Don't Sweat the Small Stuff (24 page)

“For the past year, our brother has been offering to buy our shares of the business.” For a frail woman, her voice was strong and confident.

I nodded. Clemens had already told us that.

“The accidents that have plagued the show started almost at the same time he tendered his offers.”

“It could be a coincidence.”

Virginia Crouse spoke up.

“It could be a coincidence. It could be.” Very sarcastic. “But every time we had an accident, every time that one of the rides malfunctioned, something happened that triggered our suspicion.” She pushed her glass of wine from in front of her and frowned. “Something that gave him away, Mr. Moore. Something that proved to us that our brother was involved.”

“You can’t really believe that Moe is involved. What happened?
People were injured for God’s sake, a woman was killed. And the federal government found no fault with the show.” I wish I’d done a little bit of investigating. “What else could possibly happen that would make you suspicious?”

Judy Schiller leaned toward me. Her eyes were on fire, and she grabbed my hand and squeezed it till my fingers ached. “Every time there was one of these so-called accidents, Mr. Moore, Moe’s next offer was substantially lower than the one before.”

I sipped my beer at the bar. My hosts had moved on, without so much as an offer of one small beverage. Screw ’em. I had to get my head on straight, and the ice-cold Yuengling helped.

I’m new to the real world of business. I majored in business, but what I learned appeared to be quite different when applied to today’s companies. I thought that everyone profited when you made a lot of money. Conversely, I thought that everyone sucked wind when you fell on hard times. Why would someone deliberately try to lose money?

So it turns out people will drive down the value of the company when they are trying to leverage the buyout.

James and I dreamed of having a company worth millions of dollars. Millions.

What Clemens, Schiller, and Crouse were proposing was that Moe Bradley dreamed of having a company worth almost nothing. Then, being the white knight in shining armor, he would swoop in, offer to buy the property for pennies on the dollar, and save the day.

At the same time, he was probably prepared to rename the
business, rebuild the value, and in a very short period of time it would be worth much more than what he’d paid. What a guy.

What a dangerous guy. Whether he’d planned to kill the government agent or not, it made no difference. Once he’d killed someone, it was easy to kill again. I wondered if he personally shot Kevin Cross or had it done professionally. Shot him while he was on the john. Nasty stuff.

And if he suspected James and me of suspecting him, well, I didn’t want to think what he might have planned for that eventuality.

That’s what Schiller and Crouse proposed. They figured that brother Moe was the guilty party.

But that still left Bo and Charlie, the questionable ride operators. And that still left Winston and his girlfriend, Linda. And where the heck did that leave Angie Bradley/Clark? The banker?

I gulped my beer and ordered another. James and I drank too much. But at least I had company.

I drank it in five minutes, put my money on the bar, and walked out. By now I was sure that James was wondering where his partner was. I was sure that Em was either finding it impossible to deal with Winston and Linda or she’d gone back to the trailer. And if she’d gone back to the trailer, was Jody still there? Now that pissed me off.

A gust of wind kicked up dust from the show ground as I walked down to the Tail. I wondered if James was hanging at the outskirts or if he’d gone into the fenced area and was wiping up customers’ urine-covered seats.

From a distance I could see the Tail, stretching out up in the sky. The appendage snapped to the left, hung there for a moment, then snapped to the right. Viewing the ride from this
distance was almost more frightening than riding it. If something happened to that ride, people could be scattered all over the landscape.

And there, parked by the fence, was James’s newest possession, his sacred white box truck. It was the first I’d seen it in the daylight, and I wondered what had possessed him to drive the very short distance to the Tail.

As I walked closer, I saw the aluminum ladder, stretched across the top. The vehicle looked like a poor man’s construction truck, a look that I’m sure James was going for.

When I finally arrived, the ride was loading again. Three people stood in line. Searching the immediate area, I saw no sign of James. Just like him to desert his post. But to leave the precious truck?

“Skip Moore.”

I spun around and Moe was standing behind me, his steel gray eyes looking into mine and his arms crossed over his sculpted chest.

“Looking for your friend?” He almost yelled to be heard above the blasting music.

