Chasing Harpo

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Chasing Harpo Page 17

by Alan Black


  Before the good-music ended, Carl slowed the hairless-not-people-go-fast-cage. Harpo recognized the look on Carl’s face and his change in posture. The hairless-not-people was hunting.

  Harpo was amazed at how people-like the hairless-not-people were at times. They often did many things like people. The hairless-not-people’s use of tools proved they were smart. They used too many tools, but only the smart used any tools at all. It was true that hairless-not-people had a language, but they spoke too much not-speak to be truely smart.

  Carl’s posture was almost a mirror image of a people’s hunting posture. Harpo hoped Carl was hunting for food.

  Carl slowed even more and made the hairless-not-people-go-fast-cage move away from the other such cages. They moved slowly behind a hairless-not-people-cage.

  A hairless-not-people stood alone. It stepped into their way and blocked their path. It waved at Harpo and Carl. Harpo waved back as Carl made the hairless-not-people-go-fast-cage stop moving. More good-music came out of the air. Harpo did not see the other hairless-not-people carrying any food. So, when Carl got out to challenge the hairless-not-people, Harpo sat and listened to the good-music.

  Harpo had no doubt that he could win a fight against this challenging hairless-not-people, but it was not his place to fight for his servant. It only made sense that Carl had to fight to hunt for food in this hairless-not-people place.

  *

  JACK sipped at the lemonade in his hand. At first, he wondered if the lemonade was spiked, but he could not taste any alcohol. The lemon was unmistakable, but the sweetener was leaving him baffled, and it had an unusual, but pleasant after taste. He was well into his third glass and he still had not figured out what Mrs. Marks put in her lemonade. He had wanted to ask, but every time he opened his mouth, he got into trouble with the woman.

  Steve and the Marks’ boy called Spud were off to the side, sitting in the grass. Steve was still working on making friends with Natalia’s new yellow dog while Spud listened intently to Steve’s marine stories.

  Jack looked over at Natalia. She and Mrs. Marks were leaning over the hood of his car making scribbles on the map. The lemonade almost slipped from his hand, but he caught it at the last moment.

  Rooster laughed and punched him lightly in the arm. “You better be staring at Natalia and not my Daisy May.”

  “Of course not, I-” Jack said.

  “Whoa up there, Lieutenant Keegan,” Rooster interrupted. “You mean my Daisy May isn’t worth staring at?”

  “No. Of course not. I just meant that I wasn’t interested in…I mean I was more interested-”

  Rooster interrupted again, “You know what my old Daddy said when you find yourself in a hole?”

  “Quit digging,” Jack said. Strangely enough, it was not the first time he had heard that advice today.

  “Yep,” Rooster said. “And the holes get real deep real fast when you start trying to compare your girlfriend with another man’s wife.”

  “Natalia isn’t my girlfriend,” Jack said. “We just met today.”

  Rooster said, “You can dispute that all you want, but you already lost that argument long before you showed up at Casa di Marks.”

  “Yes, but-”

  “No ifs, ands, or buts, Lieutenant. Daisy May didn’t give me any choice when we met and I don’t see that you got much choice in the matter either. Natalia is a smart and beautiful woman, so just sit back and enjoy the ride.”

  Daisy May turned and looked back at the two men. “Marks, if I had given you the choice we would still be waiting for you to ask me out. I don’t see Natalia has much choice except to throw her loop at a man as soon as she cut him out of the herd. Good men are hard to come by. Since neither Natalia nor I could find a good man, we had better grab whatever scrub came by before we lost that, too.”

  Rooster said, “Woman, you just keep pushing me. You ain’t too big to put over my knee and give you a good spanking.”

  Daisy May raised one eyebrow. “Promises. That is all I get. Promises.”

  Natalia said, “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about me. I just see what I like. My boss is always telling me if I want something, I have to be more assertive and go for it. It’s not like I am a tramp or anything.” She giggled. “I do have a tramp stamp, though.”

  She turned around and lifted her shirt away from her waist. A tattoo of barbed wire and twisted ribbon adorned her lower back.

  Rooster whistled and said, “Good looking ink. Look Daisy May, ass antlers.”

