His remark caught me off guard. I hadn’t heard a response like that since grade school. We lost eye contact when I saw movement in his kitchen. “Someone hit me over the head and pepper sprayed my dog yesterday,” I said, looking past him into the house. “Someone driving a beat-up Toyota like yours.”

His lip uncurled into a slight smile. “I traded that piece of junk off last week,” he said, nodding in the direction of his driveway. A late model SUV was parked in a detached garage at the back of his lot.

“What happen? You lose a muffler on Mosquito Pass?”

His smirk disappeared faster than my last paycheck. “You’re a real smartass, aren’t you?” he said, and shut the door in my face.

If not for Fred yelping when I pulled too tightly on his collar, I might have kicked in Craig’s door. I hadn’t been this upset since Junior High when the class bully pulled down my gym shorts in front of a cute cheerleader. Fred left my side when I let him go, and ran back toward the Jeep. I quickly followed him for fear he might run into the street.

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you, Freddie?” He was sitting on his haunches next to my Jeep when I caught up to him.

He didn’t answer, of course, but he did smile as we drove away.

***

I called Paul Wilson as soon as we got home. It was a call I should have made sooner, but I had been too mad to think clearly. Now that I realized it probably wasn’t Craig’s Toyota I had seen on the pass, I needed to face up to the fact that I’d have to give Wilson his money back. He seemed to be one of those people who never answer, so I left a message to call me back, and went to bed.

I couldn’t sleep, thinking of the incident on the pass while watching the minutes flip by on my alarm clock like the scores of a baseball game in an old movie. The clock was a relic from the seventies, the kind where the numbers were printed on four mechanical wheels that turned when the time changed. If it wasn’t Craig’s Toyota I had seen, then who was it that stole the backpack, and why? Why did they wait for me to retrieve it instead of going after it themselves? All four wheels where turning to display the number ten when Wilson returned my call.

“You’re telling me you found the backpack, and then someone hit you over the head, and nearly broke your arm taking it from you?” He sounded very upset, so I expected he’d want his money back.

“Right after pepper spraying my dog.”

“Pepper spray?”

“I think so. I’ve been doing some research while waiting for your call, and it seems anyone can buy that stuff.”

“Is he okay?”

“Yeah, he’s okay now. I gave him a good bath when we got home, but I doubt if he’ll ever eat scrambled eggs with hot sauce again.”

I cleared my throat before asking the next question. “How well do you know Craig Renfield?”

“Not at all, why?”

“I thought I saw his car up there just before I was knocked out. He says he traded it off last week, but I only have his word for that, so he’s still my number one suspect. What I can’t fathom is why he wanted the backpack so badly, and for that matter, how he knew it was there.”

Wilson didn’t answer. I was beginning to think he didn’t realize I had asked a question and was ready to speak again when he beat me to it. “Well, I did tell him I would be willing to pay dearly for his copy of Tom Sawyer if he ever recovered it.”

“I thought you said you didn’t know him.”

“I don’t. It was at the signing when I asked him. I told him I’d pay a nice finder’s fee if he could get the kids to sell me theirs.” Then he paused again. I was beginning to realize he was the kind to choose his words carefully. “You’ve got to get that backpack from him, Jake. I’ll pay whatever you ask.”

“What is in there, Paul?”

“Why don’t you meet me at that pizza place down the road from you, say tomorrow at noon, and I’ll fill you in?”

Wilson hung up before I could object.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Paul Wilson was late for our meeting at Beau Jo’s, so I let Fred out of my Jeep to chase sticks in the creek behind the parking lot. Except for takeout, I hadn’t been to any of the Beau Jo’s restaurants since Julie died. They reminded me too much of the day I fell for her, when we had eaten at the one in Idaho Springs after window shopping with Fred. She had thought it was so cute the way he held his own leash while following us. I often wondered who she loved more, me or Fred.

We didn’t have to wait long before I saw Wilson’s Mercedes SUV pull into the parking lot. Fred dropped his stick at my feet and began to growl. “You really don’t like him very much, do you, Freddie?” He never once took his eyes off the SUV while I escorted him back to the Jeep.

Wilson must not have seen us for he headed straight for the restaurant after getting out of his car. I ruffled the fur on Fred’s head and asked him to behave himself before locking him in the Jeep and running to catch Wilson. “Wait up, Paul,” I yelled.

He stopped short of entering the restaurant, giving me the chance to catch up with him. “Jake! I didn’t see you over there. Sorry, I’m late.”

“No problem. Fred needed some exercise anyway. I got up too late to take him on our walk around the lake, but he had fun chasing ducks and sticks in the creek.”

Wilson glanced over at my Jeep where Fred had his big head sticking out the half-open window. “Looks like he recovered from the pepper spray,” he said, and then turned to go inside.

***

We had taken a table overlooking the creek where I had been watching a small brood of ducklings follow their mother in the water while Wilson studied the menu. “By the way, Jake, how’s that arm?”

“It’s almost back to normal, thanks for asking.”

“Well, if you need to, get it looked at, and send me the bill.”

“Wow, thanks, Paul, but I don’t think that’ll be necessary. It should be as good as new in a day or two.” I didn’t mention the reason I hadn’t seen the doctor is because I didn’t have insurance. I was still paying for the last time I went to the ER. I’d sworn I’d die before going back again, after getting the bill.

His eyes went back to the menu. “Beautizers instead of appetizers, that’s cute. Have you tried the stuffed mushrooms? They sure sound good.”

“No, I usually order one of their mountain pie pizzas. There’s no way I can finish one of those, much less an appetizer.” I didn’t mention my regular order of a whole pizza was so I’d have leftovers for Fred.

It was obvious Wilson had been making small talk, for he didn’t so much as grunt a response, and kept his nose buried in the menu. I wondered how to cut to the chase, and ask about the backpack when the waitress saved me.

“Would you gentlemen care for anything to drink?” she asked.

Wilson looked up from his menu, and hooked his thumbs in his suspenders. “Can I get a Fat Tire, gorgeous?”

She blushed before turning to me. “And you, sir?”

I felt bad for her. I knew she went to Bonnie’s church and couldn’t be more than a couple years out of high school. Wilson had to be pushing sixty. “Just black coffee, please,” I answered, handing her my menu. “And I’ll take one of the Classic Calzones specials when you get a chance.” I wasn’t sure who was paying, and Fred needed to cut back on people food anyway.

“How about you, Sir?” she asked Wilson, without looking up from her order pad. “Are you ready to order, too?”

He pulled on one of his suspender straps and let it snap back into place before stroking his goatee. His eyes were all over her. “As much as I’d love to have one of your mountain pies, I’ve got to stay in shape, so how about a Caesar salad with lots of grated cheese on top.”

I’ll bet it was all the waitress could do to not laugh in his face. Even I knew the suspenders were probably because there wasn’t a belt made that could fit his waist.