One Lane Bridge: A Novel Page 6
“You found a farmhouse and a family one day, and the next they were all gone. What exactly are you trying to tell me?”
“What I’m really trying to tell you is what I haven’t actually told you yet. If you think I’m ready for the nut bin now, wait till you hear the rest of it. I went back again. That time I was able to cross over and this teenage girl—her name is Lizzie—told me what year it was while I was out there. It was 1940 the first time I went and 1942 the second time. And then when I cross back over that bridge, heading home, it’s now again.”
Jack stared straight into his eyes and said, “Hey, you’re Michael J. McFly. and you just cracked the time barrier. Is that what you’re telling me?”
“Yeah, something like that—except I’m not kidding. I’m dead serious. I was there, and I talked to these people, and I went back the second time and saw them again. Jack, you know how we’ve talked so many times about how we’d like to go back in time, and if we could where we’d like to go to and what we’d like to see?”
Jack leaned back in his worn, high-back desk chair and crossed his hands in his lap. “Yes, my friend, but we were playing a game of what-if.”
They heard a bell ring, and Jack stood up. “I’ve got a customer. Wait here.”
J. D. sat in misery while his friend took Mrs. Marguerite Troller’s empty bottle of Atenolol and told her it would be ready in thirty minutes. Then just as he was about to come back up the steps, someone else came in looking for Zeasorb powder and an ear syringe. All of this took only four minutes, but to J. D. it seemed an hour. When Jack was finished, he came back to the office, closed the door, and said in a low voice, “Okay, so what if I believe you? What do we do?”
Not “what do you want me to do” or “what are you going to do,” but “what do we do.” Jack Hamish was a true friend.
“I know how crazy all this sounds, Jack, and I appreciate you listening. Here’s the deal. The girl is sick. She ran a nail through her foot. All the way through it. And there’re lines already starting up her leg. And that’s bad, isn’t it?”
Jack was as serious now as his friend across the desk. “Could be septicemia.”
“What’s that?”
“Blood poisoning.”
“One day on this side of the bridge equaled two years on the other side. If that holds, the girl will be dead before we can get to her. I just have to hope and pray that part of it doesn’t hold. Her daddy wouldn’t let me bring her with me to see a doctor, but he can’t refuse medicine if I take it out there and give it to her. Well, I suppose he could. He could fight me giving it to her, but I would have to find a way to do it anyway and worry about the consequences later.” J. D. paused and looked at his friend. “What medicine do I take her?”
Jack rubbed his head with both hands and said, “Some form of PCN.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m sorry. Penicillin.”
“Talk to me in simple terms.”
“Well, there’re all kinds of penicillin. You could find a doctor and ask him for a prescription for, I don’t know, benzylpenicillin for instance. He could give her a heavy dose of that, and that should take care of her.”
J. D. looked at his old friend long and hard. The silence across the desk was finally broken when the pharmacist said, “What? What else do you want me to do?”
“Get a doctor?” J. D. asked sarcastically. “Go back over the bridge and find a doctor in 1942, and get him to give me a prescription, and then go somewhere and get it filled? Is that what you’re saying I need to do?”
Jack was waving his hand in the air. “Wait. Go back. Did you say 1942?”
“Yeah,” J. D. said, more as an angry commentary on Jack’s attitude than as an answer.
“There was no penicillin in 1942. Not for the public, anyway. It had just been discovered and introduced to the U.S., but it was all being used on the soldiers. The public saw hardly any of it till after the war. This girl is not apt to get a prescription as there probably is none to be had on the home front, if you follow what I’m saying.”
“Jack, if you follow what I’m saying, none of that matters. I’m not going to look for a doctor back there. I’m going to take the medicine with me in my pocket. All I need is for you to go over to one of these shelves and give me a bottle of whatever you think will work, and we’re in business.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Not gonna happen, amigo. I don’t give drugs to friends, and you know that. Never have. Never will.”
