The Hunt Chronicles: Volume 1 (23 page)

“I’m sorry,
Professor.  I’m really sorry.  It’s Mayor
Ruskin,
he’s been riding me for the past three days on this.  He’s upset, I’m
upset,
this
whole town is upset and scared.  I never
thought it would end, but now it’s done, and…and…”  I stood up straight
and put a hand on his shoulder.

“And they’re just
kids.”

Myron sent me home
with a deputy who flapped his gums for the entire journey.  He kept asking
me how I knew it was the boys, how
did I know
they
were the ones, what clinched the collar, but I stopped trying to explain after
the third time he asked.

The deputy was kind
enough to cork it when we arrived home.  He helped me through another
group of reporters.  They were starting to look familiar now, but not too
familiar, thank god. 
This is going to get worse before it gets better
my little voice said. 
You solved another one, and that’s the last
thing you needed
.

I got into the house
and stood in front of the door.  The piles of papers and files were still
on my coffee table, my dog was still on the floor waiting for my arrival, and
my head was still pounding with three days’ worth of loosely connected facts,
lies, confusion, and conjecture.  I made my way around Mount Paperwork and
plopped down hard into my chair.  I sat there for an hour or so wondering
why everything on the planet suddenly seemed very wrong.  Then I turned to
my right, grabbed a stack of papers and began to read.

As predicted, my
investments in alarm clocks seemed totally worthless as my phone never failed
to wake me in the morning.  Awaking from under a blanket of paper, I
slowly hobbled out of my recliner to the phone in the kitchen.  It was
Myron, and he didn’t sound pleased at all.

“There’s news and then
there’s more news,” he said.

“Okay, start with
the news.”

“There wasn’t
anything on the rhino.  Not a damn thing.”

“Nothing?”

“Not
a drop of blood, not a single hair, nothing.
  The shape of the rhino doesn’t even match the
shape bashed into the dead man’s head.”

I said nothing for a
few moments while my sleepy brain tried to process this new information.

“What’s the other
news?”

“Simon’s
fingerprints were found all over Medley’s office.”  My heart sank in my
chest.

“What?  That
can’t be…”

“It’s the truth. 
On his desk, on his door, on the walls.
  He even
had his hands on that hideous tree painting behind his door.” 
Probably
thought about stealing it and then realized how ugly it was
I thought, and
was instantly ashamed of myself.

“Was there an
explanation? 
Anything at all?”

“Not yet,” Myron
said.  “Lawyer won’t let him or his
dad say
another word until he’s gone through everything with a fine-toothed comb. 
He’ll probably try to screw me on a bad search or evidence foul up, but he’s
got nothing on my guys.  This is just biding for time.”  I was quiet,
the thoughts and papers of the night before still swirling in my head. 
“What have you been up to, Professor?  Still smiling for the
cameras?”  He faked a chuckle.

“No, not smiling at
all, Myron.  I’ve been up all night going through personnel files.”

“Let it go,
Professor.  I know you liked this guy, but let it go.  One of them
science dweebs will get promoted to head dweeb and we can all put this behind
us.  Ruskin won’t take too long to choose a new Curator.”  My heart
skipped a beat.

“What did you say?”

“What?”

“Curator.
  Choosing a new Curator…”

“Professor?”

“Myron, I’ve got to
go, I’ll call you later.”

By ten a.m. I was on
the road and back in town hall.  The porky woman behind the counter in
Human Resources recognized me immediately and rolled her eyes.  I finally
noticed the name plate on her desk, probably because her huge frame wasn’t
blocking my view this time.  “Hello again, Shirley,” I said with a phony
smile.  She stood up slowly with a grunt and a wheeze and reached for a
pad and pen.  “You won’t need those, Shirley.  Today’s assignment is
easy.”  She rolled her eyes again and walked towards me, tucking her pen
above her ear.  I could hear her massive thighs rubbing together as she
walked, and I could have sworn I smelt the odor of burning polyester.

