Episode 5
My fingers tense into a fist, and Ernie’s grip on my arm tightens. ‘They’re after you,’ hits close to home, reminds me I need to check my back trail more often. The voices in the dark outside the doorway continue and I listen.
First man. “I thought he’d miss a bundle like this.”
Second man. “Not him. The police. They think you did it.”
A silence. I can feel the stunning blow those words gave somebody, and I wonder who he is. Somehow his voice sounds familiar and I listen harder. But the second voice keeps talking.
“I already took my share. It’s the last you’ll see of me. You best clear out too.”
Wow, a bank robbery. A thrill of excitement and fear makes me shiver.
“How do you know? You didn’t happen to leave anything for them to find, did you?”
That has a threatening edge, but the voice is still familiar. I punch my brain in an effort to remember who I’ve heard in the last few days besides Ernie’s hipsie friends. A live person, not on tv. Not Al. Not the cafe lady. Not the bus driver. Who else?
Second man. “I never leave evidence. If I meant to hang you, would I be warning you?”
“Sorry. I’m just on edge. Helluva way to learn a thing like that.”
“You know they always suspect the husband, John.”
John goes on like he’s telling himself the story. “Jordan must have thought she took the money. He lost his temper and she ended up dead.” His anger spills over into the words. “He’s the bastard who ought to pay. And he will.”
Finally it hits me. In the cafe. Yesterday morning. The Actor. “Turn that up,” he’d said, glued to the tv report on the mystery woman pulled from the well in Hackett. I remember thinking he knew who she was and would call the number on the screen. I must have heard him order breakfast earlier, but paid no attention, my mind being on how to get to Dentonville. My only goal, until I discovered I’d lost my traveling money. Now I have no goal except to stay away from East Wind as long as I can.
The other man says, “You need a good alibi. What will you p–” The pop of a fist hitting flesh, just like when Hoodoo hit Ernie, and a scuffle on the ground outside. “Stop John I didn’t mean–” Another blow. John says, “Keep your damn mouth shut.”
Footsteps walk down the gravel drive. In a minute, a second set follows. A car engine sounds. Then another. Lights flash around as the cars depart, in different directions.
Ernie lets out a long breath, like he’s been holding it. “Inside was safer.” He lights up his watch dial. “Four o’clock.”
“I don’t think I can sleep any more,” I tell him. “Maybe we should walk while it’s cool.” Hunger drives me. I remember the ten dollars the cafe lady gave me and can hardly wait to find a diner or cafe or town.
By dawn we’ve come to the end of the farm road and to a small bit of civilization pretty much like the one we left behind. A neon sign promises breakfast 24 hours and cheap prices. Ernie’s eyes rove over a few cars parked under the streetlights. “Guess they’re long gone.”
“Franny and Hoodoo, or the bank robbers?”
“Those guys didn’t rob a bank. Unless Jordan robbed it first.”
We go inside, sit on stools at the counter. I have a moment of deja-vu before the waitress comes over. But there’s no Actor/John. The only other customers are some blue-collar types, and one single mother with two little kids.
Ernie looks at the menu like he’s never seen one before. He finally orders the ham and cheese omelette and hot tea. I’m surprised they have tea, and that he wants it. I leave off the bacon and coffee. Two fried eggs and a large orange juice, with a side of home fries. She brings enough for an army, so I’m looking at lunch too.
“Omigod,” Ernie says, half standing up.
“What?!” I look everywhere, not knowing who he sees or what to expect.
“We can’t pay for this.”
“Relax. I can.”
He gazes at me like I’ve grown another head.
“And have maybe a couple bucks left over.” I give him a smile, then gulp half the orange juice. He sits down slowly, doubtful, and eats everything on his plate without another comment.
While he’s thinking, so am I. Do I dare risk taking a ‘bird bath’ in the rest room, or should I just wash out my clothes? They’ll dry on me soon enough under the June sun. Losing my toothbrush, toothpaste, and comb in the backpack Hoodoo drove away with means we have to hit a drug store next.
“Let’s see if we can work off the breakfast,” I suggest. “That way, we can spend my money on other stuff.” I need sunglasses and a hat, too, but a couple bucks won’t stretch to cover those luxuries. At least I don’t need the jacket. I’m already sweating.
