Road to Nowhere (37 page)

“The board’s going to vote it down anyway,” Everett said.

“I don’t know about that,” Ed said. “The last I saw in the newspaper, Esterhouse and Carter are leaning yes and Brown and Gulotsky are leaning no. So it might be up to Randy here.”

The feeling down in Randy’s stomach twisted like a knife. “I wouldn’t count on those,” he said. “Luke is only guessing anyway.”

“Randy’s voting no,” Everett said.

“That was before they center,” Ed said. “That makes a big difference.”

“He’s still voting no.”

“I think he should vote yes.”

Everett gave up on the screaming. “I don’t think I’d believe anything he said anyway.” That was interesting, too, being talked about like he wasn’t right there listening. “I’m meeting Joe Esterhouse this afternoon. Maybe he’ll listen to reason.”

Good gravy. That was one meeting Randy was glad to miss.

“Randy McCoy!”

A blue Ford had pulled to the curb beside them, and all four of them, Ed, Everett, Sue Ann, and Randy himself, jerked around to look.

“Well, good evening, Humphrey.”

Humphrey King threw his door open and squeezed himself out of the car and came running, as fast as he could, around the car to them.

“Randy! Tell me it isn’t true!”

“We’re here talking about the new shopping center,” Randy said.

“I go on vacation, and they call me in Florida and say a huge new grocery store’s coming just a couple miles down the road from mine. Randy, we’ve got to stop it.”

“We’re going to,” Everett said, and Randy took a deep breath, waiting for Ed to jump back into the fray.

But Humphrey’s voice had been loud enough to carry across the street to the other side of Hemlock.

“Stop what?”

Randy still had Sue Ann’s hand in his, and he pulled her back a little from the bonfire, and they watched Richard Colony trot over to them.

“Stop the shopping center,” Everett said.

“It’ll ruin us,” Humphrey said.

“It’s competition,” Ed said. “Most businesses get better when they have to compete.”

“It’s not fair against a big chain, though,” Humphrey said, and turned to Richard. “We have to stop it!”

Randy saw Richard’s frown. The knife in his stomach turned again.

“I wouldn’t mind that shopping center.”

“Wouldn’t mind?” Everett about screamed. “Wouldn’t mind a highway where your front yard used to be?”

“I’ve started looking at houses in Gold Valley,” Richard said.

That was it.

“Sue Ann, that pot roast of yours!”

Her mouth fell open. “Pot roast? What . . .”

“It’ll burn,” Randy said, turning and pulling her along, gently but firmly. “I don’t think we ever thought we’d be out this long.”

“There’s nothing in the . . .” she started, but they were already far away enough that the neighbors at the corner couldn’t quite hear.

“You all have a nice day,” Randy called back to them, and then to Sue Ann in a low voice, “I just said that so we could excuse ourselves.”

“Oh.” Sue Ann’s eyes were open wide. “I see. That was smart, Randy. You’re getting good at this.”

Wasn’t another person in the courthouse. Joe sat in his usual chair in the big room and waited. Rain drumming on the windows.

Just on time. Everett Colony slammed open the main door, still shaking his umbrella. He didn’t know where to sit right off. Finally he pulled a chair up to the other side of the table.

“Thank you for meeting me,” he said. He didn’t sound thankful. “I want to get this road done with. I don’t want months more of fighting.”

“I think there will be,” Joe said.

“Randy McCoy’s no help,” Colony said. “He’s not listening to his own people. I want to get you to listen to reason.”

“I’ve been listening to a lot, but not much reason,” Joe said. “You’re not the only one in this county, Dr. Colony, and your neighbors aren’t the only ones.”

“We’re the ones affected.”

“Nobody’s looking past themselves,” Joe said. “That’s how it’s been from the start. They’ll do anything to get their way, whoever gets hurt.”

They were both hot angry, and there hadn’t been much chance at the start they weren’t going to be.

“You’re accusing me again,” Colony said.

“I’m not.”

“I know you are. You still think Wade Harris was killed, don’t you? I knew this was a waste of time talking to you.”

Right then the door opened again.

“Good afternoon, Roger,” Joe said.

Roger Gallaudet stared at the two of them sitting, rain dripping off his coat. “What’s this about?”

“What is it about?” Dr. Colony said.

“I called him to come,” Joe said. “After you called me, Dr. Colony. I’d like a word with the both of you.”

