DEPARTUrE AND INVASION, EPISODE 2 of OK TWINS FRANCHISE, sequel to THICKER THAN WATER
by Patrick Breheny
Leroy Regal and Alfie Jones were the turnkeys at the OK Jail, which was operated by SUL (Securities Unlimited Corp), and their newly arrived guest was Strode Bollings, held locally on kidnapping, with Texas warrants for attempted murder and counts of assault, and a federal warrant for interstate kidnapping. He was a priority for these two guards, who had taken the SUL ‘4-Day Incarceration Methods’ course, and were sworn and certified deputies of the corporation.
Leroy Regal had a smart phone he usually hand held because his trousers were tight under his fifty inch waist, so it was a while before Alfie Jones realized, as Leroy stood in front of the cell bars, that he was taking pictures of the drunk and incapacitated Bollings. lying on a steel cot that did not yet have a mattress on it. His forearm served as a pillow, or maybe just happened to be under his head. Alfie asked,
“What’s that for?”
Leroy said, “They tell Bollings is a millionaire.”
“Oh. Yeah. So?”
“Maybe he wouldn’t like his current condition ever shown on TV.”
“Probably not”, Alfie said and whooped. “Bet not on the cover of the National Enquirer either.”
Alfie then shifted his slim weight from one foot to the other and back again. He seemed to be having trouble speaking up for himself, but came up with,
“What about me?”
“What about you?”
“You want it known who took these pictures?”
“Won’t that be obvious…. I can say it was you.”
“Could be somebody passing through. A lawyer. A cop come to question him.”
“Alfie, I believe you’re saying---You’d blackmail me?"
“No need to use words like that, Just---look out for a friend. A partner. And any photographs can be doctored. He’ll say its fake. I can vouch for his condition.”
“But then we’d be identifying ourselves. Blackmailing, violating our civic trust as jailors, and our oath to SUL.”
That conversation about legality and philosophy became suddenly irrelevant as they both realized Strode Bollings was no longer there .Leroy had his pictures, and when Alfie actually wet his pants upon the departation. Leroy filmed the aftermath of that, the big wet spot spreading on the front of his brown polyester standard issue orderly’s trousers at the zipper. Leroy wasn’t even trying to poke fun. He wanted veracity. They were going to have to somehow explain the disappearance on their watch.
This was at least the explanation they offered at Police HQ to Detective Dayton , then Dayton contacted the OK twins Sharon and Edgar
It was a rare day that all three---four with baby Georgie---could coordinate schedules and be at the loft office. They could just meet at the Guesthouse Behind---behind Carmen’s family house---where they were all residing now. But they wanted to discuss ideas for a new project, and meeting in the film office gave a gravitas to the business at hand, which included the question of whether they could afford to keep the loft if none of them were living there.
The twins had previously considered an anti death penalty film, but such had been covered both as journalism and fiction in their own state. There had to be more to say from other perspectives, but what?
It was Edgar who toyed with the computer as they sat in frustration of direction, checked e-mail, and saw Detective Dayton’s familiar icon.
“We just got something from Dayton.. He has a new case, wants to know if we can help.”
Sharon said “Lets find out.”
Carmen concurred.
Edgar called Dayton’s cell. Dayton knew Edgar’s number, answered and and asked, ”You guys willing?”
“What is it?”.”
“You’re on speaker. Who’s listening?”
“Just the three of us here”
“Where is here?
“The loft.”
“You heard the news yet?”
“I don’t think so.””
“I don’t want to tell you this. Get on the web under latest news.”
So they looked. A photo showed tomorrow’s Oklahoma City Tribune, with the headline BOLLINGS VANISHES and the rest of the front page was blank because the story copy wasn’t written yet. They didn’t know what to write. It was preposterous.Strode bought his freedom. That smart phone video was just FILM STOP FILM.
Edgar called Dayton back and expressed that, which Dayton too had postulated.
And said, “I still have to find him. Those two jailers aren’t capable of making up this Twilight Zone story. I’m on the way to you.”
Once Dayton arrived they started with perfunctory greetings, but when they were seated in the small office drinking coffee, Dayton said, “This one won’t be as easy as chasing him down to Wichita Falls and back. This was what? Not an out-of-body phenomenon. There was no body. Could he change locations, materialize somewhere else? Gone, he is Doesn’t look good nationally for us here. Hard to explain how they lost him, better that be done after the finding. You guys getting any feeling on this?”
Edgar said, “Sharon?”
“Nothing.”
He said to Dayton, “Me neither yet.”
“Where would you start?”
“In the cell.”
“Last place he was seen. Spoken like a detective.”
With the responsibility of Baby Georgie, Carmen was getting left out. sometimes. Dayton had wanted her to motivate Edgar during the search for Sharon, but now with the twins reunited, she didn’t seem needed.
A funny thing happened at the hoosegow, which was a jail farmed out to Securities Unlimited, and manned at the Big Desk by Captain Constantin Swanson in a blue military dress uniform with gold shoulder bars, his commission engraved with SUL
He said, directed, at the twins but intended for Dayton, “You need a warrant to go in there.”
Dayton replied, “I didn’t hear tell Bollings had one.”
“He was a prisoner. Can you say that?”
“This is a crime scene.”
“What’s the crime?”
“Well…you watch TV? You know,---escape.”
“If you think you have probable cause, you’ll need a warrant.”
“We shall get one.”
Dayton called a court judge on his cell, they went to lunch at Pancake Heaven, where the jokes flew about Sharon on a waitress’s luncheon, then went by the courthouse and Dayton picked up the warrant.
Back at the jail, Swanson read the order, fidgeted with the computer, then turned on the printer. In a moment, he presented Dayton with a cease and desist order, signed by the governor’s office and filed by Leroy Royal and Alfie Jones through attorneys with Securities Unlimited, overriding the warrant.
“Ah, but this is just a copy.”.
“Yes, copy. Don’t make me get the original.”.
“ All I want to do is give these two a few minutes in that cell to get a feeling.”
“I don’t see any few minutes exception on this.”
“As another lawman, which is what you are even if private hire, we make exceptions for each other”
“No can do. This comes from above.”
