Something Bad (6 page)

Mac’s hands twitched and he rocked forward and back on the bench. “I overheard him talking about some land in the north, and the swamp. He was asking if the swamp affected the weather in these parts.” He looked down at his twitching hands. “But, I don’t know if that’s important or not.” Before John could butt in, Mac looked up again. “Oh yeah. I stayed late the other night to catch up on the books, and I saw he had a fire going in the fireplace. I don’t see any firewood, though.” John’s hands moved in jerky circles in time to his words.

John cringed. He hoped Mac wouldn’t get excited. Mac’s fidgety movements consisted of a series of stereotyped nervous tics, and with a little concentration, John envisioned them as a repetitive series of syncopated drum beats with occasional drum solos of totally unique twitches that quickly yielded to the original background rhythm. If Mac became really excited, John equated the symphony of movements to the seven-minute drum solo in Iron Butterfly’s
In a Gadda Da Vida
. John tried to feel sorry for Mac, but he couldn’t edge out the contempt he felt for anyone who had a physical disability and didn’t try to hide it.

John turned away from Mac. “Press, you got anything?”

Press shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. “No. Every time I’m around, he just says ‘yes’ and ‘no’ to all the questions. I asked him if he did most of his work in the country and he said yes. I also asked if he liked being in the cities, and he said no, except for his house in the outskirts of New Orleans. Sorry I can’t add more. That any help?”

John bit his lower lip and cleared his throat. He glared at Press. “We’ll see. Billy, you got anything to add?”

“I found out that he gave a stack of money to the Reverend, for rent.” Billy’s grin was wide.

John exhaled through his lips. “That was a great job you did finding that out, but we already know that. We need to know if you got anything new to add.” He rolled his eyes.

Billy’s grin faded and he looked at the floor. “No. Nothing else, but I did find out about the money.”

John kept his head level and raised his eyes toward the sky. His open hands were held together as if praying, with his thumbs gripping the underside of his chin and the tips of his index fingers lightly tapping his lips. When he thought his pensive expression had provided the correct amount of suspense, he spoke. “I think they’re finally going to do it.”

“Do what?” Press said.

“I think they’re finally going to put in the freeway shunt.”

Billy frowned. “What freeway shunt?”

John rubbed his temples. “You know this one. The State has been talking about putting in a shunt between the two interstates on either side of us. Been considering it for years. They nearly did it a few years back. That’s when the Tri-counties joined together. It was between us and them bastards up in Rother County. Either State Route 27, or 17, up there. Remember?”

Billy chuckled, but without a smile. “I was still in high school when the counties joined up.”

“Mac, Press, you remember, right?” John said.

Mac’s hands began circling out of phase, and he rocked on the bench. “Yeah. I remember a lot of bad blood between us and Rother. They kept saying that 17 was the shorter route, but it ain’t true. Wes and Gabe showed them up on that one.” Mac blinked in time to his hand twitches. “Them bastards made fools of themselves. They thought they could bully our three little counties. But not when we stood together.”

Press patted Mac on the shoulder and leaned forward. “I spent some time up in Rother, in Calhoun Township. I can tell you they’re nothing special. Just because they act superior and their high school teams always whip ours, everyone here has an inferiority complex. I remember when it started. Way back when Elvis was in the early stages of his career—they got him in for a concert. They still talk about it, and we still wish it was us. I heard it described perfectly once, and I’ll never forget the words, although I forgot who said them. Whoever it was said the people here hold a festering sense of envy that oozes northward like a slime mold on the march.” He looked around the table. “Anybody ever see a slime mold?”

“Speak for yourself,” John said. “I’m not about to let them screw up the freeway shunt like they did before.”

“I’m not so sure the State was that serious about building the shunt back then,” Press said. “I seem to remember it as another Rother plot to bully us and to get more highway funds from the legislature to repair State Route 17.”

“They were, too, serious,” John said. “And I heard they’re on it again. And that’s where Thibideaux comes in.” He watched the three men lift their eyes at the mention of Thibideaux.

