The Chardon Chronicles: Season One -- The Harvest Festival

by Kevin Kimmich

  Robbie kept stepping closer and Tony pulled the girls together and ducked behind them. The group backed into a corner of the room. The caramel colored girl wrenched her arm away from Tony, and Robbie stepped forward and put the gun against Tony’s chest and pulled the trigger twice. Tony crumpled backward into the corner and David pulled the other girl clear. Tony gasped and bubbles of blood frothed on his lips. Robbie shot him in the head.

  “Check for security tapes and wipe it all down,” Robbie said, “then let’s go.”

  They did a quick tour of the house and found nothing. When they got back to the car, Johnny was already inside, reviewing the footage. They put the rabbit’s cage in the trunk, the kids in the back seat and pulled away into the night.

  “Did you get it?” Robbie asked.

  Dana sat on Johnny’s lap, and the three kids took up the rest of the space. He looked over her shoulder and said, “Yep. Cut it just before you got in the room. That was the most twisted thing… Nobody will believe it. It’s worse than a nightmare. People will think it’s a movie or something...”

  Dana put her hands out, “Let’s not talk shop right now with the little ones here…”

  David turned around. “You guys speak English?” The kids were too traumatized to respond.

  They drove in silence back to Kenny’s. He met them outside. Dana mothered the kids over onto the bus and the men stood around.

  “How’d it go, greenie?” he asked Johnny.

  “We got amazing footage and audio.”

  “Take ‘em down?” Kenny asked.

  Robbie replied, “yeah, they’re back on the other side. A couple of nasty ones.”

  “Two down… thousands to go?” Kenny laughed at the futility of it.

  ~End of Episode Three~

  EPISODE FOUR--Divine Cow

  Present Day

  Chapter One

  Steve and Chloe trotted down the main staircase of the high school heading toward the cafeteria. A tall girl with thick blond curls blocked their way at the bottom.

  Monica Merchant folded her arms and got in Chloe’s face. She squeaked, “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.”

  Chloe looked at Steve. He shrugged. Chloe said, “Ummm… I’m not sure what you’re talking about, so why not tell us?”

  “Stay away from my man, you trash. You, freaking cow!”

  “Who? Steve?” Chloe pointed.

  Monica rolled her eyes and shook her finger in Chloe’s face. “Oh, as if! You know who I’m talking about.” Steve put up his hands and walked past.

  “I’ll save you a seat. When you’re done with this freak, I’ll be in there.” He walked through the cafeteria doors.

  Chloe said icily, “Look. I have no idea what your drama is. I’m going to go get some lunch. You should too. It’s sloppy joe day.” Chloe started to walk past.

  “Oh, and a cow like you would know. Cow.” Monica was a volleyball player--the captain of the team this year. She was a head taller than Chloe and she wanted a physical confrontation. Monica shoved her. Chloe absorbed the push and gracefully took a step back and eyed Monica.

  Chloe breathed. She worked hard to keep her temper under wraps. “Don’t touch me again… I’m going to go in there and eat and talk to my friends. I suggest if you have a problem with ‘your man’ you bring it up with him, got it? I can’t imagine anyone would want to let a prize like you go.” She started walking past Monica.

  Monica attempted to push her a second time, but Chloe grabbed her arm and let Monica’s momentum carry her past. A dozen possibilities flashed through her mind before Monica even began to understand what happened. She could destroy Monica’s knee with a kick, or punch her in the neck or kidney or in the bundle of nerves by her shoulder, but instead, she grabbed her index finger and bent it back.

  Monica knelt on the floor. She said, “Ow ow ow ow ow… Please…”

  People were starting to gather around the scene, so Chloe let her go before any teachers got involved. Monica held her hand and started crying and went for the bathroom.

  Chloe said, “Drama. Drama. Drama.” and held her hands up over her head and did a stage bow, then joined Steve at their table.

  “Who was that crazy chick?” she asked.

  Steve had a mouthful of sloppy joe. He held up a finger until he swallowed. “Oh, that’s Monica Merchant. She’s a jock chick. Her dad’s in real estate has a few McDonald’s too. She’s got the beemer out in the lot.”

  “What was her problem? Is she always like that?” Chloe started eating, too. “Oh man, you can’t beat a good sloppy joe. Why do they serve anything else? Food of the gods.”

  Steve laughed. “Wanna hear what my Dad’d say?”

  “Sure…” she chuckled as he got into character.

  “Son, high school is a lek. That’s a ‘breeding’ arena. The males and females compete for dominance and the ability to breed with partners with desirable characteristics…” he laughed.

  “Hmmm… what’d you call it?”

  “A ‘lek’. He had me watch a documentary on it. It actually made some sense.”

  “How so?” She was intrigued.

  “You’re new… you’re super fit, attractive. Definitely the best hair and smile of any girl here. Competition...” he blushed a little. “I’m so used to being around Tracy as a buddy--she’s a hottie too--that I kind of forget about the whole dating drama. But now, homecoming… People starting to go crazy, competing.” he chomped another bite.

  “I think you’re dad’s pretty smart.” she said.

  “Yeah. He knows a lot of stuff. He’s into science.”