Colony was standing. “I’m not putting up with this.”

“Sit down,” Joe said, “and you, too, Roger. I’ve had enough of you two tearing on each other, and I want to get to the bottom of it.” Nobody had moved, Roger from the door or Colony from his place. “I’ll be voting on the road depending on what I find out here.”

That was enough. They both took seats, the three of them in a triangle.

“I know you’ve got a quarrel over Wade Harris.” Joe looked to Roger. “You say the doctor didn’t do his job. And you say Roger shouldn’t be raising trouble.”

“It’s not the first time,” Everett Colony said. “He causes a lot of harm with those accusations.”

“I’m doing my job, Dr. Colony.”

“We’ll leave that,” Joe said. “Because there’s something else, and I’ll ask you to hear me out. Roger, what part do you have with Warrior Land Trust?”

Roger’s look was enough.

“Your wife owns that land, doesn’t she?” Joe said.

“You have plenty of reason to want Gold River Highway built, don’t you?”

“I’d retire, Joe. Yes, I’d like the road built. But that has nothing to do with Wade Harris.”

“I think it does,” Everett Colony said. “I think you’re calling that a murder to ruin me.”

“I’m not calling it a murder.”

“And to make anybody against the road look like a criminal. You don’t have to call it a murder,” Colony said. “You just need to whisper around like you’ve been doing. Ruin my reputation, and once I’m out of your way, no one else will stand up to this road. They’ll be afraid to. You’ll start calling them murderers behind their backs, too.”

“Stop,” Joe said. “He’s talked to me and Gordon, and no one else.”

“What about Steve Carter?”

“Steve Carter has his own ideas, and they’re not from Roger,” Joe said. “Same with Randy McCoy and Roland Coates. Doesn’t that make you think a little harder, Dr. Colony?”

“I know what I think.”

“It’s not what you think, but what’s true?” Joe asked.

But Dr. Colony had had enough and was walking out. “I don’t care what’s true,” he said. “It doesn’t concern me.”

He and Roger waited for the door to close. “I’m sorry, Roger,” he said. “I want to know the truth.”

“I’m sorry, too, Joe. I should have told you about Grace.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Because you might not have believed me.”

“Should I now?” Joe asked.

“I never knew anything very sure in the first place.”

“Would you say it’s less sure now?”

“Just forget it, Joe. I want the road too much, and it’s too much that I do want Everett Colony out of the way of it. I can’t trust myself.”

“All right. Thank you, Roger. I appreciate it.”

Rain had about stopped.

August 15, Tuesday

Byron was coming down the hall from the front door and Louise followed him in to the television room.

“Worst day I can remember!” he said, just dropping into his chair. “And worse than that to come.”

She turned her chair so she could see him. “Are you all right?”

“Right as I can be after the day I’ve had.”

“Well what’s been happening?”

“Trucks backed up in the parking lot. Half the plant working receiving. We couldn’t unload them fast enough.” He closed his eyes like he’d fall asleep. “Never seen so much coming in the dock.”

“What was it?”

“Everything. Wood, hardware, lacquers, machine parts, everything. A whole month’s supplies and more coming in one day.”

“Well, why?”

“Just to wear us all out. How should I know? And I was getting all the saws oiled and new blades. Mr. Coates said, ‘Byron, I want those saws ready to run two months without stopping.’ And I said, ‘Do we have some orders in, Mr. Coates?’ And he said, ‘It doesn’t matter. We’re going three shifts and Saturdays, and I don’t want to lose a minute for a broken-down saw or a drill.’ Then when I was done with the saws, I worked on the drills. And when I was done with the drills, I was helping Grady with the overhead crane.”

“Will you be working shifts?” Byron didn’t like his regular days turned topsy-turvy with evening and night work.

“Might be. Mr. Coates said, ‘Byron, I’ll need your help, and all the long-timers. I’ll be calling in everyone I’ve ever had here and hiring temporary if I need to, and someone’ll need to be watching to make sure the work’s being done right.”

“There must be a reason,” Louise said. “Mr. Coates, of all people. And he hadn’t said anything before today?”

“Not a word. Nobody knew until the trucks started pulling in, and then Doris starting handing out everyone’s shift hour schedules. I’ll get mine tomorrow. And tomorrow we’ll get the production schedules. Doris said she’ll be there all night working out how we’re supposed to build everything Mr. Coates wants.”

