Rigged (14 page)

“Why’d you put it under the sink? I just used it this morning,” Sherry said.

“Just use a bulbie if you’re so desperate to get sparked,” the man said.

Damn, Charlie thought. Sherry was about to get high again or even more than she already was, as if it hadn’t been hard enough to listen to her in the first place.

“Buncha fuckers,” Sherry said with a laugh. “Drumlins. Can you even believe that shit? Drumlins…”

Charlie heard the flick of a lighter, a sizzle, and the hiss of an inhale just before he heard the barking of dogs. They were a ways off, but they were moving, and they sounded pissed. He double-clutched, part of him saying there wouldn’t be any use in staying around to hear more, but the other part telling him Sherry was a habitual user and was probably more coherent high than she was sober. He needed more information, but the sound of oncoming canines grew more savage as they approached, and he knew they were likely Dobermans or, worse, Rottweilers. Charlie liked dogs, at least as pets, but he was fairly certain that animalistic noise cutting through the air, beasts on the prowl, wasn’t coming from any man’s best friend that would fetch a guy’s slippers in exchange for a belly scratch.

He moved quickly to the fence and peeled back the seam he’d used to get into the park, probably left there from some horny boyfriend hoping to make a quick in-and-out (literally and figuratively) with his girlfriend without looking down the wrong end of a sawed-off shotgun. The thought made Charlie think of high school all over again. The nostalgia was short lived, though, because the pack of pissed-off pups was coming closer with each passing second. He cleared the fence and tucked the seam in not ten seconds before he finally saw the dogs, and as he ran along the opposite side of the fence, they tracked him all the way, till he hit an angle and they just barked and jumped, gnashing their teeth at their departing chew toy.

Charlie made his way back toward the center of town again. He was hungry and needed a moment to collect his thoughts, to try to process what he had seen and heard. Dessert sounded particularly good, perhaps some pie and a cup of coffee. Then again, he still had a hankering for some waffles, so if the walk wasn’t too far, he’d stop in at the Daily Diner. 

Sergeant Nikki Hamill always preferred the corner booth, as she liked to keep an eye on everyone who came in the door, another of the subconscious messages her father had instilled in her at a young age, as he seemed to assume that his daughter would grow up needing to be concerned about being followed. Things became strange, in her opinion, when she noticed Charlie Kelly sitting at the counter chatting with the overnight waitress, Dina. She hadn’t seen him come in and barely recognized him without his hat.

Dina was young, maybe twenty, with frizzy red hair pulled loosely into a beret. Nikki had heard her talk about school at NDSU, but she figured she must have dropped out. She always had one of those bored looks on her face, the indifferent expression kids seem to think they’re supposed to wear, as if showing that they cared about anything would be a bad thing. Charlie sat there with a little smile and occasionally scratched at the hair on his jawline; he clearly hadn’t shaved since he’d arrived in town. Even at thirty years old, he didn’t look like he could grow a full beard; only little patches of adolescent-looking fuzz grew unevenly around his mouth and cheek.

Nikki had already run Charlie’s fingerprints off the coffee cup, as she’d been instructed to, but she’d come up with nothing. She’d even put a call in to one of her friends, requesting an impromptu favor, but she really didn’t expect anything to come of it. She had only mentioned it to Perez in the first place to show him what she was capable of, that, Bluff Falls or not, she was a good investigator. Nikki did her best to turn her attention back to her newspaper, but Dina’s unexpected laugh kept drawing her attention back to the counter. Still, Nikki finished up her BLT, left some money on the table, and had every intention of walking past Charlie and Dina without giving them more than a nod. She didn’t have any intention of noticing Charlie’s gentle smile or his strong hands or the way he carried himself with confidence, not arrogance. No, she didn’t intend to pay attention to any of that.

Nikki wasn’t even within five feet of the two of them at the counter when Dina looked up and motioned her over. “Hey, Sergeant Hamill. Working the late night?”

“No,” Nikki said. “Just finishing up for the night.” She did her best not to give away that she had any interest in Charlie. There weren’t any rules about it, per se since Charlie wasn’t a part of an active investigation, but Perez had his suspicions, and she’d learned that life was infinitely easier when she gave Perez time to sift through his frequent bouts of paranoia.

