Chapter 4: He Ain’t From Around Here
Roxy returned the next Friday evening with her boyfriend, Jim Rainbolt, a photographer at the company she worked at before becoming a writer on the staff of Adventuress magazine in Akron. Clare had made up the spare room for them. An old lady named Caroline had lived with and kept house for Aunt Del for ages until she retired and went to live with relatives, not long before Del died, but so far Clare had not hired anyone to clean. There was dust. But she installed a dishwasher, and a modern washer and dryer to replace Caroline’s wringer washer and clotheslines, and was fairly comfortable.
“Come on in and put those bags down anywhere. Put your feet up,” Clare said. “Did you have supper?”
“Oh, yeah, don’t worry about us.”
“How about a drink? Irish coffee? You can relax and stay awake at the same time. And you don’t have to worry about getting up early.”
“That sounds good,” Jim said.
“Me too,” Roxy added.
“Me too,” Clare said, and went into the kitchen to get the drinks. “No, stay there, I’ll get it.”
They relaxed and caught up with news about people they knew in common.
“Oh, I ran into Ed Bennett downtown,” Roxy said. “He asked about you. Or rather about the store. Or rather what I knew about the store, like where you get your stock.”
“You know nothing.”
“Of course.”
“What does he care anyway? It’s not his kind of thing. He likes older things, usually, and more expensive things.”
“Maybe he’s not doing so well and wants to branch out. Anyway I told him we were coming down for the Memorial Day weekend festivities, and that I’m doing another story, and he sounded like he might come down and stop in the store again.”
“Oh well. I don’t care as long as he doesn’t get mad again because he can’t find out anything.”
“Do you suppose I can get a photo of the mysterious Jackson?” asked Jim, with a wry expression. He wasn’t convinced that there was anything odd about the Sears catalogue merchandise even though there was no logical explanation for it. He just decided there must be one, and left it at that.
“Well, I did send in an order the other day. He could show up tomorrow. I’ve never tried to take a picture of him. Maybe he won’t appear on film!” Clare said with a laugh. “Or maybe he just won’t want his picture taken.”
“I won’t ask.”
“Is that legal?”
“If he’s on the street in public, uh, sure.”
“Maybe he’s really a criminal and doesn’t want to be identified,” Roxy suggested.
“Well, that would explain some things. But not everything,” Clare said.
They heard a car drive by and slow down in front of the house, then speed up and drive off.
“Huh, maybe that’s him,” Clare said.
“Don’t you worry, living out here by yourself?” Roxy asked. “I mean, there’s not another house within sight.”
“Well, no. I’m usually too tired to worry. And Aunt Del lived here alone, at least just with Caroline, and they never had any problems. That I know of.”
“You might get a security setup for the house, and buy a gun. Take a concealed carry class.”
Clare looked startled. “It never occurred to me.”
“Well, I did. My dad suggested it, after all t he stuff that happened with the cloning business,” Roxy said.1
“Oh yeah?”
“I agree,” Jim said. “You should consider it.”
“I’ll think about it. We can look through the Sears catalogues for guns.”
Clare fixed breakfast the next morning, over Roxy’s objections.
“We’ll have lunch at the cafe, and who knows about supper. But you know it’s just some bacon and eggs. Or cereal if you prefer. I don’t like to eat every meal out, so just relax,” Clare said. “This is like cross-training. I do stuff at the store and I do different stuff at home.”
They drove the few miles to town, where Clench Bargo was waiting for her.
Clare unlocked the front door to the store.
Clench was wearing his deputy uniform and badge. “I’m on duty for the weekend,” he said, “but I just thought I’d check in and see if you need me to do anything. Anything real quick, that is.”
“No, that’s OK. I’ve got a couple of the other guys coming in for the holiday weekend in case we get extra busy, so we’re good. And we’re not opening early, we’ll open at noon as usual. But thanks for asking. It’s … reassuring to know you’ll be around.”
“OK then.”
“Let’s go look in the basement. The Cellar,” Clare said to Roxy and Jim. “And maybe you guys can go through the catalogues with me and help me pick out display cabinets. And a gun.”
Clench looked startled. Clare explained, “We aren’t going to sell guns, I just think I’ll get one for protection. At home. I don’t think we need one at the store, do you?”
“No, I guess not. Me and Sheriff Matheson give concealed carry classes. If you’re interested.”
“Yeah, maybe. Keep me posted, and I’ll … keep you posted.”
