Trent set his now-empty beer can on the small table beside his chair and stretched. “I need to get going. See you all in the morning?”
“Bright and early,” Barrett said.
“And once they get to school, I have a surprise,” Jack informed them.
Trent began laughing quietly. “Should they be afraid?”
“Oh, yeah. It’s going to be educational, but it’s also going to teach them how lucky they are to have all the electronic bells and whistles they’ve been abusing.”
“I like it,” Barrett said.
“Whatever it is, you have my support.”
“Thanks. Oh, before I go, either of you know which one of them came up with this brilliant plan to create the dual accounts? I was too mad to think about that when I was grilling Eli.”
“I asked Amari, but all I could get was name, rank, and serial number.”
“Guess it doesn’t really matter,” Barrett said. “They’re busted regardless.”
Jack was satisfied. He rose to his feet. “Good night, guys.”
They gave him good-nights in response. When he reentered his house, he felt much better
The sun was just getting up when Crystal, Amari, Preston, and Eli were let out of their parents’ trucks to begin their first morning of painting the Jefferson fence. They’d all brought their bikes along too, for the ride to school once they were done.
Trent stayed to help unload the gallons of whitewash, bags holding new brushes, tarps, and the rest of the items the painters would need, then tipped his hat and headed up the walk to visit with Marie for a minute before driving back to town.
Because Amari and Preston had done the fence before, they’d learned it was faster to work as a pair.
“Me and Amari’ll take this end,” Preston explained to Crys and Eli. “You two take the end way down there, and we’ll meet in the middle. One person paints inside, the other, outside.”
The novices nodded in agreement.
Amari pulled the new paint rollers out of a bag and grumbled, “And remember Ms. Marie expects us to clean up and stash everything in her barn before we leave.”
“Dad expects us to get to school on time, too,” Eli added.
Amari cursed. “What I want to know is how we got busted? Who told?”
Two denials came from Preston and Eli. Crystal said nothing.
Curious about that, Preston asked, “Crystal?”
She took one of the rollers from Amari. “Let’s just paint. I don’t want to be out here all day.”
“Hold up,” Amari declared. “Do you know how they found out? Yes or no?”
The three boys waited.
She blew out a breath. “If Ms. Bernadine hadn’t gotten that stupid call, Diego’s name never would’ve come up.”
Eli made the time-out sign with his hands. “Wait. What call? Diego called you?”
“No. Somebody called and threatened her life. I told her—”
Preston shook his head, “Back up. What are you talking about? Somebody threatened Ms. Bernadine’s life?”
For the next few minutes she explained about the call, and Mal escorting her home.
Preston found the story unbelievable. “What! How come they didn’t let us come to this meeting? Do they know who this person is?”
“Not yet.”
“That is so wrong on so many levels,” Eli said angrily. “She never hurt anybody.”
“I know,” she said. “I’m worried about her.”
Amari looked stunned. “Does this fool know how many people will kick his ass once we find out who he is?”
Preston replied, “Evidently not.”
“So what are the adults going to do?”
“She said Sheriff Will and his son in the FBI are looking into it.”
“Good,” Amari. “We need to keep an eye out, too.”
They were all silent for a moment as they digested the disturbing news. The town’s benefactor meant a great deal to all of them.
Eli said, “Now, back to Diego. How’s he figure into this?”
Crystal sighed. “I told Ms. Bernadine she needed to get a gun, because if anything happened to her, I didn’t know what I’d do.”
“And?”
“And I said, I might run off with Diego,” she added in a small voice.
Eli folded his arms. “And?”
“And then she started grilling me about had I talked to him, and I lied, and she asked me if I had two accounts, because she monitors my e-mails, and it went to hell from there.”
Eli threw up his hands in disbelief. “You having the hots for this loser is what got us busted?”
Amari shook his head. “Diego doesn’t care about you. You’re still in high school. He’s probably got women in every state.”
“Shut up!”
Preston sighed. “Okay, let’s start painting. We’re already behind.”
She grabbed a brush and stomped off.
Eli asked, “Why are girls so stupid?”
Amari grumbled, “We used to be able to blame it on that bad weave squeezing her brain too tight, but now it looks like she’s just stupid, period.”
While the boys painted and plotted Crystal’s demise, an excited Riley was driving his old white truck to the airport. FUFA president Heather Quinn was flying in at 7:00 A.M. to meet with him. During his phone call to her last weekend, she’d sounded interested in Cletus’s case, but she wanted to personally check out the lay of the land before making a final decision, so Riley hoped to make a good impression.
Now, wearing his black suit with the fake red carnation in the lapel, he stood in baggage claim, holding a piece of paper with her name written on it. He searched the faces of the few entering passengers and recognized her immediately. Just like on the television, she was short, thin, and mousy-looking, with oversize glasses on her nut-brown face.
“Mr. Curry?” She extended her hand.
He pumped it in greeting and grinned. “Yep. Welcome to Kansas, Ms. Quinn. Grab your bags, and we’ll go meet Cletus.” It never occurred to Riley to be a gentleman and offer assistance. In his mind, he was already introducing her to Cletus and imagining her being as impressed by the hog as he was. As a result, he missed the studied glance she gave him over the thick black frames.