In their planning session, held at the House Behind, Dayton coached the twins .Edgar would be the arresting office, Carmen the suspect, because he didn't think he could et two people he'd already seen past Swanson. Sharon volunteered to watch Georgie and said, “Carmen’s caught our psychic virus, you know.”
“I do know, but I’d call it a gift not a virus.”
Edgar philosophized, “Oh, I don’t know.”
“It is, but yes, this is risky if it all goes south.”
The cell was used for interrogation. Dayton had only to “informally deputize” young Edgar---allowed by a 19th century Oklahoma territory statute still on the books---get a uniform that could fit his slim frame, with a mustache added, and send him to take in a prisoner.
In the cell was a small round unpainted, round, school cafeteria style steel table, with a bar the size of a home water pipe rising from its center. They called it ‘the pipe’. Dayton had told his rumpled deputy, swimming in the only uniform he had close to a fitting him,
that in entering he had to handcuff his prisoner to the pipe. Carmen was his‘ shoplifting prisoner’
Edgar used an ID badge card key to enter, and though there was no reason they’d be monitored unless requested, they’d been advised of the two way glass and a listening mike. They were to do what they were there for and not discuss it.
Edgar handcuffed Carmen to the pipe, sat silently and concentrated. After a few minutes, he unlocked her and they left.
Swanson wiped mustard from his mouth and remarked, “Fast.”
“Taking this one to booking.”
“So fast.”
“Had the evidence.”
“Why the interrogate then?”
“Possible accomplices.”
“You weren’t there long enough to ask.”
“Hungry, Captain. This is a first time misdemeanor. Judge will toss it.”
“So why the interrogate?”
“I need the overtime.”
“I know you?”
“Well, sure, I’ve been here before.”
“You have? When?”
“I am hungry, Captain Swanson.”
“How do you know my name?”
“On your chest plate.”
Well, it was on his chest plate, but he wasn’t wearing it. It was on the desk. Maybe it was chafing. At least the SWANSON side was up. Edgar pointed at it.
“If that’s not you, the last guy on duty left his.”
“How do I know you?
Edgar’s phone was on with Dayton listening. Dayton burst in the front door and said,
“Get your ass moving, deputy. We’re late.”
“Where’s your pickpocket going?”
Dayton said, “Home. Kick out. Why waste the court’s time?”
“You don’t remember the offense?”
“You just said it.”
“Your deputy told me shoplifting. Stores want us prosecuting those.”
“No evidence. False arrest. She can sue the store.”
Swanson said, “Now I get it.”
“Captain, your report this, they’re going to think you’re really stupid”
Leroy Royal had a hobby that he tried to keep from interfering too much with his work life. In off hours, he found the baser side of life in OKC, a run of lean-tos near the railroad yards, dubbed by its frequenters as Crack Camp. One might think that his day job could make his leisure activity dangerous, but the denizens of The Camp knew him favorably for his favors when they got busted. It was nothing personal, he hadn’t arrested them, they were glad to see him there for a little taste to alleviate withdrawal, provide some tailor made cigarettes, a little this, a little that. Nothing like a home boy as the jailor.
Dayton explained to the twins, case they didn’t know, crack is inordinately expensive, exponentially. A pimp wants his stable on heroin, not crack. Crack takes all the money. At a glance, it seems not so expensive. A $20 rock. But if you need a rock every twenty minutes, that’s $60 an hour, and crackheads don’t sleep, so twenty hours is $1200. That’s the basic economy of it for a confirmed addict. Dilettantes like Leroy could manage to work and function in a fashion with a few restroom visits per shift.
Edgar and Dayton went across the tracks, Dayton outfitted with a Harley, his arms bare, and a vest that said Black Warriors. If any in the Camp had ever been bikers, they’d long ago sold off their choppers, pride and souls, caring not much about anything but the next rock, much less whether or not Dayton was a real biker...
Dayton had enough crack with him to engage Leroy in willing conversation. He had already baited him with a couple of hits when he said, “What say we get off these produce crates and take a walk along the tracks?”
Leroy was amenable to the request and they strolled, he between Dayton and Edgar,.
Dayton said, “Now Leroy, off the record, we do have to know where Bollings went.”
“It didn’t show on the film.”
“We know that.”
“No, I mean what happened didn’t show on film.”
“Okay.”
“We saw his spirit depart. That’s why Alfie wet his pants, not because Bollings’ body left.”
“You mean---the body remained?”
“Roger that.”
“Well, where?”
“He’s in the morgue, but he’s alive. Alive, but---um---unresponsive.”
“Shouldn’t he be in a hospital?”
“His vitals are gone, he has no pulse, no blood pressure or heart beat, but he keeps on breathing. What I’m afraid of, his spirit will go back to the jail and he won’t know where his body is.”
“Could this come from this smoke you’re doing?”
“Could also be that’s why I’m receptive to it.”
The clerk at the morgue, Bert ‘Calamity’ Brunswick, gave a run-down in case they were novices, of which, of course, one was and one wasn’t.
“The long termers, after just a few days, you can’t tell anymore black or white, male or female. We’re all the same in the end. Rotten meat.”
“Reassuring. If I just wait long enough…”
“That’s why the Polaroids. Only people on the planet still using Polaroid cameras.”
“In Africa, Calamity?”
“Okay, show me the recent MIAs.”
“Well, there’s been a drought. Only one in, the strange one you’re looking for.”
“Show me.”
They looked at a plastic photo in that Polaroid Technicolor Bollings looked like he was drunk but sleeping fitfully under a tempest..
“Where is he now?”
“On ice.”
“Let’s see.”
‘Can’t.”
“Why is that?”
“He’s classified. The FBI, CIA” 11.
“Don’t stonewall me, Calamity. I have to see.”
“No can do.”
Outside, Edgar said, “We have to go to skid row again.”
“What for?”
“He’s there.”
The ‘sessions’ were in a cardboard and corrugated tin hand-assembled shed actually rented from the squatter there. Light was by candles on an old card table covered by appliance wrap clear plastic. Dayton was back as biker, Edgar as his comedy relief sidekick. They were acknowledged by slight nods, no exchange of eye contact. Around the table were six men, looking quite down in luck, and one was speaking, as much to the recent arrivals as the group.
“Nobody knows us like we know ourselves, and we don’t know ourselves. That’s our manifest.”
The others were moved to groans and sighs and grimaces.
