City Limits
4
Whirl-a-Gig
First Date
“NEXT WEEKEND is the County Fair,” Karen said over dinner. She looked uncommonly excited to Gee. But her enthusiasm always affected him positively.
“It must be a big thing here,” Gee said. “I see signs and posters up all over town.” Karen looked at him questioningly.
“Gee?”
“What? Did I say something wrong?”
“Of course not. I just thought you’d be excited.”
“Why? I mean, it does look like a big deal to the town, but I don’t have a proper context for what that means. Tell me.”
“The ticket,” she said in exasperation. “Have you forgotten that you have a ticket? This could be the clue we’ve been waiting for. The clue to who you really are.”
“Oh! You know, I completely forgot. I use that little slip of paper to mark my place in The Odyssey, but the past couple of weeks, I’ve been reading other books from the library and hadn’t thought about the ticket,” Gee said. “I suppose it’s important, huh?”
Karen shook her head and smiled at him. Her eyes sparkled and he lost himself in them.
“You really don’t care, do you?” she whispered. “Mead has exhausted his DNA databases and we’ve sent samples out to seven commercial DNA services. We’ve posted your picture on over a dozen social media and missing persons websites. You’re everywhere but on a milk carton, but you don’t care.”
“I have gotten some interesting responses to the ads on Craigslist. I don’t dare open them in the library, though,” Gee laughed. “Apparently there are a lot of people who ‘would like to know me,’ as they say.”
“Ugh. You can come over and use my computer if you’d like. We can sift through the responses together. I should have known there would be a lot of crack-pots wanting to take advantage of you,” Karen sighed. “But that brings us back to the one solid lead we have about who you are. The Fair.”
“It really doesn’t sound like that much fun to me.”
“It’s not for fun. Gee, that ticket is a clue to who you are. There is a reason that you acquired it and a reason you are supposed to go.”
“What reason?”
“That’s the point!” Karen said, frustration creeping into her voice. “We don’t know the reason. You have to promise me that you’ll go to the fair and even go to that ride. Just look around and observe. There’s a reason for you to be there. There has to be a reason.”
“I see your point, and I’ll go. I just don’t feel compelled about it. It would be easier if you’d go with me.”
“I…” Karen stopped and looked at Gee in silence for a minute. “That sounded an awful lot like you were asking me out, Gee.”
“I guess… um… We’ve been meeting together once or twice a week for the past six weeks, Karen. I’m sorry if it’s not appropriate, but I feel that meeting with you is a lot more important than working out who I am. Would you go out with me?”
“I would. But…”
“That sounds ominous. Please continue.”
“It’s just that next weekend I’m supposed to be in New York. It’s the Society for Professional Journalism Conference. I’m attending a track on investigative reporting and its relation to law enforcement and police investigation. It’s a pretty hot topic and relates to my effort to dig into trafficking,” Karen rushed on. “So, even though I would be willing… I would like to go out with you… to the fair… I can’t because I won’t be in town.”
“Oh. I see. Of course. That makes sense.” Gee was dealing with simultaneous attacks of encouragement and disappointment. She couldn’t go to the fair with him, but she did want to go out with him. He felt a little like an infatuated teenager.
“Gee? If you’d like… I mean since we’ve broached the subject… We seem to both be interested… Well… We could drop the professional nonsense this evening and consider this a date. Sort of. I mean, just getting to know each other socially. I promise to stop investigating for the next hour or two. I mean…” It was obvious that Karen was having as much difficulty sorting through her feelings as Gee was. A blush crept across both their faces.
“Um… Wow! What’s a good first date?” Gee asked. “I’d ask you to dinner, but we’ve already finished eating. I guess that was a business meeting. Now, it no longer is. Could I… uh… interest you in a walk? Maybe for ice cream?”
“That sounds very nice.”
Gee felt he got to know Karen beyond her professional life, and she got to see that he was more than a man with no history.
“Take the idea that all people are created equal,” Gee said. “Does that mean that every person in every stage of his or her life is equal to every other?”
“Doesn’t that require a definition of ‘equality’?” Karen responded. “People can be created with and have equal value without having equal economic or social standing.”
“Does that mean a military action is an inherent violation of equality? Not just that the enemy is of less value, but that the lives of front line soldiers—cannon fodder—have less value than those of their officers?”
Poaching
GEE STRODE ALONG briskly on Sunday, still slightly euphoric over his date with Karen the night before. He’d been happy to drop the probing questions about his background and transition into more revealing conversations about what they felt and believed. They didn’t get together on Sunday, but Gee was still stoked about the relationship.
Determined to explore more of his adopted city, Gee took a new route, entering the Forest on the southern edge near Aldo Lake, where the public beach was. A fence at the end of the beach marked the city limits. A stark contrast divided the neatly groomed nut orchard on one side of the fence from the wild woods on the other. Gee walked some way along the fence, finally shifting north into the Forest.
