Chapter 5-4
2018 Words
“The virus—”
“We’re wearing masks. We’ll keep the windows rolled down. Hell, we work next to each other every day anyway.”
“Okay.”
He found a patch of woods and locked the bike to a tree.
Then he got into her Kia. It was cleaner than any car he ever owned, and it smelled better.
They cruised through the neighborhood and on Illinois Avenue found a bevy of RVs.
“There’re a few places like this around,” Sean said. “In Old Town, and at the end of Cornwall.”
“And here’s another. The woman said blue and white, right?”
They saw a blue Fleetwood and a gray and white Safari. “How many different kinds of RVs do they make?” Jaybee asked.
“Too many. There! Off the side of the road.”
It was a battered Winnebago, mostly dirt-colored now, but definitely blue with white trim.
“If he has an RV, why is he bathing in the homeless shelter?”
“It’s not hooked up to plumbing, is it?”
She made a face. “Gross.”
Jaybee pulled over to the side. “Now what? Ring his doorbell and run?”
Sean reached up to scratch his chin, bumped into his mask and yanked his hand away “We can’t sit here all day. People will notice. Tell you what. I’ll go into the woods and watch to see who comes out. I’ll call you later.”
“You’ll be okay?”
“Sure. I can walk to my bike from here.”
“Okay. Good luck.”
She drove a block and he got out. He passed two more RVs, seeing no signs of life. Not an early-rising crowd.
Sean settled into a spot in the woods, wishing he had worn a darker jacket. Finally, he took off his yellow coat. It was beginning to warm up, anyway.
He thought about Jaybee, wondering if she liked him, and where that could lead in this damned plague year. Then he started thinking about what they were trying to do. Hanging around outside the house of a guy who already attacked him once. Did that make any sense?
He had been known to make bad decisions, God knows. Going for a joyride with a cousin in a sports car he knew damn well Bob couldn’t have come by honestly. That had cost him a year of his life and given him a felony record.
Was he just digging a deeper hole now? And maybe dragging Jaybee in with him?
There were signs of activity up and down the row of vehicles now. Maybe it was time for a change of plan before someone spotted him.
There were some baseball-sized stones near his feet. He picked one up, hefted it, and threw it at the side of the Winnebago. It made a satisfactory bang as it bounced off the wall.
Sean backed up, getting as far away as he could and still see the RV. He had just picked up a second stone when the door was flung open.
Odin—or Odie or O.T—was standing there in a pair of jeans, and nothing else. He glared around but didn’t see anyone. He muttered something and went back in, slamming the door.
Okay. They knew where the guy lived. Now what?
“This is creepy,” Jaybee said. They were in the underpass.
“Nah, it’s a nice trail,” Sean said. “You just think it’s weird because you know what happened here.”
“Maybe.” She stopped and listened to the roar of cars on the concrete road overhead. “But that’s Interstate 5 which runs all the way from Canada to Mexico, and here we are walking right under it. You don’t think that’s weird?”
“Well, there has to be a way around it, right? Under or over. Whoa.”
He stopped. They had come to the second underpass, the one beneath the northbound lanes. Someone had propped up a framed picture of Hector Whiteshaw on one of the boulders near where he died.
“Is that him?” asked Jaybee.
“Yeah.” It was a professional photo, showing the man standing in front of his sporting goods store, a big smile on his face. He wore a red barn coat over a tie.
A few people had left notes under the picture. We miss you, Hec. Rest in peace.
We miss you, Hec. Rest in peace.“It’s so sad,” Jaybee said. “The only people I know who died were my grandmothers. And they were old.”
“My parents died when I was a teenager,” Sean said. “Car accident. And two guys I know from high school died this year.”
“Covid?”
He nodded.
Someone was approaching from the southern underpass. A young woman. She hesitated when she saw them, then came forward.
She was blond, short, and pretty. She wore a loose T-shirt and jeans, and a black mask. She was carrying a bouquet of roses.
“Hi,” Jaybee said. “Don’t let us stop you.”
After a moment she stepped forward and bent down to place the flowers next to the picture.
“We’re sorry for your loss,” Jaybee said. “Did you know him well?”
She nodded. “He was my boss. I can’t believe he’s gone.”
“It’s a shame,” Sean said.
“Did you know him?”
He wondered if he should explain about finding the body. Probably not. “No, we just heard about it.”
“I can’t believe anyone would want to hurt him. And why was he wandering around in the dark without a mask? He never went anywhere without a mask. Even had them made for all the employees.”
“Sounds like a great guy,” Jaybee said.
“He was.” Now she was crying.
Jaybee held out her arms to the side. “I wish I could hug you, but…”
“I know.” The blonde wiped tears away. She gave a little laugh. “Social distancing.”
