Installment #20
Chapters 34 & 35
34
“He’s a queer,” rat-faced Lyle said.
Sheriff Cady tried to ignore the two old men sitting at the table near the window. From his position next to a rack of nuts and sunflower seeds near the front of Knocky’s convenience store, Sheriff Cady had a clear view of Walt’s motel room.
He’d parked his squad car out behind the store so Walt wouldn’t notice it when he finally got up and around. No one had gone in or out of the motel room all morning, as far as Sheriff Cady could tell. It could be someone had slipped by while the sheriff’s attention had been diverted by the conversation around him. But Sheriff Cady doubted it.
“How can he be a queer?” round-head George said. “He come here looking for a woman. His lady friend. By definition, a queer don’t go looking for a woman and a queer don’t have lady friends. Not like her. You always do that. Anybody you don’t like, you call them a queer, whether they are or they aren’t.”
“I do not. Like who?”
“Well…Rock Hudson.”
“He was a queer!” Lyle said. “Was I wrong?”
“Officially, yes. He never admitted to it. His estate has never come right out and said it. Same for Liberace.”
“So you’re saying both of them weren’t fruits?”
“I’m saying a man gets to say for himself. You can’t just go around saying something like that. All a man has got is his reputation.”
“Both of them’s queer. Look, do they have a sheepskin from the International Queers School? No. But was I wrong? Was? I? Wrong?”
“So why’s do you say this young fella a queer? He was looking for a woman.”
“Sure, a dead woman—”
“—But he didn’t know—”
“—George, shouldn’t you two be down to the co-op today?” Sheriff Cady said.
The round-headed old man looked up at the sheriff.
“Wednesday’s is Knocky’s. Co-op’s Mondays and Fridays,” he said.
“What are you watching him for, Sheriff?” Lyle said. “Queer stuff?”
“Enough with the queer crap, Lyle, “the young man working behind the counter said. He was leafing through a skin magazine and running a finger over his wispy mustache. The kid went on.
“I don’t know if he’s a queer or not,” he said. “I never seen one up close. Never. But I do know the guy’s a big pussy. He pulled up next to me at the light the other morning. Thought he was all tough and shit. Tried to stare me down. I looked him right in the eye. Motherfucker pussied out, looked away. I peeled out and he just sat there like a little bitch.”
“You eat with that mouth Del Ray?” Sheriff Cady said. “I better not catch you hot-rodding around town or I’ll ticket your butt. One more, you’re hoofing it.”
“Man, you can’t tell me how to talk. It’s a free country. This is where I work. I’m assistant manager. I’m the boss in here.”
“Kid thinks he’s the law inside the store,” Lyle said, grinning. “The law don’t end at the door, boy.”
“You two buzzards shut the hell up before I toss you out on your asses.”
“Watch your mouth, Del Ray,” Sheriff Cady said. He turned his attention back to Walt’s motel room.
“Shit.
Everybody looked up, saw Walt crossing the road and coming toward Knocky’s.
“Look how he walks, the queer,” Lyle said, his rat face sneering.
“Del Ray, the john,” Sheriff Cady said. “Give me the key.”
“What if he needs to take a leak?” George said.
Sheriff Cady looked around the store.
“I’ll be in the cooler. Any of you let on I’m in here….”
Sheriff Cady didn’t finish. No time and no need.
He opened the door to the L-shaped refrigerator section that ran along two walls of Knocky’s. The cold felt good. The sheriff parked himself on a stack of crates and watched through the racks of milk jugs and bottles of soda and water as Walt entered the store.
He watched as Walt nodded to Del Ray then did a slight double-take. Sheriff Cady watched as Walt turned to George and Lyle. The sheriff thought he saw another look of recognition flash across Walt’s face.
Then Walt turned back to Del Ray, asking him something the sheriff couldn’t hear. The refrigeration system’s compressor was a constant hum and the airtight doors sealed out any noise from the store. The sheriff saw Del Ray point in his direction.
“You little sunuva…,” Sheriff Cady said.
He held his breath. When Walt opened the glass door to pick up a pint of milk, noise and air rushed into the refrigerator. Sheriff heard Lyle talking loudly to George.
“Saw Sheriff Cady heading out west of town this morning.”
Sheriff Cady held still as Walt checked the date on the pint before replacing it on the shelf. He stuck his arm deeper into the refrigerator, reaching for a fresher pint way in the back.
Walt’s hand groped about a foot from Sheriff Cady’s nose until it snagged a pint and retreated. The door closed on its own, shutting out the noise and trapping the cold. The compressor hummed along. Sheriff Cady rubbed his bare arms to warm them.
While Walt studied the pint of milk, Sheriff Cady moved down behind the sodas, the movement turning over his blood and warming him a little. The sheriff stopped still as if playing Freeze! with one of his grandchildren. Now Walt was perusing the sodas.
Sheriff Cady did not have to look to know that his arm was pressed against the bottles of soda lining the back row. Walt opened the door and again the whoosh of noise and air and voices.
“Steve Garvey was not a queer,” George said.
“Maybe he isn’t now but he was back when he was playing,” Lyle said.
