Clickers. Part 4

Deputy Rusty stopped and turned to Rick. "Why don't you have a seat. I'm gonna go in the drugstore and find Lee. Have yourself some coffee."

"Okay." Rick retreated back into the coffee shop and slid onto a stool at the end of the counter. He could still feel the unmistakable sense of eyes lighting on him and turning away as the men in the room resumed conversation. They were still keeping an eye on him, though. After all, he wasn't from around these parts.

A pretty blonde girl in a pink waitress uniform approached him from behind the counter. She smiled warmly at him. "What can I get you?"

Rick ordered coffee and the waitress served it p.r.o.nto. "Cream and sugar?" She looked at him shyly. Her hair fell in blonde ringlets over her forehead and down her shoulders. Her eyes were as blue as the sea, her dimpled face punctuated by a smiling mouth and a cute nose. Her body didn't look that bad beneath the waitress uniform; her skirt was mid-thigh length, showing off tanned, muscular-yet-shapely legs. She reminded Rick of Alicia Silverstone; she had the same All-American girl looks. She was blonde, young, cute, but did not give the impression that she was hot-to-trot or flirtatious. When she turned to pick up an order off the counter, Rick couldn't resist a peek at her rear. Nice. Rick sipped at his coffee. It was nice and hot. Just the way he liked it. The waitress came back and flashed him a big smile. "You new around here?"

Rick nodded, grinning. "Just came in town."

"I'm Melissa Peterson. But some folks around here call me Missy." She held out her hand and Rick took it.

"Rick Sychek. Nice to meet you."

"Likewise."

"What brings you to town?"

"I'm working on a book," Rick began. "I'm a writer and..." And the story came out, an abridged version of how he came to decide to settle in Phillipsport for the winter for his new book. Melissa seemed very interested and when he was finished she smiled.

"That sounds great. I'm a Journalism major at Bridgton Community College. Looks like now there'll be somebody in town I'll have something in common with."

"Absolutely." Rick took a sip of his coffee.

Melissa noticed a customer beckoning to her from the rear of the coffee shop. "Duty calls," she said. She exited the counter and went over to tend to her duties. Rick settled on the counter, drinking his coffee and wondering how much of the day was left that was salvageable to do something constructive.

His thoughts were broken by the arrival of Rusty and an older, gray-haired gentleman dressed in a red and blue plaid shirt and blue jeans. Rusty patted Rick on the back as he approached the counter. "Rick. This here's Lee Shelby, the owner of Shelby's Drug Store. Lee, this here's Rick."

A round of pleased to meet ya's was traded and Lee Shelby scratched his head and scowled. "Rusty tells me that you went down into a ditch off Highway 1. Says you swerved in the road to avoid hitting something."

Rick nodded, suddenly remembering the giant crab-like thing in the road. He took another sip of coffee. "Yeah. It was just right there and I didn't know what it was. I tried to avoid hitting it and lost control."

Lee peered at him curiously. "Looks like you got a b.u.mp on the head. Doc Jorgensen take care of you?"

Rick nodded. "It was nothing serious. Just a scalp wound."

"Doug is filling your prescription order," Lee said. He clapped Rick on the back and grinned. "I know it's a h.e.l.luva welcome to town, crashing into Little Feet and all, but I really do hope your first experience in town doesn't change your mind about staying."

"Accidents happen." Rick shrugged matter-of-factly. "I'm just glad I made it to town in one piece."

Lee and Rusty chuckled, prompting a grin to emerge from Rick's face. "Welcome to Phillipsport, son," Lee said. His grin was wide and genuine. He was truly glad that Rick was new in town.

Rusty took a seat at the counter next to Rick and Melissa came and took his order. Lee joined them from the other side of the counter and the three men chatted for a few minutes while Melissa tended to the other customers. Lee excused himself after a minute and went to attend to some other business. Rusty began talking with somebody in the booth closest to him; his back was turned to the counter, talking in his excited tone as Rick sat at the counter nursing his cup of coffee. Melissa came back and poured him another cup. Their eyes locked for the briefest instant, then she looked down at the counter. "You live around here?" Rick asked.

"I live in town," she said. She began wiping the counter idly with a wash rag.

"Is this considered *town'?"

She laughed. "Rusty sure considers this town," she said, stealing a quick glance at the deputy who was paying them no heed in his conversation with the men in the booth. "He loves it here."

"Yeah, it has all the comforts of a big city mall."

Melissa stopped wiping down the counter and leaned against it nonchalantly. Her eyes locked with his again, more firmly. "To answer your question, I live off Fir Street, which is off the main drag. That's the section the old timers refer to as *in town.'"

"Which is...?"

"About five minutes from here."

"Ah."

"And you?"

"Don't know yet. I haven't even been to where I'm supposed to be settling in for the winter."

They were so involved in their conversation and their flirting with each other that they didn't notice the door to the drugstore opening, the new customer sauntering in. It wasn't until Melissa's eyes moved toward the newcomer and her expression changed from smiling and flirtatious to a look of dread-like a child who has just been discovered misbehaving and knows the consequences-that Rick realized somebody was approaching them.

