Lou smiled knowingly, “What the heck … I was your age, once.” She looked at Chad. “Come on, dufus, you can show me where you were last night.”
“Right on, Sheriff!”
Lou turned towards the woods on the other side of the road and called out, “See you later, MB.” She waved to the quivering bush.
From his hiding place deep in the undergrowth, MB the eternal voyeur, watched Chad hurry round the sheriff’s patrol car and get into the passenger side. He dropped his directional microphone when Lou called out and waved to him.
“Shit!” MB prided himself on being invisible for Old Indian Legend tells us that man who is invisible cannot be seen.
He watched the sheriff drive off for Little Beaver. Girlish giggling drew his attention back to the two teenage girls. Now what were those guys up to? Beau taken by Bigfoot! That’s impossible. Most likely Duane put them up to it. Yeah, that’s gotta be it.
Hold on though, Duane wouldn’t be that dumb. So what if Bigfoot had taken Beau? Nah, there were no such creatures as Bigfoot, he thought, even though as a crypto-zoologist it was his sworn duty to believe in such things.
He watched the sheriff’s patrol car disappear round a bend in the road. A moment later the VW camper started up and sputtered off towards town.
MB’s thoughts returned to Bigfoot. Suppose, just suppose, Bigfoot had taken Beau? That would be freakin’ amazing. At that very moment, he felt an overwhelming excitement at the prospect of Beau being kidnapped by Bigfoot. A new sense of purpose overwhelmed him, but it was only fleeting. He quickly told himself to get a grip on reality — there were no such creatures as Bigfoot. With a woeful sigh, MB removed his headphones and started to pack all his covert listening gear into a camouflaged rucksack.
Back at the diner, Duane sat open-mouthed, food dropping onto his plate. Holy crapazoids, what the heck was going on? Had Beau been kidnapped by Bigfoot or was he fooling around?
Chapter 7
Breakfast at Annie’s
AT THE SAME time Sheriff Lou was en-route to Little Beaver Picnic Area, Duane Dexter was still eating his breakfast at Annie’s Diner. Well, not exactly. His face was a complete blank and at his feet were his knife and fork.
In fact he was so weird-looking another Beaverite strolled up to him and waved a hand in front of his face. “You in there, Duane?”
The connection to Lou was terminated for the moment. Duane scratched at his scruffy face fuzz as if he had fleas. His hand absent-mindedly tweaked his ear covered by straggly, shoulder length hair. He saw other diners giving him disgusted looks, others gave concerned looks while most giggled. He shrugged off the mixed attention he was getting and picked up his knife and fork.
By no means unattractive, but due to his shaggy-dog appearance — scuffed jeans and faded t-shirt, and being in need of a good shave, Duane’s Nordic good looks were there for all to see if they looked close enough. Not that Duane gave two flying fartolas what anyone thought about his appearance.
Duane looked around Annie’s rustic — and proud of it — diner and smiled at the chintzy curtains, the chintzy tablecloths, the chintzy napkins, all clashing hideously with the bare, rough-hewn wooden walls, adorned with photos of — you guessed it — Bigfoot. He looked up and could still hear that red-tailed hawk squealing above as if still attached to Lou’s mind.
He stared at one blow up on the wall and thought long and hard, scratching his ear with his thinking finger. Where was he that day? Nothing came to him. What the heck! It’ll come to him when he least expected it, which was basically how he went through life so far — never knowing what was around the next corner. He smirked as one of MB’s Old Indian Legends came to mind — “Man who always knows what’s around the next corner is one dull dude”.
Duane was in the middle of eating a cooked breakfast of thick-sliced ham, three eggs over easy, beans, hash browns and blueberry buckwheat pancakes, accompanied with a large prune juice and a larger mug of strong black coffee — a breakfast of champions. He tried to remember that strange dream he had last night. Oh yeah — weird how these weightless dreams of floating around the forest remain just out of reach.
Then it hit him full on causing him to fall off his chair to a chorus of sniggers. He sat down and mulled over his dream. That was it. It was about Lou and the love of her life, and about getting them back together. Duane recollected something about sending Lou’s love interest a letter but what he’d actually said he couldn’t remember because his memories and thoughts were muddled ever since using his sixth sense.
