Incident At Elder Creek Page 10

  Leah sighed. “Deal. I guess. Oh, and I should tell you about the character research I’ve done. I’ve found about a dozen interesting Elder Creek personalities with the potential to be entertaining. I’ve only done a little on each of them but if you think it’s what you imagined, I’m willing to do more.”

  “Great. We’ll talk about it after we talk about you.”

  “If we must.”

  “What time shall I come?”

  “How about around nine o’clock? I’ll make something easy so we have plenty of time to search through the newspaper site and I can show you what I’ve got on character studies.”

  “Sounds good,” Tucker said.

  Leah surprised Tucker by leaning over and giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. “See you in the morning,” she said as she opened the door of the truck. “Thank you for dinner. I enjoyed our evening.”

  Tucker watched Leah ascend the porch steps and unlock her front door. She waved, then stepped across the threshold into the light of a small table lamp. She closed the door and Tucker saw the living room light go on for a few minutes. When it went off again, she knew Leah probably made her way to the back of the house.

  She cranked the truck to life and headed for the hotel. Tucker smiled at the thought of seeing Leah in the morning again. At least she hoped she would see her in the morning instead of finding herself back in the Elder Creek of old, with Lily Hart.

  Chapter Six

  TUCKER REALIZED HER worst fear of not making it to Leah’s for breakfast was coming true. Instead, she found herself sitting in The St. Charles Saloon drinking whiskey with an odor akin to sewer gas. The only redeeming quality of it was the fierce burn, which quickly wiped out the awful taste even before she swallowed it.

  A few patrons sat scattered around the dimly lit room. Two older men with long hair and beards, one graying and frizzy, the other black and stringy, sat opposite each other playing some type of dice game and drinking what looked like the same foul excuse for an alcoholic beverage sitting in front of her. When she ordered, Dunbar offered her the whole bottle, for the going price, of course.

  Lily appeared at her elbow and whispered, “If you take the bottle, I’ll be able to join you for the duration.”

  Tucker felt a pleasant tingle wash over her at the suggestion.

  “In that case, I’d be pleased to have your company for the whole night.” She knew she’d never be able to consume the entire contents of the disgusting alcohol. Apparently, The St. Charles Saloon didn’t serve anything but the worst booze in the country.

  As they sat with drinks in their chipped, scratched glasses, Tucker said, “By the way, Lily, have you heard about the coming of the Wild West show?”

  “No, I’ve never heard of it.”

  Her answer made Tucker even more suspicious of the advertisement she’d seen in the Star.

  “How about the Locust Plague out on the plains? Have you heard of it? It’s been in the newspaper.” Lily said she never heard of that either, but then she admitted something that stunned Tucker completely.

  Staring into her glass, Lily spoke softly, “I don’t know how to read.”

  Wow. How could two people be so alike, and yet, be so different? Leah was an avid reader, a researcher, a person who made her living dealing with books and other documents, both paper and electronic, and Lily wasn’t even able to read. Amazing.

  Thinking of Leah brought up her concern about breakfast with her. What would Leah think if she didn’t show up? She didn’t know the answer, but it didn’t matter because it was apparent she didn’t have any control over the situation.

  The sound of Lily’s voice drew Tucker back to the saloon, to the table where she sat with her. As Lily recounted a little of her trip to Hatchet, Tucker felt as if she were standing at the opposite end of a long tunnel, hearing Lily’s lilt transform into a drone, echoing off the shaft walls.

  She’d consumed too much of this loathsome liquor. She should stop drinking. She watched Lily’s mouth moving, but she only registered a buzzing sound. Someone approached their table. He loomed over them, sneering at Tucker. Words traveled from his mouth as if moving through thick, dark goo in slow motion. The letters formed sounds as they slogged through the molasses-like substance. “You need to leave. I don’t want you to ever come back here. If you do, I’ll have you thrown in jail. Do you understand me? Forget about this place. Forget. Forget.”

  She opened her mouth to ask Dunbar what his problem was, but the words stuck in her throat. Her eyelids felt heavy. So heavy.

