Adios Angel (4 page)

“I was wonderin’ when you was gonna show up.  Ya’
didn’t even wake up to kiss your best gal good-bye this mornin’.  Just because
we’re gettin’ married at Christmas time doesn’t mean you can treat me like some
sort of strumpet--which, by the by--I ain’t no such thing.”

Sheriff Hanks glanced around the cafe.  Between the
small number of late breakfast and real early lunch diners, the main part of
the cafe was mostly empty.  In the back part of the café, within earshot of
Doreen’s sassy remark, the town ministers of Safford were gathered for their
monthly association meeting.  They stopped a quiet discussion to hone in on
Doreen’s quip.  Zeb could practically see their ears burning as she blurted out
strumpet.  Now she was almost advertising that the two of them were living in
what the churchmen would certainly consider sin.

“I was out like a light.  Maybe it was you who should
have kissed me goodbye?” said Zeb, keeping his voice low.  His personal
business was of no concern to the gathered preachers.

“Shucks almighty, you was sleepin’ like an angel.
Wakin’ you up woulda’ just been plain wrong.”  Doreen bent down towards Zeb’s
ear and whispered. “I suppose then that you might not be able to give me all
the details about the bomb threat that forced all them poor kids out onto the
football field this mornin’?”

It never failed to amaze Zeb how Doreen got the buzz
on whatever happened in town damn near
before
it happened.  It always
seemed to be telephone, telegraph, tell Doreen and tell the world.  Not that it
mattered, but once again he asked how she knew what she knew and once again he
got a convoluted answer, which seemed to be nothing less than perfectly logical
to Doreen.

“Every day Maxine Miller, you know Maxine who worked
here on and off for years, she works up at the school now, I don’t blame the
girl, she gets health benefits and all which I could not afford to give her and
God knows she needs them bein’ with child and all.  Anyway, she works in the
principal’s office and every mornin’ after they get the attendance, that’s one
of her jobs, which sorta surprises me because she was never very organized,
they send her down here for donuts for the teacher’s lounge.  I swear teachers
eat more donuts than anyone.  Don’t you think?”

The rat-a-tat machine gun answer gave Sheriff Hanks a
reason to smile as he glanced down at his protruding belly.  Doreen kept firing
away.

“Well, almost everyone that is, present company
excluded, when it comes to donuts.  So when she didn’t show up on time, she’s
always here at eight fifty-five on the nose, always on time that gal, never
organized but always prompt, even knew exactly when her monthly was coming,
that’s why I’m surprised she got knocked up.   Now that I think about it, she
musta’ wanted a baby with or without a daddy that might hang around for the
duration.  That Schmid boy, he’s the father, I hear tell he’s already outta the
picture. Joined up with Uncle Sam is what I heard.  Well, when she didn’t show,
I called up there and no one answered the phone in Principal Newlin’s office. 
That seemed sort of strange, dontcha’ think?” Zeb nodded. “Why wouldn’t anyone
be at the school?  Well, I put the phone down and called again, figurin’ maybe
the attendance was takin’ longer than usual or the phones were tied up callin’
parents about kids who didn’t show up to see if they were really sick.  That’s
one of her jobs too. She does a bunch a weird stuff.  No answer agin’.  So I
got to thinkin’…”

“Uh-oh, thinking might mean trouble,” interjected Zeb.

“Oh hush up yer mouth.  I got to thinkin’ maybe I got
the wrong number?  I knew I didn’t but I looked it up in the phone book
anyways.  Funny how when somethin don’t feel right we stop trustin’ ourselves
first, ain’t it Zeb?   I mean why on God’s green earth would I think I had
somethin’ screwed up?”

“I hadn’t thought about it quite like you just
explained.  But, I suppose you’re right.”

Zeb beamed with a new found personal pride.  He might
have finally learned to never disagree with a woman when she is making a
point.   Just maybe he was learning about women in general, Doreen in
particular.

“Anyway, then I got to thinkin’ that about five
minutes earlier I seen ol’ Josh Diamond in his pickup truck, with them
bloodhounds of his, headin’ up the school road.  Right away I got to thinkin’--bomb
threat.”

