Boo Hiss (4 page)

C
HAPTER
4

M
ARTIN WATCHED MAYOR WULLISWORTH
tug at the tuft of white hair protruding from his ear. If he didn’t know better, he’d say the mayor was one snake sighting away from a Caribbean vacation. He’d ripped down all the Lost Pet posters the kid had put up.

“It’s frightening the residents!” the mayor had snapped in a shaky voice. That may have been true, but it was certainly trickling down from the top.

He drummed all ten fingers against his desk like it was a typewriter, and his leg bounced up and down beneath him.

“Sir,” Martin replied, “what this town needs is to see its mayor calm and collected, a reassuring voice in an uncertain time.”

“This is horrible! It’s horrible!” the mayor shrieked, then gnawed at the fingernails of one hand, while with the other he grabbed a pencil and busily doodled across a memo on his desk. Martin had never seen the mayor this nervous about anything.

It was supposed to be their weekly event meeting, so Martin decided that might get the mayor’s mind off of his self-described “worst horror of my life.”

“So part of the soccer field mystery is solved. The Brewer family sold the land, for quite a good profit, to another family, apparently not residents of Skary. I guess they wanted a soccer field. They have a right to do what they want with it. I did notice a nice set of metal bleachers
has just been put in. Who knows? Maybe a soccer league would be nice around here.”

The mayor nodded, and kept nodding. He didn’t stop nodding. Martin resisted the urge to grab his head and make him stop.

“Anyway, the other exciting news is that Lois Stepaphanolopolis is starting a community theater!”

“A what?”

“A community theater. She’s written a play and says she has people knocking down her door trying to get a part in it. She’s planning a Thanksgiving Eve performance.”

The mayor grumbled. “What else?”

“Trudy’s little coffee shop is going well. New tables, a new counter, and a lot of different options. And I mean a lot. I never knew coffee could be had so many ways. She must order the beans straight from heaven, because it’ll cost you the treasure at the end of the rainbow to try a cup. I just order Trudy’s Special myself.”

“What’s so special about it?”

“It comes black with nothing in it. Anyway, it looks like the economy is picking up a little. For the first time in years, I see a little light at the end of the tunnel.”

The phone rang, and the mayor waved it off. “I don’t want to talk to anyone today.” He grabbed his coat. “I’ve got some things to do.”

Martin answered the phone as the mayor hurried out the front door.

“Mayor’s office.”

“I hear there’s a snake on the loose. Making everyone real nervous.” The man had a distinct accent. “Who is this?” “The answer to all your reptilian problems.”

Dustin walked out the front door of his home, letting the screen door bang shut the way his mother hated. He didn’t care.

“No calls,” his mother had told him when he got home from work. Not a single sighting. Had his snakes run away? He’d been sure that within a few days Bob and Fred would have returned. He would even sneak downstairs after his mother went to bed and crack the back door open, though he was sure Bob was smart enough to make his way into the house by other means. Fred tended to do what Bob wanted more than Bob did what Fred wanted. But there had to be a dominant, and Bob was really better at it. He had a larger head and seemed to sense danger better.

Dustin had nursed the snake back to health as a baby and taught Bob and Fred how to live with each other. Though it was a small breed of boa, it had already grown to nearly four feet. He’d come home that fateful afternoon from the bookstore and found that the snake had somehow busted the Plexiglas off one side of its terrarium. He’d hardly gotten any sleep since it had vanished. He worried, wondering whether it was okay and where it might go during the day since it was more nocturnal and probably busy hunting food at night. But were Bob and Fred able to find food? He felt a lump form in his throat.

As he sat on the steps of his front porch, a long shadow crossed his face, and he looked up. A tall, paper-thin man approached, and he didn’t look happy.

“Are you Dustin?” He spoke in a squeaky voice and smelled like hamster pellets.

“Who wants to know?”

“I’m Chuck. I’m the owner.”

“Of what?”

“Chuck’s.”

“The pet store?”

“That’s right,” he said in a stuffy voice as he crossed his arms. “And I’ve got a big problem.” “What’s that?”