“How have you been, Sergeant Hamill?” Charlie asked, his eyes looking over his shoulder, but focused on her as he spoke.

“Fine, thanks,” Nikki said.

“Good to hear,” Charlie said. “I can only imagine how stressful your job must be, policing a town like this, with all those trailer and RV parks, strip clubs, oil wells, and bar fights. I apologize for saying so, but it isn’t exactly the nicest weather around either.”

Nikki was glad he hadn’t done something as trite as dropping a negative about her being a woman on the force; only guys trying to pick her up in bars would stoop that low. “Well, you know what they say about dirty jobs.”

“Someone’s gotta do ‘em, right?” Charlie said with a smile.

“Right.”

Charlie looked over at her with his head facing slightly downward, his eyes gentle and sweet. “Well, I’ve only known you a couple days, but from what I can tell, this town is pretty lucky to have you.” It was spoken politely, smooth and without pretense. He was just a strangely nice guy—cheesy but nice—and Hamill found it a welcome relief to have someone around who wasn’t an oil driller, drunk, dealer, or user. 

Charlie slid over a small sugar packet container filled with cards. “You ever seen this before?” he asked. “Seems a bit strange to leave Trivial Pursuit cards on the counter. You must have a lot of smart people around. Hell, I’ve never been good at that game. I can’t even get the sports questions right.”

Dina gave Charlie a little push. “You’re just being modest,” she said. She turned to Nikki and explained, “This fella got, like, six straight history questions.”

“Sure, I can get a few of those, but I still can’t do most of the categories. Dina here’s been destroying me in the entertainment category,” Charlie said.

“I’m good at those questions too,” Nikki said.

“Oh really?” Charlie said with a little smile. He grabbed a card out of the deck. “Let’s see if you can prove it. Ahem…” He cleared his throat loudly and read, “Who directed
Plan 9 From Outer Space
?”

“Ed Wood,” Nikki said.

Charlie raised an eyebrow and turned the card over. “Very nice. Let’s try another.” Charlie took another card. “What sitcom character role was made famous by Conrad Bain? Oh, even I know this one.”

“Mr. Drummond,” Dina said.

“Isn’t it Drumlin?” Charlie asked.

“No, she’s right,” Nikki said. “Phillip Drummond.”

Dina shook her head and smiled. She started to say something but stopped herself and grinned again.

“What?” Charlie asked.

“Oh nothing,” Dina said, continuing to smile. “It’s just that it made me think of that old pharmacy from when I was a kid.”

“There was a place around here called Drummond’s in the eighties?” Charlie asked. “I’m sure there were what-chu-talkin’-‘bout-Willis jokes aplenty.”

“No,” Dina said, “not Drummonds. The place was called Drumlins’, and it was one of those throwback joints—you know, with owners who refused to update anything beyond the fifties. There was even an actual soda fountain. We used to buy those little wax bottles that we had to bite the top off of to get the sip of juice out, or those little candy dots stuck to a roll of wax paper.”

“I don’t remember a place like around here,” Nikki said.

“That’s ‘cause it was a bit before you move here with your folks. The guy who owned it passed away, and the place was more or less abandoned after that. It’s still standin’, though, over on Blecker Street,” Dina said.

“Blecker, huh?” Nikki knew the place. As she recalled it, the outside wall was covered with spray paint and broken glass. There was more urine on the wall than paint most of the time, and it wasn’t the kind of place she had any interest in hanging around; few people did, for that matter. She couldn’t remember ever being called there, not even for squatters or stoners crashing in the dump. It was just another dilapidated old building that no one wanted or needed any more.

A bell rang in the kitchen, and Dina excused herself momentarily, only to return with a stack of waffles and whipped cream with strawberries. She set it down in front of Charlie, who looked completely content at the idea of having breakfast at one in the morning.

“Looks like you decided to stick around for a little while, huh?” Nikki asked. It wasn’t her intent to pry or sound like a cop, as she meant for it to sound like casual chitchat, but she’d been a cop for so long that almost every conversation came out that at way.

Charlie wiped the whipped cream from the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, I’ve been trying to figure out where to head to next, and I figured I might as well hang around for a bit, rather than getting on a bus to destination God-knows-where. Got any suggestions?”