There weren’t as many people in this section of the Forest as he’d seen in the central part, nearer to downtown. Gee soon had his shoes off and tied to his belt as he walked among the trees. A broken branch lying nearby looked like a perfect walking stick. Gee picked it up, trimmed a couple of twigs from the branch and began swinging it with each step. He even whistled a little tune as he hiked.
To him it was a tune. Gee wasn’t certain if anyone else would be able to tell. He had a feeling the tune he was hearing in his head was not what was coming from between his lips.
“Stop where you are and drop the stick,” a young but authoritative voice said behind him. Gee froze and let the stick fall to the ground. “Turn around, poacher,” the man commanded. Gee turned to face a man in the obvious dress of a forester. He wore a pith helmet, short sleeved khaki shirt, cargo shorts, and hiking boots with over-the-calf socks. Gee supposed he could be a Boy Scout.
“I don’t think I’ve poached anything. I haven’t even seen any animals in the woods,” Gee said. “I’m Gee, George Evars. I’m new here.”
“Oh, you. Sorry, I’d never met you. Have you had an orientation session on the Forest yet?”
“Orientation?”
“I swear, people can be so negligent when it comes to protecting our resources. That’s why there are four times as many foresters as there are police in Rosebud Falls. I’m Jonathon Lazorack. If you don’t recognize the outfit, I’m one of forty foresters who manage this area. Since you haven’t been through orientation, I’ll let you off with just a warning,” Jonathon said. He reached in his pocket for a small booklet titled ‘Rules of the Forest.’ “Okay. You’ll get one of these at orientation. You’ve been here a month already, haven’t you? I can’t believe no one gave you a rulebook. Here we are. ‘Poaching is defined as moving or removing any resources from the Forest proper, whether living or dead, plant, animal, or mineral, unless directed by an active duty forester or his agent.’ That stick you were carrying toward the edge of the forest is worth thirty days in jail.”
“Wow! That’s pretty extreme.”
“Second offense is a felony conviction. The law is patterned almost word for word after some of the countries who have had problems with their antiquities being stolen. It’s proven enforceable in local courts, as well. Did you know there was a twelve-year-old boy who served a week in an Athens jail last year for picking up a pebble on the Acropolis and putting it in his pocket?”
“And you treat the Forest like they treat the Parthenon,” Gee breathed. “I had no idea.”
“Yeah. I get that. There’s no orientation this week because of the fair, but I’ll expect to see you at the library on the Saturday morning following the fair. Believe me, you don’t want to be stopped a second time,” Jonathon said. Just as quickly as the surprising warning, Jonathon’s persona changed. Now that he’d done his job, it seemed he was curious about the new guy in town. “Tell me about yourself, Gee. What do you think of our Forest?”
“It’s really beautiful, Jonathon. I’ve never been in a forest where there was no undergrowth.”
“We call it Forest, but in the strictest sense you could say it was an orchard. There is only one kind of tree in the entire 1,200 acres and we care for them like the lifeblood of our community that they are.”
“And you keep the whole area mulched?”
“People like to walk out here in their bare feet—like you. We do a lot of sawing up at the mill, so all the sawdust comes to the Forest. It makes it easier to pick the nuts, too,” Jonathon said. “Since we keep the undergrowth down, the mulch also helps prevent runoff and erosion.”
“I heard everyone works during Harvest. When is that?”
“Sometime in September or October. We make the decision based on the nut-fall from the trees. It’s exciting, but it’s also when the problems start. We double the number of foresters with trained volunteers and there’s an equally big squad of security people. The north, east, and south sides of the Forest are fenced, but there are only intermittent fences on the town side. We have to balance protection with access and there will be a thousand tourists flooding into town that week as well. The fair next weekend is minuscule compared to the one during Harvest.”
“You are really enthusiastic about it. You must love your job,” Gee said smiling.
“I do. I love this old Forest. All I ever wanted was to be a forester. It was a pain to go to the College of Forestry. They have some strange ideas about forest management out West. Different kind of forests. Mostly about managing fire threat and logging. Here, we’re more like arborists. I was also away from the two things in life that I love most and couldn’t wait to get back.”
Jonathon liked to talk and while they walked through the forest he led them to an old tree.
“I want to be like this tree,” Jonathon sighed. “My grandfather wanted to be this tree. It has stood here for 150 years. Look how straight and tall it is. Over a hundred feet. The bole—that’s the trunk, really—is a yard wide. The canopy shelters an area of fifty feet. It will be the last tree harvested this year with a big celebration and will drop between ten and fifteen bushels of nuts. But that’s half of what it dropped when I was little. This old tree is dying. When the nuts have been gathered and the deadwood harvested—around the first of November—forty foresters will gather around this old man. We’ll scale, lop the limbs, and bring him down in twenty-foot sections. He’ll go to the mill and be dried and turned into high-grade lumber that will go out to furniture makers around the county. In another 150 years, some little kid will be sitting at a table made from the wood of this old man, coloring in a book about trees, and dreaming of becoming a forester. That little kid’s great-grandchild might sit at the same table. These are our trees. These are our life. Growing up in the Forest is only the beginning.”
