Third Time Is a Charm

by Ed Nelson

  When allowed I drove back home. The entire time I kept hearing the thump of his head like a pumpkin hitting the sidewalk. At home I showered, remembered to call the studio and tell them I had been detained and would try to make it tomorrow. From there I went to the tower top and sat looking at the world below.

  I had been there about an hour when Mum and Dad showed up. Dad had heard about it on the radio and called Mum and they returned home hoping I would be there.

  They sat down with me.

  Dad softly asked, “You okay Rick?”

  “I think so, it seems so weird. One minute I’m stopping for a traffic light and next I’m killing a guy. How should I feel?”

  “Like you saved a little girl, they went to his house. He lived alone. When the police went in they found the bodies of three other children in his basement.”

  “Oh.”

  “There are reporters at the front gate. Do you want to talk to them?”

  “No.”

  “Rick, do you feel guilty that you killed him?”

  “No, first of all it really was an accident and second he needed to be stopped. He was dead the moment I saw him try to kidnap the little girl, if not at that moment then later in jail. People like him don’t last in prison from what I read.”

  “Then what is bothering you?”

  “Mum it is the sound of his head hitting the sidewalk. It keeps playing over and over in my mind.”

  Dad spoke up, “I still feel the axe going into those Russians heads. It does get better with time. Instead of the actual feeling it becomes a memory which is not as vivid, but it never seems to go away.”

  Mum added, “For me it’s a knife slicing into a neck.”

  I looked at her incredulously.

  “It’s memories from the resistance in France.”

  “Oh.” I seemed to be saying that a lot recently.

  “Rick the guy also had a gun so taking him down quickly was the only solution.”

  “Oh.”

  Dad snorted, “I thought he knew more words than that.”

  That broke me up a little. I gave a weak laugh.

  “I thought I did, I think I will study for a while to take my mind off things.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  Dad spoke up, “Rick time helps, the feeling will always be there but it will get duller until it becomes a faint echo. The frequency of remembering will drop off, just like other major events in your life. You will remember but there will be a distance and the details will fade.

  “Thanks Dad. It can’t come too soon for me.”

  I typed papers on my good old IBM until lunch. By then I actually was able to keep a train of thought going without going back to the guy hitting his head on the sidewalk.

  At lunch I was reminded that I had an appointment at the LA Federal Office building. I was to appear in front of a Judge and take an oath as a US Marshall and sign my emancipation papers.

  Dad drove me there. Traffic was horrible. It took almost an hour to get from home to downtown LA. They said it was going to be worse in the future. I think I will have to move if it gets that bad.

  Chapter 35

  At the Courthouse it took us a few minutes to find the right office. Once there we were almost immediately escorted into the office of the Honorable Thurman Clarke.

  After introductions the Judge informed me he had heard about the attempted kidnapping I had thwarted and that was good quick thinking.

  We chatted for a few minutes then Chief Deputy US Marshall Bill Tilghman arrived. It was obvious that he and Dad were well acquainted from the War. They hadn’t seen each other since and made arrangements to meet later and catch up.

  After a “Harrumph,” the Judge brought it back to the business at hand. First he had Dad and I sign my emancipation papers which he countersigned.

  Then he read out loud a letter written by an Assistant US Attorney General directing him to swear me in as a Special Deputy US Marshal as per 28 CFR 0.19a (3) of the US Code.

  After being sworn in Marshall Tilghman handed me the traditional five star Marshall’s badge and a thirty-eight special revolver. The badge was in a leather folder with my identification card. The revolver was in a shoulder holster rig.

  Marshall Tilghman thought I was starting out right by taking out a bad guy on my first day on the job. He was one person who didn’t appear squeamish about killing homicidal criminals. His off-hand comment made me feel a little better about the event. I did what I was supposed to do.

  He also added, “I understand you will be taking shooting lessons. If you pull that gun before you are qualified I’m going to kick your ass seven ways till Sunday.”

  Well that was pretty clear.

  “Actually Rick I hope to never hear of you again other than in your singing and acting. You have been made a Marshal so you can protect yourself, not to arrest bad guys. I haven’t been given the details but I understand some foreign government has been after you for unknown reasons.”

  “Never fear my singing days are over and maybe my acting. I’m concentrating on school right now. I have one movie project and that is it. As to the rest of that, I’m not trained as a police officer so won’t attempt to be one. As far as foreign governments I guess I really upset one of them.”

  The Judge was interested in the movie project so I gave a very short description of my appearance in the movie that I had basically written. Well at least came up with the scenario.

  I was also presented a copy of the letter from the AG’s office. From there Dad and I headed home. It took even longer as we were getting into what was called the ‘Rush Hour.’

  At dinner I found out that I wasn’t the only one that had an interesting day. Mary had tried out for a cereal advertisement. They had her do several pose shots and read some lines. She did well enough that they had her do a practice ad.

  “How did that go, Mary?”