Walt grabbed the first available R.C. Cola and shut the door. Sheriff Cady started to take a breath, then cut it off as Walt opened the door again and grabbed another R.C.
When it was okay for Sheriff Cady to breathe again, his breath came quicker, blowing white.
With Walt’s back to him, the sheriff moved farther down the cooler. He stopped at the door leading out. He looked up. There was Walt again, looking at him through the glass door on the end.
Sheriff Cady felt his heart skip but realized Walt was looking not at him but at the microwave burritos. Again the sheriff didn’t move. He could see Walt mulling, mouthing the words Green Chili? Mild? Walt opened the door, picking up a green chili burrito. Then he put back the green chili burrito and grabbed a mild one. The door closed on the sheriff. He watched Del Ray begin to ring up Walt at the register. Walt stopped him, heading back with the mild burrito.
“Sure, why not get them both?” the sheriff said to himself.
He did not move as Walt returned to the refrigerator case and grabbed a green chili burrito. Walt appeared to be contemplating the weight of each in his hand. Finally, he closed the glass door with his elbow and brought both burritos up to the counter with the milk and the R.C. Walt paid and left the store.
Sheriff Cady stepped from the cooler. He was shivering. He heard the beeping of the electronic eye as someone came into the store.
“Forgot to nuke them,” Walt said, walking toward the microwave oven at the back of the store.
Sheriff Cady ducked behind a stack of boxes filled with mugs and keychains and hats, all branded with logos and pictures of NASCAR cars and drivers. The sheriff listened to the microwave purr. He read the content list printed on the side of the boxes, thinking, Who buys this crap?
The sheriff felt a dull ache in his stomach. He looked to the bathroom. No chance. Walt had a clear view from the microwave. The sheriff felt a cramp coming on and tried to relax. Walt’s burritos continued to cook from the inside out, flamelessly.
Sheriff Cady tried to breathe. Deeply. Quietly. He clenched himself tight as an oil drum. No sooner was Walt out the door, cradling his hot burritos in a paper towel and carrying his drinks in a brown sack, than Sheriff Cady scurried to the bathroom.
Locked.
“Del Ray, toss me the key!”
“What?”
“The key, goddamnit!”
Del Ray tossed the bathroom key to the sheriff, who rammed it into the lock and rushed into the bathroom.
“Kiss your wife with that mouth, Sheriff?” Del Ray said to the closed bathroom door.
35
Walt ate his burritos hunched over the little table near the window of his motel room.
He was certain the sheriff wasn’t watching him, having kept an eye peeled on his way back from Knocky’s. No sign of him.
Walt sipped his R.C. and tried to figure out a way to tend to Randall’s horse at Randall’s house while avoiding the man himself. He grabbed the telephone book from the bedside table. He flipped it open, then dialed the telephone. It rang once, twice. Then someone picked up.
Walt heard Randall on the other end of the line say, “Sheriff’s office.”
Walt hung up.
Grabbed his cowboy hat, he put his pinky through the bullet hole. Walt shook his head. He put on his hat and drove out to Randall’s farm to check on Shep.
When he walked into the barn, Walt saw the belt was still strapped around the horse’s head. Walt could tell the horse seemed calmer. He pulled a horsehair rope from one of the pegs on the wall of the barn and draped it over the animal’s neck. He started to lead Shep out of the barn.
“Where are you going with my daddy’s horse?”
Randall’s daughter was standing in the doorway, bare feet and knees dirty from playing.
Walt couldn’t remember the girl’s name.
“Hey there, girlier,” he said. “Just taking Shep here out to the pasture. He needs to stretch his legs for a bit. Your daddy home, girlie?”
“My name is Leigh.”
“Leigh. Yes, I know. Is your daddy around?”
“No. He’s working. He’s a deputy sheriff. He can shoot you with his gun and not go to jail for it.”
“Uh-huh. Crazy world, isn’t it?” Walt said. “Okay. You want to step aside there? Don’t get hurt now. “
Leigh ignored him, not budging.
“Sometimes I wear my Daddy’s shoes. I hope my folks never, never put a belt on my head.”
“I doubt your folks would ever strap a belt to your head”, Walt said, then mumbling to himself, “Might stuff a sock in your mouth, though.”
“I heard that!”
Walt and Leigh got the giggles simultaneously. Neither of them could stop laughing long enough to catch their breath. Just when it seemed the giggles were gone, they came back stronger.
“A sock! Yuck,” Leigh said, giggles trailing off. “Whose sock would it be?
“Whose sock? What’s the difference? A nasty, stinky, smelly sock is a nasty stinky smelly sock when it’s in your mouth. Doesn’t really matter who the sock belongs to.”
Leigh and Walt cracked up again.
“Eeeww!” Leigh said. “Is it Sheriff Cady’s sock? Cause if he wants his sock back he can come all the way up to the house and get it.”
Leigh turned and waved hello to a small gathering of trees at the end of their long driveway.
“Hi, Sheriff Cady!”
Walt’s eyes searched in the direction she was waving. He saw the grill of Sheriff Cady’s squad car peeking out from behind the trees. Walt stopped laughing. He waved.
Sheriff Cady was kind enough to wave back.