by Shelly Frome
The next best thing Josh could think of was to drive to the cinderblock building that housed the local Sheriff’s Department and jail and take it from there. He hadn’t gone more than a quarter of a mile when he spotted Sonny Drew’s cruiser on the side of the road next to an overgrown vacant lot. There he found Drew waving what looked like a baton alongside the unmistakable squat form, bright orange suspenders and snow white hair that belonged to Strother. Josh pulled over, got out and went straight over to them. Josh tried his damnedest to intervene, but Drew was fully engaged in his demo.
“Side handle, Strother,” Drew said. “Better step further away. This here’s a rapid draw, latest thing.”
Josh even waved his hands but to no avail. Turning his back on Josh, with the holster in breakaway mode behind his right hip, Drew braced himself against an attack by an imaginary assailant coming at him through the weeds. He announced that despite his slight frame, he was taking on a “big strapping fella,” reached back with one hand, whipped out the baton and blocked a phantom blow aimed at his head, rotated the baton to a striking position and lashed out. Then, as if in close quarters, Drew was about to thrust upwards with the handle when Josh stepped right in front of him and grabbed the baton.
“Damn,” said Drew, “you crazy? What you doing? And what the hell you doing back here anyways?”
“Yeah,” Strother said. “Thing is, you could’ve at least waited. Sonny was practicing real good.”
“Well,” Josh said, still rattled by his scuffle with Darryl, “instead of practicing, it would’ve been a damn sight better if he’d been patrolling and actually used the damn thing.”
“Now what is that supposed to mean?” said Drew.
“It means, I suggest you get back in your cruiser and put out an APB or whatever you call it.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Darryl. I assume you know him well enough and can put him in custody before he does some more damage.”
“Hold on, hold on,” Drew said as Strother moved in closer to catch every word.
Josh tried to sketch in what had just happened but was barely able to hold Drew’s attention. Drew’s eyes were glued to the baton which he kept tapping on his open palm. His thin lips and nondescript features revealed little. Only the tight quaver in his voice and the continual nervous tapping gave Josh the clue that he’d caught Deputy Drew in some kind of bind.
Breaking in, Strother struck a wooden match, lit one of his bent cigarettes, pocketed the match box, tilted his round reddish face up at Josh like a wise little elf and said, “Procedure. Sonny likes to do it by the book. Make real double sure while also making a good impression seeing how things are going.”
“Now you shut up, Strother. Things are going fine. I am doing just fine.”
“Great,” said Josh. “So what’s it going to take? Do I have to go on to the station, get hold of your boss—”
“Chief Deputy,” Strother piped in. “Clay Tucker.”
“I told you to shut up,” Drew said, holstering the baton, flipping out his notepad and pen. “I am on this. I’m calling nothing in but neither am I shutting my eyes or turning a deaf ear.”
A few murmurs and mutters as Drew made some cursory notes and then crossed them out. “You know what? I’ve got to tell you this smacks of assault ‘cause everybody knows Darryl is just a joker. Or possible criminal mischief. Or creating a nuisance while you test how we do business here seeing that you’re now dressed for the part and no longer trying to play us for a fool.”
“I don’t believe this. I came to you for some help.”
“Hold on a second,” Strother said, puffing away at the dregs of his cigarette, leading Josh away and out of earshot.
Leaning against the hood of the truck, Strother reminded Josh how skittish Sonny Drew was, afraid that any day now he’d get laid off due to all the new budget cuts. True, Sonny was dying to prove his worth, but not on the side of some pushy out-of-towner. Matter of fact, if Josh pushed it any further, more likely than not, Sonny would haul him to the scene of the incident, demand corroboration from the girl, who was a truant to begin with, and had apparently flown the coop besides. Which, taken together, only gave Sonny more ammunition to trump up even more charges against Josh.
“Why are you telling me this?” Josh said, as Strother stubbed out the butt of his cigarette on the side of the road.
Strother gave Josh a conspiratorial grin.
“Oh, I get it. It’s another tit for tat.”