“Mr. Coates must have done the ordering at least last week for it to all come in today.”

Byron was nodding. “Thought the same thing myself. Doris said Mr. Coates had told her he was doing some ordering himself, which he does sometimes. But she looked in the file cabinet when it was all coming in today, and that’s when she saw what a lot of it was. And this is what she told me. Mr. Coates did it all on Tuesday morning last week, first thing when he came in. Then he didn’t tell a soul, and not a person in the factory even noticed he was doing it.”

“That was right after the board meeting.”

“Wonder if that could mean anything,” Byron said.

August 16,Wednesday

Jeremy Coates appeared plain uncomfortable, sitting across the desk from Randy, straight and stiff, and as sullen as a two-year-old.

“Thanks so much for coming,” Randy said. “It’s just a simple question and we could have done it on the telephone.”

“I don’t trust talking on telephones,” Jeremy said. “I don’t know who’s listening.”

“It would just have been me, and it doesn’t matter anyway, and it’s just a simple question.”

“Well what is it?”

“Back a month or two ago—let’s see, it would have been in June at the high school graduation—I heard sort of secondhand that you’d been out to see Wade Harris in Gold Valley.”

That riled Jeremy. “What about it?” He leaned forward like he might even be ready to throw a punch. Randy eased himself backward in the chair to get a little more out of range.

“Nothing! Nothing at all. It’s not about you, Jeremy, it’s more I’m curious about Wade. Because it sounded like when you met him that day of his accident, you might have been the last person to see him.”

“I didn’t see him.”

“Didn’t you have a meeting set up with him?”

“Who says I did?”

“His wife. She asked me about you.”

“His wife.” That took some lip chewing, but finally Jeremy decided what to say. “We did have a meeting scheduled, but he never showed up.”

“You were waiting for him?”

“There at his office. But he never came. Look, Randy, don’t tell that around. I already told Gordon Hite I wasn’t even in the county.”

“Why would Gordon care where you were?”

“That’s something else, and it doesn’t matter. I never saw Wade Harris that day.”

“Then I don’t understand,” Randy said, and he didn’t. “He was coming over the mountain into town when he went off the road.”

Jeremy had put on the most suspicious, skeptical look a person could. “I don’t know what he was doing. But he never showed up.”

“Gordon’s asking you questions? Are you in trouble, Jeremy?”

“Has anybody told you I was?”

“Well, no, nobody’s said anything.”

Now Jeremy was looking a little more calculating and shrewd.

“Is there anything else you want to ask me?”

“That’s all. I was just asking about Wade.”

“Then that’s all I know.”

Randy was feeling somewhat confused. “That’s fine.”

Steve was sure wishing he’d brought his own stepladder. When Patsy had said there was one at the courthouse, he should have known it would be as old as the building itself. But he was at the ceiling and he could see the plywood up close.

It was the same brown as the walls. It was nailed up—lots of nails.

“Oh, man!” he said to the empty room. One-inch plywood! Did they even make that anymore? It was going to weigh a ton!

Calculate—four feet by eight feet by one inch, convert to metric, density about point seven—well, almost a hundred pounds. But that big, it was still going to take two guys and real stepladders. Good grief.

While he was up close, he took the opportunity to appreciate the artwork on the ceiling. What it lacked in subtlety, taste, skill, balance, and artistry, it made up in pure garishness, although maybe a typical Jefferson County native might be better equipped to appreciate it. A person had to be up close, though, to really see the brushwork and facial expressions in detail. Good grief.

“I’ll tell you, maybe I should retire.”

“If you do, Byron,” Louise said, “I’ll move out.”

“Wouldn’t be any peace or quiet here with you anyway. Not that there’s any at the factory these days.”

She’d made his favorite chicken and cheese casserole. “What was it like today?”

“Still trucks coming in. And twenty new people, but mostly who’ve been there before. And they’re starting shifts tonight.”

“Are you working nights?”

“Not the first two weeks.”

“Has he said why he’s doing it all?”

“Not a word. But Jeremy was in this morning, and they had plenty of words for each other. They were up in the office and I only heard a little when I went up front for some work orders. Jeremy wants to know what all the extra work is about, and Mr. Coates won’t tell him. I think that’s why he won’t tell anybody—so Jeremy won’t find out.”