Someone shouted out, “Hey, Duane, why don’t you scrub my furry ass clean?”
Several customers laughed out loud.
Most, if not all Beaverites regarded Duane as the prime suspect in the much-discussed, topic number one serial bather case. The case in question — though not injurious to individuals, had forced the sheriff’s department to investigate this most mischievous of crimes when they could have been spending time and effort dealing with genuine crimes in town, of which there were none.
He drew himself out of his contemplations regarding the contents of the letter and settled his roving eye on Annie Bumgardner. She happened to be born on the same day as Duane, but several years earlier, and was the excessively buxom, blonde co-owner of Annie’s Diner with her twin sister Heidi. Women just a tad older than him held a special appeal and the sisters were real hotties whose companionship he couldn’t get enough off these days.
Annie stood behind the counter of her establishment serving breakfast to her customers with a cheerful smile. She was very attractive — had even done a swimwear photo shoot for Sports Illustrated. Annie had gained a few pounds since then, but wore it well. Duane sighed as he loved his women to have curves — and that described Annie perfectly.
He sighed thinking how his life had changed regarding the opposite sex. Up until a year ago, he’d had a hard time attracting the opposite sex, no doubt due to his Bigfoot duds stink and shaggy dog manner. But ever since the life-changing event, his luck with women multiplied exponentially. Women couldn’t resist fussing over him and wanting to give him a thorough scrub down which led to you-know-what.
He snapped out of his daydream to see Sheriff Lou’s four deputies, including Deputy Heidi, Annie’s identical twin sister, seated at the counter. They were eating their overly large breakfasts, mainly consisting of Dwight’s birthday cake, the remains of which were scattered over the counter top.
Duane scanned the place. There was barely a seat to spare at the tables or at the counter of the diner. Annie’s wasn’t the only diner in town, but what made her place so popular with the locals and tourists alike was the best and cheapest food in town. Her “all-you-can-eat breakfast days” were a spectacular success and particular favorite of all that ate at her establishment.
Locals and tourists loved breakfast time at Annie’s. And she loved them back, usually with a big hug — the lucky ones receiving a face-full of her boobs. Duane was one of the lucky ones.
Duane had to admit Annie was a giving, nurturing woman, whose one aim in life was to get hitched to a rich guy. He was her number one choice for supplying the necessary cash when his inheritance kicked in at twenty-one. Unfortunately for Annie, he was also her sister’s first choice for said nuptials.
Duane was well aware what the sisters — known affectionately as the Boom-Boom Sisters, wanted from him, but so far, he was playing hard to get, and knew he wouldn’t be ready to settle down, even at the age of twenty-one. He was quite happy to keep things just the way they were with both sisters.
Duane smiled as Annie flipped over the counter top flap and sauntered over to his table with a steaming pot of coffee. He chuckled at Dwight’s distraught face — the counter flap had squished the remains of his cake as flat as a pancake. He almost choked as Dwight lifted the flap and scooped off the cake stuck to it and stuffed it down his throat.
Duane slowly munched on the last slice of pancake, noisily savoring it. “Yummy,” he exclaimed
, rolling his eyes.
He re-focused his eyes, noticing the sarcastic smirks on Skeet and Chuck — two grizzled slackers in their mid-thirties — seated in a corner. It had to be Chuck who made that bather comment, Duane thought. He ignored the asswipe hunters, not because he didn’t like them, but simply because they were hunters.
With a cheeky smile on her face, Annie topped up his coffee and asked, “You want some more to eat?”
“I’ve had enough, Annie.”
“Aw, don’t be like that … you must still be hungry my Bigfoot boy.”
“Uh-huh … no can do, I’m full up,” he said with his trademark boyish smile.
Annie sat down on the vinyl seat next to Duane. She nestled up close and put her hand on his knee and gave a squeeze, wrinkling her nose at his pungent body odor. “I thought we had date last night my big, bad Bigfoot boy?”