Drew called out that Strother himself could be cited as well for interference or something just like it. Strother asked for one more minute to settle this thing to everybody’s advantage.
Then back to Josh with a pat on the back. “You’re good. Saw right through me. But consider this. You said Darryl was shaking the girl to pieces because he wanted to know about him. So, since you don’t know who that him is and you’re so all-fired interested . . .”
“Go on.”
“Well, seeing how you’re no longer in disguise and lost sight of your informant. And seeing how the boys in the back room are now screaming at me to quit playing it close to the vest and either put up or get lost . . .”
“Come on, Strother, let’s have it.”
“I can give you a bead on who that him is, get Sonny off your back and get Sonny to hogtie Darryl. All told, I am offering you a leg up. And all you have to do is give me the skinny on how to cowboy it without losing my shirt.”
“Meaning what exactly?”
“One dang little clue about exact percentages I can write down and give a look-see so’s I know whether to stay in and maybe clean up a little.”
Obviously, the last thing Josh needed was to get caught up in any more stupidity. At the same time, if he could at least put a lid on Darryl’s movements . . .
Glancing at his watch, he figured if he juggled things just right, he could leave things in some semblance of order, some feeling that things were more or less squared away around these parts. Then, he could still get on track with his deliveries, link up with LuAnn and Alice and pick up the pieces. In any case, anything remotely productive would be a damn sight better than this.
“Okay,” Josh said, “you manage to get Darryl stowed away and give me a line on what in the world he’s after. I, in turn, give you a line on the percentages.”
Beaming up at him, as elfin as ever, Strother said, “Done deal,” and went straight back to Sonny Drew.
While Strother was at it, waving his hands like a crossing guard, Josh reached inside the cab of the truck and ripped out a sheet from his journal. Off the top of his head, he set about trying to remember the percentages for a four-to-five-handed game while listening in as Strother made his case on Josh’s behalf. It seems Strother was warning Drew that if the girl pressed charges and Chief Deputy Clay Tucker got wind that Drew harassed a federal agent instead of putting the screws on Darryl, Drew would be down the tubes for sure. To cover his butt, the best thing for it was to make sure he took down Josh’s statement, corralled Darryl and got one from him, and warned him to damn well stay put.
How Drew took all this was impossible to tell because Strother did all the talking. The good thing was the strong possibility that Drew couldn’t afford even the thought by the powers that be that he might be shirking his duty.
Back to placating Strother, the best Josh could come up with were the standard odds known by one and all. Namely, at the outset, eyeing the two cards you’ve been dealt face down in the hole, the higher the pair, the greater the percentage you can bet, raise and win. Naturally, you don’t know what you’re betting against, just like Josh himself had no clue what he was betting against.
Scribbling faster, Josh noted that the percentages were much better with a high pocket pair; next best for a slightly lower pocket pair; next a great suited overcard like a king and a nine or a jack and a queen. More or less, he sketched in 80% for two kings, etc.; 60 % for a lesser pair but high enough; 50% for a suited overcard, an
d so on.
As he finished, in a moment of weakness he couldn’t help feeling a tinge of jealousy. He had no ace in the hole, no pocket pair or anything like it. No idea what he was getting into and absolutely nothing going for him. Moreover, Strother had paid his dues in life and was merely messing around among friends with nothing much to lose, nothing hanging in the balance, no one in harms way if he failed. Strother could well afford that elfin grin.
Shuffling back over to Josh as Drew slid behind the wheel of his cruiser and sped off, Strother took his time studying the percentages, winked, folded the paper and tucked it neatly in the pocket of his flannel shirt. Continuing on in this silly conspiratorial mode, Strother asked for another sheet of paper and the loan of Josh’s pen. He wrote down a few words, folded it just as neatly and handed it over.
“What is this, Strother? Couldn’t you have just told me?”
“More fun this way. In any case, you never know who might come by and spot me whispering in your ear. For instance, those ol’ boys I play with, especially Big Ed, have me pegged as some kinda weaselly fella. But I got it in mind to take ‘em on straight up and they can put that in their pipe and smoke it.”