“And I’ve never asked you for any. But you have to admit this is kind of a special situation.”
“‘Special situation’ is an understatement, old friend. It’s a crazy situation and a crazy request. And if anyone else came to me with this story, I’d report them and have them locked up before lunchtime.”
“So you think I’m crazy too?”
“Of course I think you’re crazy, and apparently someone else does also or you wouldn’t have said ‘too.’”
“Karlie.”
“Good woman.”
And then everything came to a standstill. The little office above Alden’s Drugs was silent, and the two friends, who had never run out of something to talk about in forty years, were suddenly mute. Neither moved, and neither blinked. J. D. was the one with the most to lose, so he spoke first.
“Will you help me?”
“Do what?”
“Will you give me a bottle of penicillin?”
“No. But I’ll go out there with you and take a bottle.”
“Thank you, buddy. You don’t know what this means to me.”
Jack shook his head and smiled. “You want to go right after lunch?”
It was J. D.’s turn to shake his head. “No. We can’t go until after supper. We need to arrive at the bridge at exactly twenty minutes after seven. I think that’s why Karlie and I couldn’t find it. I think it has to be a certain time of the day.”
“You really are crazy, aren’t you, J. D.?”
J. D. stood up to leave, and they shook hands. Something they seldom did. As he went out the door of the office, he said over his shoulder, “You’re the Jonathan to my David. I owe you one.”
“Big time,” Jack assured him.
“I’ll pick you up at six forty-five.”
Chapter Nine
Katherine Kimball was the first employee J. D. and Karlie had hired over five years before when they opened the Dining Club Restaurant on the west end of Hanson. She was there when the original kitchen equipment was installed and had worked late nights with the two of them, setting up the tables and booths, hanging the light fixtures, and finding the old train photos that decorated the walls. She had cooked when the kitchen help was sick, waited tables when waitresses quit without warning, and all the time kept up the duties of hostess on any shift where she was needed. Two years ago when they found the spot on Main for their second location, she had managed the west end alone while Karlie and J. D. set up the new restaurant. Then she had come to the downtown Dining Club as the morning hostess and had given them the time they needed to see to both branches of their dream. Katherine was fifty years old and had been a single mother since her twin sons were ten years of age. Her husband had left her one night without even a note of explanation while she was working as a waitress at one of the oldest dining rooms in town. Restaurants had been her life, and that was why the Wickmans sought her out when they decided to go into business for themselves. She had been their pillar, and they had known her and her family most of their lives. If Katherine were the one stealing money from the cashbox, it would break their hearts on more than one level. Still, they had no choice but to treat her the same as the other two in the present situation.
Lottie Arello was not a classmate of either Karlie or J. D., but they had known her since high school. She was a few years behind them and had moved away from Hanson right after graduation. She lived and worked in Charlotte for a while, where she met her husband, and they had moved back to the area four years ago
to be close to her aging parents. Randy, her husband, had taken on two jobs to make up for the income they lost by relocating to a smaller town, and eventually Lottie realized she, too, would have to get a job. She had run into Karlie at the morning YMCA aerobics class they both attended and asked if there was any chance of getting hired on at the restaurant. At the time there were no openings, but Karlie told her she would keep her in mind. When the Main Street Dining Club was about to open, Karlie remembered and hired her without asking for references. She had always been a good worker and was never late and never short with customers. In fact, many of the regulars bragged on what a nice and personable person she was and always asked to be seated in her area. If Lottie was their culprit, J. D. knew Karlie would take it even harder than if it was Katherine.
