by Kym Roberts
“What?” Mayor Bob’s tone lost his sing-song lilt and became more accusatory. My betrayal was a bitter pill to swallow.
“I … I…” I stuttered, guilt written all over my face.
Tommy’s smile faltered, but remained friendly. “Ms. Rilee could hardly refuse to offer me the class. That just ain’t her nature.”
But I could tell by the tightness in Bob’s shoulders and the way his lips pursed, he didn’t agree. He grabbed the Exacto knife from the counter, swiped his debit card and punched his pin number into the credit card reader. Then he turned away without waiting for his receipt. “Take care, Rilee,” he said as he brushed by the representative of his arch nemesis.
His treatment was unfair and unjust. Tommy was an employee, not the owner of Woody’s, but Bob couldn’t see beyond the neon boobs.
“Thank you, Bob...” The door slammed open against the stopper as he exited. The bell screamed in protest, leaving a hollow guilty feeling spreading across my chest.
“Don’t worry, Ms. Rilee. Mayor Bob’s just stressin’ over his kin. He’ll be back.”
I couldn’t help but smile at our lovable town bouncer. If it wasn’t for his employer, I had no doubt Tommy would fit right in with rest of the people from Tickle Creek.
“That’s very understanding of you, considering how he treated you.”
“Can’t say as I’d act different, if I was wearin’ his shoes. But I’m not, and there’s nothin’ I can do ‘bout it. So let’s get this party started.” Tommy’s shit-eatin’ grin was irresistible. I let go of the guilt and showed him to the carving shop.
Over the next half hour, our regulars gradually joined us. Most of them had signed up for the class as a social gathering or to use the extensive tools we offered for members’ use only. From the jigsaw, to the grinder, to the lathe that allowed them to tool pens, plaques and platters, each member had their own tastes and preferences, but all normally sat down to try whatever new craft Dad was teaching that day. Then they each began to work on their individual projects, which helped our business by introducing the newcomers to a variety of woodworking skills.
Once everyone was outfitted with safety gloves and thumb protectors, we sat down at the table. Myrtle had chosen the special Exacto knives made for wood carving, but Betty went all out when she spied the women’s carving set that sported hot pink handles. Tommy decided on a set with wooden grips made by FlexCut.
Dad finally took his spot at the head of a long butcher block work bench, while a couple of regulars, including our local pharmacist Brendan, stood at another table closer to the window. Tommy chose to stand with the guys that I’d always referred to as the ‘manly men’ and watched over Betty and Myrtle’s shoulders as Dad demonstrated the stop cut on the top of their spoons. The cut made way for a Santa pom-pom that would eventually flop to the side, forming a hook for hanging on a Christmas tree.
Betty squealed with delight as she finished the tip of the spoon. “Galvin, this is incredible. I can’t believe you’ve trained my hands to create something so ... amazing.”
Sitting across from Myrtle, I caught her eye-roll and looked over to see Betty caressing her spoon. The tip looked more like a piece of the male anatomy then the ball at the end of Santa’s hat.
Tommy snickered with the guys, and Brendan actually snorted through his nose a few times, his nerdy laugh giving everyone the urge to laugh harder. It was the type of noise that made the whole room warm with good spirit. But my Dad, completely oblivious to Betty’s antics, reached over and showed her how to detail the hat with more depth around the ball. A couple of the regular women joined Myrtle’s give-it-a-rest look, and the newlyweds at the end of the table were getting friendly under the table. At their age you’d think they’d save it for later, but we all knew they took playing footsie to another level.
The class progressed with students moving down to the fur brim, then on to Santa’s eyes. By then the group was ready for a break, and we all got up to walk around and work the kinks out of our bodies. Tommy talked to my father and a couple of the guys, while Betty took a bathroom break and Myrtle went out to her car to get a pillow for her aching back. I was always grateful when the break produced sales of tools and other supplies, but other than our resident newlyweds’ purchase of wood blanks and patterns, today was a bit slow. So I began opening mail, hoping to find a special carving book I’d ordered.
