Big Three-Thriller Bundle Box Collection (83 page)

CHAPTER 12

“T
here they are!” Julie called out, waving as Jack Simpson pulled into the parking lot in his old brown Chevy. His wife, Sadie, and family pulled in behind in their new green Olds Bravada. “Tony, whistle to the kids, and we’ll start eating.”

Parker was glad Julie had taken Pastor Santini’s attack so well. They had called the hospital before they had left for the park. He was still in surgery in critical condition, just hanging on. They would check on his condition after the picnic.

The park overflowed with people enjoying the bright Sunday afternoon. The Parkers were lucky enough to find a couple of empty picnic tables sparsely surrounded by evergreen trees. Two tables weren’t nearly enough for all twenty-four adults and sixteen kids that had come, But in anticipation, most had brought blankets or lawn chairs or both.

The tables were laden with food: covered dishes, pies, and even a couple of buckets of the Colonel’s fried chicken. The women gathered around the picnic tables, chitchatting and sorting out the food, mostly chitchatting, while the men, some sitting in lawn chairs, some standing, shot the breeze.

The clear afternoon was a little cooler than it had been but was still in the upper nineties. The wind, inescapable as the typical Kansas wind was, came steady and light. Instead of blowing like a blast furnace and adding to the tormenting temperature, it contained a hint of the cool front promised and rumored for days.

The majority of the children played touch football in a clearing nearby. Yankee watched the children longingly as he lay beneath a large pine he was tied to. Occasionally, his head rose as a breeze brought the smell of fried chicken or roast beef or ham to his sensitive nose, and he licked his snout in anticipation of the half-eaten sandwiches and wasted helpings of roast beef from the children’s plates. Parker’s shrill whistle made Yankee sit up and pay attention. He anxiously watched as the children ran by laughing and giggling. The dog snapped his head, apparently picking up a familiar scent as Nick sprinted past. Yankee’s tongue slipped around his muzzle like a writhing snake. The boy was sure to sneak an extra slice of ham for his best friend.

Everyone gathered around the tables as Simpson sat down his picnic basket and unfolded two lawn chairs. Parker grabbed up Sadie like a rag doll and kissed her long and hard on the lips. Her limbs hung limp, and she didn’t fight, not even in play. They’d been friends since Jack and she started dating fourteen years ago. She had a slight build and was barely five feet tall. She had large, sensitive eyes and smooth, dark chocolate-brown skin, a bubbly sense of humor and always looked neat and fresh as if she were getting her picture taken.

“I can’t do without my little Hershey’s Kiss,” Tony said, setting her back down to her feet gently.

“Wow!” Sadie said, fanning herself with a paper plate.

“Hey, would you two knock it off?” Simpson said, with a forced smile. “You do that exact same thing every time we get together.”

Parker got the desired reaction out of him. He knew he would be the only one who could get away with it.

“Not the exact same thing, Jack,” Parker said with a slap to Simpson’s shoulder. “This time she damn near gagged me with her tongue!”

Sadie looked at Parker with an embarrassed smirk as she passed out the plates and plastic forks to Jack and their three girls.

Parker didn’t have to worry about Julie’s reaction. She always put up with this display anytime the four of them were together. She never seemed to mind. There didn’t seem to be any jealousy. The Simpsons were good friends and were always there when the Parkers needed anything. They had even sat up at the hospital with little Audrey when she was in intensive care and Julie and Tony needed a break.

“We were about ready to give up on you guys!” Julie said.

“Duty called, and, of course, Jack had to go,” Sadie said, frowning.

Julie looked back with an understanding grin and a shake of the head.

“Tell you about it later,” Simpson said to Parker.

Parker was curious. It must be about Jezebel. Maybe some new information. Maybe they’d found her—but no, such good news wouldn’t have been harmful to bring up. It must be bad. Maybe she’d killed again. This wasn’t the right time to talk shop, not with Sadie and Julie right there. He’d ask Simpson about it the first chance he had when they were alone. Still, the curiosity gnawed on him like an itch that he couldn’t scratch.

