All You Want

by Rachelle Ayala

They don’t have a clue who I am, and I’m discovering how much I like being incognito. It’s something I’ve never had—the gift of being anonymous.

  All my life, everyone in town knew I was Todd Colson, the oldest son of Joe and Minx Colson. Everyone knew my mother left us to be a free-spirit artist. Since I’m the oldest in a large family of kids, I never had any privacy.

  My brothers and sisters looked up to me, and I was always in the spotlight. I had to set an example. I protected them, punched a few noses, carried them on my back when they were tired or sick, and watched over them.

  Always watching.

  A man can get tired of watching and never letting down his guard.

  “Dance with me, big bad boy,” Larissa, the fox woman, says. She’s a vivacious redhead who used to be the social secretary of Tami’s sorority. That surprises me, because I would have thought that job would go to Tami. Apparently, as bubbly as Tami is around our town, she was the treasurer and the sensible one in her sorority.

  The other two are equally outrageous. The brunette is a dancer from tap to ballet to belly dancing, and she loves to travel. The tall blonde is athletic and fancies herself a warrior—at least online in the many video games she’s obsessed with.

  One thing they all have in common—they’re unabashed flirts. We’ve already had dinner, and even though I sat next to Tami, she was up and around the dining room meeting and greeting the hotel guests.

  She’s so popular, outgoing, bubbly, and exciting. I can’t see her sticking around someone as boring as me, but I figure she flirts with me to keep from getting speeding tickets.

  I hold out my hands for Larissa, keeping her from pressing against me while we waltz around the dance floor to a macabre rendition of heavy-metal dance music.

  “Tell me your name,” Larissa shouts above the music which is full of spooky owls hooting and maniacal laughter.

  I grunt and keep moving so I can spot any potential dangers.

  “I can’t wait to get you in the dark and unmask you,” she persists. “Are you an escaped convict? Is that why you won’t tell me your name?”

  I shake my head, but she’s not going to get me to speak. I’m enjoying being a mystery man, or mystery Sasquatch.

  Pow! Sizzle. Crackle.

  The electric lights go out. A few members of the band keep singing, but their electric guitars are silent. A lone fiddle keeps playing, along with the drums.

  There’s still light from the fireplace, as well as the blue glow of emergency lights. An atmosphere of expectation hovers over the gathering, as if the lights going out is part of the plan.

  “Hold on to me, big guy, I’m scared.” Larissa squeezes my fingers.

  I gently try to disengage. A crime could be in progress, and I have to be ready to take action.

  She clings on tighter, pulling the fur on my costume. Her cloying perfume, too musky for my taste, bombards my nostrils and heightens the aura of danger.

  “Don’t leave me.” She grabs my vest, forcing me to twist my hand away from her and give her a light push as I angle my way toward the hotel’s lobby to secure the entrance.

  “Ow …” she squeals, even though I know I didn’t hurt her. Instead, she rips the fur-covered glove from my hand. “I’ll find you, Bigfoot. If the glove fits …”

  I lose her in the hubbub of the crowd. There’s no panic yet, because people think this is part of an act. They stream toward the grand staircase as a ghostly voice sounds from above.

  “Wooo … Gather round, or maybe not, and try to find the lost ladies of the Bee Sting Bordello.” The voice sounds like Molly. “Follow me on a journey back in time to the days of the Gold Rush.”

  Flickering twinkle lights scatter along the staircase, and a pair of white-gloved hands beckon the partiers toward the grand hallway.

  Sure enough, holographic images of ghastly figures float up and down the sweeping stairway, and a dry ice mist shrouds the concierge’s counter.

  Like lemmings, the guests follow the direction of the ghostly hands which point them toward the gallery filled with photos and artifacts from the Gold Rush days.

  I’ve already seen the historical exhibit, so I wander around the windows and doorways looking for Tami. I last saw her taking her mom and dad to their room upstairs, and since the crowd is blocking the main staircase, I find the service stairs and sneak up that way.

  I turn on the landing and stop when I hear her voice.

  “I don’t owe you anything else,” she says. “We signed a contract.”