Ernie looks at me. “How much do you have?”
“Ten dollars.”
He smiles like an indulgent uncle. I can see why Franny called him an ‘old man.’
“What’s funny?”
“You,” he says. Drains his tea. Then, “Work,” he muses softly, like it’s an unusual idea.
The waitress gives us the same look before she says, “Sure. The guy who sweeps is out sick with pink eye, and the window washer quit last week.” She shows us where the cleaners and carpet sweeper are kept, and I hand a pail and squeegee to Ernie. He stands holding them, looking helpless. For a moment it’s like I’m seeing Al, blindly calling his dog, but the flash of fear and resentment comes and goes like summer lightning. “If you want to run the sweeper, I’ll tackle the windows.”
Ernie trades the tools and we work for almost an hour. The breakfast crowd has left and the lunch crowd hasn’t started yet. If you could call the morning customers a crowd. I’m swiping down the last plate glass corner when something outside catches my eye. “Omigod.” I sound like Ernie, only this time the stab of surprise has hit me.
He’s on the other side of the room, trying to pick up biscuit crumbs with a sweeper chock full of trash. I run to him and point to a stocky broad-shouldered man on the pavement. Reading the menu. Bound to come in. “It’s him!”
“Who?”
“John!”
He leans away, makes a skeptical face like he thinks I’m playing a joke on him. “You never saw him. What makes you so sure?”
“I did see him. Not last night. The morning before. In a cafe. The report on the tv shook him up. I heard his voice, and it’s him. What’ll we do?”
Ernie stares through the sparkling clean glass at the man I called Actor, whose voice belongs to John. “You’re right about one thing. He is coming in.”
The door opens and the waitress looks up. From her manner, all business-like, she’s never seen him before. He sits on the end stool, just like in the other eatery, and she offers him the day’s lunch special menu. He ignores it.
“Just coffee. Got any donuts?”
She lifts a dome lid off a pastry tray and sets the tray in front of him. He points to a couple and she uses tongs to lay them on a dessert plate. Goes to get the coffee.
“All done,” Ernie tells her on the way to the back, and she nods. We stow the cleaning stuff and he hurries me through the exit into the alley. Full of food, smelly from cleaners, and without a clue what comes next.
“Shouldn’t we call the police?” It’s all I can do not to dance around like a nervous girl.
“Why? From what we heard, Jordan is the guilty guy.”
“Husbands are almost always the killer.”
“You watch too much television.” Ernie follows the alley, not to the street but to the back parking lot.
Following Ernie, I’m about to mention my disappointment at not getting to wash myself or my clothes, when a parked car knocks me for a loop.
He lets out a low, long whistle of pure appreciation. It’s parked between two large ornamental bushes, off the pavement and on the scraggly grass, like it’s hiding.
Ernie trots over to a pale pink Cadillac that’s older than both of us put together. The bottom panel is black. Chrome so shiny it’s a good thing the sun doesn’t hit it or I’d be blinded without those sunglasses. “Let’s find a drug store,” I say. It’s the first time in my life my teeth haven’t been brushed for three days straight. “And then a thrift store.” If I can’t wash my clothes, I can buy clean second hand jeans and a couple of tee-shirts.
“Take my picture,” Ernie says, leaning against the car and smiling.
“What?”
“Take my picture. Or doesn’t your camera work?”
“It works.” Sliding the camera from my hip pocket, where it kept out of the way while I washed the windows, I hope it does. Ernie’s face is so eager and happy, I snap a couple.
He tries the door. Locked of course. The interior is show room clean. I can tell he yearns to sit behind the wheel. “That waitress can’t afford this antique.”
He shakes his head. “No. It belongs to John.”
Terror rips through me. The car is hiding, all right. Just like it was in the back lot of the Morningbird Hotel the night of the storm, when I woke and fled from that ghostly, inhuman wailing. Was it a grief so deep I’d never felt anything like it, or an anger so violent that I dreaded imagining its source?
Grabbing Ernie’s arm, I pull him along. We race over the curb and across the grass to the next street. He doesn’t ask me what’s wrong. I guess he can figure that out.