I suppressed a groan at the amount of my electric bill, but couldn’t help the sigh that came out when I saw the premium was due on my car insurance. I tossed the grocery ads in my recycle bin and opened the large manila envelope on the bottom. I reached inside and pulled out several small squares of paper, which at a quick glance appeared to be drug prescriptions. Confused, I looked deeper into the package, saw two very large prescription bottles, and immediately knew the package wasn’t mine. I glanced at the front and cringed. I’d opened someone else’s mail. I quickly stuffed the scripts back into the envelope, grabbed a role of tape and resealed it.
Dad was talking to Tommy, who obviously wanted to play matchmaker for Betty as he wiggled her into the conversation. “Miss Betty seems to be a natural. I’m bettin’ she’ll be forming a whole litter of stocking hats faster than you can shake a stick at.”
Betty blushed and I wasn’t sure if it was contrived or genuine. It was the perfect timing for me to call Tommy away. “Tommy?”
He looked up and whispered, “Excuse me, folks.” Before heading my direction. “What can I do you for, Ms. Rilee?”
“I opened this before I realized it wasn’t mine. It’s addressed to a BK Warren in care of Woody’s. Could you take it to Woody’s when you leave?”
“Sure thing, Ms. Rilee. I’ll make sure she gets it.” He folded it and stuck it in his rear jeans pocket.
“Thank—” A tentative tap on my shoulder caused me to turn and find Myrtle standing behind me, her expression riddled with concern, her eyes dilated and her breathing a bit labored. “I went out to my car and there was a man sneaking around the cars.”
Tommy beat me to the punch, his voice losing its humor. “Did he harm ya, Miss Myrtle?”
“No, no. But, my car had two flat tires where he’d been standing. He took off around the back of Woody’s.”
The vandal had struck again. But his MO was changing. Myrtle wasn’t Woody’s customer, she was my customer. Just like Ryan — before he died.
Chapter Thirteen
Taking her forearm, I led a somewhat shaky Myrtle to my chair behind the register while Betty went to get her a bottle of water out of the shop. I looked up and spied a red flannel shirt heading for the front door.
“Dad, you don’t need to be going out there!” I yelled as he joined the other men exiting the shop. My heart pounded at the thought of losing him to an axe murderer.
“Pfft.” Dad waved me off and disappeared.
“Honey, he wouldn’t be a man if he didn’t risk his neck every now and then. Don’t take it away from him.” Betty handed Myrtle her water and headed for the door.
Myrtle gained enough composure to question her friend’s sanity. “Where are you going? Shouldn’t someone call the police?”
“Well what type of woman would I be if I didn’t watch the men show off their masculinity?” Betty replied.
“You’d be the only one in the entire group with half a brain.” I snapped.
“Pfft.” Betty’s response matched my dad’s and I wondered if maybe I was the one who was going to have a heart attack if the two of them got together.
Myrtle pushed herself up and followed Betty’s lead. “May as well join them, we’re certainly not going to stop them.”
The young bride in her fifties followed like a little duckling scurrying after its mom.
“Has everyone lost their mind?” I asked my sculptures since they were the only ones left in my barren shop.
Grabbing my cell phone, I dialed 911 as the bell jingled my departure out the door. The morning fog had burned off and my Dad squinte
d at the tires on Myrtle’s vehicle, no killers in sight. Tommy and the guys were looking toward the woods and Betty led the women in ogling the men’s prowess.
It was actually pretty pathetic. A serial killer would have a hay day.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
“I’d like to report a ...” What the heck did you call this? I’m definitely not cut out for criminal code talk, I wondered if I should start watching some police shows. “...someone flattened the tires on a car in my parking lot.”
“What is the address ma’am?”
“518 Yocum Loop, Tickle Creek.”
“Is the suspect still there?” She asked.
The image of a young woman twirling a long strand of blond hair and doodling on a piece of paper popped into my head. I glanced around at the members of my carving group, counting each one to make sure no one had been carted off into the woods. “I don’t think so...”