  “That was before you made the last-minute changes,” Evan Graves replies. “I know you’re up to your eyeballs in debt, and I can be flexible.”

  “You verbally agreed to the changes,” Tami counters. “Said they were minor details.”

  “Holographic imaging isn’t cheap, but I’m a very accommodating man. You know that.” Evan’s voice is greased with sleaze. “We have a long history of working together.”

  My muscles bunch up, and it takes everything I have not to charge up there and bash his head in. I have to remember I’m incognito, and while I’ll interrupt if Tami’s in danger, I’m also curious to know what Evan has on Tami, because it’s sounding like extortion.

  “I thought you said we were even Steven after this deal. I brought you in to give your reality show a boost.”

  “And I’m the one putting your hotel on the map. My name recognition. My fame. My social media following. I think you owe me even more for this successful grand opening.”

  “Sorry, but you can’t keep upping the price.” Tami’s voice hardens. “I know you have stuff you’re holding over me, but it’s your word against mine, and you have no proof.”

  “Such bravado.” Evan laughs. “You and I both know what I have on you. It would be sad if your parents were to get a glimpse. Like I said, you don’t have to pay me with money.”

  “Please, Evan, don’t.” Tami’s voice is muffled in between kissing sounds.

  “Hey,” I growl deep in my throat and step in between them.

  “Oh, Bigfoot!” Tami squeals, falling back against the wall. “Did you get lost? This side isn’t open to the public.”

  I know she’s pretending I’m not the sheriff, so without a word, I grab her hand and lead her back down the service stairs.

  I’m so pissed that I drag her through the kitchen and out the back door to the loading dock. I know I’m squeezing her hand too tight, but no one threatens Tami without me interfering.

  “I need to get back to the party,” Tami says. “The ghost hunting is about to start.”

  “What was that I walked into?” I find a nook near the dumpster behind a pile of pallets where we won’t be seen.

  “Nothing.”

  “He’s threatening you, and I want to know why.”

  “It’s obvious you’ve been eavesdropping,” she says tartly. “I can’t see why this is any of your business.”

  “I’m your personal protection.”

  “And you stopped him from hurting me. Good job, Sheriff Sasquatch.”

  “Tami, please.” I touch her chin. “I want to know what kind of danger you’re in.”

  “No, you want to know my personal business and what my relationship to Evan is.”

  “Because I care about you. Can’t you see? If he’s threatening you, then it is my business.”

  Tami sighs loudly and leans against me as if she’s a deflated balloon. “If you cared about me, why are we sneaking around like you’re a married man? We can’t even go on a date, and I can’t tell my best friend about us. You’re not married, are you?”

  “No, not married, and we’re not sneaking around.”

  She grabs my mask and peels it from my face. “Then there’s no need to hide who you are. I know what’s going on, Todd. You’re ashamed of me, so you concoct this undercover security gig based on a dead raccoon and a rock with a happy face note.”

  “I’m not ashamed of you.” I stare into her piercing blue eyes. “No, it’s not that
. You don’t understand.”

  “Then try me. Tell me, Todd. Is it because I’m fat? Or I’m your sister’s best friend? Or maybe I stink?”

  “No, no, Tami, none of that. You’re beautiful, and you’re a wonderful person. You’re peppy, and you brighten everyone’s day, just being around you.”

  “Then why do men treat me like a sidepiece? They don’t want to be seen with me.”

  “Men? Who’s they? How many?” I feel punched in the gut as the realization dawns on me. “Was Evan one of them? Is he still involved with you?”

  “He thinks he is.” She bites her lip. “Especially since he’s working so closely with me.”

  “How closely?” My voice is too loud, and she blinks, backing away from me. I can’t help it. What if she’s better matched with Evan? They’re both college graduates and have common business interests working in the hospitality and entertainment industry.

  “Todd, it’s really not your business.” She flings the mask over my shoulder, and it lands near the dumpster. “I have to get back to the ghost hunt. Everything’s going well here, and everyone’s having a good time. You should go back to the town square and let Shane have some time off. I’m sure he’d like to see the fireworks we have planned at midnight.”

