"I put the water on to boil and laid out cups and sugar and creamer with a jar of instant coffee. Sorry I didn't have time to brew some real coffee." Terry stated as she rushed past Stretch on her way to the tiny bathroom. "I took a couple of Valiums last night cause I was real nervous about this job and I guess they zonked me out."
"Don't worry about a thing Terry, we have plenty of time." Stretch managed to squeeze out with a shortness of breath as he watched his cousin squeeze past him wearing nothing more than a very pleasant smile. "We have all the time in the world."
Stretch tapped the fingers of his left hand to the beat of the song on the car's CD player on the leather-covered steering wheel as he drove down the interstate. His mind kept recalling visions of his cousin's lovely body. He was really pleased with himself that he had stayed in total control, especially when he could hear her singing to herself in the shower with the door wide open. The steam had rolled out the doorway along with the pleasant scent of her shampoo. He could feel the hardness in his loins but he resisted the temptation of making a fool of himself. He knew his cousin was a big showoff and if he had tried anything, she would shut him down quickly. He was thankful that he had spent most of the money Frank had sent him and a lot of the money he had gotten from the dancing queen on prostitutes. He had been very horny after all the time in prison but he had managed to satisfy most of his cravings on bought for stuff. Still, his cousin sure looked good with or without clothes.
Stretch pulled off the interstate into the first rest area after they crossed the state line into Kentucky. He reached behind him and pulled the road atlas off the back seat. "I'm going to see exactly where we're going Terry, I haven't been to Long Neck Luther's place in a couple of years so I have to refresh my memory. You can stretch your legs for awhile if you like."
"Thanks, but when I come back I want you to tell me how you pulled that great con on that old lady that thought she could dance."
Stretch laid the atlas back on the seat after studying the route he was going to take and got out for a few minutes to smoke a cigarette. He was just grinding the butt into the ground with his heel when Terry walked up.
"Ok sport, tell me how you won over the blue-haired old lady."
They both set down on the front seat and Stretch began explaining how easy it was to take advantage of lonely people.
"The whole idea was Frank's," Stretch began. "All I had to do was modify it a little bit." He told her how he had approached several women with the idea that they were great dancers and a couple were skeptical of his plans and one was gung ho but she was leaving for the west coast in a week to visit he son in California. He finally found the right pigeon in the fifth dance club he had visited and reeled her in like a hungry fish. He had told her that word couldn't get out that she was becoming a charter member because her friends would think that she had bought her title so everything had to be done under the table including her membership fees. She had quickly passed him five thousand dollars cash under the table at the restaurant they had met at that night and she had squeezed his hand under the table and whispered thank you. He had told her it was her talent not his acknowledgement of it and that he should be thanking her but, she had said no, it wasn't the dance thing. It was because he was being so nice to a lonely old lady. He had tried to reassure her that it was her ability but, she had shushed him. He had written out an itinerary that would begin in six weeks and she would then start showing off her new crown. He walked out of the restaurant feeling pretty glum because he had a strong gut feeling that she knew that it was a big con but, she was lonely and liked the attention of the younger man. The feeling lasted about a block until the weight of the envelope with five thousand dollars in it pressed heavily against his suit coat and he greedily pulled it out and fanned it in front of his face.
"That's quite a story Stretch. You and Frank sure can set up a good scheme if you put your mind to it. I sure this job in Florida will work just as well. Oh, by the way. I'm sorry I teased you so bad back at my house. You must be furious with me. I so used to using men all my life I couldn't help myself when the opportunity arose to show off my body knowing you just got out of prison. I tell you what. I know we're cousins but blood relations have never meant anything to me. I will show you a really good time after we finish this job in Florida. Just the two of us will go off together for a couple of weeks and it will be a time I don't think you ever will forget. Friends?"
June 12, Thursday 4:22 p.m.