“So we’re capable of big time self examination…”
Affirmations of that.
“…and justification.”
That brought a chorus of knowing guffaws. The speaker was in his late sixties, Caucasian, white haired, frailly thin, worn out from abuse---a physical stereotype of a vagrant.
Edgar had told Dayton what this was. These were the separated-from-their-bodies who had claimed a recently deceased, one nobody would likely be looking for, as they sought a way of rejoining their originals. After they left the shack, Edgar said, 12.
“That speaker. That’s Strode. And he thinks his body is still somewhere in the jail.”
“Recognize you?”
“I don’t know. Never looked fully at me. They don’t. Afraid of betraying themselves.”
Dayton got another warrant, this one to enter the morgue, but as they arrived, planning to enact it, Edgar said, “It’s not there now. He got in here before us. He did see me back there.”
“But got out again as Bollings? How?”
“Bollings’ way. He bribed Calamity.”
“Naked off a slab?”
“His clothes and property were there. ID cards. All part of the transaction.”
Then Edgar said, like he was getting seasoned and it happened all the time now, “Hit and Run, Snatch and Flee---Join and Split.”
“Right. Another one of those.”
“Those guys in the shanty….”
“Stop.”
They had to bear down on protecting Sharon. Strode was Strode again, but couldn’t show as such. He had to disguise himself or take over other bodies.
He became OKC’s Most Wanted. You might wonder why he didn’t leave Oklahoma. They did---kind of wished he would---but, well, he just seemed to like it there. 13.
And there were those guys from the shanty…Strode wasn’t the only one.
Carmen was at the loft to pick up mail, reply to e-mails. There was a knock on the door. She wasn’t as casual as Edgar in their innocent days before Sharon got kidnapped, and he used to just say “Come in.”. She was a woman, and had locked the door.
From the desk, she called, “Who is it??
“It’s Rake Jones, Carmen.”
Rake Jones. Seduced her with oaths of love when she was in high school, he a handsome young adult co-worker at McDonalds He never acknowledged paternity, knew she was Catholic and would have the baby, hung around until her pregnancy was trimester, then disappeared.
“Rake?....Bad timing. We’re all busy right now in here..”
“Ha-ha-ha. ‘All’ are you and a baby, whatever you named it.”
He saw her go in alone? But how could he be sure nobody else was in there?
Conveniently, the last ideas conversation with Edgar and Sharon about another film project had been recorded to remember everything, and she had just been ready to listen to it. She pressed PLAY for the audio DVD , and three voices sounded like they were having that discussion right now.
“I just come to talk, see how you’re doing.”
She had to coordinate her response to not coincide with her recorded voice. While Sharon and Edgar were talking, she said,.
“Oh, we have a lot to talk about. Like child support.”
She took her phone and pushed Detective Dayton’s cell number.
“We need to make up, Carmen. I just had to get away for a while, get my head straight.”
Dayton was asking her, “What’s up?”
She said, “Just listen.” Then to Rake, as if she’d said ‘listen’ to him, “You need an appointment to come here. You’re trespassing. Get out of here or the police are coming. They’re my friends.”
“You never could lie, Carmen.”
Dayton said “Speaker.”
She turned it on.
Booming with authority, Dayton said, “If you’re there when the patrol car comes, you’re under arrest, buddy.”
She heard his shoes on the wooden stairs.
“I think he left.”
“They’ll be there in five minutes. I need about ten.”
“If a car is coming, that should do.”
“Something else to talk about anyway. See what Sharon and Edgar are up to.”
“Okay.”
Five minutes was a long time. He could be downstairs. She called Sharon. Being a Sunday, the twins were at their family home, their home being the ‘house behind’, behind Carmen’s family residence, where the three of them and Baby Georgie were living for safety since Sharon’s misadventure and Strode’s escape. If Rake was back Carmen needed support. Sharon figured they could get there by the time Dayton did.
The city car showed up in the promised five minutes, with a male and female officer who took a report of Rake’s visit as a harassment incident. When Dayton got there, the uniforms left, then Edgar and Sharon arrived.
Strode Bollings, Sharon’s abductor, had escaped jail, and that was another mission Dayton was working Edgar’s ESP on--- itself a good reason for Carmen to be skittish about being in the loft alone, even for a few. She hadn’t even begun to imagine Rake’s return, but they’d received a lot of publicity saving Sharon and capturing Bollings, plus the National Enquirer likes psychic phenomenon, and featured them on a front page.
Dayton said, “It’s blatant. Reappears when he sniffs opportunity.”
“I got that.”
“Any idea where he’s staying?”
“When he lived here, it was with his drunken old man, who threw him out because he wasn’t paying rent.”
“ Maybe he’s coddled his way back with a promise to somehow cash in on you.”
With her occasional self deprecation, Carmen said, “Somebody wants something of monetary value from me?”
“Prospective, you know. Doesn’t have the angle yet. Does he have friends he might be with.” “Believe it or not, he and Strode Bollings hung together.”
“And maybe will yet. Bollings was looking for himself, but that’s another story” “I’ll get some scoop on Rake Jones, find him, we’ll make him prove by science no paternal obligation if that’s his claim. Not much to prosecute on the harassment if all he did was knock on the door, but a lot of back support due when he’s proven the papa.”
“He is. There was no one else but him, and only twice, conned by love”
“I believe you.”
Sharon said, “You must get days off too. Thanks for coming here on a Sunday.”
“Oh, my day off this week isn’t Sunday. And a cop is always on duty.”
“And something else is afloat?”
“Well in fact, there’s an issue that is troubling me. I’m partial to dogs. We all know there are a lot of strays, city collectors can’t keep up with them, and now we have a serial dog killer..”
“For how long?”
“Just going back a couple of weeks, but prevalent, and only the loose.”
Edgar said, “Somebody with a sick grudge.” “I would think so. Got barked at.”
Sharon asked, “Only strays?”
“Like he’s being careful. Stays away from respectably owned pooches. Edgar’s on top of helping me look for Strode, but any gleams any of you get into that or a dog killer. don’t hesitate to share it with me. I’m going to try to find Rake now, Carmen, but to employ that film terminology you’re sometimes adapting, I’d call it a wrap here Rake might still be lurking nearby.”
