Riddle (2 page)

Chapter 2

              It didn’t take long to see what else had been changed in the house where he had grown up. Like the downstairs, the upstairs had been painted. Gone was the old print wallpaper and the walls were now a soft cream color, the stern family portraits replaced by quiet pastoral scenes. Perhaps most interesting was the fact that all the doors stood open revealing rooms lit by rays of sunlight. His father, Agnes’s “late husband”, always insisted the doors remain closed. Kort’s old room lay at the end of the hall and he glanced into the other bedrooms and the bathrooms as he passed them. Reaching his bedroom he stopped short. It had been completely redecorated, nothing of his remaining. The posters that had adorned his dark walls had been removed. His captain’s bed replaced by a twin bed covered with a deep brown quilt that complimented the cream colored walls. His old armoire was still there but it had been stripped and polished and a realistic display of artificial sunflowers in a small copper pot sat on top. Kort stepped into the room setting his suitcase on the floor at the foot of the bed. Normally he would have tossed it on the bed, but this wasn’t his room any more. This was a guest room in a house he no longer knew.

Taking a deep breath he stepped into the small bathroom that had been his, the bathroom where he had learned to shave and would stand at the window to sneak cigarettes, blowing the smoke outside to avoid being caught. He wasn’t surprised to find this room was also changed. Two walls had been painted a rich brown, the others the same cream color as the bedroom. The shower curtain had been replaced by one that was cream colored with brown and gold stripes. Kort had a feeling he was going to get sick of all the neutral colors rather quickly.

Going back into the bedroom he carefully set his small duffel bag on the bed and began to unpack. Pulling out a thin blue folder he opened it slowly. A list with the telephone numbers for all the contacts he would need was on top. He needed to call his parole officer to let him know he had arrived and was settling in. He was scheduled to meet with his new employer, Riddle Construction, at eight the next morning. No time to get into trouble. He didn’t mind. The sooner he started working the quicker he could save up enough to get his own place. Once he had unpacked and stored his meager belongings he went into the bathroom and started the shower. He had not had a private shower since he’d been moved to Eastern State. Steam filled the bathroom and he quickly stripped down and stepped into the hot water. Bending his head back he allowed the water to run down his body, the pressure strong and pulsing unlike the weak cool stream he’d become accustomed to. Eyes closed he instinctively reached up to the shower head for his hanging soap only to remember it would not be there. A small shelf with travel sized bottles of body wash, shampoo, and hair conditioner hung there instead. Opening the shower gel he sniffed it and almost laughed out loud at the flowery scent that filled his nostrils. He would have to replace that with something more masculine before the next day. Grateful for the privacy and the cleansing products he scrubbed his body and his hair. Drying off with the thick brown towel, he proceeded to wrap it around his waist and go back into the bedroom. He selected a pair of jeans and a tee shirt from his bag and went to the closet to see if any of his belongings remained. Surprised, he saw that his clothes and some of his other belongings were stored neatly inside. Pulling a pair of his old jeans from the shelf he realized they would be far too short and likely too big in the waist. But there were a few tee shirts he might be able to wear since the fashion had been to wear over sized shirts before he was sent away. Still, he would need to get some clothes for work.

Dressing quickly he went back downstairs to call in to his parole officer. His mother was standing by the living room window. She turned when he entered the room. “All settled?”

“Yes ma’am, thank you. I need to make a phone call if that’s all right.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, so he continued. “I have to let my parole officer know I am here and find out when I need to go see him.”

She nodded and pointed toward the kitchen, then turned back to the window. As he went past her he glanced out and saw two women standing across the street obviously watching the house. Making no comment he continued to the kitchen. He was not surprised to see that room had also been redecorated. Digging the paper out of his jeans pocket he placed the call.

A woman answered, “Jeri Lawrence.”

Kort had not expected a woman; in fact it had never occurred to him. “This is Kort Eriksen. I’m checking in.”