“Is there any other damage?” Her voice held that same tone Officer Martin had used while collecting information — a ho-hum ‘nuther day at the office kind of attitude. I pushed through my frazzled nerves and made sure everyone who’d been in my shop was still living and breathing.
“I don’t think so ... but he scared one of my customers.”
“Was anyone injured?”
“No...” What if there was another dead body sitting in the vehicle. Is that what my Dad was looking at? “Dad?” I called to him, “Is everything okay?”
My Dad gave me a look I couldn’t read and began walking over to me. “It’s a couple of tires, Rilee. Why are you shaking?”
I looked down at my hand that still held the phone to my face. Sure enough, I couldn’t have held it still if I tried. “I – I don’t know.”
The call taker repeated her question. “Ma’am? Was anyone injured?” “No. Everyone’s fine.” I let go of the breath I was holding.
“Can you describe the suspect?” She was back to business and that familiar keyboard click echoed in the background.
“Myrtle, can you describe the man?” I asked.
“He looked tall ... really tall, and he walked...” She scratched her blue head full of hair. “I don’t know; there was something funny about his walk.”
I relayed the information as my mind immediately went to Stone.
“Does she know what he was wearing?”
“Do you know what he was wearing?” I asked Myrtle who looked to Betty for help.
Betty shrugged.
“Dark?” Myrtle replied. She looked at me as if I knew the answer to what the man she saw was wearing.
“She’s not sure, but she thinks it was dark clothing.” I relayed to the operator.
“Okay. An officer will be there in the next hour.”
“The next hour?” Who was she kidding? What good would it do anyone for an officer to come an hour from now?
“Yes ma’am. A property damage call doesn’t get the same level of response time as an assault.”
“Oh. Thank you.” What could I say? Of course I didn’t want to take an officer away from someone who was injured, but what if the suspect came back ... what if it was Stone? Who was I kidding? Deep down I knew it couldn’t be anyone else but him. He seemed to always be around when something happened.
I ended the call and put my phone in my pocket.
My dad was right by my side, watching my face for every little tremor. “What has you so spooked? It’s not like we haven’t seen cars vandalized before?”
True, yet I didn’t think this was the time or place to confess my suspicions in front of everyone else. “I thought Myrtle’s description sounded ... familiar.”
“There isn’t anyone in town who’s really tall, and the only one that walks funny is Bob, but that’s because he waddles.” Dad studied my face.
Picturing the mayor, I smiled.
Unfortunately my dad caught on. “Wait a minute ... the ladies in the cafe said your new boyfriend was a big man.” I averted Dad’s look, unable to lie and say I didn’t think Stone was the man Myrtle had seen. Dad, however, wasn’t going to let me hide from the truth. “He limped when he carried you.”
Myrtle’s description had dropped another bomb that I wasn’t ready to detonate in front of my father. Sometimes the less he knew the better.
Except she didn’t leave it alone. “Is it because you found that poor man in the woods the other day?”
Praying my Dad, didn’t hear I said, “It wasn’t Stone, dad.”
Unfortunately, my prayers went unanswered.
“That was you, Rilee? How – horrible!” The new bride, Kelly, no longer clung to her husband in a sexual manner. Instead she clutched him in an escape the-girl-who-had dead-guy-cooties manner, as if I could possibly turn her into a dead body as well.
Dad joined the dreaded conversation as he reached for his ear to turn up his hearing aid. “What’s horrible?”
“You didn’t tell your pa?” Tommy chimed in with a chastising voice that held volumes of disapproval. He probably thought I should have run straight for the support of the only man I allowed in my life. Then he turned and broke the news to my dad without any hesitation. “Ms. Rilee found the body on the tracks, Mr. Dust.”
My dad’s brow began furrowing like the deep stop cut lines he’d taught the class. “A dog, a dangerous man, and a dead body. What else have you kept from me?”