Luck on my side, there’s a drug store. We go in and I load a small plastic basket with the stuff I need. He stands with his hands braced on his hipbones, staring back towards the diner, seeing that Caddy only in his dreams.
When we’re back on the sidewalk, my disguise hat and dark glasses in place, I glance about for a secondhand shop that doesn’t have all dresses displayed in the window. Two blocks over, we find one. I buy a duffel bag for fifty cents, and pack two dollars’ worth of traveling clothes inside. Ernie’s content to travel in his expensive duds even if they are starting to smell. I pick up a used deodorant for a dime and toss it to him. “Thanks,” he says.
Using my last dollar, I pick out a nice striped shirt and a pair of jeans that I think will fit him. Stuff them into my duffel bag. He’ll be glad to wear them before long.
“What next, boss?” I ask, feeling light as air and ready for anything.
“You’re not tired of all this? Don’t want to go home?”
“Do you?” Wherever his home is, it’s probably a nice brick with a big yard and maybe a white fence to keep out neighbor dogs. But he’s on a mission, and I’m curious about how he plans to carry it out. Chasing Hoodoo and Franny is okay but catching them seems as unlikely as stealing John’s car and taking a joy ride.
He sits down on a shaded bench in front of the thrift store. “You forgot the take out carton with the leftover fries.”
Yeah, I did.
“We could go back, see if she’s thrown them out.”
“I’m not going back there.”
“He’s probably finished eating and is on his way to Canada.”
“Sure he is. If that’s where Jordan went. You heard him. He’s gonna make Jordan pay. Maybe he did kill her, and wants to pin the murder on Jordan.”
“And maybe he’s just out for revenge.” Ernie shifts restlessly on the bench. His teeth are too clean for him to be a smoker, but I bet he’d like to have a pack and lighter right now, something to distract his thoughts and calm his nerves.
“Root beer does it for me,” I say.
“What?”
“Distracts my thoughts and calms my nerves.”
Ernie laughs shortly. “You’re a funny kid.”
When we walk back to the parking lot, the Caddy is gone. Tire tracks lead into the grove of trees behind the diner and out on a side street. Ernie heaves a sigh. “At least I’ll have a picture.”
Ernie uses the cafe phone to cancel the credit card. I ask the waitress about the fries. She takes a little white bag out of a cooler. Tosses in a couple of cans of cola. I almost ask for root beer instead but thank her and carry my duffel bag out to where Ernie’s sitting on another bench, watching squirrels in the trees across the street. We share the fries, washing them down with the drinks. “You haven’t asked me a single question.”
“Yes I did. I asked if you wanted some grape juice. Then I asked why you can’t go home. If you have a deadline. And if you’re happy. You said you were. Past tense. And when I asked what happened, you didn’t answer. But I can see that you are. The rest doesn’t matter.”
“Phenomenal.” I’m impressed that he remembers all this. I hadn’t realized I was being questioned, or that I’d answered. “You’re one sharp dude.”
This time he laughs so hard he loses his breath. “Then what the hell am I doing out here?”
“You’re on a mission. You want to save Francine from Hoodoo. And I’m here to help you.”
“Some missions fail, no matter who helps.”
I gather up our trash and stuff it into a bin. Feel guilty that the aluminum cans should be recycled. I wonder where we’ll spend tonight, and what we’ll do with the hours in between, besides work for food and use public rest rooms. If I hadn’t spent all my money, we could find a Laundromat and have a clean change for later. If I were at East Wind, I’d be in the library, draped in my favorite wing chair, reading the end of that bookshop mystery. In warm weather, tall windows are open to let in cool breezes that carry whiffs from the cafeteria, hinting of lunch. If….
“They’re here!”
Ernie’s excitement startles me, but not as much as his hands roughly pushing me around the corner of the building. “Who?”
He flattens himself against the bricks, one arm shielding me beside him like a mama protecting her kid, and I freak. Collins has somehow managed to trail me and the cops are coming with billy sticks and handcuffs.
Some missions fail. The humiliation of being that failure propels me down the alley. Ernie races after and catches me by the wrist. “What’re you doing? I don’t want to lose them again.”
He drags me back toward the street, where the SUV has stopped for a red light.
TO BE CONTINUED!