  Daisy May said, “Nice booty mark.”

  Natalia said, “I always thought of it more like a fanny frame.”

  Daisy May leaned down to look at the tattoo. “A couple of those barbwires twist up under the shirt. Is there something more serious up there?”

  Natalia said, “The barbwire turns into thorn bushes with red roses on my left shoulder. But that is art for a later time.” She looked at Jack and winked.

  Before Jack or Rooster could respond the two women turned back to the map listening to another radio call.

  Jack said, “Mr. Marks, may I ask you two questions?”

  Rooster said, “I guess you had better call me Rooster, Lieutenant. But, I won’t answer any questions about Cousin Red.”

  Jack said, “Rooster, I already figured I wasn’t going to learn anything new here. And I figure you think the longer we stay here,” he raised his glass of lemonade as a point of emphasis, “the less time we have to look for Dr. Marks. I recognize a stall tactic when I see one.”

  Rooster looked up as Daisy May looked back at them. He shrugged and asked, “Then, why are you still hanging around here instead of looking for Cousin Red?”

  Natalia turned to look at Jack as well. “I was curious about that myself, LT.”

  Jack said, “Well, since we don’t know which way Dr. Marks is travelling, we only have one point of the compass that would be a correct direction to travel. The other 359 degrees of travel will just put us farther away from the fugitives.”

  Daisy May said, “Alleged-”

  “No,” Jack interrupted. “I am sure you will agree that they are fugitives. It may turn out that they are not guilty of anything, but they are on the run.”

  Daisy May said, “Yep. I guess you’re right there.”

  Rooster said, “So what are your questions?”

  Jack said, “First, what is in this lemonade, Mrs. Marks? This is the best I have ever had.”

  Daisy May said, “The flattery is appreciated, sir. I just mix fresh squeezed lemon, with a bit of lemon peel added and I use raw beet sugar. Rooster keeps me a small patch of sugar beets in the garden. I don’t use any processed foods; well, none that we haven’t processed ourselves.”

  Jack said, “That’s it? I don’t have a gourmet pallet, but there is something else in here. I know it.”

  Daisy May said, “The water on this place is good well water filtered through a natural limestone substratum. There aren’t any chemicals from city tap water. And…and…okay. You keep this quiet and don’t tell my kids. Ever…promise?” At Jack and Natalia’s nods she lowered her voice and said. “Broccoli. The special ingredient is broccoli. It is good for the kids, but I can’t get them to eat it, so I grind it up real fine in the blender and mix it in. The lemon and the sugar kind of hide the flavor. You know, it’s like that canned pasta commercial: a full serving of vegetables in each glass.”

  Jack laughed. Then Rooster laughed, starting off Natalia laughing. Daisy May looked sheepish.

  “I mean it, don’t tell my kids,” Daisy May said. “If they find out about this, they will start looking for the brussel sprouts I hide in the apple pie, the turnips I mix into the chili and the cauliflower in the mashed taters.”

  Jack wiped the tears from his eyes. “I promise on one condition. You give me the recipe for how to mix this up. I love it. This is my third glass, which brings up my next question; may I use your outhouse?” He pointed off to the side of the house, down the short path. “My
back teeth are about to float away.”

  Rooster said, “That thing? Best not use it. That old thing might fall down around your…well, ears. We do have indoor plumbing here. I gotta go myself.”

  Natalia looked sheepish, “Me too.”

  Daisy May said, “Well, let’s just make it a full expedition, shall we?”

  Natalia called out. “Steve, can you listen to the radio for me? All we are getting is false sightings, but I want to keep track of all of the information we gather.”

  Spud said, “I will hang here with Steve. You all go ahead.”

  Jack drained his glass of lemonade and stood up. He stretched and glanced at the map. Natalia had covered it with symbols marking every radio call on Dr. Marks and Harpo.

  He followed the Marks and Natalia to the house. Rooster made a side trip, grabbing the screen door laying in the yard, he dragged it up on the porch.

  “Look at that!” Rooster exclaimed. “Ripped four inch wood screws right out of the door jam.” He rubbed a finger across the door jam. “I am going to have to replace that too. Shattered the wood all the way back to the studs. He held a screw up for Jack’s inspection. “See, this one is even bent. Dang it. I may have to set the next one with six inch lag bolts instead of screws.”

