Hunter's Moon Read online

  People needed bottled water at these events, and he was okay with selling his quality product to them. The more word got out about his Knobley Mountain Bottled Water, the better. Last week he’d taken the big truck with a load up to Franklin, WV for the Treasure Mountain Festival. Sometime later this week, he’d run a load to Kingwood, WV for the Buckwheat Festival and another to Springs, Pa. for the Folk Festival in the small town of 300. Also, the Autumn Glory Festival people in Oakland, Md. wanted a small amount, only half a truckload, to test out this year. They’d heard of his product from others in the area and wanted to see how well it sold before giving him all their business. He was fine with that. They would be back for more, he was sure. Right now, he had all the business he could handle.

  Tom entered the building and quickly found the orders for the Cumberland run. His truck would be full this morning, and he loaded it carefully with the fork truck. Just the other day, one of the drivers turned too swiftly, and a full pallet fell to the concrete floor. Fortunately, no one was hurt, but they had a driver’s meeting shortly afterward on the safe operation of a forklift. With water, the mess to clean up was minimal, unlike soft drinks or beer, but someone could have been seriously hurt or worse, and there was also the dollar loss from damaged product and clean up.

  He opened the large door and drove the truck out of the warehouse. At this hour, he would be just ahead of the early morning traffic. Who would have ever thought that WV Route 28 would ever have a rush hour? But with the delivery trucks, school buses, people going to work and normal through traffic, it was quite hectic in the morning and again in the afternoon. Finding an opening, he rolled the truck out onto the highway. A mile later, he passed the Old Furnace Restaurant, and the parking lot was full. Bet they’re as busy as a one-armed paper hanger. Before long, he made the left turn onto Alternate WV Route 28 that took him to Ridgeley, WV, and on to Cumberland, Md. The old road down the side of the mountain was narrow with no shoulder for pull-offs and not one of Tom’s favorite highways. He slowed to 25 mph as he reached the town of Ridgeley. The old high school where he narrowly escaped arrest some years before was still there but was now a middle school. Oh, how he wished to relive and changed the events that happened, but he realized if he could, he would not be the man he was today. Funny how things work out, he thought.

  Tom rolled the truck through the small town. His truck barely fit under the Western Maryland Railroad viaduct. He noted the damage done to the underpass by those who missed the warning signs. Not too long ago, a semi unsuccessfully attempted to pass through the low passage and what a mess that made. Traffic was tied up for nearly half a day as workers removed the stuck and damaged eighteen-wheeler.

  He made a tight S turn, went past the state historical marker telling about Fort Ohio, the old blockhouse the Ohio Company built in the 1700s when this area was the American frontier. Soon he crossed the Blue bridge over the Potomac River into Maryland and stopped for the light at the intersection with Green Street. Traffic from I 68 rumbled overhead on the cross-town elevated highway. To his right sat the old, small, log building that served as Colonel George Washington’s headquarters while he served with English General Edward Braddock during the French and Indian War in the mid-1700s. It’s a shame, thought Tom, how little the local people know about the rich history of their area.

  The light changed to green, and Tom swung the truck left onto Greene Street, and his first stop was the Sheetz convenience store a few blocks away. He made another left into the parking lot and pulled into the delivery area. Sheetz would be getting their normal quantity. They’d been an excellent addition to his clientele when they moved into the area. A figure on the little rise next to the store caught his eye. It was Carole, better known as Crazy Carole, by the people of Cumberland. She was a homeless person with schizophrenia, and Tom knew her. Two plastic bags at her feet contained everything she owned, and she wore a tan sleeveless top and shorts that came to mid-thigh. Her arms were around her body, and she stood shivering in the cold morning air. Tom had a special place in his heart for the people like her as he knew first-hand about mental illness. His older son, Brian, had schizophrenia and took his own life to escape the madness.

  Tom reached behind the seat and searched through a bag of assorted clothes; all his drivers carried for times such as these. Joann, his wife, picked them up at thrift stores around the area. He found a jacket and some blue jeans that should fit Carole. Carefully, he folded them, got out of the truck, and walked across the concrete parking lot toward the shivering woman.

