Nobody Loves a Bigfoot Like a Bigfoot Babe (6 page)

OLAAA SAT UP AND YAWNED. She stretched hairy arms and looked about her little home.

The cave was small, dark and decorated with flowers and leaves of every color. The walls were adorned with crude drawings of tall men with pale hair floating into a massive doughnut with what looked like rays beaming down. The entrance to the cave was covered by bushes and undergrowth and was barely big enough for an adult Bigfoot to squeeze through.

Olaaa sat on her haunches, watching a sleeping Boo from a dark corner of the cave. She slowly rocked back and forth, mewing pathetically.

A shaft of sunlight filtered through the entrance onto her plaything as he lay comfortably on a bed of leaves and grass. He was trussed up with thin vines to prevent him from escaping. A piece of cloth torn from his t-shirt was tied around his mouth to muffle any sounds he made which might attract the other Bigfoot to his whereabouts.

Olaaa looked lovingly at her plaything. If wishes could come true she wished he would reciprocate her love. But such a love between a Bigfoot and a pale one was forbidden.

She sighed woefully then gave a whimper, "Weeeewooooeeee."

Olaaa crept closer to Boo and stroked his fine blond hair. More than anything right then, Olaaa wanted to be blond like her plaything.

"Weeeooooweeeeeooooo."

IT WAS 8:30 IN THE EVENING of the first day of Beau's disappearance, and still no one took it seriously. But Beaverites did take seriously Wednesday nights at Abe's Bar and Grill. And this was Wednesday night.

Abe's was located on the western edge of town, at the top of Main Street. At the back of the building was a micro brewery, delivering four distinctive beers to the locals and tourists alike.
Little Beaver Light
at 3.4%,
Big Beaver Bitter
at 4.9%,
Bigfoot ESB
at 5.6% and last but not least, for those Beaverites who wanted to fall down real quick—
Sasquatch Ale
at 7.2%.

Several Beaverites entered the large log and stone cabin with a red sign stating this was Abe's Bar & Grill.

The place was fit to burst with locals and tourists, including the newly arrived Japanese sightseers. Live entertainment and dancing added ambiance to the beer-guzzling, shoe-tapping rowdy atmosphere. The walls were rough-hewn logs and the floor consisted of sawdust-covered planks of pine. All in all, a very rustic, but friendly place to get your brain totaled.

SHERIFF LOU SAT ON A swivel stool at the bar savoring the last mouthful of her tequila on the rocks. She was casually dressed in figure-hugging jeans and a tight t-shirt which accentuated her glorious figure. The only makeup adorning her face was bright pink lip-gloss. Her short-cropped hair was spiked with gel and somehow it suited her.

Behind the bustling bar stood the six-feet-three inch tall Abe, a well-fed, red-faced, jovial man in his early sixties. He laughed as he served drinks and chatted to his customers. Like Annie's Diner, Abe dished out the freebies, and Wednesdays and Mondays were all-you-could-eat-steak-and-fries night, accompanied with one free beer-a pitcher of Bigfoot ESB.

The sheriff's department also received extra freebies in the shape of all-you-could-eat -steak-and-fries night, six nights a week, excluding Sundays.

Abe watched Lou as she emptied her glass. He had a concerned look on his otherwise cheery face.

"You sure you want another one, Lou? I don't want you shutting me down for serving drunks."

Lou thought about that for a brief moment and frowned-if she happened to be the drunk then how could she shut Abe down?

"Fuck it, Abe . . . fill her up," Lou ordered as she pushed her empty glass across the bar.

Abe deftly caught the glass, dropped in some crushed ice and tipped an ample quantity of twelve year old tequila into it.

"Heard Beau's gone missing . . . yet again," he mused with a chuckle. "Also heard, you had the dogs out looking for him, yet again." He looked cheekily at her as he slid the glass back to Lou.

Lou nodded and sighed wearily as she caught her glass. She took a hefty sip and pondered her situation.

"Yeah, well, the dogs couldn't track him -too much stink. Beau probably backtracked his way from the spot where he'd gone to take a leak." She shook her head with dismay. "I betcha all the money in the world he was lying in the back of the van, hiding under all their camping gear." Lou took a hefty gulp. "Damn it to hell . . . should've searched the van." She blew out her cheeks. "What's done is done, I guess."

They were all in on the charade, thought Lou. By now, Beau was probably hiding out somewhere in town having a big laugh at her expense. Of course, she was just guessing, but her gut was telling her nothing bad had happened to Beau. He'd probably show up tomorrow, if he didn't show up tonight. And he'd probably say Bigfoot took him-like father like son.