  She kept hearing his words over and over, surrounded by the buzzing sound.

  Dunbar pushed his face into her personal space. She watched little bits of food, stuck to his mustache, quiver as he spoke. His breath smelled as bad as his liquor. She looked into his eyes, so dark they were almost black, and tasted fear on the back of her tongue.

  “Leave. Forget.”

  The last word echoed for several seconds as if they were standing in a tunnel with a high ceiling looming overhead.

  The buzzing grew louder until it was impossible to ignore. She opened one eye. The sound came from her alarm clock—her digital alarm clock. The one plugged into the electrical outlet. The one she set so she wouldn’t be late for breakfast at Leah’s. She reached over and pounded the thing into silence. Peace and quiet finally surrounded her, but the word forget still ricocheted off the inside surfaces of her mind.

  TUCKER STOPPED BY Jackie’s house before heading to Leah’s. Jackie always got up early, so she knew she’d be out of bed, even on Saturday morning. She found her in her kitchen. “Hey Jackie, thought I’d stop by to see if you’ve found a chance to talk the Curmudg—I mean—the Ackermans?”

  “As a matter of fact, I did talk to Phil and Doris Ackerman. But after we talked for a while, it was apparent they were being recalcitrant because they just don’t like change. They took whatever rumor is floating around town and used it as fodder to dig their heels in because that’s what they do if left to their own devices, but I took care of the situation.”

  “How’d you manage that?”

  “Oh, Phil Ackerman is a pretty easy mark. All you have to do to talk him over to your way of thinking is use a little logic and a healthy dose of sweet talk.”

  “And Mrs. Ackerman?”

  “I don’t think we have to worry about her. I’m not so sure she was set against what we’re doing in the first place, but she just lets Phil carry on because there’s little she can do to change him. When we walked out to get the Twigs out of my car, she just sauntered into the kitchen mumbling about the old coot being so easily influenced by a pretty young thing.” Her grin widened. “I took it as a compliment.”

  “Wait. Twigs? What did root beer have to do with it?”

  Jackie sighed. “You have absolutely no political acumen at all, do you?”

  “Okay, I’ll accept that, but I still need an explanation.”

  “The freshly brewed quart of Twigs was my ace in the hole. I offered it to him free when I saw him start to falter, and he took the bait. He followed me out to the car like a little puppy and held out his meaty hands to eagerly receive the prize. You’d think I was offering him a bag of money. He’s my best buddy now that I’ve given him craft brewed root beer at no charge. I’ve got him wrapped around my little finger.” She held up her pinky and twirled it in a small circle.

  Tucker burst out laughing. “Heard anything about Joe Dawson?” Tucker asked.

  “He’s disappeared. No one knows where he went or when he might be back. I checked his house a couple of times. His truck is gone and everything is buttoned up tight, so I guess he’s gone for a while. If we’re lucky, he’ll stay away long enough not to pose a problem. With him out of the way, the Ackermans on our side, and Leah having clarified she’s not against the mine opening, we can go forward with the plans, and if we’ve made enough progress before he gets back, he won’t be able to do anything to stop us. Not that he could in the first place, incidentally
. He doesn’t have any influence in this town, not really.”

  “I know he doesn’t wield any influence, but it’s always nice to get people on the same side before doing this type of thing. So, do you think we should be concerned about him disappearing? After all, they have that missing woman over in Portero. What if something happened to him?”

  “Nah, I wouldn’t worry. He does this sometimes. He gets a whiff of some great bargains at a flea market or a second-hand store closing and he’s gone for a while. I wouldn’t be too concerned. I think Joe can take care of himself. He’ll probably be back with a truckload of junk he’ll turn around and sell to the antique shops in Portero. He’ll probably be in a great mood if that happens, actually, and it’ll be easier to pull him over to our side then. He’s usually grinning from ear-to-ear for at least a week if he’s made a big haul, especially if he gets paid well for it.

  “Three or four years ago, he left for weeks. When he got back, he told me he’d been all over the state, buying and selling. Said he made enough money to pay his property taxes for the year. It made him a happy man.”