Dayton found out where Rake Jones’ pa Rather Jones lived, which was essentially in an old wooden cabin outside the city, but still in his jurisdiction. There was smoke rising erratically and angrily into the breeze, from a chimney that seemed hooked to a potbelly stove. It was hard to imagine he could have demanded much in the way of rent from Rake.
Dayton tapped on the door with his knuckles. Someone inside moved to it, then could be sensed physically on the other side by rustle, and queried with a creaky voice “Who’s out there?”
“Fuller Brush man.”
“He don’t exist anymore.”
“Oh no! Then who AM I?”
There was a crackly laugh from what sounded like a codger on the other side, who said “You must be okay.”
The door opened a slit, and Dayton stepped to the side out of firing range. Loner country types tended to have arms handy. Dayton saw a wrinkled face from a hard lived life, as warm air wafted out with a scent he immediately recognized as crack smoke. So the old man wasn’t just a drunk. Maybe not a drunk at all. Dayton didn’t see on that aged face any immediate realization that he ‘made’ Dayton as a cop, as a career criminal would have. Dayton had checked his background, the coot wasn’t a player, never did time, didn’t have a rap sheet. If he’d recently recruited himself to crack, he might be picking up those street skills, but the smell alone wasn’t justifiable cause for entry without a warrant .and if the old guy was using now, he’d know that much.
But no. He asked, “How much for a rock?”
In his world, old or new, there were buyers and seller? He thought Dayton was a dealer, not a cop? How could he think…?, Crack camp, where Dayton had been with Edgar, looking for Strode. “How much you usually pay?”
“You’ll do better?”
“How’s free?”
“Bullshit.”
“I don’t have it with me, have to come back.”
“With the posse?”
Maybe made a cop at last.
“ No, to give you.”
“I’m not a snitch. What’s the deal”
Sine he didn’t know himself yet, Dayton said, “Tell you that on the rebound.”
“When will that be?”
“When I can.”
“You seem to know where I am”
The door closed.
Dayton had some of that crack he bribed at Crack Camp with him, next visit to the Jones estate when he used what he thought might be becoming his signature knuckles tap. Especially thought so when old Rather again opened the door the same small amount the chain allowed.
And asked, “Now what?”
“Like I said, free samples.”
“Seeing is believing.”
Dayton showed his ‘cards’, two rocks of crack cocaine in his palm.
Old guy said, “Never heard of a cop selling, much less giving it away..”
Dayton thought, he made me, just can’t believe it possible, unless I’d be a renegade wanting to sell a quantity of evidence. But----to Rather?
Rather persisted, “So, are you?”
Not a question Dayton wanted to answer. For all he knew, the guy was recording this.
“You want my presents or you don’t?”
The door closed, and her a moment Dayton thought the answer was no. But then he heard the chain came off and the door fully opened. A slave to addiction, Rather stood with his hand extended. He looked like a scarecrow, tall and skinny with hair like wild yellow weeds, wearing courd trousers and a red checked plaid shirt, neither looking tailored this decade. He had no shoes, at least on, and that hand was gesturing with impatience.
“Not that easy. I want to go in.”
“Got a warrant?”
“A what? What’s that? I got dope.”
“Why you want to come in?”
“Just to chat.”
“I told you I aint no snitch.”
Dayton could easily adapt to street talk. He said, “Yeah, we done had that conversation.”
“Why you want in?”
“Fuller Brush man.”
“With your sample case your hand. Time’s change.”
“Sharp old-timer you are.”
“Smart’s how you live to be one.”
But he didn’t move out of the doorway.
Dayton said, “You can stand here all day if you want to, but I won’t. What you want to do?”
He paused, then said, “Shit.! Welome to my manse,” and left Dayton space to go in.
There was, in the shabby interior, a couple of hard wooden chairs and an armchair that looked dragged out of a dumpster, Rather’s bedroll was by the only window, and, with the stove, those items filled the room With so little space, Dayton wondered if Rake slept in the chair when he lived there. There were doors apparently to a closet and bathroom, and Dayton wondered if Rake could be in either of those right now.
“Anybody else here?”
“You see anyone?”
“Anyone I don’t see?”
\ “Nope.”
“Can you show me?”
“Why?”
“Because, sir, what we’re doing right now is illegal.”
“Look for yourself then.”
“I’ll meet you halfway. You open that bathroom door and I’ll look in the closet.”
Rather moved across the room to the bathroom and opened the door on a tiny space that had a commode and sink. It was visibly obvious no one was in there. Dayton had his hand on his pistol grip when he pulled the closet open, to be met by some threadbare shirts and jackets on wire hangers. and a battered suitcase on a high shelf.
Rather indicated the armchair and said, “You can sit on the guest throne, but I don’t have any refreshments right now.”
“Just had liunch.”
“More than I can say. I met your conditions, now put up.”
Dayton gave him the two rocks. Rather had a pipe ready in seconds and fired up with a lighter. He coughed, then congenially asked, like an afterthought, “You want a hit?”
Dayton snapped his fingers. “You know, I have to think about that. Do I really have anything to do for the next twenty years?”
“Some of us don’t have to think that far ahead anymore”
“Life gives us its blessings with its challenges.”
“You know, you’re alright in your way, but just asking, what the hell do you want?”
“I]m looking to meet your son, Rake.”
“Son of a gun!” Didn’t say ‘bitch’, maybe being the papa, but it sounding close.”Aint seen him for a while. What interest you have there?”
“He owes a friend of mine a lot of money.”
“Oh, if you’re looking for moola from Rake, you’d find more water in Death Valley. And he left out of here.”
“He’s back around.”
“Not here he aint.. And if he ever is, what you expect me to do? He is my boy.”
“Just, you see him, tell him what I said.”
“I sure will if that will get me another treat from you. Just no information about him.”
“You got it.” “
“Saying I talked to him is information though. Just no more than that.”
“As long as you don’t make it up”
“Now why would I do that? How would I contact you?”
Dayton wasn’t about to present his OKC Detectives Division business card. He took a pen from his shirt packet. “Don’t think to bullshit me or you’ll owe me back. You have something to write on”
Rather found an old McDonald’s napkin, maybe a souvenir from Rake’s last known job, and Dayton wrote his cell number on it.
Rather read it and asked, “You have a name?”
‘Told you. Fuller Brush Man.”