  Morgan and Tracy sat down. Steve said, “Monica Merchant got all up in Chloe’s face.”

  Tracy said, “That chick is crazy. Last year, I saw her in a hair pulling fight with Amber Rose in the parking lot.”

  “About what?” Chloe asked.

  “Her boyfriend ‘cheated’ on her with Amber.”

  “Ah, she’s a jealous one, I guess. Accused me of the same thing.”

  Morgan asked, “Oh, and who’s the lucky boy?”

  Chloe said, “I honestly have no clue. I’m the new girl… been making the rounds talking to everyone. I’m friendly. It’s what I do.”

  Tracy tapped the table, “I know! It’s Richard Golden. We talked to those guys in the parking lot this morning.”

  “What? That? Please…” Chloe answered. “She is crazy.”

  Chapter Two

  Robbie finished the video chat with Johnny and dug out some binoculars and went up into the attic. The attic had windows on each face of the house, so he had a decent view of the yard and the woods. He shifted boxes out of the way so he could move around. Perry followed him up the steep stairs.

  “That’s a good boy. Chill out up here with me.”

  It took about a half hour for a truck to show up in the driveway. Two men in generic security guard uniforms got out. “Game Warden” had been stencilled on the side of the truck.

  “I wonder if that paint’s still wet.” he snapped a picture of the license plate and sent it to Johnny. It was a normal Ohio plate, not a state vehicle.

  A reply came a few seconds later. “ON IT”

  Two guys got out of the truck. Robbie didn’t recognize the faces--it was Yuri and Saul. Yuri’s uniform was overly large and the pants were rolled up. They unloaded a cardboard box from the back of the truck. Saul carried the box and Yuri slung a rifle over his shoulder. Robbie watched them with the binoculars as they went into the woods.

  Once they thought they were out of sight, Saul boosted Yuri into a tree and tossed him something from the box.

  “Must be a camera…” he said to Perry and patted him on the head.

  They repeated the procedure at another location in the woods with a different sight line on the house. They circled around through the woods and he lost sight of them.

  They installed cameras. SEND

  Johnny emailed him the registration information on the vehicle. I
t was registered to the Charles Smith, the Sheriff.

  That’s odd… Sheriff’s personal truck. SEND

  “Interesting… I’ll dig.” Johnny replied.

  Another thirty minutes passed and the two men returned to the truck. They put the empty box in the cab and climbed in. They honked the horn and drove away from the house, turned left and accelerated away.

  Robbie walked out to his M1008 and Perry hopped in with him. “Let’s follow these bastards.”

  He stormed down the driveway, turned left and accelerated to catch up, but a few seconds later he stomped on the brakes since a sheriff’s car was parked in a drive at the bottom of the hill. He wasn’t speeding, but the bubble lights lit up anyway.

  “Oh sheeeit.” he grumbled and pulled over. The car continued past him up to the stop sign. He continued on slowly. One of the sheriff’s deputies climbed out and held up a hand.

  “Sorry, sir the road’s closed up ahead… Accident. You can go around on 322 or Wilson Mills.”

  “OK. Thanks…” Robbie turned around and went back to the farm.

  Perry was puzzled by the short trip, and stayed in the truck after Robbie got out. “Well, boy, seems like things are getting interesting, here. C’mon.”

  He texted Johnny, “Need backup. Busy?” SEND

  He got a reply from Dana, “On the way. :x”

  He went upstairs and started to set up the guest rooms.

  Chapter Three

  Keith Marte tracked down Sarah Cantoe’s friends by doing a reverse phone number lookup on the numbers from Sarah’s statements. The addresses were both in Portage County but on opposite sides of the proverbial tracks. One of the addresses was a rented house in Windham. The other was in Hudson in a big Greek revival house.

  He drafted an official looking letter and put a headshot of himself in the upper right hand corner. It was addressed from “The Office of Unclaimed Wealth” to Dickie Parsons, Sarah’s friend. It read that an unclaimed bank account registered to Sarah Cantoe was going to be turned over to the state of Ohio unless someone claimed the funds. He included the phone number of a prepaid phone. He sealed up the letter and stamped it with a fake postmark and drove to Windham.

  The address was for a run down house with a view of the turnpike. A sad chainlink fence surrounded the property, but had collapsed in a couple of places. A big willow tree swayed in gentle wind and shaded most of the yard from the midmorning sunshine. The driveway was gravel and had several muddy potholes. The white paint on the house was peeling and the wood underneath was battleship gray from the weather.

  He got out of the car and knocked on the rattly screen door. Nobody home. The mailbox only had a few pieces of junk mail, so he put the letter inside and climbed back into the car and drove toward Hudson.

  He was more intrigued by his next target, a man named Fredrich Reichstaff. If Sarah had a handler before she killed Marcus Rice, he could be the man. He stopped at a bagel shop to pick up some coffee and a snack. A short balding man in a suit was berating the counter girl.

  “I’m sorry sir, we don’t have any cinnamon raisin today.” She said matter of factly. She was short, only about 4’ 11” and had dark red dyed hair that was pulled up under a black baseball cap with a logo that said “BagelCo”.

