Machines of the Little People - Chpt 5

Chapter Five

 

           Fifteen minutes north of downtown Riverside, East Grove was a town left behind by time.  Once the center of shipping for the local orange growers, it was now little more than a cluster of forgotten and aging homes.  

          Acting almost as a barrier, preventing the present from reaching them, train tracks divided the town in two.  On the west the future raced by on the ninety-one freeway.  To the east, no more than sixty or seventy buildings, split by a small central street with no pretense of a business district, comprised the entirety of the town.  Most of the tiny houses looked as though they hadn't had a new coat of paint since the early forties.  Chain link fencing delineated each unkempt yard and painted concrete landscape.  Cracked asphalt and faded lines painted in the road whispered of a final demise not far away.

          "Ben, I don't know if this is a good idea,"    Audry said, repeatedly wiping the palm of her hands down her legs.  

          I patted her lightly to offer comfort.  She smiled weakly before returning her attention to the road once more. 

          I turned the truck onto a small unpaved road half obscured by the ragged trees common here.  Only four houses, spread a stones throw apart, stood watch on this street.  At the very end of this dusty little road one house railed against its destiny.  An older, single story Craftsman, it bragged of fresh paint, glistening windows, and a lush manicured lawn. 

        Painted with the colors of the time period, the house held one unique feature. 

          The front door had been painted a deep royal purple.  Max and Esther lived here.

          I parked in the gravel driveway and came around to let Audry out.  Tilley needed no such invitation.  She jumped from the truck and ran to explore all there was to inhale.  

          Slowly, Audry slipped from the front seat to the ground.  She pulled her top to straighten it out several times before allowing me to close the truck door.

          We climbed the three steps of the front porch.

          Audry bounced anxiously on her toes as I knocked on the door.  The sound of labored footsteps, echoed through the house on their way to the door.  A chain rattled as it was placed on the hook and then the throw of two separate dead bolts.  With an aged moan, the door opened enough to allow an eye to appear.

         "Oh, it's you.  Land sakes, people showing up all uninvited any time of the day.  Coming and going, paying no never mind to my nap time," the voice continued as the door closed and the chain was removed before opening again.

          "Well, don't just stand there.  Come in, come in.  Young folks are always in such a hurry and you two take your time.  You're let'n the dust in.  Come on.  Hurry along.  We ain't got all day." 

          "Hello, Esther.  How are you?"

          "Eighty-one, that's how I am.  Ought to be dead by now but instead I'm playing butler, let'n in the likes of you."

          Just as the door was about to close Tilley pushed her way in, tail wagging like crazy.

          "And you brought your smelly, old dog along,  getting hair all over the place like it don't matter none."

          The door closed and she locked it as a matter of habit.  Turning, she slowly crossed the floor, heading toward the kitchen.

           Hunched with the experiences of a difficult life, Esther stood little more than five foot three.  Her short, white, thinning hair sported a small, yellow, plastic butterfly.  She wore a pale blue cotton dress with tiny white flowers she had made herself from flour sacks.  I had been here many times in the past and had yet to see her wear anything else.  Her dress always appeared fresh and clean and I often wondered if she had made more than one,  only the butterfly in her hair seemed to change.

          "Maxine," she yelled "That Harris boy is here to see you.  You young'uns want some tea?  Of course you do.  Why else would you be here?  Cookies too, I suspect.  Eighty-one and I are  fetching tea and cookies instead of takin' my nap.  How about you, fur ball?  Cookies?  I'll bet you would.  If you're good, I'll let you lick her plate... never know.  Nope, she'll never know.  Make me answer the door and fetch cookies.  You and me, we'll fix her.  Fix her good we will."

          From the kitchen the sounds of cabinet doors being opened and closed with loud bangs and a tea  

kettle being filled and set down heavily on the stove filled the room.  Esther continued to talk to herself with growing irritation.  Eventually, her personal tirade was interrupted by the loud whistle of the kettle.  

          Tilley wandered back and forth, tail wagging madly,  eagerly waiting for her treat.