Free Ride
I’M STALKING HIM. Rena had to admit the truth. She’d become fascinated with the newcomer in town and eventually infatuated with the mystery man who had no memory. She flirted shamelessly with him, but he just took it in good humor and let her suggestive remarks slide.
She’d talked to Pastor Beck in the Young Singles class at church. It was easy to talk to the minister. He seemed to understand her desires and fantasies.
“God gives us our desires as well as our intelligence,” he said. “Our desires make us aware of opportunities and our intelligence helps us discern God’s will regarding them. Explore what it is that attracts you to this young man and invite him to join you in fellowship here in church. Perhaps you are an instrument of God’s grace to bring him to salvation.”
Pastor Beck had prayed with her and given her communion. She always felt filled with the Holy Spirit after communion. When he placed the wafer on her tongue, her fantasies burst forth in a way that could only be inspired by the Spirit. She was determined to entice Gee to join her at church.
“Hey, handsome,” Rena said when she saw Gee on Friday morning. She’d just applied a coat of bright red lipstick that matched the new bright red hair color she was sporting. It had been so much work to get just this shade of red. She’d dyed her eyebrows the same color. Gee looked up from the bacon he was slicing and stopped the spinning blade.
“Rena, you’ve outdone yourself,” he laughed. “Does the fire department know you stole their paint?”
“The fire department wants to hose me down because I’m so hot!” she fired back at him. “How about you, Gee? Do you want to hose me down?”
“That’s not something that crossed my mind,” he said. “Oh, listen! They’re doing an interview with Troy on the radio.” That change of subject was too obvious for even Rena to miss. She wanted to storm off and let him regret what he was missing, but she wasn’t sure he’d regret it.
“This is Leslie Lake filling in for Troy Cavanaugh on the morning show. And I have Troy on the line with me. Good morning from your hometown, Troy,” the announcer said.
“Good morning, Leslie. And good morning to all the fine folks in Rosebud Falls.”
“Troy, how does it feel to be presented with a peer award for your radio broadcasting?”
“It’s really an honor, Leslie. When I came to New York for the joint Radio Television Digital News Association and Society of Professional Journalists Conference, I really had no expectation of receiving an award. I credit the people of Rosebud Falls for keeping life interesting outside our window on Main Street. That’s really what the morning show is about. The people of Rosebud Falls.”
Rena wanted to pull Gee’s attention back to her. She had worked hard for this look. But Gee looked like he was a million miles away. He looked… troubled. Maybe she could help.
“Are you going to the Fair this weekend?” she asked. “I plan to spend the rest of the weekend there as soon as I get off work tonight.”
“Uh… Oh… yes. I’m going to stop by tomorrow.”
“I’ll watch for you. You can buy me cotton candy.”
“Sure. I’ll see you there.” He sounded so vacant. But meeting at the fair was good. She could almost convince herself it was a date.
Maybe.
On Saturday, Gee worked his usual morning shift at the market. It was only when Nathan and Marian packed up Devon in the stroller that he decided to join them on the walk to the fair. He showed his pass and the ticket-taker merely waved him through. She didn’t collect the pass, stamp his hand, or ask any questions. It was as if she didn’t really see him.
“We’re going to get Devon a balloon and some frozen yogurt so we can spend some time seeing the exhibits,” Nathan said as soon as they were through the gate. “Catch up with you later!” With that, Marian, Nathan, and Devon were off on their own adventure and Gee was alone. Food booths lined both sides of the passage and he stopped for a sausage at Zeigler’s, remembering the excellent hamburger he’d had his first night in Rosebud Falls. Somehow the sausage fell short of his expectations and the curly fries were dripping in grease. He dumped half the meal in a bin and continued on. He was sure the fries he shared with Karen had been much better.
At the end of the aisle, a long line marked the location of the Jitterz coffee stand. He joined the line and finally made it to the front.
“Well, Mr. Gee, how are you doing today,” said Violet Lanahan, the owner’s daughter.
“Miss Violet, I’m better for seeing you and knowing your fine coffee is soon to be in my hands,” he answered. Violet smiled at him, stunning white teeth contrasting with her caramel skin. She had dark eyes that darted around her surroundings, always on the move. Most striking, however, was her red hair—not bottle red like Rena’s, but the ginger hair of her Irish father. “Are you working alone today?” he asked. “With a line like this, I’d expect Elaine to be with you.”
“She will be. First, she has to be a star. You should go catch the quartet. She sings with her three cousins.” Violet looked at her watch. “They perform in ten minutes.” Gee took his coffee with thanks to Violet and made his way to the stage where a crowd was already gathering.
