Authors: Rene Gutteridge
“Melb! It’s just a fantasy!”
Melb was pointing and gesturing at the window. “Sha … sha.
“Shark?” Ainsley frowned. “You’re pretending to see a shark? Melb! This is supposed to be a fantasy where nothing bad happens! You’re supposed to be relaxing!” Ainsley had reached her boiling point. “You are going to have to get ahold of yourself! Find a way to deal with this! Babies are a blessing!”
Melb, however, was furiously shaking her head, and still pointing. “Sha—” Melb was trembling all over. Ainsley didn’t realize she had such a vivid imagination. “Shadow!”
“Shadow?”
Melb hurried toward her. “It just passed across the window. I swear it. It looked like a man.” She turned to Ainsley. “Somebody’s out there!”
W
OLFE WALKED HIS USUAL ROUTE
to the coffee shop, which was now called a coffeehouse. The townspeople didn’t seem to mind the name change either—what with all the frills attached. The store was seeing more business than it had in a long time. And though most people still stayed with the black coffee, a few ventured out and tried the riskier versions, such as coffee with foam.
Wolfe had gone to get coffee this morning for multiple reasons. First of all, he was completely exhausted and had finished the entire pot at home. Last night, he’d driven all the way back from Chicago, only to be greeted by a houseful of people worried about a snake, which probably was only a vacuum cleaner hose. But Oliver wasn’t convinced, and so now they had houseguests who would surely stay until the snake was caught.
He was supposed to meet Alfred here in thirty minutes. They had hardly discussed anything after the conference. On their drive home Alfred had fallen asleep in the passenger’s seat five minutes after they left Chicago.
He yawned his way in, and was immediately flagged down by his father-in-law and Butch. “You look wiped out,” the sheriff said, rubbing his own bloodshot eyes.
“Luckily,” Butch said, “I’m trained for this sort of thing, or I’d probably need a nap. But I won’t sleep until I find out what happened last night.”
To Wolfe’s horror, the uproar continued long into the night after
Melb claimed she’d seen someone outside the back window of his house. Ainsley said the dogs had never barked, so Wolfe was immediately skeptical. Butch found footprints, but it hadn’t rained in a week, so they could’ve been anybody’s.
At least it was giving Butch something to do.
Just as Butch was getting ready to explain a tactical plan for catching the elusive shadow, the door to the coffee shop opened, and a man who looked like he’d jumped out of an adventure novel breezed in. He nodded at a few customers, apparently aware he would be pegged immediately as the stranger in town. He wore a light tan Panama shirt, with a leather vest too small for his broad chest and an overly accessorized belt that drew attention to the belly that hung over it.
He looked to be a mix between a ranch hand and fashion disaster. As he passed by their table, he smiled and said, “G’day.”
“He sounds Australian,” the sheriff whispered as the man approached the counter.
“It’s a fake accent,” Butch said. “And those aren’t real snake boots, either.”
They watched as the man ordered his coffee, then left without another bother.
“Come on,” Butch said. “Let’s go do a little investigating. Something smells fishy about this guy.”
“Or at the very least a little bit horsy,” Wolfe smiled. No one caught his joke.
“You coming, Wolfe?” the sheriff asked, plopping his hat on his head.
“I’m meeting Alfred.” He looked at both of their serious faces. “But keep me updated.”
“Will do,” the sheriff said, and out they went. Wolfe went to order some coffee. He had been unable to sleep in this morning, and he had
a horrible headache. Melb had confined herself to the bathroom, shouting repeatedly at Oliver to bring her crackers and Sprite.
Ainsley wasn’t much better to be around. She was still reeling about an episode from last night she could only describe as “hormonal insanity.” She didn’t fix breakfast, and hardly left the bedroom. Wolfe could only wonder if Melb was any indication about what his life might be like when Ainsley got pregnant. But with all her crazy charts and schedules, would he ever get a chance to try? Marriage had been great, but he was certainly not prepared for the emergence of idiosyncrasies that had more than once prompted a little doubt. He loved Ainsley, and that’s what kept him focused. But marriage was certainly challenging. He said a short prayer for Oliver, who he imagined was pulling out the last of what little hair he had.
Wolfe slowly drank his coffee and gnawed on a scone, relishing the serenity of the moment. But it didn’t last long. The door opened, the cool air hit his face, and Alfred bore down on him.
“Coffee,” he mumbled, dropping his coat on the chair and wandering off to the counter. He returned shortly, his face a little perkier. “This place has done a turnaround. They actually have a macchiato!” He gestured with his thumb and said, “And I just noticed a cell phone store across the street.”
“Really?” Wolfe tried to look out the front window.
“That’s exciting news. Maybe that means I can get service now. No offense, but it’s like the Death Valley of the cell phone connection around here. My phone doesn’t even roam. It just drops dead.”
Wolfe shook his head. It was hard to imagine a cell phone store opening up. Why would a town so small that a person only had to dial the last four digits of a local phone number need cell phones?
Alfred took his seat and crossed his legs more flamboyantly than
most men. His dark, shiny shoe swung as he carefully folded his hands on top of the table. “So,” he said. “You have a lot of explaining to do.”
Wolfe grinned. By the time he’d found Alfred at the conference, he looked ready to jump into Wolfe’s arms. Apparently Alfred had become quite a quick celebrity among the writers. A few had encircled him when Wolfe found him in the main conference lounge. “We haven’t even had a chance to really talk. You slept like a baby all the way home. I thought I was going to have to carry you to your hotel room.”
“Funny. It was our first writers’ conference, but you somehow managed to disappear for over two hours.”
“I was pitching my book, like you told me to. It was time well spent. Harry Rector is a nice man.”
