Slow Curve on the Coquihalla
Page 14
Boyfriend said, "Oooof!" and doubled over. Sorry kneed him in the throat, grabbed him by the muscle shirt, intending to push him back against the door. Boyfriend slid right out of his shirt to a sitting position on the floor, and tweezered Sorry's ankles with his legs. Sorry started going down to his left, but managed to grab the sink, which creaked dangerously but held. He yanked his right foot out from between the guy's legs and pivoted around, slamming his boot sole into the side of the guy's face.
Boyfriend said, "MMmmph!" and started to bleed from the nose. Sorry stood panting at the sink, watching the guy roll his head back and forth against the door. In pain, Sorry hoped. He ran some water, soaked a wad of paper towels in it, and threw it in the guy's face.
"See? I ain't laughin'," said Sorry, and pulled the guy to his feet. "What's your problem, asshole?"
The guy pulled his muscle shirt back into place and spat on the floor, then scrambled to his feet. "Cocksuckin' motherfucker," he muttered through the wad of wet paper.
Sorry lowered his head and sucked in his breath, preparing to take another run at the guy, but Boyfriend held his arms up and said, "Okay. Okay. Enough."
"I asked you a question, slime dog. What's your problem?"
"Nothin'. No problem."
"Then why'd you come in here after me? You got a funny way of bein' sociable."
Boyfriend scowled. "I don't appreciate assholes makin' wise ass comments about my old lady." He took an unexpected run at Sorry and his right fist managed to connect with Sorry's ducking skull, just above the left ear. The skull won. Boyfriend's fist glanced off and his momentum carried him around far enough around for Sorry to grab the guy's left arm and twist it up behind his back as he slammed Boyfriend's face into the mildewed crack between the wall and the cubicle door. Sorry jammed his free elbow into Boyfriend's kidney.
"While you're here," he panted, "how's about tellin' me where you were two weeks ago tonight."
"Why?" Boyfriend said to the crack his nose was in.
"Never fuckin' mind, why." Sorry's elbow dug into Boyfriend's kidney. "Where were you two weeks ago tonight?"
"Aaaagh!" said Boyfriend.
Sorry's elbow dug again.
"Sumas. I was in fuckin' Sumas on fuckin' business."
"You heard anything about that accident on the Coq that night?"
"I don't know anything about any fuckin' accident."
"How about Chuck Wahl. You know where Chuck Wahl was that night?"
Boyfriend managed a fresh burst of energy, meaning that Boyfriend suspected Chuck Wahl of doing just what Crab said he did, meaning diddling Boyfriend's girlfriend with the big tits. Sorry pushed all his weight against Boyfriend's back, mashing his face further into the crack.
"You obviously know who I'm talkin' about. You know where I can find the motherfucker?" Sorry growled into Boyfriend's ear, giving Boyfriend's kidney another affectionate little poke.
"Nnnmmph," said Boyfriend.
"You useless piece of shit," said Sorry. "If you promise to be good, I'll let you go home to mama."
As Sorry left the bar, he grinned and waved at Crab, and blew a noisy kiss at the woman with big tits.
"Your boyfriend'll be out in a minute, sugar," he said. "He's just fixin' his face."
Hunter waited patiently until he had guided The Blue Knight out of the town of Hope and got up to speed on the first gentle incline of the Coquihalla Highway before he turned to Sorry and said, "Well?"
Sorry chuckled and twirled the end of his moustache. "Can't wait for the juicy bits, can ya?"
Hunter frowned in mock exasperation.
"Seems old Chuckie likes a certain piece of tail in town, and all things point to him keeping a date with her the night of the accident. Could very well be our boy Chuck rode with your friend all the way to Hope that night." He wiggled his bushy blond eyebrows. "The lady's old man seems to think so, anyway. He didn't say it in so many words, but he did get his nose out of joint over it."
Hunter waited for the echoes of Sorry's laugh to fade, then asked, "Did you find out anything else?"
"Yep. Chuckie likes big knockers."
As the Coquihalla wound and climbed and dipped in the headlights of The Blue Knight, Sorry fell asleep against the window, making damp snuffling noises in a regular rhythm. Hunter pulled over just beyond the toll booth and nudged Sorry's shoulder with the heel of his hand.
