Amateur Hour

Guy

It was almost all he could do, to focus on his tutoring session with Franklin. The jock was as bright as a forty-watt bulb, and Guy was in a fever of impatience to retire to his room, for the night. He’d brought this on himself, though.

Mrs. Winslett, the Biology teacher, had been tasked with substituting for Mr. Billie, today. It had seemed like the perfect opportunity to get himself sent to the Dean’s office, for a chance to peek at a file, or two.

All of the stars had been aligned. The secretary would have been on her lunch break, and Starkey would have been oblivious to his presence in the outer office.

Guy had figured he could rip off the files, drop them down the back of his blazer covered shirt, and photograph them, at leisure, that evening. Returning them would require another stunt, but he’d come up with something, he thought.

It had been easy to bait the teacher, using Franklin as the butt of the joke, but it had backfired. Now, he found himself struggling to explain Orwell to the fool, because he was, to quote Mrs. Winslett, “so smart”.

“I don’t get it,” Franklin was saying. “How can anyone really hold two thoughts in their mind, about the same thing, at the same time? You’d go nuts.”

“’Zactly. It’s not possible. One thought is always going to feel like a lie, if you’re sane and honest.”

“So, Smith is the sane one.”

“Yeah. You have to decide, then, is the Party crazy?”

To his surprise, Franklin actually chewed on the question, for a moment.

“No… It’s evil.”

“You sure about that?”

“Am I wrong?” He looked anxious, and Guy felt sorry for him.

“It’s a book, dude. No one’s going to arrest you, for having an opinion. Besides, if you’re afraid to think for yourself, you might as well be a member of the Party. That’s safe, but is it good?”

“No.” This answer was firm. “But I have to say why I think it’s evil, in an essay.”

“Write the essay. Do the best you can, and I’ll read it over. I’ll help, where I can, but it has to come from you.”

Franklin looked cowed, by the concept.

“Look — you’re on the right track. Don’t be afraid to let new ideas in. Tough guy like you, can handle ‘em, am I right?”

Franklin scowled, and for a second, Guy was sure he was going to be clobbered.

“I suppose so,” the boy mused. “I’ve always been told not to think, just to do, you know? And what to do, besides.”

“Gotta warn you — you won’t be comfortable with that, if you decide to do your own thinking, man.”

Franklin nodded. “No, I don’t think I will. Be comfortable, that is. Can we call it a day?”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks, Ramirez. I mean it.”

“Welcome. You’ve got this.”

*******

Steph answered, on the second ring.

“Is that you?” she asked, in lieu of a ‘hello’.

“What’s goin’ on, Steve?”

“Don’t call me that.”

He could hear the smile in her voice.

“Can’t call you ‘Schoolgirl’, anymore,” he pointed out.

“It’s good to hear your voice.”

“Goin’ soft on me? It’s good to hear yours, too. I knew you got away, when Julio called, demanding to know where you were.”

“Christina said you called her, last night. Why didn’t you call me, then, when she gave you my number? And, how did you get a phone?”

“I didn’t call you, because it was after midnight, and I know you turn into a gremlin, by eleven.”

“I do not.”

“You do. As for the phone, Mr. Miles gave it to me.” He explained the circumstances, in detail.

“That’s a lot to unpack. No idea who the client is, still?”

“I thought Mr. Miles, himself, until this morning.”

“What happened, this morning?”

“Nothing, except Mr. Billie didn’t show up. The guy has nearly perfect attendance. Everyone was whispering about that, and I picked up a rumor that something has happened to his wife.”

“First, Mrs. Miles, then Mrs. Billie.”

“Yeah. Targets always get closer to home, never farther away.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Steal files, like I was asked to do. Get pictures; put them back. Putting them back is gonna be the hard part. I was almost able to get them, today, but I didn’t count on Mr. Billie’s substitute being soft.” He told her that tale, as well. “Glad someone thinks it’s funny,” he added, hearing her mirth, in his ear. In truth, he didn’t mind it much. It had been a while since he’d heard her laugh.