“I talked to him the other day,” John said. “I asked him if his business was in land, and he just said he was into acquisitions. And I tried to find out who he works for, but he’s tight-lipped on that. I did notice a slight change in his eyes when I mentioned the State, though, so I think I got him on that one.”

John paused to let his words sink in. He looked toward the rectory. “He’s got to be a land broker. I bet he’s here to check out our route. Maybe even start buying some land.”

Billy’s eyes were wide. “Where would they put the shunt?”

John cocked his head back and pointed north. “Probably pretty close to Route 27. Halfway between the southern county lines and the swamp up there.”

“But what about Rother?” Mac said. “As I recall, Wes and Gabe didn’t show that our route was shorter. They just showed that the two routes were about the same. Are we ready for another fight with Rother?”

“Thibideaux’s here, isn’t he?” John said. “He isn’t up in Rother.” John pushed his sleeves up on his arms, exposing his forearms. He was two inches under six feet and weighed a full two thirty-five. At a glance, it seemed that at least one-fourth of that weight resided in his forearms. His former occupation in an aluminum smelting plant required a great deal of upper body strength, but his subsequent inactivity lent a softness to his massive physique. This was accentuated by a waistline that first exceeded his inseam measurement about six inches ago.

The showers turned to hard rain and John spun to watch the water run off the roof of the porch. The sky to the west showed blue, suggesting that the storm was winding up for its finale in Boyston.

“Can you imagine what a freeway shunt would do for the Tri-counties?” John said. “If it happens, I’m going to open up a gas station that has one of them markets. I’ll put it right next to one of the off-ramps with a great big sign that can be seen for miles. I’ll have the missus move her diner there, too. I’ll just sit back and count the money.”

John turned around. “Mac, what would you do?”

Mac’s hands sprung into action. “Well, when I was driving out west, I seen a group of outlet stores along a freeway—in the middle of nowhere. You know, the ones that sell stuff really cheap. I wouldn’t mind opening up a couple right here in Boyston. People will burn three dollars in gas to save two in places like that. I’d still run the general store, though, for all of the local folks.”

John noticed that Billy’s eyes were stuck off in the distance, apparently in a daydream. “Hey, Billy. Star Fleet Command wants you to check out that planet over there.”

The laughter of the group brought Billy back to the porch.

“What? You talking to me? Sorry, John. I was just thinking.”

“We were wondering what you would do if the freeway shunt came our way,” John said, still chuckling.

Billy’s eyes went skyward and a slight grin spread across his face. “I’d buy a new tow truck because people would be needing help. I’d like to get one of them big trucks that can tow an eighteen-wheeler, too. Other than that, I’d just keep the shop going, but I’d probably have to hire somebody, with all the extra business.”

John stared at Billy. He wanted to say something to put him in his place. But he couldn’t argue with Billy’s plan. It made sense. He shook his head. How could someone with the IQ of a four-legger be such a brilliant mechanic? And run such a successful business. He backed off. He remembered that it was Billy who usually financed their investigations.

John considered halting the exercise without polling Press, but he decided to be polite. “Press, what would you do?”

“I don’t know. I suspect that I’d keep doing what I’m doing now,” Press said.

John’s face went red and he balled his huge hands into fists. “God damn it, Press. Why are you in with us? You never find out anything useful, and you never do anything to help. When was the last time you had an opinion on something?”

Press smiled. “An opinion on something, or an opinion on something important?”

“Go to hell. Why don’t you just go home and boss around those people you have working your farm for you?”

Press widened his smile. “Relax, John. No one here will give you mouth-to-mouth. I think you’re taking all this a little too serious. I’m here because you are my friends, and I think what we do is fun. Sometimes both fun and funny. But just to let you know I’m useful to the group, I’m planning to drive to the State Capitol next week. Maybe I’ll drop in on Senator Ambrose. She owes me a favor for all the work I did on her re-election campaign. I can get the inside scoop on the freeway shunt and put in a good word for both Thibideaux and the southern route. I’m going to make it a day by taking the family for a shop-a-thon and a picnic on the bank of the Big River.”