“As a matter of fact—”

Moe made a sweeping motion with his arm. “He’s on the Tail.”

“What?” We must have been right in the path of a bass speaker. I felt my head vibrating.

He spoke louder. “He’s on the Tail. Back there.”

I jerked around, trying to find the car that carried James. The tail was surprisingly empty. I saw one car with an elderly couple sitting patiently.

“Oh, trust me, he’s there. I personally escorted him to his seat.” He kept pointing. “And, Skip, I thought Angie told you to be down here this morning. Your partner is here. You weren’t.”

“We were here. Both of us, but something came up.”

“Son, you’re working for me. If you want the job, then nothing comes up. Your friend is back there, on the Tail.”

“Impossible. He’s scared to death of the Tail.”

“Are you calling me a liar? I told you, I seated him myself.”

Very strange. “Moe, James hated this ride. He hates any ride.”

“Well, why don’t you go out there and see for yourself. Maybe you can coax him off the ride.”

Frantically I kept looking.

“Come on, I’ll take you out to his car.” He was shouting, but no one could hear.

And then I saw James. Halfway back in the line of cars that made up the Tail. He was slumped in the seat, all by himself and there were only two more couples to be seated.

“Moe, he doesn’t look—”

“Healthy? I think he’s probably just resting, Skip.” “

“What happened to him?” I glanced back at the tall gentleman with those commanding features and the steely gaze.

“Nothing. I suggested that he get on the ride one more time to check it out.” His voice told me he was lying. “Come with me. Let’s see if he’s okay.”

He grabbed my arm, pushed past the last couple in line and moving quickly, hustled down to James’s car.

“James.” Moe yelled his name. There was no response.

“James.” I yelled his name. No response.

“What? Is he drugged?”

“Very perceptive, young man. You’re sharp, I’ll give you that. But maybe not sharp enough. Imagine you coming back at this very second. Not the brightest thing you’ve ever done, but it’s perfect timing, Skip. Perfect.”

As I glanced up at Moe, I saw the needle in his hand.

“You weren’t supposed to see this, but—”

“What the—” I stepped back, the metal fence stopping my escape. He took two steps toward me and I pressed into the fence, feeling the cheap metal dig into my back. There was nowhere to go.

“You won’t feel a thing.”

“You’re going to—” I lashed out, connecting with a bone-shaking kick hard on the shin. Bradley’s eyes widened as his hand flew open and he dropped the needle.

Sliding to the right I took two steps and he caught me across the throat with his arm. I thought I’d swallowed my Adam’s apple. I tried to groan, but no sound would come out, and I fought to catch my breath.

Picking up the needle, he made a jab at me and I spun. The needle punched open air and he regrouped.

“Look, punk, you’re joining your friend,” Moe reached out and grabbed my shoulder with the strength of a vice.

I winced, looking around for some help. No one was paying any attention. Only four cars were full, and Bo and Charlie were laughing and smoking cigarettes in the control booth.

“Trust me, this is painless.” Moe shot for my arm as I jerked. He missed and tightened his grip.

The music blared “Don’t stop believin’” as Steve Perry belted out the lyrics, and I screamed at the two dimwits by the buttons. I screamed, but not loud enough. They were lost in their own world.

“Take it like a man.” I sensed the irritation in his voice, the frustration that he wasn’t getting his way.

Once again I watched the needle in his right hand. I wasn’t going to be slumped over in the seat next to James, because it appeared that this ride to hell wasn’t coming back. Once it started, it appeared there was only one conclusion.

Moe’s eyes shone and he raised his needle arm once more. I threw my elbow back and up, catching the big man under his
chin. So close I could hear his teeth slam together even over the loud music. As his head snapped back, I jerked away from his loosening grip, spinning again and catching his chest with my open palm. Moe staggered back and I ran.

Running as fast as I could I headed for the open ground. I heard loud puffing and looked behind me as the shimmering Tail rose slowly in the air, steam pouring from the mouth of the beast, and I ground to a halt, spinning around and searching the area. No Moe. Anywhere.

