Quick Fixes: Tales of Repairman Jack (32 page)

“
It’s Daisy! She’s not breathing!”

“
Oh, dear. Quick! Bring her around front and I’ll get my car and take you to the vet.”

Never pass up an opportunity to be a good neighbor.

*

Theodore comforted the sobbing Mr. Garcia on the way home. Daisy’s corpse lay draped across his legs.

“
Was the vet sure she was poisoned? Who would do such an awful thing?”

Mr. Garcia’s tear-stained face contorted into a mask of rage. “I have a pretty goddamn good idea.”

Theodore glanced at Daisy. He’d had nothing against the dog. He had nothing against anyone. Collateral damage.

“
Oh, dear,” he said as he turned onto Fannen Street and saw the police car. “What’s happened here?”

He slowed and watched Mr. Longwell pointing to the browned letters spelling
NIGGER
on his lawn, then down the street toward the Rashid house.

A hate crime was such a terrible thing.

*

He’d intended to spend the rest of the day making notes in his ledger and quietly planning his next moves – a productive way to while away the time before Mr. McCuin and Mr. Rashid came home to the inevitable confrontations with, respectively, Mr. Garcia and Mr. Longwell.

A knock on the door interrupted him. He found Phil the postman glaring at him. He thrust something into Theodore’s hands.

“
What do you think you’re doing, Gordon?”

Theodore looked down and started when he saw the two gay porn magazines he’d left in Mr. Woolbright’s shed. They’d been wrapped in clear plastic and addressed to someone he’d never heard of. The return address was his.

“
I don’t care what you’re into, but you oughta know you can’t mail something like that so it’s out there for everyone to see.”

He turned and strode back to his truck before Theodore could answer. He stared at the magazines. They must have been in his mailbox. He closed the door and dropped them on the dining room table. He stood there thinking.

What was happening now? Had the contest moved to another level, with his nemesis switching from defense to offense?

He went to the window where he saw Phil, the postman, across the street talking to Mrs. Woolbright. Theodore saw him pointing his way.

Perhaps it was indeed time to abort. He’d make that decision tonight after seeing how things went with the McCuin-Garcia and Longwell-Rashid bouts.

*

Shortly after six, Theodore positioned a chair at his front window, hoping for some fireworks. He was about to seat himself when he heard a sound. He whirled and saw a man standing behind him, but had only a glimpse before a fist smashed into his gut. He doubled over and turned away. Two more blows followed, one to each kidney, driving him to his knees and then onto his side, writhing in agony.

“
That was for the dog,” said a voice.

When Theodore’s pain-blurred vision cleared, he saw a man sitting in a chair, looking down at him. He was average height, average build, average features, with brown hair and eyes. Theodore thought he was the most nondescript man he had ever seen.

A silenced, small-caliber pistol rested on his thigh, pointed in Theodore’s direction.

“
I’m really pissed about the dog,” he said in a flat tone. “That was the last straw. I’m seriously thinking of kneecapping you for that.”

Kneecapping? A vision of that almost made him forget the agony in his kidneys.

“
No, wait. Who are you? Do I know you? Why are you doing this?”

“
You don’t know me, and I’m here because someone’s paying me to be.”

“
Paying? Who–?”

“
Remember Nelson Pershall, former resident of Veni Woods, New Jersey?”

Mr. Pershall . . . was that what this was about?

“
I’ve never heard of Veni Woods. I don’t even like New Jersey.”

“
You did a good job of pretending to when you were living there and calling yourself Clay Evanson.”

How did he know all this?

“
Ridiculous!”

Slowly, painfully, he started to push himself off the floor but the intruder kicked him back down.

“
I prefer you on your belly. Anyway, Nelson Pershall hung himself after being caught in a kiddie-porn sting. His computer was loaded with graphic photos.”

“
If you’re looking for sympathy for a pedophile, you’re in the wrong house.”

“
His daughter swears he wasn’t. He lived alone and ran a website that published poetry by codgers like himself.”

“
What does a daughter know about a parent’s hidden life?

“
That’s what I thought at first. But she said he was something of a techie and had set up a wi-fi network in his house. Someone could have been using his computer without him knowing it. Sound familiar?”

Theodore said nothing. That was exactly what had happened. He’d even triggered the police sting through Mr. Pershall’s computer. But he certainly wasn’t admitting it to this thug.

“
She said she suspected a man named Clay Evanson. Told me her father’s neighborhood had been friendly and peaceful until shortly after this clown arrived. Before he moved on, two people were dead – her father and a woman killed by her husband for cheating – a house had burned to the ground, one man had been arrested for assaulting his next-door neighbor, and another arrested for a hate crime. Are we seeing a pattern here?”

Theodore’s felt ice sludging through his gut.

“
I haven’t the faintest idea what this has to do with me. I’ve never heard of this Clay Evanson. And this woman is obviously paranoid.”

“
Yeah, that’s pretty much what I thought, but she wanted me to fix it and she had the fee. Since I had the time, I took the job. Funny thing was, the day I started, you moved out. So I followed you here. And all of a sudden you’re Theodore Gordon. I decided to stick around.” He shook his head. “Whoever you really are, you’re one sick bastard.”

“
You’re mistaken, I tell you. I–”

“
Shut up.” He cocked his head. “Listen. Sounds like your neighbors. Let’s take a look.”

He grabbed Theodore by the back of his neck and hauled him into the chair he’d set up by the window. He was stronger than he looked. Theodore felt the muzzle of the pistol press against the base of his neck.

“
Ever wonder what it’s like being a quadriplegic? Do anything stupid and you’ll find out.”

