Interlude
Walt saw us first. Charlie and I found him and Abby in the tiny freezer section of the market. He called out over a bag of Birdseye Frozen Green Beans. “What happened? You look like a pair of drowned rats!”
I answered. “Sheriff Andy impounded Charlie’s Jeep and we got caught in the storm.”
Abby scowled darkly. “I swear, when I get my hands on him…”
I held my hand up to stop her threat. “I’m glad he did what he did. This proves he’s involved in the scheme to make David sell the property. He didn’t arrest us or hurt us. We got soaked, but that’s all that happened. For now, I suggest you pay the fine to get the Jeep back and chalk it up to experience. We’ll get him back before this is over.”
She gave up on anger and nursed a growing hatred of her cousin. “I suppose we need to go to the sheriff’s office.”
“I doubt they’ve managed to get the Jeep towed in yet. It didn’t pass us on the way here and it’s still raining steady. Finish your shopping. We’ll go home with you. Charlie and me can come back after we’re dry.”
Abby agreed. Charlie and I went to the front of the store where he bought a fresh pack of smokes and a box of kitchen matches. The pack he had was ruined and his lighter was full of water. We loitered at the front of the store and smoked in the relative comfort of a bench near the entrance.
He blew smoke toward the fluorescent light fixture above our heads. “What do we do now?”
I’d been wondering that very thing and wasn’t sure. “We learned some stuff today, but we’re really no wiser. We know where our blue cowboy works and where the hoof-and-mouth came from. He’s the one who infected Lars Krengel’s herd. He had to be. The virus is so contagious, he didn’t even have to inject the cows. He could have brought some contaminated feed from one of the sick cows and that would have infected Krengel’s whole herd. That’s a one-and-one is two conclusion.
“Another easy certainty is that Andy is involved. The shiny stones are why they’re doing what they’re doing. The trouble is the stuff we don’t know. We don’t know who the head man is. It could be Simon who owns the well drilling company, but it doesn’t have to be. We don’t know why they killed Lars Krengel. We don’t know who did the killing. It was likely the cowboy, but maybe not. We filled in some facts but the picture we’re painting is no clearer. I’m not sure how we move forward.
“I’m half tempted to telephone the well driller and tell him there’s something wrong with the well. Once he’s there, we could beat some truth out of him.” I flexed my painful hands and worried about how much dampness had gotten into the joints from the rain. “I can’t even make a fist anymore, let alone beat someone hard enough to make them talk. Even if I could close my hands, I don’t think I’ve got it in me to do that kind of shit anymore. I guess I’m glad.”
“Did you used to?”
“I’ve done all kinds of things I’m not particularly proud of. I told you how many men I killed. That’s an easy number to keep track of. The number of men I’ve laid hands on over the years is staggering. Some of them deserved it, but too many didn’t. I wonder if my arthritis is God’s way of showing me that I did wrong before I have to stand before him to explain myself.”
Charlie finished a cigarette and put it out in a smoking stand next to the bench. He balled a hand into an oversized fist. “I could do it if there was no other way.”
“No, you couldn’t and that’s a good thing. It takes a special brand of darkness to beat a man to the breaking point. You can’t just hit him once. You’ve got to hit him over and over and over again. You’ve got to hit him while he screams that he’s innocent or that he doesn’t know anything. You’ve got to hurt him while he begs you to stop. You’ve got to beat him black and blue and bloody.
“You’ve got to hope like hell he knows something and you’re not just throwing him a beating for no reason. You might even have to knock him out and slap him awake so you can beat him some more. You’ve got to torture him with your fists until he breaks and spills his guts. Even when he does, you’ve got to keep hurting him to make sure he’s told all he knows. That’s what it means to beat the truth out of a man.”
He stared at me. “I didn’t realize you had to go that far. I thought you just had to knock them around a little and they’d talk.”
“You’ve got to hurt them. You’ve got to punish their body until it breaks their spirit.”
“You’ve done that?”
“I have.”
“How could you?”
I parroted his question aloud. “How could I?” I thought about it and came up with a way to explain that would be very personal to Charlie. “Do you remember how awful you felt when your dad accused you of burning the house down?”
“Yeah. I couldn’t sleep. I was mad and sad and worried. I didn’t know what to do.”
“Imagine what it would feel like if you told your father a secret about yourself. Let’s say you came to him out of love and respect to confess that you liked pretty Miss Emily and her gigantic ass.”
He laughed and shushed me. “You gotta stop that. Everyone knows everyone else around here. If someone hears, they’ll carry it right back to Em.”
“Sorry. Anyway, let’s say you went to the man you respected and loved most in the whole wide world because you needed to confess something. Let’s say you were attracted to men, and you needed to tell someone, so you chose the one person you knew would understand. Instead of the hug that you wanted and the love you so desperately needed, your father called you a faggot, shoved you out of his tailor’s shop, and locked the door between you. How would you feel then? Would you be angry? Would that teach you to hate? Would you spend years taking your hate out on everyone you came in contact with? Would you become a monster? Maybe you wouldn't, but that's what i did.