Duane scratched his ear and thought for a moment. Yeah, Annie was right — he’d told her to expect him for a booty call. Oops it had slipped his mind. How could he have been so thoughtless as to neglect her? He smiled apologetically. “Sorry. You know how forgetful I am.”
Annie pursed her lips and pouted. Her hand rummaged Duane’s goods. “I forgive you, silly.”
Duane realized if he’d had his thinking cap on last night after Phantom Bigfoot had paid the Doodles a visit he could have spent the rest of the night with Annie instead of going back home to his place.
He looked down at his groin being massaged by Annie’s hand. “Maybe I could call round tonight?”
Annie gave an exaggerated sigh, “Don’t fret, hon you call round when it’s convenient for you.” She glanced over at the serving counter to see Heidi turn and smirk at her then looked back at Duane. “Heidi’s got the evening off. I’ll have to share you and I really like having you all to myself. If Heidi gets to you first she’ll drain you and there won’t be much left for me. She knows it’s my turn to get first dibs on you but she’ll fool you into making out she’s me.”
Duane shrugged an apology for he was so easily duped by one of the sisters pretending to be the other one. It was impossible to know which one was which because they truly were identical twins. But he didn’t mind being duped, for it only added to the sexual experience.
As for which sister he preferred he would have to admit, though only to himself, he preferred Annie. She was more easy-going pretty much like himself. Heidi liked to boss him around, probably because she was in law enforcement.
Annie gave his groin a light squeeze then stood up. “I know you’ll make it up to me, hon. My bed is always waiting for you. And my heart just yearns for you, Duane, my wondrous Bigfoot boy.”
Duane smiled affectionately, despite knowing that Annie’s bed wasn’t just waiting for him, nor did her heart just yearn for him. But eligible local men were in short supply. And Annie liked to play the field, as did her sister, so he knew with the tourist season in full swing, his time would be allotted.
“What would I do without you, Annie?” He smiled that amiable smile of his.
“You’d do alright … you always do.” Annie’s face went serious, “You know, last night I dreamt Virgil came back to town just for me.” She looked a little sad. “I would’ve done anything for that guy, but he never cared for me. I’m glad he left the way he did … for it sure knocked him right outa my heart.” She sighed. “You two were real tight, once.”
“We were blood brothers,” Duane said. He thought about The Verge — the town’s all-American hero, who had every girl’s heart fluttering after him. The guy who taught him how to fish and saved him from bullies, of which there were many eager to use Duane’s face and thick head of hair as a mop on the school toilet floor. Virgil was five years older, and should’ve ignored Duane — but to Duane’s everlasting amazement he treated him like a younger brother. Thinking of Virgil brought a sad smile to his face.
Annie leaned forward to kiss his brow, but reared back and almost choked on his body stink. “Something I been meaning to say and I don’t want to hurt your feelings, hon … but you sure as hell stink real bad.”
Duane sniffed his armpits, “I don’t think I smell that bad?”
“Believe me, hon … you’re ripe!”
Loud belches diverted Duane. He glanced over to the counter where the deputies were finishing off their excessively large breakfasts, which in all probability would render them useless for the rest of the day. Good job nothing ever happened in Big Beaver. He looked back to Annie and winked.
She blew him a kiss as she sauntered off.
Duane grinned and caught the kiss. He gave the bird to Skeet and Chuck as they puckered their lips making sucking noises.
“At least I’m getting some, dick wads.” Duane was satisfied by the angry jolts from both asswipes.
He kept an eager eye on Annie’s curvaceous hips and shapely ass as she sauntered from table to table, topping up empty coffee mugs. He sighed with contentment and thought life was pretty damned good. He had a nice comfortable home and a very healthy bank balance.
In fact, he was the most loaded guy in Big Beaver, having inherited a small fortune from a distant relative, proving that fairytale dreams do happen. Of course, it was all placed in a trust fund, but the strangest thing was he really didn’t care. The most important things in Duane’s life were his good friends and an ample supply of booty call. What more in life was there? Oh, and being The Guardian.