Minutes later, he was in the driver’s seat, and she was placing her suitcase in the truck bed. When she got in on the passenger side, she sent him another look, but he was too busy telling her about how smart his hog was and all the tricks he could do. Once she had her seat belt secured, he kept up the chatter and guided them to the highway.
“So your hog killed a man?”
“But in self-defense. He didn’t like Prell hitting him with a table leg, and neither did I.”
“Did you explain this to the county?”
“Yes.” Riley didn’t know why she was asking these questions, when he’d already told her the story on the phone.
“And they still want to put him down?”
“Yes.”
“That doesn’t sound fair to me. Every sentient being has the right to defend itself when faced with violence.”
Riley didn’t know what the word sentient meant, but he wholeheartedly agreed with the rest of her statement. “You think FUFA can make them change their minds?”
“With the right publicity, we might.”
“Cletus is pretty famous on the Internet.”
“What do you mean?”
So Riley told her about Cletus’s wedding to Chocolate, and the resulting video of the event that went viral.
She stared. “The hog is married?”
“Yep. Had a minister and everything. Eustasia bought Chocolate a gown all the way from Europe, and Cletus and I wore matching tuxedos. Lots of Texas bigwigs were in the audience.”
“Is the video still up?”
“Far as I know.”
Heather shook her head in wonder. She’d met some odd characters in her six months as president, but he had to be in the top te
n. Heather had a real love of animals and had been a crusader on their behalf most of her adult life. It was her dream to make FUFA as well respected as PETA, instead of being thought of as a group of whackadoos, a label well earned considering its past actions and campaigns. One of its former presidents was currently serving time in a Canadian prison as a result of an ill-conceived operation. He and a few other members had broken into a mink farm facility and released a hundred or so of the animals out into the snowy Ontario countryside. Those that didn’t freeze to death were run over by traffic on a nearby road. The Canadians hadn’t been happy, and proved it by sentencing everyone involved to five years for breaking and entering, trespassing, and endangering animals. A more recent example of whackadooism was the cat sterilization debacle in Illinois. Although the case had been taken on before her watch, she was currently the president of record and thus forced to defend the organization’s ridiculous stance before the media. Heather wanted a top-of-the-line animal case that would propel FUFA to legitimacy. On the face of what Curry had told her on the phone, she’d thought his hog might be the golden ticket, but now, after meeting him, she wasn’t so sure. What kind of crazy people threw weddings for hogs and wore matching tuxedos?
Had Riley a lick of sense, he would’ve noticed she was paying more attention to the passing landscape than his tales of Cletus’s accomplishments, but he kept talking—telling her about Cletus’s extensive wardrobe, his love of Animal Planet, and Riley’s dreams for a sitcom.
That got her attention. “You want to put him on television?”
“Wait until you meet him, you’ll see. He was born for TV. Given the right agent and director, he could be bigger than that pig on Green Acres.”
Proud of himself for being the owner of such a stellar hog, he missed her sigh and the way she pinched her nose between her eyes, as if she had a headache coming on. “So are you married, Mr. Curry?”
“I’m divorced.”
“Do you think your ex-wife would be willing to testify for our side anyway?”
“No. She and Cletus don’t get along.”
“I see.”
Riley didn’t offer any further explanation, so she didn’t ask anything else.
They reached the pens a short time later, and he parked the truck in the gravel parking lot. They got out, and he led her onto the property. The complex consisted of a low-to-the-ground brick administrative building and a bunch of barns, behind which were the wooden pens for the animals. Riley watched the county veterinarian, a tall horse-faced woman with brown hair named Dr. Marnie Keegan, come out of the building and walk toward them with a plastered-on smile. He knew she didn’t like him visiting every day, but he didn’t care.
“Morning, Mr. Curry. Who’s that with you?”
Heather answered for him. “Heather Quinn. President of FUFA. Pleased to meet you.” She stuck out her hand.
Keegan gave Quinn a wary up-and-down during their shake. “Nice meeting you, too. What brings you to our neck of the woods?”
“Mr. Curry’s invited me to take a look at this case. If what he told me is true, I’d think you’d consider the animal’s state of mind during the death of Mr. Prell and see that he was simply trying to defend himself.”
Riley stood beside Heather, looking pleased as punch.
“He sat on a man and crushed him to death, ma’am.”
“I understand that, but what would you do if someone was beating you over the head with a table leg, Dr. Keegan?”
She didn’t appear to like the question. “My response has no bearing on this.”
“It will when our lawyer puts you on the stand.”
Keegan stiffened visibly.
“I’m a vet too, and we’re supposed to be advocates, especially for an animal subjected to physical abuse.”
Keegan crossed her arms. “Have you met the subject?”
“No, but that’s why I’ve come.”
“Follow me, then.”
She led them around to the fenced-in pen behind the barns, and as they came closer, Riley was surprised to see that Cletus had company. There looked to be a dozen or more hogs in with him. “When did these other hogs get here?”
“Late yesterday afternoon. County’s auctioning them off for back taxes.”
“Cletus doesn’t like other hogs around him. He likes his space.”
