13

“SO, WHERE DOES THAT LEAVE US?” I said, sitting at the counter next to Dad in the coffee shop owned by Dad’s main squeeze, Lana Gantry. We were still reeling from our meeting with Bert Trench as we hauled our butts up onto the stools.

“Hey, boys,” said Lana, her elbows on the counter, leaning in intimately toward us. As she leaned, I could see Dad trying not to be obvious about peeking down her blouse.

“Hi, honey,” Dad said.

“Lana,” I said, smiling.

“How’s your ankle, sweetie?” Lana asked Dad. He turned red, being called “sweetie” in front of his son.

“It’s okay,” he said quietly.

“If I didn’t have this place to run, I’d come out there and stay with you till you get better.” She smiled. “I could give you everything you need.”

Dad kept blushing, swallowed, and said, “You know Bert Trench?”

“Yeah, sure, he has lunch in here all the time.”

“Does he strike you as an attractive man?”

Lana smiled again. “All those hot wives he’s had, that what this is about?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, from what I hear, what he lacks in the looks department he makes up for in technique.”

My eyebrows went up.

“And when he gets tired of one, he unloads her and gets another, and rocks her world, too. They don’t even mind it that much when he wants a divorce, they’re so exhausted. Don’t you worry, though,” Lana Gantry said, patting Dad’s hand. “I won’t let him lure me away from you.”

“Um, Lana, I wonder if you could get me and my boy some coffees.”

I looked beyond Lana at what was behind the glass. “I wouldn’t mind a piece of coconut cream pie, too, if that’s what I see there,” I said. Lana was back with coffees in a moment, a couple of creams tucked into my saucer, Dad’s black, and then she went for my pie.

“This looks fantastic,” I said as she placed it in front of me. I put a forkful into my mouth. It was heaven.

“You boys need anything you give me a shout,” Lana said, and headed over to the cash register to confer with one of the two waitresses working the room.

“Maybe there’s other lawyers with some nuggets in their shorts who’d be willing to take this on,” Dad said.

“Try some from some other towns, but not Red Lake,” I said. “Someone who’s not likely to run into Timmy 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 café, for crying out loud.”

“I did do that,” Orville whispered back. “There was no answer, and Aunt Lana wasn’t at the café either.”

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 café, 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.”