Scat (12 page)

"What the heck?" Drake McBride exclaimed.

"It was all I had in the truck, " Jimmy Lee Bayliss said. That's why I asked you to bring some extra clothes."

Drake McBride shrugged. "Well, I forgot. " Addressing the bubble-wrapped man, he said, "What's your name, son?"

"Melton."

"How long you been with us?"

"Three weeks is all, " Melton said.

"So you're not on full benefits yet, " Drake McBride said. "But don't you worry, we'll make sure all your doctor bills are covered at least sixty percent. Did they hurt you?"

"Not really. But some bull ants chewed up my butt cheeks pretty fierce."

Jimmy Lee Bayliss said, "Go on and tell Mr. McBride what happened. He's a busy man."

Melton didn't seem especially impressed that he was speaking to the president of the company. He looked like he wished he'd never heard of the Red Diamond Energy Corporation.

"I was out here stackin' some pipe, " he said, "when they jumped me from behind. Next thing I know, I'm glued to a cypress tree and I can't pull free."

"In your birthday suit, " Drake McBride said.

"Yeah, they stole my clothes."

"The pipes, too, " said Jimmy Lee Bayliss, who'd already eaten an entire roll of Tums since breakfast. He longed to be back in Texas, enjoying the retired life.

On his fingers, Drake McBride began ticking off the crimes committed against poor Melton. "So there's assault, grand theft, indecent whatever-how many of 'em were there, son?"

"I dunno."

"Well, how many'd you see?"

"One, " Melton said, "but they's had to be more. Ain't no way just one guy could take me."

Jimmy Lee Bayliss didn't say so, but he believed it was entirely possible for one physically fit man to have overpowered the scrawny, chain-smoking Melton.

Drake McBride pulled Jimmy Lee Bayliss aside. "Obviously, we can't tell the police this happened in Section 22, so we're gonna tell 'em it was Section 21, where we're legal. I want you to make sure this young fella gets his story straight."

"Lying to the cops is too risky, " Jimmy Lee Bayliss warned his boss, "especially if we rely on Melton. Kid's got the IQ of a baked potato. He's liable to say anything."

Drake McBride let out an aggravated sigh. "We're not s'posed to set foot in Section 22, much less be diggin' a pit and layin' pipe. What other choice do we have, Jimmy, but to lie?"

"That's easy: Don't call the cops. " Jimmy Lee Bayliss was trying to conceal his annoyance. From the start he'd been nervous about the scam, even though Drake McBride had promised that it would make both of them rich beyond their wildest dreams. "Let me handle this, " Jimmy Lee Bayliss told his boss.

"But we got, like, bandits on the loose, " Drake McBride said. "Outlaws, pirates, whatever."

"You seriously think the cops will come chasing after pipe thieves way out here in the middle of nowhere? They got bigger fish to fry."

"Probably just dope addicts, " Drake McBride muttered, "Meatheads. Where they gonna sell two tons of pipe?"

They walked back to the truck, where Melton was puffing on a dead cigarette butt. "I'm sweatin' to death in this stuff, " he complained, and began to strip off the bubble wrap.

"Whoa there!" Drake McBride made a time-out sign with his hands. "No offense, son, but I'm not in the mood to deal with a buck-nekked man. Keep your plastic jammies on."

Jimmy Lee Bayliss told Melton that he would take him to Wal-Mart on the way into town. "I'll buy you some new clothes, and a hot lunch, too."

"Thanks, man. What about the overtime?"

Jimmy Lee Bayliss looked at Drake McBride, who made a sour face.

"Hey, I spent all night out here, " Melton said, "them red ants takin' chunks from my hide. Are you sayin' I wasn't on the company clock?" He held up his arms so that the president of Red Diamond Energy could see the gummy red abrasions left by the hardened glue, which Jimmy Lee Bayliss had pried with a screwdriver from the bark of the tree.

"I think you'll live, " Drake McBride remarked.

Jimmy Lee Bayliss said, "Tell us about the man who attacked you."

Melton admitted that he hadn't gotten a clear look at the guy. "He had a ski cap pulled down to his eyes, so I couldn't really see his face all that great."

"Was he young or old?"

"I couldn't say, " Melton replied. "But he was real strong-and real crazy."

Drake McBride frowned. "Dope fiend. What'd I tell ya?"

"No, man, he wasn't high or nuthin'. Just whacked-out mean, " Melton said. "When he pasted me to that damn tree, he said I was bear bait. That's what he called me. Real nice, huh?"

Jimmy Lee Bayliss asked, "Did he have a weapon?"

"I dunno. Probably."