Standing twenty feet from the Tail was the small zookeeper, hands shoved deep into his overalls. Winston Pugh was watching the Tail, and as the long line of cars rose from the ground, I saw James, eyes closed, leaning over the handlebar, oblivious to the world below.

If Jody was right, if the valve was going to stick, it was going to happen on this ride. I moved quickly to the control panel. Charlie stood there, giving me a dirty look.

“What the hell were you and Moe arguing about?”

“Arguing? He was trying to kill me.”

Charlie smirked and turned his attention to the ride. “If Moe wanted you dead, you’d be dead.”

The Tail snapped to the left and even from the ground I could see James’s body flop like a limp rag.

“Charlie, stop the ride.”

“You don’t just stop the ride after the first twist up there.” Paying no attention to me, he watched the Tail.

“Look, somebody put some grease or something on one of the valves. This machine is going to gum up and the whole ride is going to—”

The Tail snapped to the right.

“I’m not gonna stop the ride.” He shouted over the music.

There was no sign of Bo as I stepped closer to Charlie. “Look, Charlie—”

The James look-alike glared at me, the only real barrier between the ride and me. “Get away.”

All I had to do was get close to the yellow button. Arm’s length. The ride would stop, the Tail would sink slowly back to the ground, and this nightmare would be over.

He swung for my jaw and I jumped back.

“Don’t screw with my ride.”

“The ride is going to freeze up. I’m not making this up. You’re going to have a serious problem, dude. Stop it.”

“Bo should have knocked a little more sense into your head.” He swung wildly again and I deflected the blow with my arm.

The Tail thrashed, then plummeted to the ground, slowing down at the last second. As it gently glided to earth I thought about the split second I could get James out of the car. It was too late already.

“Kid.” The voice fought over the music of Journey, and from the corner of my eye I saw Pugh, trudging toward us in his floppy rubber boots.

“Get the hell away from here.” Charlie stood in front of the machine, arms spread as if daring me to come closer. “I’ll kill you. So help me God.”

Screams came from the ride as the tail started back up again, rising from the ground in its green and gold glory. I prayed James was still out cold.

“Charlie, the valve—”

“They fixed the valve this morning. Weren’t you paying attention?” Charlie screamed, staring at me wildly as I moved from side to side, trying to find my way in to push that yellow button.

I jabbed and he covered, jabbed a second time and heard a thud in the gears. Looking up at the Tail, hovering at forty feet, I saw it shake, then freeze. Another clunk and I looked back at Charlie. A look of surprise and fear frozen on his face.

“Do you keep a solvent? Come on, man, you’ve got to have something. Something to spray on the valves.” I remembered Moe’s tutorial on unsticking a valve. It was on his highjacked computer screen. Spray a kerosene solvent on the valve.

A crunching sound and the Tail quivered. Only two of us knew the ride was in serious trouble.

The red and white can set beside the control station was emblazoned with the word Kero-Spray in bright bold letters. I threw open the metal door on the housing unit and leaned inside. Piston-like tubes of steel were lined up on the right, and I sprayed. A lethal shot of Kero-Spray, just hoping upon prayer that things would straighten themselves out. I sprayed again. And one more time for good measure.

As the fumes hit my brain, I backed out, stumbling in my woozy state. Feeling something grabbing my wrist, I tried to shake it off, but someone twisted my arm behind my back and pushed me away. Bo, Charlie—somebody pushing me to the ground.

“Kid. I’m trying to get your attention. Are you listening?” Pugh stood above me, sweat dripping off his shiny forehead. He spit tobacco not two inches from my face and stared at me. It was at that very second that the ride exploded with a roar of raw thunder and the housing unit ripped apart as a giant ball of fire erupted from the metal box.

As I lay there on the ground, shards of hot metal cascaded on me like a swarm of bees, their stingers jabbing my tender skin. Pushing myself up, I started to run, watching behind me as the ball of fire contracted and seemed to die as quickly as it started.

Feeling the pain of the stinging burns, I brushed at my arms and face, stopping in a short distance to catch my breath. I had to stop this slovenly life. Too much drinking. Too little exercise.