Something else chewed on Parker. He felt eyes, beautiful eyes, stealing glances at him—Sarah’s eyes. Occasionally he’d look over to her and give her a slight grin. Unfailingly, he’d look to Julie and see she had seen the exchange every time it took place.

The usual teasing came as they ate their meals, “same man, same woman” sorts of things, “how could you put up with him/her.” Most of the kids rushed through their main courses and, with fists full of brownies and cookies, ran back to where they were playing before. Yankee had his expected feast when one out of every four children who passed threw him something. He swallowed whole slices of ham. Some of the things he ate couldn’t have had time to be identified by his taste buds before being gulped down.

Simpson’s oldest daughter, thirteen-year-old Clarisse, fed Audrey a mixture of the softer foods at the table, and Julie and Sadie were assuring the teenager that someday she would make an excellent mother. Sarah Hill sat at the picnic table nearby with some of the other city and county workers.

“That was some letter to the editor in Saturday’s paper, Tony. Looks like you feel pretty strongly about it,” Parker’s retired neighbor, George Mates, said. “You really think it’s not the dog’s fault if it attacks somebody?”

“That’s right,” Parker answered. “Any animal that has been domesticated or taken out of the wild isn’t responsible for its actions, George. It’s the master who’s responsible for knowing how to keep the animal happy and out of a position where someone could be harmed by it. Some animals are like weapons. They won’t hurt anyone if they’re left alone. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying these animals aren’t dangerous.”

“You know,” Simpson said, “some people might think that’s what you were trying to say. They might think you were defending the animals’ right to be kept in the city.”

“And that’s not the point at all,” Parker said. “The point is that they aren’t the problem. If we’d get tough with these jerks and fine every owner that has an animal involved in an incident a couple thousand bucks, maybe they’d get the idea and either find out how to keep them away from people or not have them at all.”

“What about this big Great Dane, Jezebel, I think they call her?” Dot Chambers, Julie’s sister-in-law from Kansas City asked. “What about her?”

“You’ve heard about her clear up in Kansas City?” Parker asked.

“Sure, the whole country has by now,” she said. “It was on cable,
Headline News
.”

“Damn. It’s all because of that asshole TV reporter, Haskins!” Parker said.

Parker glanced at Julie and met her scowl. He looked around the table and noticed a few young ears.

“All right, enough talking shop. We’re all here to have a good time,” Julie said.

Parker realized it was time to change subjects. He picked a football up from the ground as he got up from the table. “Hey, Jack, how about a little football?” he said, shoving the ball into Simpson’s stomach as he sat at the table.

“Oooff! Not again. We do this every time, Tony,” Simpson said, “and you always try some bull to make a fool out of me. When are you going to realize, I ain’t your Charlie Brown?”

There were a few chuckles from the full mouths around the table.

“Ah, come on Simpson. Not this time. Go on out there, and I’ll kick it to you, and you can run it back. Go on. And Sadie, you can hold it for me.”

“In your dreams, Tony,” Sadie countered, catching Parker off guard. Sadie was generally shy, but once in a while, she’d show her wit.

“And sweet dreams they’d be.” Parker grinned back. “Go way out there,
ol’ buddy!
”

“I’m not going to do it this time. You’re not going to make a fool out of me,” Simpson said and took another bite of fried chicken.

“What’s the matter, scare-d-cat? You afraid when you run it back I’ll hurt you? Come on, big, tough guy. Let’s see what you got!” Parker said.

“Well, all right. But no tricks this time—o
ld buddy
.” Simpson stood up and pushed away from the table and threw the chicken bone he’d been chomping on into a nearby trashcan. He began jogging out toward a clearing.

Parker knew he’d get Simpson to play. Jack had always had a passion for the sport, just not quite enough talent to get him a scholarship for college. Parker set the ball down and motioned for Sadie to hold it. A leery Simpson turned occasionally as he trotted.

“Keep going, keep going.”