“Hold on a sec, Doe.  That’s some mighty fast
figuring.  How come you thought that?   You know he trains those dogs out
toward the Mount.  He could have just been on his way out there.”

“Nope.  For sure nope.  When he’s headed up trainin’
on the Mount, he always stops by for a large coffee and some meat scraps for
the dogs.  Besides he was speedin’ and that good ol’ boy never moves that
fast.”

“You got him pegged on that one.”

“Both you and Jake told me Josh was a dog and
demolitions expert durin’ both his military and border patrol time.  All hell
and tarnation should become me if I couldnta’ put something that obvious
together.  What do I look like anyway?   Some sort of ditzoid lamebrain?”

Zeb looked at the lovely, crazy women who would soon
be his wife.  He knew of no other human being who so succinctly verbalized what
went on inside her head.  Not even a child could do it so well.

“Then about five minutes later ol’ Mrs. Cordoli comes
in and tells me every kid at the high school is standin’ out on the football
field.  She says she seen your car is up there too.  She seen it pull up with
yer’ cherry spinnin’ and yer siren whoop whoopin’ away. Coffee?”

“How about a Pepto Bismol, straight up?”

“Yer stomach still barkin’ back atcha?  I thought you
said it was all better.  You been holdin’ the truth back on me?”

“Too much coffee on an empty stomach...”

“Hell’s bells, sweetie pie. I got just the thing for
that.  Chamomile tea to calm the tummy ache, a few biscuits to sop up them
nasty digestive juices and you just might be feelin’ better.”

“…and a few too many crimes for a county this size.”

Doreen paused.  She looked her man in the eye and
could see that things were really bothering him.  She made an attempt to cheer
his obviously dampened spirits. 

“Can’t do nothin’ ‘bout that crime wave, unless you
deputize me.  Say, that reminds me.  After we get hitched up am I automatically
made into a deputy by the law?  It seems I oughta’ be.  In fact there must be a
law regardin’ such things.”

“There is.”

“There is?”

“It’s called the Zeb Hanks law.  It goes exactly like
this.  My wife can never have anything to do with anything about the law and
should a time come when she thinks she can, I am no longer to be considered her
dearly beloved husband.”

“Hon, I’m sorry.  What’s botherin’ you?  I mean what’s
really chewin’ away at yer innards?”

“Something Helen said to me this morning…”

“Did she shoo you away from her desk agin’?”

“Nothing like that. “

“Snoopin’ in on yer private phone conversations?”

“Always. But that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Well, hell’s bells and buckets a blood spit it out
Zebulon Hanks.”

“I am trying to.”

“Well zip my lip,” Doe made the universal symbol of
someone zipping their lips shut.  Zeb rolled his eyes and smiled.

“After we got the bomb threat Helen asked me, “What’s
wrong with people anyway?”   You know, I got to thinking about it.  It sure
seems like people are changing.  I mean we have had more car thefts, robberies,
petty theft and harassment in Safford in the last six months than in the last
two years.  Now with this bomb threat at the school--well--it just makes you
wonder where in the world things are headed.  Next thing you know people will
be thinking they have to lock their doors at night.  Already I see more and
more people locking up their cars just to run into the store for a couple of
things.”

“Zeb darlin’, you’ve burned enough tread off yer tries
to know that bad luck comes in streaks.  It runs on the same kinda path that
good luck does.  It just happens to be one of them down times.  It’ll sure
enough change, always does, sure as the sun brightens the day and stars twinkle
in the night.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“At times like this you just gotta grab onto the one
ya’ love and hold on tight.  I think that’s why the good Lord put me on the
planet.”

Doreen slipped around the counter, twisted Zeb’s stool
around and plopped onto his lap.  She planted a huge, wet kiss on his lips
while running a pair of wildly caressing hands up and down his back, then
squeezed him enough to make the two of them one person.  Her movements caught
the ministers’ attention. 

“This one’s for you preacher boys.”

Doreen embarrassed Zeb by making a loud smacking sound
as she kissed him.  Her hand then gently pulled up her skirt just high enough
to reveal the better part of a creamy white thigh.

“Doe, honey, you’re embarrassing me.”

The buxom waitress leaned forward and whispered in her
man’s ear.

