Death by Facebook (8 page)

Through
the thick mists all he could tell was that it seemed to be a guy,
possibly the elusive Private Turner. His cap was on tight and low.
Boots and khaki pants topped with a black jacket painted the rest of
the picture for Larry. It had to be Private Turner.

He
ran a few steps to catch up with the rapidly disappearing figure,
headed in the direction of the Lava Lounge.

“
Hey,”
Larry yelled out, trying to temper his voice from sounding
overbearing. “Hey Private Turner?” He jogged a few more
steps until he managed to catch up. “Yo, Turner?”

Finally
the figure stopped and turned. Larry stopped abruptly as well. If
this was Private James Turner he sure looked young.

“
I
have a telegram for Private Turner,” Larry said. “Is
that you?”

Janet
had hoped she could get more than a few steps out the door in Jimmy's
clothes before having to actually act like she was him. She was
afraid her voice would give her away, either through sounding too
feminine or just shaking with nervousness.

“
Sure,”
Janet mumbled. “Yes.” She reached out for the telegram,
before it was even offered.

Larry
noticed her voice and immediately figured this was one of those
“Don't Ask, Don't Tell” situations. He reached out to
give the telegram to whomever this was. “Please read it. Your
Sergeant is in a bit of a panic.”

Janet
took the telegram and quickly stashed it inside her jacket pocket
without reading it. She looked up at Larry and tried real hard not
to smile like a girl. She remembered a Tony Curtis movie where the
young actor simply raised one corner of his mouth in a partial smile
and how macho that looked. Trying that she felt ridiculous and
turned away quickly.

“
Thanks,”
she said and began her march to the bar again.

Larry
stood there a moment as the soldier walked away, then quickly
followed. “I'm headed to the Lava Lounge, you too?”

Janet
tried to ignore him but Larry came up beside her again, and managed
to open the door just as they both arrived. She tried her best to be
polite, but firmly announced to him, “I drink alone.”

Larry
smiled and let her move off toward the bar. “I know that song
dude.” He paused a minute as he looked around for his friends.
“I never do,” he added.

12

Her
day had started out just fine. In fact, more than just fine, more
like perfect. Sacramento was having an unusually late fall, accented
nicely by today's highs in the mid 70s. Walking to her bridge game,
four blocks from her tree shaded street, along the cafes and coffee
shops and throngs of young people she almost skipped a little. The
sky was blue-bird blue, her summer dress, cut a little long, was
teasing her imagination back some thirty years or so.

It
had been at least that long since she had felt that twinge of
excitement in her chest. That tingle of adventure. A little promise
of romance colored her disposition better than FTD, chocolate or a
few sips of white wine.

Agatha
Turner had rediscovered love. She laughed out loud at the thought,
catching the momentary attention of two other love birds sharing a
cappuccino. Amazing, she thought, she was having almost as much fun
on Facebook as she'd had so long ago at the soda fountains not far
from here.

It
had popped up unannounced a few days ago. A message in her inbox
from that tall, dark and handsome rogue from high school. He was
headed for Sacramento on some kind of contractor convention junket
and said he would love to take her to Burr's Fountain.