“I’m Sean. This is Jaybee.”
“Alicia.” She pointed to a small pile of wilted flowers that looked like they had been gathered from the trailside. “This is the second night somebody did this. Was it you?”
“No,” Sean said. “Maybe his wife?”
The blonde snorted. “Like she cares. Do you know what she did the day after the funeral? Came down to the store to check the books. See how much money she’ll get.”
She shuddered. “God. What do I do now?”
“If you don’t mind my asking,” Jaybee said. “How far along are you?”
Alicia’s hands went to her stomach and for the first time Sean noticed the bulge.
“Three months. Almost four.”
Jaybee’s eyes met Sean’s.
“Yes,” Alicia said, her voice hard. “It’s Hector’s child. You happy now?”
“It’s none of our business,” Jaybee said.
“That doesn’t stop anybody. You should hear what they say at the shop.” She rolled her eyes. “A married man, like that’s some kind of big deal. And he promised me he was going to take care of it. Take care of me.”
me.”“Like getting a divorce?” Sean asked.
Alicia looked at him, wide-eyed. “Of course! What do you think I meant?”
“He didn’t mean anything. Listen, do you have someplace to go—”
“What? Do I look like I’m homeless? I have a home and I’m heading there now. You two can go to hell.”
She stormed off.
Sean and Jaybee looked at each other.
“Wow,” she said.
“That was weird.”
“It sure was.” Jaybee pinched her nose.
“Don’t touch your face.”
“Damn it. What were you thinking when you asked if she was talking about divorce?”
“I don’t know. Not much. Why?”
“Because she got so defensive. You know, there’s another way Whiteshaw could solve her problem. And it might explain the money.”
“Like what?”
“What if he was paying to have his wife killed?”
“Wow.” Sean took another look at the smiling man in the photograph. “That sounds like something in Odin’s skill set. Do we report it to the police?”
“Report what?” Jaybee waved a hand in frustration. “We don’t know anything.”
“Actually, we learned one new thing.”
“What’s that?”
Sean pointed to the little memorial. “She said somebody put those crummy flowers there two nights in a row. If it wasn’t the wife or the girlfriend, who the hell was it?”
“Remind me again why this is a good idea,” Jaybee said. They were on the other side of the fence that separated the Whatcom Creek Trail from the creek itself. They sat on a blanket on the bank. This way they could hear people walking by, without being seen in the moonlight. That was the theory anyway. Fortunately, the July night was pleasant.
Sean figured if Odin, or someone equally scary, spotted them they could wade across the creek and get away while the bad guy was climbing over the fence.
Unless he had a g*n, of course.
“Maybe it’s a mistake. You wanna leave?”
Jaybee thought. Then she shook her head. “It’s this or nothing. I’ve got no other ideas.”
“So, we wait.”
He liked being there in the darkness with her, even six feet apart.
It was almost midnight when they heard someone approaching from the underpass. Sean lifted his flashlight.
“Wait,” Jaybee whispered.
They heard voices now. A man talking. A woman giggled. The couple strolled by, never looking their way.
“I don’t think they’re delivering flowers,” Jaybee said.
“Not maintaining social distance either.”
Half an hour passed, and Sean was wondering how long he could stay awake.
“Listen.”
Someone was on the trail, walking east toward the underpasses.
Sean stood, hoping his joints didn’t crackle. Jaybee slid smoothly around the end of the fence and he followed.
They slipped quietly up to where someone was putting flowers in front of the memorial. It was a man, Sean, was sure. Tall and thin, and a hat. A pork pie hat.
He turned on his flashlight. “Hey, Tintin. Whatcha doing here?”
The homeless man’s eyes went wide. He turned and started to run.
“It’s okay, Tintin! It’s me, Jaybee!”
He stopped and turned. “Stay away! I got a knife.”
“We know. Sean and I are just wondering why you’re bringing flowers for Mr. Whiteshaw. Did you know him?”
Tintin was breathing so hard his paper mask was sucked in and out.
“Know him?” He laughed, a harsh sound. “No. He thought he knew me.”
“What does that mean?”
“I was here one night. Walking. I like to follow the creek.”
“Sure.”
“And this guy—” He pointed at the framed photo. “Came up to me. Tried to hand me a paper sack.”
“A sack?” Sean said.
“Said I promised to kill his girlfriend, and this was half the payment. He’s crazy. I couldn’t kill anybody!”
“His girlfriend,” Jaybee whispered.
“How did he say you two agreed?”
“By email,” he said. “I don’t have email. That’s how the government controls you.”
“So, you had to kill him.”
“I didn’t want to! He tore off his mask and tried to push that sack at me. I pushed back, that’s all!”
- Writer