“So, what’ll it
be?”  She asked.  I again looked around her to the cabinets of
personnel files,
then
I looked into her eyes and
smiled. 

“
Dunlowe
comma
Simon,
and
Scribbs
comma Ida.”

A trip to the
library after Town Hall proved semi-useful.  I remember a day when the
library used to be a quiet, purposeful place to visit.  Nowadays, card
catalogs have gone the way of the dodo bird to make way for fancy-pants
computers and high-tech doodads.  “Can I help you with something, sir?” A
pretty young woman asked me, probably realizing that I had circled the library
three times in search of a microfilm machine. 
“A what?”
 
She said.  I was at first offended, thinking that the young snob was
making a crack about my age.  I quickly saw that the confusion in her eyes
was genuine.

“I want to search
through old newspaper clippings.  A microfilm machine lets you do
that.  Do you have a machine like that?”  I said, not trying to sound
too condescending.

“Oh, yes!” She said,
excited that she could help the befuddled old man.  “Please follow
me.”  She turned and headed towards a room full of computer screens.

“Let me guess,” I
said as we walked.  “You have a time machine in here that will let me go
back and buy the paper I’m looking for.”  She turned to me and
smiled. 
Silly old man
my little voice said.  She stopped at
the door to the computer room and pointed to an empty chair.

“It’s very
easy.  Just click on the title of the publication you’re looking for, and
when your browser comes up, type your search text into the applicable
field.”  I stood beside her, staring into her eyes and not moving a
muscle.

“Did I just have a
stroke?”  I asked.  Her eyes opened wider.  “I didn’t understand
a damn thing you said.”  She grabbed my hand and led me into the room.

“I’m sorry, I’ll try
again.  Just click on the title of the publication
th
-”

“Listen, young
lady,” I said cutting her off.  There was another man in the room with us,
typing away as we walked in.  I suddenly realized that I was no longer
hearing the rhythmic sounds of keyboard clicks.  “Fine, you can listen
too,” I blurted out, and he jumped a little in his chair, and then started
typing again.  “I’m old compared to you, and I’m cantankerous and in a hurry. 
I’ve already written down what I’m looking for,” I held out a folded slip of
paper I took from Shirley’s pad back at Town Hall.  “Can you find anything
on these people for me?”  The young lady fidgeted and then gazed outside
at the other patrons in the building.

“I’m sorry, sir, but
there are others who need my
attent
-”

“
There’s
twenty-five big ones in it for you,” I said, plastering a huge smile on my
face.  “Come on, help an old man.”  She looked out the door again,
then
looked at my outstretched hand.  She took the slip
of paper, unfolded it and nodded.

As the young woman
sat down and began to point and click away, I stood behind her, gently thumbing
a quarter in my pocket.

My mind had wondered
as I stood there waiting.  The humming of the computer in that hot little
room had a hypnotic effect, and I found myself reminiscing back to my dream,
the one I had a few days before.  Charlie
Billington
had just turned up the walk to his house and I pressed forward in the
moist
spring air towards home.
 
Six more houses, always six more houses
after Charlie left.  I walked on, kicking a piece of glass in the street
along with me, when my eye caught something sitting in the grass nearby. 
Something tiny and black and very keen to a young boy’s eyes.
 
I bent down and poked it with a finger.  I felt the fur on my fingertips
and took a step back.  I poked it again, a little harder. It rocked back
and then settled in the grass again.  “Dead,” I said aloud.  I
grabbed the furry thing and shoved it into my pocket, alongside three bits of
string, a rubber band, a nickel, a bubblegum wrapper and a blue
shoelace.   Today had been a good day.