  “The cereal tasted awful! I spit it out.”

  “Well that ended your career I bet.”

  “No, I begged for another chance. I did very well in faking like I loved it.”

  I looked at Mum.

  “She really did Rick.”

  So did you get the job?”

  Mary shook her head sadly, “No they decided since I didn’t really like the cereal it wouldn’t be right for me to represent them. The ad agency did say they would call me for other projects.”

  “Well there is hope then.”

  “It wasn’t as much fun as I thought it would be. It was real work.”

  “I know.”

  “I think I will stick with my newspaper column for now.”

  “So you are giving up before you have even really started?”

  Eyes flashed at me, both Mary and Mum’s, I suspect for different reasons. Mary’s for calling her a quitter, Mums because she wasn’t wild about Mary doing this.

  “I’m not quitting, I will keep at it, just not with this advertising agency!”

  “Rick, I’m certain you have homework to do.”

  Not being completely clueless I escaped to the library and grabbed a flight manual.

  After half an hour of trying to figure out how airplanes really stayed up in the air I gave up.

  I understood the Bernoulli principle of airflow and lift. It was that pesky Newton that was giving me fits.

  There is air pushing down on the wing. Tons of it, clear out to the edge of space. But for every action there was an equal and opposite reaction so the air below the wing was pushing back. But there was less below the wing than above. Of course it was compressed by all the weight above it.

  So it was equalized and should have no effect. However the curved shape of the wing left fewer square inches below than above so there would be more pounds per square inch pushing up than down. But then the top of the wing would have more area.

  The air below was denser so would gravity affect it more? Maybe I could drop different size cannon balls on Newton to prove the point. Nah. That experiment
has been done and besides our tower doesn’t lean. At least I hope that apple hurt when it hit him.

  The more I tried to sort it out the worse it got so I gave up and read fiction for the rest of the evening. I read about the adventures of Matt, Tex, Oscar and Pierre aboard the PRS James Randolph. They didn’t have to worry about how their craft stayed up in the air.

  I called the studio right after breakfast to reschedule my costume fitting. I was told if I was available they could take care of it this morning. So I headed over.

  Passing the intersection at school was strange. It was like nothing ever happened. The playground was empty as it wasn’t recess time. I don’t know what I thought would be different but nothing was.

  At the studio they had two costumes ready for me. They had me sized pretty well so it didn’t take long. There was an outfit for the woods and another for in town. One of them left me dark and foreboding the other cheerful and outgoing. This was to make the contrast even sharper at the end when it was shown that I was the psychopathic Lew Wetzel.

  When in town I was to be seen playing a fiddle and singing at several barn dances. This was going to be a neat trick as I could do neither. Well I could sing but sounded horrible to me, but I had never touched a fiddle or other stringed instrument in my life. I had got a drum for Christmas when I was three years old but I don’t think that counts. I could beat on it, but not in time.

  I asked about that and was told the Director would like to discuss that with me, but he wasn’t available today, could I call and make an appointment with him. Since Thanksgiving was coming up I told them I would call on Monday.

  After getting back home I returned a call from Susan Wallace. She guessed how I would feel about publicity on the kidnapper but she had called me anyway. It seems the talk shows wanted me to make the rounds again.

  I told her she was correct in my not wanting to go on the shows about this. I didn’t currently have any movies to publicize so felt no pressure to do so. We discussed the progress being made on the Cargo Container special but agreed that it was too early to roll it out.

  “Rick it is too early to push the special but what about letting the public know about how you are employing the people who lost their jobs over the surfing movie?”

  “Isn’t that bragging?”

  “No it is letting people know that Jackson Enterprises is a good company to be involved with. It also will do wonders for your image. It can’t hurt to have a positive image no matter what direction your life may take. Besides making the special a success helps all the people who are working on it.”

  “Susan you could sell ice to Eskimo’s, next you will be telling me that I’m selfish if I don’t do it.”

  “See you do understand!”

  “Sigh, okay I will do it, I have a date in Columbus Ohio next Friday night. I’m planning to fly over on Thursday. Try to work around that if you can.”

  “Could you fly to New York on Tuesday, appear Wednesday and Thursday and still go to Ohio?”

  “That would work.”

  “Now what is this about a date in Columbus, Enquiring minds will want to know.”

  “You know about the bachelor auction. For my date I’m taking Judy King to her Winter Ball.”

  “Is that a big event?”

  “I think it is a dance in their gym, I didn’t ask.”

  “Just for the fun of it, why don’t you call Judy and get the details.”

  “That’s a good idea, I never thought of it.”

  “What are you planning on wearing?”

  “Well until just now I thought a sport coat and tie would do.”

  “Where are you taking her to dinner, are you planning on ordering a corsage. Have you arranged transportation, and how about an after party?”

  “Uh, I had better call her soon.”

  “Have you made airline reservations yet?”

  “No.”

  “That’s good because we would have to change those. Also now we can get your interviews to pay for most of it, First Class of course.”