“Sorry. It’s just hilarious that all that aptitude testing didn’t reveal your talent for teaching.”

“I fudged some answers; you know that. I didn’t get my due as a mechanic, either.”

“True. I can’t wait for a chance to drive that sweet Mustang.”

“If I don’t survive this assignment, I’ll leave it to you.”

“Not funny, vato.”

“C’mon, Steve — It was joke. Like the associate they’re sending in, as my temporary partner.”

“Who would that be? After Julio swearing he wouldn’t replace me?”

“He’s not replacing you. He’s putting eyes on me. You remember that little Kayla chick? The blonde, with the big owly eyes?”

“You’re so screwed,” she laughed.

“I know. She reminds me of that kid Foghorn Leghorn is trying to outsmart, in the cartoon. The one with the slide rule.”

“I don’t know if I ever saw that one. I never will get your obsession with those old cartoons.”

“Tell you what — you can drive my Mustang, for a whole week, if you’ll watch a weekend’s worth of Looney Tunes, with me. It’ll transform your life.”

“Deal. I’ll even make the popcorn.”

“No — it has to be sugary cereal. Preferably out of the box.”

“Revolting.”

Guy affected a heavy sigh. “Okay… You can have popcorn. More cereal, for me,” he relented. “Bring Galen. He’ll love it.”

“We’ll see.”

Was there just the tiniest change in her voice? A little shift toward wariness? He thought there was. Well, he couldn’t blame her for that, he supposed.

“In the meantime, where are you, and what have you been up to?”

“I’m in Cottonwood, Alabama. Got a job in a cafe, where they pay cash, and don’t ask questions. Got a room, where they take cash, and don’t ask questions.”

“You work fast,” he observed. “But, why? Christina gave you the ATM card. You could go to ground in a motel, and be comfortable, indefinitely.”

“No, I can’t. I won’t live off your money, any longer than I have to. You’re rolling your eyes, aren’t you?” she asked, after a pause.

“I just got a good look at my cerebellum. Look, I’ll double whatever they’re paying you, at the cafe, if you’ll work for me.”

“Doing what? You got clients beating down your imaginary doors already, vato?”

“No, and that’s just it. The doors are imaginary. I’ll pay you to do some research into the market, in the tri-state area, and scout possible locations for our offices.”

“Come on, Guy. It’s a nice dream, but…”

“It has to start somewhere. Will it hurt anything, to look? Neither one of us is staying with Serrano, and you know it. Who’s going to hire us, to do what we do, when he’s finished with us? No employers — only clients. We start very small. An office, two desks, and a phone. We grow, from there.”

Steph didn’t say anything. She was thinking, he knew, so he let her.

“It’s a risk, Guy. What do we know, about running a business?”

“Is there anything wrong with the plan I just laid out?”

“Probably.”

“Sit down with some paper, and start poking holes, then. We need to know where the weak spots are. Just remember, you’re not waitress material, Steve. You’re too sarcastic, and before long, you’ll be behind the grill, cooking your own orders, because they won’t be made to suit you, otherwise.”

“You’re an ass.”

“Which makes me unemployable, in ordinary jobs, too.”

“You could be a teacher,” she teased.

“Spare me. Even more, spare the kids. Think it over.”

“I’m not sure I want to work for you, Guy.”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake. It’s only temporary. When this job is done, you’ll be working for us, and so will I. I’d be your client, until then. I want you to gather information, and maybe make some arrangements. In fact, I’m buying into your business.”

“Impressive gymnastics, Guy,” she laughed. “All right. I can look around.”

“Thank you! I’d better get some beauty sleep, now. Files to steal, partners to distract, that kind of stuff, tomorrow. Call you tomorrow night?”

“Talk to you, then.”

*******

Steph

She regarded the phone with a combination of chagrin and amusement, when the call ended. Nothing had changed, between them, as she had half feared it would have. The conversation could just as easily have taken place in one of their meeting spots, for all the difference in its content and character.