          Audry and I made our way to the parlor to sit down.  The room smelled musty, stale.  Its polished hardwood floors showed signs that the furniture had been held in the same place for years.  Audry and I held hands as we sat on a small uncomfortable couch.  It was covered in a rough textured, floral material, common in the thirties.  The tall, broad, windows were covered with a heavy, dull olive green drapery and white transparent sheers, holding the outside world at bay.

          "Maxine," Esther yelled again as she reentered the room.  The rattle of a silver tray laden with cups, saucers and cookies carried by an unsure hand accompanied her.

           Audry shot me a sideward glance, squeezing my hand.

          "You have a beautiful house," she offered cheerfully.

          "Ain't none of my doing.  Benny here done it all.  Fool boy just hangs around like he ain't got no place to go, fix'n this, painting that...  like he was beholding to us or ain't got no home for himself. 

Ain't natural, I says, grown man and all," she said, setting the tray on the coffee table.   

          "Maxine.  Company.  You coming?  I ain't given out no cookies if you ain't coming," she shouted down the hallway toward the back of the house.  "Cookies don't grow on no trees.  Ain't just given'em away.  No sir.  Gotta have a reason.  Got to be a good one too.  Except for you," she said, bending at the waist, balancing herself with her hands on her knees, talking to Tilley.  "Best listener in three counties.  Ain't no dog.  She's one of them listening doctors.  Pay her in cookies, I do," she said, talking half to herself, half to us, tossing a treat to Tilley.  

           From the back of the house a door groaned followed by a familiar, rhythmic tap.  Slowly, belying the true distance from its origin, it took several moments for Maxine to appear.

          Proceeding her, a thick white stick, its tip painted red, tapped the floor with a solid regimen of click and clack.  Although not completely blind, Maxine used it more for practice than of need.  A tiny thing at four foot seven, dressed in white caprice pants and matching top, she was round in appearance.  Her movement was anything but graceful. 

Her hips swung stiffly, throwing her legs forward.  She walked with locked knees, her legs pegged, straight and unyielding.  Her jarring gate was painful to watch.

          She made her way to a small table with two chairs in the corner of the room and sat down with an exhausted huff of air.

          "Benjamin," she said softly, folding her cane and slipping it next to her in the chair, gazing straight ahead.  "So, why are you and Tilley here begging cookies from Esther?"

           "Max, I came to see you," I said, moving to the table with Audry in tow.  "This is Audry, Roger's sister.  We need your help.  Roger is missing."

          "Grown man don't just up and disappear, lessen he don't want to be found," Esther offered, taking our place on the couch, pouring herself a cup of tea.  

          "His wife, Jessica, has been killed and the authorities think my Roger is to blame," Audry offered, slipping into the empty chair across from Max.

          "Oh no.  I know where this is going.  Maxine, you said no more.  God is watching," Esther shouted, jumping to her feet. 

          "Just this once, Esther," Max said barely over a whisper.  "Get it for me, dear,"

          "I ain't helping you get into bed with the devil."

          "It's a gift Esther.  It has nothing to do with the devil.  Get it for me," Max pressed,  looking straight ahead as she spoke.

           "That's what the devil wants you to think.  Make you grateful to do his bidding when he comes to ask," Esther said, shaking an accusatory finger.

          "Get it, Esther.  I'll deal with God and the devil on my own, no worries, huh?"   Max said, slowly turning her head toward Esther's voice.   

          "Only me and God standing between you and the gates of hell and you want to wear roller skates on a slope of good intentions.  Can't beat no horse that won't drink from the well of God.  Crazy old woman.  Probably can't do it anymore anyway.  All dried up and mean, keeping me from my nap," Esther complained, crossing the room to a large curio cabinet.  Producing a key from her pocket, she continued to mutter to herself as the tumbler clicked  and the door swung open.  Reaching into the cabinet, she removed a bottle of Kentucky bourbon from behind a large serving plate. 

It was a little less than full with a shot glass set upside down over the top.

          Esther brought it to the table, shaking her head, setting it down with a heavy thunk.  She stood over Max, her head tilted, her arms folded.

          "Thank you, Esther," Max said, reaching for the bottle.

          "Don't thank me.  God knows I wash my hands of the whole..."

          "Want a shot or not?" Maxine interrupted,  taking the glass from the bottle.