  “You don’t have a permit for fireworks.” My brain isn’t engaging because she’s dismissing me, and I fall back to my official posture.

  She whips her hatpin from her head and points it toward me. “Then arrest me, Sheriff Scrooge.”

  I want to grab her and hold her tight. But she’s unmasked me and doesn’t want my help. Doesn’t mean I’m giving up on her. If Evan’s threatening her, then I need to know what it is, and I’m betting there’s a criminal coverup somewhere in the past—maybe more than one.

  Twenty-Two

  ~ Todd ~

  There’s no rest for the wicked, hence no rest for the wary. The night is still young, and I need to check in at the station and make sure all is well at the town square festival.

  I drive to my cabin and change out of my costume. It’s lonely up in this neck of the woods, and there’s no traffic because everyone is in town for Spooky Fest or at Tami’s grand opening.

  I’m on my way back to the police station when my phone rings. It’s Miss Laverne Pine.

  “How are you this evening? Is everything okay?”

  “Oh, yes, it is. Thanks for setting up the pots of candy for me,” she says.

  “I’m on my way back to town if you need anything.”

  “I don’t want to bother you, Todd, dear, but you know how you told me to keep an eye out for suspicious characters?”

  “Yes, are you okay?” Concern immediately floods me. It’s hard for Miss Laverne to live alone, but she’s as stubborn as the hills, and she keeps a loaded shotgun.

  “I think so, but would you think I’m a crazy old bat if I saw a ghost?” She giggles and adds, “It’s not a trick or treater or anyone wearing a sheet.”

  “Did they bother you? Threaten you in any way?”

  “Oh, nothing of the sort. It’s someone I thought was dead long ago, and I got quite a shock. I was out back getting firewood, and I saw her. She was picking up horse chestnuts.”

  “Does she know they’re poisonous?”

  “I was about to say something, but the wind blew my kitchen door shut, and I dropped the wood. When I looked again, she wasn’t there. It was the freakiest thing, because I thought I knew her.”

  “Are you sure she was picking up horse chestnuts and not looking to break and enter?”

  “She left,” Miss Laverne says. “I got a flashlight and went to look for footprints. The pile of horse chestnuts I was saving to make Christmas ornaments was gone, if you count that as stealing.”

  “It is at least trespassing. If she wanted what you collected, she should have asked. What do you think she wanted them for?”

  “She might be from the city, and maybe she doesn’t know they’re poisonous. Thought she’d roast them on an open fire or something. Oh my, do you think we should warn her?”

  “We don’t even know if she’s a ghost. You sure you’re not pulling my leg?”

  “Oh, I’m serious Tiberius,” she says. “I heard her talking to someone about making chestnut tea. Maybe you should put out a public service announcement not to eat horse chestnuts or buckeyes.”

  “I’ll do that, Miss Laverne. Let me know if you need anything else.”

  “I know you’re busy, Sheriff, but I could use some help opening my flue. It’s rusty and gets stuck, but it’s no hurry.”

  “Actually, it might snow either tonight or tomorrow night. I’ll come by now.”

  “You don’t have to, not if you’re busy,” Miss Laverne insists.

  I’m always busy, but Shane can wait. The temperature could drop overnight, and I want to make sure Miss Laverne is safe.

  “Never too busy for you. I’ll be by.” I hang up and make the turn toward her place. It’s near a gulch formed by the effects of hydraulic mining where rocks were crushed, forming beds of gravel between the denuded hillsides. After a heavy rainfall, bits and pieces of gold are washed from the gravel beds and outcrops jutting from the hillside. The chance of finding easy gold on the surface attracts trespassers to her place.

  Miss Laverne’s waiting for me on the porch, bundled up in a down coat and holding an oil lantern. I help her carry in a load of firewood, then bend over to check the damper lever inside her fireplace.

  It’s stuck in a closed position.

  I stick a flashlight up to see what the obstruction is. There’s a ledge where the damper door sits, and the lever forms an “F” shape where the top piece pushes the damper open and the middle piece is attached to the bottom of the flue.