  Tucker latched on to Jackie’s reassurance. She didn’t need something else to worry about. “I haven’t talked to the mayor about the recycling idea yet. I planned to try to see him Monday. Maybe I’ll hold off for a bit, wait until we see Joe’s face and his old beat-up truck back in town before I suggest anything to the mayor. Fortunately, we have time.

  “Right now, we need to focus on what we need to get the mine open. It might take some time to figure out and complete whatever work needs to be done to it before we can add it to the town activities. We also need to get a list of people together who might be interested in leading tours.”

  Tucker stopped, staring at Jackie, waiting. After some seconds passed while they continued to stare at each other, Jackie finally said, “What?”

  “When the executive director speaks, it’s customary for the appointed chairperson to write down the ideas so said chairperson can execute them.”

  Jackie’s expression changed from scowl to glare. “Chairperson?” Jackie blew out her breath and ran her hand through her thick cinnamon colored hair. “Chair-flunky, you mean.”

  Tucker raised an eyebrow. “Ah, but you’re my chair-flunky.”

  They both laughed.

  Tucker added, “Don’t worry about it. We’ll take care of it at the meeting on Monday night. Right now, I need to get going.”

  Jackie glanced at the clock. “Where are you headed so early in the morning, Miss I-Am-Not-A-Morning-Person?”

  Tucker put her hand on the doorknob. “Breakfast.” She gave Jackie a wink. “With Leah.”

  She opened the door and stepped over the threshold, letting it slam behind her.

  TUCKER SAT SHOVELING Leah’s home cooked breakfast into her mouth. Leah watched her, her chin resting in her palm. Tucker stopped, a fork full of bacon and spinach omelet halfway to her lips. She lowered the fork slowly to her plate.

  “I’m being rude, aren’t I?”

  “No, not at all. I’m glad you’re enjoying my cooking.” Leah laughed.

  The sound tickled her insides, her new go-to reaction. She pushed the egg mixture around in her plate.

  “I’m sorry,” Tucker said, not looking up. “Living at the hotel, well, I haven’t eaten a home-cooked meal since I got here. No, wait, I’m lying. Jackie and I did have dinner at her place not too long ago, but she made a salad. Not really what you’d call a home cooked meal. At least not in my opinion.”

  She met Leah’s eyes. They were sparkling, mirthful. “And wine,” Tucker continued. “We drank lots of wine.” Then Tucker laughed, too. She glanced at Leah’s plate. It didn’t look like she was eating. Tucker said so.

  Leah smirked and said, “Well, somebody’s kept me busy talking about myself—one of the conditions of you sharing this meal with me, as I recall.”

  “Oh, yeah, you were telling me about your first day at the Portero school. I’m enjoying your story. Please, go on.”

  “I think you were enjoying your food a little bit more, though.”

  Tucker picked up her fork again and shoveled in a pile of the egg concoction, followed by some potatoes and onions, caramelized to perfection. As she chewed, she waved her fork in a little circle, motioning Leah to continue.

  “Well, the library is well stocked for such a small place. It’s one of the reasons I decided to take the job. I was prepared to do something other than library science if I was forced to, at least for a while, as a way to get out of LA.”

  “It’s that bad down there? I know there’s a lot of traffic, but don’t people kind of Zen out and go with it, accept it as part of life?”

  “The traffic isn’t what made me so desperate to leave.”

  As Tucker scooped another forkful of food, she realized a prickly silence developed. She put her fork down and met Leah’s eyes again. A cold, blue iridescence rippled through a gray color in Leah’s irises, the bright blue replaced with dullness, the color of tempered steel.

  “I was desperate to get away from—”

  Tucker knew from Leah’s tone it was bad. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, Leah. It’s okay.”

  “No, I want to. You should know.”

  Tucker waited. Leah would talk in her own time.

  The tick of an electric clock reverberated around them as Leah looked down at her lap, wringing her hands. Tucker got up from her seat and walked around the table to Leah’s side. She stooped down beside her and took her hands.