“We’re having a hard time finding rodents to feed our pets at the pet store.” “So?”

“So my suspicions are that your two-headed freak of a friend is eating all the rodents in town.”

“Look,” Dustin said, standing up and broadening his chest, “I’m doing everything I can to find Bob and Fred. As soon as they’re back home, your rodent problem will be solved. I mail-order them special mice, anyway.”

Chuck cocked an eyebrow. “Is that so? Dustin, let me ask you something. And I want you to answer me honestly.”

“Sure. Whatever.”

“How much are you feeding your snake?”

Dustin frowned. “What kind of question is that? I’ve taken superb care of that snake! It would have died out in the wild because it can hardly decide which way to go in a life-threatening situation. I’ve done nothing wrong!”

“Son, just answer the question. How often do you feed it?”

Dustin met this man’s sharp glare. “Once a day. So back off!”

“You … you feed it once a day?”

“Of course I do. What kind of pet owner would I be if I let my snake go hungry?”

Chuck started tapping a nervous foot on the sidewalk. “Both of them?” he whispered.

Dustin was about to punch this freak. Why was he acting so weird? “Of course both of them. What am I going to do? Only feed one of them?”

“Don’t they share a stomach?”

“Yeah, so?”

Chuck swallowed so loud Dustin could hear it.

“What’s wrong?” Dustin asked.

Chuck said, “Boas normally eat once every week or ten days.”

They both stood there silently. Dustin was calculating how much money he could save feeding them once a week. But Chuck looked angry. “Do you see what you’ve done?”

“Yeah, spent a whole lot of money on food!”

“You’ve created an eating machine. That snake is used to eating every day. That’s why there aren’t any mice around. It’s eaten them all!”

“What will Bob and Fred eat next?” Dustin wondered aloud.

Chuck was rushing away.

“Hey! Where are you going?” Dustin yelled.

Chuck hopped into his car. “To quarantine my kids’ pet rabbit!”

C
HAPTER
5

“A
ND WHAT IS YOUR NAME
, little fellow?” Lois threw her voice, but she sounded like a pig on steroids. Maybe more of a cow inflection with a little frog thrown in would work. “And what is your name, little fellow?” Eck. That sounded like a lifelong smoker attempting to sound sexy. She never knew puppets could be so hard. Maybe the pig puppet shouldn’t be the one to greet the kids. Maybe the horse.

“Hello?”

Lois popped her head up from behind the cardboard box she’d fashioned into a castle. “Sheriff!”

The sheriff walked up to the stage hesitantly, like he was afraid a spotlight might catch him in its beam.

“Come on up here, big fella!” Lois urged, dropping the puppets on the floor and greeting him center stage.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Practicing my puppet skills. Never knew it was so hard. My hands get hot and sweaty, which makes it hard to grip these animals’ mouths. Believe it or not, Reverend Peck wants to start a puppet ministry.” She wiped her palms against the back of her pants, just in case she felt the need to touch Sheriff Parker. “So, what brings you by?” She noticed the script in his hand.

“Well, I read your play.”

Oh? What do you think?”

The sheriff stared at his boot-clad feet. “Interesting,” he mumbled.

“You liked it?”

“Sure. But I don’t want to play Sugar.”

“Why not?”

“Because I want to play Bart.”

“Barts the town sheriff.”

“I know.”

“Well, that wouldn’t be much of a stretch for you.”

“But I like him. He’s a laid-back kind of guy, doesn’t fuss about much, and really has just a few lines. Plus, I like his loyal dog friend.”

Lois tried to be tolerant. “Well, why not play Jefferson?”

“The town treasurer? He’s a little nervous and tedious, isn’t he?”

“Wouldn’t it be fun to play someone like him, though?”

“No.”

Lois sighed. “So are you saying the only way that you’ll be in the play is if you get to be the town sheriff?”

The sheriff nodded.

Lois smiled. “But you
will
be in the play?”

He puffed out his ruddy cheeks and blew out the air, causing his mustache to do a little wave. “One question for you.”

“Ask me anything.”

“Did you plagiarize?”
“Plagiarize?
Plagiarize what?”