You prefer Fuller or Mr. Mann?
. As in THE man.? “Fuller’s okay.”
“Okay then, Fuller. Like I said, I’ll relay a message. That much I can abide. This shit is good. You got any more where this is from if I pay?”
“Not dealing.”
“So, maybe we’ll be talking.”
“I hope so.”
Fame wasn’t paying bills yet, and Sharon had a customer who slid into a booth alone, one of those types she was supposed to ask to show the money first or she’d get charged if they turned out to be on Dine and Dash .She barely knew Rake Jones, but when she recognized him she wasn’t so reluctant about asking for proof of payment capacity. She didn’t bring a menu, just took her time approaching the booth, then asked, “What’ll it be?”
“A coffee.”
If anybody else ditched, she’d be okay for a coffee because they served free refills, but for Rake she asked, “Can you pay?”
As he yanked a five dollar bill from his trousers side pocket she remembered Dayton and Carmen would like to locate him. She laughed.
“Just joking about the cash. Of course I’d serve you a coffee.”
“Sss okay. Other places don’t joke. I get used to it.”
”Well I was joking.. Back in town, I see. You staying at home again?”
“Nah, since pa died it’s too creepy for me there.”
“I hadn’t heard. Sorry. So…where are you living?”
“Now wouldn’t Carmen like to know that?”
“Yes. She misses you.”
“My big overgrown toenail.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. Asks about you all the time.”
“Is she living at your house?”
She could lie and tell him yes, but that would mean trouble for her parents.
“I wouldn’t recommend going around my house. My parents are kind of edgy since my ordeal “
“If she’s there, you won’t tell me, but you know where she is.”
“I think for the moment she’d like her whereabouts to be a secret.” She was thinking, call Dayton. Now. “So, one coffee coming”
“Nah, I’ve wasted enough time here.. Have my agenda to tend to.”
He stood up, tall and stringy like she remembered Rather, and said. ”Nice to see you, Shannon.”
Did he just speech slur?. She hoped he really didn’t remember her name.
Edgar and Dayon were at the loft.
“Nobody’s spotted him. Are you feeling he’s still around here?”
“Yes, and if he’s gotten adept at inhabiting recent cadavers, so maybe that’s what he does, then hides his own carcass.”
“Any inclination where?” “No, not even that he’s doing it, but his family home would be logical site to get a warrant for.”
“Local court doesn’t favor psychic intuition nor harassing the Bollings. I know Raymond the House Man from the warrant search when Sharon was kidnapped and the papa Oliver Bollings is in Europe now. I think Raymond would just let me in if I’ll called him”
Dayton commented, “So,Edgar, this is the shanty Strode Billings came out of. Poor kid!”
Access to the front of the stone mansion had been surprisingly easy, and the door was opened by Raymond.
They were allowed to look, and there is one enclosed long drawer in the den, built into the wall, but it just wasn’t long enough for a reclining body.
Dayton asked, “What’s in there?”
Raymond said, “That you can’t open.”
“ I don’t mean to disrespect your cooperation, but you allowed entry to the house knowing I’m police and I can look anywhere.”
“No, you can’t start searching everywhere without a reason. There is private treasure in there, and I can’t allow you access.”
“So THIS is where the Holy Grail is. In Oklahoma City, Edgar!”
“You re looking for missing young Mister Bollings, and it is surely evident that this space is not big enough for him to fit in.”
“Not alive.”
“Please! Corpses have an odor.”
“Most did until recently.”
Dayton’s phone rang. He was outside the Bollings’ house, just left with Edgar.
“Your sister. Hello, Sharon.”
“Rake Jones was just in my restaurant. He told me his father passed away a while back.””
“No, I recently talked to his father.”
“What if you weren’t talking to him? To an imposter?. Or one of those guys from that camp.?”
“Rake could be lying.” He could, but the Camp crew got those cadavers before they’d been discovered and reported. “You’re thinking it was Strode I was talking too?”
“Possibly..And I got an inkling of something else.. Remember that National Enquirer story told all about the feral dogs that considered him as a KFC treat when he was passed out.? That’s a motivation for killing stray dogs.”
“He’s just sick enough to do it.”
“I won’t argue that point.”
Dayton went back and tapped on Rather’s door, which opened wide.
Rather said, “I aint seen him, but I’ll take a rock anyway.”
“If I can come in.”
“Sure, why not?”
Inside, Dayton said, “I’ve been asking around, and folks say you sort of disappeared for a spell.”
“Can’t a man have a life? People on the outskirts here gossip like in a little town.”
“Yeah, it has that quality, but just out of curiosity, where did you go?”
“I don’t have to tell you that.”
Dayton showed him two more rocks. ”No, you don’t.”
“I just did a little fishing.”
“Where?”
“The lake”
“You can get there and back the same day.”
“I wanted to stay.””
“How long did you go for?”
“A few days.”
“Catch anything?
“A bad cold.. Why you ask so many questions?”
“Only way to learn anything.” Dayton gave him his reward. ”Smoke ‘em up, I’ll be back.”
“You are a strange feller, whatever you’re about.”
“”You should talk.”
“See you next time. I know your knock.”
They weren’t all reinhabiting cadavers at Crack Camp. Some were originals. Dayton wasn’t particularly surprised to find Rake there, he’d had a tip, and he got Rake’s trust too with a couple of rocks.
Then said, “I met your pa today..”
Rake said, “You’re not even smoking and you talk like that?” “You’re going to tell me that bullshit he’s dead?
“Man, I found him.”
“Didn’t you do anything? A report? A service?”
“He’d thrown me out. All I owed him I did. Called it in.”
Dayton had confirmed that much. The 911 operator got an anonymous call about a dead man there, the door was unlocked, and there was no body. It was a cold OPEN UNSOLVED DISAPPARANCE, possibly kidnapping, homicide or hoax, that was not evidentiary enough to warrant much investigation.
“What if I take you to meet him.”
“What are you talking? Ghost?”
“Living human.”
“I told you I saw…”
“And I told you I SAW. Maybe he’s just a stand-in living in your old home. Let’s go and see. I’ll keep you high while we do.”
Rather, or ‘the occpant’, opened the door to the knock and they both walked in. The occupant, whoever he was, certainly looked spooked by Rake. Rake was speechless except for, “My God Almighty!”
