Murder and Mayhem (31 page)

While they were waiting Nicola took the time to look
around. The old linoleum on the floor was faded and cracked, the seat covers
worn and threadbare, the furniture scarred and battered. Old photographs and
dog-eared posters, yellow with age, lined the walls. The place had that damp,
musty smell often found in old wooden buildings set among trees where the air was
always damp.

Danny stood up to get a better look at a couple of
photographs on the wall above the booth. He read the inscription under an old
sepia-colored photograph of six woodcutters holding upended wooden-handled
cross-cut saws, taller than them, standing in front of what appeared to be an
enormous felled tree. The exposed cut end of the tree that displayed many
centuries of age rings dwarfed the men as it towered over them like the
front-end of a steam train engine. One could only wonder what these men had
endured cutting down a tree that size with such primitive tools−they all
seemed so puny.

“Have you been to Maine before?” Nicola asked.

Danny leaned closer to scrutinize the way the men were
dressed in hand-me-down overalls with no shirt underneath; the legs of the
pants at least twelve-inches above sockless boots; the cut of their hair, and
pale unblinking eyes that looked like pools to lost souls.

“Danny?”

Danny looked at Nicola distractedly, and murmured,
“Um, what? Oh, sorry. I was just thinking about that old photograph.” He smiled
and sat down. “Have I been to Maine before? Yes, some years ago we traveled up
the coast from New York to Bar Harbor.”

“I’ve heard of Bar Harbor but I have no idea where it
is except it’s somewhere on the coast in Maine.”

“Bar Harbor is about thirty miles south-east of
Bangor. It’s a real pretty place in the summer, but I wouldn’t care to try my
chances in winter…” Danny said.

The sound of voices drew their attention as the other
couple grabbed their jackets from the coat rack by the door and wandered over
to the counter. The waitress stepped out of the kitchen, exchanged pleasantries
and took their money, then helped them with jackets, pulling out caught collars
and inverted sleeves, said goodbye, and headed back to kitchen. The man delved
into his pants pocket and came up with a handful of scrunched up dollar bills.
He dropped them on the counter and followed his companion to the door.

The small bell tinkled as lazy dust motes rode in on a
shaft of sunlight that pooled on the faded, cracked linoleum floor. The man
turned and nodded to Danny and Nicola then followed his companion out into the
bleak watery sunlight.

“What was that all about?” Nicola asked when they were
gone.

Danny shrugged. “Who knows? They’re probably just
friendly folk acknowledging fellow travelers.”

*****

My sister’s voice cut into my concentration and
dragged me back to the present. “Who was that?”

I looked at her over the top of my glasses. “Just a
couple of travelers, so don’t go reading any more into it than that.”

Rosie got up off the chaise lounge and wandered over
to where a small patch of garden was planted with colorful blooms. She kneeled
on the soft grass and picked a small posy of flowers, and held them up.

“What are these called, Bubbie?”

“No point asking me, I don’t know a daisy from a
dandelion.”

Ross held out his hand. “Show me,” he said. When Rosie
handed him the flowers he gave them a cursory glance and handed them back.
“They’re pansies for crying out loud. I don’t know how you two manage to get
through the day. You both need full-time carers.”

“Hey! We’re not horticulturists, are we, Hon?”

“No, Bubbie, that’s what gardeners are for.”

“And, husbands,” I added.

Rosie settled onto the wicker chaise and studied the
purple and yellow flowers, then looked over at Ross, and smiled. “Ross?”

I watched my husband’s eyes go limpid. “Yes Hon.”

“Can you make us something to eat?”

“Oh, sure, Hon, what would you like?”

“Something yummy?”

“I’ll see what I can whip up,” he said and rose from
the chair.

“And, can you put these in some water?” she asked
handing him the posy of smiley-faced flowers.

Ross wandered down the path carrying the pansies like
a delicate bridal bouquet.

Rosie and I looked at each other–and burst out
laughing.

“I’ll just keep going then, shall I?” I said.

*****

“…The waitress shuffled food onto the table. From the
crook of her arm she dealt out bottles of ketchup, Tabasco and mayo then dipped
into her pockets and came up with two different types of mustard as well as
barbeque and steak sauce, and lined them down the middle of the table like a
demarcation line. When she finished, she must have noticed the bewildered look
on their faces.

“Anything else I can get for you?” she asked.

“You can sit down and help us eat all this food,”
Danny said as he eyed the biggest burger he had ever seen surrounded by a mound
of homemade fries–and large garden salads in china bowls. The blue cheese
dressing served in separate jugs looked homemade and smelled delicious.

The waitress laughed. “Big boy like you shouldn’t have
any trouble getting through that. Oh! And don’t forget to leave room for some
pie,” she threw over her shoulder as she walked away.

Nicola turned her plate around. “My God, Danny, one of
these could feed a family of four.”

When Fiona returned with the coffee pot she saw them
studying their plates.

“Don’t be afraid, just hoe right on in. It’s dead, it
won’t bite you back!” She laughed and walked over to the recently vacated
table, humming, and started to clear it.

“I’ve never seen a burger this size before. Not even
in Texas, where they make everything bigger,” Danny said as he removed the top
of the bun and covered the meat patty with hot mustard, Ketchup and steak
sauce. He picked up the Tabasco, removed the cap and was about to shake it over
the mince patty, had second thoughts and screwed the cap back on. He replaced
the top of the bun and squashed it down with his hand. He admired his handiwork
for a moment, then picked up the burger with both hands and took a large bite. 

“Mm, this sure tastes good!” Juices and sauces dripped
through his fingers and ran down his chin.

Nicola leaned over and dabbed his mouth and chin with
a napkin.