"Huh?" The biker jerked awake.
"You want to crawl in the sleeper until we get to Kamloops?"
"Hell, no! I'll be fine, boss," he said, rubbing his eyes. "I'm wide awake now."
Five miles and seven minutes later, the snuffling started again.
Gary had arrived home late on Thursday night. Although Suzanne had rehearsed what she wanted to say to him, she'd kept her mouth shut when she saw how tired he was. We'll talk in the morning, she'd decided. Now the kids were fed and dressed and it was time for her to take them over to her father's house to open the office, and for the dozenth time she stood at the door to the bedroom. Gary slept on his stomach, his head half buried beneath the pillow, shielding his eyes from the daylight that flooded the room. The top sheet, pale blue with navy piping, was bunched at his waist, exposing his naked upper body. The sight of his sculpted back and shoulders, rising and falling almost imperceptibly with the rhythm of his silent breath, distracted her thoughts and gave her an involuntary thrill of pride. This powerful human male belonged to her, he loved her, he had chosen her to bear his children. As it often did, the child in her felt a sense of wonderment at the woman she had become.
She approached the bed. Should she wake him? Yes, she decided. He'd slept long enough. She sat beside him, lifted the pillow, uncovering his head, and suppressed an urge to nibble his ear. Playfulness didn't suit the seriousness of what she had to say. Instead, she stroked his cheek, her knuckles sliding gently over the rough stubble of his beard. His exposed eye opened, rolled sideways to look at her, then closed again. Several seconds passed. Then with a throaty roar, Gary came to life. Suzanne found herself lying on her back, pinned between his legs and his chest. His arms encircled her, his hands groped her body playfully, and he nuzzled her head and neck, growling like a Rottweiler.
"Gary," she said, trying not to giggle. "Stop it!" He drew back, displayed a mischievous smile, and then resumed his ferocious nuzzling. She giggled in spite of herself, and the pace of his groping slowed. He scooped her up, holding her tightly against his chest and drew her across his body. As he lowered her back to the bed beside him, his mouth covered hers and she found her senses swimming in the warm depths of a kiss, dimly aware of his stubbled chin scraping hers. His skin was hot, his body scent stale from sleep, stale but strongly arousing. She fought to keep her senses from overwhelming her will. It would have been so easy to surrender.
"Gary," she said into his ear. "We have to talk."
"Shhhh," he said, covering her mouth again with his.
"Gary! The kids!" she said, as she pushed against his shoulders.
"They're too busy with Sesame Street to worry about what we're doing." He kept up his nuzzling.
"No, Gary. They're ready to go to Dad's. They'll come looking for me." Suzanne pulled herself up on her elbows, pulled herself away.
Gary groaned. "Oh, baby," he whined. "Look at me."
Suzanne looked guiltily and somewhat wistfully at his erection. They hadn't made love since before her father's accident. She hated to shut it down, on her own account as well as his. But there'd be lots of time to make it up to him, later. "I'm sorry," she said, making a sorry face. "Tonight, okay?" This had turned into a bad time to talk, but she couldn't put it off again. She couldn't let him leave. She climbed out the other side of the bed, then perched herself at the foot, out of his reach.
"Tonight, I'll be gone again, remember?" He leaned back against the headboard, pulling the pillow up behind his shoulders.
"No, Gary. You won't."
"Yeah. I will. That overnighter to Seattle, remember?"
"What?" He scrambled out from under the sheet and sat on the edge of the bed. "You're what?!"
"I'm taking you off the road." She lifted her chin, lips still pressed together, and stared him down.
"Suzy. What are you saying?" He looked incredulous. "Huh! Just like that. Good morning, honey. You're fired." He shook his head. "Huh! Just like that."
"I didn't say that."
"Well, what the fuck do you think it means, taking me off the road? That's my job, Suzy. I'm a truck driver, remember?"
"C'mon, Gary. You never really wanted to be a truck driver. You can get another job."
"Doing what? This is Kamloops, remember? This ain't the big city. What the hell other kind of job do you expect me to get, just like that, huh? You gonna give me your job in the office?" He slapped his bare thighs. "Fuckin' fired by my own wife!" He leaned toward her, peering into her eyes. "Now comes the big question. Why?"