Occupant spoke to Dayton. “I see you found him yourself.”
Dayton said, “Rake.”
Rake jumped like he’d been goosed. “What?”
“Earth here. Ask him some questions only you and he could know the answer to.”
“Huh?...Yeah. I see. Okay… .Hey, what was Ma’s name?”
“Mrs. Jones.”
“What did you call her?”
“Ma.”
“I called her Ma. What did you?”
“Been too long. I can’t remember.”
“Where did we live when I was ten?”
“Weren’t we here already?”
“No.”
“You’re talking ancient history then.”
“What’s my middle name?”
“Why you asking me questions you know the answer to.?”
Dayton said, “To see if you know, Strode.”
Rake and the occupant spoke simultaneously and incredulously. The occupant said,, “WHAT?” and Rake.“STRODE?”
“Let’s go, Rake.”
They went outside and it was Dayton who had to close the door.
Rake looked at the unsmoked rock in his hand and said, “What’s in this?”
“Sometimes the truth.”
“Strode?”
“I can’t be sure, but he’s not your father.”
“But the spittin’ image.”
“Of course, if he invaded him.”
“I know Strode. I can ask him some questions only me and him know.”
“Let’s try.”
They heard the door get locked, the chain set. Dayton did his knuckles routine.
No response.
Rake said, “More samples.”
And Dayton, “Come out, out, whoever you are.”
Rake added, “Or whatever.”
There were no more sounds from inside.
Dayton said, “The occupant isn’t playing anymore.”
“I can kick it in.”
“And do what?”
“Drag his ass out.”
“Not advisable. .I can’t break in there.”
“Well I can.”
“No, you can’t. I’d have to arrest you.”
“What?”
“I’m presenting. I’m a cop. That’s not the way to handle it. It won’t tell us who he is.” “You said Strode.”
“A hunch.”
“I’d beat the answer out of him.”
“ He’s dead, remember.”
“Could have fooled me.”
“Seems he did once. Abandoning him like you did is close to Homicide by Negligence”
“You’re going to pop me?”
“No. Just cooperate with me. I’m not trying to bust you or anybody from the camp.”
“The money Carmen says I owe?”
“You owe. You’re just not of any means to deal with that right now.”
“Right now? You’re going to get me in recovery?”
“No-o. I didn’t say that. I’m going to keep you high so you help me.”
“My old man never smelled like that.”
“No, he is dead now, and starting to decay. The occupant has to let go of your pa soon.”
Edgar still had a job too, and Dayton visited him at the bookstore. asked “Can you take a break?”
They went to a Campus Luncheonette.booth. After Dayton filled Edgar in, he said,
“If this is Strode at the Jones shack, he has to get back to himself, We need to find his physical being. You sensing any location?”
“It depends on how aware he is of what’s happening in the world.”
“Meaning?”
“His obsession with Sharon. He’d want to be close to Pancake Heaven if he thought she still worked there, or to ‘the house behind’ if he knows we’re living there.”
“What time do you finish work?”
“In an hour.”
“How about we look together?
“Okay. Works.”
“ If we find Strode’s entity, we have to hide it from him”
“Yeah, he’s attached. The devil you know He could be quite frustrated if he couldn’t get back into it once in a while.”
“Maybe couldn’t survive long.?”
“I wouldn’t think so.”
On the way back, in Dayton’s car, Dayton mused,
“I think they have to get a recharge in themselves. Like a life booster.”
“Exactly’”
I “But where do they find new subjects later?”
“ I’m sensing they hang around hospital wards that have terminals patients.”
“Or emergency rooms?”
“Could be. That wouldn’t work well from car wreck or gunshot victims, but maybe somebody who had a stroke or a heart attack. Strode’s spirit could have found Rather by accident, looking at the cabin to find out where Rake was. I hate to say this, but I’m thinking maternity wards too.”
“We have to do immediate surveillance at that cabin, see where Strode, or whoever, goes.to recover his own entity.”
\ “Starting…?
“Now. I’ll pull the first shift until midnight, but I need you later to keep watch. Get some sleep until midnight, then come and relieve me I’ll come back in the morning so you can go to work. We can recruit the women for shifts too”
“Don’t you keep office hours?”
“Not many when I’m investigating an escape.”
“I hate to sound selfish, but you get paid for this and we don’t.”
“When we’re credible, dude.’
A radio was playing country. Dayton knocked differently, several bangs, and let loose a loud catcall whistle. The radio volume lowered, and he heard “What the…”, then the cautious resident said no more, and the music rose to its previous level
Dayton was parked off the road in semi-woods, on the door side of the cabin from where he could watch it, and with a presence confirmed, he quietly woods-stepped back to the car. The cabin window wouldn’t give a sightline from inside to the stakeout, but Dayton would see somebody coming out it. The moonlight was bright enough in the clearing around the shack to observe the door and window.
Sitting alone surveilling isn’t the most stimulating of endeavors, and he passed the time, with the windows up, chatting low with his family, and explaining all to Sharon and Carmen---who were outside and on speaker so they could converse together, but far enough away from their house that they wouldn’t wake Edgar.
Then, at about 11:30. the door opened and the resident stumbled out and staggered into the old jalopy in front. He didn’t notice Dayton’s jeep in the dark brush, and was anyway distracted by his own malaise.
It took several resistive grinding attempts to get the car to start, but it did, and moved out to the two lane road where its headlights came on. Dayton followed without lights. He couldn’t do that for long, they were headed toward the city, and at the intersection with the highway, when he saw other cars, he turned his lights on. He believed his target was too distressed to notice him. He pressed Edgar’s number, and when he picked up, said, “Forget guard duty. He’s moving. So am I. I’ll tell you where he goes when he does.”
Oh my. He was going south toward Lawton. If it was indeed Strode, was his objective the shed outside Wichita Falls he’d abducted Sharon to? He didn’t seem in condition to get that far before “Rather” gave out on him, if even to make it to Lawton. And beyond OKC limits, Dayton was again pursuing outside his jurisdiction. There were protocols, he should summon local enforcement, but he couldn’t give up this tail.
It was to Lawton that he went, and to the Bare Ass, the abandoned strip club where Strode ended up with Sharon, and was captured. Dayton saw “Rather” go in with a key, and he wanted to do this right, bring in Lawton police, but what could he tell them that wouldn’t get him referred for PTSD. He’d rather explain all this when they might believe him.
