Red Dog (24 page)

A Slim & Anci Ruckus

“C
OME AGAIN
?”

“Chickens, Slim. You know? Like yardbirds.”

“I know what chickens are, Foghat. I thought I'd misheard you is all.”

We were at Indian Vale. My daughter, Anci, was reading a book for school and sipping one of those orange sodas. Her favorites. The chicken man, and prospective client, was my old work buddy Foghat. He didn't have an orange soda. He wasn't allowed. I was barely allowed, and I paid the bills and bought the sodas. I tell you, it was a raw deal. Other than that, it was a fine fall evening. The cool breeze sighed through the grasses and the leaves of the shingle oaks. The skies were clear and freckled with stars, and the moon was out and smiling.

Foghat wasn't smiling. He was about my age, early forties, with a long face and the disposition of a nervous house cat. He said, “All kinds of chickens, too. Got into the exotic game couple years back. Belgian d'Uccle, Araucana, Welsummer, Cochin, salmon Faverolle, cuckoo Marans, modern BB red game. You name it. Even got me some of those white Sultans brand-new. Amazing birds.”

“What do you do with them all?”

“Well, they're pets, mostly. I don't know. I favor them,” he said. “Course, I also sell the eggs. Folks like that these days. Exotic bird eggs. They're more flavorful than store-bought and got better nutrition.”

Anci looked up from her book. She said, “You don't say?”

“Oh, yeah. There's science about it and everything.”

Anci looked back at her book. She said, “Well, as long as there's science.”

I said, “Okay. So you got yourself some fancy chickens. Pets and egg-layers both. What's any of it have to do with me?”

Foghat frowned a little more. Back when we'd worked together, his kip was an on-site safety inspector, so frowning was basically his job. It showed, too, I tell you what. His frowns were professional frowns. They spanked your frowns on the hiney and sent them to bed early.

He scratched his nose with one of his bony fingers. He said, “I was kind of hoping you'd get them back for me.”

“You lost your chickens?”

“Manner of speaking.” His throat cleared a couple times. Anci smiled a little behind her book. She knew and I knew what this was. Sometimes clients hold back the real story of a case on you. It's a little dance they do. You let them dance, because you want their wallet and the dance is part of the deal, but you always know what it is. They'll give you the sugar first, so you get to hear a little about the exciting world of exotic chickens and whatnot, and then you finally get down to the bad stuff. That's what we were doing here now with Foghat.

Finally, he said, “Another manner of speaking, they were taken from me.”

“Taken? Taken by who?”

Anci said, “Whom.”

“Taken by whom?” I corrected. We nodded at each other. I looked at Foghat again. “Some kind of outlaw chicken enthusiast?”

Foghat said, “No, no kind of chicken outlaw, Slim. What happened was, a couple years back, well, I got divorced again. Not another wife, understand. I mean from the same one. Me and Cheryl been hitched and unhitched three times now.”

“Sounds a little rocky.”

He shrugged. “Can be. Some good times mixed in, too, though, so you want to maybe give it another go. I don't know. Anyway, this time she says we're bust, for keeps. I think maybe at first I didn't believe her, but
then there was another fella. So that was that. We were bust. I guess I took it kinda hard.”

“Easy to do.”

“Or not so easy,” he said. “I got to where I was slacking at work. Just couldn't focus. Missed time I couldn't afford missing and ended up getting fired by the old man. Fell behind on my bills some. You know how it is. Eventually, I reached out to some folks for a little help. You know, financial.”

“Family?”

Foghat said, “No. Ain't got no family to speak of. What I mean is loan people. Like, private loan people.”

“Oh, hell.”

“I know. But I was fixing to lose my house, and I guess I got desperate. Anyway, I went to a guy and ended up making a deal with the devil. You remember when we were up to that PelCo mine together?”

“Sure.”

“You recall a guy back then went by the name of Bandit?”

I said, “Big Bandit or Little Bandit?”

“Little Bandit.”

“Oh, hell,” I said again.

Anci said, “You'd be happier it was Big Bandit?”