"I don't want you ... getting hurt." She dropped her eyes.
"Go on," he said. "Explain this to me, please."
"Somebody tampered with your brakes on Tuesday. You could have been killed. I ... I don't want to lose you, too." She couldn't look at him. "Why, Gary? Tell me. Why is somebody trying to kill you?"
"What? You think ...?" He slid over to sit beside her. "Suzy." He took her hands, one in each of his, and made her look into his eyes. "Suzy, honey. You're serious, aren't you? You're really scared that somebody's trying to hurt me. Oh, Suzy, baby. It's okay. I'm okay. You don't have to worry. Hey, c'mon. What makes you think I'm in any danger?" His voice was gentle, his eyes dark with concern.
"You know," she said. "The problem with your brakes. El told me more about it than you did."
"Goddamn that El! Why can't she keep her fat mouth shut?!" Gary frowned and drew Suzanne closer, put one arm around her shoulder. "That's silly. Why would anybody want to kill a nice guy like me?" He grinned, prodding her to lighten up.
"Whoever killed Dad. It might have something to do with Waicom, like Hunter said. You were there, too, at Waicom. Maybe you saw something that you shouldn't have. Maybe it was you they were after in the first place. Maybe they think you know something?"
Gary sighed. "I don't know anything. I didn't see anything. There's nothing going on at Waicom, as far as I know. This whole thing is just somebody's overactive imagination." He put a finger under her chin, smiled and winked. "Hey, c'mon, Suzy. We're just regular folks. This isn't a T.V. show or a Shwarzenegger movie. Nobody's trying to terminate me. Look. Let's just put all this scary stuff behind us and get on with our lives, okay?" He gave her a hug. "It's been a tough couple of weeks. Losing your dad like that, it seemed like our whole lives suddenly fell apart. But we've got to pick ourselves up and get on with it, you know?"
"We can't just pretend nothing happened, Gary. If Dad was murdered, we can't just forget it and go on about our business."
"Who says your dad was murdered? Do the police think he was murdered? No. The police say it was an accident. The only person who thinks ... thinks," he repeated, "that your dad might have been murdered is a retired RCMP detective who's getting bored with being a truck driver and wants to create a little excitement in his life. Why don't you fire him? Tell him to butt out of our lives and leave us alone, huh?"
"You're wrong, Gary. Hunter isn't inventing anything. There's more to it than that. Dad figured that something screwy was going on at Waicom. That's why he didn't get the load cleared at the border that night, remember? If there's a chance – any chance at all – that his suspicions about Waicom got him killed, I don't want you going anywhere near them. I don't want you to have anything at all to do with them, you understand?"
"So, fire Waicom then, not me." Gary stroked her hands with his warm, dry fingers. "Look. Put yourself in my place, babe. I'm a man. I want to look after my family. I don't want to live off my wife's money, which is what I'd be doing if you took me off the road. Let me work, hon. Sure, keep me away from Waicom if it makes you feel better, but at least let me work until something else turns up. Sure, driving truck wasn't my first choice as a career. In fact, I'd rather we sold the company and went into another business all together, danger or no danger. That's no secret. But I don't want to push you to sell your father's business. Take your time, babe. Do what you need to do, it's okay."
Suzanne leaned her head against his shoulder. She'd meant to be strong and businesslike, stay in control, but she knew she was relinquishing control to Gary, and doing it gladly, without putting up any kind of a fight. She nodded, grateful for his strength and for his tenderness and for his love. He was what she needed, and maybe he was right.
He tipped her face up towards his own and kissed her, once, twice, three times softly. His lips lingered on hers, and his strong tongue parted them, gently and deliciously working its way into her mouth. She felt the rest of her tension melting away, felt her senses start to reel.
"Mommy! Veri lost my yellow crayon!"
Gary stopped kissing but didn't pull away, speaking out of the side of his mouth. "You already got somebody else lined up for the Seattle run tonight?"
"Uh huh," she answered, with the beginning of a smile.
"You can fire me until Monday, then. Looks like I've got something way more important to do tonight."
"Uh huh."