Duane gave another contented sigh as he took a sip of coffee. He closed his eyes for a moment then opened them slowly. Relaxed, he had a nice warm feeling in his tummy and not just because he’d eaten his fill. His only concern at that moment was he had something important to do in town, and for the life of him, he couldn’t remember what it was. His memory had been sorely screwed ever since becoming The Guardian.
Duane’s ever-wandering attention was drawn away from Annie when Noreen came into the diner in a rush of wild hair. He watched her make a beeline for the deputies.
Noreen stopped by twin deputies Dick and Rick Gruber — The Teutonic Twots.
They were both chubby with rosy faces. Both were a few years older than Duane. That’s where the similarities ended. Dick was a good six inches taller with short curly blond hair. Rick was six inches shorter with a blond buzz cut. When they were born, their parents named them both Richard. Don’t ask. They were also as mean as rattlesnakes back in school.
Duane was mildly curious what Noreen said to the two deputies. Perhaps it had something to do with him. Shame he couldn’t reach her mind as she wasn’t one of the chosen. Perhaps Lou wanted them to arrest him. Huh! Never gonna happen! And so what if the DNA results had come back from Sacramento. He made absolutely sure he had thoroughly contaminated the evidence as told to him by Dexter Morgan in Dexter.
“Why me?” Deputy Dick pleaded, in a high-pitched, feminine voice. Sniggers!
Everyone in the diner turned to look at the deputy who whirled around to see who had sniggered. More sniggers drifted from Chuck and Skeet after that dumb move.
Deputy Dick went rigid with rage. More sniggers followed that dumb move.
Duane listened in. He guessed that Lou wanted Deputy Dick to do something — something that didn’t involve eating.
Noreen was adamant, “Get your lazy butt off that chair and go clean up the welcome sign.”
Aw … how could Lou be so mean on Dwight’s birthday? It crossed Duane’s mind that he should go over to Deputy Dwight to wish him a happy birthday. He thought about it some more, casually scratching an earlobe, and decided he’d sip his coffee instead and just sit quietly at his table until he was ready to make a move to do that all-important thing.
Ah, home sweet home, Duane mused. Still thinking with his finger, he thought of his log cabin in the woods, where life was perfectly peaceful, where he could enjoy the serenity of nature and his own easy-going company. It was a place where he was free to do his special thing, now that his father had left. There was just one thing wrong with that scenario �
� his best friend Virgil wasn’t a part of his life anymore. Five years it had been. He really needed to see him for there was something important they had to discuss, something so important he couldn’t think what the hell it was. That was when the images invaded his lame brain. There was nothing else for it, but to just let it happen.
Chapter 8
Agents Tuckerwood & Merlot
STILL AT ANNIE’S, Duane let the thoughts and images explode in his mind’s eye. He had no choice really as The Elders had designed him this way. But these images were faded as if from a long distance, crackly line. He saw clenched fists strangling a pillow. There was no doubt those hands belonged to Virgil Tuckerwood for he was deluged with a flood of guilt and remorse from The Verge’s screwed up head.
He heaved a sigh at distracting memories of The Verge showing him how to unravel the heavy weighted fly line and use the fluid motion of his body and rod as an extension of his arm to cast the fly. Heavy static disintegrated those sweet images to remind Duane of the purpose at hand.
Through Virgil’s eyes and mind Duane caught a glimpse of a ravishingly dark beauty seated at the far end of a red leather sofa in the outer office of the Sacramento Bureau shrink, Doctor Raul Martinez.
Virgil was in deep shit with the FBI. That much Duane easily picked up and could see in the young woman’s face.
Duane felt a little queasy with all the conflicting emotions running rampant in Virgil’s head, but after a sip of coffee he settled down for the show. But something strange dawned on him, he was able to tune into Agent Merlot’s thoughts, though they were even more scrambled and conflicting than Virgil’s. This was the first time Duane had been able to tune in to someone he had not met before or more accurately bonded with. He surmised the reason for this was because she and Virgil were close and in tune with each other’s thought processes and it was through Virgil that he was picking up the female agent’s thoughts. Duane was quick to sense that both agents sometimes didn’t get along with one another, like now, and could get a tad snippy with the other.
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