“Back in 1918, when I was just about your age, my father put me out without a penny in my pocket or a coat on my back. He did it because I’m queer. I had nowhere to go, so I joined the army to fight in the war. When I was in basic training, I learned to use my hate to help me win. I fed the darkness inside until I was capable of anything. The darkness replaced the love I no longer had. That’s how I could do the things I did. It’s also why, when I met your father in 1929, I never tried to have him. I knew the festering hate inside me would contaminate him. As big and consuming as the darkness was, whatever was left of my goodness knew it would be a sin to ruin someone so perfect.”
Charlie drew the logical conclusion. “That’s why you sent him away.”
“Partly.” I thought about telling him about Peter, but I didn’t have the energy to dredge all that up from the accumulated muck at the bottom of my soul. Luckily, Walt and Abby were on their way through the checkout line. Their presence allowed me to cut the story short. “All that was a long time ago. I don’t want to think about it anymore. Let’s help your mom with her groceries and get the hell out of here.”
* * * *
We rode to the house, changed clothes, had lunch, and borrowed Abby’s sedan to go to the sheriff’s office. We paid far too much money for the laundry list of traffic citations and the impound fee for the Jeep and went back to the farm. It was still raining by the time we got back, but it had tapered down to a steady soak instead of a deluge.
We made a quick check on the old timers at the Krengel place. I talked with George while Charlie climbed around the piles of hay in the loft to look for roof leaks. George had nothing to report. Charlie and I went down into the main area of the barn to try to decide what to do next. I still had no idea.
He opened one of the huge sliding doors while I sat on the pallet of vermiculite insulation. I accepted a cigarette and asked about his search for leaks. “Why were you checking? Who cares if the roof leaks on old hay?”
He blew smoke toward the open door, but it didn’t go out. The air was thick with moisture and the smoke gathered around us in a bluish-grey haze. “Remember the story my mom told about Sven’s hay catching fire? It can happen if old stuff gets wet too. If the roof leaks bad enough and the hay soaks up a lot of water, then the weather gets hot, the hay will ferment and heat up, and it can light off. It’s very rare, but it’s worth checking. The roof is tight. I should have known it would be. Lars used to paint the tin every couple years. There’s more paint up there than tin.”
I drew on my cigarette and knocked some ash on the floor. “What do we do, Charlie? We know who the players are. We know the crimes. We still don’t know who the mastermind is. I don’t know how to go forward.”
He pondered while he smoked and watched the steady rain. “We were gonna talk to the well guy once before, but we didn’t. Why didn’t we?”
I had to think back to remember. “We didn’t want them to know we were onto their game.”
“They must know by now, right? That Keith guy saw us, and we figure he called Andy. The whole bunch must know we’re looking into things. They don’t have to know we found the sapphires, but they have to figure we’re suspicious of them.”
I considered the idea. “You might have a point. Besides, the well driller is the one man we haven’t talked to. Maybe he’ll let something slip. We’ll never get anything out of Andy because we’ve got no leverage. The cowboy probably won’t come near us. The well driller is our one path forward. We might try to reach Krengel’s son, but I hate to call the poor bastard and suggest his dad was murdered when he’s grieving. Do you know anything about Simon what’s-his-name?”
“I know who he is. I never met him. I seen him around town. He looks like a business owner.”
“What’s that mean?”
“I don’t know. Like a salesman, I guess.”
“Fair enough.”
We lapsed into silence to watch the rain.
* * * *
David sipped his coffee. He’d checked on the sluice and the repaired dykes all day. His work stood the strain of the water and held fast. He was pleased. He and Abby sat next to each other on a porch swing that was hung from chains. Walt and I occupied the two regular chairs. We passed a cigar back and forth. Charlie and Mitch stood while Charlie smoked.
The night was cool from the storm, but the air was still. The rain passed-off during dinner and the sun came out just in time to set. The sky was clear and bright with plentiful stars and a waxing moon. The farmyard was lit with eerie white light.
I raised the topic of the well-driller. David explained what he knew. “Simon’s a sharp dealer. I don’t think he’s a crook, but if you told me he was, I wouldn’t be surprised. He’s lived here all his life, and everyone has about the same opinion of him. Why? Do you think he’s the man you’re looking for?”
“I don’t know. I think I’m going to shake him and see if anything comes loose. I don’t know if he’s the mastermind we’re after, or if he just happens to employ a greedy, sneaky drill operator. Either way, I plan to press him to see if he knows anything. If he doesn’t, I’ll have a crack at the driller.”
David pushed the swing back and let it glide forward in a silent arc. Abby shivered and snuggled into his side for warmth. He wrapped an arm around her and tucked her in close. He didn’t seem to like my suggestion about rattling Simon, but he didn’t argue. “I left the matter in your hands. If you think Simon can tell you something, go ask.”
“Thanks.”
He raised another concern. “This nonsense with Andy is getting ridiculous. I probably should’ve gotten tags for the Jeep a long time ago, but it’s been around here for so long, I forgot about how much road time it gets.”