The neighboring patrons continued on with their drinks, food, and conversation as the new man now sidled up next to Rick with a cold, c.o.c.ky look. His steel gray eyes flicked from Rick to Melissa and back to Rick again. He was wearing a Highway Patrol uniform similar to Rusty's, but seemed to carry more of a demeanor of authority. His badge read SHERIFF.

Rusty turned at the approach of the newcomer and recognition flickered across his features. He clapped Rick on the back. "Sheriff Conklin, this here's Rick Sychek. Rick's a real famous writer and he's gonna be-"

While Rusty launched into his litany, Sheriff Conklin looked at Rick with stony features. Scrutinizing him.

"-staying in Phillipsport, and-"

"He's the one that wiped out on Highway 1." Not a question, but merely a statement of facts. Sheriff Conklin's voice was gritty. Rick felt the man's gray eyes light on him, marking him.

"Why, he sure did!" Rusty admitted this in a tone that was eager and jubilant. It was almost like Rusty was saying, Well G.o.dd.a.m.n, he sure did! And isn't that just great!

Sheriff Conklin snickered and shook his head. His eyes went from Melissa, who turned away, back to Rick. "Wiped out in a little patch of rain. What the h.e.l.l were you doing, boy? Playing speed racer?"

"I-" Rick began.

"He weren't speedin', sir," Rusty said, grinning. "No sirree."

Sheriff Conklin acted like he hadn't heard Rusty. He leaned toward Rick, his features set in a perpetual scowl. "Not speedin, huh? Well, then, why'd you spin out, boy? Been drinkin?"

Rick opened his mouth to protest. He looked at Melissa who flashed him a brief smile of encouragement. Conklin caught the brief exchange and his features darkened. A pall of what appeared to be jealousy flickered briefly over his features and then was gone. His features became stony. He huffed. "Speedin' on Highway 1 in a rain storm is a misdemeanor offense. Not to mention crashing into the trees; Little Feet is five hundred years old and you done ruined her." He moved toward Rick. "I got a good mind to write you a ticket for that."

Rick opened his mouth to protest but Lee Shelby beat him to the punch. The owner of Shelby's drug store had heard the exchange and now he was stepping up to the counter. "You've got to be kidding! This kid was involved in an honest accident. He wasn't driving recklessly."

Conklin flashed Lee a smirk. "Did you investigate the scene?"

"No," Lee Shelby sputtered.

"Then keep out of this." Sheriff Conklin turned back to Rick. His features were unemotional. "As for you..."

Rick's heart had begun to beat fast at the mention of a ticket; it began to beat faster at the tone of the Sheriff's voice. He had had run-ins with cops like Sheriff Conklin before. If you weren't a middle-of-the-road White Anglo Saxon Male Protestant, cops like Sheriff Conklin would pull you over for anything, just for the chance to hara.s.s you in the hopes of making an arrest. It didn't matter that you didn't commit an infraction, what mattered was that you were either a long haired, drug snorting, hippie-commie sc.u.m, or you were an earring-wearing f.a.ggot who was a little bit too feminine, or you were black, or Oriental, or Mexican, or whatever. If you fit any of the above, you were subject to unnecessary search and seizures from officers like Sheriff Conklin. Rick had once had two previous run-ins in Philadelphia with cops like Conklin; one of them ended with Rick spending the night in jail for resisting arrest. The charges had been dropped later because there hadn't been any to begin with. The officer stopped him because he had long hair and surely he must be either carrying drugs, or was under their influence. Rick had protested and spent the night in jail.

Ever since that night Rick had thought about the situation and decided that should he find himself in a similar situation, he would handle it differently. He even rehea.r.s.ed various scenarios in his mind. Now that Sheriff Conklin, the spitting image of the other two a.s.shole cops that had hara.s.sed him for similar reasons, was in front of him just egging him on into a similar confrontation, he switched to this tactic effortlessly. His features softened. "Gee, Sheriff Conklin, but I'm really sorry about the accident. I'm even more sorry about the tree. If there's anything that I can do to help..." he shrugged his shoulders. "Anything I can do to help in the treatment of... Little Feet was the tree's name?"

Sheriff Conklin scowled at him. "That's right."

"Well if there's anything I can do to help in Little Feet's treatment, I'd be more than happy to do it." He swept a hand around the counter where Rusty, Lee Shelby and Melissa were gathered, watching the confrontation. "Everybody's been real helpful to me here, too, and I really appreciate everything that the fine people of your town have done to help."

Sheriff Conklin's scowl smoothed itself out. It looked forced. The lawman smiled and stood up. "No need to worry, son. Just wanted to rattle your cage. Make sure you weren't some good for nothing sc.u.m bag who was going to cut and run from his duty."

"No sir," Rick said, getting into the act wholeheartedly. "In fact, I'll be staying here in town, so I'd be more than happy to help with the tree."

Sheriff Conklin regarded him with those cold gray eyes. Rick met his gaze and didn't break it. Sheriff Conklin nodded at him. They had a mutual understanding. They had a great dislike for each other, but they weren't going to be uncivil about it. The Sheriff turned to Rusty. "I want to see your report on this on my desk tomorrow morning."

