by Warren Esby
The following Monday, I told the head of the Cancer Institute that I would be going up to North Carolina to establish some collaborations at Duke and the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill that would help my work. He was very supportive as long as I charged all my expenses to my grant, which of course I would, and his institute and MUSC would get their cut. Anya and I were tired of living in a city with a lot of tourists around and decided to look for some place near one of the universities in North Carolina that was a small town out away from the main areas. We searched the Internet and found a small town called Pittsboro that looked promising and that was only a short distance from Chapel Hill. Anya contacted a real estate agent and managed to find a small house that we could rent month to month.
Now it’s funny about the name Pittsboro. Just like a lot of names of places in the South that end in ‘-boro,’ it is really just another way of saying borough which is also another way of saying burgh. They all essentially mean the same. Now we lived in Charleston between neighbors who were from New York and Ohio. And what city is between New York and Ohio? Pittsburgh, of course. Pittsburgh is in Pennsylvania, which is right between the states of New York and Ohio if you don’t count New Jersey which most people do, don’t count New Jersey, that is. I couldn’t really say that most people don’t because that would be like saying most people don’t don’t count New Jersey which is a double negative and means that people do count New Jersey, which is not correct as far as the point I was making about most people not counting New Jersey when considering important places between New York and Ohio.
I mean if it wasn’t for Newark airport, which is really a New York airport, and Atlantic City, which is really a New York playground, no one would think of New Jersey at all except as being a series of rest stops between New York and Pennsylvania. And to be absolutely accurate, if you go north out of New York City and then west, you never have to go through New Jersey and consider it at all. Western New York State is quite close to eastern Ohio and there is only a short stretch of Pennsylvania in between, so that it is quite accurate to say that Pittsburgh is between New York and Ohio. Does that mean that we expected to find a lot of people from New York and Ohio in Pittsboro like we had in Charleston? The answer was no, we didn’t expect to. But we did. Just like Charleston, many people from New York and Ohio, and Pennsylvania too, had moved to Pittsboro to be near the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill where they now had jobs.
We packed up the black Ford Expedition and headed out of Charleston. We headed up I-26 and over to I-95 north which would take us to North Carolina. I glanced over at Anya who was relaxed and enjoying the scenery. She had music on, but she was playing it softly so as not to disturb me as I considered what we had to do next. She usually leaves the planning to me and is satisfied, as long as I don’t leave her out of any of the plans.
One thing I like about Anya is she’s free of body art. She doesn’t have one of those tattooed anklets or a little heart tattoo strategically placed here, there or under there, or a tramp stamp at the base of her spine. She also doesn’t have any body piercings like a belly button ring or a lip ring or a nose stud or a safety pin through her eyebrow or a tongue stud or seventeen pierced earrings in her ear. She is pretty much pristine, except for pierced ears, one piercing in each ear lobe which I know is so old fashioned, but I love her that way.
I, on the other hand, have a big green alligator tail tattooed down my left arm and a heart on my right arm that says Swamp Fox, and I like raccoons so I had a little raccoon mask tattooed on my face around my eyes and a tattoo of a raccoon’s nose tattooed on the tip of my nose. Only kidding! Only kidding, of course! I don’t have any artsy body art either. No tats. No ink. Nothing. Nada. Just ordinary looking skin, and no piercings. But I did read where a guy had his entire body tattooed in green scales to make him look like a snake, with tattoos around this eyes to make him look like he had snake’s eyes, and he even slit the end of his tongue to make it look like a snake’s tongue. He forgot one important thing, however. He forgot to find out whether he could slither along the ground like a snake and no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t master it, so it was all wasted. The last I heard, he was changing some of the tattoos to make him look like a frog because he could jump.
As we rode along, I started to think about the three names Gopang had given us before his digestion, actually before Mo’s digestion to be more accurate. I kept repeating the names over and over again because they meant something I couldn’t quite get my thoughts around. The three names were Clark Kentson – Jack Doff – Rhong Dong. I knew it meant something but it was elusive, so I said it a few more times silently, and then I said it out loud.
“Clark Kentson – Jack Doff – Rhong Dong.”
Anya laughed and smiled at me. I never did figure out why. There was nothing wrong with Rhong or Clark but something was off about Jack Doff. As I thought about it, I realized that most people with names ending in -off were Russian, but those names were never as short and as simple as Doff.
Chapter 9
The trip was pretty uneventful until we passed Florence and were getting close to the North Carolina border. As we were passing over the Pee Dee basin, two police cars passed us and slowed down in front of us after they passed. One pulled into the lane directly in front of me and the other stayed in the other lane and matched the first one’s speed, which made it necessary for me to slow down. A state police cruiser came up behind me, and we proceeded this way until we got to an area where there was a narrow expanse of grass at the side of the highway which sloped downward from that point to the bottom of a swale and up to the woods beyond which were pretty dense at this point. The cruiser started flashing the blue lights so I pulled over, and all four of us parked in a row just off the road on the narrow expanse of grass just off the shoulder. Was I worried that someone had seen us in the forest having our little tête-à-tête with Gopang? A little. But I had faith that Ben would get us out of it, if that was what this was all about, but it wasn’t.