I got home and
could smell mom’s sauce instantly upon my entry.  The whole house was
filled with the smells are mom’s triumph over the culinary arts.  I threw
my coat over a chair at the kitchen table and hugged my mom from behind as she
stirred something in a pot on the stove.  “Wash up,” she had said. 
“You’re just in time.”  I did as I was told and headed for the bathroom. 
Moments later, I heard my mother scream in terror, and something heavy hit the
floor.  I rushed back to the kitchen to see this name here I can’t read
this name.  What?  What?

“I’m sorry,
what?”  I said aloud, remembering where I really was.

“I can’t read this
name here, Carol something,” the young woman said.  “It is Carol, isn’t
it?”

“
Sykora
.
 
Sykora
is the name,” I answered, and kneeled with squinted
eyes to check the other names on the list.  “And that one there is
Trago
with a T.”

“Got
it!”
She said, and spun around
perkily in her chair to face the screen again.

It is Carol,
isn’t it?
  What a familiar ring
that had. 
It is Carol, isn’t it?  It is Carol, isn’t it?
 
As I repeated the phrase in my head, the voice saying it began to change. 
First it was my own voice, my own Little Reevan regurgitating the same phrase
over and over. 
It is Carol, isn’t it?
  Then it was the young
woman in the library.  Then it was Carol.  Then it was Emily. 
Then it was…“Damn it!”  The young woman jumped in her chair. 

“Excuse me!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, not
you.  I have to run an errand I just remembered.  Can you have this
ready for me by the time I get back?”

“Sure, I’m almost
done.”

“Really?
  That’s great,” I said, genuinely impressed.

“Well, actually, the
user-friendly search engine installed on a superior processor makes it very
easy to fi-”

“Oh jeez, I’m having
another stroke,” I blurted out.  Her smile turned to a straight slit above
her chin.

“Just go,” she
said.  I smiled and headed for my car.

I pulled up to a
house a few minutes later that was unlike any I had ever seen.  A
relatively tiny house stood far back from the road, covered in brush and trees
of all colors and creeds.  It was truly remarkable, and I knew I was in
the right place.

I knocked on the
door and what sounded like a pack of wolves began growling from the other
side.  Then they barked, and I heard nails scratching against the
door.  Somewhere inside the house, a tiny voice was saying “Company’s
coming!  Company’s coming!”

The barking grew
louder, and I stepped away from the door, sure the beasts inside were going to
break free and chew my legs off at the knees.  All of a sudden, a powerful
commanding voice screamed “Heel!” The barking stopped, the scratching stopped,
and I think my heart even skipped a beat or two.  “Get lost!”  The
voice roared, and I took another step back. 
Oh, great.  You
disturbed some hermit mountain man and now he’s going to kill you and use your
skull for an ashtray
.  Before I knew what to do, the door opened and a
woman I recognized stepped out.  “I wasn’t talking to you, I was talking
to them,” she said, and pointed into her home at three very large dogs sitting
quietly, eyeing me eyeing them.  “How did you find me?”

“Personnel file,” I
said, heart rate returning to what passes for normal these days. 
“
Gotta
love those public records!”
 
The woman smiled.

“Please, come
in.  You’re welcome anytime.”

“Thank you, Carol,”
I said, and stepped inside.

“Do you know why I’m
here?” I asked Carol, standing in her living room surrounded by her very large
dogs.  Off in the corner a colorful bird in a cage whistled and then told
me to take a seat, so I did.

“Got
a clue or two.
  Friend of
mine was doing some shopping near
Dunlowe
Caterers a
little while ago.  Said you and Sheriff Tuttle busted the punks that
killed my boss.  That true?”  He words were flat and emotionless, as
if they came out of a typewriter instead of a person

“Seems so,” I
shrugged.  “But he wasn’t just your boss, was he Carol?”  Carol sat
beside me on the dog hair-covered sofa.  I couldn’t shake the feeling she
was about to punch me, and I remembered how she was almost unstoppable when she
lunged for Dennis
Trago
.  I had to tread lightly
if I didn’t want to wear false teeth for the rest of my life.