  “Carole,” he called. “Carole, it’s Tom.”

  She turned her head toward him, and a bit of a smile came to her face. “Hi, Tom,” she said without emotion. This was not their first meeting. Whenever Tom was able, he would stop from his duties, talk with her, and usually give her a $10 bill to help her that day.

  “I’ve got something here to help keep you warm.”

  She looked into the bag Tom gave her and said to him, “Thank you.” Her small smile grew a bit. She took the jacket out of the bag and quickly put it on. Next, she stepped into the blue jeans, pulled them up over her bare legs, and buttoned them at the waist. She pulled the zipper up, looked at Tom, and again said, “Thank you,” and nothing more.

  “Are you hungry?” asked Tom. She nodded her head, yes. “Well, how about I get you and me a couple of egg and bacon biscuits, some tater tots and coffee over there?” And he pointed to Sheetz. She nodded her head again, and they walked down the hill to the store with Carole carrying her two ragged sacks of possessions. Tom opened the door and directed Carole to a small booth that could accommodate four people with two on each side. “Sit here, and I’ll get us the food.”

  “Okay,” she said, sat down, and placed her bags on the chair next to her.

  Tom walked to the fast food section of the convenience store, ordered and quickly received their breakfast items in a paper bag. He walked over to where Carole was sitting, placed the bag on the table between them, and sat down directly across from her. The warm food smelled mouthwatering, and Carole’s little smile grew slightly bigger. He took the food out of the bag and placed the items before them. She quickly grabbed the big biscuit and began eating hungrily. Tom bowed his head and blessed the food. Carole noted her faux pas and quit eating. Tom mouthed an amen and opened his eyes, which met Carole’s. “Did you bless it for me too, Tom?” she asked. He nodded his head yes, and she said, “Thank you,” again.

  “So how are you, Carole? What’s new with you? I see you’re not at the treatment center. Are you taking your meds?”

  “Oh, I’m okay, more or less.” Again she smiled a little, took another bite of her meal, and sipped on the hot coffee.

  “You know you would do better if you took your medicine and the treatment they give at the center.”

  “Don’t wanna go back there while she is there! She is evil! Don’t wanna go back there unless she is gone.”

  “Who is she, and why don’t you like her?”

  “Noela Chateaux. She molested me while I was there once. I’ll scratch her eyes out if I ever get the chance. She’s got it coming. I’ve been in a couple of times since, but never got the chance. They keep her away from me now, and the last time I was there, she was on vacation. I’ll hurt her bad. All I need is the opportunity. She’s got it coming.”

  Tom was taken back. “Didn’t you tell anyone? Didn’t they do something?”

  Carole looked at Tom like he was stupid. “They didn’t do nothin’. Nobody believed me. After all, I’m Crazy Carole. Nobody believes me.”

  “I’m sorry. That’s terrible. Wish there was something I could do.”

  “Don’t worry about it. My lawyer friend gets me out now when they haul me in. We got an agreement.”

  Tom was puzzled. “An agreement?”

  “Yeah, he gets me out of the happy hotel, and I sleep with him. A girl’s got to do what a girl got to do. Sometimes I turn tricks here around town too for money to live.” Carole
sipped at the coffee and took a bite of the potato patty, part of the combo meal deal.

  “Tom,” said Carole, “I could make you feel real good in your big truck when we’re done here.”

  “I don’t think so, Carole. My wife takes care of all those needs, and I’m not looking for anything more, okay?”

  She was quiet for a moment and said, “Good. I’m glad you said that. I thought I could trust you, and now I’m sure.” Tom let out a sigh of relief, but he wasn’t sure where this conversation was going. She spoke again, “I didn’t know how you’ll take this, but the Death Angel is sitting in the chair next to you.”

  Tom was surprised, to say the least, but he was with Crazy Carole. “The Death Angel? What’s he look like?”

  “Well, he’s dressed in a black suit and pretty ordinary. I doubt you’d even notice him if you passed him on the street. You wanna know something else?”