Behind the marina office
Francis Bartholemew Franklin III. walked slowly towards the water’s edge and stared piercingly at the green mallard swimming lazily in meandering circles around the end of the concrete and cypress dock. Bart, as he was better known, wondered just how tasty the feathered fowl would be. If it would just swim a little closer to shore. The duck was just cautious enough not to come any closer but splashed a bit of water with its feet in a seemingly teasing manner.
Bored, but not intimidated, Bart proudly turned his head and stared back at the white rear wall of the marina office. The bait tank, with its air compressor humming noisily in the afternoon breeze was kind of out of place against the gleaming new wall of the office but it was a necessary piece of equipment for those die-hard bass fisherman who demanded fresh live shiners every morning. This interruption of decor meant absolutely nothing to Bart, who could really care less. It was the buzzing of the compressor that brought memories of sleepless nights when hoards of mosquitoes were relentless in their pursuit of a blood feast meal. Those nights were long gone though since Otis and Bart had moved into the new marina apartment. The comfortable little apartment was just big enough for the two of them and was a far cry more plush than their shack had been on the banks of the old river. Yes, Bart was quite happy in his new home and all the people that visited the marina were really nice, especially that Jeff Finley, who with his son Todd always had a kind word and a little snack for Bart.
The woods, gleaming greenly in the afternoon haze, seemed like a cooling retreat from the overhead summer sun and Bart decided to spend the afternoon meandering around the tall shady trees instead of taking his usual afternoon nap. The birds, squirrels and other small creatures kept the forest alive with sounds and occasionally, a deer would wander towards the edge of the woods. That was always a thrill for Bart, to catch a glimpse of a doe or buck or even sometimes a weak legged little fawn. The adrenaline rush he received from seeing a deer would stand the hair up on the back of his neck and the primitive instincts would come alive causing a real blood rush. That was what life was all about anyways. The breaking of the normal boring routine made living really worthwhile.
Entering the woods where he usually did, Bart sensed something was not like it always was. He didn’t really know what was changed but there was strangeness about the woods he had never before experienced. Looking past the limestone boulder that marked the entrance to his usual path Bart noticed a hole about three feet in diameter that was decidedly fresh. The smell of damp earth evaded his nostrils not unlike that of a fresh grave. Bart never had smelled a fresh grave or had any knowledge of what a fresh grave even was still; he knew this was totally different. Walking over to the edge of the new hole, he stuck his head over the edge and tried to peer downward but only blackness met his eyes. The strange thing was a slight breeze was, coming out of the seemingly bottomless hole. Bart, never one to give much thought to anything let out a slight yelp and trotted quickly out of the woods. The shade of the big oak tree on the side of the marina office sounded like a much nicer place to take a nap and Bart decided he would let somebody else worry about the strange going ons in the woods. It wasn’t his job to worry about anything. All he had to do was protect Otis from any mean strangers and lie peacefully in the shade. After all a dogs life wasn’t really that hard.
June 12, Thursday 4:30 p.m.
Town of Forest Glenn
"Excuse me sir. Do you know where I ca
n find a Mr. Calvin Wilkins? I heard at the courthouse that he might be here and I heard he is an authority on this area."
The bartender looked up from his methodical task of glass washing; to him it seemed a never-ending chore, into a pair of very violet colored eyes. The blonde standing on the other side of the counter was a definite keeper. On a scale of one to ten she, in his opinion rated a fourteen. Slightly tongue tied for a moment he gradually regained his composure and replied in a, what he thought, was a very sexy voice.
"Yes ma'am. I know where you can kind Mr. Falvin Wilkins. I er mean I know where you can find Mr. Calvin Wilkins. He's sitting in the last booth over there. The old man with his head down. By the way, everyone around here calls him Pops, Pops Wilkins. Oh, if you want to talk to him, which I imagine is why you're here. I would suggest bringing him a ginger and rye. That'll lubricate his vocal chords real well."
"Thank you very much Mr. Oh, I'm sorry I didn't catch your name."