“If I’d really wanted to embarrass you, I’d say
somethin’ about your breath.  It smells like the south end of donkey headin’
north.  I’m calling Doc Yackley.  Either you got a rotten tooth or the makings
of an ulcer.”

“Oh, so now you’re a business woman, a detective, a dentist
and a doctor.”

“A lick a horse sense is all it takes.  You might want
to take a lesson from that.  I probably’d make a pretty dang good doctor if
there weren’t no blood involved in it.”

“How about that tea and biscuits…Doctor Doreen
Nightingale?”

“Comin’ right atcha, one second after I ring up Doc
Yackley.  But doncha’ think for one minute sweet talking me will get you a pass
on seein’ the doc.  You’re gonna go even if I gotta carry ya to his office.”

Zeb knew she was right.  His stomach hadn’t been
normal since he had a couple of bouts of the flu a while back.  His gut was not
that bad, but it wasn’t strong like it had been before he got sick.  How Doreen
knew what was bothering him was another one of those little mysteries about
women that puzzled him.  He checked his breath by putting his hand in front of
his mouth and blowing into his palm.  It smelled sickly, a bit like an
infection.  The chamomile tea seemed to calm his stomach and the biscuits were
heavenly.  Twice Doreen reminded him he was eating too fast.

“I gotta run, Doe.  I have a thousand places to begin
the investigation into the school bomb threat.  There are almost too many
possibilities to know exactly where to begin.”

“Why don’t you just start at the beginning?”

“Now that you mention it, I guess the beginning is as
good of a place as any.”

“Don’t get sassy with me or your tummy will start
howlin’ again.  That’s the way those things work, ya know.”

Zeb reached for his wallet.  Doreen refused his
payment and handed him a blueberry muffin for Helen.  

“Somebody’s gotta give ya’ a break, big guy.  Ya’ know
what they say--charity reaches out its longest arm to a lover.”

Zeb grabbed his hat and made for the exit.  He tossed
Doreen a subtle wink, and after making certain the churchmen were looking the
other way, Zeb blew Doreen a quick air kiss. 

Outside of the Town Talk Diner the air was crystal
clear; the sky, with sparse clouds floating over the mountain, was blue and
bright.  Suddenly Zeb felt physically better than he had in weeks. Maybe he
would get a quick break on the bomb threat investigation.  He took a deep,
relaxing breath. He concluded that probably some angry, foolish kid had made
the call to impress his buddies.  Odds were pretty good that before long one of
the punks would be crowing about how they had pulled a fast one over on the
cops.  With any luck he would have the caller behind bars in less than a week. 
It made no sense getting worked up over a lousy day and a bad couple of weeks. 
He would do his job.  He would get to the bottom of all the recent
shenanigans.  Something this big would bring him leads by tomorrow at the
latest.  Maybe he would have the bomb threat wrapped up in nothing flat. Even
the possibility of his brother, Noah, being the car thief who stole the red
corvette seemed less likely. He hoped that the car dealer had mistaken someone
else for Noah.  But Zeb also knew that with his brother’s history, his hopeful
thinking was likely unrealistic optimism.  Zeb knew Noah had been full of
criminal intent since he was a pre-teen.  There was no reason to believe that
anything had changed.

Zeb was glad his old friend Max Muñoz was the
detective involved with Lorenzo García’s stolen truck in Tucson. The fact that
a dead body had been found in the truck was bad news, real bad news.  While the
victim was not really his problem, there was an outside chance that there was
some sort of connection to the Garcías.  He decided to wait to call his old
buddy until after he got the report from the Tucson police department, and
after Delbert had time to explain to old man García what had happened to his
truck. 

Maybe the psychological trauma of having a dead body found
in his truck would stir up something in Lorenzo’s memory.  Maybe the old man
had seen something and blocked it out or ignored it.  Now with his truck gone
forever, it might just unlock the part of his mind that held a clue.  More than
once in this type of a circumstance Zeb had seen people cough up knowledge they
didn’t know they had.  At the state sheriff’s convention he had attended a
seminar on repressed memory.  Yes, this could certainly be that sort of thing. 
It was no big stretch to see how people put up a protective wall when loss
occurred.  Zeb’s world looked potentially brighter by the minute.  His stomach
actually felt good as he handed Helen her blueberry muffin.

