Failure still loomed over my head, but at least I could get through the rest of the day.
Chip, however, appeared to be thinking. His face held a look of such intense concentration, I could almost see smoke coming out of his ears.
After a while, he shook his head and seemed to dismiss his train of thought. “C’mon, Blue. We’d better go back inside. Try not to worry about it. Things could turn out all right, after all.”
Blue? Where’d that come from?
Exhaustion bore down on me, and I let the matter go for now. “If you don’t mind, I want to stay outside for a couple more minutes.”
Chip gave me one last look. “Okay, see ya.”
I curled up in the grass, letting the breeze and the sun comfort me, because I could find comfort nowhere else.
Chapter Six
Perionne—November, 1978
Jeff Crimley watched Perionne Park’s roller coaster chug through the darkness, then return to the launch shelter. The piston burst of hissing brakes cut through the silence. No passengers exited. No expectant crowd waited to board.
The train chugged over the track, and Jeff turned his head to watch. First, a near-vertical ascent, drawn out to a maddening slowness, then a suicidal dive straight to the ground.
No one screamed. No one laughed.
In his mind’s eye, Crimley saw the kids and teens who should be riding, getting tossed about and shaken as the coaster plummeted through the corkscrew to the finish of the ride. Happy screams.
Crimley shook off a chill, watching the train charge forward for yet another solitary run.
One last adjustment before packing away for the winter; one last chance to catch the small problems before they turned into big ones.
Crimley perched on the edge of the stool, seated in the control booth that overlooked the boarding platform of the Whirlwind. The brakes were turned on full, set to jerk the coaster to a jolting slowdown at every turn. So far, the coaster performed with its usual shakiness. Someday, he’d figure out a way to smooth it out, but not in the dead of night, not right before winter.
Flipping a switch, Crimley released the brakes and launched the cars again.
The coaster charged forward like a fighter in training, ready to go one more round.
The little hairs on the back of Crimley’s neck stood at attention. The only bad thing about working in the dark was the eeriness. Except for him, there wasn’t a soul—
“Gotcha, Crimley!” Hard metal pushed against Crimley’s shoulder. He yelped, jumping out of his seat and spinning around. He caught the metal object in his hand, his fist drawn back to attack the assailant. As recognition sank in, he stopped his action short.
“Gunther. You sunuvabitch! I oughta pound ya for that.”
Gunther grinned, his white teeth gleaming in the dark. A hint of malice behind Gunther’s blue eyes made Crimley pause.
Gunther’s cackle sounded genuine enough, though. “You shouldn’t make it so damn easy. Ya get working on this train, and ya go into another world. I’ve never seen anyone get off on a kiddy ride like you do.”
Crimley smiled, unable to deny it. He shook off a chill as Gunther folded his arms over the control booth railing and leaned forward. Something in Gunther’s obsessed stare bothered him. Neither man could claim to be on the up-and-up, but Crimley had never sensed any instability in Gunther.
Before tonight.
Crimley wanted to explain away the bad vibes he felt as simple nerves, but now he wondered if he wouldn’t regret agreeing to this nasty business.
As co-workers, Gunther and Crimley became fast friends. Gunther swept the coaster deck every hour or so. Last week, he visited the control booth, where they sat and sipped a couple of sodas together.
That’s when Gunther let Crimley in on his scheme. Crimley was willing enough to join, provided Gunther agreed to his one stipulation—a stipulation he’d maintained his entire life. No one got hurt, and certainly, no one died. If Gunther wanted him along, Crimley would be no part of any nastiness.
Now, looking into Gunther’s predatory gaze, Crimley tried to shake off the feeling he’d made a huge mistake. One he might have to take care of.
Gunther
let out a shuddering sigh. “I’m tired of Perionne. We’re goin’ forward with the plan. We pull this off, neither of us will have any more worries.”
Crimley shrugged. “We just better not get caught.”
Gunther cackled, a hard gleam returning to his eyes. “Who’s gonna catch us? The Perionne P.D.? They’re barely equipped to handle jaywalkers, let alone bank robbers.”
“Guess you’re right.”
Gunther’s eyes narrowed. “You still in?”
“’Course I’m in. I told ya I was, didn’t I?”
“Then, you got the car?”
Crimley produced a set of keys, dangling them from his fingers. “Just like I said.”