Applause greeted the Nussbaum Quartet as they walked on stage but died quickly as the smallest of the quartet, a cutie in a barely legal denim mini skirt, opened her mouth to sing. She started a scat rhythm that was helped immensely by the microphone close to her mouth. She had a nice voice, but Gee wasn’t sure it would carry past the first row without the microphone. Her bright blue eyes, highlighted by dark liner, were enough to light up the stage.
Her vocalese was joined by a young man’s baritone. He towered over his cousins and looked like he just walked off the cover of GQ magazine. He had chiseled good looks and a presence that said he knew he was handsome.
When the third member of the quartet joined in, Gee remembered Troy Cavanaugh’s comment the first day they met. Krystal Nussbaum, beauty queen, could have won the state pageant if she had her cousin’s voice. She began a counterpoint singing in a higher range than the other two.
Elaine, the only member of the quartet Gee met previously, looked sad and out of place at the right end of the quartet. Her mike was a little farther from the others, which only served to accent the fact that she carried several more pounds than her female cousins. When she opened her mouth, though, nothing else mattered.
Troy had described her as having the voice of an angel, but it was more than that. When she began to sing “The Sun is Rising,” the three individual voices of her cousins suddenly gelled around her. The change that came over Elaine when she sang was heart-stopping. She glowed as the notes poured forth; she was what made her cousins beautiful.
After the quartet’s performance, Gee moved away from the crowds toward the mercantile building. Amidst the typical demonstrations of blenders, vacuum cleaners, cookware, and cutlery, the mercantile at the county fair included exhibits by several of the local furniture craftsmen. Slater Craft exhibited a new stain derived from the bark of the Rose Hickory applied to a white oak table. It was among many furniture offerings attempting to get the look of the Rose Hickory without having access to the wood.
Gee stopped abruptly in front of Forest Custom Furnishing’s booth. The furniture exhibited was exquisite. Several different styles were represented. Gee could see instantly the difference between the stained oak furniture up the aisle and the genuine Rose Hickory. It was beautiful and begged to be touched, stroked along its satin finish.
“That’s genuine Rose Hickory, Gee. There is no finer furniture wood in the world and we at Forest are the premier craftsmen in its use.” Gee smiled at the thin man and recognized him from basketball.
“Luke! Is this your company?”
“It is. Please forgive my pride and bragging about it.” Luke was several inches taller than Gee, but probably lighter in weight.
“There is no question about what a difference there is between this and the look-alike up the aisle here.”
“There’s nothing at all wrong with what Slater produces. It’s good quality furniture. It just isn’t Rose Hickory. Some people can’t tell the difference. I’m glad to see you can.”
“I suppose it could be your stain and finishing technique. It brings out the color. I didn’t realize what a beautiful grain the hickory has.”
“You are right about the finishing technique. Good eye. But there is no stain applied to this wood. And the finish is created here in town at Larue chemicals. It is regulated and won’t be available outside Rosebud Falls for at least five more years. The finish is an oil distilled from the nuts of the Rose Hickory. It penetrates the wood and hardens, giving this satiny hand,” Luke said.
“Just for curiosity’s sake, what does a table like this cost?” Gee could already see a table like this in Nathan and Marian’s dining room. Perhaps a little smaller than this one.
“This table? This would sell for about five thousand dollars new. This one is old, so it would probably go for twice that. Of course, this table isn’t for sale. All our work is custom. We build the furniture to match the customer’s exact specifications.”
“Thank you for the education. I’d love to visit your shop sometime.”
“I’ll see that you get a good tour. There is a limited amount of wood available to craftsmen each year, which is what keeps the price high. That, and we care about what we make. This table will be around for hundreds of years. In fact, it is already nearly a hundred years old.”
Here Now
GEE CONTINUED through and out of the mercantile building. He let his feet take him where they would and wandered onto the midway. He spotted the unmistakable fire engine red hair of Rena and turned abruptly away, hoping she hadn’t noticed him. He found himself looking up at a frightening ride. It was like a Ferris wheel, but this was no ride for romance. Passengers stood in cages located at intervals around the standing wheel. Instead of riding straight up and maintaining their orientation to the ground, though, these cages flipped over randomly. Extremely boisterous teens could rock the cage, pumping it like a swing until it rolled over. Bright letters in the center of the contraption advertised the Whirl-a-Gig.
“I knew you’d get here eventually, Gee,” the ride carny called. Gee looked at the bald man operating the ride and taking tickets. “Going to go around a few times?”
“No, I don’t think so. You know me?”
“Well, know might be a bit of a strong word. You always show up at the right time, though.”
“What do you mean? Where have I shown up at the right time?”
