Ben Soul

Dickon, maybe more than half on my part. I just don’t know, yet, how far I’m ready to go with this.”

  “That’s a relief. I’m interested, too, but unsure. Maybe we should spend a little more time together.”

  “Yes, I’d like that.”

  “Do you like Thai food?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “I know a nice little place in Pueblo Rio. Maybe this Saturday?”

  “Yes, that sounds good. What time?”

  “I’ll come by a little after six.”

  “Okay.”

  “And now, Butter, I’d better go. May I trouble you to get off my lap?” Butter looked at him with mournful eyes. “I’ll come back some time, and you can sit on me longer.” Butter continued to look at Dickon with mournful eyes.

  “Butter, down!” Ben said. She got down, and stood right in front of Dickon stretching herself. He laughed, and rubbed her behind her ears. Then he got up and stepped over her.

  “Thank you, Ben, for dinner. You cook well, an excellent skill in a sexy man.” Dickon kissed his cheek. “Until Saturday, then.”

  “Until Saturday,” Ben said, and brushed Dickon’s cheek with his lips.

  “Good night,” Dickon said, and went out the door.

  “Good night,” Ben called after him.

  After he washed the dishes and put them away, he let Butter out for a night run. When she was done, he called her in to bed. She slept soundly. He woke two or three times, grinning, from his dreams. Dickon slept little. His conversation with Ben opened cupboards in his mind stuffed with his darker memories.

  Eviction Notice

  Ben answered the knock on his door. Butter danced with delight. Dickon stood on the porch. Ben, had he been a little less formal, would have danced with Butter.

  “Come in, Dickon,” he said, opening the screen. He stooped and grabbed Butter’s collar, so Dickon could enter unimpeded.

  “Hi,” Dickon said, and came in. “Sorry to break into your morning, but I thought I ought to warn you.”

  “Warn me?”

  “They’re coming.”

  “They?”

  “Vanna and the Deputy Sheriff. The cute one.”

  “Deputy Sharif?”

  “The same.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Harry Pitts told me a few minutes ago, when I was in the Café. He told me he heard Vanna insisting the Deputy serve papers on you. She thinks she can evict you.”

  Ben motioned toward a chair. “Have a seat,” he said. “I talked with a lawyer, at La Señora’s suggestion. Only La Señora can evict me, since it’s her property. The Coastal Commission has no jurisdiction here. Why would she even try?”

  “To get back at La Señora, maybe. Maybe just because she hasn’t screwed anybody around lately. Who knows? Who’s the lawyer?”

  “John Diss,” Ben said.

  “Oh, yes. Arthur I.’s boy. He’s good.”

  “When is Vanna supposed to be here?”

  “Any minute.”

  Butter could wait no longer. She leaped into Dickon’s lap and settled down. He began stroking her back. “Sorry I couldn’t give you more notice,” Dickon went on. “She’ll be pushing you with threats, or cajoling you with promises she won’t keep.”

  Ben heard footsteps on the path. Butter jumped from Dickon’s lap, using his stomach as a launch pad. Dickon said “Oof!” Butter ran to the door and began barking with authority. Ben hushed her and waited for the knock. When it came, he held his breath a long moment, and then opened the door.

  DiConti Sharif stood there in his tailored uniform. Ben took a long look for the sheer pleasure of looking. Then he said, “Yes, Deputy?”

  “Are you Mr. Benjamin Dover Soul?”

  “I am.”

  “I have a notice of eviction to serve on you, sir.” Deputy Sharif was all formality and courtesy.

  “La Señora has not advised me I am behind in the rent or otherwise an undesirable tenant.”

  “Ms. Mandor is not the complaining party in this action,” the Deputy said. “This notice is served on behalf of the Coastal Commission.”

  “According to my attorney, John Diss, the Commission and its officers have no standing to request my eviction.”

  “That, sir, is a matter for the courts. I’m only required to hand you the notice, and inform the other parties to it that I have served you.”

  “All right, then,” Ben said. He opened the screen door and went out on the porch to take the paper. Butter slipped out and ran down the path to the gate. She stood at the gate and growled a low long growl. Her tail switched back and forth in slow motion as she pointed her nose at the right side of the gate. She flattened her ears against her skull. Vanna stood motionless in the cypress shade that covered the gate.

  “Come, Butter,” Ben called. Deputy Sharif put the papers in his hand. Ben took them, still calling Butter. Butter ignored him. She knew evil when she smelt it. Vanna kept the fence between herself and Butter.

  Dickon came out to see what was going on. “Hello, Deputy,” he said.