  “Sure, why not.”

  “He says a breath of wind came out of nowhere and turned the bullet meant to kill you at the farm at Patterson Creek.” Tom looked at her suspiciously. Was she making this up? She could have deduced some of the details from the article in the Cumberland Times-News and be making up the rest. “He says the big Indian took the bullet meant for you in Vietnam.”

  Tom’s jaw dropped, and his eyes widened. How could she know? He knew he’d never told her anything about the battle at Ia Drang. There was no way she could know unless… “What else does he say?”

  “He says he was there. It was his job to make sure you were out of the way, and so far, he’s failed, but he’s waiting for the right time now.”

  A cold chill went down Tom’s back, and the hairs on his arms stood up. “Does he have anything else to say?”

  “He says he doesn’t understand humans. The same hand that caresses and serves can be a fist for hurting. He doesn’t understand why people are like they are, and he would really like a vacation, too. The dying is getting him down, but he has a job to do. Oh, he just left, but before he did, he said, ‘Noela Chateaux and just desserts.’”

  “Carole, you’re freakin’ me out with this. And what did he mean by Noela Chateaux and just desserts?”

  “I don’t know. Sometimes he’s pretty straight forward. Sometimes he’s very cryptic. I don’t know.” They sat in silence and finished their meals.

  When they were done, Tom got up and spoke, “Well, me lady,” he said in his best Cockney accent, “We’s best to be a-goin'. The King needs our labors and taxes.”

  She offered him her hand, he took it, and she rose from her seat. “Yes, we’s best to be off. For King and County,” she said in her best Cockney, too.

  Tom nodded to her, and they headed to the front of the store, and out the door they went. A man who looked homeless stood at the front of the store. A cigarette drooped from his lips, and he held a Styrofoam cup in his hand. Tom reached into his pocket for spare change and dropped it in the cup. “Hey, the man growled angrily. That was my morning coffee!”

  “Oh, sorry,” apologized Tom. He reached into his wallet and pulled out a $10 bill he gave to the grubby man.

  The man smiled and said, “Mister, you can do that again, anytime. I like the money. Better yet, just give me a $10 when you wanna drop your change in my coffee again.”

  Tom smiled. “Sure, I’ll remember that next time.” Tom and Carole walked over to his truck. He gave her a $20 bill and climbed into his vehicle. “You be careful, Carole.”

  “Will do, and thanks,” she replied. “I think you need to be more careful than me.” She had a somber look on her face.

  “I will,” Tom replied. He gave the truck some gas, crossed the parking lot, and pulled onto Greene Street. He looked into the rearview mirror and saw Carole waving goodbye. “You be careful,” he mouthed to himself. “And I think I’d better do that, too.”

  ***

  On the other side of Cumberland just east of the Crosstown Bridge, Officer Todd Bowman threaded his way down the shoulder of Interstate 68 to the wreck. He’d been enjoying his morning coffee and an egg with bacon biscuit at Mason’s Barn Restaurant a mile away when he got the call. No donuts for him. Traffic had backed up due to construction work on the crosstown bridge. Wasn’t that thing always under repair? And someone plowed into the back of a stopped big rig. He pulled the patrol car up behind the other Maryland State Police Crown Victoria patrol car and exited. Another officer was looking at the carnage. Todd recognized him as the new guy, Matt Mynheir, who had just transferred in from the Baltimore Division. Todd walked up to the other cop. “What have we got here, Matt?”

  “Not pretty, Todd. Some woman drove her car under the back of the eighteen-wheeler. Stuff’s everywhere, including her head in the back seat. Sheared it right off. Not too damaged though, the head that is. I’ve seen a lot worse.”

  The two troopers searched for information in the vehicle as to the identity of the dead woman. Todd found a clamshell cell phone open and still active. “Looks like she was texting when she hit the truck and eating a burger, too.” He looked at the severed head. “And smoking a cigarette. Some people must have a death wish.”

  “Did you find a wallet or a purse with some ID?” questioned Trooper Mynheir, as he attempted to open the trunk. “Got it,” he said as it opened. “Let’s see if I can find anything of interest in here.”