John looked up at the sky. All he saw was a contradiction—a cloudless blue sky, yet a soft rain continued to fall. It was a thankless job, he thought, making sure everything went smoothly in the Tri-counties. Sure, no one asked him to watch over things, but the elected officials didn’t know a thing about the day-to-day stuff that went on. And the sheriff only cared about the black-and-white of the law. He didn’t see the gray areas in between. John leaned his head out from under the roof and squinted at the raindrops. He still saw only blue.

G
ABE WATCHED
D
EENA
Lee dump coffee grounds from a stained filter and replace it with a fresh load of special grind. The bell over the door signaled entry of a new patron, but Gabe kept his gaze on Deena Lee, glad to have her back after her weeklong hiatus. Time to contact the proper authorities, she had told Teddy, to find her man, who may have met with foul play of some sort. Gabe straightened on his stool. Horace had never been gone this long.

To Gabe, Deena Lee was as cheerful as ever, but he couldn’t help notice that the crow’s feet by her eyes had deepened and the creases around her lips were now permanent reservoirs for lipstick runoff. He hoped his presence was a comfort to her, a reassurance that all could be normal, or better, now that Horace was gone. He was encouraged. She seemed to spend more time at his end of the counter than elsewhere.

Deena Lee turned to face the opposite end of the bar and froze with her hands on her hips. The usual din in the Edge was silenced enough to hear the gurgle of the dripping coffee.

He turned to see the strange little man from the rectory settle at the counter in the spot made infamous by Horace Murtry.

Gabe swiveled on his stool and stared. Thibideaux, he was called. A big name for such a small man, but appropriate. Both were strange. And not just that. Word spread fast that he was living in the rectory even though it was abandoned some twenty-five years ago and wasn’t considered habitable.

A connection stirred a clouded memory from Gabe’s past. He was already apprehensive about Thibideaux. An internal voice said that there was something bad in this half-pint of a man. But now, the rectory was also coming up unsettling, adding to the feeling. He tried to make sense of it, to pull it all together, but it was a fleet sensation—there and gone in a whiff, leaving an aftertaste that made Gabe want to pull back, to watch from a distance with one foot pointed in the direction of the nearest exit.

He watched Deena Lee wait on Thibideaux. She smiled her usual smile, but there was a twitch of nervousness in her face. He knew her that well—he could sense her discomfort like it was signed in neon. He watched her lips move and imagined her formal politeness, unlike the relaxed, joking banter she saved for the regulars.

The little man’s expression didn’t change. His strange grin seemed painted on—his lips barely moved when he spoke, and the corners of his mouth maintained the upturned grin that Gabe found so unsettling when he first saw him on the rectory porch a couple of weeks back.

The locals weren’t a group to pass up such a valuable opportunity, Gabe thought, since gossip was a form of currency in the Tri-counties, almost as valuable as money or a good crop of wheat. His prediction was quickly substantiated as a man next to Thibideaux leaned into a conversation. Thibideaux’s mouth moved once, his gaze apparently riveted on his plate on the counter.

To Gabe, Thibideaux seemed to be uncomfortable in the Edge, and he ate quickly, looking down at his food. The only exception was when Deena Lee came by. He seemed to relax when she was close and his eyes followed her as far as his stiff neck would allow. Gabe nodded, acknowledging his take on her universal draw to all men, no matter how strange.

Two younger men who Gabe didn’t know got up from the corner booth and approached Thibideaux, one standing on each side of him. The one to his left leaned forward and pointed at Thibideaux’s face. Thibideaux didn’t make eye contact, and he appeared to respond with a one-word answer. The second man leaned in, over Thibideaux’s other shoulder and said something, again with a pointing gesture. Once more, Thibideaux stared straight ahead and moved his lips once. The first man moved closer and put his arm on the counter, moving his face close to Thibideaux’s. Thibideaux reached into his breast pocket and withdrew a wallet. He looked up at the man and without saying a word, or touching the man in any way, appeared to push the man back a step. A look to the right had the same effect on the other inquisitor. Both remained frozen, flanking Thibideaux as he slid a few bills under his plate and pushed away from the counter. Gabe felt a chill.