Crystal Gleason had only been there nine months. She was nineteen years old. Pretty. Slim. Short blonde hair. Glasses. And teeth that smiled even when she didn’t. She charmed just by walking up to the table. Every young boy and old man wanted Crystal to wait on them. They joked with her, and she gave it back with good humor and an easy laugh. Truth be known, she was the highest-tipped waitress they had at either location. She was attentive to a fault and kept her tables and the floor area spotless, even after a table with tots had trashed the chairs and the hardwood oak underfoot. Crystal dated no one in particular but always preferred the morning shift so she could have her evenings free for whatever nightlife she enjoyed. They rarely saw her out except at an occasional movie with a group of friends. College was not in her future, but it was easy to see that marriage to whomever she might choose was. She exuded personality and sweetness. If her hands were in the till, she was going to disappoint a lot of people, young and old.
J. D. and Karlie sat in their back booth saying little to each other. The giant railroad-watch clock on the wall over the front door said it was 12:40 p.m. The uneasy silence between them made J. D. wonder if Karlie was having the same thoughts he was having … but neither of them was expressing them out loud. Their silence was broken at twelve forty-five when Bobby Caywood came in the front door and took a seat in the first booth on the right. Seconds later, J. D.’s cell phone rang.
“How do you want to do this? I have the warrants in my pocket. I can stop them as they’re going out the front or back door and take them in your office, or you and Karlie can do it. Or we can all three do it together. It’s your call.”
“Karlie and I will take care of it.”
“Okay. I’ll stay here, and if anyone refuses to let you look in their purse or search their person, you just open the office door and I’ll come back with the warrants.”
“I hope we won’t need to do it that way.”
“Me, too. But don’t be surprised at whatever happens. You trap something, and it’s bound to fight back. There may be a scene. So be ready for that.”
“I know. I’ll go tell them that we want to see them before they leave.”
“No. Don’t do it yet. Wait till the last minute. Wait till they’re ready to go out the door. You don’t want to give anybody the chance to ditch the evidence. You’ve got to find it on them. Understand?”
“Yes.”
“Ask Karlie if she understands, and tell her to nod to me. It’s important we’re all on the same page here.”
J. D. hung up the phone, leaned into the table, and related all this to his wife. She looked across the restaurant at Caywood and nodded her approval without a smile or any show of emotion. The chase was on.
Katherine stopped at their booth to say good-bye.
“You kids look a little haggard today. Up all night sparrin’ or sparkin’?”
“A little of both,” J. D. managed. Karlie hung her head and said nothing. He knew she wasn’t going to be able to pull this off. Her heart was not in it. She loved Katherine like a favorite aunt. Maybe her way was best, after all. Just tell them outright what was going on and make it stop instead of trying to find out who the thief was. But it was too late now.
“Katherine.” J. D. struggled with his breathing. Confronting someone with bad news was always harder than he thought it would be. Especially when it was someone he liked and respected. “Katherine, we need to see you in the office before you leave.” He got up and walked to the office door in the back.
Katherine looked at Karlie, who was sliding out of the booth with her eyes averted. She looked from one to the other and said, “Sure,” and walked in front of Karlie, past J. D., who was holding the door.
He looked toward the kitchen and saw Crystal gathering her sweater and purse from behind the counter. He figured Lottie must be somewhere in the kitchen.
“Crystal. We need to see you in the office before you leave.”
She looked up and, with the same pleasant smile she always carried, said, “All right.”
Just then Lottie came out of the kitchen with her handbag and a Styrofoam sandwich container in her hand.
“Lottie, can I see you in the office for a minute?”
Without a word of consent she walked past him and through the door but stopped when she saw the other three women already standing inside. She turned and said to J. D., “What’s going on?”
“We need to talk to you. Come on in so I can close the door.”
She did, and they all three stood with Karlie and looked to J. D. for some sort of instruction or explanation.
“Sit down. All of you. Find a chair someplace.”
Katherine was the first to speak. “What’s up, J. D.?”
“This is not easy for me. For us. But it has to be done. We have a little problem. And we have narrowed it down to the morning shift. I don’t know how to say it except to just say it. We have money missing and a lot of it.”