  Jack looked at the door, “What ripped this off? It looks like it would take a hurricane to pull it loose.”

  Rooster nodded, “Hurricane was what it was. A hurricane stirred up by two teenage boys. I told them not to wrestle in the house, but you know kids. We was lucky this was all they tore up. Ya’ll come on in now.”

  Jack stepped into the Marks’ home and was shocked speechless. The home was immaculate. Hard wood floors and granite tile off set huge hand rubbed ceiling beams. The wall behind a leather couch held a hand-stitched quilt that would have brought more money at an auction than he paid for his car. A pair of three-foot electronic picture frames bracketed the quilt.

  The frame on the right slipped from Picasso’s ‘Starry Night’ to another classic painting that Jack had seen, but could not name.

  Three young children watched a sixty-inch flat screen mounted on the opposite wall. The older of the two young girls looked up as the picture cycled. “‘Waterlillies’ by Manet.”

  “It is by Monet, Opal,” the younger girl said. “Sheesh, you get that wrong every time.” She stood up and extended a hand to Jack. “Welcome to our home, sir.”

  Jack took her hand and shook it gently. “I am Jack Keegan.”

  “I am Pearl. That is my sister Opal and the youngest one is Darren. We saw your girlfriend come through with Ma. If I may say so, she is very pretty.”

  Jack started to protest, but the other electronic picture frame fuzzed out and a new painting came into place.

  Opal shouted, “Your turn, but you won’t get this one. Ma mixed in some new ones and you don’t have them memorized yet.”

  Pearl stuck her tongue out. “I do so know. It is ‘Night Watch’ by Rembrandt. You should have spent more time studying her view-list.”

  Jack looked across the room, through a well-appointed formal dining room into a spacious kitchen. The Marks’ home somehow was bigger on the inside than on the outside.

  He looked at Rooster, “I owe you an apology, sir. When I drove up I automatically assumed redneck trash. I am sorry. I was wrong.”

  Rooster said, “Not to worry, if Daisy May and I hadn’t taken to you and Natalia, you would have left with that impression. But, you aren’t wrong about the redneck part.”

  “Redneck,” the young boy shouted. He tore himself away from whatever cartoon he had been watching. He raced across the room and launched himself into Rooster’s arms. “We are rednecks.”

  Rooster chucked, “That’s right, Little Man. Us Marks been rednecks for centuries. Here let me show you something.” Rooster steered Jack into the dining room. “I guess you are not much off on the trash part. What do you think about my table?”

  Jack slid a hand over the table. The huge table could easily seat twelve adults. He was not an exotic wood expert, but he could see patterns of various woods fit seamlessly together and polished to a high gloss. “This is absolutely beautiful, Rooster.”

  Darren shouted, “Trash. Trash. Trash.”

  Rooster hugged the boy and said. “Trash is right.” He slid a finger along one wood pattern. “This is oak. This is redwood. This is cherry. There is a little maple wood down at that end. I even have some teak here in the middle. I scrounged up most of this wood down at the boat junkyard Daisy May’s father works at.”

  Darren shouted, “Grandpa. Grandpa. Grandpa.”

  Jack was impressed, “You built this out of junked wood? It is not just a table, but a work of art.” He looked around. “I wonder if Natalia is done with the facilities. I really need to go.”

  Rooster said, “Crap! Sorry Jack. I forgot. We have almost five teenagers in this house. We couldn’t get by with one bathroom with half this crowd. Let me show you.”

  Jack nodded at a teenage boy as they passed through the kitchen. The boy had his head buried in a book, but looked up and nodded back at Jack. When he glanced at the boy’s book, Jack was startled to see it was a math book. He was not sure he could work through it.

  Jack felt much better as he washed his hands. He chuckled as he heard Daisy May berate Rooster for not putting on a shirt when they had company in the house. Darren was shouting “Shirt. Shirt. Shirt.” He could hear Opal and Pearl shouting over the noise about some new painting.

  He stepped back into the kitchen as the boy slammed the math book shut. He shouted at his sisters. “Done. And I got it right. So, no doing dishes for me tonight. You two have to fight it out.”