“Eriksen,” she murmured and he could hear papers rustling in the background. “Well I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.”

“The paper said I had to call in as soon…”

She cut him off. “You have an interview tomorrow morning at 8:00 AM with Riddle Construction. Do you have the address?”

“Yes, I…”

“It’s just a formality really. They have agreed to hire you. You’ll meet with the owner, Chad Lewis. You have transportation?”

For a moment Kort was speechless. He and Chad had been friends in high school. He wondered if Chad realized who he had agreed to hire.

“Eriksen, you there?” her voice was impatient. “Do you have a way to get there or do I need to take you?”

“My mother is lending me a truck.” He focused on what Jeri Lawrence was saying.

“Do you have a license?” Her tone was now exasperated.

Kort dug into his pants pocket again and pulled out the license he had earned in prison. It had been required when he was assigned to the maintenance crew so he could transport tools and crew. “Yes, yes I have a license.”

More paper rustling. “Right after you finish come see me. You know where I am?”

Kort confirmed the address even though he knew her office was in the courthouse, a place he knew very well. Hanging up the phone he stood uncertainly, still wondering if Chad realized who he had agreed to hire. He didn’t hear his mother enter the kitchen and jumped slightly when she spoke.

“Have you decided if you plan to eat at home this evening? I suppose you expect it.”

There was no ignoring the tone of her voice. She did not want to cook for him. He didn’t really want her to. “I was thinking of going down to the diner and grabbing a bite. I don’t want to put you to any trouble.”

Her eyes narrowed again. “Can you do that? Just go out and walk around?”

“I’m not locked up any more Mother. I have rules to follow but I am not on house arrest.”

Something in his tone must have startled her because she took a step back. “Of course you aren’t.” Hesitating a moment she asked if he had money.

“I earned some money inside. I’ll be fine.” Kort brushed past her and headed for the stairs. Years had not changed her ability to get under his skin. He was determined not to argue, not to lose his temper. He had learned self control inside and he was going to exercise it now on the outside.

“Kort,” she called sharply following him from the kitchen. “The keys to the truck are on the table in the front hall. Please do not be late. I lock up at nine.”

Without looking back he muttered, “Thank you,” and scooped up the keys as he went upstairs to grab a jacket. By the time he came back downstairs she had already disappeared somewhere in the depths of the house and he was relieved he did not have to listen to any more instructions.

Chapter 3

              The garage was the only part of the house that looked the same. His father’s tools still hung on the pegboards above his ever clean workbench. Plastic storage containers, clearly labeled with the contents, were stacked neatly on the shelves. The old black Silverado had been backed into the garage. As he approached the driver’s door he stopped short. Parked next to the truck was a newer model bright red convertible. Apparently his mother’s expensive tastes extended beyond home improvements. Shaking his head he climbed into the truck. He had never been permitted to drive the truck before. At the time of his arrest he was taking Driver’s Ed classes, one of the classes he had enjoyed, but the only driving experience he got was in class. For a moment he sat and stared out the window. Inhaling deeply, the odor of his father’s tobacco filled his head. Funny, the smell was no longer in the house and he had not even noticed its absence until now. It was as though his mother had completely erased all indications his father ever lived there except for the garage. He wondered if she would eventually get to that too. Pressing the garage door opener that had always been on the visor, he was surprised that it still worked. Starting the engine he listened to the rumble of the engine as it came to life. The truck thrummed beneath him and he drove cautiously to the end of the driveway. The two women he had noticed earlier were now sitting on the front porch of one of the houses across the street. Kort was conscious of their eyes staring at him, almost unblinking, as though he was some dark monster that had come into their neighborhood. He didn’t recognize either of them and knew that they had to have moved in after he had gone to prison. Yet they knew enough about the situation to be eyeing him suspiciously. He momentarily considered going back into the house. The sky had grown a deep gray and heavy clouds hung over the town like dark shades. It was going to rain again and the roads would be slick. A car passed the driveway, two teenagers sitting in the front seats. He watched as the car slowed and the girls stared out at him, eyes wide and mouths moving as they discussed the killer in their midst. Kort felt exposed, examined, dissected like some science experiment in a huge lab called Riddle. Suddenly the car sped up and he watched the taillights as it turned at the end of the road, eventually disappearing from view. At almost the same moment the two women rose from their porch chairs and went inside the house closing the door behind them. He could almost hear the lock snap shut to keep the fiend named Kort outside.