It was comforting. Steph set the phone down, and gazed around the drab studio ‘cabin’ she had rented, just this morning. The walls were paneled in a medium brown, throughout, except for the bathroom, which boasted cold white tile on the floor, and halfway up the wall.

The ‘kitchenette’ contained a mini fridge, a microwave, and a two burner counter top stove, with a built in oven. The dishes were furnished, and some cookware, along with utensils for four (though the table would only seat two).

It was clean, but cheerless. Steph reminded herself that it was also temporary. It was all she needed, for the present. Tomorrow, she would have to hit the nearest thrift store, for some clothes.
Even if Mom sent some of her own, Fed-ex, they would take a few days to arrive, coming via Christina. She didn’t feel like doing laundry every day, until they did.

She needed a laptop, too. Did she dare use her own cards, to buy one? No, she decided. Better to have Mom send hers, from home. In the meantime, she might be able to pick up something used and cheap, from a pawnshop. She could use the motel’s WiFi.

Transportation was an issue that made her head ache. For that, she would need a computer, to access online used cars, listed by private owners.

By the time she saw Guy again, she would have run up quite a bill. It had been good to hear his voice, though.

**************

Ted

It had been the longest and darkest of nights. Ted was glad it was finally over, though he was reluctant to release the pillow he held tightly in his arms. The scent of Nina’s shampoo both gave him comfort, and made him want to cry like a newborn.

He felt like a newborn. Raw, chilled, confused, and disconnected from the one thing in his life that had sustained him. Just like a newborn, too, he hadn’t realized how much he had depended on that sustenance.

“She’s missing, not dead, dumbass,” he told himself. “Get up, and find her.”

He gave the pillow a parting hug, put it back, where it belonged, and rolled out of bed. He thought he smelled coffee, and raced out into the kitchen, still clad in yesterday’s clothes.

The coffee hadn’t been his imagination. The pot was gurgling its last, but it was Hannah, who had made it. Ted tried to wipe the disappointed look off his face.

His mother was frail, but she was capable of standing, for short periods of time, and even shuffling a few steps. The effort cost her, however, and she was back in her wheelchair, again.

“I know,” she said, taking in his expression, before he could hide it. “But I thought you’d need some coffee.”

“I’m sorry, Chatske. I just hoped…”

“I know,” she repeated. “It’s all right. I would have felt the same, if you had gotten up, first.”

Ted noticed that, unlike him, Hannah had managed to change her clothes. But, how on earth were they going to manage, when she needed a bath? He was going to have to bring someone in, to look after her, until Nina got home, he realized, as he poured out two cups.

“Did you get any rest, last night?” he asked her, setting hers on the table.

“As much as you did, from the looks of it. What will you do, today?”

“First, I have to see about getting someone in, to help you out.”

“Maybe Janice can come back, for the day. I’d rather not have a stranger, and I don’t need a professional nurse. One of your cousins can come up and stay, after that.”

“I’ll call Aunt Jo, and ask. But, they may not be available.”

“Just ask. If they aren’t, I’m not going to be quarrelsome. I know you have to look for her, even if half the state is looking, too. Speaking of which, I’m sure your detectives handle missing persons.”

“I called, last night, and left a voicemail. It was thirty minutes before they should have closed, for the day.”

“When do they open, today?”

“Nine-thirty. You think Aunt Jo is up, yet?”

“I’m sure she’s been up, since dawn. She was always an early riser. Best you let me call, though. You know how she talks and talks.”

Ted knew. This was fine, when you wanted to catch up on everything that everyone on the whole rez was doing. If you had things to do, not so much.

“I’ll make us something to eat, then,” he volunteered.

“That should be interesting,” Hannah quipped. “I’ll call her, from the living room, so you can hear yourself think.”

Ted grunted. Aunt Jo wasn’t deaf, but some of her friends were. She tended to speak, these days, as if everyone was.

He had time to fry bacon, ruin one skillet full of scrambled eggs, and start another, listening to Jo, at peak volume, before Hannah reappeared.