She
had never told him but that had been her very first kiss, there in
the corner booth. Opening the door to Sylvia's little dance supply
store where they would soon gossip and brag and laugh, Agatha felt a
surge of pride. Her son, Jimmy, had been right. Facebook
was
going to be the best thing that had happened to her in a long time.

~~~

I
followed Janet at a distance, hovering beside the quiet trees and
inside the unnoticed corners of the recreation area. Janet managed
to make it to her favorite booth in the back, on the way to the
restrooms, without anyone else accosting her. The Lava Lounge was
far below seating capacity tonight, being a Wednesday and the day
before Karaoke night.

She
turned to look for the helpful messenger guy and saw him at the bar
talking with a dark haired guy with a long ponytail. They seemed to
be old friends. Good. No trouble from him.

Pulling
out the telegram, she immediately noticed it to be simply a hand
written note. It was short and direct.

Call
your Sergeant about your return to duty date

December
15
^th
,
0600H, Ft. Bragg NC

788-555-4343

She
had to check her watch to make sure. December 15
^th
was just two days away. No impossible task was ever accomplished
without beer, so she drank. Two at a time, until she had finished
twelve Lava Lagers, and the bartender began taking longer to bring
new ones over.

I
was there, watching her. Listening to her thoughts as best I could
between the bursts of static and confusion. How was she going to
convince Sergeant JJ not to send the military police when I didn't
show up? By my calculations, it had been almost a week since Janet
had murdered me, and our reservation for the cabin was just for a
week. Soon she would have to leave.

The
wild ones were back, with the miners headlamps on. They were
drinking and talking and doing both loudly. Tourists seem to have
the most fun, wherever they went. The locals always maintained a
balance. All these guys filed back and forth past Janet, on their
way to the bathrooms.

As
I watched her she simply stared out at the tables and the TV, always
holding onto her drink. Sometimes I thought I could see her eyes
close and that was right when the static got loudest, when she did
that. When she tried to hide.

Eventually,
someone noticed her. It was the tall guy with the wild ones, Pat.
He glanced over at Janet on his return from the bathrooms, did a
double take and walked briskly back to their table.

“
Hey
Dave,” Pat leaned over speaking in a loud whisper.

Dave
put his headlamp back on but changed the light to red. “Yes,
Sir Pat, what?”

Pat
shook his head like you might shake off a joke you didn't understand.
“Your girlfriend, the bloodsucker? She looks to have gotten
herself a haircut.”

Dave
had a momentary look of terror in his face which drew out some
drunken laughs from his crew. “No way!” he proclaimed
and then leaned over toward Pat, “Where?”

Pat
gestured over to the bathrooms. “Your favorite booth.”

Dave
peeked around his friends to look. “That's not her, that's a
guy,” he whispered.

“
Why
don't you buy her another drink Dave?” Tim asked. “See
if her hands have healed yet.”

“
Here,”
John offered reaching into his jacket to hand Dave something. “I've
got a leftover band-aid.”

Dave
ignored his friends with a smile and kept trying to get a good look
at the person in the corner booth. He pushed back his chair slowly,
drawing some hoots from the guys. “I'm going to the little
boys room.”

“
Watch
out for your neck!” Pat advised.

Dave
nonchalantly went up to the bar, ordered a drink to go to Janet's
table and then walked toward the bathroom hallway. Glancing over in
his best '
I'm
not really looking at you, but I am'
gaze he tried to recognize the girl who only a day ago had shocked
him with her crazy behavior. She looked quite different, if it was
her. No doubt the long red hair was gone, replaced with what looked
like a military cut. The ball cap was low over her forehead, and
with long pants and a black jacket on it was hard to tell.

But,
as he moved into the hallway, his innate photographic memory, used
only when girls were involved, kept playing back the images he had
just seen. Just as he pushed the door marked
Kane
open, it popped into his mind.

“
Shit,”
he mumbled. “Her hands...”

~~~

Agatha
Turner stood outside the bookstore, just down from Burr's Fountain,
looking at her hands. They still had that delicate beauty she had
always prided herself on, but now the age spots and wrinkles had
claimed much of the surface. Her left hand looked a bit naked,
without the wedding ring she had worn for … forever.

Watching
as stealthily as she could for any tall handsome man that might enter
Burr's, she sighed a little. It had been decades since she had let
such emotions drive her behavior, such as shyness at being alone in a
booth. Waiting for someone to show up sucked, especially when your
confidence was down. She really missed her husband right now, and
the comfort she had had in such a long, stable relationship.

“
Those
days are gone girl,” she whispered out loud to herself.

Every
Taxi that stopped and cast out its fare was studied closely. First,
a young couple, obviously too young to drive but with enough money
for a ride, jumped out. Another taxi showed up with four adults, all
dressed in some kind of black and red matching outfits.

Her
watch confirmed what her heart was screaming. He was late,
unfashionably late at this point. She thanked her self esteem for
coming up with the idea of standing in front of the bookstore instead
of sitting alone at a booth in front of all the happy couples
enjoying their time, and their ice cream.

Finally,
afraid she would wilt from the stress, she promised herself she would
leave at the next taxi that produced disappointment. From a distance
she saw another approaching, and after a moment, saw two more right
behind it. All three pulled up in front of Burr's.

Four
people piled out of the first one, then five from the next and
amazingly six from the last, all laughing uproariously and talking
loud. She tried to scan all the faces quickly before they
disappeared inside. Several were women, mostly beautiful and a bit
younger than her, but not by much. Everyone was piling inside Burr's
quickly and she missed a few of the men's faces.

As
the last of them went inside, one man stopped and before going in
turned to look down the sidewalk in the other direction from her.
Turning he glanced across the street, and then as if in slow motion
gazed toward her for several moments.