He parked and wished he could be invisible to just look and see what was happening inside the trashed club, but he did find a dirty window to peer through. The street was still full of abandoned strip clubs waiting for the wrecker, and some mean looking curs were the only witnesses to see a grown man peeking into an empty strip joint.
Strode’s form, as Dayton remembered it, was slumped in a booth like a passed out drunk, head dropped almost to his chest. .”Rather” sat beside him. Something like steam or vapor rose from Rather, he slumped then, and the vapor encompassed Strode, seemed to evaporate in him, and Strode’s head came up.
Strode stood up, and yes, went for the bottle of whisky he’d only half finished last time. While he was wiping the dust off the neck with his shirt, Dayton had a revelation. He had a small inventory for just such situations. He went to the club door and did his knuckles rap. No acknowledgement right away, so he did it again. The second time, he heard movement by the door. He said, “Samples”
Strode opened the door, the bottle in his hand, but it didn’t seem he’d started yet. .Dayton showed his entry fee, rocks in his hand, and said, “Mind if I join you?”
Strode let him in. Dayton looked at Rather’s now-for-sure corpse and said,
“This is where he went! We never thought to look here. So well preserved.”
“I don’t think for long.” He accepted Dayton’s gift. “Care to smoke with me or have a drink?”
“Neither are my thing. How did you get into crack?”
“Crack Camp after I escaped jail. It cures alcohol, you know. I didn’t want to drink anymore when I started smoking.”
“You were ready to now.”
“I didn’t have this.”
“It’s an ill wind that blows no good. But you only drank once in a while. This you have to keep getting.”
“I hope you brought more.”
“I can get it.”
“Are you going to arrest me? I’ll just get away again.”
“That is a consideration. I don’t know what to do about you.”
“So don’t do anything.”
“You mean you’ll be a good boy now? You plan to just leave Rather here, huh?”
“I gave him a bit more time. Got him high. Nothing else to be done Nobody cares, not even Rake.”
“How long you going to stay as Strode?”
“I like being myself. Except when you’re a fugitive, you have to conceal. Maybe I’ll try disguises.”
“Put on a Groucho mask?”
“I have a lot of money, Only you know where I am.”
Well, no. Edgar, Sharon and Carmen knew. He’d been in contact with them while he pursued, and they were trailing his GPS signal.
“You believe I’d take a bribe?”
“You steal from the evidence locker.”
Only for good causes, but if he played along that he’d take money, in continuing payments, he might know where Strode went.
Strode suddenly cocked his arm with the bottle in his hand. Dayton moved back fast to not get slugged, and prepared to duck or dodge when he threw it.. But he wasn’t’ aiming at Dayton. One of the stray dogs had pushed open the unlocked door, and the bottle flew at it. It broke on the concrete floor and against the door. Shards scattered, and the dog yelped and retreated, leaving the door ajar.
Strode said, “Vicious fuckin; mutts.”
He’d just confirmed Sharon’s theory about the dog killer. Dayton had to keep the twins and Carmen away now, to make this monetary deal credible.
“That pup’s just hungry.”
“Cannibal.. You read in the Enquirer about you and me’s last encounter here. They wanted to eat me.”
“Thought you were dead. They smell Rather now. You going to leave him here, let them get primed on human meat?”
“Are you?”
“No, I’m not, but that means a tip to Lawton authorities. It means you have to go somewhere, doesn’t it?”
He needed them both out of there before his psychic posse arrived and blew the bribery charade.
“Let’s go to OKC and get you some more crack.”
“You’re helping me.”
“It’s pay for play.”
“That works for me, but I’m not done with these yet.”
“You can finish them on the road. Right now, lend me that old cell phone you stole off Rather. I’m not tipping Lawton 911 from my own phone.”
“I’ll have to leave it here then.”
“Just throw it out the window on the road.”
On the way back to OKC, after the phone toss, Dayton found a highway rest area to stop at, said, “I have to relieve.”
“Me too.”
He was afraid of that, but he’d claim a stall. He knew the twins and Carmen were wondering what he was doing driving to Lawton and back and not telling them anything. So, from the commode cubicle, he texted Edgar, updated, and told them to continue tracking but not approach nor become visible. To keep spirits up, he asked, SO IS HE A GHOST OR A ZOMBIE?.
Edgar replied, HE’S A MUMMY. IN THOSE OLD MOVIES, THE MUMMY NEVER DIES.
Dayton signed off with, I THINK HE’S A STRODE.
Back in the car, the thing called a strode was pining for a hit. As they got to city streets, Dayton gave up the last of his supply, one small pebble.
“It’s going to take me a while to restock. The department doesn’t issue these. Where can you wait? Can you go home?”
Waiting and needy was how he wanted him.
“I can go home.”
“If you can get in there without another cop seeing you, or Raymond calling us.”
“Raymond’s buyable.”
“I don’t want him there when I go.”
“I’ll give him an immediate paid vacation. Pop’s in no hurry back from Europe.”
He dropped Strode off outside the property, and watched until he unlocked the door and went in. He called Edgar and said, “Just chill for a while, then I’ll tell you all where to meet me.”
He’d---well, lied--- to Strode about the difficulty of restocking. He had a storage locker, and inside a locked filing cabinet, stuffed in the back of the bottom drawer, was his stash. He took what he thought he’d need, and then some, then went to a liquor store, and bought a quart of Jack Daniel, had it gift wrapped. He went then to a coffee shop for a leisurely early breakfast. When he thought Strode would be desperate he called the house line to see if Raymond was gone. Strode said he was and asked him please--- please!--- to hurry.
. He left the booze in the car, and did the knuckles tap. A very stressed Strode opened the door and let him in.
“Only a little in the evidence locker I could tap.”
‘A little’ was three, and he watched as Strode quickly, ravenously, began to vaporize them and assert, “I’ll go to Crack Camp.”
“There’s a big bust they’re putting stock in Evidence from, but I have to wait a while.”
“I can’t wait.”
“You want to leave your body already? I have something to tide you over.”
“What?”
“There’s an unopened bottle in my car.”
“You said you don’t drink.”
“That’s why its unopened. It was a present.”