Everyone stood in a circle around me, watching, wanting to know what was coming next. Guilt consumed me. Like when I was twenty and snuck out to go drinking with some of my friends. I’d ended up drawing the short stick and was stuck being the designated driver while everyone else partied. My taxi driving duties left me with barf splattered from the passenger window, all the way down the side of my VW Bug. Dad had stood at the front door with his arms crossed when I finally got home, face tightened with disapproval. He’d given me a field sobriety test — not exactly a common skill for a retired government employee, and when I passed with flying colors, he marched me out to the driveway, hooked up the hose, and made me wash my car at three o’clock in the morning. Exhausted and bitter over a whole night spent babysitting everyone else’s good time, the forty degrees and brisk wind was nothing compared to the silent treatment of the man watching me from the window of our cozy front room. He didn’t speak to me for a week.
I learned later, that it wasn’t because he was mad at me, but because I’d scared the crap out of him and he didn’t know how to deal with the fear. And judging from the look he was giving me right now, he was remembering that same fear for his daughter’s safety.
“A daughter never wants to worry her father after the fact. It’s wasted energy.” Betty chimed in on our personal conversation, but it seemed to involve the entire group.
Dad’s hardline glare challenged the woman defending my secrets. If Betty was hoping for a love connection, her lecturing tone had washed away any chance she had with my father. But to my surprise, Betty didn’t back down, my father did.
“I guess you’re not in high school anymore, if you’re okay, that’s all that matters.” Everyone breathed a sigh of relief and turned back to Myrtle’s little blue SUV.
“The police won’t be here for an hour.” I relayed to Myrtle.
Brendan put his arm around Myrtle and gave her a squeeze. “That’s the spirit.” Despite his nerdy little black glasses and small stature, Brendan had a quality that made women feel protected. I could have hugged him myself for taking care of my customer.
“That’s fine.” Her voice stronger than before, she announced, “Why don’t we go back and finish our Santas.”
Everyone agreed there was nothing to be done at that point and headed back to the workshop.
Dad hung back and placed his arm around my shoulder. “Are you really okay?”
His worry line still evident, I slipped my arm around his waist and squeezed. “I’m fine, Dad. It was an accidental death. I’m just glad I found his body and gave his family closure.”
Dad un
derstood what it meant to me to have closure. All I had was a charred brick fireplace jutting in the air — a huge headstone marking the graves of Missy’s parents and Jacob. The couple had died in the tomb-like basement, their remains located together in the corner. A burned out metal skeleton of Jacob’s SUV was found near the barn. But Jacob had just ceased to exist — gone from my life — forever leaving a hint of irrational doubt.
The rest of the class went without a hitch. Soon after Santa’s beards had been gouged in the spoons, a female officer arrived and spoke to Myrtle and me, while the others completed and sanded their projects smooth. This officer didn’t have ‘the tone’ I’d come to expect. She took Myrtle’s information gently, and made her feel at ease throughout the conversation with eye contact and head bobs at all the right moments. Then she had Myrtle call her roadside assistance and waited for them to arrive in order to inspect the damage further.
A bright blue 50’s model Ford pulled into the lot a short time later with the words Hook, Line and Tinker painted on the side. The tow truck looked like it belonged in times past, but the finish was as shiny and clean as if it had just come off the assembly line. And the tow package was the best in the county.
The driver got out of the truck with a warm smile. “Rilee, did that battery operated toy you drive give out on you?”
Shea had gone to school with my husband and was supposed to be a groomsman at our wedding, and like the truck he drove, the man was all about the muscle under the hood.
“While you’re out filling up for the 3rd time, I’m saving the environment.” I shot back.
Shea’s smile turned up a notch and he turned to shake the hands of the officer and Myrtle. “Shea Blue from Hook, Line and Tinker. How can I be of service?”
“The tires on her vehicle have been cut. There’s been a rash of property damage to vehicles at this location. I was hoping to get a better look at the damage while you had it off the ground,” the officer explained.
Shea’s face turned stern and his eyes caught mine. “Does your Dad know about all this?”