“That’s enough,” he said firmly. Taking two deep breaths he counted to ten and pulled out of the driveway.

As he drove through the streets of Riddle he realized not as much had changed as he’d thought. Children were walking on their way home from school or after school programs; some mothers waited at school bus stops for smaller kids. When he drove past the hospital he briefly regretted not taking Norma up on her offer of dinner. In the same moment he realized he was not ready to resume relationships yet; he needed time to adjust to life out from behind bars.

Soon he found himself driving past the high school. The group of girls was no longer on the field but the football team was still there, practicing under the watchful eyes of coaches and a few students who sat in the bleachers. Suddenly he spotted the flashing red and blue bar of a police car behind him. He took a quick glance at the speedometer as he pulled over. He had not been speeding.

Looking into the rearview mirror again he watched as the deputy moved slowly toward the truck; hand on the butt of his holstered gun. The brim of his hat cast a dark shadow on the officer’s face but when he stepped up beside the open driver’s window Kort immediately recognized him. He said nothing, waiting for Butch to speak first. Prison lesson number three, speak only when spoken to.

Butch squinted at Kort. “Good afternoon. Do you know who I am?”

Kort wanted to laugh. Kort wanted to say he had no idea who this pumped up Deputy Dawg was. Instead he simply nodded all the while maintaining eye contact.

Butch nodded back. “I’m Deputy Leland Parker.”

It took a lot of self control to hold back the laughter that tickled the back of his throat and the corners of his eyes. He nodded again.

“I know who you are too Kort Eriksen. I just want you to know I will be keeping an eye on you. If you so much as walk across the street on a red light I will know it. Do you understand?”

The humor melted out of him like snow melting on a hot stove. Kort’s eyes narrowed involuntarily. But he responded in an even tone. “Yes sir.”

The men stared at one another for a full minute before Butch took a deep breath. “Well now.  I need to see license, registration, and proof of insurance.”

Kort flipped open the glove box conscious of Butch watching his every movement like a hawk, the man’s hand on the butt of his gun as though he was just waiting for a chance to pull it out and order Kort out of the truck. He handed the papers to Butch and dug his license out of his pocket. Looking from the license to Kort’s face Butch frowned. “They give drivers licenses in prison now? Where did they think you were gonna go?”

“It was part of my job,” Kort answered shortly.

Butch handed the documents back to Kort, not letting go when Kort’s fingers closed around them.

“You need to get the address updated on that license unless you plan on returning to prison soon. Is that part of your plan Kort?”

Kort could feel his temperature rising. He was aware of cars slowing as they passed. It all began to bear down on him; Doug Sutton at the bus station, his mother, the two old ladies, the girls in the car staring and judging. “No sir.” He responded stiffly keeping his voice as even as possible. “I’ll get that taken care of right away. Thank you, sir.”

Now Butch’s eyes narrowed. There was no doubt Kort was angry. “See that you do.” With that Butch went back to his car. He watched as Kort carefully merged back into traffic. He knew he had no right to confront Kort. But he wanted to make certain Kort knew he had returned to a town that did not want a murderer on their streets.

As Kort drove off he glanced in his mirror to see if Butch was following him and was surprised to see he still stood beside his police cruiser. He’d been fairly certain Butch would stay on his tail for the rest of the afternoon. He also knew this would not be their last encounter. In Butch’s mind Kort had killed his girlfriend, or more precisely their girlfriend.

