when he’s getting gas or buying a loaf of bread. You could make some calls when we get back to the cabin,” I said, pouring some sugar from the glass dispenser into my cup.
Dad nodded, looking down into his porcelain mug.
“And I have a friend I might call,” I said. “He’s had a bit more experience with these kinds of things than I have.”
Dad looked over at me. “A lawyer?”
“No,” I said. “An ex-cop. He works for himself now. Name’s Lawrence Jones. He sort of owes me one. I’ll call him when we get back.”
The door jingled and in walked the law. Orville Thorne took off his hat, set it on the counter, and took the stool next to Dad, even though the one next to me was empty as well.
“I saw your truck outside, Arlen,” Orville said, not even bothering with a nod in my direction. I felt an overwhelming urge to give him a nipple-twister. “Wanted to tell you I’ve got a couple folks together to hunt down that bear. Probably be tomorrow I should think, we’ll get started first thing in the morning.”
I shook my head, took a sip of coffee.
“What’s the matter with him?” Orville asked Dad.
Lana appeared, leaned over the counter and gave her nephew a kiss on the forehead. “Hey, sweetie. Usual?”
“Sure, Aunt Lana.”
She poured him a cup of coffee, black, then placed a chocolate dip doughnut on a plate for him. Orville took a big bite, washed it down with the hot coffee. His mouth still full, he said to me, “So what’s your problem?”
“He remains skeptical,” Dad cut in. “About there being a bear. That it might be those pit bulls instead.”
“That again?” Orville said, unaware that a huge doughnut crumb was hanging on to the corner of his mouth, undermining his authority.
Dad shrugged. “Well, Orville, he does raise an interesting point. Where’s the rifle? If Morton went out to kill this bear, then where’s the rifle?”
I leaned forward and turned so that I could see Orville’s response. I was surprised to see that he was smiling.
“It’s in my car,” he said.
“What?” I said.
“Timmy Wickens dropped by the station half an hour ago and gave it to me. Said I’d probably want it for the investigation.”
“Way to go, Dad,” I said. “So, Orville, you’re saying he came in, this morning, and gave you the rifle?”
“Yeah, Mr. Smartypants,” Orville said. “He did.”
“Mr. Smartypants,” I said, nodding as though impressed. “Is that part of the police training up here? They give you a list of snappy comebacks? What about Mr. Poo-Head? You should try that one. Leaves people speechless.”
“You just remember who you’re talking to,” Orville said. “And I could still have you charged with assaulting me, don’t forget that.”
“Jesus, I didn’t assault you, I fell on you. Right after you tripped my dad and fucked up his ankle. After we found out he was alive, which you should have been able to figure out before he actually showed up.” I leaned in, whispered, “Had it ever occurred to you to give your aunt a call and see if maybe he was with her?”
“Jesus!” Dad said under his breath. “Do you mind? We’re in her cafe, for crying out loud.”
“I
We both looked at Dad. He sat silently for a moment, feeling both sets of eyes. He muttered something.
“What?” I said.
“Actually, we went to a motel, after she’d been out to the cabin for a bit, after everyone went home,” Dad said. “And then she took the morning off from the cafe, let the girls handle it.” He nodded his head toward the waitresses.
“A motel?” Orville said. He looked shocked. “Why are you and my aunt going to a motel?”
Dad rolled his eyes. “Look, Orville, we just wanted some time alone without interruptions, that’s all. You know your aunt loves you and loves to have you drop by, but sometimes, it’s just…”
Orville looked like he’d just found out there’s no Easter Bunny. His aunt and my dad, messing around in a motel. How incredibly sordid. And on top of that, learning he might not be totally welcome to drop by her place whenever he wanted because she and Dad wanted to get it on.
It was a lot to take.
“Look,” I said, “could we move this back to the rifle?”
“What about the rifle?” Orville said.
“What did Timmy Wickens tell you about the gun?”
“He said he found it only a few feet away from where we found Morton’s body, under some bushes. I guess we just missed it.”
“Shit,” I said.
Dad looked into his coffee. “Sorry,” he said.
“You tipped him off,” I said. “I could have guessed Wickens would produce a gun, but I never expected it to happen this quickly. Don’t you see? The fact that he came up with a gun so fast just proves that Morton never went hunting with it in the first place.”
Dad and Orville looked at me like I was speaking in some other language. “So let me see if I get this,” Orville said. “Timmy finds Morton’s rifle, which proves Morton didn’t have a rifle. Is that what you’re saying? You know what? You know what? Maybe, instead of a bear, Morton Dewart was killed by aliens.” Orville snickered, slapped his hand on the counter. To Dad, he said, “He writes science fiction books, right? Didn’t you say that?”
“Orville,” I said, “I’ll say this really slowly so there’ll be less chance that you’ll misunderstand.” Dad shot me a look. “What’s it to Timmy Wickens whether we have Morton’s rifle or not? If Morton was killed by a bear, well, he was killed by a bear. But if he wasn’t, but it’s in Timmy’s interest for us to think he was, then Timmy’s going to be doing whatever he can to make sure you don’t start considering any other theories.”
Orville looked me in the eye for a good three seconds, then did, I have to say, a pretty good impression of the sound a flying saucer might make, coming in for a landing. “Voo-ooo-ooo,” he said, making his hand flat and gliding it toward the counter. Then, he walked two fingers toward Dad’s coffee mug and, in a nasal voice, said, “Take me to your leader.”
I chuckled, took another drink of my coffee. “Okay, Orville, I got nothin’. You’re too clever for me. And besides, I guess I’d believe anything Timmy said, too, if I thought it meant he wouldn’t take my hat again.”
Now Orville had murder in his eyes, and he was lunging in front of Dad, knocking over his coffee and the sugar dispenser, which plunged to the floor with a great crash on the waitress’s side. “You take that back,” he said, attempting to grab hold of the front of my jacket, but I had leaned back, and as Orville tried to get me, he pushed Dad back and off his stool.
“Oh fuck!” said Dad, unable to swing around and save himself because of his one weak leg. As he began to plummet toward the floor Orville and I both jumped to catch him, getting our arms under his back before he hit the cracked linoleum.
“You two just knock it off!” Dad bellowed, and both of us felt chastened, catching the look of shame in each other’s eyes for a second before lifting Dad back onto his stool. Lana was running over from the cash register.
“Good God, what have you fools done to him?” she said. “Arlen, are you okay?”
He grumbled something.
Lana noticed the spilled sugar, the knocked-over coffee cup, and peered over to the other side of the counter. “And who do you boys think is going to clean up this mess?” she asked me and Orville.
Orville and I craned our necks over to inspect the damage. The dispenser had shattered, spreading sugar everywhere.
“He did it,” I said, pointing my thumb toward Orville.
“You started it!” he said.
“For the love of Pete,” Dad said.