          "I would never allow the kiss of Satan to touch my lips," Esther intoned indignantly.

          "You can go first," Max said, filling the glass.

          "But you always go first."

          "Ben here needs our help.  You know he wouldn't ask if it weren't important.  For Ben," Max said, lifting the shot glass.

          "Benny's a good boy, ain't no doubt, and I ain't one to be beholding to no one." Esther said, taking the glass and throwing it back in one gulp.  

          Max refilled the glass and following Esther's lead and swallowed the liquor with not so much as a blink. 

          Without missing a beat the glass was filled again and pushed to Esther's side of the table.

          I brought more chairs from the kitchen as Maxine and Esther took turns trading shots.

          "Land sakes, done missed my nap.  Dying soon anyway.  Benny, bring those cookies over here.  We're about to talk to the Devil again,"  Esther howled, throwing her turn at the bourbon to the back of her throat, banging the glass on the table.

          Refilling the glass once more, Max offered a round to Audry and she followed suit. 

          I passed.

          I sat for the next two hours as the glass passed from hand to hand and the conversation became little more than giggles.

          "Esther," Max said, softly placing a hand on her arm.

          "Sissy?" Esther responded, slumped in her chair, her chin resting on her chest.

          "She's ready, Ben," Max said, turning to me.  "What did you bring?"

          "I'd like to start with this," I said, pulling Jessica's gold broach from my shirt pocket.

           Max examined it with her fingers, rolling it over in her hand.

          "Esther, we're looking for the person this belongs too," Max whispered, taking the shot glass and replacing it with the broach.

          To all outward appearances Esther was asleep in her chair.

          "Pretty girl," she murmured.

          "Esther, it's important.  Concentrate," Max said, placing both hands over the hand holding the broach.

          "Belongs to the nine sisters."

          "What nine sisters?" I asked, moving closer to the table.

          "Made to be the same to get their way," Esther mouthed.

          "Esther, this is Ben.  Who gets their way?"   I pressed for more, having no idea what it meant.

          "She is... a shining star... Her name is Joan.  Gave all, proud to be the reason for the light.  Died when they made it dirty," Esther said, a tone of disappointment filling her voice.

          "Who killed her, Esther?" Max asked, leaning in closer.

          "The brother," she said flatly.

          "That's enough," Audry said, placing her hand on top of Max's.

          My head jerked to look at Audry with the words.  My heart sank with her expression, with the thoughts that must have been passing through her mind at this moment.

          "Where is he?"  I asked, lightly pulling Audry's hand away.

          Max's head turned toward me for a moment and then returned to Esther.

          "Where is he, dear?" she asked.

          "He is at the Apple yard,"

          "Where is the Apple yard?  How do we find him?" I pressed.

          "In the lake valley.  Lots of folks looking, looking in the wrong places they are." Esther smirked.  "Hiding from the sadness when they made the light dirty.  Living in the lake now."

          "How do we find him, Esther?" Max repeated.

           "Living in the lake with Apple yard, I says." Esther voice held an edge of frustration.

          A long silence followed.

          Audry held her head in her hands, obviously drowsy.

          "Esther," Max said, shaking the woman's arm lightly.

          Her head fell back, her limbs suddenly limp, her mouth opened full and from somewhere deep in her lungs a loud, furniture shaking snore ripped through the room.

          "Sorry, Ben.  We've lost her," Max said, dropping her hands to the table in defeat.  

          "It's okay.  We have more now than we had before," I offered.

          My mind reeled with the thought that Roger was the killer.  It just didn't make sense to me.  I never would have thought it of him.  The worst was I'd never known Esther to be wrong.  This was my fifth time to witness the process,  each time before every word came to pass.  I had been skeptical at first, but when their van had been stolen that settled it for me. When the police showed up to take the report, they told them to go to a local market and wait, that the van and the two who stole it would be there in three days at four fifteen. 

          They found it and the thieves’ right where Esther said they would be.

          Another loud, extended snore from Esther penetrated the room, breaking my chain of thought.

          "Ben, I'm not feeling so good," Audry mumbled, doing her best to stand.

          I grabbed her arm to help steady her.  She fell full weight  against me.  Wrapping an arm around her, supporting her, I guided her to the door.