Trouble brewed nearby as Parker stepped back into kicking position. He saw Julie and Sarah standing together—alone, talking— trouble. Sarah leaned against a tree in a get-out-of-my-face sort of stance. Julie did all the talking.

Parker noticed Simpson slowing down and looking back, so he waved him on. His attention went back to the girls. He couldn’t make out what was being said, but he heard words—harshly spoken words with sharp barbs that come out when lips contort for emphasis.

Simpson looked back again, getting noticeably winded.

“Come on, Parker, you can’t kick this far!” he puffed.

“Keep going, keep going!” Parker yelled.

Parker remembered the night he first met Simpson. It had been the last game of the high school football season, and Simpson’s team was playing Parker’s for top honors in the city. The score was twenty-one to twenty in favor of Simpson’s team. Parker’s team had the ball, fourth and fifteen, at the twenty-five yard line with twelve seconds left on the clock. Parker was the team’s star field-goal kicker and hadn’t missed a field goal all season. Simpson was playing defensive tackle, and with his height and speed, he’d sacked many a quarterback and field goal kicker. The ball had been snapped and set, and Parker sent it sailing with a solid kick. He could feel that it was a good kick from the start. Suddenly, Simpson’s long arms reached out from nowhere and tipped the ball, sending it wobbling. Simpson’s momentum carried him onto Parker, and they lay in a pile as Parker watched the ball soar. When it finally reached its distance, it struck the inside of the right goal post and bounced out in front of the goal.

The crowd went insane, and Simpson started laughing uncontrollably. Parker’s anger simmered, as Simpson looked back at him, he-hawing like a jackass. The game had meant a lot to Parker, maybe even a scholarship, and tension built as he watched this large black man, who he didn’t know, laugh in his face while sprawled on top of him.

“You stupid, bastard nigger!” Parker had lashed out as he took a swing at Simpson’s helmet protected face.

“Ignorant, white-trash asshole!” Simpson had yelled and swung back.

They had rolled together, swinging back and forth until the officials pried them apart.

Later that night, they had run into each other at a party and without helmets were mutually unrecognized. They began talking and, after a few minutes, started discussing the game. When they realized who they were talking with, they both had a laugh and had been friends ever since. Parker was ashamed of what he had called Simpson and that part of the evening was never brought up again.

Parker saw Simpson slow down and stop seventy-five yards out. Simpson panted with his hands on his knees, still facing away. He knew this was as far as Simpson would go. He walked over to Sadie and motioned her to get up. She looked surprised but grinned and went along.

“Jack’s going to be ma-ad,” Sadie said.

“That’s all right, he expects it,” Parker assured her. “Actually, I think he likes it.”

He put his arm around her shoulders, and they began walking toward the picnic table. Julie and Sarah still
talked
.

Parker released Sadie and picked up his paper plate from his place at the table. He piled on a large helping of potato salad and looked over at the girls. Sarah’s body language had softened somewhat from a don’t-tell-me-what-to-do posture. It relieved him. Now, maybe Sarah wouldn’t tempt him with what he couldn’t have, and Julie would vent some anger and be a little easier to get along with.

Parker sighed and sidestepped in front of the baked beans. He paused for a moment when he heard an odd
thud, thud, thud
and a steam-engine-like puffing.

“
AAAAAAAAH
!” Simpson screamed as he reached for Parker’s plate and shoved it into his face.

The paper plate stuck momentarily then fell away. Large chunks of potato salad clung to Parker’s nose, cheeks, and forehead, some of it falling down the front of his shirt. Everyone around the tables laughed, including Sadie and Jack.

“Shit!” Parker said, fingering off his face.

“No, you’re lucky,” Simpson said, doubled over in hysterics. “It
’s just potato salad.”

An unattended banana lay on the edge of the picnic table, and Parker grabbed it.

“Ah, now, Tony!” Simpson said. He picked up a carrot stick and pointed it in his direction. “Slowly put the banana on the table, raise your hands above your head, and back away from it.”