Ed Lynskey - Isabel and Alma Trumbo 01 - Quiet Anchorage (21 page)

After relating what she’d gleaned from Reynolds, Sammi Jo took a quick breath. Alma drove, hands at ten and two on the steering wheel. A tight-lipped Isabel watched a stretch of slash pines blur by them. The greedy loggers had harvested, leaving behind an army of stumps. To her mind, a clear-cut pine barren was a haggard scene. Bulldozers had cleared the stumps to make way for another new subdivision, an even more haggard scene.

“So their disagreement turned ugly enough for Reynolds to toss them out,” said Sammi Jo.

“We might ask Clarence about it and gauge his reaction,” said Alma.

The idea provoked Sammi Jo’s headshake. “I don’t give any good odds that will work. He’s a liar and he’ll deny everything.”

She recalled Reynolds had said Jake bought the contested Mag wheels at Lopez’s, and she suggested pitstopping there. A short distance later, Alma parked them on a packed clay pad under a grove of Osage orange trees. They saw the hood to a maroon sedan flipped up, and three oilcans lined up on the radiator. Sammi Jo didn’t recognize the skinny kid upending the spout to glug in the next quart of oil to the crankcase, but his multiple body piercings made her flinch. Squeamish over any needles, she nodded at Isabel also giving the skinny kid a skeptical look.

Lopez’s sales room was akin to a frosty October dawn. They heard an air wrench’s whine behind the plexi-glass door to the shop area. The smell of motor oil reached their noses. Sammi Jo hailed Monty, the teen-ager bearing a moon-face, pointy nose, and burnt brown hair working the counter.

His easy nod greeted her. “Air filters, oil filters, and batteries are all on sale.”

She hatched her most captivating smile. “Just a little info, Monty. What’s that cost?”

“For you, a buck seventy and a doughnut.” Amused by his jibe, he grinned at her. “If I know it, no charge.”

“Reynolds Kyle told me Jake Robbins bought a set of Mag wheels. Did you wait on him?”

“Reynolds is mixed up,” replied Monty. “I sold Jake a ton of car accessories but nothing that flashy. That’s too much inventory for us to carry, my boss says.”

Alma edged up to the counter. “Have you any ideas where Jake bought these Mag wheels?”

Monty filed his fingernails across the smooth countertop. “My guess says he ordered them from a car parts catalog.”

Alma swabbed a tissue at her uncooperative nose. “Do these catalogs deliver the parts directly to your house?”

“That’s how they turn a profit,” replied Monty. “Why do you ask?”

“Clarence Fishback and he had a quarrel over the Mag wheels,” replied Alma.

“Some quarrel. Jake takes a bullet to the ticker,” said Monty.

An eyebrow arched, Sammi Jo leaned in, and Monty’s eyes stayed glued to her. “Did you pick up any rumors on his murder?”

“Who me? No-no.”

“Monty hon, my eyes are above my nose, not below my neck,” she chided him.

“So much better. Let’s try again. What have you heard for real on his murder?”

“The same as everybody else,” replied Monty, meeting her eyes.

“When did Clarence last stop by here?” she asked.

“He no longer does,” replied Monty. “My boss and he jawed, and my boss banned him.”

“What instigated it?”

“Clarence was outside the door handing out campaign pamphlets, and my boss took exception to it. He shouldn’t feel alone. My boss also gave Vernon Spitzer the hook.”

Sammi Jo smiled. “What did Vernon do?”

“The same as Clarence except Vernon was pushing religious tracts,” replied Monty.

“Were the religion tracts for his church?” asked Alma.

Monty drifting down the counter shrugged. “You got me. I believe he was out of sorts over the abortion doctors.”

“He should stick to running the pharmacy,” said Sammi Jo.

“Thank you for your time and help,” Alma told Monty fiddling with the cash register.

Halfway to the exit behind Alma and Isabel, Sammi Jo heard Monty say, “You guys hurry back.” She glanced over her shoulder and smiled at him. Outside, she ducked into the sedan’s rear seat, and Quiet Anchorage became their destination. They passed a full lot at the clinic—the sign-carrying protestors had left—and made the turn off the highway to Main Street. Sammi Jo said she better go home and tackle doing some laundry from her Mount Rushmore of dirty clothes.

Alma nodded, aware of how many generations of singles had used the quaint apartment rentals over the drugstore. In fact, she’d moved off the farm to live in one before finding Husband Number One. At the corner of Main and Franklin, they spotted the trio on the wood bench basking in the sun. Ossie was the only one alert enough to wave.

“Why do they put me in mind of three iguanas?” asked Isabel.

“Iguanas without body heat use the sun to warm their blood,” replied Alma.

“Did you get that trivia from a crossword puzzle?” asked Isabel.

Alma just nodded.

Disappointment soured Sammi Jo’s face. “I hate to admit it, but today we got skunked.”

“Tomorrow is a new start,” said Alma, trying to be philosophical.

The sedan occupied one of the empty parking slots in front of the drugstore. A loud engine sounded. Their turned heads saw a maroon car with a white vinyl roof snake out of the alleyway from behind the drugstore and accelerate heading the opposite way.

“Where is Vernon off like a streak?” asked Isabel.

“He tears off like that all the time,” replied Sammi Jo.

“What he needs is a wife and family to settle down,” said Isabel.

“He’s too busy with being Vernon,” said Sammi Jo.