  “Hello, Mr. Shayne.”

  “Butter, come here!” Ben commanded. Butter looked at him over her shoulder and whined. “Come, I said, right now!” She turned reluctantly, and came to the porch. “Sit! Stay!” Ben said. Butter sat, facing the gate, next to Ben. She continued to growl. Dickon sauntered down the path toward the gate.

  “Why, hello, Vanna,” he said. “Don’t trust the Sheriff’s department to do your dirty work without supervision?”

  “You are still drawn to trouble, I see, Dickon, like flies to dung,” she said. Ben could see the angry glitter in her eyes. He thought of a coiled cobra.

  “You drew me, once upon a time, Vanna.” Dickon’s voice was quiet.

  “You are the same maddening boy you’ve always been, Dickon Shayne. One day you will get your comeuppance.”

  “You’re wrong to be here, Vanna. Ben hasn’t done anything wrong. It’s only your obsession with those birds that brings you. You need a shrink, Vanna. You always have.”

  A panther’s snarl could not be more vicious than the furious twist that contorted Vanna’s face. Ben guessed this to be an old insult that struck deep at Vanna’s vanity. He was unprepared for Vanna’s next move. She opened the gate and punched Dickon in the stomach. Her fury and natural strength doubled the poor man over. Butter lunged for Vanna. Vanna scooped up a stone and tossed it at Butter, narrowly missing her. Ben had had enough.

  “Ms. Dee, leave my residence. You are not invited,” he said, advancing on her. She aimed a kick at Dickon’s shins. “Deputy, escort her away.”

  DiConti moved toward Vanna. This sort of scene depressed him. Butter tried to nip Vanna’s ankle. She kicked at her, narrowly missing. Ben ran down the path, DiConti racing beside him.

  “Don’t do anything rash, Mr. Soul,” DiConti said. Dickon had fallen to his knees. Vanna’s right knee, aimed for where Dickon’s groin had been, cracked on his chin. It hurt her as much as it hurt him, and she staggered back to lean against the fence, panting heavily. Her left shoe stuck to Butter’s most recent offering. It was still soft, and most malodorous. Butter had shared Brussels sprouts with Ben the night before. Her step had gone into the pile with such force it oozed up the sides of her pump and onto the nylon exposed by a cutaway.

  “Damned dog!” She looked about her, as if for something to throw.

  “Ms. Dee,” DiConti warned her, “cease and desist. This behavior doesn’t help your cause.” Slowly the berserker fury in Vanna’s eyes dimmed. Her ice showed.

  “You are a fool, Mr. Soul,” she grunted, “to consort with this faggot preacher. He’ll destroy you.”

  “Dickon is the right man for me, Vanna Dee, and way too much man for you,” Ben shouted at her. “I’ll consort with him, hell, I’ll be his consort, if he’ll have me, you malignant witch!”

  “On your head be it,” she
said, and turned her back on him to leave.

  Butter lunged at her again. Ben caught Butter’s collar in a lucky grab. “Don’t stain your teeth, Butter,” he said.

  “Deputy, escort me out of this place,” Vanna commanded. “I believe my life’s in danger.

  “Please do as she asks, Deputy,” Ben said. “I believe my life’s in danger, while she’s here.”

  DiConti nodded noncommittally at a neutral point between both speakers, and took Vanna’s elbow. Ben, still grasping Butter’s collar, took grim pleasure in watching Vanna favor her right knee and wince at the smell of her left foot as she limped away on the deputy’s arm. Ben went to the kneeling Dickon. Dickon’s eyes glazed. He still gasped.

  “Nod if you’re okay; shake your head if you’re not, Dickon.” Ben tried to keep his worry from his voice. He was not successful. Dickon slowly shook his head and groaned as he did so. He tumbled over onto his side in the grass. Ben trembled. His heart seemed to have invaded his throat to sit there, pulsing frantically.

  “I’ll get Dr. Field,” Ben said, and released Butter’s collar. “Stay, Butter, and guard Dickon,” he said. Butter stayed. Ben ran toward Dr. Field’s cottage.

  Ben Nurses Dickon

  Dickon was conscious when Dr. Field and Ben got to him. Dickon grimaced at Dr. Field as he performed his examination. Butter was licking Dickon’s ear, patiently, steadily. Ben hoped Butter’s solace was getting through to Dickon. When Dr. Field knelt down beside Dickon, Butter moved away, but stayed close enough to guard Dickon.

  Dr. Field carefully felt Dickon’s neck. “No broken bones,” Dr. Field said, “but Dickon’s going to have a mighty bruise on his chin. You say she kicked