“Well, while you were frolicking with the industry executives, I was busy watching my back. I had three ladies offer to pray over me. And over me’ wasn’t well enough defined for me to give permission. I tell you, that’s a whole other world, isn’t it?”
“I loved it.”
“You would.”
“Well, what did you do while I was gone?”
Alfred traced his hairline, and a wicked grin emerged. “I can’t help but brag. I think I may have found the new It girl.”
Wolfe laughed. “The It girl?”
“Doris Buford.” He flicked his hand. “Her name doesn’t exactly have a bestseller ring to it, but she uses a pen name and is a fantastic writer. I would even call her literary.”
Wolfe frowned. “You never called me literary.”
Alfred engaged him, now tracing his coffee lid. “Wolfe, you are a fine writer. No doubt about that. But Doris … now this woman has command of the language. She had me weeping.” He raised an eyebrow. “I screamed once when reading a book of yours, but never cried. Except that time you
played that practical joke and sent me that stupid fake ending where everyone, including the protagonist
and
narrator, gets murdered.”
Wolfe smiled. “That was a good one.”
“Anyway, all was not lost. I’m getting more comfortable with this religious fiction industry. And I’m pretty sure I can groom Doris to take all.” He studied Wolfe. “You look terrible. You’re not jealous, are you?”
“Please. I’m happy for you. I’m glad you’re taking this all seriously.”
“So what’s wrong with you?”
“Long night,” Wolfe growled. “I can’t even begin to explain it.”
“Trouble on the home front?”
“Well, if by ‘home front’ you mean that my house has now turned into Hotel California, then yes.”
“I won’t ask,” Alfred said, waving his hand. “Let’s talk about me. You know, I’m a pretty open-minded person, but I have to be honest, there were some things I saw last night that totally shocked me.”
“Was it the class on levitating?”
“You’re on a roll. I thought Harry said levitate, not meditate, and had he said levitate, then of course it would’ve been cause for alarm. I’ll admit, I overreacted, but it was sort of a tense day.” He paused. “I met this other agent. Nice woman.”
Wolfe waited. “And?”
“That’s what I mean. Nice woman.”
“That’s shocking?”
“In an agent, yes. Oh sure, we have our charming smiles and winsome handshakes, which fool a great deal of the literary general public. But agents can never fool other agents. Beneath all the niceties, we know the eye of a snake when we see it.”
“Interesting.”
“When I was an editor, we just pretended it wasn’t there. After all, the agent is the lifeline, so if you want the big author, you better make
nice with the big agent. But you put a group of agents together in a room, and it’s death by radiant smile.”
“So this woman obviously impressed you.”
“She was genuinely nice. I had my claws into Doris Buford, but at the end of the night, this agent was happy that I had her, even though she knew her first. She seemed excited that I had a new client.”
“I’m happy for you, Al.”
“What about you? Any new ideas for a book? Did the conference finally light that long-diffused fire?”
“It was informative. Met a lot of good people.”
“What about a story idea, Wolfe? I’m glad you enjoyed the socializing, but do I have to remind you that as likable as you are, you still have to have a story?”
“I know. I’m working on it. There’s no hurry.”
Alfred glanced at his watch. “Ooooh! Gotta go.” He jumped up and pulled his coat on, swinging his expensive scarf around his neck.
“Where are you going?”
Alfred smiled gently. “Wolfe, I know this is going to be hard on you. I really do. But you’re going to have to understand that you’re not the center of my universe anymore. There was a time, yes indeed, where my world rotated around your star. But I’ve got to make a living. And as truly happy as I am that you’ve found your inner child, or you’ve aligned yourself with the planets, or—”
“Found God,” Wolfe sighed.
“Right. As happy as I am about that, I can’t wait around for the Almighty to inspire you.”
Wolfe felt himself growing angry, but he managed to smile. “Sure. I understand. So where are you going?”
“Believe it or not, Doris Buford lives fifty miles north of here. We’ve got an appointment in an hour.”
“Great. Good for you.”
Alfred toasted the air with his coffee. “Here’s to promising new talent!”
Katelyn thought she might cry with delight. Tears were actually forming in her eyes. The young man behind the counter, who looked like he was barely out of junior high but assured her he was eighteen, had a face full of expectation.
“I have bars,” Katelyn said. She turned the face of the phone toward him. “I have bars!”
“Whoa,” Billy breathed. “I can’t believe it. Try to call me!”
She quickly dialed the number, which was displayed on a huge sign hanging in the window of the cell phone store. Within seconds, the phone rang.
“Hello?” Billy said.
“Wait,” Katelyn said, holding up a finger. “I can’t hear you. It sounds like it’s still ringing.”
“Yes, that’s right! We have service, up and running!” he grinned.
Katelyn shook her head. “Hold up. It’s just ringing. I can’t hear your voice.”
“Well of course you can! Just walk through that door and you’re on your way!”
Katelyn frowned. Okay, maybe he was right. Moving toward the door might help. But when she did, nothing changed. “Let me dial again,” she said.
“Not necessary. All you have to do is step fearlessly into the twenty-first century, my friend.”
“What?”
“No sir, cell phones don’t cause brain cancer. All right, see you soon.” The kid winked at Katelyn and then hit the Flash button. “Hello?” His voice boomed through the phone.
“Hello?”
“Sorry about that. I think we might have our first customer coming in!”
Katelyn hung up the phone and walked back toward the kid. “I could hear you loud and clear.”
“That’s awesome.”
“Who was on the phone?”
“That was Mr. Horton. He doesn’t even own a microwave.”
“I can’t believe nobody noticed the tower going up on the highway.”
“Oh, they noticed. There were all kinds of theories about what it was.”
“No one knew it was a cell phone tower?”
“That was a guess. Among other things … like an alien space station.”
“Don’t people understand the freedom a cell phone can bring?”