Danny grinned and took another mouthful. “This would
have to be the best hamburger I’ve ever eaten.” When he noticed the look on
Nicola’s face, he said, “Go on, like the lady said, just hoe right in–it won’t
bite.”

Nicola cleared a space on the side of her plate and
poured a mound of ketchup on it, cut the burger into bite size chunks and,
using a fork, dipped a piece in the sauce and popped it into her mouth. 

“So,” she said between mouthfuls, “what part of Texas
have you been to?” She picked up the napkin and dabbed at the corners of her
mouth.

“Pretty much all over. I went to El Paso–once. That was
enough,” he said and took another bite of the burger.

“Why, what happened?”

He gave her a dismissive shrug while he chewed and
then swallowed.

“About five years ago I traveled down Eighty-five
where people on the wrong side of the Rio Grande live in a corrugated scrapheap
of destitution, desperation and downright despair.”

*****

Rosie sat with her face cantered towards the sun.
“You’ve been to Texas haven’t you, Bubbie?”

“Uh-huh,” I murmured my mind caught in a distraction
as my fingers flew over the keys.

Ross looked out from behind the newspaper he was
reading and smiled. “We’ve been to Texas a couple of times haven’t we, Bee?”

“Mmm. Houston, Dallas, Galveston …”

Ross flashed me a cheeky grin. “Don’t forget El Paso.”

“Wish I could.”

“Why. What happened in El Paso?” Rosie shuffled
herself upright leaned into the pillow, steepled her fingers–and waited.

 I looked at Ross knowing he wouldn’t be able to
contain himself if I did the telling, so I opened the door and tossed him the
reins.

“Go ahead, Ross. You tell her.”

Ross folded the newspaper in half and placed it on the
grass by the chair, rubbed his hands over his bald pate, and pretended to
think.

“Well, let me see now …” He made a big show of trying
to remember, but I knew every minute detail was indelibly etched in his mind. I
allowed him center stage. He needed no prompting. 

“About five years ago we went to El Paso to pick up
some Harley parts from a guy I met at a swap-meet in Iowa.”

I nodded, and kept typing.

“If I remember correctly it was just after lunch when
we met D’Wayne, and as we hadn’t been to El Paso before, we decided to spend
the night and take a look around.”

The children’s voices drifted up
from the Dipsea steps, and the loud, deep bark of a large dog.

“
Big mistake!”
I offered.

“Yeah, real b
ig mistake,
” Ross added.

Rosie looked at him, a question mark hanging over her
head. “Why, Ross? What happened?” she asked leaning forward.

I picked up the story. “We were getting low on gas so
Ross pulled into a Texaco station, and while he was filling up I noticed some
local hoods on the street corner opposite, dressed gangsta fashion…”

“Gangsta fashion?”

“You know, Hon, the crotch of their pants hanging
round their knees, their bodies were covered in jailhouse tatts.”

Rosie nodded.

“They had malice in their eyes–and weapons in their
hands.”

Rosie sat bolt upright.
“Weapons! What kind of weapons?”

“A couple of them were carrying baseball bats,”

“Oh My God, Ross, what did you do?”

“I just kept filling the tank, avoiding eye contact
the way everyone says you should.”

Rosie nodded. “So what happened?”

My fingers hovered above the key. “One of them yelled
out something and they started heading across the road doing that funny skip,
jump, shuffle the way homeboys do, with the guys carrying the bats leading the
pack.”

“You must have been really scared?”

“Let me put it this way, Hon. I sure as hell wasn’t
going to wait round to find out what they wanted. I yanked the nozzle out of
the tank and took off so fast I forgot to screw the cap back on. God knows how
much gas I lost in that
Fangio
moment,” Ross said recalling the moment.

“Oh, My, God, that must have been so scary!”

Ross nodded, gravely. “Yes, it was.”

“Yeah, it was… real scary… Until I looked out the back
window and saw them go into the park, behind the gas station, where a baseball
game was about to start.” I reminded him… and Rosie burst out laughing.

“You never can tell with these things. It might have
turned out nasty,” Ross said trying to regain some form of credibility.

“Well, the main thing is that you and Bee got out of
there safely,” she said.

“Well, almost...”

Rosie looked at me. She was
obviously confused. “What do you mean? I thought you got away safely.”

“Well, yes, we did. But, later that day we were
checking into a motel on the other side of town…” Ross started.

“In what appeared to be a nice respectable
neighborhood,” I interjected.

Ross nodded. “It seemed that way
but as we all know, looks can be deceiving. I was unloading the car when this
black Ford pick-up pulls in beside us. The driver climbed out and came over to
me, and said, ‘You don’t want to hang around here any longer than you need to,
buddy. I just went to the hardware store down the block and was only gone a
minute or two when some low life
motherfucker–’
Oops, sorry, ladies.”

I waved him on with a flick of
the hand.

“‘…broke into my pick-up and ripped out my radio and
CD player, stole all my discs along with everything from the glove compartment.
They even took the lucky dice I’d picked up in Las Vegas. Man, what a shit-hole
this place is!’

“Thanks for the warning,” I told him, but I was too
pooped to find another motel so I grabbed all our stuff out of the trunk and
took it inside. Then I bolted the door and put a chair under the handle, closed
the drapes and unpacked the biggest Harley part I could find and put it on the
floor next to the bed. I wasn’t taking any chances, no siree, Bob. If someone
broke into our room he sure as hell wasn’t going to leave in one piece. I
didn’t care about the car, it was only a rental, but that night I slept with
one eye open and one hand on the weapon, and the next morning we were up and on
the road before daylight and didn’t stop until we crossed the border into New
Mexico.”