  “Hey, I found her purse,” said Trooper Bowman, “And it’s got a wallet in it. Let’s see. The driver’s license of the dearly departed says ‘Noela Chateaux.’ And I found another ID. It seems she worked for a mental unit here in the city.”

  “Noela Chateaux. I can’t believe it. When I worked in Baltimore, we had been trying for years to get her on charges for molesting children. The warrant for her arrest just came in a little while ago. We got the right one. Her trunk is full of kiddy porn, lots of older women with children doing all kinds of sick things.”

  Trooper Bowman walked back to the trunk and looked in. “Now, that is disgusting.” They closed the trunk, walked to the impact area, and surveyed the mess. Todd noted the truck was from McDonalds. The mural on the side of the truck had the classic golden arches and said, “New at McDonalds, Get your Just Desserts now, Strawberry and Cherry Flavors.”

  “Now, this is funny,” said Trooper Bowman.

  “What’s so funny about a headless dead woman?” asked the second trooper.

  “Look at the truck.”

  The second trooper did and chucked. “Now, I see. Looks like she got her just desserts alrighty.”

  “If you aren’t a sick puppy when you get this job, you will be shortly,” and with that comment, they both laughed. “Gonna be a long day clearing this mess up.” With that, the other man got his camera out of his patrol car and started taking pictures needed for the investigation of the accident. Yup, gonna be a long day.

  Chapter 16

  Tom was up early Monday morning, really early. It was not one of those nights where his PTSD caused him to toss and turn the whole time. No, he’d had a good, restful sleep. Sunday was a good day, and he taught at his little church on the Beatitudes. How well he remembered the actual site from his ten-day trip to the Holy Land sometime before. Sunday lunch was a feast fit for a king, made by Joann. A short nap, which he liked to call a “snap,” rounded out the afternoon. It was early evening when he received a phone call changing his plans for Monday. Doug, his son and manager of the bottled water business Tom started, called him. Buddy, one of their drivers and employees, called in with good and bad news. The good news, he was the proud father of a 7 pound 3-ounce baby boy. The bad news, they took the newborn back to the hospital because of jaundice. On the way home, he’d been rear-ended, and the car was totaled. He seemed to be unhurt, but he wanted to be checked thoroughly by a doctor, so he was taking a sick day. Doug shifted the deliveries with the men he knew would be coming in, but he was still short, and that’s where Tom came in. Doug had another call, one from White Tails Resort. Their two-day music festival had been a roaring su
ccess because of the great weather over the weekend. Attendance had far exceeded their expectations. They used all the extra bottled water Tom’s company supplied for the event and most of the remaining bottled water that was on site. They needed to be refilled ASAP.

  Tom ate a bowl of muesli and downed two cups of coffee, Chock Full o’ Nuts of course, to kick-start the morning. By 6:30, he had the big flat-bed loaded completely full with pallets of water. All he needed now was the paperwork, and he would be off. His cell phone in his pocket began to ring. He took it out and looked at the number on the caller ID. Why, it was his old friend Padre, the Father of the local Catholic Church. Wonder what he wanted?

  “Hello, Padre, long time no see. What’s up with you on your day off?” asked Tom.

  “Thought we might have breakfast and talk. You up for that?”

  “Sure am. I’ve got a water run, and I’m heading for Cumberland. Can you meet me somewhere there?”

  “Sure can. How ‘bout that new place in the south end, Rock of Ages Restaurant, I think it’s called.”

  “I know where it is, on Virginia Avenue across from the railroad roundhouse. I’ve not been in there, but have been told it’s good and reasonably priced.”

  “That’s the place. I have something I need to talk with you about.”

  “Thought that might be the case. My fee for pastoral consultation is breakfast, deal?”

  “Tom, you drive a hard bargain, but you work cheap. It’s a deal. I’ll be leaving the church in a minute, so I’ll be a little behind you, okay?”

  “Okay, I’ll find us a good table out of the way so we can talk without too many prying ears.”

  “Sounds like a plan, Tom. See you soon.”