"It's Stanley T. Brown, proprietor of this modern sanctuary of spirits, the "Brown Spot." Supplier of the finest wines and liqueurs in this part of the south. Your business is my pleasure."
"Well, Mr. Brown thank you again. I'd like to purchase a drink for Mr. Wilkins and a very dry vodka martini for myself."
"That's great. I'll bring them over to the table for you so, you can go ahead and visit with Pops. I'll be just a minute."
The three men seated at the bar and Stanley T. Brown watched the blonde as she walked toward the table. Not until she had leaned over and shook Calvin Wilkins shoulder, spoke softly in his ear and seated herself across the table from him, did the four pairs of eyes return to their original forward positions and resume their interrupted conversation.
"Mr. Wilkins. I'm Marcia Meadows of channel ten. Perhaps you've seen me on TV.
I do special interest stories on Monday nights right after the six o'clock newscast."
“Well, can't say if I've ever seen you Miss Meadows. I don't get on watching the boob tube much except that fishing show on Satiddy. Me and Butch McCoy and Samuel Booker all gather around that high fluent'in big screen old Mac installed in his sundry store and get a big kick out of watchin them city folk try to catch'em a big ol largemouth. Now that's some fun seein those idiots with their high-priced gadgets keep missin what we've been catchin on crickets and night grubs for years."
"I guess that would be very entertaining Mr. Wilkes but, what I would like to find out from you is the local color around here for the past forty years or so. I have heard that if anyone knows what goes on in Forest Glenn it’s Mr. Wilkins, the local historian. The reason I want to know more about the area is because I'm doing a feature on the grand opening of the new resort and I'd like to know what kind of impact it will have on the surrounding area and its inhabitants. Also what the local people feel about taking over cow country and citrus groves in a nice rural setting and transforming it into a tourist attraction almost overnight."
"Well, I guess I'll be able to help you out Miss Meadows, but please call me Pops."
"Okay Pops, but please call me Marcia and you will be quite reimbursed for your help."
"Shoot Marcia, an old man like me can't keep his mouth shut and gettin paid for it whoee! Now, where do you want to start?"
The bar began filling up with the Thursday night crowd that began arriving at about four thirty and lasted till a little after two a.m. There was a large mixture of people, from factory workers to yuppie stockbrokers. Stan Brown treated them all the same. They had money to spend. They spent it. They left. Simple as that. Now though, there was another factor involved. A gorgeous blonde that Stanley T. Brown just had to have. But, how was the question. In the meantime the gorgeous blonde was still interviewing Calvin, the Pops, Wilkins.
"Ok Pops, why don't you start when you were a kid growing up in the small community of Forest Glenn. What were your dreams and hopes and what do you think of someone building a tourist trap where you used to run and play as a kid."
"I guess I'll start at the beginning and we'll see how interested you really are after I tell you about my childhood. I grew up in these here parts but they weren't known as Forest Glenn back in those days. This whole area was known as Walker's Prairie, after the Walker family. They settled in this area in the late eighteen hundreds from some place up north. Old Tim Walker was a real smart businessman from what I heard and he had thousands of acres of cattle land and thousands of cattle to go on them. He cleared out many of the woods in the area and put in a very large citrus crop. He was still very prosperous when I was a kid but then the great depression hit. He had his hand in too many pots from what I heard and everything came crashing down on him. There wasn't no big tall buildings to jump out of like they did up north so he hanged himself from a water oak down by the old creek bed. Well, I was still in short breeches at the time but that put one hell of a damper on this town. He was holdin the mortgage on damn near every farm in the area and when he bit the big one, everyone was shakin in their boots cause they figgered some big bank would take over the papers and everybody would have to skedaddle when it foreclosed on them. Well, lo and behold. his widder Sarah Jane turned out to be a Godsend. She called a town meeting and told all the local folk that everyone was safe in their homes and she would be holdin the papers and to pay her whenever they could. The townspeople were so happy that a nice lady like Sarah Jane would help them save their lives they decided to make the town a legal place and for a name they decided they would reward the nice widder by naming it partially after her first born Glenn David. That's how we got the name Forest Glenn and by God, everybody thought it was a real pretty name so it just stuck being legalized and all."