“Where did it come from?”
“They were selling them after the war. They had tons of them all crated-up to go overseas. The war ended and the army didn’t have a use for them. I bought mine brand new for one-hundred-dollars. They delivered it on a truck and dropped it right here in the yard. All I had to do was open the crate, bolt the wheels on, and scrub off the cosmoline.”
“What’s that? Cosmo-whatever.”
“It’s a grease they use to protect machinery for shipping overseas. It keeps the salt air off the metal. They also use it for anything that’s going to be laid up for a while. The farm equipment Simon sells usually comes with cosmoline on it. It cleans off with gas or kerosene.”
Walt passed the cigar over and commented. “Learn something new every day, don’t you?”
I agreed. “Especially around here.”
David went on. “I can get a tag for the thing; I just never thought I’d have to. It’s silly.”
“It’s double silly because the blue cowboy runs all over the road in his pickup with farm tags on it.”
He sighed. “It is what it is, I suppose. Charlie, can you take care of that when you go to town in the morning?”
“Sure, Dad.”
Abby shivered again. “It’s cold.”
David unwound his arm from her side and stood up. “It’s time for bed anyway. Lost half the day to the rain. Lots of work for tomorrow.”
The couple wished everyone a good night and went to bed. I drew on the cigar and yawned the smoke out. I drew on it again and passed it back to Walt. “I’m tired too. Charlie and I had a busy day.”
Walt puffed the cigar. “I’ll say you did.” He yawned. “So, did I. I’m glad we did a simple meal tonight.”
Charlie chuckled. Mitch sniggered as well. I got the joke and laughed. Walt was the only one who didn’t get it. “What’s funny?”
I explained. “Love, a simple meal is ham and eggs. You made art.”
Walt defended himself. “It was just beef bourguignon and scalloped potatoes au gratin and roasted root vegetables and fresh bread.”
I continued his oration. “And a green salad and potato soup and cream of mushroom soup and two different types of fruit pie for dessert. You’re working almost as hard as they are.” I said with a nod toward Mitch and Charlie.
He passed the cigar back. “I’m having fun though. It’s a good tired.”
I drew some smoke and savored it. I realized I hadn’t seen much of Mitch since he went to work with his dad. I asked how he’d been. “What’s it like working with your dad every day, young man?”
He animated and threw his arms out wide. “Dad is so busy! We’re on the run all day. I knew he worked hard but I never knew he did as much as he does.”
“Sounds like he needed your help.”
Mitch nodded frantically. “He needs more than just me. We need Char.”
“Hopefully you’ll have him before too much longer. He and I have been stirring the pot pretty hard. We’re going to stir it some more tomorrow. Something should boil out from under the lid soon.”
“I hope so. Dad says we lost time to the rain today, but we were busy as hell even with it. We didn’t do nothin’ outside, but we were in the machine shed helpin’ get the combine ready to harvest the spring wheat.”
“Sounds like there’s always something to do around here.”
He nodded again. “Always.”
Charlie echoed his brother. “Always.” He stubbed his cigarette out and asked Mitch a question. “You need me to do your chores again tomorrow?”
“Naw. I can do my own. Dad said I’d go with him after breakfast.”
Mitch yawned, then Charlie yawned. Mitch stretched his arms over his head. “Fuckin’ tired. I’m goin’ to bed.”
Charlie agreed. “Me too.”
They left us alone.
I offered the cigar to Walt, but he’d had enough. I drew on it one more time and rubbed it out in the tray. Walt blew a breath into the night. “I’m impressed I didn’t have to bail you out of jail today. I can’t believe you allowed Andy to put you out on the road with a storm coming, especially when you had a gun.”
“I can’t get worked up over Andy. Anyone who would bluster and rage and throw his weight around like he did, only to be cowed by his mother and Abby, is barely a man at all.”
“Still…”
“Once upon a time, I would have pounded him into the dirt on general principles. I can’t do it anymore. The more I realize my limitations, the more I appreciate them. I’m learning to be better than I was. I’m learning to accept things as they are. Maybe I’m finally growing up.”
Walt snickered, then laughed. “Took you long enough!”
I laughed with him. We settled and he offered a thoughtful comment. “Maybe that’s what aging is all about, learning to accept what can’t be changed. I’ve had to learn some hard lessons since my attack. Coming here helped a lot. It’s nice to know I’m not useless. I thought my life was over when I had to give up the restaurant. I’m thrilled to find out I was wrong.”
I admitted I’d been worried about the same thing. “My hands were getting so bad I thought I’d have to stop being a host and mope around at home while you kept running the restaurant. Coming here and working this case with Charlie reminded me that I can still be useful even if I can’t carry a menu.”
He put his hand on top of mine on the arm of my chair. “I’m glad we came. I’m glad we’re welcome here. They make us feel like family.”
“Yes, they do.”
Walt struggled out of his chair and offered me a hand up. I accepted because my knees hurt badly from overworking them all day. We went to bed.
To get in touch with the author, send them an email.
