Chapter Four
The hunters sat in the doughnut shop…
The hunters sat in the doughnut shop, bleary-eyed from the previous night’s exertions.
Having slept most of the day, the hangovers and exhaustion were mostly gone. They were burning the candle at both ends lately. They were all either unemployed, or underemployed, and very, very soon now the employment insurance benefits would start to run out.
Desperate to bag a cougar or a bear, whose body parts would fetch a good price from an Asian black market trader Jeff said he knew, Jeff and Slick had each taken a dog and carefully searched the whole canyon without picking up a scent.
Eventually, they concluded that maybe the big cat had slipped away by avoiding the slot entrance. It could have followed the base of the main escarpment to the southeast, although they didn’t pick up any sign of it. The base of the cliff was barren, water-splashed rocks, many freshly-split from the cliff face by the cycle of frost and thaw. No more tracks could be located in the occasional patches of snowdrift, the remainder of last week’s storm, sheltered from the sun by overhanging rocks and large trees that had been too inaccessible for last century’s log-cutting operations. It was also barely possible that he doubled back along the cliff to the northwest.
Since that was upwind, it seemed less likely. He could have back-tracked on top of his own scent though. Ted Hiltz’s eyebrows rose in recognition, and so they all turned to see who was coming in the front door. It was seven o’clock in the evening, and they were waiting for one or two stragglers, not to mention Harry Morden, who was designated for routine liquor store duty.
“Hey. Frenchie.” Slick called to the lone figure that stood stomping loose snow from his boots on the plastic-link anti-slip floor mat.
He was rewarded with a nod and simple wave of acknowledgement as Gagnon moved over to the counter where Shirley Batson awaited his arrival, absently mopping up coffee rings and doughnut crumbs.
“That cat definitely went in the canyon.” Hiltz was thinking out loud. “Otherwise why did the dogs go zooming in there? They must have caught a scent.”
It didn’t seem to make any sense, although everyone knew cats were smart.
McCabe shook his head. The life-long dog lover had plenty of experience at this kind of thing. They had hunted and fished around here since they were just boys skipping school.
“I don’t know. When they heard that guy in there, they could have just kept going on sound alone.” McCabe theorized. “They were pretty excited by that point.”
The boys were watching Gagnon as he got his coffee and turned to find himself a seat.
While it wasn’t exactly crowded, many tables were occupied by one or two customers, and he wanted to drop the knapsack for a while.
“So you didn’t see no big cats in there?” Hiltz asked in disbelief, as their glance met for a moment.
Gagnon just shrugged, and moved to the only empty table, which was right beside them.
Unbeknownst to the hunters, Constable Ricketts and Staff Sergeant Cournoyer were just coming in the side door. They slid into a seat at the back with a wave at Shirley.
She nodded and unhurriedly dropped a couple of meat patties on the grill. Along with the crackling sound of onions frying, the food began to put out its indescribable aroma. Slick thought about having a cheeseburger himself, but not yet. The guts were still trembling after all the drinking last night. He’d hit it pretty hard. As murmuring conversation sputtered and stopped all around them, he had another thought.
“That cougar definitely went in the canyon. Beats me how he got out, unless he went straight up the cliff.” Slick had to put in his own two cents worth.
He looked Gagnon over pretty hard, but the fellow didn’t look homeless. He didn’t have that smell—not yet, anyway. Although wood-smoke could be detected in his careful interpretation, it wasn’t unpleasant. Thinking back, the fellow was burning clean, dead, dry pine and cedar sticks, not wet, black, rotten stuff taken off the ground.
“But how come them dogs never caught a whiff?” McCabe was as mystified as anyone.
“Maybe the animal climbed a tree, and just sat there watching you guys.” A grinning Gagnon sipped coffee.
He was uninvited, but it wasn’t like they were all strangers now.
“Yeah. Your dogs ran right under his tree, and maybe he got away then. You followed the dogs when they saw me and went nuts.”
“That don’t make no sense.” Hiltz gaped, not the brightest light in the firmament, as people said around here. “Are you saying he went up a tree and then climbed up onto the cliff top?”
Shaking his head, he considered that one a while, all of them oblivious to the pair of cops sitting in the back corner, watching and listening in fascination. They’d been after these boys for some time, but for that you needed evidence, not just intelligence, not just a certainty of guilt.
“How come them boys up there never caught a whiff?” Hiltz asked in a plaintive tone.
“I’m saying it dropped down and went back out the gap.” Gagnon explained with a patient look. “You and your animals were all concerned with me.”
Hiltz suddenly got the idea, rocking his head back in revelation.
At that moment some intuitive premonition caused Slick to look over into the corner.
Wilson was thinking of going to the bathroom, and while he didn’t talk about it, he had shy kidneys. He liked to be alone in there when possible, in order to relax and get the flow started.
Catching sight of the Sergeant and the Constable, he jabbed Hiltz in the ribs before he could speak again. The whole crew noticed the sudden tension, and they turned for a furtive look. The Sergeant gazed back with an indulgent grin, as ground beef snapped and spattered on the grill. Sheepishly, they all turned back to examine their coffee cups.
“That smells awful good, ma’am.” Gagnon engaged Shirley with those dark eyes. “How much for one of them things?”
Gagnon was oblivious to the by-play, with his back half turned and being between the hunters and the police.
“It’s not actually on the menu. But if you promise not to tell head office.” She smiled into the dark and frankly handsome stranger’s eyes. “Three bucks and I’m not making any money at that price.”
Shirley was divorced, and in a town of thirteen thousand, there weren’t too many good prospects she hadn’t dated before. This one was an unknown quantity. A little young for her, maybe—
“You can rely on me, ma’am.” She grinned at that. “Tabernac. I’d give you four bucks, for one of them things.”
A number of the customers chuckled appreciatively.
Ten seconds later the sound of a frozen patty hitting the grill rewarded his charm.
Shirley was a good old girl. This place was the only eatery open at this time of night in winter for miles, although in summer there were a few of the more pretentious bistros, to take in some of the tourist dollars they were all coming to rely on more and more since the mill shut down.
In a town like Scudmore, you took your entertainment where you found it.
END
Images. Effects by Louis.
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Thank you for reading and stuff like that.