Two of the women gasped, and for the life of him he couldn’t tell which two. He was pretty sure it was Crystal and Lottie. But did it matter? Surprise could make them gasp, and by this time the guilty party would know what was happening and could have faked a gasp. He was about to continue when Karlie spoke up from where she was standing behind them.
“Katherine, Lottie, Crystal, we have been watching this for some time now, and we know that someone, and we’re pretty sure it’s someone in this room, has been taking money from the cash box in the mornings. The last thing in the world we want is to hurt anyone’s feelings. And as sure as someone is guilty, we know that probably two are innocent, and we realize what a chance we’re taking here … but we know no better way to do this.”
The last five words of her sentence were barely audible. Tears were standing in Karlie’s eyes, and her voice was shaking. She was doing what she had promised to do with as much conviction as she could muster. J. D. was proud of her and felt a need to rescue her.
“What Karlie is saying is we are doing what we have to do. It makes us both sick to have to do it, but we didn’t ask for any of this to happen. I wish we had another room where we could go and do this privately, but we don’t. So I am going to ask each of you to open your purses and let us look through them and your pockets.”
Lottie spoke up. “And if we refuse to let you search us like common criminals?”
“Then we’ll do it legal. We have a police officer on the premises with warrants. We don’t want to do that unless we have to. Unless you force us to.” J. D. was as firm and friendly as he could be with the little bit of anger that was seeping into his voice at Lottie’s challenge. He looked at each of the ladies in question and said, “Who wants to go first?”
Nobody moved. Nobody volunteered. Crystal looked at Katherine for guidance. Katherine turned and looked at Karlie, and Lottie continued to glare at J. D.
“J. D., I can’t believe you’re doing this,” Katherine said as she opened her purse and dumped the contents onto the desktop. Lipstick, compact, notepads, ballpoint pens, loose change, and a billfold hit the ink blotter and scattered.
“Open up the billfold and take the bills out, Katherine.” J. D. waited for her to do as she was asked, but she didn’t budge.
“You’ve gone this far. You take it out yourself.” She was defiant and angry.
“Katherine, I’m not going into your billfold. If you insist on doing it this way, we’ll bring the police into it. I’ll have Caywood step in here and make it official.”
Karlie spoke through her tears and pleaded, “Please, Katherine. Just do it yourself, and don’t make this any harder on any of us.”
Without looking up, Katherine Kimball reached down, took the money from her billfold, and placed the bills one by one the desk as if she were counting money back to a customer. Four twenties, one five, and four ones. Eighty-nine dollars.
“Do you want to see the change?” she asked with a sarcastic tone.
“No,” J. D. assured her. “Put it back in your purse.”
“Wait. Don’t you want to frisk me?”
“Katherine, please,” Karlie pleaded again.
“Crystal. Lottie. One of you go next,” J. D. demanded more than asked.
Crystal stepped toward the desk and dumped her oversized Gucci rip-off on the same spot where Katherine had just retrieved her belongings. The contents were similar to Katherine’s, plus a packet of tissues and car keys and loose bills on top of the pile. The loose bills had been in the bottom of the purse.
“Why do you have loose money in your purse like that, Crystal?”
“Tips. I keep my purse behind the counter and just stick my tips in there ’cause I don’t have any pockets.”
“Count it out like Katherine did.”
She began turning over each bill, fives and ones galore. There on six twenties and three ten-dollar bills were the little circles and the little crosses that J. D. and Bobby had etched with a Magic Marker just sixteen hours before. Only J. D. and Karlie knew the significance of those tiny marks. They glanced at each other, but neither said a word. J. D.’s first instinct was to call off the search. The thief had been found. But then better sense prevailed, and he realized it was entirely possible that two people could be guilty. So he simply told Crystal to gather her things and then turned to Lottie, who followed suit without a word. Her purse was sparse, carrying no makeup and no pens. She had keys and a small change purse that housed her driver’s license and three folded tens, six fives, and ten one-dollar bills. She spread them out one by one and then stood looking off into space until J. D. told her to put everything back in her bag.