~ Dead Man's Reach ~

by

S. E. Schenkel

Barrier tape threaded the tall dry grass like a yellow snake. Old grave and possibly an old murder--not that a hog-tied skeleton left any doubt about foul play. Three days since the gruesome discovery and it was still getting air time. But then mystery always did play well on the evening news.

The phone rang as the reporter identified the remains as those of a prepubescent male. I turned off the TV and grabbed the receiver.

“Tapp here.”

“Acey, it’s me.”

“Where the heck are you, Webb? I thought we were supposed to have a meeting.”

“I need you to do something.”

I got off the sofa. “All right.”

Megan stepped into the room and paused in a stream of sunlight that accented the gray in her dark hair. “Is that Webb?” she mouthed.

I nodded and turned my attention back to Webb’s strange request.

“Can you tell me why?” I asked, aware of a din of voices coming over the receiver. Someone shouted Webb’s name and the phone went dead.

“Is Webb okay?” Megan asked.

“I guess.”

“What do you mean, you guess?”

“Well for starters, he hung up on me.”

“Not Webb.”

“I’m telling you that’s what just happened.”

“Did he say anything about our meeting?” Megan asked.

“No, but he ordered me out on a surveillance job.”

“Ordered you?”

“Like I said, he wasn’t himself. Sounded really upset. Bossy and upset.”

“What’s the surveillance job?” asked Megan.

“I’ll tell you on the way. It might already be too late.”

I went into the kitchen, grabbed the keys for the van and handed them to Megan. “You drive. I’ll get the cameras ready.”

“Drive where?”

“Fourth and Main. And we need to get there as fast as you can.”

We went out the side door and climbed into the large customized van that served as office and RV. Megan settled behind the wheel and I moved through the cab into the small galley. I retrieved the laptop from an overhead cupboard, set it on the table, powered it on and squeezed into the bench seat. I tapped several combinations of keys and activated the cameras hidden under the van’s false roof. Using the touch pad, I guided the cameras along their tracks to the front of the van. Next, I divided the screen so both cameras could concurrently feed back their images. Finally, I switched on the two video recorders connected to the cameras.

The screen showed different halves of Oak Street speeding toward us. I opened the overhead cabinet. The recording lights stared back like little red eyes.

“How far away are we?” I asked, dropping into the passenger’s seat.

“A couple of minutes, if we can get there.”

Ahead, at Fourth and Washington, two policemen were directing traffic onto side streets. Beyond them were several squad cars, a fire truck and an EMS vehicle.

“Turn left here,” I said.

“I presume we’re supposed to film whatever’s going on at Fourth and Main,” Megan said, making the turn.

“That’s what Webb wants.” I pointed ahead. “Make the next right and the next right after that.”

“They won’t let us through,” said Megan.

“Pull into the strip mall on the corner. We should be able to get some good viewing from its parking lot.”

“It looks like someone’s been in an accident,” said Megan.

I pointed to a double slot up ahead. She pulled in and turned off the engine.

“Why are we filming this?” she asked, following me back to the booth.

“I have no idea.”

“You don’t think Webb was involved in the accident, do you?”

“As upset as he was, it’s a possibility.” Using the zoom on camera one, I moved in on the object of everyone’s attention--a white, mid-nineties Chevy pickup with its hood wrapped around a lamppost.

Leaving camera one on the pickup, I used the controls of the second camera to move around. Tapp, the invisible gawker. EMS started to pull away, its lights flashing and sirens on.

“Looks like they got someone out alive,” I said. “Either that, or they’re in a hurry to get coffee. Dead men don’t need the bells and whistles.”

Camera Two picked up a number of people previously hidden by the emergency vehicle. I zoomed in on their faces, and then roamed the street, video taping as many people and license plates as I could.

“I don’t see Webb’s Escort or any other vehicle,” said Megan.

“Me neither.”

“Was Webb calling from the office?”

I shook my head. “Too much background noise for that. Sounded more like a restaurant or maybe a police station.”

Megan crossed the aisle to the small galley. “Acey, do you want some coffee?”

“Wouldn’t mind. Don’t know how long we’re going to be here. Webb said to keep the cameras rolling as long as there was anyone around. “I glanced up at the top of the screen. Camera one was still on the pickup.

I continued to roam around with camera two, caught a cop yawning. The man’s teeth looked like they belonged in the mouth of a canine.

A tow truck arrived. The driver got out, examined the front of the damaged vehicle and scratched his head. Who wouldn’t? The dent in the hood was like a deep trough, and then there was the lamppost sticking out of the center like a leaning electrical tower.

I went back to filming the crowd. The next time I glanced up at the top of the screen, the lamppost lay on the ground and the tow truck was heading away with its load. I quickly adjusted the camera to get a good picture of the rear of the Chevy pickup and its Arizona license plate.

~ * ~

Back home on the porch swing, Megan and I watched Webb pull up the drive in his little white Escort. He parked behind the van and headed toward us, moving in the distracted laborious way of someone with too many years and too much on his mind.

“Did you get there in time?” he asked, taking a seat on the chair facing us. He leaned forward, and in the ruddy light of sunset, his gray hair was like a thin veil against his encroaching baldness.

“In time to record two video tapes,” I said. “Which you’ll see after we get some sort of explanation.”

Megan pinched me. “Do you want something to drink, Webb?” she asked.

“Some water, if you don’t mind.”

She gave him a hug and went into the house.

“I’m going to hold off on my hug,” I said.

Webb smiled and for a few seconds his face lost a little of its gloom.

“Do you know the driver of that pickup?” I asked.

“No.”

“He’s from out of state.”

“How do you know that?” asked Webb.

“’Cause he didn’t have Michigan plates on his vehicle.”

Webb sighed and he shook his head.

“Why the rush job on catching the accident scene on tape?” I asked.

“I’ll tell you when Megan gets back,” he answered.

“Suit yourself.” We were silent for a long moment. I said, “Annie called.”

“Oh, yeah? Did she decide?”

“Yep.” I stared at Webb, eyes wide, smile big.

Webb opened his hands, palms up. “And… Is she coming or not?”

I did a lip-lock-key-toss.

“She is. I can see it in your eyes,” said Webb.

“You know me too well. And yes, she’s coming.”

Webb smiled and did a little dance with his head. “The folks in Pennsylvania are going to miss her. She was probably the best sheriff they ever had. Oh well, their loss is our gain and we can sure use her help with this new case.”

“You’ve decided which case we’re going to take? I thought that was the purpose of the meeting we never had.”

“I’ll explain when Megan gets back.”

“You feeling okay? You look kind of…” I was searching for a word that wouldn’t sting when Megan stepped out and handed Webb a glass of water.

“Fresh from the well,” I said, “judging from the time it took to fetch.”

“Fetch? I’ll give you fetch.” Megan snatched the pen from my shirt pocket and tossed it over the side of the porch.

I turned to see it land in the arms of the yew we’d planted last summer.

“Someone broke into the office,” said Webb.

“Again?” I leaned over the rail and retrieved my pen. “Maybe we ought to close that place and work out of the house--since we do anyway.” He ignored my suggestion, as I knew he would. The office was the only home Webb had known for most of his life. It’s where he roamed with his memories. Where he went when he wanted to commune with the best of his past, and pace away the worst.

“What did they take?” I asked, unable to imagine what anyone would want from furnishings that predated Eisenhower.

“Nothing. It’s what was left that has me worried.”