“Think about it, Gee. You got to Rosebud Falls just in time to rescue a little boy from drowning. You walked along the river just in time to get a beaten woman to the hospital. Even when you walked down Main Street, you arrived just in time to meet Troy Cavanaugh. You showed up at the library just when they needed someone to read to the children. You were in the grocery store just in time to advise a young man about how to treat his girlfriend. You got to the fair just in time to see the Nussbaum Quartet. Everywhere. Always right on time.”
“Those are just coincidences. It’s not like I go out looking for people to help or to save. Or even music to listen to. I wasn’t even going to come to the fair today.”
“Except you did. Gee, the possibility of a coincidence occurring at any given moment is always one hundred percent. You have your eyes open when they occur.”
“You know a lot about me. Do I know you?”
“I doubt it. Bill Williams,” the carny said holding out his hand. Gee shook it. “I know you have a lot of questions. Not that I can answer them.”
“Who am I? Where did I come from?”
“See, like that. You think I can answer those questions?”
“But you know me, Bill.”
“I know you right here and now.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“Gee, are you happier wondering about who you were or being who you are?”
That stopped the conversation short. When Gee tried to remember his past, he was plagued with frustration as memories slipped just beyond his grasp. When he was just trying to be helpful and a part of the community, not thinking about past or future, he was always happy.
“I guess when I’m just here.”
“Here and now, Gee. Always be here and now.”
“Here and now. Just keep showing up?”
“Just in time. Like now.” Bill gestured toward a young family watching pig races not far away. “That little girl is what… seven years old? The one in pink shorts and striped shirt. She wanted to ride the Whirl-a-Gig,” Bill laughed. “Her parents were horrified. Don’t blame them. I wouldn’t get on this thing.”
“I recognize her from my Wednesday reading circle. Sally Ann. I don’t think I’ve ever met her parents.”
“They’ve been here all afternoon. Mom and Dad are getting cranky. You know we see cranky moms and dads more than kids at fairs. Mom and Dad just reach a point where they can’t take any more. They need a nap. Unfortunately, the kid has had enough cotton candy and soda to be wired for sound. They’re not like that guy over there. The one in the green and white tractor hat and black t-shirt and jeans. He doesn’t look like much—probably nobody here at the fair has noticed him. Funny thing, though. He’s never more than fifty feet away from that family. Has been all afternoon. It’s almost like he’s been watching them. Waiting.”
“Do you think he means to hurt them?”
“Don’t know what it means. I just think it’s odd that they are in those positions right when you show up at the fair.”
“I think I’ll watch them for a while,” Gee said, starting to move away.
He almost turned back when he heard Bill say, “I’ll tell Rae you’re doing well.” Rae, as written in my book? This is more important than a pig… Just at that moment, though, one of the pigs took a wrong turn and broke through the plastic retaining wall into the crowd. It was harmless, but the frightened animal darted one way and another as people either scattered or chased after the porcine fugitive. Gee laughed at the antics with the crowd. Then he caught a different movement out the corner of his eye. The little girl was standing alone on the other side of the roadway from where the pig was still cavorting. But her eyes were fixed somewhere else. Just beyond, the man in the green and white farmer’s cap was approaching and talking to her.
Kidnap
GEE MOVED QUICKLY and stepped between the man and his target. He knelt on one knee next to the girl as she continued to look up at the other man, mesmerized by the piece of candy in his hand.
“Did you lose your parents, Sally Ann?” Gee asked softly. The little girl’s eyes snapped down to Gee and she flung her arms around his neck.
“A bad man,” she croaked in his ear.
“You’re safe now, honey. Shall we go find your parents?”
“Yes, please.”
“Want to ride on my shoulder? They’ll be sure to see you up there.” He lifted the little girl to his shoulder and began moving back toward the pig race where the competitors were being corralled and caged. He glanced over his other shoulder and saw the man in the green and white cap disappear into the crowd. Two fair security people and a police officer were managing the crowd of people, most of whom were still laughing at the excitement.
Gee scarcely heard a woman calling out, “Help! Help! My daughter. Sally Ann!” He saw the girl’s father approach the police officer and started toward them.
“Mommy!” Sally Ann called out. Mother, father, policeman, and both security people headed toward Gee.
“That man is taking my baby!” the mother cried out. Others turned and started toward Gee and Sally Ann from all directions.
“Put the child down and your hands in the air,” the policeman yelled. He already had his hand on his gun but was reluctant to pull it in the crowded midway. Gee eased Sally Ann to the ground and the girl ran to her mother. He raised his hands.
“I was trying to help her find her parents,” Gee said calmly.
“I’m sure,” the officer said. “Where’s your wife? Kids?”
“I’m here alone.”
“Your kind make me sick. Where were you taking the little girl?” The officer, assisted by the security men, had Gee’s hands pulled none too gently behind his back and in cuffs. A sheriff’s deputy headed toward them. Gee wasn’t worried. He was just helping out. As soon as things settled down, he would be able to explain.