Pops Wilkins picked up his glass and drained the rest of the rye and ginger the bartender had brought over and wiped the back of his sleeve on his mouth.
"Well Miss Marcia, I'm kinda runnin at the mouth ain't I."
"Don't be silly Pops, You’re doing just fine. I think, you are a very interesting individual and I'm enjoying your story very much so, please continue."
Marsha Meadows held up two fingers to the bartender and he shook an enthusiastic ok not unlike the head of a plastic dog in the rear window of a fifties automobile.
"Well, where was I? Oh yeah, the town recovered and after WWII families started moving in the area. The builders back in those days could throw up a house in no time and the land was really cheap back then. Well, the Walker widder moved to New Jersey to be with her son and his family and the citrus groves and cattle lands just kinda died off over the years. Then this Jap fellow came in the picture and secretly bought all the old Walker property before anybody really knew what was happenin. When he announced his plans to build this big resort and put in an artificial lake I thought the town was going to blow its top off. You never heard such bitchin in your life. The townsfolk said it would ruin their nice little hometown atmosphere and people would be traipsing back and forth and ruinin whatever peace and quiet there was. It didn't matter much to me cause I had already growned up by then and my huntin days in the area where he was plannin to build was long over. I guess I was a little saddened by the thought of all those beautiful woods being torn down but, he assured everyone that he was only building and puttin in the lake where there was cow fields and old orange trees. The funny thing is though right where he built that enormous motel-lodge or whatever, was the biggest cave I ever yet to see. I discovered it one day when a fox I wounded with my twenty gauge Ithaca shotgun was running across an old cattle field loaded with limestone rocks when it suddenly disappeared right before my eyes. I knew that fox was soon for fox heaven but I didn't think that God just up and grabbed them like that. Well, I walked over to where I knew that fox was last at and there right in front of my eyes was a hole about the size of a manhole right in the middle of this field. I looked down but couldn't see nothin but black. I went back into town looking for my best friend Izzy. He's been dead nigh onto ten ye
ars now, liver disease they said. From all that drinkin I imagine. Well anyhow, we went back to that hole with a couple of lanterns and a heavy-duty rope and decided to see what was up. Well, we tied that rope around one of those big old rocks and started shimming down that rope into that big black hole like a couple of monkeys. I was kinda scared but I didn't let ol Izzy know that, even though he was probably pissin his pants about then. We went down, I would guess a little more than fifty feet and reached solid rock. Right in front of our eyes was that fox, deader than a goose, layin at our feet. We walked around some and it looked like a subway tunnel down there. I wasn't much for exploring that far down in the ground so we didn't stay very long but, we did see somethin mighty interesting before we climbed back up. Well, we heard it to. About ten feet from where we had set our feet down there was a stream runnin pretty fast in that cave. Stream hell, it was more like a miniature river. We decided that underground life wasn't for us so; we got out of there. I didn't think much about that hole again but, one evenin, right at dusk, I was walkin on the edge of that pasture. Hurrying home before it got totally dark when, I saw a big black cloud coming out of the ground about where that hole was. I didn't know what it was at first and then I figured out it was bats, thousands of them, coming out of their roost in that cave. That's the last time I ever thought of that hole again until now, and that dumb foreigner built a building right on top of it. I know I got off the original story again. Anyway, the Jap must have put some money in the right pockets because the next thing you know is, the resort is built and the town doesn't say much about it any more."
"Pops, I think that was a fantastic story and I'm sure I'll be able to use quite a bit of it in my program Monday night. As I said, you will be rewarded greatly for your contribution and I wish you the best of luck in the future. I am going out to the resort Saturday and I'll definitely look at that place with a whole different frame of mind. Thank you again."