“Fine. Is Sonny Drew going to keep Darryl in check, yes or no?”
“Is rain water wet? Does a cat have a tail?”
Not bothering to answer, Josh slipped back in the cab of the truck but before he could start the engine, Strother was out there peering up at him again. “However, you’re gonna want to know for sure Darryl is back in his pen so you can go about your business without all the time looking over your shoulder. So you’ll still need me.”
Barely able to put up with him a second longer, Josh said, “What are you trying to say?”
“Simple. You can call me back at Cody’s. If I’m racking up some cash for the grandkids’ Christmas presents, I’ll tell you how things stand. If not, that’s that and you and me are quits.”
“Fine, whatever.” Out of his rearview mirror Josh could see a barrel-chested figure striding toward them, his arms spread out signaling he’d reached the end of his patience.
“Whoops,” Strother said, backing away. “Speaking of which, here comes Big Ed. Fit to be tied, I reckon, and about to haul me back to the gaming table. Sorry, fella, it’s been fun. But I can’t stand around here and gab any longer. Got bigger fish to fry.”
Josh gunned the motor and took off, headed for Ada Mae’s Dixie Dollar. His early morning plan of plying Alice with a hearty breakfast while learning what in the world she was up to was as plausible as expecting Sonny Drew to do the right thing and come to Alice’s aid.
. . .
Josh could tell he was not about to get any information from Ada Mae until he passed some kind of test. Dressed in a beige sack dress which did nothing to hide her skinny frame, she climbed up the short wooden ladder to hang up more dollar packets of Luminessence tealight candles, turned her pinched face, sized him up once again and said, “Well?”
Josh waited until a portly lady, the only early customer in the store, scurried away from the Kitchen Essentials racks and headed up the aisle to examine Table Settings Essentials. At that point, Josh said, “No, ma’am, I am not in cahoots with either Darryl or the devil. I am on my own.”
Shaking her head, Ada Mae said, “Funny how folks think they know what they’re doin’. Truth is, the thing that’s really brought them to this pass comes from beyond.”
Holding up Strother’s cryptic note, he repeated himself yet again. “Lady, I am simply here to help Alice who got into some kind of trouble the other day and even worse today.”
“Exactly. And worse still everyday of her life till she darn well repents.”
“Nevertheless, if you can decipher this note and tell me how it all got started, I can try my best to step in and put it all to rest.”
“And why on Earth would a city fella who has no business messin’ with the likes of Alice want to do that?”
Luckily, this time Ada Mae did not go on about how her own younger sister had fallen from grace into a den of demon spirits dwelling in factory towns like the ones Josh was from. Nor did she continue to refer to Alice as the “offspring of affliction and godless mating.”
Training her squinty eyes directly at him, she said, “Now I will admit you are nice-looking and seem to be harmless and bright. But good looks and brightness are deceiving when Satan sends in one of his minions. There is a world of difference between spiritual wisdom and other kinds of smarts, especially street smarts. You take what led Alice astray so she came down with street smarts and a bratty mouth and landed her in whatever fix she is in ‘stead of picking up on my wisdom through the good graces of my angel Gabriel.”
“Well, lady,” Josh said, barely able to keep up this pointless banter, “rest assured I have no street smarts. And for the umpteenth time I’m not one of anyone’s minions.”
“And how you figure that ‘less you been called?”
“Who knows? Who cares? The fact is, Alice is hurting and in no shape mentally or physically to fend for herself. And if you can’t lift a finger to help me—”
“Hold on, hold on.” Eyeing him as though he might be some kind of shape-shifter, she said, “Let’s see, let’s just see about you.”
Ada Mae held still for a time weighing her next ploy. Then, hanging up more clear plastic bags of dollar tealight candles, she said, “Luminescence.” Poking her finger at the ones labeled cedar, fresh rain and sandalwood, she underscored the product’s name. “Come on, come on--Luminessence. What does that tell you?”