But things didn’t settle down. The officer searched him and emptied his pockets, removing his pocket knife, marker, worry stone, and wallet.
“There’s no ID in here. Just a ton of cash. And a library card. Where’d you get this money?” the policeman demanded.
“My job… at the market.”
“Nobody earns this much money in a market. Who are you?”
“George Edward Evars. Gee.”
“Where do you live?”
“683 Joshua Street.”
“You better take him in and call Detective Oliver,” the deputy sheriff said. “This is above your pay grade, Mac.”
“County Mounties,” muttered one of the security men ‘helping’ hold Gee. “We should just take him down to the river and drown him.”
“Rick, there’s a reason you aren’t on the force any longer,” the deputy said. “Mac, handle this by the book or I’ll take it over.” The two security guards assisting the officer grumbled again.
“I’m not happy about it, but you’re right,” said the police officer. “I can arrest him, but I don’t know crap about booking him. I’ll take him to the jail and let Oliver sort it out.”
“I was just trying to help the little girl find her parents.”
“Speaking of which, did anyone get a statement from them? Their names?” the deputy asked.
The policeman looked at the security guys blankly.
Identifying the Suspect
“WHAT THE LIVING HELL is going on here?” Mead Oliver demanded when he saw Gee in his jail Sunday morning. The scene was chaotic. People had been coming and going all night and no one had thought to call him until six o’clock in the morning. Gee was fingerprinted again, put in a jail cell, and forgotten until morning. His arrest notice said, ‘John Doe, alias George Edward Evars, alias Gee. Attempted kidnapping.’
“It’s all a big mistake, Mead.”
“It always is.”
“If they’d just let me explain.”
“Keep it, Gee. You need a lawyer here.”
“But…” Mead turned and left the holding cell to face Nathan and Marian Panza in his office.
“Detective Oliver, there has been some kind of mistake made. Gee would never attempt to kidnap a child. He has ample opportunity to do that every day with Devon. He takes him with him to the library. He just isn’t like that,” Marian complained.
“Not to mention that two policemen came to our door in the middle of the night to question us as accomplices!” Nathan shouted at Mead. “Accomplices to kidnapping! What is the police department coming to?”
“If that man has harmed my grandson, I’ll hang him myself!” yelled Frieda, Grimm banging through the front door of the little police station. “Where is my grandson?”
“Momma, he’s fine,” Marian called from the door of Mead’s office. “I have him right here.”
Mead buried his head in his hands.
“Detective, Jack LaCoe is on line one,” the desk clerk called back to Mead. “He says he’s been retained as attorney for George Evars and wants immediate access to his client.”
“Who retained Jack LaCoe?” Mead asked.
No one volunteered an answer.
“Have him come in now,” Mead yelled back at the desk clerk in front. He’d never seen so many people in the police station at one time before. “Officer McCarran! Where’s the complaint? Who did Gee supposedly kidnap?”
“A little girl. It wasn’t supposedly, Detective. I saw him with the girl.”
“What little girl? Where’s the complaint from her parents?”
“We didn’t get one,” the officer said sheepishly. “They disappeared as soon as they had little Sally Ann back.”
“Sally Ann?” Marian said. “As in Sally Ann Metzger? If Ruth Ann Metzger started this mess, I’ll… I don’t know what I’ll do, but it won’t be pleasant.”
“You know the family?” Mead asked.
“Yes. They’re nice enough, but Ruth Ann is a real hovercraft and Dale is like a beaten puppy. I can’t imagine Sally Ann getting out of her sight. Of course, she’d blame it on someone else.”
“McCarran, look up the Metzgers and get them in here. Make sure they bring the child with them.”
“Detective Oliver, Mr. and Mrs. LaCoe are here,” said the desk clerk.
“Both of them? Already? Was he waiting outside the door when he called? Send him in. If we can get everyone here, maybe we can get this clusterfuck straightened out.”
It took a while. In the midst of anger and accusations among the families involved, the lawyers, and the police, Gee was led into the conference room. Officer McCarran had reluctantly followed the detective’s instructions not to restrain him.
“Gee!” Sally Ann and Devon both broke away from their parents and ran to Gee. He hugged them. Ruth Ann screamed.
“This is a kidnapper?” Jack LaCoe asked. “It looks like they think he’s Santa Claus.”
“Kids,” Gee said calmly. “Why don’t you go to your mommies for a couple of minutes while the nice police sort out what happened.”
“Okay, Mr. Gee. Devon, come with me. I will help you find your mommy,” Sally Ann said. She was easily three years older than Devon and acted like a big sister, taking his hand to lead him back to Marian. Frieda snatched the boy up. Rupert and Onyx had arrived in the meantime and Gee saw the young wife roll her eyes at Frieda’s possessiveness.
“Everyone sit down or stand back against the wall,” Mead said. “It’s ten o’clock on Sunday morning and there is no one in this room who wants to be here.”
“Has my client been charged?” Jack asked.
