Blood Crimes Book One

ONE

The moving guy was a perpetual college student named Aaron, one of those laconic surfer dudes who never seemed more than ten minutes from a bong hit. He carried boxes in and out with brisk efficiently, sometimes using a metal dolly but often just his own gloved hands. The hardest part was the medical equipment, but stuff that was electrical had been carefully marked with numbered tape, which helped a lot. Somehow they’d managed to reassemble everything. It was finally time to go. Aaron stopped, leaned on the gate to close it. He grabbed his clipboard then took a long look around. Damn, he thought. Why the hell would anyone sane want to live way up here?

The screen door squealed. Aaron looked up, squinted into the afternoon sun. His client cameout of the ancient redwood cabin, stood on the porch and slammed the screen door. Dust rose from the splintered wood and settled again, like a wide cloud of insects too lazy to leave.

“Blood hell,” Jack Wade said with a good-naturedgrin, “what a piece of shit!”

The handsome young Englishman wore carefully torn jeans and a faded tee shirt that had probably set him back three hundred dollars at some shop in Beverly Hills. Aaron thought the guy looked like some movie star dressing down, or maybe a porn star dressing up. Jack glanced around the empty clearing, shrugged his muscular shoulders. “Still, I have to admit that it is kind of pretty up here.”

“You don’t say.” Aaron took in the dilapidated redwood cabin made of splintering boards, the lonely clearing, the dense, piney woods and the foul outhouse. “Way to look on the bright side. Me, I prefer a little human company now and then.”

“Well, it is unquestionably a pig sty, but at least I don’t have to worry about keeping up with the neighbors.”

“Good point. You all set up in there?”

“Almost.” Jack Wade stretched and forced a chuckle. “Can you believe it? That icebox has to be fifty years old, but it still works. Even the television pops on once in a while, before it goes off again. Must be some lose wires. And catch this. The owner put a drain in the kitchen floor, probably because the walls leak when it rains.”

“A drain in the floor? Charming.”

“Anyway, I put the food away and just used my cell to order groceries from some place called the Dry Wells market. I had to leave a message, so God only knows what’s going to show up.”

“Don’t worry, they have to grow something fresh around here besides crystal meth,” Aaron said. “And at least you’ve got one hell of a wine collection.”

“That we do. My spouse is quite the epicurean gourmet.”

“Sorry, dude. I didn’t bring my dictionary.” Aaron finished totaling up the charges, motioned for the new owner to come closer.

Jack didn’t notice at first. Aaron waved a second time. Jack jogged over with the studied insouciance of a natural athlete. “Okay, straight up,” Aaron said, conspiratorially, “tell me you didn’t pay good money for this.”

“No,” Jack said. He flashed a killer smile. “To be honest, I won it in a card game.” He looked down at the clipboard. “That’s everything, right?”

Aaron nodded. “All I need you to do is sign.”

Jack examined the paperwork. He frowned. “What’s with the overcharges?”

“Had to pack it up in the middle of the night, bro. That’s extra.”

Jack scowled. Something unsettling flashed in his eyes. “What, you guys do one swing shift and we have to pay six hundred bucks?”

Aaron looked down and away. “Hey, that’s also for being awake all night, and driving it all the way up here.” He lowered his voice further. “Now, you want to pay me in cash, I’ll do you a solid.”

Aaron looked up hopefully. Jack’s face said he didn’t understand. Aaron cleared his throat. “For cash,” he whispered, “it’ll be like we never met.”

Jack got it. He nodded and reached for his wallet. “Hang on.”

The screen door banged again. A middle-aged brunette in hospital whites emerged from the cabin and walked briskly towards the moving van. “Mr. Wade,” Nurse Clark called, “your wife is in the bedroom. I did her makeup and combed out her hair.” The nurse had a reedy, emery board of a voice that seemed constantly tense. Not for the first time, Jack Wade wondered if the bun in her hair was half as tight as her ass. Still, he paused, managed to turn on the charm as the dour nurse moved closer. “Sure you can’t stay for a day or two, just until we get settled in?”

“I hate to be crass about this, but you’re two weeks behind already.”

“I understand, Nurse Clark, I was a medical student back in England, remember?”

She held her ground. “Well, then you should understand more than most.”

“I’m sorry to let you go, but the insurance money is gone, and we can’t afford to continue on our own.”

“Mr. Wade, I have problems of my own.”

Aaron didn’t care for drama. He sighed theatrically and rapped his fingers on the side of the moving van. “Look, Mr. Wade. Sorry for your troubles, but can we move this along? I haven’t got all day.”

Jack counted out a number of hundred dollar bills. He handed them to the driver. “Here, and it’s like you just said, yeah?”

The nurse fixed on the money, an eagle after a field mouse. “Okay, and while we’re on that subject, pay me. I’m not exactly running a charity here.”

“Of course,” Jack said. He produced a checkbook, began to scribble. Somewhat mollified, Nurse Clark watched until she was certain every dollar was written down properly. “Naturally, I’d love to stay, but I need to get back to town to catch that bus. My damned car is still in the shop from the fender bender I had last week.” She tried to get a look at the remaining balance in his checking account but failed.

Jack ripped the check out, handed it to her with a romantic flourish. “Here, paid in full. And thanks.”

“Oh,” the nurse suddenly purred, “I hate to think of you and your wife up here all alone day after day, why the very idea makes me sad, so of course, if more money becomes available?”

“Sure.” Jack patted her arm. “My cell works up here. We’ll call you.”

“Please do.” Nurse Clark folded the check neatly, held on tight. “Fucking insurance companies are robbing us all blind.”

The driver headed for the cab. “Look lady,” Aaron said, “you want a ride, get in the van.”

Nurse Clark hurried toward the passenger door, clutching the check in her right hand. “Yes, well. Goodbye.”

The moving van backed around the tree stump sitting in the middle of the yard. Aaron made a wide turn to avoid the small porch, and turned back towards the road leading down to Highway 41 and the dying little town of Dry Wells. He rolled down the driver side window as he passed Jack Wade. Aaron winked. They knocked knuckles. “Hang in there, Mr. Wade.”

“I’ll try.”

“And don’t worry, dude. It’s like we never met.”

Jack nodded, backed away towards the tree stump as they drove away. His stomach sank. Jack nearly called out for the driver to wait, but he couldn’t think of a reasonable excuse.

The moving van accelerated over the bumpy turf, went up the steep slope and vanished into the dry pines. Jack Wade returned to the porch, sat on the steps listening. The engine disturbed the mountains for a few moments longer, but then faded away to be replaced by the urgent rapping of woodpeckers, the eerie giggle of a nearby stream and a low, sad wind moving through the trees. The barren quiet soon overwhelmed Jack. This place seemed as isolated as the surface of Mars.

In fact, he’d never felt so alone in his life.

Jack sighed, called out loud. “Well, it’s just you and me now, Frankie. Living it up like a couple of major rednecks.”