          "I'll put her in the truck and then help you with Esther," I called over my shoulder to Max.

          "No need, Ben.  Just let her sit.  I'll help her after her nap," Max said, taking another shot, banging the glass on the table with a big smile of satisfaction.

          "Thanks, Max.  I'm grateful,"

          "For everything you've done for us, I wish it had been more."

          "It's enough,"  

          "I'll take your word for it, my boy," she said, lifting the shot glass in toast.

          Like an awkward dance, Audry and I swung with each new attempt at balance, making the truck seem much farther away than I had originally thought. 

          After several attempts at finding the shortest path, I gave up and settled on remaining upright.  I propped Audry against the truck as I opened the door.  Before I could position myself to put her in, she slid to the ground.  

          "Dear God... Ben, don't look," she gasped, now on all fours.

          She retched, several times, in fact, and began to cry.

          "God damn it, Ben, don't look.  Damn it, don't..."   And she threw up again.

          Tilley offered her sympathy, licking her face.  It was everything I could do to keep from laughing.

          Apparently, Audry couldn't handle Kentucky bourbon.   

          "Oh, my God.  My head is killing me.  How long have I been out?"  Audry asked, stumbling into the

living room,  swaying as she held herself upright by the jamb.

          She was dressed only in one of my work shirts and a pair of black socks.  Her hair had taken on a life of its own.

          "Since about this time yesterday," I offered.

          "I swear, I will never do that again, ever.  I'd have to be dead for three days to feel better.  Did it work?  Do we know were Roger is?" she moaned.

          "Yep, we do.  Esther says he's living in the lake at the apple yard," I said

          "Oh good, that makes it so much clearer.  My head was pounding so hard I wasn't sure."  She shuffled across the floor to let the table catch her.  She spread her arms out in front of her, placing her head on the table.

          "You okay?"

          "Tell me when the room stops spinning.  What are you doing anyway?"

           "Looking for an apple orchard near a lake in the map book,"

          "That would have been my next guess.  If my brain were still alive."  She slumped over in the chair, sliding to the floor.  Sprawled half under the table, she rocked her head back and forth softly.  "Ben, please make it stop."

          "Get some more sleep.  I'll pick up a little something to eat and wake you when I get back."

          "Okay, but if I'm dead when you get back, don't tell me.  Let me find out for myself," 

          "Okay but it might sound better coming from me."

          "Ben?"

          "What, Audry?" I asked slipping into my coat.

          "Is she right?" she asked softly, her eyes still closed.  "Do you think Roger could really do something so terrible?"

          "She's always right.  Maybe we're missing something.  Maybe it will make more sense when we find Roger.  Maybe he can straighten this all out."

          "We are going to find him... right?"

          "Of course we will."

          "No matter what?"

          "No matter what, sweetheart.  I promise," I said, trying to convince myself as much as her.  "Back in a handful."

          As I drove along my mind repeated everything Esther had said, trying to put it into some sort of order, something that held at least a thin line of logic to tie it all together.  This shouldn't be this

hard.  Everything followed some form of order.  There was always a first step followed by another and then another.  I had to remind myself that right now all the steps had been put into a big box and shaken up.  All I had to do was figure out which one was the first one.

          I had gone to my favorite Chinese restaurant for take out.  After placing my order, I sat in the bar and waited.  As I gazed into space, the bartender slid a glass of soda in front of me.  One of the advantages of being predictable was that people already knew what I wanted before I wanted it.  Having been here at least once a  week for twenty plus years got me that kind of convenience.

          "Buy you a root beer, Mr. Harris?" a man's voice asked.

          As I turned the man who saved me from the attack at Roger's house was suddenly there sliding onto the stool next to me.

          "Let me buy one for you.  My treat," I said, happy to see him.

          "Make it a beer and you have a deal," he answered.

          The bartender pushed a frothy glass in front of him before rushing off to serve someone else.

          "You following me?" I asked half knowing the answer.

          "Nope, just like Mexican food," he said, looking straight ahead.

          "The Mexican place is across the street," I corrected.

          "They don't have a bar,"

          "Well 'Bob' what can I do for you?"