“No. We don’t have a formal complaint. Mr. and Mrs. Metzger, do you wish to file a complaint.”
“He took my baby,” Ruth Ann shouted.
“You saw him take her?” Jack asked.
“I saw her riding on his shoulders.”
“That’s a pretty unlikely place for a kidnapper to put his prey,” Mead followed up. “Sally Ann, did this man take you away from your parents?”
“Gee saved me from the bad man,” Sally Ann spoke up. “He helped me find Mommy.”
“She’s been saying that Gee saved her from the bad man, all night,” Dale Metzger said. “Uh… I thought she meant God saved her.”
“Sally Ann, do you know this man?” Ruth Ann finally asked.
“He reads to us in the library,” Sally Ann said.
“The library? Where Daddy takes you on Wednesday night?” Ruth Ann glared at her husband. “You knew him?”
“I didn’t really recognize him,” Dale confessed. “I usually read the city newspaper during story time.” A storm was brewing between Sally Ann’s parents. Mead moved quickly to redirect it.
“Sally Ann, was there another man? A bad man who was trying to take you away?”
“Uh huh. When the pigs got loose I ran away. I was scared. A big man told me to come with him and offered me some candy. Gee chased him away.”
“Does that match what you saw, Gee?”
“Oh. Do I get to say something?” Gee asked. He’d been sitting quietly in the face of accusation and exoneration the entire time they’d been in the room.
“No one took a statement from you, Gee?” Gretchen LaCoe asked, rolling her eyes.
“I didn’t have a lawyer, and no one was interested in listening to what I had to say. I told them it was a misunderstanding and they should go ask Bill,” Gee said.
“Who’s Bill?” Mead asked.
“He runs the Whirl-a-Gig ride at the fair. He pointed out the man who was stalking the Metzgers all afternoon.”
“McCarran! Get over to the fairgrounds and find this Bill…”
“Williams. Bill Williams,” Gee supplied.
“Detective, the fair’s gone. Last night was the end. They were tearing down and packing up at one a.m. The whole convoy was out of here by six,” the police officer said.
Mead groaned again.
“Mead, maybe we should get a description of the ‘bad man’ and then let everyone go home. Do you have Gee’s belongings?” Jack asked. “It seems this is all a misunderstanding, and unless Gee wants to sue the city for false arrest, it looks like we should focus on finding the other guy.”
“McCarran, get Gee’s belongings,” Mead snapped.
“I don’t want to sue anyone.”
“I didn’t think so,” Jack said.
Officer McCarran returned with a baggie of Gee’s possessions. Gee emptied it and immediately grabbed his worry stone. Sensing the marks under his finger made everything he had just been through seem like a joke. He smiled as he pocketed his handkerchief, pocketknife, marker, and the somewhat battered ticket he’d shoved in his pocket. He picked up his wallet and glanced inside, looking from the wallet to the officer.
“Oh!” Officer McCarran said. “I’ll call the sheriff’s office. The deputy observer last night demanded that we lock your cash in their safe. It would have only been in a desk drawer if we left it here.” He ran from the conference room.
“You had cash?” Jack asked.
“Nine hundred eighty dollars. Maybe nine-eighty-five. I suppose I owe it to you,” Gee smiled.
“A dollar. The rest of this case is pro bono. Why were you carrying so much cash?”
“Where else would I put it? I collect my pay and give Nathan and Marian my rent. Then I have this cash left over in my wallet. I don’t spend much other than lunches and a cup of coffee each morning at Jitterz. It just kind of collects there.”
“Why don’t you put it in the bank?”
“I don’t have an account.”
Jack and Gretchen looked at each other and then at Mead.
“We’ve been running every database we can get our hands on,” Mead said. “I expected to at least get a hit from Social Security, but nothing. No fingerprint matches. No photo matches. As far as Homeland Security is concerned, he doesn’t exist outside our little town.”
“We need to get Judge Warren involved,” Jack said to Gretchen. “Gee needs some kind of photo ID, even if it is only good within the city limits.”
“Gee, I doubt that we’ll be able to do anything about things like citizenship, a passport, voting, or driving, but Judge Warren should be able to get you some kind of identity papers that declare you a legitimate person. At least you could have a bank account and sign a lease,” Gretchen said. “We’ll go to work on it.”
Just then Officer McCarran returned and placed a baggie with cash in it in front of Gee. Quickly counting out nine hundred eighty-two dollars, Gee handed a dollar to Jack and stuffed the remainder in his wallet.
“Mr. LaCoe,” Mead said formally, “does your client wish to pursue any action against the Rosebud Falls Police Department or any of the other persons related to this misunderstanding?” Jack glanced at Gee, who shook his head.
“No, Detective. I will say, however, that various aspects of police training and pre-employment screening will be reviewed with possible recommendations forthcoming. We will not, however, file any direct complaints,” Jack said.