“No.”
“Okay, but if you travel around undisguised somebody will notice, and you’ll get arrested.”
“Let me think.”
“No skin off my hide if you think.”
“A bottle of what?”
“ Jack, I was told.”
“Maybe a little will hold me.”
“Should I go out and get it?”
“Go ahead.”
In the car, he texted Edgar: GETTING HIM DRUNK. BE READY TO COME IN A WHILE.
When he had Strode stinko drunk, Dayton expressed an interest in the long dense drawer where Raymond told him Oliver Bollings’ treasure was. Strode was making word salad, getting hard to understand, but Dayton thought he said, “Arthur sword silver king””
“A little slower, clearer Strode. One word at a time.”
“King Arthur’s silver sword.”
Silly me, I guessed Holy Grail
“How’d your father get that?”
“Bought in the Egyp.”
“Was moronism congenital in them? Oliver Strode spent maybe many thousands of dollars for the sword of a fictional king? But if real silver, it had a value.
“Can I see it somehow?”
“Sss combination, like a safe.”
“Do you know the numbers?”
“I can’t remember now them.”
He’d summoned his platoon twenty minutes ago, and he heard them outside, laughing gaily. Well, they were psychic.
The dog hadn’t bothered to close the door, and they came in.. Strode attempted to rise from the lush Elizabethan chair he was enshrouded in.The effort was futile, though he was thrilled to see Sharon again.
Dayton said to Sharon, “Strode says King Arhur’s silver sword is in yonder crypt, but he can’t remember the combination. Can’t remember, but somewhere inside that confused intoxicated head.”
Sharon sat on the arm of Strode’s chair, asked, “How’ve you been keeping?”
“Getting by.”
“Yeah, myself too. So, no one has ever seen that sword.”
“I did. Before Pop put it in there.”
“We’d love to,. Want to show and tell?”
“Tryin’ member how.”
“Must be impressive.”
“Yeah, history signifcan.”
“Can I give the combination a try?”
“Sure, Sharon.”
She went to the safe and examined the combination.
“There are only single and double digits. Can’t be so hard.”
Dayton said, “With any number of turn options, there are thousands of possibilities.”
“Think, Strode.”
“I can’t.”
Dayton said, “Maybe we’ll have to get a blow torch.”
“Pop wouldn’t lie that.”
“No, it would make a mess. He’d know somebody opened it.”
Sharon went back and sat over him on the chair arm.
“Think hard for me, baby”
“Since long time you call me that.”
“We got separated. People did that. Can you remember just the first number?”
“I think…was 47.”
She went back to the safe. “Okay, its on zero. It will only turn to the right. .One time, Strode?”
“47 two times right.”
She did that. ”Now what?”
“No!”
“Strode?”
“Coming to me, but this not my interest in.”
Shit. ESP practiced on people can get infectious.
“Why do you say that?”
“Vibe I’m feeling.”
Edgar said, “Back one to 16.”
She did that. And said herself, “Right to 99.”
The lock clicked. Opening that slab was another matter. It was made of concrete and steel.
Carmen was helpful. “I saw an appliance dolly in the utility room off the pantry.” She moved fast as a dust twister and was back with it.
Dayton had the physical bulk. He scraped the blade under the front, tipped the dolly back, lifted a bit while the others pulled until he had to set down, They inched the slab forward, lifted, pulled, set down, lifted, pulled, until they found hand grips that made pulling easier.
Then they saw a horizontal crate inside--- like a wee coffin---and dragged it out. It was hard wood but unlocked, though there were hasps and hinges. Dayton raised the lid, and it was …empty. Maybe pop was in Europe trying to sell a silver sword, or Raymond stole it, but none of that was of concern. They were interested in what want in there, not in what came out.
Dayton said, “Now Strode, will you go in voluntarily, or do we have to shove you in?”
He had no incentive to be cooperative. They had to force him into the box, turn him on a hip, and bend his legs behind. Stoned as he was, he was complaining already of cramps. They shut the box, placed it back inside, and reversed the effort with the dolly to push the slab in place again. When they reset and locked it, his protests became inaudible. Sure, in the middle of some lonely night, someone might think they imagined ghostly cries…
Carmen quipped, “That should hold him, huh?”
“Yeah,” Dayton said, “When he escaped from jail, his spirit had access out of cells, cracks under doors, between bars on open windows in the outer corridors. He doesn’t have that freedom in there.”
Edgar said, “I was afraid he’d turn vapor before we could contain him.”
“Seems he was just too drunk. He’s trapped body and spirit, and if the old man took the sword, he has no reason to look in there. Maybe to put it back, sure, but if he took it out to sell, he did. If he didn’t take, he has no reason to look unless sometime for nostalgia he might want to see it. For now, Sharon, you’re safe, stray dogs, newborns, Oklahoma City and the world.”
“Its just that, like Edgar said, the mummy never dies, and there are those Crack Camp guys..”
For the second time recently, Edgar said to one of the twins, ‘’Stop!”
Dayton had news for Carmen that he’d been too preoccupied to give her. Rake had contacted him. He was in a recovery house.
Sharon said, “You recovered him?.”
“No, he rescued himself. I kept him high.”
Edgar said, “Maybe getting all he wanted, any time he could, did it.”
“I take no credit. I enabled. Carmen, what he says about his responsibility is, if he can ever pay the back due he will, but he promises to get a job and make current payments.”
“All the courts will ask. I had to sign a complaint to get help.”
“They have an arrangement where if a defendant cooperates and accepts guilt, he can appear on a City Attorney’s order without being arrested I’m going to grant him that, if you agree, on condition he follows through. If he doesn’t, they will arrest him.”
“I’d accept that.” “ “The best you’ll get from Judge Lemmond.”
”If Rake can stay clean.”
“That remains to be seen Guys, before we depart, anybody want to say a few words for old Strode? Maybe loud enough for him to hear.”
Edgar said, “Yeah, I do” and yelled, “LET’S GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE.”
Dayton had trained hearing. He wasn’t sure, but thought he vaguely heard a curse in reply Or was it an echo? Old stone houses are spooky places…
A NOTE: …and the characters from THE OK TWINS FRANCHISE will meet those from the TAR FRANCHISE---at the end of PORTLAND TAR--- in a tale yet to be told.
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