“He threw a bit of a tantrum at first, but he got over it.”
The moment Cletus saw Riley, the hog began squealing as if voicing his displeasure and trotted over. A larger hog, obviously another male, blocked his path. Cletus squealed louder.
“That hog’s bullying him,” Riley snapped angrily. “Move him back to a pen by himself.”
“They’re just vying for dominance. Happens all the time, and besides, we don’t have anywhere else to house him.”
“Ms. Quinn, do something.”
“Mr. Curry, if there isn’t room, there’s nothing I can do. I’m sure your hog will be fine.”
He turned to Keegan. “If anything happens to him, I’m suing you.”
“Noted,” she responded, but didn’t appear the least bit intimidated by the threat.
The big male finally let Cletus pass, and he made his way through the crowded pen to where the concerned Riley stood on the other side of the waist-high plank corral. “How you doing, boy? Those other hogs being mean to you?”
Cletus moved close enough to be petted and voiced his discontent.
“I know, big boy. I’m sorry. I want you to meet Ms. Heather. She’s going to get you out of here.”
Heather stepped to the fence. “Hello there, Cletus. How are you?” She reached over the wooden slats to pet him, and he snapped around and bit her hand. “Ow!”
Dr. Keegan hid her smile and said, “Hope your shots are up to date. I’ll get you a Band-Aid. Be right back.”
Heather stared down at the blood welling from the small break in the skin between her index finger and thumb. She eyed the hog angrily.
A dismayed Riley chastised his hog. “Cletus! Bad boy! I’m so sorry, Ms. Quinn. Must be the perfume you’re wearing. It sets him off. Used to bite Genevieve all the time.”
“I’m not wearing perfume.”
“Oh.”
“So he bites often?”
The pointed question made him hesitate. “Just if he smells perfume. Maybe it’s your shampoo or your soap.”
Riley saw the raw skepticism in her eyes and prayed she didn’t stomp off in a huff and fly home. He blamed Dr. Keegan. If she hadn’t put Cletus in with those other hogs, especially the bully, he wouldn’t be all upset. That had to be the reason he’d taken a plug out of Ms. Quinn’s hand. He gave Cletus a calming stroke across his broad back. “Being in with all that riffraff’s got you upset, hasn’t it? I’m so sorry, but we’re going to get you out if it’s the last thing we do, right Ms. Quinn?”
“We’ll see.”
Riley had hoped for a stronger affirmation, but he figured her hand was probably still hurting.
Dr. Keegan returned with some antiseptic wipes and a Band-Aid. Ms. Quinn doctored herself, and when she was done, Keegan asked, “Anything else you need, Ms. Quinn?”
“No.”
“Then I’m going to get back to work. Nice meeting you. See you in court.” Not bothering to hide her smirk, she strolled away.
After glaring at the hog one last time, Heather Quinn declared, “I’m ready to go to my hotel, Mr. Curry. ” And without a further word, she set out determinedly for his truck.
“Sure. Okay.” Riley gave Cletus a hasty good-bye and hurried off to catch up.
After dropping her at one of the motel chains on Highway 183, Riley drove home. Outside of her being bitten by Cletus, he thought this first meeting had gone well. He was a bit concerned that she hadn’t spoken a word on the way to the motel, though. Not even thank you when she got out of the truck. He figured she was just tired from all the jet lag.
Chapter 12
The We’re So Slick Gang, as Jack dubbe
d them, came dragging into the classroom ten minutes after school started. Paint-stained and tired, they looked a mess. “You guys are late.”
They answered with grumbles and took their seats. He noticed Leah staring at them as if they were aliens. Apparently she’d been unaware of last night’s parental firestorm, and he was glad to know that at least one of the teens in his class hadn’t been involved. The painters were just freeing themselves of their backpacks when he announced, “Those of you who are late are getting special assignments, term papers.”
Crystal’s cry of, “What!” merged with Eli’s “Dad!” Amari’s, “No!” and Preston’s, “Aw, man!”
Jack waited. When they were done griping, he continued, “The paper will be a minimum seven pages. You will not be allowed to use any electronics, so that means it’ll have to be handwritten, in cursive.”
Eyes widened all over the room. Even the ones who hadn’t been given the assignment stared aghast.
“You can use encyclopedias or reference books here at school, in your homes, or the library over in Franklin. All of your references are to be included in your bibliography.”
“Why not just take us out and shoot us,” Amari groused.
“Too easy,” he tossed back.
Amari slumped down in his seat.
“This assignment will serve two purposes. It will prepare you for the big papers you’ll be doing once you get to the college level, and give you a lesson in the value of electronics when they are used for good. Any questions?”
None.
He wasn’t finished. “And to make this even more of a challenge, I’ve picked your topics, so get ready to write this down.”
They stared in horror.
He turned first to Crystal. “Crystal, pick a number from one to four.”
She sighed resignedly. “Three.”
“Eurystheus.”
“What?”
He spelled it for her.
“Is this somebody’s name?”
“You’ll have to look it up.”
He turned to Eli. “Numbers one, two, and four are left.”
“Two.”
“Eurybiades.”