“What kind of place are you looking for?” Nikki asked.

“I’m thinking someplace warm, as I’m not a fan of your rather inhospitable weather here. Maybe California. Ever been?” Charlie looked up at Dina and over at Nikki, then back down at his waffles.

Dina said she’d never been out of the Midwest, but Nikki disclosed that she’d lived in California for a little while, as well as that she’d traveled around a lot as a kid with two parents in the military.

“You a fan of any Cali spot in particular? Anyplace you can recommend?” Charlie asked.

“I always liked San Francisco, but it gets kind of cold this time of year, especially in the bay. There’s always La Jolla, near San Diego. It’s usually hazy in the morning, but that burns off by noon. Beautiful place to be if you can afford it.”

“Ain’t that always the way?” Charlie asked with a smirk. He finished the last of his waffles and wiped his mouth again. “Well, if you ladies will excuse me. It’s a bit late, and I think I’ll be turning in for the night.”

“Where are you staying?” Nikki asked, though she regretted the question as soon as it burst through her lips. It sounded far too much like a proposition, and she felt herself blush.

“Well, finances aren’t exactly up to the standards of La Jolla at the moment, so I’m at the Motor Inn a few blocks away.” Charlie left a few bills on the counter and excused himself.

After he was gone, Nikki thought things over. She thought about how she’d sounded during the conversation and how Charlie had reacted. She’d never been one to be promiscuous; then again, Charlie hadn’t made it seem like he was either. Just as she was actually considering following him out the door to see if he wanted to get a nightcap, her military intelligence friend called her on her cell phone. She excused herself and headed outside to answer the call, she looked around briefly out of curiosity, but Charlie was already gone out of sight. Her contact didn’t want to talk; he simply informed her that there was something she needed to see and told her to be watching for a file in the morning, a file on one Charlie Kelly. He refused to go into further detail, stating, “You’re on your cell phone, and it’s not safe—for anyone.”

Chapter 14

Sergeant Perez sat in the park, on top of a picnic table, enjoying the peace and relative serenity of the moment. The park was on the outskirts of town, but regardless of how far away he got there was always a liquor store or trailer park there to interrupt his view. The world had grown strange indeed. He’d moved to North Dakota from Chicago, in part, for the change of pace. They were hard up for experienced cops at the time, and the money was good. He was also certain it would only help his marriage, which seemed to disintegrate more and more with every late night or stakeout. When his wife got sick, Perez’s first thought was that he needed to take care of her, but soon after that, he realized he’d given up his Chicago life for those empty North Dakota plains, and he wasn’t quite sure if it was a fair tradeoff; especially without his wife.

It was with welcome reprieve from his wandering thoughts that Sergeant Hamill plopped a file folder down beside him, while wearing that little victory smile that so annoyed him—the same one she wore every time she beat him at darts, which was often.

“What’s that?” Perez asked as he chewed the soggy end of a stick from a long-since-devoured gas station corndog.

“A ghost.”

Perez stopped his absentminded gnawing long enough to give his partner a quizzical glance.

“From my friends,” Hamill said.

Perez sighed. “When these supposed friends of yours talk, I get heartburn.”

“Hmm. I’d venture to say that has more to do with the corndogs than with my friends.”

“Don’t blame the corndogs.” Perez paused. “So, what do your so-called friends say?”

“He’s a spook.”

Perez chomped down hard on the stick and spoke through clenched teeth. “CIA?”

Nikki nodded. “Go ahead and check it out. It’s all right there in the file,” Hamill said as she nudged the manila folder closer to her partner.

Perez cast a wayward stare out over the park. “Meh, just give me the abridged version.”

Hamill picked up the file and glanced through it. “Charlie Kelly, age thirty-one, born in Omaha, Nebraska. Both parents deceased, one sister, last place of residence listed as St. Louis, Missouri. Had a minor rap sheet as a juvenile. Charlie was recruited by the Agency out of a community college, of all places. Nothing special in the grades department, criminal justice major, like he wanted to be a cop. IQ normal. I’ve got no clue what the recruiter saw in him, but next thing they knew, he was running circles around everyone else at the Farm.”