“Sissy is coming,” she said, taking the phone from her lap, and placing it on the table.

“So I heard.”

“Stir your grits, before they scorch,” Hannah advised, ignoring him.

“Isn’t Sissy a little young?” he asked, hastening to give the grits a stir, before removing them from the burner, altogether.

“She’s two years younger than Nina, and strapping, to boot. She’ll be more than capable of looking after me. That’ll be one worry off your mind.”

Ted just nodded, and began to put food on the plates. He wasn’t really hungry. The night before had left him with heartburn, as well as heartache.

“That looks pretty good,” Hannah said, when he placed her plate of slightly overcooked eggs in front of her.

“I may have forgotten to salt that batch.”

His mother tasted a bite, and reached for the salt shaker.

“No big deal.” She eyed Ted, while he dug into the pocket of his wrinkled slacks, and produced a roll of antacids. “Preemptive strike?”

“I woke up with reflux. Or, got up, with it. Didn’t sleep much. I do mean to go look for her, but I don’t know where.”

“It’s hard to know, when you know she didn’t just drive off, on her own.”

Ted started to reply, but was cut off, by the ringing of his cell.

“Hope that’s your detectives,” Hannah remarked. Ted glanced at the clock on the oven. It was only 8:37. He hurried to the counter, and picked up the phone, some intuition warning him not to put it on speaker. It was the Sheriff’s Department.

He left the room, to talk to them.

*******

Janice

Janice arrived to find a very solemn Ted, and a Hannah who looked like she would shatter, at a mere word. She was, herself, too shocked to say much.

“Ted,” she began, in a whisper. “Did they say —“

Ted shook his head. “They’re not even sure it’s her car. It’s a car, and it matches the color, from what they can see, of the trunk. It’s in one of the backwaters of the river. I have to be there, when they pull it out.”

“They said that? That you have to be —“

“No, Janice. I have to be there. I have to see, for myself.”

She swallowed, hard. “Oh, Ted…”

“I’ll call you, the minute I know anything.”

“But, Hannah —“

“Janice?” Hannah called from across the room.

“Yes, Hannah?”

“Get yourself some coffee, dear. And, there’s a deck of cards in the junk drawer, second to the right of the stove. We can have a hand or two of rummy, while we wait to hear from Ted.”

Ted gave her a nod, and a strained little smile. He opened the door, and stepped out, into the muggy air.

Janice wheeled the old lady to the dining table, and hastily cleared away the uneaten breakfast, before securing the coffee, and the cards, to bring back to the table.

“Do you need more coffee?” she asked Hannah.

“Please. I didn’t realize I had drunk so much. Must have done it, while Ted was on the phone.”

“Hannah, I’m so sorry.”

“We don’t know anything yet, dear. I doubt Nina drove herself into a swamp, and I can’t see any reason anyone would do that to her. As warnings go, that’s pretty harsh, don’t you think? Don’t lose hope. Now, do you know gin rummy?”

“I know how to lose, at it,” she smiled.

“My kind of opponent,” Hannah grinned.

Janice could see that she was rallying, but she still looked fragile, emotionally.

*******

Ted

By the time Ted arrived on the scene, the car had been attached to a cable, and the winch was beginning to draw it slowly from the tannin browned water, with duckweed swirling to either side, as it emerged.

He pushed aside a deputy, who tried to restrain him, for a closer look, and felt his heart sink to the soles of his feet, when the broken rear bumper became visible. It was Nina’s car.

The bumper stickers would have given it away, even if he hadn’t known the plate number, as well as he knew his own. One announced that her other car was a canoe. The other suggested that this car was ‘powered by frybread’.

Ted began to hyperventilate, as, foot by tedious foot, the car was pulled out onto the riverbank. A swarm of deputies descended on the vehicle, calling to one another; shaking their heads.

His knees felt weak, with relief, until he realized that, though there was no one in the driver’s seat, that didn’t rule out the trunk. The rear end of the car had been damaged, by a heavy impact, and the trunk would never open, as it was designed to do.