“I don’t know,” the sheriff said. “This story just seems familiar. And I don’t want to be a part of anything illegal.”

Lois patted his broad shoulder. “You have nothing to worry about. I completely made this up, out of the deep places of my imagination and my life experience.”

“Well, in that case,” he said, managing a rare smile, “I think I will
do this. You know, with Ainsley gone I get a little lonely in that big old house. Why not do something like this?”

“Why not? I’ll send you a rehearsal schedule soon. Just make sure you’re studying your lines, okay? There may be a few revisions here and there.”

The sheriff nodded. As he made his way down the stage steps, he turned and said, “Lois, thank you.”

“For what?”

“For giving me something to do with my time.” He paused and said, “Besides hunt down that snake.”

Lois felt her heart skip a beat. But it wasn’t because of the snake.

Martin tried to relax in his favorite overstuffed chair, but there was so much on his mind, he was having trouble concentrating on any one thing. He sipped some orange juice.

His mother had always called him a worrywart—and with good reason. He was at his best when he was worrying. And he’d done his share of worrying about this town.

But no matter how much he worried, the town had seemed to be in a state of perpetual trouble ever since Wolfe Boone decided to stop writing his horror novels. And truthfully, Martin was somewhat relieved not to have to deal with tourists anymore. Though they brought a great deal of money, they also brought a great deal of strain. They tended to be pushy and inconsiderate. Now the town was quiet, just a town.

What Martin hadn’t mentioned to anybody, though, was the strange visit he’d received five months ago, from a handsome man in his late
thirties. He’d made an appointment with Martin, showing up right on time carrying an enviable leather briefcase and wearing a starched button-down shirt in a shade of pink that Martin thought impossible for a man to pull off. But he did.

His face was dotted with stubble, but strangely, it seemed more an accessory to his look than an oversight. His hair was short, his sideburns longer than those Martin had worn in the sixties, and he talked in an easy, conversational manner.

But the conversation was anything but ordinary. The man, whose name he couldn’t remember now, asked about property, economy, income level. Martin had answered all his questions—there was no reason not to. But Martin felt like he was discussing the private hopes and passions of his wife, had he been married.

Now he was starting to see the things he’d discussed with this man come to life. He’d wondered about sports leagues. He’d pressed Martin for the coffee-drinking habits of the citizens. And he asked if the people liked to treat themselves to some luxury.

Well, at the time, no. But Jack Hass had turned that around by opening his spa. The women loved it, and according to Jack, business was endless … and legit. Now, seemingly overnight, the small coffee shop that had been home to newspaper reading and gossip swapping, offered menu items peppered with the word
gourmet
.

Yesterday, Martin had driven out to the soccer field and stood by the roadside, trying to imagine it filled with children. Skary didn’t even have a school. The children were bused to the next county over. What if they did have a school? What if the town was alive with children, like it had been long ago?

Martin finished off his orange juice and fingered the pages of a script that Lois Stepaphanolopolis had dropped by earlier in the day. She told him she would like to consider him for the role of Gibb, a mayor
of a small town, and one of the love interests of the story. Martin had laughed, but later on, the thought didn’t seem that bad. After all, a community theater could bring some life to the town, and the best way to support it would be involvement. He picked up the phone.

And why not play the love interest? Sure, it was going to take some effort on his part to create a believable character, and he might have to start lifting weights, but there was not much in his life beyond this town that got him motivated.

“Hello?”

“Lois, it’s Martin Blarty.”

“Martin! Hi there. You just caught me walking in the door. I’ve been working on the set of the play.”

“You sound tired.”

“No, not at all. I’m thrilled. I’ve already gotten most of the play cast, and even some people to work as stagehands and run the lights. I think the show is actually going to go on!”

“Have you filled the part of Gibb, the mayor?”

He could hear her chuckle. “I only see one person playing that role, mister, and that is you!”

Martin couldn’t stop a grin from stretching across his face. “Sold!”

“Oh, Martin! That is wonderful news.”

“Lois, will you go out with me?” Martin was still grinning and laughing and feeling good about himself. But then there was silence on the phone, and Martin realized that he’d actually just said these words out loud. It was strange enough that he thought it, but then to say it? He groaned.

