2: Garagemen and Whoopers, by Cadlin

 

Murder and Mayhem at Cherry Creek Episode 2 By Cadlin

 

 

Garagemen and Whoopers

 

    Judd Hansen tore away up the road like his beat-up old Studebaker pickup had forgot it was a tubercular antique. From the opposite direction came the sudden wail of a siren, which cut off as suddenly as it had started. Except for a noisy flock of egrets, all was quiet again. Then a moment later came a long plaintive wail. Then nothing. The quiet was pregnant with what might be coming next. What came was a long, climbing and descending moan of siren.

 

         The sonic insults continued with each outburst sounding a little nearer. Moments later a brand spanking new patrol car came purring into view. The patrol car pulled over just where Judd's Studebaker had been a minute before. As the driver braked to a stop, the red and blue lights leapt to life, the siren started to wail. It was like a poor mans version of "Close encounters of the third kind," then it all stopped.

 

          The passenger opened his door and climbed out to a new chorus of light and sound effects. He shut the door and all was quiet except for the deep, intimidating purr of the high performance engine under the hood. The driver open his door and stepped out. Show time again. He slammed his door and the show closed early.

 

          "Scotty, wasn't that young Judd went tearin' up the road from here like he'd just remembered his wife got home yesterday?"

 

          "I do believe it was, Cad," Scotty said. He scratched the back of his neck. His hands were dark with the more or less deep creviced and permanent stains of a mechanic. Both he and Cadlin were dressed in dark blue, oil stained coveralls. Cadlin had a red grease-rag hanging from a back pocket.

 

          The boys' great-grandpas had been lawmen back when the town was young, same with their grandfathers. But their fathers left the deputing business and opened the Town’s first garage and used buggy lot. They figured they could make more money fixing the County's broken vehicles and equipment than its broken laws. Especially since they and their forebears were the primary breakers of both the laws and the County's property.

 

          That first garage their fathers opened hadn't been much more than a half-built barn, but the city fathers of Cherry Creek immediately awarded them a civic improvement award. The then very young Ambrose Ewelle "Pumpkin" Faulk guaranteed them a large enough line of credit from his newly inherited bank to insure the garage would succeed. And also to insure they'd stay out of both his and the law's business.

 

          "Sheriff Pat is expectin' to take delivery of this car come lunchtime," Scotty said as he resettled a small black welder's cap atop his head. "And I don't thinks he's gonna be too happy with all these lights and sirens popin' on and off ever' time he touches something."

 

          "That's no problem," Cadlin answered. "Guess I shouldn't of cut off that switch and wired it on the back side of the battery ground." Cadlin stretched his long lanky frame. "Wonder what young Judd was in such a hurry about?"

 

          "Probably thought the Sheriff was comin' to bust him for fishin' this here Federal pond," Scotty laughed.

 

          "Hell," Cadlin coughed and spat. "Sheriff Pat uses Judd's secret hole behind the bushes his own self," Cadlin said. "Only person in the county that thinks that hole is a secret is Judd." Cadlin sniffed his nostrils clear, coughed the flam and spat. "Ain't nobody but a black sedan FBI cop mean enough to arrest a fella for fishin' where he's been fishin' since he was a kid."

 

          Scotty's eyes lit up. "You reckon maybe he caught old Methuselah? Maybe that's why he was pourin' on the coal."

 

          Cadlin looked at Scotty and grimaced. "Scotty, the only way anybody's ever gonna get that catfish is with a harpoon cannon. Why, just last week old Pumpkin Faulk hooked into it and then said goodbye to his five-hundred dollar fishin' rig."

 

          "Yeah, that's right," Scotty nodded. "What made him think he needed a genuine, titanium cased, Garcia spinning reel is beyond me." Scotty smiled and added with a wink, "But we did make a good profit on that deal."

 

          "Yes sir," Cadlin smiled. "Amazing what a little paint remover and some gun bluing can accomplish."

 

          The boys looked out over the lake for a bit. Cadlin checked his pocket watch. Damn, he thought, don't dare to go fishin' now. "Come on Scotty," he barked. "We gotta get this car back to the shop and do some rewirin'."

 

          They climbed inside to a chorus of lights and sound. Cadlin backed the car around and braked. The show lit up again. He shifted into drive and released the foot brake. The show closed. The cruiser slowly headed back down the road. A sweet, spicy scent drifted from the grass with the morning mist. An egret ran along the lakeshore, opened its wings and pulled itself into the deep blue sky. From down the road came the occasional fury of siren.