It seemed to take an eternity, for several men with pry bars to force the trunk lid open. One of them turned directly to face the deputy who had taken a tight grip on his right arm.

“Empty!” he called.

Ted sank to the ground.

“Sir? Are you all right?” The hand that had gripped his arm, painfully, was now comforting.

Ted nodded, still staring at the decaying leaves that layered the bank.

“I just need a minute,” he managed, in a hoarse voice.

“Could you use some water?”

“Please,” he nodded again.

While he went to get it, Ted pulled out his phone, and called home.

Hannah answered, before the second ring.

“Ted? Is it — ?”

“Go ahead and put me on speaker, Chatske, if I’m not, already.”

“You are, you are. Tell us!”

“It is her car, but she’s not in it. Not in the car, not in the trunk.”

“What does it mean?”

“It means she didn’t drown in her car, Mother. Beyond that, I don’t know.” He heard the asperity in his own voice, and immediately regretted it.

“Of course you don’t. I’m sorry, son.”

“No, I am. I know you love her like she’s your own. All I can see, from here, is that the car was rear-ended. It was hit hard — they had to use brute force, to get the trunk open. I don’t know if she lost control of it, or if she was ever in it, to begin with. It’s miles from the house. It doesn’t make any sense. I’m going to try to find out more, but I wanted to let you know.”

“Thanks, Ted,” Janice finally spoke. “Take your time, with the deputies. And, Ted? You might want to try to get some pictures.”

“For my insurance company?” he quipped, dryly.

“No. For your private investigators.”

“Ouch. I’m sorry, Janice. That is a good idea.”

“I have them, now and then.” She sounded tired, and he realized that she probably hadn’t had a good night, either.

“You do. I’m sorry — I have to go. The deputy is coming back.”

He hung up, without saying goodbye, hoping both women would forgive his abruptness.

“Feeling any better, sir?”

“Much, thanks.” Ted got to his feet, and accepted the proffered bottle of water, with a nod of thanks.

“Think you’re up for a few questions?”

“Anything I can do, to help bring my wife home.”

“Great. We can talk in my cruiser, if you like. It’s getting warm, out here.”

Ted followed the deputy to his car, keeping a weather eye on the activity of the others. He hoped he could answer the questions before the crime scene tape came out. If, in fact, it would.

“What can I tell you?” Ted asked, when the deputy was settled behind the wheel, with his clipboard.

“I really have only a couple of questions. Did your wife routinely carry a knife? The seatbelt was cut,” he explained.

“No, but she did have one of those tools, in the glove compartment. A little orange glass breaker, and blades to cut a seatbelt.”

“I know the kind,” the deputy nodded. “The glove box is open, but nothing was found, on the floorboard. She could have dropped it, in the water, or even carried it, with her. She could swim?”

“Very well. She nearly drowned, once, as a child. She learned how to swim, like a duck, because of it. Can I ask, was the car window down, or was it broken?”

“Broken, we’re pretty sure. There’s some glass, in the floorboard. It looks like she did everything right. Cut herself free, broke the glass, waited for the pressure to equalize, then opened the door.”

“So, where is she?” it was a rhetorical question, and the cop took it as such.

“It’s possible that shock set in, once she was safe, and she simply wandered off. It happens. We’re going to drag the bottom of the backwater, of course, but, if she could swim… We’re also going to get search and rescue out here, to comb the woods.”

“I want to get some pictures, of the car.”

The deputy frowned. “It’s your car, but this is private property. I doubt the owner would have a problem with it, and I understand that it might take time to get ahold of him. So, I’ll tell you what: go ahead and take them. If anyone says anything about it, I’ll have to tell you to quit, though.”

“That’s more than fair. I’ll stay out of the way, and be discreet.”

“Sounds good. Oh, and I’d appreciate copies.”

“Absolutely.”

The deputy reached into his console, and pulled out a card wallet. “This has my email address, on it. You can send the photos there, if you would,” he said, presenting Ted with a card.