  “We can do this another time, if you need to, Leah.”

  “No. I’ll do it now. It’s better if you know.”

  “Okay,” Tucker said slowly. “Do you want to go into the living room? Get more comfortable?”

  “No, Tucker, this is fine. Please, go sit down.”

  Tucker did as Leah asked. Leah pulled herself together and looked into Tucker’s chestnut eyes.

  “I met Kaz shortly after I relocated to LA. I was with friends at one of the lesbian bars in West Hollywood one night—”

  When Tucker raised an eyebrow, Leah shrugged, adding, “I was young.”

  “Anyway, I was there with friends, having a good time, celebrating somebody’s birthday, as I recall. Kaz came over and started talking to me. It was a bit rude because we were obviously there as a group, celebrating, but she started sweet talking me. She was older, in her forties, but she was very beautiful and very sexy. We danced a couple of times. After that, someone invited her to join our group for the evening. I found out later—much later—no one wanted her to stay. They, too, thought she was rude and much too domineering. Anyway, one thing led to another and by the end of the evening, she charmed me out of my phone number.

  “After one date, I knew it was a mistake. She was into some “bad shit” as she termed it and I agreed with her. I don’t know why she thought a sweet, mid-Western girl like me would be attracted to S & M and rough sex, but I told her on our first date I wasn’t interested in any of it. She kept pushing, trying to get me to agree to meet her at this place called The Crypt. The whole thing started to feel extremely creepy.

  “I don’t know how I managed to extricate myself from our date with my dignity intact and without being manipulated into something I wanted no part of, but I did. Fortunately, we met at the restaurant and I brought my own car. I literally shook all the way home.

  “The harassment started soon after. First it was phone calls. Begging. Pleading. Then the tone changed. She became abusive. Threatening.”

  “Oh God,” Tucker said. “I hope you called the police.”

  “I did. They suggested I change my phone number. I did. To an unlisted number. Then, one night, she broke into my apartment. I don’t even know how she learned where I lived. I never gave her my address. No doubt she’d followed me around and I didn’t even know it.”

  Tucker wanted to offer something supportive, but she sensed Leah was on a roll and she shouldn’t stop her. If she did, she might
never get the whole story out, and she knew she needed to talk about it.

  “Fortunately, I wasn’t there when she broke in. I knew it was her when I found the handcuffs on my bed with a note saying, ’You’ll be my prisoner of love soon.’

  “It became difficult to leave my apartment after the break-in. I didn’t know if she would pop out from behind a car one day and kidnap me, take me to some deserted location and keep me there as a hostage or something. You hear about those things happening, you know?”

  One tear escaped from Leah’s eye now. She brushed it away as if annoyed.

  “I barely functioned. The fear ruled my life. It took everything in me to go out to work every day. Otherwise, I stayed home, with everything locked up tight and a chair jammed under the doorknob.”

  Tucker got up and went back to Leah and took her hands again. She felt her trembling.

  “I tried to pull myself together to be able to get out of LA. It took a while. I found a good psychologist. My friends were supportive. I found a new apartment and settled in. Things calmed down. I calmed down, but by then, LA no longer held the excitement it once did for me. It took me a couple of years, but while I worked on getting beyond the trauma of it, I also worked toward finding a more peaceful, slower-paced place to live.” Leah looked up at Tucker and gave her a nervous smile. “Safe,” she murmured.

  Tucker didn’t know what to say. She held Leah’s hands wanting to do more, wishing she could scoop her up in her arms in a comforting embrace, but in light of Leah’s revelation, she thought better of it. Finally, she whispered, “I’m so sorry you were involved in such a terrible experience, Leah. I hope you do feel safe here.”

  Leah freed one hand from Tucker’s hold and wiped more wetness from her cheek. “I do. I knew right from the start I would. This house,” she gestured around the room, “it’s filled with love from you and your mom. It makes me feel so good to live here. It’s been healing. And you’ve been good for me, too.”

  Tucker cocked her head. “Me? What have I done?”