  A metal box is wedged between the rungs of the “F.”

  “Did you hide something up the chimney?” I ask Miss Laverne.

  “No, why would I put anything in there?” She cranes her neck to look. “What is that?”

  “It looks like an old box.” I wiggle the box from the two prongs of the damper lever and hand it to her. “While I’m here, let me oil it so you won’t have any further problems.”

  I go to my pickup truck and grab a can of WD-40. After soaking the damper hinges good, I flick the lever back and forth to make sure it’s smooth.

  “That ought to do it.” I leave the flue open. “Shall I put wood in and start the fire?”

  “I can do that. Thanks so much, Sheriff,” Miss Laverne says. “Can you help me open this box? It’s also stuck.”

  I spray WD-40 on the hinges and wiggle the latch. “You have any idea where this box came from?”

  “It wasn’t there last winter,” she says. “I wonder if one of my book club friends left it here, but why hide it?”

  I flip the box open, and it’s full of old letters and papers. “Looks like you got yourself a proper mystery.”

  “I’m sure Viola would love to get a look at these.” She holds up what looks like an official document. “Maybe I shouldn’t touch these without gloves.”

  “Have fun looking through them.” I wipe the soot and oil off my hands with a paper towel. “Let me know if you find anything interesting.”

  “Like a love letter or two?” She sets the box on her coffee table and tiptoes to kiss my cheek. “Thanks, Sheriff. You’re a hero.”

  I’m not much of a hero when I get to the station.

  Shane frowns and checks his watch. “Where were you all evening? Folks said you were at the town square, but no one saw you.”

  I’m not about to answer to him, so I interrogate him instead. “Anything happen worth reporting?”

  He shrugs and leans back with his feet on the desk. “Nothing but lost children which we reunited with their parents and teenagers letting goats loose from the petting zoo. Other than that, the festival went off without a hitch.”

  “How about across the creek? Get any calls?” I stand over him in a position of authority with my hands on my hips.
>
  He gets the message and takes his feet off my desk. “You mean ATC where Tami’s having her big hoodoo? A fender bender and a disturbing the peace by your deputies.”

  “What did they do?”

  He tilts his chin toward the holding cell. “Threw them in the drunk tank.”

  “Al Norman one of them?”

  “Al, Dillon, and Justin.” He waggles his eyebrows. “Surprised?”

  “Al and Dillon, I expect, but Justin? He claims to be the smart one. Why would he get rowdy?”

  “Beats me. They’re your buddies, not mine.”

  While it’s true Justin was the class valedictorian, for some strange reason, he never went to college. Instead, he made do by fixing computers, printing flyers and church programs, and doing websites for local businesses.

  Shane shrugs, because he doesn’t know the local boys or their roles in high school.

  “I’ll talk to them. Anything else?” I flip through the stack of incident reports.

  “Definitely not the crime wave we have in San Francisco. No smash and grabs, no one defecating on the sidewalk, no thefts, assaults, stabbings, and shootings. I’d say it’s about the tamest night before Halloween I’ve ever experienced.”

  “Good thing,” I concur. “Tomorrow’s the door-to-door trick or treating. It’s traditional to go through all the phases. Children before dusk, then teens right after the sun goes down, and adults up to midnight.”

  “People still go door-to-door around here?” Shane throws up a disbelieving eyebrow. “Seems unsafe.”

  “It’s a neighborly thing to do and gives people a chance to visit and one-up each other’s costumes and decorations.”

  “Wish I could participate,” Shane says. “We’re always on duty. Now that you’re here, you mind if I head over to the fireworks show?”

  “Sure, go ahead. Just keep your phone on in case I need you.” I dismiss him and head to the drunk tank to check on Al, Dillon, and Justin.

  “Boy, am I glad you’re here.” Justin sweeps his sandy hair over his forehead and flashes me an apologetic shrug. His costume is dirty and torn, what’s left of a mummy’s rags over black sweats. “We weren’t making trouble at all. That Officer Donnelly’s so strict. We were just having fun.”