“What is it?”
“A ’76 Thunderbird®. Four doors, just like ya asked.”
Gunther snagged the keys. “V-8?”
“Fast enough to blow us right through this town.”
“Color?”
“Yella.”
Gunther paused, unable to contain a worried expression. “We’re going to rob a bank with a hot yellow T-Bird? You couldn’t find anything else?”
Crimley suppressed his own apprehension. “Hell, no. Not on such short notice. Look, you wanna tour Michigan, I got a great station wagon. You wanna blow through town like a bat outta hell, the T-Bird’s gonna do it. You’ve got my guarantee.”
The coaster skidded to a halt before them. Crimley wanted to run it, again. Instead, he turned his attention back to Gunther. Crimley explained, “The car’s parked on I-69, North of the first Michigan rest stop, ’bout ten miles up. Just like we agreed. Jim still going to drive?”
“I think I can guarantee his cooperation.”
“He ain’t gonna fuck around, is he?”
Crimley didn’t like the calm, maniacal grin dominating Gunther’s face. “Don’t worry about Jim. I’ll see to it that he don’t. I gotta go. See ya.”
As Gunther vanished into the darkness, Crimley shivered, but not from the cool, night air.
* * * *
Most people would think twice about paying a visit to a household at 11 p.m.—particularly unannounced—but tonight, Gunther’s obsession propelled him up the well-tended pathway to the roomy porch.
The modest, single-story house shone with a coat of new, white paint, even in the moonlight. As he strolled past the wooden gate, Gunther could make out the dug-out strips of a new garden bordering the lawn, and jealousy raged within him.
The domestic tranquility galled Gunther. His old “buddy” Jim, with no more skill or talent than Gunther, enjoyed a home all to himself. Jim had married Jessie Beauchamp, quiet and beautiful. Not because of an unwanted pregnancy or desperation, but after careful planning and considerable success. So, knocking on Jim’s door late at night to bring a little chaos into Jim’s life brought a secret glee to Gunther’s soul.
The porch light snapped on, and the door opened. Gunther smiled down on the petite blonde framed in the doorway. “Evenin’, Jessie. Jim here?”
Jessie stared back with wide, frightened brown eyes. “Just a sec, Gunther. I’ll get ’im. You wanna come in?”
“Nah. I’ll just wait here on the porch.” Jim had a front porch swing, and he owned his house.
Gunther helped himself to a corner seat and flopped down. The breeze had picked up with the settling of evening.
Jessie still eyed Gunther. “Care for something to drink?” Her words held a nervous edge. The scowl on her face undermined the polite gesture, but Gunther didn’t care.
“I’ll take a beer, thanks.” Gunther showed his teeth to her, an over-large, toothy grin he knew made people uncomfortable. Jessie’s scowl vanished, replaced with a robotic smile. She disappeared into the house.
He could hear Jim’s voice from inside. Gunther sat back and enjoyed the night air. His steel arm clanged against the metal bench beneath him. Tomorrow, I’ll get what’s due me.
First, he needed Jim’s cooperation.
“Gunther, what the hell you doin’ here?”
“Evenin’, Jim.” He looked up at the broad, youthful man standing before him. An imposing figure normally, Jim rose to his broad-shouldered 6’4” in response to Gunther’s presence. Jim wore a full beard and mustache that, in general, would be parted in a kind smile. Jim offered no such smile to Gunther, tonight.
Jim shifted his weight from foot to foot. “You dare to come around here in the dead of night, scaring my wife?” He spoke in a lowered voice, though his tone indicated intense anger. “I already told you. I don’t want nothin’ to do with your crazy schemes. I’m not doing it, so just get out of here.”
Gunther grinned back at Jim. His gaze roamed over the property. “Been working hard on the lawn, I see. Even in the dark, it looks thick and lush.”
“You’re not here to talk about my lawn, and I’m not playing this game with you.”
The front door swung open.
Gunther smirked at Jessie, who stepped onto the porch, carrying two beer bottles. “Hello again, Jessie. I was just telling Jim here, you and he’s fixing the place up real nice.”
Jessie looked down at the porch, her lashes obscuring her piercing, green eyes. She extended the bottle toward Gunther.