“Thank heavens for small favors. Does anyone else have anything to say in the matter?” There were no responses and Mead released the group as if adjourning a social club meeting. Ruth Ann and Sally Ann Metzger headed for the door at once. Sally Ann waved over her shoulder and Gee waved back.
“Mr. Evars, my wife failed to tell you that we are truly sorry for the misunderstanding and hope you will not hold the concern of panicked parents against us,” Dale Metzger said.
“Of course not, Mr. Metzger. And please, I’m just Gee. No ‘mister’ is required. I hope to see Sally Ann at the library on Wednesday evening.”
“I’m not sure if my wife will let me bring her out, but I’ll do my best. She does love story time.”
“Gee, could you spend a few minutes with me describing the man that you and Sally Ann referred to? I’d like to make sure we are keeping an eye out,” Mead said. “I’m sure he’s long gone by now, but we’ll keep watch.”
Jack and Gretchen sat with Gee while he did his best to describe the man he’d seen approaching Sally Ann. Unfortunately, the description fit half of the men age thirty to fifty years who lived in Rosebud Falls. Even the green and white tractor hat was common as they’d been given away at the fair.
“We should get a police artist to do a sketch so we have something to go on,” Jack suggested.
“We don’t have a police artist,” Mead mumbled.
“I’ll find one,” Jack said. “Well, Gee, are you hungry? Why don’t we have lunch?”
Gee accompanied Jack and Gretchen LaCoe to a diner on Main Street where the after-church crowd was already gathering.
“Thank you for coming to my aid this morning,” Gee said as they ate the daily special. “But… How did you even know I was in jail? Who asked you to represent me?”
“Your presence in town has not escaped the notice of some important people. We’ve been on notice for some time,” Gretchen said.
“Families?”
The lawyer couple turned to each other in silence for a moment, as if they were communicating with a higher power. Gee knew that was silly, but he’d always wondered how married people seemed to communicate without speaking. Eventually, they returned their attention to him.
“The Families,” Jack said. “It took me a long time to get comfortable with the concept of the Families. I’m an outsider—like you. I married into the town and into the Families. Gretchen is Heinz Nussbaum’s daughter.”
“Oh. Wait. LaCoe. One of the quartet is your son, isn’t he?”
“That’s Cameron,” Gretchen said. “But to the point, if you’d just walked into town a vagrant, the Families still would have taken notice. And frankly, I’m not sure which one got interested in you first. We were contacted anonymously almost a month ago and paid through a blind trust. Our instructions were simply to provide whatever legal aid you needed.”
“So, I get two lawyers for the price of one?”
“And the price is free,” Jack laughed. “Gee, we don’t have loyalty to any particular Family, in spite of Gretchen’s connection. We don’t know who asked us to look after you, so there is no conflict of interest. You didn’t choose us directly, but we are the only lawyers you will ever need in Rosebud Falls.”
New Owners
“THE FAMILIES have never interfered in our business before.”
“It’s a new world, Axel. Don’t look at it as interfering, but as expanding your horizons.”
“You can’t just dictate what we should publish,” the editor said. Who did they think they were? The Elmont Mirror had always been an independent voice in Rosebud Falls. His voice.
“I wouldn’t dream of it. In fact, I will do all in my power to protect the rights of our individual reporters. I want them to claim their own biases. In other words, no more stripping bylines from articles, Axel. The fact that we will also contribute occasional articles that support the public good is incidental.”
“And will you also claim your own biases?” Axel sneered. “Will your stories carry bylines?”
“When I… or we… on rare occasions submit an article for publication, it will have been vetted and reviewed and accepted as the voice of The Elmont Mirror. That is what will distinguish it from other reporters. You will have the voice of Axel Hunter, the voice of Karen Weisman, the voice of Ken Probst, the voice of Kelly Murray—or I should say her photos—and the voice of The Elmont Mirror. The only difference between this and what you’ve always done is that I am the voice of The Elmont Mirror instead of you. You get your own bylines.”
That didn’t sit well with Axel. He’d run the newspaper for years and had covertly taken credit for the writing of many stories by simply eliminating bylines. This was probably something that troublemaker Karen Weisman set in motion. She’d done nothing but complain about her bylines since she came to work here two years ago. As if she’d ever be in the running for a Pulitzer Prize. This was all her fault. He’d cook her goose later.
“So, every story is to carry a byline except yours,” Axel said.
“And, of course, identifying information if it comes from a news service. We’re governed by that in our agreements with AP and UPI, among the other news services. I’m sure you’ll do some of your best work identifying stories from the wire services that are relevant to the citizens of Rosebud Falls.”
“I get it.”
“Axel, I hope you won’t consider this a bad thing. There are big issues that will come before the people of Rosebud Falls soon. They need to see a strong position on the part of the newspaper and know that it is approved by the Families. They trust us. And they trust the Mirror.”
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