Grabbing at anything, Josh said, “I don’t know . . . glow, glowing . . . in the dark. You need it to shed some light.”
“Not it exactly, but what?”
“You.”
“No no, guess again.”
Befuddled for a second and then catching on, he blurted out, “A guiding light.”
“Go on, go on.”
Recalling something she’d just said, he came out with, “A guardian angel.”
“Right. You said it.” She scurried down the stepladder and seemed finally about to confide in him when the portly lady scooted back toward them, snatched up packets of assorted plastic spoons and utensils, flexible straws, nylon kitchen tools, oven mitts, pot holders and hand towels, clutched them all with both hands and made a beeline for the checkout counter by the front window.
Sick of the games, confronting Ada Mae head on, Josh said, “Look, can we get off this now? From what I’ve gathered, Alice hooked up with someone she knew in an old flatbed truck. Talk to me, will you? Then what?”
“Wrong. She didn’t know him at all.”
“She didn’t?”
“‘Course not. He’s from over in Sardis Lake, does odd jobs, seasonal work. So strapped for cash he come over and pestered me anyways. No-account and drunk that early in the morning and sassed me back.”
“And what happened?”
“Alice must’ve overheard and liked the way he sassed me. Then must’ve taken up with that trash who, don’t you know, goes back to them crazy Ole Miss days. Was trash way back then and damn well stayed that way.”
“Civil Rights days, you mean?”
“What else? She took up with him ‘stead of going to school like she ought and minded me as her only salvation.”
“Took up with who?”
“Who do you think? I tell you, what the drunken, putrid likes of Bubba had to offer is beyond me. Didn’t know she was that far gone. Should’ve hired somebody to keep an eye out on her day and night.”
“Bubba. You’re saying his name is Bubba.”
“Twisted mischief, I call it. And Alice went right along.”
“But why? He was a stranger, you said. And destitute.”
“Don’t make no never mind. Should’ve seen it coming. She was ripe and ready and easy pickings for any of Satan’s minions like Bubba, Darryl, Rowdy—you name it. All part of Satan’s secret plans.”
“Or whoever,” Josh said, moving off
, “Okay, thanks. It’s a start, it’s a beginning.”
Ada Mae almost knocked over the vinyl baskets of seashell-dish candles as she traipsed after him. “Hold it. You never told me what happened since she took up with him. You never told me nothing.”
The lone cashier glanced up from thumbing through the gossip magazines on the rack, crammed them back and pretended to be busy. Josh moved past her to the automatic storefront doors with Ada Mae close on his heels. With Ada Mae cutting in front and blocking his way the only thing he could think of saying was, “That’s just the problem. There’s this big gap since she took up with him, and Alice can’t seem to remember.”
“Aha. You see? That’s the ticket. That’s the way Satan works. Going after shiftless souls, cloggin’ their brains so’s they don’t even know the bargain they made.”
When Josh failed to reply, Ada Mae said, “But don’t you despair, you hear? Look to your angel. Far as I can tell, you might do as a handyman.”
Josh shrugged as he brushed by her. “Right.”
“Now don’t you go shrugging me off. Look for signs. Vigilance, night and day, that’s what this battle takes. That’s where I slacked off, heaven help me. So you get back to me. I want to know we’re catching up. I want to know how it’s going.”
Josh threw up his hands to finally end it. Somewhat satisfied, Ada Mae nodded, swiveled around and told the cashier she was thinking of making the Luminessence display more prominent, moving it to the front of the store under Christmas Essentials. Josh didn’t wait to hear the cashier’s response.
Once outside, Josh shielded his eyes from the pulsing rays of sunlight fighting to bleed through the cloud cover. In the state he was in, the rays might very well be a glimmer from one of Ada Mae’s displays set up to echo her crusade.
But the glimmer was short-lived. It faded almost as soon as he caught sight of a lanky figure across the street leaning against a vintage black coupe. In the shadows of a towering oak, the figure turned his back, stepped on the running board, slipped behind the wheel and drove away.