Abe shook his head. "He's just messing with you, Lou . . . you know that."

She nodded her head. "Yeah . . . I guess so."

As Lou took another sip of her tequila her face contorted at the dreadful pong of rotten eggs and stale sweat. She gagged on her drink, and turned to see Duane standing next to her.

Duane was dressed in his Bigfoot duds, minus the furry head. He smiled amiably at her. His eyes twinkled mischievously.

Lou smiled and looked at him with a mixture of affection and revulsion. She sniffed his manly odor and got a quick reminder of the crime scenes. She'd often remarked-not just to Duane, but to other Beaverite's that if only he'd get a haircut, shave off that beard and wore some decent clothes and not his faded, tatty jeans and "I'm a Bigfoot" t-shirt, or that stinky Bigfoot outfit of his, he'd pass for not half-bad, quite acceptable, even attractive. Not that she could ever be actually attracted to him. It was just an observation on her part. Besides, Duane was more like a brother to her. He was her best friend.

She knew damned well Duane wasn't concerned in keeping up appearances. Neither was he that bothered in attracting the fairer sex. So why was he so popular with the ladies? One reason—Duane was loaded.

He had been left a considerable amount of money by a distant relative who had no family except his distant cousin, Duane. The distant relative, Cousin Wilbur, Duane's grandfather's cousin had bought a parcel of land in Florida in the late '50s. The land was your basic swampland full of gators and such, but Wilbur knew a deal when he saw one. He sold the land to a devious developer who built condominiums-mostly retirement condominiums on the land once it had been drained. And like Duane, Cousin Wilbur was a loner.

But unlike Duane, Cousin Wilbur had business acumen. He went from dubious deal to dubious deal.

Lou was well-aware-in fact anyone who knew Duane was well aware, that Duane sadly lacked the skill or desire to make his mark in life.

Lou knew that Duane was content to meander along life's highway, bonking his brains out, performing at hen parties, singing and playing his guitar at Abe's Bar and Grill. Not to mention pranking the shit out of her.

There was also another factor to take into account for Duane's popularity with the ladies-he was real good in bed. But Lou didn't want to dwell on such a lewd thought-because he was like a brother to her, and such a thought seemed indecent.

It had to be said that most Beaverites liked Duane. Though there were some that thought him a little too weird, living all alone in that cabin of his in the woods.

Yeah, he sure was one weird son-of-a-bitch, agreed Lou.

Duane nodded to a Japanese tourist sitting next to Lou, who was giving her an amorous, all be it drunken look. The tourist got the meaning right away and sauntered off his stool.

Duane sat down at the vacant barstool next to Lou and put his arm around her shoulder. He gave her a big Bigfoot hug. He looked concerned, but the mischievous twinkle in his blue eyes gave his true feelings away.

"Aw, what's bothering my gal? Come on, you can tell ol' Duane-o."

Lou narrowed her eyes as she looked at the feigned look of concern on his face. "Two things are bothering me, right now."

"Heard Beau's gone missing again," Duane said.

"Oh yeah . . . that's one of them."

"He'll show up when he has a mind to . . . so hang loose."

Lou nodded her head and sighed, "Yeah, I guess."

Duane gave Lou a pensive look, "The results from the Phantom Bigfoot Bather Case back yet?" He scratched his butt with his thinking finger.

"Had the same conversation with Walt earlier today . . . and yes, they have."

"DNA give anything away?"

"Nope."

Duane nodded his head and said, "Shame about that . . . a real shame."

Lou saw the concern on his face, but she was quick to notice the twinkle of humor in his eyes. She gave a long, weary sigh. She loved Duane and knew the feeling was mutual. But he sure knew how to yank her chain with his practical jokes. Lou looked away from his face and gazed miserably into her glass of tequila. She gave another sigh.

"I dunno . . . what is the world coming to?"

Duane solemnly nodded his head and agreed. "Yeah, what is the world coming to? You gotta admit there's a lot of weird shit going on." His tone was mockingly serious.

Lou wasn't fooled by his tone of voice. She took a sip of her tequila as Abe came over to them with a refill of beer for Duane. She gave Duane a withering glance.

Abe placed the full glass of beer on the bar in front of the amiable Bigfoot and walked away to serve some other customers that were eagerly jostling for a prime position at the bar.

