Fraidy Hole: A Sheriff Lester P. Morrison Novel (38 page)

“Some crazy people might,” he’d said, “But you won’t see any of that slime on my dinner plate. I don’t care if it does taste like chicken, or so they say.”

The thought of touching the snake, killing it, and eating it terrified her, so many things to go wrong.
Desperate times call for desperate measures,
she thought.
Are you that desperate
,
Lissa?
Her stomach said yes, but her mind said no.
Give it another day, girl.
See how you feel about it in the morning.

By now the light had all but disappeared, soaked up and devoured by the dank cellar walls. Melissa remained on the steps, determined to stay off the floor for as long as her aching muscles would allow. But only two hours later, the chiseled edges of the wooden steps eating into her buttocks and calves, the girl could take it no more. One cautious foot in front of the other, she felt her way down through the darkness, a step at a time, until a bare toe touched cold concrete. Two quick hops and her shin banged against the cot. She rolled on to it, drawing her legs beneath her, shivering. She felt for the jar, found the matches and the candle, and lit it. There were two matches left.

Chapter
30

At the sound of crunching gravel, Jason Woods popped his head over the seat of the dirt bike where he’d just finished hosing it off and wiping it down. Beneath the motorcycle, mounds of gooey red clay poked above the water puddles like miniature islands.

Lester and Billy Ray stepped out of the pickup. Jason grinned and said, “My, my, a pair of brown-shirts, come to arrest an innocent man.”

Billy Ray winced at the choice of words.

“What am I accused of this time
,
gentlemen?”

The Sheriff took a wide stance, hands on hips, facing the young man. It was immediately obvious to Jason Woods that this was not a social call.

“What’s up
,
Okie?” Jason asked, nodding to Billy Ray but keeping his eyes on the Sheriff.

“Sheriff wants to ask you a couple questions is all.”

“Do I need a lawyer?”

Lester answered, his voice hard, “Not unless you’re about to confess to a crime. Is that the case?”

“Quit jacking around
,
Jason,” Billy Ray
cautioned.
“This is serious.”

“A no-shitter?” Woods asked, his eyes going wide with feigned innocence.

“Do not mess with me son, I am not in the mood,” Lester said.

“Okay, okay, but if we’re gonna talk, can I go inside and get a beer first? I’ve been cleaning up this nasty bike for an hour. I’m thirsty and my tired is hangin’ out.”

“All right, but you go with him
,
Deputy.”

The mini-fridge inside the sleeping room had space for a 12-pack, barely. Other than the beer and a brick of cheese, the
shelves
w
ere
bare. Jason popped the tab on a Miller and whispered, “What the hell B.R.? Why’s the Sheriff acting like such a hard ass all of a sudden? You want a beer?”

“No, hell no, I’m on duty you dumbass.” Billy Ray glanced through the screen door. The Sheriff was staring at the house, arms folded across his chest, the impatience obvious. “We better get back out there. I’ll fill you in later. If you would have answered your phone…”

“Battery threw craps. I was gonna order a new one today.”

“Uh huh. Why are you home on a Monday anyway?”

“Boss changed our hours. Easier to make deliveries and talk to our customers on Saturdays he said. So now it’s Sunday and Monday for my off days. Kind of sucks. I always liked going out on Friday nights, ballgame and a bar, you know.”

“I do. C’mon, before the Sheriff has a hissy fit.”

“You girls having a love fest?” Lester yelled at the door. “Don’t make me come in there.”

Jason led the way to the yard with Billy Ray close behind.

The Sheriff took off his hat, wiped his brow, and checked the sky. Clear and hot. Hotter than normal for late September but not uncommon in this end of the state. The forecast was for more of the same, at least until the end of the week. Not a mention of rain.

“You want a beer
,
Sheriff?” Jason asked, hoping to calm the lawman.

“No, I don’t want a
g
oddamn beer. I want to ask you some questions young man. You’ve been hard to find recently.”

Jason shrugged and took a pull off the Miller.

“May I assume that, at some time in your life, you’ve been to the Pirate’s Den, that bar out on Highway 56?”

“Sure, I’ve been there. Last time was, oh let’s see, Thursday I think it was. Me and one of the other guys that work for Arnold Propane checked it out. Sometimes the place is full of biker dudes. Those boys sure know how to party.”

“Were you and your co-worker riding motorcycles that night?”

“Well, sort of. My Harley-Davidson, the one you see there in the back of the garage, has a blown piston. Hadn’t had the money to fix it. I got the dirt bike there
,
but it’s not exactly street legal.”

“Go on.”

“Kind of hate to admit it, but I was riding bitch on the back of my buddy’s bike.”

“Riding bitch?” Lester asked.

Billy Ray said, “Riding bitch means to ride two to a seat, like where the girlfriend or wife would be.”

“I see. Very colorful
,
Mr. Woods. Now, tell me about that night. Who was there and what did you see?”

Jason tipped the can before answering and took a hard swig, his Adam’s apple bobbing with each swallow. A trickle of beer ran out the corner of his mouth. Wiping it with the back of his hand, he said, “There weren’t any bikers. I remember that. But there were a few folks, more than normal for a Thursday I’d think. Um, there were a couple guys that looked like Mexicans and uh, oh hell, I don’t know, just people. Nobody stood out. Just juke box music and folks sitting around the tables. An old guy and woman were in a booth at the back if I recall. I played a couple games of pool.
Whipped my buddy’s ass
,
but we weren’t playing for money or anything. Nobody challenged the table and we left.”