Meaning the answer was no, thought Jimmy Lee Bayliss. Melton was too embarrassed to admit that he'd been captured by-and lost a load of expensive pipes to-an unarmed intruder.

"Listen to me, son, " Drake McBride said. "We're not gonna call the cops, okay? Red Diamond will deal with this situation, I promise. We'll catch this creep and make sure he doesn't do it to anybody else."

Melton said, "Sooner the better."

"Meantime, you gotta promise to zip your lip, okay? You can't tell anybody what happened out here, " Drake McBride said, "not even your wife and kids."

"All I got is a girlfriend."

"Not her, either, " Jimmy Lee Bayliss interjected firmly. Don't mention this to a living soul. Understand?"

"Gotcha. " Melton was idly popping the bubbles in his see-through plastic coat. "Hey, when we go by the Wal-Mart, can you buy me some cigarettes? That wacko got my last pack when he swiped my pants."

"Sure, " Jimmy Lee Bayliss said.

"One more thing-I ain't never been up in a helicopter before.... "

Drake McBride's expression turned stony. "Sorry, pardner."

"Just a quick spin? Aw, come on."

"You can't get on a chopper if you're not wearin' clothes. Strict FAA rules."

"What? You're kiddin' me, " Melton said. "Yeah, tough break. "

Then the president of Red Diamond Energy Corporation turned on one boot heel and signaled for his pilot to fire up the engines.

Duane Scrod Sr. was attacking a twenty-ounce sirloin steak, cooked rare. Duane Scrod Jr. contemplated a large, steaming plate of linguini. Millicent Winship picked at a fresh shrimp cocktail; at her age, she had no patience for chitchat.

"D. J., how are your grades at Truman this term?" she asked her grandson.

"Not so great, " he said, "but I aim to do better."

"Do you have any homework tonight?"

"No school tomorrow-it's a teacher work day."

"Sounds like a good opportunity to catch up with some of your studies, " Mrs. Winship said.

"Yes, ma'am. I brought my books home."

"I must say, you look very serious and handsome." Embarrassed, Duane Jr. shoveled pasta into his blushing cheeks.

Mrs. Winship turned to Duane Sr. "It's quite a difference. I'm impressed."

"Don't look at me, Millie. It was all D. J., " he said, slurping a cup of coffee. "He came back from that camping trip and, I swear, it's like there's a stranger in the house. Picks up his dirty clothes, brushes his teeth twice a day, stays up late doin' his homework. It's like he turned into a grown-up overnight. "

"Maybe you should take a lesson. " Mrs. Winship wore a frosty smile.

"Aw, lay off, " the boy's father said.

They were sitting at an outside table overlooking a marina that was filled with yachts and sailboats. The restaurant was called the Silver Dolphin and the food was excellent, though expensive. Mrs. Winship was paying the tab, as usual, and happy to do it. She couldn't get over the promising change in her grandson.

Duane Sr. was another matter. He showed absolutely no interest in improving himself, or his life. Earlier, Mrs. Winship had caught him stashing packets of oyster crackers in his pockets to take home to his obnoxious pet bird.

She said, "Tell me, D. J., can you see yourself in college someday?"

"Yes, ma'am. It's possible, " Duane Jr. replied.

"I'm so pleased to hear that. Have you given any thought to what subject you might like to study, " Mrs. Winship said, "on the path to a career?"

Chewing loudly, Duane Sr. interjected, "It's too early for all that. Cut the boy some slack, Millie...."

"Environmental science, " said Duane Scrod Jr.

"Really?" His grandmother beamed and looked cuttingly at Duane Sr., whose jaw hung open.

"I really like the outdoors. It's quiet and pretty, " Duane Jr. said. "Plus I'm into animals and fishin' and stuff."

"Ever since you were little, you were an explorer. And fearless, too, " Mrs. Winship said fondly.

Duane Sr. began jabbing at his molars with a toothpick, trying to liberate a string of meat. "I'm sorry, but I just don't see Junior as a 'scientist. ' Heck, he's flunkin' biology for the second or third time."

"Second, " Duane Jr. said crossly.

Mrs. Winship glowered at Duane Scrod Sr. "You listen to me, and listen well. This boy can be whatever he chooses to be, once he finds the right role model."

"Ouch, " Duane Sr. said, responding not to the insult but rather to a small hole that he'd punctured in his gums.

Duane Jr. put down his fork. "If they wipe out the Everglades and all, people like me won't have anywhere to go except for big cities. And I hate big cities."

Mrs. Winship thoughtfully appraised her grandson. "Tell me about your camping trip, " she said.