"Shit, Lou, I've told you, it ain't me," Duane pleaded. "It has to be some other sicko in town responsible for clogging up Beaverite's pipe works." He took another mouthful of beer and grinned. He scratched his butt again. "You wanna know who I think it is?" He paused for a moment and smiled. "That shit-for-brains Walt. He loves drains . . . loves the smell of them . . . wouldn't surprise me if he bathes in drainage." As an afterthought, "Sure smells as though he does."

Sad to say, some of what Duane said made sense, but Lou didn't really think the town plumber was the Phantom Bigfoot. Everyone knew that Duane loved to play practical jokes. How many times had he been caught red-handed by MB and tourists alike in his tailor-made Bigfoot feet stomping up the ground in the woods somewhere?

And how many times had someone photographed or got Duane on a camcorder in his Bigfoot duds, only for him to take off his Bigfoot head just before it got blown off by some excited hunter? Of course, there had been countless occasions when a hunter had actually shot at Duane mistaking him for a grizzly or Bigfoot. He had the scars to prove it. That Duane sure was one stupid fucker.

Lou lifted her gaze from her glass of tequila and looked keenly at her best friend. He had to be the Beaver Bigfoot, for he sure as hell was dressed for the part.

Duane ran his fingertips over his unshaven chin and looked thoughtful for a moment or two, then gave a grin, scratching his butt with his thinking finger.

"One thing you got to admit though, your deputies sure have lost a few pounds recently. Guess their delicate stomachs can't take that phantom stink." He sniffed his armpits, "Smells worse than me." Duane gave another grin. "And as for the good people of Big Beaver, well hey, not many seem to mind there's a Phantom Bigfoot in town." He chuckled, "He's becoming quite a celebrity."

A look of exasperation darkened Lou's face. She had to admit Duane was right about her deputies. They had lost a few pounds, apart from Dwight-another reason she had not arrested Duane. As for most people in town, they didn't take the antics of the Phantom Bigfoot too seriously. In fact, there were some who hoped the prankster would pay their home a visit. It was deemed an honor.

Lou sighed inwardly knowing that if she did find out Duane was the culprit he'd place her in a moral dilemma. Could she actually have him arrested and convicted?

Duane shook his head solemnly and raised his beer glass to his lips. He took a mouthful of Bigfoot ESB, licked the froth from his stubbly chin and moustache, then started to chuckle.

"Lighten up Lou. No one's being harmed." Duane scratched his ass. "Oh yeah, what was the other thing bothering you?"

She was the town sheriff, a person with responsibilities, someone who enforced the law—she had no one to love-that was the fucking problem. And it was thirteen years to this very day that heartless bastard left her without a word. Okay, so Beau had gone missing. How could she lighten up? Lou gave Duane a withering look.

FROM HIS VANTAGE POINT seated at a table close to the bar, MB sipped his beer and watched Duane and Lou talking. He was not alone.

Two very attractive, early twenty something females sat at his table. They were keen fans of the singing duo that consisted of MB and Duane and their adoration of them knew no bounds.

MB hoped he was going to get lucky that night-lucky with both females in tandem.

As MB watched Lou and Duane, he saw his furry friend give the sheriff a peck on the cheek. If he didn't know any better it could look like the sheriff and Duane had a thing going, but MB knew all the affectionate stuff that went on between them was purely platonic.

MB often thought it was a shame Duane and Lou couldn't hit it off with each other, it would sure help Lou's disposition. MB was reminded of an Old Indian legend that said opposites attract. But in Lou and Duane's case they were far too opposite.

"Excuse me, ladies," MB said as he got up from his chair. "I think I'm needed at the bar."

The two adoring fans waved at MB as he left their company. "Don't be too long, Chiefy, baby."

MB quietly approached Lou and Duane like an Indian on the prowl. Neither sensed his approach until he placed a hand on their shoulders.

"You're not taking advantage of the law are you, Duane-o, my good buddy?"

Both Lou and Duane swung round on their bar stools to look at MB's grinning face.

"You two look as though you could do with a . . . stiff . . . drink?" MB teased.

MB knew that despite being loaded with money, Duane never turned down a freebie of beer.

"Sure thing, MB," Duane nodded.

Lou took a sip of tequila and shook her head. "Uh-uh, this is my last."

MB nodded and caught the attention of Abe as he served drinks to some customers at the bar. He returned his attention back to Duane. "Heard the scoop on the poop yet?"

"Oh yeah." Duane shrugged, "No luck again . . . go figure . . . too contaminated, so Lou tells me . . . just like the other two." He sniggered, "Shame about that." He shook his head woefully.

MB noticed the look on Lou's face as she stared at Duane and came to the conclusion she was thinking the same thing he was-Duane-o had to be the Phantom Bigfoot.