A Touch of Death Ch. 03

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Like its neighbors, the beige house had seen better days, but at least the paint on the walls looked recent. Even the bushes around the house were trimmed and the walk had been swept. A beat up, rust colored Pinto graced the driveway so maybe I'd get lucky and find Mister Wallace home.

The front door was open and led into what looked more like someone's living room than their office. The furniture was old and well-used, scratched, scrapped, and dented. The cheap panel walls were graced by bland knock-offs of real art. There was no one in sight but I heard a voice murmuring from somewhere deeper in the house.

I knocked on the frame. "Hello? Is anyone home?"

"I'm in back. Come on in," a high, reedy male voice shouted back.

The air in the house felt musty and stale. I could almost see the dust puffing off the carpet with every step I took. Yuck. The guy should take a look at the environment in his own house before he started lecturing people about the Tahoe basin.

I went through the living room and into a short hall leading to the kitchen and other rooms in the rear of the house. The murmuring became one half of a phone conversation by the man who'd called me back. I stopped inside the doorway and gave my host a good look.

If it were the sixties I'd have called him a hippie. Since it wasn't, I'll just say he was in desperate need of a shave and a haircut. The man I assumed was Wallace was seated at the kitchen table talking on an old rotary phone. He was tall, thin, and young. No more than his early twenties I'd guess. He was dressed in jeans with the knees torn out and a ragged black tee-shirt extolling the virtues of heavy metal music. He wasn't smoking, but the room reeked of pot. All he'd have to do was flash me the peace sign and the image would be perfect.

"I'm tellin' you, Dude," he told the person on the other end of the phone while he doodled on a Big Chief notepad, "I was standin' as close to him as I am to you." He winked at me, making me blink.

The response, though audible, was indistinct.

"Okay," he said, "as close to him as I would be to you if you were here. Hey, I have someone here. Let me call you back. Later."

The bell inside the phone jangled as he dropped the handset on its cradle. "Hey. Pull up a chair." He gestured to the metal-legged chair beside the table. The seat was torn and the stuffing poked out. Great.

I gingerly sat down. "Are you Mister Wallace? I'm looking for Save Tahoe Basin."

He grinned, showing me teeth stained with tar from smoking God knows what. "You've hit the jackpot, little lady. I'm Jake Wallace and this is the executive office of Save Tahoe Basin. What can I do for you?"

Little lady. I hated that phrase, so I was sure my smile was little brittle at this point.

"I'm Candice and I wanted to talk with you about something I heard. Word's going around that someone is going to salvage the S.S. Tahoe."

His smile died instantly and he scowled. "Man, that's a load of bullshit! That rich dude thinks he can just waltz in here and deflower Lake Tahoe like that!"

I almost asked him if Lake Tahoe was a virgin but decided it would only cloud the issue. "I don't know much," I admitted, "but it sounds... troubling. I hear you called him on it and wanted to get the scoop."

He banged his fist onto the tabletop hard enough to make the phone handset bounce off the phone and clatter on the scarred linoleum. "That stuck up cocks..." He trailed off and looked at me again. "Er, butthole is going to tear up the whole bottom of Lake Tahoe and destroy a historic piece of history! We've got to stop him!"

"An historic," I said automatically. With Lake Tahoe being twenty-two by twelve miles I didn't think anything but a nuclear weapon could cause that much damage. In any case, I doubted Ty would be party to anything destructive. He was being paid to lift the ship so it could be restored, right? "What happened when you talked to him last night?"

He frowned. "An historic? That doesn't sound right."

I shrugged. "I'm pretty sure. Sorry, please go on."

"Yeah, well, I went up to that Inn and denuded that bastard in front of all his cronies. That didn't sit too well so some hag had me tossed out. Dude, she sure had a broom up her you-know-what."

I mentally swapped denounced for denuded and nodded. "That fits her all the way to the ground. She's a real bitch," I commiserated with him. "She's probably frigid. What's next to stop the project?"

He shook his head vigorously in agreement. "Right on. So now we like call around and raise awareness and picket his house. Oh, and get up a petition to send to the Governator."

"Um... Governor Schwarzenegger is in California. This is Nevada."

He grinned at me. "Sure, but the ship is on the bottom on the California side. One way or the other, we'll stop the dude cold."

I mentally smacked my own forehead. He was right. I should've remembered that. "Really? Um, did you hear something happened to him last night?"

He nodded with a smile. "I happened to him. I waited for him to come out after the party and I really showed him who was boss. That project is as good as dead."

"Speaking of dead," I said delicately, "you do know he died last night, right?"

He stared at me for a moment, his expression uncomprehending. "Say what?"

"He washed up on the beach this morning, dead." I sat back and watched him turn as pale as a ghost.

He abruptly leapt to his feet, sending his chair tumbling to the floor. "Shit! No way!" He stared at my face like a blind man reading a Braille menu.

"It's true. I saw him myself. After the scenes you and Edward Stanton made last night, I'm surprised the Sheriff's Department hasn't already stopped by to chat."

He stared at me for one long moment, spun on his heel, and headed out the front door. "I just remembered somewhere I need to be. I need to leave right now."

I didn't see much point in arguing so I let him herd me out the front door.

He almost pushed me to the driveway and threw himself into his car. The car started with a roar and he backed out with a harsh squeak of tires before peeling rubber on his way out of the subdivision.

12
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  • COMMENTS
6 Comments
chytownchytownabout 2 months ago

*****Very entertaining storyline. Thanks for sharing.

rightbankrightbankover 7 years ago
Not keeping her own counsel

could cause trouble. But that's also what makes this so interesting.

AnonymousAnonymousalmost 15 years ago
Oh......nice!

This chapter, in addition to being an intriguing continuation of the story, is actually pretty damn funny! The bit about "not too many" cars on blocks may well be the ultimate example of condemnation by faint praise. Great story!

-- KK in Texas

AnonymousAnonymousalmost 15 years ago
grammar corrected

Great stuff so far, and not only because you correctly used "an" with "historic".

One hopes you can laugh at being wrongly told off for doing so by someone who then goes on to misspell both "it's" and "consonant". Always good to see someone who lives in a glass house throwing bricks.

AnonymousAnonymousalmost 15 years ago
grammar

sorry the first guy got it right its a historic not an historic, you only use an if the next word starts with a vowel and h is a constonant, only minor but it distracted me from the plot which i am enjoying so far.

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