          "Heard you went to East Grove for a few drinks a couple of days ago," he said, taking a long drink of his beer.

          "Really?  From who?"

          "I still have friends on the inside.  Heard you really pissed off Williams."

          "Glad to hear it."

          "Thought I'd make you an offer, what with you being close to the East Grove sisters."

          "I'm listening," I said, pretending to show little interest.

          "I'll tell you what I know; you tell me what you know.  I'll trade you one for one," he said, turning on his stool, holding out his hand.

          "Done," I said shaking his hand.

          His tongue suddenly rimmed the inside of his lips as if he had been anticipating this for some time.

          "What's your name?" I asked, jumping in while I had the chance.

          He shifted uncomfortably on the stool, glancing about the immediate area before answering.

          "Tom.  Tom Buskin," he said softly , shaking my hand again.  "My turn.  What did they say?"

         "They said Roger is living in the apple yard in the lake," I said as factually as possible.

          "Have any idea what it means?" he asked, leaning closer.

          "That's two.  Mine first.  Who are the nine sisters?"

          His body jerked slightly, tensing as if I had hit a nerve dead center. 

          "Ask me another," he said, turning back to his beer.

          His reaction stunned me.  It meant more than I could have guessed.

          "Why is Roger's work a matter of national security?"

          "Not going to make this easy, are you?"

          Again, I had hit a nerve without expecting to.  I shook my head.

          "Fine.  His work has made particle weapons possible," he whispered softly without looking at me.

          "Beg your pardon?"

          "Ever see one of those movies where light beams shoot out of a gun and kills people?  That's what Roger does.  He kills people.  Hundreds at a time, with light."  He sipped at his beer before turning to me.

          I was in shock.  I didn't know what to say.  The image of the guy laying in Roger's backyard after being struck by that blue light, jumped into my mind.  It could have just as easily been me.   

          "Like I said, know what it means?"

          "Wish I did.  I've looked at every map I could get my hands on, but nothing.  I've looked for lakes, I've looked for apple orchards, and I can't make sense of any of it.  All she said was 'her name was Joan and was proud of being the reason for the light until they dirtied it.'   Know what she meant?"

          "Yeah, I do."  He took another sip of beer, swallowing hard.  "I was the division chief for all of Roger's projects.  Most were for communications, quantum leaps in laser tech research.  His work made cell phones look like two cans tied to a string.  We were about to set the world on its ear.  That is, until your sister died.  He disappeared for months.  When he came back everything changed.  Williams took over and I was relegated to scouting new talent.  Then I got wind of the Gemini Project.  Once I found out for sure, I couldn't do it any more.  I quit.  Tried to keep and eye on Roger to make sure he was okay but she turned him against me,"  he said.  

          The words rushed out of him as if he had been waiting his entire life to vent his frustration.  His face held worry beyond any level of personal expectation.  

          "The Gemini Project?" I asked, hoping to cash in on the moment, praying I hadn't gone too far.

          He smiled broadly before turning to his beer again.  Up ending the glass, he finished it in one swallow.  Taking the napkin from under the glass, he scribbled something on it.

          "I hear they have great potato skins.  They're best after nine on Thursdays.  Make sure you go alone," he said, pushing the paper into my pocket.  "Ben," he said, slapping me firmly on the shoulder.

          "Tom," I returned and he was gone.

          I looked at the paper in my pocket a dozen times as I drove home.  Each time I took it out, I only heard the words 'come alone'.  Why would he say that?  Was I suppose to lose someone following me or... then it jumped into my head...   Audry.  He meant Audry, but why?  I had to think about that for a while.

          By the time I pulled into the driveway I put the napkin under the seat, deciding to error on the side of caution and to keep Tom to myself...  for the time being.

 

 

Reviews

[Wendy Seames Garner]

Hmm...the nine sisters, reason for the light, and Roger living in the lake with the apple yard - this is going to take some figuring.

Just a couple of things here:

"With wide rails to suede us," Not sure I understand the meaning of this.

"Audry bounce anxiously on her toes as I knocked on the door." Do you mean bounced?

"Esther offered, taking our place on the couch, pouring herself a cup of tea." Did you mean: taking (her) place on the couch?