The state trooper asked to see my driver’s license and registration and the other two, who had got out of their respective local deputy sheriff’s cars, took up positions, one in front and one in back of the Expedition. Both Anya and I had South Carolina driver’s licenses and the Expedition was a leased vehicle with South Carolina plates, so everything checked out. He then asked us to please get out of the Expedition and we did. Anya got out and smiled at all of them and walked around and stood next to me. She had tight fitting light blue jeans and a grey, tight tee shirt and she had a light blue Coach bag hanging off her shoulder that had been on the floor at her feet. She looked great, and I could tell those three boys thought so too. The state trooper, after giving her an appreciative look, then said,
“Would you mind if we searched your SUV? We had a tip there was going to be a drug shipment coming through here today, and we’re stopping all likely SUVs and vans. You can try to say no, but it would be better if you cooperated since we could get you for going over the speed limit, even though it was only five miles per hour over, and we usually don’t stop people for that. If you cooperate and we don’t find anything, then you can go on, so what do you say?”
“Search away,” I said.
“We will, but we have a drug sniffing dog on the way. There was another stop down the road and he’ll be here in about ten minutes. I hope you won’t complain, and we’d like to search it while we wait.” He was very polite and addressed what he said to Anya and not to me. I don’t know if he would have been that polite if it had only been me.
I handed him the keys and then told him to expect to find a Glock 9mm in the console since I knew they would hate a surprise like that if they found it on their own. And then things got interesting, but not in a really bad way. All three perked up at this point and the trooper asked if we had any other firearms beside the one in the console. It isn’t illegal to have a gun in a car console or glove compartment in South Carolina, but it is if you are c
arrying one concealed on your person and don’t have a concealed weapons permit or CWP as most people call them.
I said, “I have a five-shot Smith .38 revolver in a pocket holster and she should have another Glock 9mm in her purse.”
“And you have CWPs I assume. Can we see them and please take those guns out very slowly.”
By this time the other two had their service weapons drawn but not exactly pointing at us as we both took out our weapons carefully and handed them over and then retrieved our CWPs from our wallets.
“Pretty well armed, aren’t they Buddy?” One of the others commented to the trooper. And then turning to Anya, (see I told you I am generally ignored when she is around, especially by other men) he said,
“Why do you need so many guns? It looks like you can start a war.”
Anya just smiled and said, “You never can tell when you need to kill someone who’s hassling you.” She said it with an impish smile and a twinkle in her eye, and they just believed she was teasing them, but I knew differently.
“Do you really think you could actually shoot someone? It’s not that easy,” said the other one.
“Of course I could,” she answered. “No problem. I do it all the time.”
She smiled a big smile, and they were all enjoying the interaction as I was, since we had time to waste waiting for the canine squad to arrive.
“Like when’s the last time?” Buddy asked going along with it, and she answered,
“Last week. When was it Hon?” she said as she turned to me.
I smiled and said, “I think it was Saturday at the picnic,” and we both laughed and they all did too.
“And what did you do with the dead body,” Buddy continued in the same vein. And I answered,
“What everyone does with dead bodies around here. We dumped it in,” and everyone joined in unison and said, “Francis Marion National Forest,” and we all laughed together.
“Can you really shoot that thing, or is it just for show?” Buddy asked. I could tell he was really charmed by Anya. She just has that effect.
“I can shoot.”
“We have a little time. You want to give us a demonstration?”
“Sure. Why not?”
Buddy looked over towards the swampy woods, which were about twenty-five or thirty yards away and had some big pine trees. He spotted something he liked and then he turned to Anya and said,
“See those three pine cones on the nearest pine branch that’s hanging down in front. Are you good enough to hit one of those? They’re about the closest to us.”
He was surprised when Anya said, “Sure, no problem.”
“And after you miss,” said one of the others, “he’ll show you how easy it is. He’s one of the best shots in the force.”
I wish he hadn’t said that, because I didn’t want to challenge them and have Buddy come up short. Most men don’t take it well when they’re outshot by a woman.
Buddy handed Anya back her Glock and she racked the slide, took a two-hand hold and drew a bead on those pine cones. She was really enjoying herself. Three shots rang out and the three pine cones went flying.
“Well I’ll be damned,” said the other officer. “She’s damn good.”
Buddy wasn’t smiling. There is nothing worse than shooting last in a competition where someone has done well and your ego is involved. You start getting filled with self-doubt, and it makes it that much harder. You really have to have nerves of steel in a situation like that.
Although I was sure that Buddy could probably do as well as Anya in most circumstances, I didn’t want to take a chance that having the added pressure of having a girl potentially beat you in front of your fellow officers would make him freeze up, so I said,
“I thought you aren’t supposed to fire your weapon while you’re on duty without a reason. Are you sure you want to do it? We know you can do what she did, so there’s no reason to do it now that she’s shown that she can.”
