Something Bad, page 9
The councillor cleared his throat and looked down at the paper. “The provosts say you are to be given no more latitude. They acknowledge your long, dedicated service and your contributions, but they are tired of your continual breach of organizational statutes. They fear you’re becoming a liability to the Organization. They send this warning. If you don’t alter your path, you’ll be pulled from the field and terminated.”
“And what has them so upset this time?”
“You know what you’ve done.”
Thibideaux slid off the chair directly in front of the councillor, who took two steps backward. “Acquisitions in rural areas are complex these days. If you’d ever done one, you’d know that. They take preparation. There has to be a set-up. People have to be primed. That’s all I’ve done on this job. This is legitimate set-up work.”
“And the lives of citizens are fair game?”
“I’ll explain my actions to you once, and only once. So don’t ask again. The first one was going to compromise my set-up plan. He had to be neutralized. The second case is the hook for the plan. If you’ll have a little patience, you’ll see how it plays out. Maybe you’ll learn the difference between theory and actual practice. Maybe the provosts will learn the difference. Besides, I do follow the rules. In both cases, the little ones weren’t harmed.”
“You need to follow all of the rules,” the councillor said.
Thibideaux exhaled. “You’re new at this so I’ll do you a favor today. How carefully have you studied the Organization? The statutes may seem clear to you, but once you’ve worked with them for awhile, you begin to see flexibility in the wording.”
The councillor frowned and shook his head. “The wording is as unambiguous as it can get. There is no room for personal interpretation. You know the Organization forbids it.”
“The statutes would be fine if all of the targets were robots, or computers, but we’re dealing with people here.”
The councillor balled his hands into fists and scowled. “The others don’t have any problem following them.”
Thibideaux took a step forward. His voice climbed up in tone to match his volume. “Compare my success rate to the others. Don’t you suppose there’s a reason? Working in the country isn’t like working in the cities. If you want success out here, then stand back and let me work.”
The councillor held his ground. “I can’t.”
Thibideaux laughed. “Why not?”
“The provosts have given an ultimatum this time. Your entire career will now balance on this one job. You’ll stand review when you’re finished here. I’m instructed to maintain an active oversight of your activities throughout this job.”
“I don’t want anyone looking over my shoulder. I refuse.”
“You can’t refuse.”
Thibideaux looked at the floor and sighed. “Be a nice little boy and stay out of my way. If I’m to stand review at the end of the job, then there’s no need for you to keep watch. I’ll pass or fail on my own performance.”
The councillor folded the paper and shook his head. “I can’t.”
“Why not? Why are you being such a pain in the ass?”
“There’s a second part to the memo.” The councillor’s shoulders slumped. “If you don’t pass the review, you aren’t the only one to go.”
“Heads will roll, huh?”
“No, not heads. Just mine. My future with the Organization is dependent on your performance, too.”
Thibideaux smiled. “And what did you do to deserve this assignment? Have you been a bad little boy, too?”
“You just don’t get it, do you? I’m in this situation because I defended you. Time and again. Without me you would’ve stood review long before now. Because of you, this is my last chance.”
“So, you want me to kiss you or something?”
“No. Just try to think of the rules this time. All of them—as they are written. We’re in this one together.”
Thibideaux turned on his heels and walked over to the fireplace. He poked at the cold ashes with a stick. “You said you’d be brief. You’ve had your say. Now leave. I have work to do. And try to stay out of my way. If I’m going to be successful in this assignment,
I’ll need a free hand.”
The councillor shook his head and started to say something, but Thibideaux interrupted. “Leave! Now!”
Thibideaux turned his back. When he turned around, the councillor was gone. He spoke to the chair. “He’ll be thanking me on this one. We’ll make the target. And we’ve got a good secondary in the works as well, don’t we? Just like the last time we were here. But we won’t let the secondary get away this time, will we?”
CHAPTER
16
JOHN JOHNSON HATED funerals for the same reason everyone else in the Tri-counties was drawn to them. Everyone wanted to find out what “really happened.” That was his job. Besides, he didn’t like being around the locals when they were in the frenzy of inquiry. In this case, the funeral turnout was unusually large since two families were being eulogized together and the buzz of inquisitiveness was hive-deafening due to the nature of the passings.
John looked up at the sky. The weather was beautiful. It remained that way for both the church and cemetery portions of the service, but it suddenly turned nasty when Press’ party broke for the Herndon’s Edge.
John and Billy rushed in the front door of the Edge as the first raindrops fell. John watched a puddle enlarge in the entryway of the café as the rest of the group filed in. The sudden turn of the weather caught everyone without umbrellas and apparently didn’t give Teddy and Deena Lee a chance to pull out the absorbent entry mats.
Teddy had a marvelous table set up with finger sandwiches, potato salad, cheese squares and melon balls. And the staple of all community get-togethers—green jello, with pear pieces this time. Teddy’s jello mold was notorious in the Tri-counties. It was huge, more than two feet across, in the shape of a wreath, and Teddy’s was the only refrigerator large enough to jell the green syrup. The mold was pressed into service during funerals, for promotions and awards, and following victories in local athletic events. Both fortunately and unfortunately, it wasn’t needed very often in the Tri-counties.