Through the picture window he saw Mr. Robinson between Mr. Rashid and Mr. Longwell. The side window was open so he could hear their angry words. Normally it would be music to his ears. Mr. Fabrini and Mr. Woolbright came out of their houses to try to calm things down. Mr. McCuin joined them.

Suddenly, seemingly from nowhere, Mr. Garcia was racing across the street. He took Mr. McCuin down with a flying tackle. It took three men to pull him off.

“
Hold it, guys,” Mr. Robinson shouted. “Hold it for just one goddamn minute!” When the men calmed, he said, “Look at us. We were never like this. What’s going on here?”

“
I can tell you what’s going on,” Mr. Longwell said, pointing a finger at Mr. Rashid. “He calls me a thief and writes ‘nigger’ on my lawn!”

Mr. Robinson said, “Hold it! Hold it! Do you know what kind of abuse Munaf gets? He gets called a ‘towel head’ or a ‘terrorist’ or – you’ll like this one, Cletus – a ‘sand nigger.’ You really think he’s gonna write ‘nigger’ on you lawn? And by the way, I heard the story about Cletus’s parole and asked a friend in the DA’s office to do a little checking. The call was a lie.”

“
Who’d do something like that?”

“
Look around,” Mr. Robinson said. “Who’s not here?”

Theodore held his breath as all heads swiveled his way.

“
All this started after Gordon moved in. And I’m pretty damn sure he drained my crankcase.”

“
And that homo classified I got signed up for,” Mr. Woolbright said. “Phil told Jean he had gay porn in his mailbox today.”

“
But why?” Mr. Garcia said.

“
Why don’t we go ask him?”

The muzzle pressed harder against his spine.

“
That’s what
I
want to know. Why? That ledger of yours – looks like you’re writing reports. Who are they going to?”

He had the ledger! How–?

How didn’t matter. Everything was falling apart. And he was asking the question Theodore never would answer. Never.

“
I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The muzzle pressed deeper into his flesh, then was removed.

“
If we had time, you’d tell. But things are moving faster than I’d planned. Robinson is sharp, and you’re about to have some very angry people on your doorstep.”

“
I’ll talk to them, reason with them.”

“
No amount of talk will calm them after they see what’s in your garage.”

“
My garage?”

“
Yeah. I raised the door halfway. Front and center is Rashid’s wrench set. But there’s also an empty can of Speed Weed, some strychnine-containing rat poison, and Robinson’s drain plug along with pink panties and photos of his daughter.”

Theodore felt as if his bones were dissolving.

“
What do you think Robinson is going do when he sees all that?” the intruder continued. “Oh, and I called the vet. I said I was from poison control and he told me it looked like the Garcia dog died from strychnine. So I called Garcia – again as poison control – and told him to make sure he didn’t have any strychnine-containing pest control around. How do you think he’ll react when he sees that box of rat poison?”

Theodore closed his eyes and trembled.

“
You’re busted, pal. I’d love to have more time with you, but I don’t want to be here when company comes calling. Have a nice day.”

Rising on wobbly legs, Theodore turned and faced him. He found his voice. “You’d make a good distributor.”

“
Is that your game?”

Game? It wasn’t a game. It was serious business.

“
Who would I be working for?”

Theodore shook his head.

A gloved hand shot out and smashed against his jaw, rocking his head back and sending him to the floor.

“
Just in case you thought I’d forgotten about the dog.”

Theodore lay there, groaning. After a moment he heard the back door open and close. And then he heard the voices in his front yard.

“
What if he’s not home?”

“
He’s always home – haven’t you noticed?”

“
Maybe he – hey! That’s my wrench set! What’s it doing–?”

The voices moved toward the garage.

“
Speed Weed! That kills grass doesn’t?”

“
And geraniums too.”

“
What’s this? Pictures of Chelsea and – oh shit!”

“
Rat poison! The motherfucker!”

An angry babble rose as someone began pounding on the door.

Theodore struggled to his feet and stumbled upstairs.

Exposed . . . bad enough, but losing the ledger was the final humiliation

He was finished. Nothing to do now but bow out and avoid further embarrassment.

He jumped at the sound of smashing glass. Something had crashed through the front window.

His shaking fingers removed the cyanide capsule from its container. He put it between his teeth and bit hard.

Time to move.

introduction to “Piney Power”

In mid-2008 I agreed to donate a short young-adult thriller to another ITW-sponsored anthology. Once again, I’d be limited to 5k words. At the time I was deep into the young-adult Repairman Jack novels I’d contracted to write and had introduced some piney kids into the trilogy. (If you’re not familiar with what a piney is, it’s explained in the story.) I thought maybe I’d take them out for a spin in their own story (with young Jack along, of course) and see what they could do.

Piney Power

1

Old Man Foster had the signs posted all over his land.

NO FISHING

NO HUNTING

NO TRAPPING

NO TRESPASSING

No kidding. And no big deal.

Jack never paid them much attention. He figured since he wasn’t involved in the first three, he deserved a pass on the last. No, what caught Jack’s eye was the bright red object tacked to the bark just below the sign.

“
Hey, check it out,” he said, hitting the brakes. His tires skidded in the sandy soil as his BMX came to a stop. “Who’d put a reflector way out here?”

Weezy stopped her bike beside his. “Doesn’t make sense.”

Her birth certificate said “Louise” but no one had called her that since she turned two. She was older than Jack – hit fifteen last week, while Jack still had a few months to go. As usual, she was all in black – sneaks, jeans, Bauhaus T-shirt. She’d wound her dark hair into two braids today, giving her a Wednesday Addams look.