I could see him thinking. I had given him an out. Moreover, I had as much as told him that if we were arrested, we could accuse him of drawing a weapon and firing it, and his gun would have shown that it had been fired. Thank God he wasn’t stupid and said,
“You’re right.” And then he smiled and told Anya that he was impressed with her shooting and she acted as if that was the best thing she had heard all day and smiled and giggled and told him it was luck.
Just around this time, the old canine squad arrived, and this German shepherd got out with his handler, and we all watched as it began to sniff around the Expedition. I told the handler that I had just washed the SUV and I hoped his dog wouldn’t lift his leg on it.
He said, “This dog is very well trained. He would never do anything like that,” and then turning to the dog, he said, “Would you Fritz?”
Fritz just continued to sniff around and I opened all the doors and the back of the SUV so he could sniff around to his heart’s content. After a while, he just sat down next to Buddy’s cruiser.
Buddy gave us our guns back after we closed up and apologized for delaying us, but we said we knew they were just doing their job and had enjoyed meeting all of them. After we got in, and as I was pulling out, I glanced back at the ensemble. I noticed that old Fritz had got up from his sitting position and was beginning to lift his leg on Buddy’s cruiser.
I heard Buddy exclaim as we drove out of sight,
“Keep that dog off my cruiser or there’ll be a helluva fight!”
Chapter 10
We stopped at the next exit to use the restrooms at a truck stop, and I filled the Expedition with gas while Anya bought a couple of sandwiches to eat when we got to the next rest area. It was a nice day out and too nice to eat at a truck stop. Anya was in a good mood after getting all that male attention, and I told her that I thought she was really impressive. What woman doesn’t like to be complimented? The next rest area was just over the state line in North Carolina and had a welcome center and all. We parked as far from the welcome center and rest rooms as possible, so we could eat our sandwiches away from everyone else.
As I shut off the engine she leaned over to me and whispered those three little words, those three little reassuring words, which every husband likes to hear from his wife.
She said, “Let’s have sex.”
Fortunately the rear two seats had been folded down and we had enough room to unroll one of the sleeping bags we were carrying. The Expedition had very dark tinted windows, which is why we were probably stopped by the police to begin with, and we knew no one would be able to look in. The Expedition is a big, solid vehicle and I don’t think it swayed on its chassis very much while we swayed on our respective chassis very much. If it did, we didn’t notice, we didn’t care. And yes, the plural of chassis is chassis in case you didn’t know that, and thought I had made a mistake, but I probably did make a mistake about “those three little reassuring words” that were probably actually four since “let’s” is a contraction of “let” and “us.” Afterwards we ate our sandwiches and were both very content with how the first part of the trip had gone, and especially how it had ended.
We decided to get off I-95 at I-74 and go up to Laurinburg, not Laurinboro or Laurinburgh or Laurinborough, but still another word that means the same thing, and take the back roads into Pittsboro through Aberdeen and Sanford. We enjoyed the scenery and noticed that there were a lot of pine trees. Really a lot of pine trees. Lots and lots of pine trees. In colonial times the state of North Carolina was known for producing tar for ship building and such from all the pine tar from all those pine trees. The state is known as the Tar Heel state, but not because the tar producers got tar on their heels, which they probably did because they got tar all over them. They could have been called it the tar arm state or the tar leg state instead of the Tar Heel state if that was the reason.
They got the nickname during the Civil War because one North Carolina regiment fought so bravely and refused to retreat that the opposing soldiers said
, admiringly, that the fought like they had tar on their heels and couldn’t back up. Now that was a nice compliment, but that saying really needs to go now. I mean, it isn’t accurate anymore. North Carolinians now want everyone to know they are peaceful people and would rather run away than fight. And they even advertise that on their license plates which say First in Flight. Now why they would want the whole world to know that they are the first to run away is beyond me. I mean, why would anyone brag about that of all things? I don’t think it helps to show that you’re weak, but then again, I’m not from North Carolina.
We got to the little town of Pittsboro in mid-afternoon and noticed it had the necessary gift shops and antiques shops to attract tourists as well as a very important shop, an old fashion ice cream shop, where I just knew we would spend a lot of time with Ben and Edy. We found out later that they served Breyer’s ice cream, but Ben and Edy didn’t seem to care. We found our new landlady’s house, which was directly across the street from the rental house she owned.
We had called ahead and she told us to come right in to sign the rental agreement and pick up the keys. We went inside and found that her house was filled with the most incredible amount of stuff you can imagine on display. That’s the only way I can describe it, and I didn’t want to call it junk because I didn’t know if it was junk since it all seemed to be in good condition and displayed as if it wasn’t junk. She had knick-knacks of every sort laid out on a variety of tables and shelves throughout the downstairs with just enough room left over to walk around them. She had an enormous number of ceramic figurines. The whole place looked like a large flea market.