“Martin? Are you okay?”

“Fine,” he whispered. “Lois, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Did you just ask me out?”

Martin clawed his face. “Did I?”

“I’m asking you.”

“Out?”

Her tone got stern. “No … I’m asking you if you asked me out.”

Acid reflux was indicating that he indeed had asked her out. As it burned its way back down his esophagus, Martin was trying to remember the last time he’d had a date. He’d married his high school sweetheart, who turned out not to be sweet at all and incapable of graduating high school. He’d been single for twenty-five years and, that he could recall, hadn’t had a date. So what in the world would compel him to ask Lois, of all people, to go out? She was loud and obnoxious and smacked her gum … in the most charming way.

“Ich spreche kein Englisch
.”

“Martin? Are you choking?”

Now that was stupid. Since she didn’t speak German, she wouldn’t even understand he was trying to say he didn’t speak English.

“I’m fine,” Martin managed.

“Are you asking me out or not?”

“Yes?” Martin squeaked.

“Was that a question?”

Martin looked around for some antacids. “Yes.”

“Yes, you asked me out?”

Did he have to say it twice?

“Look,” Lois said, after he couldn’t answer, “if you’re wanting a different part, just say so. Sugar and possibly Plum are up for grabs. Personally, I think you’d make a great mayor, but what do I know? I’m just the writer, director, and producer.”

Martin combed the dead skin off his bottom lip with his two front teeth.

“But Martin, this isn’t Hollywood. You don’t have to go to such extreme measures to get the part you want. You can just ask.”

Martin believed that in every man’s life, there would be a moment of truth, that one moment in time that would never return if you let it slip away, and you would never know what your life might have been like. His fingers wrapped around the leather of his armrest. So far, Lois had sighed three times.

“Lois,” Martin said, “I meant it. I wanted to ask you on a date.”

He leaped out of his chair, squeezed his eyes shut, and was pumping his arm. But on the other end of the phone was complete silence. He stood in the middle of his knockoff oriental carpet, his arms flopped to his side, listening for any signs of life.

Was he on hold?

“Lois?”

“I’m here,” she whispered.

“You are?” he whispered back. He wasn’t sure why they were whispering, but it had been a while since he was in the dating scene, so maybe this was the new thing.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Martin paused. Was she sorry she was whispering? Sorry she couldn’t go on a date with him? Sorry he’d asked? He didn’t have much time to continue on with scenarios, because then she said, “I’m just so shocked. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been asked on a date.”

Martin smiled. This was a good sign. She was lonely and pathetic too.

“I mean, sure, I’ve had a few men look my way. But I wasn’t ever sure they were looking at me, you know? Maybe I looked like a favorite relative. And most people just see me as overbearing, which I can be, I’ll admit it. I have a mouth like a faucet and a tongue straight out of the flapper era, but I have a good heart, and most pushy people can’t say that. I’m a bulldozer, I won’t deny it. But there is this laid-back, mellow side of me that most people don’t see. It’s there, and it really is quite enchanting when I allow it to come out and play. Listen to me! I sound
like I have a split personality! But seriously, in Greek mythology, I’m what they call one of those sirens, except much more placid and not so noisy. Although I can make a racket if I feel passionate about something. I won’t stand down. You can’t tell me to sit and stay. My bite is like my bark.” Martin listened carefully for barking sounds.

“So,” she continued, “I’m looking forward to you getting to know me, Martin.”

“Me too,” Martin stumbled. “I mean, me getting to know you. Or you getting to know me. Us getting to know ourselves.”

“Pick me up at eight, tomorrow? Let’s dine at that new bistro.”

“What new bistro?”

“Haven’t you heard? It used to be called Pete’s Steakhouse.”

“What’s it called now?”

“Peter’s House of Steak.”

“Huh.”

“I’m looking forward to an evening filled with surprises,” Lois purred.

Martin cleared his throat of any suggestions he’d had about where to eat. Thankfully, Lois was on the ball, because five minutes ago he didn’t even know he was going to ask her out.