Clench walked out, and Clare, Roxy, and Jim took the creaky old elevator down to the lower level, where the walls had been painted but the floor was still needed to have the old polish stripped.
“Isn’t he starting a winery?” Roxy asked.
“Yeah, with his dad, on their farm. And he’s a part-time deputy. He’s like those old-timers, like my grandpa, who did a little of everything, besides farming. Horse-shoeing and blacksmithing and making tools, building houses, selling nursery stock, digging wells, justice of the peace. One of my grandpas even owned a small coal mine and let the neighbors dig out their own coal for a small price or for trade.”
The rest of the day was busy with customers (Clare at The Rag and Bone Shop), photos (Jim, all over), and interrupting people to ask questions (Roxy, all over). Most people didn’t mind the photos and questions, although one young man pulled his hoodie over his face and ran away from Jim’s camera in front of the shop.
“Who’s that?” Jim asked Clare, who was near the front door.
“No idea. He ain’t from around here, as those who are from around here say. At least as far as I know, but I don’t know everyone, of course. I didn’t get a close look but he doesn’t look familiar. Maybe one of the Mexican field hands?”
“I wonder where he went. And why he’s wearing a hoodie. Kind of hot for it. I got a photo but not a full shot of his face.”
“Hmm. Well, maybe I should get a print and hang it in the window.”
“Why would you do that?”
“I dunno. Just to be friendly. Maybe he’ll be back. Was he coming into the store, do you think?”
“Could have been, till I pointed the camera.”
“I don’t usually open on Sundays or Mondays, but because of Memorial Day weekend I’ll be open. Maybe he’ll be back. If you’ll be here all weekend, stick around and see if he returns. You won’t be so conspicuous if you’re in the store or in the cafe across the street.”
“OK.”
“I wonder if I should tell the sheriff.”
“Well, he didn’t do anything. Just acted suspicious.”
“You know what they say, if you see something, say something.”
“Do they say that?”
“Yeah.”
When they told Roxy about it, she said maybe he knew about the bottles of opium and cocaine tonics in the back.
“I don’t know how he would. I certainly don’t advertise it, and don’t even unload it around the staff,” Clare said. “I keep it locked up. And I’m not going to tell the sheriff about them.”
On Sunday there was no sign of the escaped evader, as Roxy named him, near the store, but there was some excitement around noon when the sound of a police siren filled the central square. Clare, Roxy, and Jim rushed to the door but didn’t se
e the sheriff’s car, only heard it from the alley that ran behind the buildings on the main drag. It sounded like the car was picking up speed and heading toward the end of the street that met a crossroad heading out of town.
“Hmm, maybe you guys can ask around and find out something,” Clare said. “I have to open up.”
Jim and Roxy ran outside, jumped into their car, and followed the siren, with Roxy driving so Jim would be able to take photos. But they really didn’t have the heart or other parts for a lengthy high-speed chase, and didn’t want to get in trouble with the sheriff either for interfering and further endangering the public. They slowed down but kept going down, and saw the sheriff’s car turn onto a state highway heading north, still at high speed. It wasn’t long before they were too far behind to be worth continuing, so Roxy turned the car around and went back to town.
They parked in front of the store and met Clench Bargo, who was talking on his police radio. Clare came to the door to listen. As soon as Clench finished on the radio (he really did say “10-4”), Roxy asked, “What was that all about? We heard the siren and followed the sheriff’s car for a ways — well, we didn’t speed — but he was following another car and ended up going north and then we got too far behind so we came back.”
“The sheriff saw somebody messing around the back of the bank, and when the guy saw him, he ran off and got in his car and drove away. Fast.”
“Did he actually break into the bank?”
“No. It’s not that easy.”
“What did he look like?”
“I didn’t see him, but Sheriff Matheson said he was a young male, dark hair, kind of tan looking, wearing a gray hoodie.”
“That sounds like the guy who ran away when I tried to take his picture right here, just before the store opened!” Jim explained what happened.
“Well, maybe you could give us the picture. E-mail it. The sheriff got his license plate number but once he gets to the next county we can’t follow him. He reported it to the state police, though.”
“I’d like to find out who he is, if possible. I guess it will be reported in your local paper?”
“Uh, I don’t know. Maybe you could write up a paragraph since you actually followed him a piece, and you’ve got a photo. I’ll introduce you to the editor.”
“Great!”