I nodded. “Little Bandit is bigger than Big Bandit. A lot bigger. They came from different mines, and at the one Little Bandit was littler than the other Bandit they had, I guess. That other Big Bandit must have been a damn mountain. Anyway, eventually Little Bandit and
Big Bandit ended up working the same boodle, but by that time their names were set in stone, even if they didn't make sense anymore.”

Anci shook her head and said, “You guys and those damn nicknames. Need a computer to keep track of it all.”

Foghat said, “Big Bandit ain't never let that go, either. He's still as mad as a wet hen over it, you'll pardon the expression.”

“Well, I can see that,” I said. “I mean, what if there were another Slim?”

“Two times the headaches, for starters,” Anci said.

Foghat pressed on. “Anyway, that's what happened. I got in with Little Bandit and, of course, right away I fell behind. Way these guys got it rigged, you almost can't help but fall behind.”

“That's kind of what it's all about.”

“Hell, I know. Know it now, anyway. Know it now all personal,” he said. “One night, few weeks into this thing, Little Bandit and some boys showed up at my place. Things got a little rough. No lasting scars or anything, but it weren't a dance at the VFW, I tell you that. In the end, they used me to mop my kitchen floor and then they run off with my birds. I could hardly believe it. But that's what they done. Said I'd get them back soon as I paid.”

“Damnation, Foghat. I hate it for you. I do. I hate it for your birds. But I can't really get involved between you and Little Bandit, you owe him legitimate money.”

“That's the thing though, Slim. I don't owe him. Not anymore. I paid him. Every penny plus interest. Took me a little while and hurt like hell, but I did it. Sold my truck. Sold off a little piece of land I'd been holding back, Dad's old hunting spot up there to Olney. Cleared the ledger. But no chickens were returned to me. Little Bandit says he's keeping them. Some kind of lesson, he says. Warning to others. Says he might . . .” He looked away suddenly at the wall. His throat got thick. “Says he might butcher them, fry 'em up in a skillet. Little butter. Tarragon. Maybe a squeeze of lemon juice.”

“That's pretty specific.”

“You should have seen him,” Foghat said. “He enjoyed it. Watching me twist like that. Suffer. Plus, way I hear he really does know his way around a kitchen.”

“Kinda unusual for a thug.”

Foghat said, “Slim, I'm begging you. Maybe just run out there to his place, have a word. Way I hear tell, you got a knack for this kind of thing.”

“Finding lost chickens?”

“Helping folks in need. Getting things done need doing.”

Anci hopped down from the couch and closed her book with a thump. She had that look about her makes me want to climb under a bed.

She said, “He'll do it.”

Foghat and I said, “He will?”

“We will, I mean. I don't like bullies and I don't like assholes, and this Bandit . . .”

I said, “Little Bandit.”

Foghat said, “Big Bandit is just as sweet a little old thing as you'll ever meet.”

Anci said, “I don't like bullies, and I don't like assholes or bad men run off with people's pets. And this Little Bandit sounds like all three.”

Foghat smiled at her. I think there was a tear in his eye. I admit, I was kinda proud, too. It was quite a speech and this was quite a kid. Foghat seized my hand and shook it.

“Thank you. Thank you both.”

“All respect to your current situation, though, we can't do it for free.” I said.

Foghat showed us his frown. It was a frown to beat all frowns. He looked at the floor some. He said something I didn't quite catch.

“Well, I missed that,” I said.

Anci said, “He said he thought he might pay us in eggs.”

L
ITTLE
B
ANDIT LIVED IN THE SPRAWLING WOODLANDS
south of the Vale, off Hicks Branch near Goose Creek and the Kaskaskia Experimental Forest. You might imagine, there's not much in the way of human development out that way. Few small farms. A rural school or two and a white water tower peeking over the tree line. If nothing else, it makes for a pretty drive. We were in the truck. Lovely day like that, we'd ordinarily
have taken my bike, but there were chickens to rescue maybe, and I didn't have that many little helmets at my disposal.