John grabbed Billy’s arm and steered him over to the far corner booth. He waited until Mac looked in his direction and flicked his head in a sideways “come here” motion. When the new triumvirate was properly sequestered, John put his elbows on the table and lowered his head, leaning toward the other two. They followed suit. John pulled a folded paper from his back pocket, a move that called the meeting to order.
“I been thinking about this situation and I got an idea of what’s going on.” John’s expression bore the confidence of a theory that didn’t need to be tested.
All three moved their heads closer together as John unfolded the paper. They were so close a Softball would have had trouble falling between them without hitting one or more scalp.
John tapped the paper twice with his right index finger. “This here’s a map of the Tri-counties.” It was a rough sketch produced by John himself.
With two more taps, he added, “This here’s the swamp, and this here’s State Route 27. I figure the best route for the freeway shunt is as close to the swamp as possible since it cuts the distance, and making freeways is charged by the mile.” He looked up and saw the other two were staring at the map. He removed a stubby pencil from his shirt pocket. “But it can’t go too close to the swamp because it always floods a bit in the winter and spring. Also, the winter fogs would be a problem. So, as near as I can figure, the best route is right through here.” He traced over a thick line on the drawing with the pencil.
Billy interrupted the moment of silence, his exuberance expressed in decibels. “That’s beautiful, John. You should have worked for the highway department.”
John and Mac bumped heads before recoiling in their seats. John looked at the crowd in the café and crumpled the map in his lap. “Shut-up, Billy.”
When he was sure no one had noticed, John pulled the map back to the table and smoothed it out with his palms. His voice lowered a little as he leaned forward again.
“This route cuts the distance, but it also goes through the fewest number of farms. Look here. If the shunt goes here, it cuts through two extra farms, while taking it down here goes through an extra three.” John had the faint outline of the borders of each farm drawn in and with each new pass of his pencil, he traced an alternate, more southerly highway path.
“Holy shit,” Mac said, a little too loud.
John crumpled the map into his lap again.
Mac’s hands leapt into action and his voice lowered to a whisper. “You suppose Thibideaux knows about this? Maybe we should let him in on it.”
“Shut up, Mac,” John said between clenched teeth. “This ain’t the important stuff. Look here. Here’s Press’ farm. And here’s the one where the house collapsed. Look where they are. Right in the path of the best route.”
“Holy shit,” Mac said, this time loud enough to turn heads in the Edge. His excitement started a drum solo of muscle twitches.
John had the map between his legs again, and he squeezed his thighs as tightly as if he was about to pee his pants right up on the stage of the Grand Ole Opry.
The three froze.
“Why’s this so important?” Billy finally said. “Isn’t Thibideaux smart enough to know this is the best way to build the highway?”
“Jesus Christ, Billy,” John said. “Can’t you see the families that are in the highway path are getting killed off? That’s one way to get land cheap in these parts. Kill the whole family and the relatives will sell for a prayer.”
Billy frowned. “Who’d want to do that?”
“Think, Billy, think. Who’s here to arrange to buy the land? Who’s here to find the cheapest path through the Tri-counties?”
Billy’s voice climbed an octave. “Thibideaux?”
John’s voice went in the opposite direction. “Shut the fuck up, Billy. You trying to bring the whole party over here?”
“Sorry, John, I just—”
“Look,” John said. “We got a problem here. We need to go to the sheriff. But if we go with this stuff, he’ll throw us out of his office. We need more proof.”
Mac leaned forward and frowned. “I don’t know, John. Press was killed by lightning hitting a tree, and no one’s sure why the house collapsed. How does that go to Thibideaux?”
“I don’t know, Mac. But there’s just too much coincidence. That’s why we can’t go to the sheriff yet.”
Mac’s hands tapped the table in a steady rhythm. “So what do we do?”
John leaned back a little. “I don’t know. Maybe we should watch Thibideaux real close. What do the two accidents have in common?”
Billy smiled. “They were both in the line of the new highway.”
John rolled his eyes. “We already know that, Billy. Let me and Mac get some thinking done here, okay?”
Billy slumped on the bench.
Mac gazed at the ceiling. “Um … I don’t know. What do you think they have in common?”
John inched closer to the table so his belly was creased by its edge. “Come on, Mac. Think. What time of day did they occur?”
“At night.”
“Right. We’re going to have to watch Thibideaux at night.”
“All night?” Billy said.
John frowned. “I’m not sure when the house collapsed, but Press was killed just after dark. Mac, you want to see if the sheriff knows when the house went down? I’ll scout out the rectory to see where we can do the best watching.”
Billy’s forehead creased over a frown. “What if Thibideaux catches you? He might kill you, too.”
“Good point.” For the first time, John didn’t know what to say, so he continued with an ad-lib.
“I know,” he said. “Next time Thibideaux comes in here, I’ll sneak out and check things out. If he tries to leave, you and Mac will have to stall him.”
“How we going to do that?” Billy said.
John leaned back in his seat and brought his hands together behind his neck, interweaving his fingers. “You’ll have to figure that out on your own.”