“Made special just for you.”

“You are a sweetheart.  So is Doreen for thinking of
me.”

“Is Deputy Steele back yet?”

“She’s in her office listening to the tape.”

“Would you tell her I would like to talk with her when
she has a minute?  And, could you please bring me a cup of cof--never mind.  Do
we have any chamomile tea?”

Helen, surprised by the request, did a double take. 
Without asking questions she quickly made the sheriff a cup of tea.

Zeb shook his head in self-disgust as he got down to
filling out his report.  If he was not thinking clearly enough to know that
coffee was burning a hole in his gut, how would he ever get to the bottom of a
crime spree in his county, or figure out if his brother was indeed the car
thief who stole the Corvette?  A couple of deep breaths later he realized it
was the thought of a school building, with hundreds of helpless children in it,
being threatened that really stuck in his craw.  His irritation was rising as
Deputy Steele rapped lightly on his door.  The sound snapped him back from a
progressive abyss of angry thoughts.  Her easy demeanor was also helpful.

“Kate, come in, have a seat.  Please tell me you’ve
got something.  I would like to get this thing wrapped up quickly, for
everyone’s sake.”

Deputy Kate Steele pulled a small notebook from her
shirt pocket.

“No recently fired or disgruntled employees at the
school.”

“That’s good.  I would hate to think it was an insider
who would do such an idiotic thing.”

“Principal Newlin did give me a list of recently
expelled students, dropouts and major troublemakers.  It’s not a long list,
eight boys and two girls.  The boys are all members of a gang called the Little
Brothers and Sisters.”

“Little Brothers and Sisters?  New gang?”

“A mix of Anglos, Hispanic and Native kids.  Kids on
the edge.  Principal Newlin says they are mixed up but mostly lonely types.”

Sheriff Hanks shook his head. Lonely boys?  In his day
even the biggest loser had at least one good buddy.  What was the world coming
to?

“Tell me about the girls?”

“They have created minor problems compared to the
boys.  But, they were overheard talking about getting back at the school for
being put on detention.”

“Why were they on detention?”

“Smoking in the lavatory, fighting with other girls
and stealing money from purses.  The usual sort of thing that happens with
troublemakers their age.”

“Budding bathroom muggers maybe?”

“Girls have been settling their differences in
lavatories since before my time.  I’m going to talk with everyone on the list
she gave me.  At this time I consider all of them potential suspects.  Maybe
working together as a group.  And don’t be naïve, Sheriff, girls can be just as
bad as boys.”

Deputy Steele read off the names to the sheriff.  He
knew most of the kids.  Three of the boys he had coached in little league
baseball.  He remembered seeing the girls riding their bikes around town only
last summer.  How could someone go from bicyclist to bomb threat maker in a few
short months?  It all seemed so ridiculous.

“Divide the list in half.  I’ll take five of the
boys.  What did you learn from the tape?”

“I listened twice.  The roughness of his voice sounds
like an older man, a smoker.  This may sound odd, but to me his voice sounded
frightened, even sorrowful, like he was speaking with regret.”

“Hmm?”

“The Hispanic accent is rural sounding,” continued Deputy
Steele.  “He also has a bit of a Native American tone to his voice, but not
like the San Carlos Apache accent.”

“Ever heard a Mescalero Apache accent?”

“No, not that I know of.”

“I think that is what we are hearing.”

“Okay.”

“What else do you have?” asked Sheriff Hanks.

“The caller’s sentence structure might indicate a lack
of formal education, except for one thing.”    

“What’s the exception?”

“He said the bomb would go off at nine o’clock sharp,”
said Deputy Steele.  “That specific wording doesn’t jibe with the rest of his
words.  Nine o’clock sharp is more the type of phrase a businessman or an
educated person would use.”

“Maybe he heard it on a television detective show.
Lots of dumb criminals get their ideas from the boob tube.”

“Maybe.  The more I listen to the tape, the less I
believe it is high school kids we’re looking for.”

“An older friend of a high school kid?”

“Maybe.”

“We have got to start somewhere.  We should focus on
these kids and see if we can make a connection.”

“Give me five names and let’s get started,” said the
sheriff.  “There is going to be a lot of heat from parents and the school board
to solve this thing pronto.”