Arriving at Ollie’s Diner he was surprised to see it had not only had a name change but the façade had been updated and the parking lot enlarged. It was no longer “Ollie’s” but was now the Sky Harbor Diner. He decided it was probably a result of the new motel, the Skyview Inn that had been built directly across the road.  As he parked the truck he wondered if Ollie still owned the diner.

Stepping into the cool interior, Kort noted that had also been remodeled. No longer filled with red leatherette booths and red stools along the counter, everything was now colored in soft blues and greens. The tile floor had been replaced by a sturdy navy blue carpet with green and white swirls.

An attractive young girl stepped up holding menus and smiling brightly. “Just one?”

Kort stared at her in confusion. Before he could gather his thoughts a familiar voice broke in, “I’ve got this Ashlee!”

Kort’s face broke into a smile as he recognized Ollie’s son, Jack. He was soon enveloped in the big arms of the bearlike man who pounded warmly on his back. “Kort Eriksen!”  Then holding Kort at arm’s length he examined him. “Not a little guy anymore, huh Kort?”

“I guess not,” Kort grinned, eye to eye with the big man. When he had gone away he had just reached Jack’s chin.

With his arm around Kort’s shoulder he led him to the counter. “It’s good to see you.”

Kort slid easily onto the stool and rested his arms on the counter. Leaning on the counter next to him Jack studied his face closely. “I heard you were coming back but I didn’t know when.”

Kort nodded. “I just got in this morning.”

Jack leaned close, his voice dropping. “Have you seen anyone yet?”

“Norma picked me up at the bus depot. I’ve been to the house.” Then with a wry smile he added, “I had the pleasure of seeing Butch.”

Jack’s eyes narrowed. “That asshole is the Assistant Chief of Police. Can you believe it?”

Shaking his head Kort chuckled. “It seems about right that the biggest bully from high school would end up being in law enforcement.”

“He’s kept a pretty low profile. Most people think he’ll end up being chief when old Henderson retires. Speaking of retiring, my Dad retired and turned the diner over to me. What do you think of the new look?”

Kort nodded approvingly. “I see there’s a new hotel across the road.”

“There’s a lot going on in Riddle, Kort. Things are picking up.” Jack hesitated a moment. “You have a job?”

“I’m meeting with Chad tomorrow at Riddle Construction. I don’t know if he realizes who he’s hired. They set it up at…” Kort left the sentence hanging.

“Well good. It will be hard work but Chad will do you right.” Jack handed him a menu. “Order up. It’s on me.”

Kort began to protest but Jack insisted. “It’s a welcome back.” Leaning closer to Kort he whispered, “I know you didn’t kill that girl. Hell, anyone who really knew you would agree with me.”

“I appreciate that Jack. I really do.”

Jack slapped him lightly on the back and as he passed the counter girl he told her to give Kort anything he wanted, no charge. She stood across from Kort smiling brightly. He had never seen her before and concluded she had no idea who he was. “I’m Mandy and I’ll be taking care of you. Can I get you something to drink?”

Kort ordered an iced tea and began to study the menu. It had been years since he had been able to choose what he would eat and suddenly there was a veritable smorgasbord being offered. Mandy set the glass of tea down and asked if he was ready to order.

“I’m having a hard time choosing.” He smiled up at her. “What’s good?”

She chuckled, “It’s all good. I’m a salad person myself; but most of the guys say we have the best burgers in the state.” She pointed at a section of the menu that listed a variety of burgers and Kort settled on a bacon cheddar burger and fries.

Mandy went off to place his order and he took a long swallow of the tea. It was cool and fresh and amazing. A mirror on the wall behind the counter reflected the diner behind him and he studied the booths and tables, looking for any familiar faces and hoping he wouldn’t see any. Beyond the tables was the front of the diner; a glass window that extended the length of the restaurant.  Kort watched traffic moving along the street, the hotel on the other side, and a few walkers who were unfamiliar and most likely tourists. He couldn’t imagine why anyone would choose to visit Riddle as part of a vacation.