Jim took the other bottle, refusing to make eye contact with his wife. “You just enjoy. I’ll be back in the kitchen if you need anything.”
Jessie paused. When neither man said anything further, she vanished through the front door.
Gunther chuckled, enjoying the tension. “Yessir. House is looking real good, Jim. Must be getting ready to start a family. Ain’t that right? Seems like I heard that.”
“Gunther, I don’t care what you heard. There ain’t no amount of money that will make me be a part of this. I don’t need it. We’re doing just fine.”
Gunther shook his head. He intended to rub Jim’s nose in as much shit as possible. “Five glorious years of marriage, right? Got the good job, the good house, oh, and a Buick® Regal in the driveway, I see. Gave up the stock car driving. Well, that was just a craze in your youth, right? Still, you were a hell of a driver. I remember watchin’ you.”
“Stop it, Gunther. I already gave you my answer.”
Gunther nodded his head in mock acknowledgment. “Please allow me to respond, Jim. Y’see, it ain’t that easy.”
Jim stepped forward, engulfing Gunther in his shadow. “It is that easy. Now get the hell off my property, or I’ll call the cops.”
Gunther refused to be intimidated. “You either hear it from me, or I tell Jessie all about it.”
Jim rolled his eyes, the beginnings of a smile—not a friendly one—forming on his lips. “What are you talking about? You can’t threaten me.”
Gunther took a swig of beer before continuing in a mocking conversational manner. “Oh, I’m not here to threaten you about helping me, Jim. Just warn you, man to man. Keep your damn hands off Lily.”
The look of shock on Jim’s face erased Gunther’s earlier humiliations of the day.
“Are you crazy? I’ve never touched Lily Mills.”
Gunther let his eyebrows rise with a mock indignant look. “Hey, whoa now, buddy. That’s not how Lily told it. You remember. About a year ago, shortly before I met her?”
Jim placed a hand on his waist and puffed out his chest. “What kind of bullshit is this?”
Gunther shrugged. “Now, why you gotta be that way? Lily told me all about it. She ran into you at the Cat’s Cradle. You two sneaked off to the back room and started playing pool. No one else was back there, so you locked the door and ended up on the pool table.”
An angry scowl disfigured Jim’s face, and Gunther slapped Jim’s arm, then chuckled. “I tell ya. It’s amazing some of the things a woman will tell her man, whether he wants to hear them or not. Really, Jim, taking advantage of a drunken woman.”
“It wasn’t like that. Jessie and I’d had a fight.” Jim spoke with great care, spacing out his words. “Lily and I played a few rounds of pool. Drank a few beers. She kissed me once, but w
e stopped and that’s it.” Panic overcame his stone-like features. “What did she tell you?”
“She didn’t tell me nothin’, Jim, and she won’t tell Jessie nothin’, either. If you cooperate.” Gunther waited for his words to sink in.
Jim grabbed Gunther by his shirtfront and pulled him close. “You’re bluffing. You can’t possibly think you can hold something that petty over me.”
Gunther turned his head and took a swig of his beer, ignoring the grip on his shirt. He fought back the urge to swing his bottle and smash Jim’s face. The power Gunther now held over Jim, the mental anguish he’d brought to the bigger man, counted for more than the momentary satisfaction any physical blow would bring.
Gunther flashed another humorless smile. “I’ll tell you what I do know, Jim. My girl is pregnant. She’ll say or do just about anything if it will help her child. She’s certainly willing to take nothing, and make it sound like something.” He reached down, pried open Jim’s unresisting fingers, and straightened the rumpled shirt with exaggerated gentleness. “I’ll do anything, too. With or without your help.”
Jim’s shoulders slumped, and he sank onto the swing. Gunther resumed his original seat on the opposite end. “Now then, would you care to reconsider my offer?”
The words came out of Jim as little more than a whisper. “What time?”
“Tomorrow. Two o’clock. Don’t be late.” Gunther fished into his pocket and pulled out a pair of keys. He handed them to Jim, who held them loosely in his fingers.
The front door swung open. Jim’s hand snapped shut around the keys. He spun around on his wife.
“Is everything all—”
“Jessie, get in the house!” Jim ordered.
Jessie jumped back.
Jim spoke in a softened voice. “Get in the house, honey. Please. I won’t be much longer.”
Haunting Blue Page 5