“Was anybody outside, in the parking lot, or on the patio?”

With a face wrinkled in thought, Jason hesitated and said, “You know, I think there was. Yeah
.
Y
eah, a girl and
a couple of
guys. They were sitting on that ratty old couch.”

“And?” Lester coaxed.

“And nothing. It was pretty dark out there. I didn’t get a good look, didn’t try too hard although I think the girl was having a good time, laughing like she was. I might have tried to put a move on her if I’d been by myself but
,
as it was, me riding bitch and all…”

“I can see how that would be a problem,” Lester said. “Can you tell me anything at all about what the two men looked like; voices, hair, race?”

“Not really. If I had to guess, I’d say they were young, clean-shaven, and drunk, definitely drunk. Talking kind
a
loud, that sort of thing. Not that I would know much about that.”

“Is he always this full of shit
,
Billy Ray?”
Lester asked.

The deputy nodded, “Always.”

“So that’s it then? That’s all you can tell me?” Lester felt the sweat building up under his hat. The beer looked mighty good.

“That’s it,” Jason said as he drained the can. “Mind if I get another cold one?”

“No, go ahead,” Lester said, resisting the temptation. “But if you remember anything else, you
will
call the Sheriff’s office won’t you
,
Mr. Woods?”

“Of course. Always happy to do my part. But why the questions?”

Billy Ray said, “Remember the runaway girl I mentioned at last Friday’s game?
She never did show up. She’s officially
missing
.
The Sheriff thinks something’s happened to her. I have to agree. From what we know, she’s too good a kid to just take off like that and not tell anyone, even her friends. That’s why we need to find out who she was with last Thursday night. Are you absolutely sure you can’t recall anything else about those guys on the couch?”

“Dude, I would if I could.”

“All
right. Well
thanks for your help. Give me a call when your phone’s working again.”

“You got it. Later.”

Back in the pickup, Lester said. “Not to worry
,
Billy Ray. Your friend is probably in the clear as to Melissa being gone. His story is easy to check out and I’ll do it if it comes to that
,
but for now, I’m thinking we need a break, something to go on and run with. Any ideas?”

At the slam of the screen door, both men looked up.

“One other thing,” Jason Woods said. “I just remembered. Out in the parking lot? At the bar? There was this hot looking Mustang, a new one, shiny gray, just like the one Ford uses on their TV ads. Very cool machine. I’d give my left nut for one of those.”

“Thanks bud,” Billy Ray said. “Might be helpful.”

Jason grinned and saluted with his beer. “Get some,” he yelled as the pickup rolled away.

“What was that about?” Lester asked as he pulled onto Main Street.

“What?”

“Get some. What’s that mean?”

Billy Ray grinned. “Probably not what you think. It was an expression we used in Afghanistan. It meant get some Haji’s. Get a body, a kill.”

Lester shook his head. “I’m too old for this shit.”

Chapter 31

In the darkest corner of the cellar, the serpent, all 61 inches of it, lay semi-coiled and quiet, mostly hidden by the damp leaves. Every few seconds, its tongue flicked through the musty air, collecting particles to be sampled and analyzed with the scent organs in the roof of its mouth. The human was still there, somewhere to its left, the direction known by which side of the forked tongue held the sample. Its belly
was full, the rodent buffet
lasting
for
several days.
But now, there were new priorities. The urge to lie in the sun and seek warmer places was strong. Soon, it would need a hibernation ground, a south facing slope, preferably with trees. The steps of the cellar would not be a problem, not with its excellent climbing abilities, but that human was instinctively dangerous. The snake had no fangs and no poison but it could easily inflict a nasty bite if threatened. Its normal defense was to freeze, and hope to avoid detection but if spotted, had the ability to vibrate its tail and emit a foul musk if necessary. The snake, hatched from one of eight eggs, was now into its tenth year of life. If it was going to make it to the average age of fifteen, it needed to get past that threat at the base of the stairs. But for the time being, the Rat Snake was content to lie quietly, finish the digestion process of the most recent mouse, and wait for the
threat to go away.

*****

It had been a while but Melissa could still remember the show, another one of those survival tales on TV where a man was lost in the jungle with no food or water. What had stuck with her, what had bothered her so much, was when the dying man had killed his faithful dog for food only to find that that his stomach rejected the meat, his state of dehydration so severe that he couldn’t keep it down. The dog had died in vain.
What about the snake?
If she were to kill it, somehow clean it and eat it, would her stomach toss it back just as the Tequila had done with her last home cooked meal? Even if snake did taste like chicken as she’d heard, just the thought of raw snake meat going down her throat was enough to make her
gag.

Still
sitting
on the cot and judging from the shadows, she guessed the time of day as mid-morning. The cellar felt stuffy and was warming by the hour, the heat radiating from the big metal door above. As far as she could tell from her restricted viewpoint, there was nothing but blue sky outside; no clouds, no hint of rain, no chance for a drink.

Okay Lissa. Don’t just sit here and cry and die. Off your butt
,
girl! Move it!

She swung off the cot and stood, surprised when her legs wobbled a little. She hesitated before taking a step, unsure of her balance and ability to walk but the weak-kneed sensation passed.

“Admit it
,
Lissa, you’re
getting
weaker. You’re losing the battle. The clock is running out little girl, and you’re gonna have do things you don’t want to do if you’re gonna make it through this. Now suck it up.”