  “What do you mean? How’s that even possible. This is a bagel shop. I get that every fucking day.”

  The girl said, “I don’t know what to tell you. I can’t make them magically appear.”

  “Don’t you get smart with me you trash…” the man stepped around the counter and the girl backed away.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Keith grabbed the man’s shoulder. The man twisted away. He was apoplectic.

  “Who the fuck are you?” the man said.

  “Look, dipshit, I think you need to get some perspective. It’s a bagel.” Keith folded his arms.

  “Asshole. You stepped in it. What you just did... grabbing me... that was assault.”

  “No that wasn’t,” Keith asked and shook his head.

  “Yes it was, and now you’re fuckegaaak.” Keith grabbed his throat and squeezed.

  “Where’s the dumpster?” he asked the girl.

  She was shocked, but she pointed through the double doors, “Out back.” She followed them outside.

  Keith dragged the man by the tie and slammed him against the dumpster. Keith pulled out his gun and stuck the barrel against the man’s forehead. “If there’s one thing I truly despise, it’s bullies. My guess is you’re a weasel who uses other people to do his dirty work… Unfortunately for you, I do my own.”

  “Whoa!” the girl shouted. “Hey, it’s not that big of a deal!” she pleaded with Keith. He looked back at her and winked.

  The man was frozen in terror. Keith rifled through the guy’s pockets. Keith took his wallet and smashed his cellphone on the ground. “Now I know your name and know where you live.” He grabbed the guy’s neck and holstered the gun, then picked him up by the belt and threw him in the dumpster. Keith’s bad shoulder throbbed at the effort.

  Keith rubbed the shoulder and said, “Owww. Too old for this tough guy act.” and he walked back into the bagel shop.

  After Keith was inside, the man shouted to the girl, “Aren’t you going to call 911?!”

  She shrugged, “Nah.” She followed Keith inside and locked the door.

  “You mind if I take the surveillance tape? That was a little over the top.” Keith said.

  She said, “I think they get it every night, that might get me in trouble.”

  He nodded, “I’ll just erase it. They’ll think the machine is on the fritz.”

  “Ok, then.”

  Keith took the tape and smacked it on his palm and went out to the car. He had a magnetic media eraser in the trunk. He plugged it in the lighter and it start to buzz. He slid the cassette back and forth over the device several times, then popped the cover open, and rubbed the tape between his thumb and index finger until was warm enough to stretch. He nudged and pulled it like taffy. He went back in and loaded it back into the machine.

  “That should do it. Oh here’s that asshole’s wallet. Between you and me, there’s about two-thousand dollars in there. I got his name, address, and number by the way. Here’s my card, If you get any more trouble from this creep, give me a call.”

  She flipped through the cash. “I’m no thief. But thanks for the offer, Mr. Marte,”

  “No problema… Hollie is it?” he pointed at her nametag. I’ll wait for him to leave so he doesn’t vent on you. Oh, and I’ll take a cup of coffee and a plain bagel… I just eat em like a donut.” He left a fifty dollar tip.

  He got out to the car and waited while the adrenaline subsided. The man walked around the building, passed Keith’s Toyota and opened the door of a shiny black Jaguar. Keith rolled down his window.

  “Hey asshole, Hollie’s got your wallet.” he pointed inside the building.

  The man froze in his tracks. He left the Jag’s door open and went inside. He came out with the wallet in his hand.

  Keith raised his coffee cup in a toast, “Too bad you didn’t get the coffee--it’s nice and fresh.”

  The man drove out of the parking lot. He almost pulled into traffic. A car layed on the horn as it drove around his Jag. Keith could hear the guy screaming in rage like a caged animal.

  Keith stayed in the parking lot for a few minutes then went to the Reichstaff house.

  The Reichstaff house was on a quiet side street. The house was a stately greek revival. It looked a little like a mini parthenon. It’s walls were silver gray and the trim was a dark charcoal gray. Its concrete driveway was flanked by neat hedgerows. A black Mercedes S550 was sitting in the drive. A clergy sticker was on the plate. A squat gothic style stone building was on the opposite side of the road. A tasteful placard was on the road facing wall next to elaborately carved double doors.

  “Old Stone Gathering Hall, est. 1883”

  Keith looked it up on his phone. The church had a simple web s
ite: at the bottom of the page was a picture of Brother Reichstaff. He looked to be in his early sixties. He was a slightly jowly man who wore square black rimmed glasses and had wispy white hair.

  “Well, maybe it’s time for me and Chloe to get religion.” He got out a camera with a telephoto lens and took pictures of the house, the church, and the car then drove back to the office.

  Chapter Four

  When the final bell rang, Chloe and Tracy walked out to the parking lot together. Cars were already streaming out.

  Tracy’s phone buzzed. She got a text from Richard Golden.

  “Sup. U2 wanna get 2geth latr?”

  She laughed and grabbed Chloe’s arm. “Hey wait. Read this.”

  “Our gentleman friends?” Chloe asked. She read the message and let out a long “hmmmm….”

  Tracy asked, “Well?”

  “I dunno. I worry about guys who keep that kind of crazy around.”