Along the way, Anci turned to me and said, “So . . . Luke Skywalker.”

“What?”

“I said Luke Skywalker.”

“I heard you,” I said.

“Then why did you say what?”

I said, “Why are you asking about Luke Skywalker?”

“On account of I watched
Star Wars
for the first time the other day, and now I want to discuss it.”

“I was kinda hoping we'd watch that together one day.”

“Well, you've been pretty busy lately, what with playing consulting detective and all, and I just felt it was time.”

“Oh.”

“So this galaxy he's in.”

“Uh-huh?”

“You'd say it's pretty big?”

I said, “I don't know. I guess that's the idea. It is a
galaxy
.”

She nodded. “That's what I think, too. Big old galaxy with more planets than you can shake a ray gun at . . .”

“Blaster.”

Anci ignored me. “Shake a ray gun at, and every kind of alien race you can think of. And yet, somehow, the bad guy is his dad?”

“That's how it goes, yeah.”

“And the princess . . . the one he kisses . . . she's his sister?”

I said, “You said you watched
Star Wars
. Those other things happen in the other movies. The sister thing and the dad thing.”

“I know,” she said. “I watched the one, looked the others up on Wikipedia.”

“That's cheating.”

“How you figure?”

“Reading ahead of the next movie. It's cheating.”

She said, “So someone just wrote it all up online as a cheat? That what you're saying?”

“Well . . .”

“You know what? I was reading about World War Two for history class the other night. Found out who won and everything. I reckon I might get expelled now, not having gone back to fight the Hitlers myself.”

I sighed. There was some things you'd just never get across to the younger set.

I said, “Okay, fine. It's not cheating. It's a personal life choice I've made when it comes to movies. So what about Luke and Vader and Leia?”

“Kind of a coincidence, don't you think?” she said. “Them all being in one place at one time, big old galaxy like that? I guess we're just lucky Chewbacca didn't turn out to be the long-lost family dog.”

“I think it's the Force brought them together, like with magic.”

“You mean the midi-chlorians.”

“And
that's
in the dang prequels. How much Wikipedia did you do?”

“I did it all.” She was pleased with herself. She looked out the window, all satisfied. “I am now done with the
Star Wars
.”

“No, you're not,” I said. I was smarting and determined to be cussed about it. “Okay, not the Force or midi-chlorians or whatever, then. How about fate? That's a thing happens in stories. Fate brought them together.”

“Like us and the chickens.”

“No, not like that.”

“More like it was shoddy screenwriting.”

I was grumpy. Damn kids and their damn
Hunger Games
and whatever. I said, “You know, that movie was a big deal when I was a boy. People lined up around the block to see it. I lined up around the block, too. Few times, in fact. Spent eight hours in the blazing heat one summer to see the rerelease and didn't even get a ticket.”

“Waited long enough, you coulda just watched it at home on your couch.”

“Well, we didn't have that then. Home movies, I mean. We had couches. And where the heck did you get a copy, anyway? We don't own one.”

“Found one on the Internet,” she said.

“Found one or swiped one?”

She looked at me. I looked at her. She leaned for
ward and turned on the radio and that was the last we talked about the
Star Wars
for a while.

F
INALLY, WE ARRIVED AT
L
ITTLE
B
ANDIT'S PLACE.
W
AY
it was, you had to leave the main road and trace a gravel path up a gentle slope and into the woods where the green ash were as big as hot-air balloons and the reed grass had put on its golden spikelets and now looked like nothing so much as a gathering of foreign kings. There weren't any chickens in evidence.

I stopped the truck and got out and said, “Wait here with your phone, will you? I don't think Little Bandit will want any trouble over this thing, but there's no reason for you to go up there just yet.”

Anci seemed skeptical. Truth was, I was skeptical, too. Wanting trouble and getting trouble were two different things. She knew it and I knew it. But finally she nodded and said, “Fair enough. Try not to get your thumb pecked, though. Chickens can be pretty mean, you get in their way.”

“Okay.”

“And you'll get in their way.”

“Unkind.”

“And try not to get into a fight.”