He cleared his throat. "Caught some bass. Saw an otter with two pups, and about a jillion gators, as usual. " He started eating again.

"Were you there all alone?"

"Pretty much. " Duane Jr. didn't look up from his plate. "Your dad told me about the fire. The headmaster called me as well."

"What fire?"

"Out at the swamp," Duane Sr. cut in. "Now don't act like you never heard about it."

The boy spun some linguini onto his fork. "Oh, yeah.
That
fire."

Mrs. Winship dabbed her mouth with her napkin, which she then refolded neatly on her lap. "D. J., I'm seventy-seven years old," she said, "which doesn't make me a dinosaur, but I'm not so young anymore, either. Time isn't something I can afford to waste, do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"So just tell me if you set that fire. Yes or no?"

"No, ma'am."

"Yet the police think you did it. Why is that?"

Again Duane Sr. spoke up. "They can't prove a flippin' thing. Otherwise the boy'd be locked up in juvie hall right now."

Mrs. Winship shot Duane Sr. a peeved look. Gently she asked her grandson, "Did you have a chance to give your story to the authorities?"

"Yes, ma'am. I straight-up told 'em I didn't do it, " Duane Jr. said.

"Those days are over, right?"

"Yes, ma'am. No more fires."

"It's not something that a future environmental scientist should do, burning a swamp."

"No, ma'am."

His grandmother said, "There was a field trip from Truman out there that morning. Somebody could've been hurt badly, D. J., or even killed."

Duane Jr. looked her straight in the eye. "It wasn't me, Gram. I swear."

"All right. I believe you."

"Thank goodness that's settled, " said Duane Sr., scanning the restaurant impatiently. "Where did our waiter disappear to? I can't wait to have a peek at that dessert tray."

It was only her love for Duane Jr. that prevented Mrs. Winship from smacking his father on the top of his hopelessly thick head.

To the boy she said, "Your mother told me she wrote you.

He seemed surprised. "I didn't get a letter."

"Nothing?"

"Nope."

"Me neither, " Duane Sr. piped.

Mrs. Winship was ashamed to think that her daughter could be so selfish and neglectful. "I'm sorry, D. J. I'll speak with her. "

"It's not your fault, Gram."

"How about some dessert?"

"No thanks."

"Well, I saved plenty of room," Duane Sr. announced heartily, patting his stomach.

Millicent Winship eyed him as if he were a cockroach on a wedding cake. "We've all had enough, " she said sharply, and called for the check.

Before Marta's mother dropped them off at the mall, she asked, "What's the name of the movie?"

Marta faked a cough and turned to Nick, who got the hint.

"It's Spider-Man VII, " he said to Mrs. Gonzalez.
"Revenge of the Web Slinger. "
He had no idea if there was such a film- he'd lost count of all the Spider-Man sequels.

"PG?"

"Yeah, Mom, it's PG, " Marta said.

"I'll see you back here at ten-thirty sharp. Don't be late. "

"Bye, Mom, " Marta said impatiently.

"Have you got enough money?"

"Goodbye, Mom!"

Lying about the movie made Nick and Marta feel sneaky and low, but there had seemed to be no other choice-their Parents never would have allowed them to spy on Mrs. Starch's house, especially after dark.

"According to MapQuest, it's only 2. 4 miles, " Nick said, studying the map that he'd printed out. He'd gotten Mrs. Starch's address from Libby, who'd found a faculty directory in her father's den after the detective had visited Dr. Dressler's office.

Marta said, "I can't believe I forgot a flashlight."

Nick had brought one in a pocket of his jacket. "Let's go, " he said, and they headed off across the vast parking lot, toward the road.

Before long, the bright lights of the mall were behind them. Sticking closely to the MapQuest directions, they walked five blocks to Mockingbird Court, then seven more blocks to Grackle Drive. When they reached Mrs. Starch's street, Nick said, "We go west here until the road ends."

Marta laughed. "No way! The old buzzard actually lives on Buzzard Boulevard-how perfect is that?"

"Number 777, " Nick said. "The very last house."

"Naturally."

The streetlights ended when the pavement ran out. As Nick and Marta continued down the dirt road, the night deepened. Nick took out his flashlight.

"Doesn't anybody besides her live out here?" Marta said nervously.

They walked past a couple of houses that were under construction, and another that was roofless and abandoned, probably a hurricane casualty. The woods hummed with crickets and cicadas, and rustled with other, heavier sounds that might have been rabbits or raccoons. Whenever Nick heard something, he aimed the light into the woods to see what it was, but the critters always stopped moving, remaining invisible among the pines and the scrub.