  Opal shouted back. “Pearl will be doing dishes. I am ahead.”

  Pearl did not shout, as befitted a young teenage girl. But, she spoke loud enough for all to hear, “It is only nineteen to twenty. I have plenty of time to catch up.”

  Rooster startled Jack when he spoke right behind him. “Today is art appreciation day for the girls. Danged if I can tell one of those scribbles from the other.” He reached around Jack to flip open the boy’s math book. He ran a finger down the problems on the page. He tapped a series of numbers on the boy’s scratch paper. “Nope, Spitter. You rushed it here. Do it again.”

  Rooster called to the girls, “Pearl and Opal, Spitter is still in the running for a night of chores. It is still anybody’s ball game.”

  Jack followed Rooster into the living room. Natalia was standing there with Daisy May. Rooster stepped up behind his wife and hugged her from behind.

  Pearl said, “‘The Succulent Wife’ by Jackson Pollock. Tie score.”

  Darren shouted, “Harpo. Wanna see Harpo!”

  Jack looked at Rooster. He said, “So, Dr. Marks and the ape were here?”

  Rooster said, “We have seen news reports all day long. Give it enough time and Darren will be calling out to see Sponge Bob, but that doesn’t mean he was here.”

  Daisy May grabbed Darren by the ears and wiggled his head back and forth tenderly. She kissed him on the forehead. “My lovely boy will get just as excited when he sees a pancake commercial.”

  Darren shouted, “Pancakes. I want some Jacks Pollicky pancakes.” He pointed at the electronic painting on the wall.

  Jack looked at the abstract painting. He had heard of Jackson Pollock, but he was not familiar with the man’s art. He looked at the painting and could not see anything succulent or wife-ish about it. It looked more like Natalia’s marks on the map.

  Jack froze. The whole house was abuzz with a swirl of Marks proportions, but he did not hear any of it. He did not hear Natalia laugh as she pulled Darren away from his father to hug him close. He did not hear Daisy May laugh as Rooster grabbed her again and kissed her on the back of her neck.

  He knew Harpo and Dr. Marks’ destination.

  He spun about. “Natalia, we have to go now.” He bolted through the open door and sprinted to his police cruiser. He squeezed between S
teve and Spud and stared at the map. He knew he was right.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Marks, thank you for the hospitality,” Jack shouted toward the house at the cluster of people gathering on the porch. “I apologize for the abrupt departure, but we have to go.”

  He grabbed the map and all of the colored markers, shoving them into the front seat. Steve shook hands with Spud and climbed into the back seat. Jack was in the driver’s seat with the engine on, tapping the steering wheel with impatience before Natalia could get from the porch to the car.

  “Where is the dog?” he asked Steve.

  “Clear,” Steve said looking about.

  Jack dropped the gear select into reverse and sped backwards down the driveway before Natalia settled in. She barely had her seatbelt on before he slammed the car into drive and accelerated forward.

  Natalia looked back at Steve. He shrugged in return.

  She glanced at Jack. “I have seen some unusual reactions to a Jackson Pollock painting, but nothing quite that extreme.”

  Jack tapped the map in her lap. “I know where Dr. Marks has taken Harpo. We have to go now. When I last called Porrizzo he said the capture and euthanasia order was still in place. But, if we don’t capture that pair soon, we may never find them. Or find them too late.”

  Natalia stared at Jack. “You are this anxious to get promoted?”

  Jack said, “Somebody will get promoted. Why not me?”

  Natalia shook her head, “Well, Mr. Lieutenant Jack Keegan, are you going to give them a chance or are you just going in shooting? Will you even give Steve a chance to use the tranquilizer gun or do you want to just Bonnie and Clyde them?”

  Jack gritted his teeth as the cruiser slid on the dirt road going around a corner. He had a general idea of which roads to take, but he would have to wait until he hit better roads before he typed in the GPS coordinates or even before calling for back up to meet him there.

  “How this plays out will be up to Dr. Marks and the ape,” he answered Natalia. “If they come quietly and peacefully that is fine with me, if not, well, I will cross that bridge when I get there.”

 

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