“I know.  Fifty or sixty parents came and got their
kids in the hour I was at the school.  Quite a few more called the principal’s
office and said they were on their way to pick up their kids.  This put quite a
scare into a lot of families.”

“Sheriff!  Sheriff!”

The panic in Helen’s strained voice sent a chill
through Zeb’s bones.  The shrillness of Helen’s statement had a life and death
quality to it.

“It’s another bomb threat.  It sounds like the same
man.”

Sheriff Hanks picked up his phone.  All he heard was
static, a loud click and the hum of dial tone.

“Shit!  Goddamn it!”

“The grade school.  This time the man said he planted
a bomb in the grade school--in the boiler room.  It’s set to go off at one!”

“This is insane.  We’re dealing with the lives of
little children here.  Helen, call the school. Have them get everyone out. 
Now!  Kate, call Josh Diamond at the gun shop.  Have him take his dogs there on
the double.  I’ll call Delbert on the radio on my way up there and have him
meet us.”

Zeb’s mind did a triple take as it flipped through a
catalogue of haunting memories of the grotesque octopus of a boiler in the basement
of the grade school building.  As a child he had helped his father deliver coal
to fire the furnace.  As a member of the school board he had led the charge
recommending conversion to a gas boiler.  Only last week he had called the
school to tell them the old coal chute window was open.  It was odd he had
noticed it at all.  What had caught his eye was a stray cat scampering out the
backlit window.  It would be nothing for someone to push the window all the way
open, slip in and plant a bomb next to the gas furnace. 

Zeb was only eight when his first glimpse of the
basement monster caused him to lose weeks of sleep and struggle with dozens of
nightmares.  In his youthful, imaginative dreamscape he had envisioned the
furnace as a cross between a fire-breathing dragon and a demonic octopus.
Nipping at his heels, it had chased young Zeb into a friendless, dead-end
alley.  Flames rising from the depths of the beast’s belly had shot searing
spears of heat licking at his face.  The machine’s pipes had become wildly
gyrating arms with suctioned tentacles whose only desire seemed to be to snatch
little Zeb and carry him off to the fires of hell and eternal damnation.  The
memory sent shudders through his spine.

“Deputy Steele, take the emergency patrol car.  It has
our best first aid equipment.  Helen, call the fire department.  Tell them to
get up there immediately.”

A quick call to Deputy Funke assured Zeb his team
would be at full strength when looking for the bomb.

For the second time in half a day the sheriff was
overcome with a gut wrenching angst.  Luckily he caught another break.  The
kids had finished eating lunch and were outside playing. Teachers were quickly
hustling them to a vacant lot. 

Josh Diamond’s dogs were tugging hard against their
restraints as they stuck their noses near the old coal chute.  He waived them
away from the opening.

“My dogs are onto something, Zeb.  Let’s get in there
and have a look.”

Sheriff Hanks was the first of his team on the scene,
or so he thought.  He stuck his head through the old coal chute opening.  Josh,
his dogs settled ten feet back, joined Zeb at the opening.  A ray from a
flashlight jerked across the cement floor in tandem with the stride of an intruder. 
The sheriff took his weapon from his holster and drew it up by the opening.  He
looked again as the flashlight beam appeared with a body coming around the
corner.  He lifted his gun and found Delbert in the crosshairs.  “Shit.” 
Delbert was in the boiler room.  Had he forgotten to tell Delbert to wait
outside the boiler room door?  He distinctly remembered otherwise.  Zeb began
to shout, “Del...” at precisely the moment Delbert looked toward the coal chute
window.  Delbert could not have heard the sheriff’s voice over the explosion.

“No,” cried Sheriff Hanks.  His plea was in vain.  In
what seemed like an eternity a brick flew through the air, destined for
Delbert’s skull. Another brick flew through the air striking Josh in the ribs
and wrist.  Josh’s position protected Zeb who caught only a smattering of loose
mortar across the face.  Kate, approaching the scene, ducked just as a brick
flew within inches of her head.  Broken bits of brick and mortar struck her
face.  Her only injury was a tiny cut over her right eye.

The explosion and its immediate effects happened in
slow motion and seemed more like a dream than reality.