El had managed to line up a load out of Winnipeg, so Hunter and Sorry were turned around and on their way back to Kamloops by Thursday afternoon. El told Hunter that Suzanne and Gary would expect to see them late Friday night, and that Randy's house was again at Hunter's disposal. They had a meal in Revelstoke Friday evening, and Hunter drove the last shift into Kamloops. Sorry stayed up in the cab, feeling much revived after a meal of spaghetti and meatballs with garlic toast and salad, followed by a large piece of lemon meringue pie. It stayed light until they reached Salmon Arm, a town of about twelve thousand at the southwest tip of Shuswap Lake.
"This is where Helen moved to, isn't it?" Sorry's voice was solemn for a change. Sorry had met Ken, and he'd also met Helen, Ken's widow. He knew that, for twenty one years, Ken had been Hunter's closest friend. He knew that they had started their careers together at the R.C.M.P. training depot in Regina, and that they had ended their careers in neighboring detachments in the Vancouver area. He also knew that Ken had ended his career with a bullet.
"Yes." Hunter took a deep breath, let it out again. "Helen thought she'd have an easier time with their son in a small town." He hadn't thought about Helen for a long time. She wasn't easy to think about. Thinking about her and Ken churned him up inside.
"Smart lady." Sorry couldn't stay solemn for long. "I grew up in a small town, and look how good I turned out." He interrupted another laugh with, "Hey! Will ya look at that? Pierre's Point." He pointed to a sign beside the highway.
Hunter nodded, smiling. Back in the early eighties, when Pierre Trudeau was still Prime Minister of Canada, he had passed through Salmon Arm on the train. The good people of Salmon Arm met the train with an organized protest against some government policy, and the flamboyant Pierre responded to the citizenry with the infamous one-finger salute. A representation of the prime ministerial middle finger appeared on the sign advertising a campground on Shuswap Lake. The rest of Canada may have forgotten Pierre, but Salmon Arm never would.
Hunter kept his mouth shut tight, trying not to encourage his companion. He usually enjoyed talking to Sorry (listening was more like it), but they'd been on the road together since Tuesday, except for the hours each of them had spent in the sleeper. For some reason, the old saying about a tree falling in the forest came to mind. If Sorry were in the middle of a forest where there was no one to listen to him, would Sorry make a sound? Knowing Sorry, he'd end up talking the ear off a grizzly.
; Gary came to pick them up at the Ranverdan yard in Kamloops. Hunter parked The Blue Knight, and he and Sorry carried their bags towards Gary where he stood smoking beside the chain link gate under the amber glow of the security lights. As they walked towards Gary's 4x4, Hunter introduced Sorry as Dan Sorenson.
"Dan." Gary nodded, sucking in a lungful of smoke.
"I'm Sorry," said Sorry with a straight face.
"Huh?"
"Look, I said, I'm Sorry."
Gary looked at him with a mixture of wariness and bewilderment.
Sorry clapped him on the shoulder and grabbed his hand, pumping it heartily up and down. "Sorenson? Sorry? Get it?" He let go a laugh. "Nice to meet you, pal."
Gary rolled his eyes and snorted. "So you're not saying that you're sorry to meet me?" He tossed his cigarette butt on the bare, dry ground, and it bounced away in a little spray of sparks. He smiled out of one corner of his mouth, unlocking the back door of the 4x4 and ushering Sorry into the back seat.
"Damn right, I'm Sorry!"
"Well, I'm not."
Sorry laughed again. "Say, you're a lot more fun than Mr. Clean, here." He jerked his thumb at Hunter.
Hunter rubbed his jaw as he climbed in beside Gary. He was looking forward to a long shower and a stationary night's sleep. "You're gonna be sorry you said that."
They reached Randy's house in minutes, and Gary informed them that the key was under the mat. Hunter told Sorry to go ahead and let himself into the house. Once Sorry had gone, Hunter asked Gary if he'd had any further problems on the road, and Gary said no.
"I'd like to talk to you about it," Hunter said. "Are you going to be around tomorrow morning?"
Gary shook his head.
"Well, we've got to talk," said Hunter, "so we'd better do it now."
Gary sighed. "Look, you know how I feel about this ... this ... investigation of yours."
"Even after what happened with your brakes?" Hunter glanced over at the house. The upstairs lights had gone on. Sorry had found the kitchen.