  I replied, “Of course,” in my most posh British accent.

  We both gave a small laugh at that and said our goodbyes. I would call Judy after school was out and then get back to Susan.

  Working on my multi-engine stuff until lunch made the time go fast. After eating I drove down to the gun shop that had been set up for my shooting lessons. It had an indoor range and I had never seen one before.

  My new instructor was really big on gun safety. He had me show him my new weapon. I was careful not to point it at him or put my finger inside the trigger guard. I broke the pistol and showed him the cylinders were empty then handed it to him.

  “Good practices Rick, I thought you haven’t had any formal lessons.”

  “I haven’t but they are very strict on the movie sets, well at least off camera. On camera they do some pretty stupid stuff.”

  “I’ve noticed,” he dryly told me.

  He provided me with a box of shells and asked me to shoot at a target. After loading I took aim. He gently asked me if I thought ear protection might be a good idea.

  That had never been an issue before but it made sense to smother loud noises when you could. After all I didn’t want any hearing loss, why it might even affect my singing voice if I couldn’t hear correctly. I donned the muffs anyway.

  As requested I fired off six shots at the target. He reeled it in.

  I thought it pretty good as all my shots were in the black though none in the bullseye.

  He then taught me the Weaver stance, named after the FBI agent who had standardized it. This time I had tighter pattern with one tearing the edge of the ten ring.

  He thought I had a pretty good sense of targeting and would get better with practice, the more the merrier.

  He told me to shoot the rest of the rounds from the box of fifty. I did this with the patterns remaining tight but only an occasional hit in the middle. When I was down to my last two rounds I did it differently. Shooting like I did with Elvis in the desert I shot from the hip.

  This time there were two overlapping holes in the ten ring.

  That got my instructors attention. He brought out another box of shells. This time I overlapped six rounds in the center.

  He told me he had never run into anyone with proprioception like mine. That was a new word for me so asked for an explanation. It was a fancy term for eye-hand coordination.

  He told me, forget the Weaver stance. Just shoot at the target.

  He had me assume several awkward positions including on my back on the floor. If I could see the target I could hit it. Not always a bullseye but close enough.

  “Rick your lessons are done. That said the more practice you do the better. Lastly most law enforcement officers go their whole career without having to shoot at someone. Since you aren’t going to be an active officer odds are you will never draw this in danger.

  Somehow that didn’t make me anymore comfortable.

  He then proceeded to set me up with several holsters. One was for my hip with a place for my badge, another to fit in the small of my back and a shoulder harness.

  The shoulder holster was bulky enough that I would have to have my sports coats modified or buy new ones. I definitely wasn’t going to fly to England for suit fittings.

  The shooting lessons took most of the afternoon so I returned home and studied school work until dinner.

  At dinner I was quizzed about my day. That was when I remembered I was supposed to call Judy. I would do that immediately after getting up from the table.

  While giving the details of my gun range experience Mum nodded her head.

  “You got that from my side of the family. That is one of the reasons you are so good at some sports.”

  She wanted to know what sort of shoulder rig I had been given. I had no idea but the name was stamped inside the holster.

  I was tasked with obtaining another shoulder rig and back holster to send to my tailor in England. They in tur
n were to make another suit to fit and then I would send all my suits back for modification. I thought that would take forever but learned about a new service called, air freight.

  That got me to thinking and I made a note to investigate how air freight was loaded, maybe there was a container solution for them.

  I headed directly to my room to call Judy as soon as dinner was over. It was so important I even passed on a second helping of bread pudding.

  The operator was able to connect us in short order. She sounded very happy to hear from me.

  Chapter 36

  “Judy I called about the Winter Ball next Friday, I have no idea of how formal of an event it is. I imagine it is in the gym and a sport coat will do?”

  I was soon disabused of that. It was in the Ballroom of a major hotel downtown Columbus and very formal. White tie and tux formal! She guided me through the events of the evening. It would start with us going to dinner. After arriving at the Ball we would pose for photographs. Next would be her introduction to society.

  We had to back up at that point. I had been totally confused thinking it was a high school event. No it was the annual debutant ball of the Daughters of the American Revolution. We would be at the top of the stairs and announced.

  Yikes! I had really dodged a bullet with this phone call. I better do something nice for Susan Wallace.

  Judy told me she would take care of dinner arrangements as we would be going in a small group. I was directed to reserve a limo for a party of six. I did ask for advice on where to order a corsage.

  After those details were worked out we spent some time updating each other on our week. I was torn about telling her about the child predator but knew it would come out. I felt better after giving her the basic details, nothing gory about brains on the sidewalk.

  She accepted it very well. I was to let her know what TV shows I would be appearing on so she could plan to watch.

  We ended up talking for over an hour but it flew by.

  When I hung up I realized I had a silly grin.

  I called Susan right away. She asked me what color Judy’s gown would be. Lucky for me Judy had told me because I would never have thought to ask.