Billy looked at Mac and smiled.
“Okay, let’s get back to the others before they get suspicious,” John said as he folded the map into a neat but edge-frayed rectangle and placed it in his back pocket.
As the three walked toward the others, the sky cleared to reveal a bright sun that glinted off the rain-spotted windshields of the parked cars, causing the patrons to shield their eyes or turn away.
CHAPTER
17
DEENA LEE LEANED around the half-wall and nodded to Teddy. He returned her smile and walked out to the counter and tapped a spoon on the worn Formica. “Y’all let Deena Lee know if you need anything. She’s about to sit down for a spell.”
Deena Lee hurried to the far corner booth, slid all the way back on the bench, and stretched both legs flat on the seat. Now in her fifth month, she was feeling the aches and pains of being on her feet the whole day. She looked at Teddy, who worked the griddle like it was an old friend, and smiled. It was his idea to give her five minutes of peace and elevated legs every half hour, and she felt much more than appreciation. She felt lucky. Lucky because, given the choice, Teddy would choose her over the griddle any day.
Deena Lee slid off the bench. As her feet hit the floor, a strong gust of wind blew through the door of the Edge, heralding the appearance of Thibideaux, who headed for his now-customary seat at the bar.
“Afternoon, Mr. Thibideaux. Special again today?” Deena Lee said, cheerful from her recent rest.
“Good afternoon to you, Ms. Murtry. I believe I will try Teddy’s special. Do you recommend it?”
“No one’s been killed yet.” She giggled loud enough for everyone to hear and looked in Teddy’s direction. When she looked back at Thibideaux, she thought she saw the hint of a grin.
“The special it is, then. And, you’re looking radiant today. The pregnancy seems to be agreeing with you. All is going well with the baby and you?”
“I’m doing all right. Starting to get a bit of the heartburn, and the little tyke’s kicking a bit, and my ankles are still swelling. Otherwise, can’t complain.” Deena Lee smiled at the slight contradiction in her answer.
Thibideaux shook his head. “It must be a wonderful sensation, feeling the baby move. Something no man will ever experience. No wonder the maternal bond is so strong. Have you thought about what you’ll do with the child once it is born?”
Deena Lee froze. She only thought about it every spare minute she had, and she hadn’t struck on a solution. It created an undercurrent of stress in her happy condition, like a strong undertow that tempers enjoyment of the beautiful waves at the beach. It also put an edge in her voice.
“I’ll be able to take care of my child.”
Thibideaux straightened on the stool. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I was just curious about how you would manage to work and take care of the baby. I presume you’ll continue to work here.”
Deena Lee skulked behind the half-wall. Almost immediately, she returned to the counter and stopped in front of the little man. “What was it you said you’re doing in these parts?”
The Edge went quiet.
“I didn’t say, Ms. Murtry. In fact, I can’t give details of my job right now. But it is really important, and it will be revealed to some, including you, eventually.”
Deena Lee started to turn around, but stopped. “But you are from around New Orleans. Is that right?”
“I have a house just outside the Crescent City, but I don’t get to enjoy it as much as I’d like.”
Deena Lee put her palms flat on the counter directly in front of Thibideaux and leaned forward to take some of the weight off of her back. “How long do you stay in places like this? You’ve been here, what, about two months now?”
Thibideaux leaned back and folded his hands in his lap. “That’s about right. My jobs are variable. All I can say is that I have to stay on to the end, and I don’t know when that is until it’s right on top of me.”
Deena Lee tried to detect a change in Thibideaux’s expression, but it was the usual blank screen.
“So, you have any idea how close you are? How long can we expect you to come for the specials?” She forced a smile and straightened her back. Staying in one position too long only aggravated her aching knees and ankles. To her surprise, he continued the conversation.
“My guess is I’ll be enjoying Teddy’s specials for anywhere from six months to nearly a year. I like the country, and your part of it in particular, so I hope it’ll be closer to the longer estimate.”
“Special up,” Teddy said as he leaned over the half wall. “Mr. Thibideaux, I’ve put together a wailin’ dish today. If you like grilled chicken strips in a secret marinade, over wild rice, with a side of assorted greens, you’ll be asking for the recipe for the sauce, which you can’t have, but thank you.”
Thibideaux looked up at Teddy. “Sounds great. Any reason you’re in such a good mood today?”
Teddy rounded the kitchen wall and placed a straight arm on the counter. “I just made arrangements to have Teddy Jr. baptized this Sunday. He’s able to hold his head up a bit, so I figure Reverend Sather won’t give him whiplash when he dunks him.”
Deena Lee thought she saw a change in Thibideaux’s expression. He swiveled on his chair so he faced directly at Teddy, and his focus seemed to narrow — his eyes seemed more intense. And she thought she saw a slight glint of silver come from his mouth. Kind of like from the braces city kids put on their teeth, but she’d never seen them on a man of Thibideaux’s age.
“My sincere congratulations, Teddy,” Thibideaux said. “Baptisms are such wonderful events. They offer the hopes of the future and represent such opportunities I can’t help but be drawn to them.”