 
“I don’t know about you, but I’m set to faint from hunger,” said Alma.

“We’ve put in a full day’s work,” said Isabel. “Let’s go to dinner, my treat. Is Eddy’s Deli acceptable?”

“You don’t have to twist my arm,” replied Sammi Jo. “Chowing down at the deli always trumps doing laundry at Clean Vito’s.”

“My allergy meds should be ready,” said Alma, sniffing.

Inside the drugstore a hatchet-faced blonde in a crisp blue smock—Vernon’s new part-time assistant, she proudly said—waited on Alma. She took her allergy pills with a Dixie cup of water drawn at the soda fountains.

The sedan ferried them to Eddy’s Deli where Deputy Clarence Fishback’s cruiser parked at a diagonal stance took up two slots. A wise guy had etched in the trunk’s coat of dust, “Wash Me!” However Clarence’s spare time had been curtailed from scrubbing his cruiser. They watched him through the deli windows rotating from booth to booth, shaking hands and chatting it up with the locals who for the most part didn’t reciprocate his attention.

“Clarence is a regular politicking machine,” said Sammi Jo, the first one out of the sedan.

“Are you okay with eating here?” asked Isabel.

“Let’s get a pizza in Warrenton,” said Alma.

“No, we picked Eddy’s, and Clarence isn’t running us off,” said Sammi Jo.

Isabel the first one inside the deli said, “Grab the booth closest to the door.”

“Sit wherever it suits your fancy,” said Sammi Jo.

Once again the plunging temperatures set teeth chattering and turned lips blue. Isabel tugged Alma’s sleeve, and they hung back while Sammi Jo stalked up the aisle between the booths. With his back to her, Clarence leaned into a booth to reach for a shirking lady’s hand.

Isabel whispered to Alma. “This was a terrible idea I had.”

“Too late to stop Sammi Jo,” said Alma. “She’s in rare form, fangs bared to mangle Clarence.”

“At least we can lend her any moral support,” replied Isabel. Still on their feet, they poised near the door, their eyes wary.

Hearing footsteps behind him, he turned and lowered his militant eyes to skewer Sammi Jo.

“Gee, all, look at what the pole cat coughed up,” he said as a snarl. “If you’re here for us to get back together, sorry, baby cakes, no can do. We’re history.”

The orange-haired deputy’s taunt seemed to lash at her. Her eyes moistened, and her sandy face crumbled into jagged pieces.

“Clarence, you hurt me,” she said, emotion thickening her voice.

“Well,
boo-hoo-hoo
. What, you’ve never broken up with a man before me? If you want pity, go look in the dictionary.”

“You’ve twisted around why I called it quits. But people know what you are.” Her glance swept across the attentive diners. The nearest lady nodded in agreement. “You’re just a cheat as well as a liar.”

“Hey, careful how liberally you fling around those slurs.” He wagged his finger at her. “You’d better respect this uniform.”

Knowing a thing or two about how to counter smart alecks, Alma spoke up. “It looks wrinkled. Who’s your dry cleaner? Next time I’ll know who not to use.”

A run of amused titters circulated through the seated diners. The deputy’s sight shifted over Sammi Jo’s shoulder. “Alma, is this conversation any of your affair?”

“Don’t take that contrary tone with me,” said Alma with heat.

A barrel-chested man in a polo shirt and bleached denim cutoffs set down his glass of iced tea, wiped his mouth, and ranged up, towering a half-dozen inches over Clarence. His eyebrows veed in a no-nonsense attitude. “Deputy, you’re done speechmaking. So, hit the road.”

“Eddy, don’t stick your nose where it doesn’t belong,” said Clarence.

Eddy grinned as if tickled by his arrogance. “It’s funny how you waltz into my deli and interrupt people’s dinner with your glad-handing, but if someone objects, you get all bent out of shape.”

“I’m sick and tired of this girl chasing me,” said Clarence.

Wounded too much, the distraught Sammi Jo backpedaled a half-step. Her shoulders jerked, each rising sob made rawer. Alma and Isabel moved in and helped to cover her embarrassed retreat to the door.

Clarence’s lips gnarled into a leer until Eddy spoke. “Deputy, you can feel proud for berating a young lady and making her cry. People, don’t we deserve such a stand up guy for our next sheriff?”

A round of murmurs approved of Eddy’s denouncement.

“He’s nothing but a bully,” said the nearest lady.

“See this badge, Eddy? You better respect it. That’s a fair warning.”

“Fair warning, rot. I own this deli, and the property it sits on. As of this moment, you’re a pariah here. You better scram before I call Sheriff Fox and report your campaigning for his job while on duty.”

“Hold on, Eddy,” said Clarence, also backpedaling. The diners’ grouped their derisive stares on him. “There’s no call for that. Sammi Jo and I had a misunderstanding, and this wasn’t like it looked.”

Eddy unhooked a cell phone from his belt. “You better make tracks, or I make that call.”

Clarence licked his lips into a feeble smile. Stony glares at him increased the tension. “A misunderstanding,” he repeated, angling for the door.

* * * *

Alma’s curt glance monitored the deli. “Eddy just tossed out Clarence.”

“Serves him right,” said Isabel.

Sammi Jo dabbed the crumpled tissue at her bleary eyes. “Wow, I didn’t see that Mack truck barreling down the pike. My emotions must bubble awfully close to the surface. I’ll go hide in my apartment until next Christmas.”