"Yes, sir!" Rusty said.

Sheriff Conklin turned to Lee and nodded. He turned to Melissa and his gaze lingered on her a little longer, then he turned to Rick. He nodded, tipped his hat. "Good day, gentlemen." He turned and walked out of the drugstore, his boot heels clicking on the floor.

All eyes followed the Sheriff as he stepped outside and climbed inside his cruiser. Rick turned to the others at the counter. Melissa wiped gla.s.ses behind the counter, not meeting his gaze. Lee looked reflectively at him. "Well, that there is your first encounter with our a.s.shole Sheriff."

Rick laughed. Melissa looked up and cracked a smile. It seemed to break the tension. Rusty grinned at them as he turned back to his conversation at the booth nearby. Lee clapped Rick on the shoulder. "Trust me, we're not all backwoods rednecks."

A guy that looked like a pulp logger who had been seated at the booth closest to the counter sidled up to Rick, eager to compare notes. His chubby face was as red as a fire hydrant. He looked like he was more p.i.s.sed off about the incident than Rick. "Listen guy, don't worry about Roy Conklin. I'll tell you all about him. Guy's a p.r.i.c.k. One day when I was driving down York Road..."

Lee patted Rick on the shoulder as he turned and walked behind the counter to resume his duties. "Welcome to Phillipsport, son."

Melissa offered to drive him home after he had four cups of coffee and a slice of apple pie with vanilla ice cream. Rusty had stuck around and made small talk. Lee breezed in and out, stopping occasionally to crack a joke. Rick smiled and took it all in good-naturedly. Shortly after the incident with Sheriff Roy Conklin, he had appeared relieved. She smiled at him encouragingly, hoping she could get a moment alone with him so she could tell him the scoop about Phillipsport's Sheriff, but Gary Richards was already chewing Rick's ear off. By the time she poured his third cup of coffee he appeared to be doing better. By his fourth he was just fine.

Melissa joined Rick at the counter after her shift for a cup of coffee. During her shift, his prescription had been filled and now he sat with the bag of painkillers on the counter, listening politely to Gary as he carried on a one-sided conversation with Rick. Melissa slid into the stool on Rick's left and that seemed to save him.

He smiled politely at Gary and turned to her. "Hi," he said. His features said, please make that guy stop.

He seemed grateful for the attention. She asked him about his writing and he started talking about his book.

It sounded very interesting and after a moment, Gary grew restless. He had tried to hang onto the new shift in the conversation but Gary's idea of entertainment was a night at the local tavern.

Melissa got the idea that while Rick could probably party with the best of them, he would also be content to spend an evening reading an old book.

After a few minutes Gary nodded at Rick. "See you around, man."

Rick turned and offered his hand. "Of course. And thanks for the info." They shook hands and Gary went off to rejoin his friends.

Rick turned back to Melissa. "Now where were we?"

"You were telling me about your book."

"That's right." He picked up where he left off, telling her a little about himself, about his writing, why he had moved to Phillipsport. He told her about his drive to Phillipsport and his accident. "Does this area have really big crabs and lobsters?" he asked her.

Melissa had never really paid much attention to crabs and lobsters unless they were on the menu of a nice restaurant. She shrugged. "I don't have the foggiest idea. Why?"

Rick shrugged, as if dismissing it. "Just wondered." He quickly got past that issue, and related his meeting with Deputy Rusty Hanks, which ended with him being here at Shelby's Drug Store.

She smiled and divulged some vital stats on herself as well. She lived in Phillipsport with her grandmother and attended a community college in the larger town of Bridgton, some ten miles north. She was a Journalism major, with a minor in English Literature. She had a few friends that she hung out with from school but spent a large portion of her time at school, working at the drugstore, studying, or taking in movies at the local theater with her grandmother. Small-town life. Melissa finished her coffee and glanced at her watch. It was almost 4:00 p.m. "I gotta get going. Listen, I can drive you home-"

"I'd appreciate that," Rick said, his features brightening. Melissa smiled back and helped him gather his belongings. Rusty had offered him a ride home, but Rick had declined almost absentmindedly. He'd been telling Melissa about his work and Rusty traded a nodding glance at Melissa before heading back out to duty. Rick grabbed his jacket and followed Melissa out to her car, a 1988 Subaru Wagon. He stowed his belongings in the back and slid into the pa.s.senger side.

He relaxed even further as she pulled out of the parking lot and drove toward Carl's garage to pick up his things from his car. "How are you feeling?" Melissa asked him.

"Fine," Rick said. "My head's okay, if that's what you mean."

"I'm glad your head's fine, but that's not what I meant," Melissa said, keeping her eyes on the road as she talked. "I was asking if you were okay after what happened a little while ago back there."

Rick scowled slightly, the memory of Conklin flickering to the surface. "That a.s.shole was just itching for a confrontation, wasn't he?"

"I could see it coming the minute he walked in," Melissa said. "Roy Conklin has been doing stuff like that to people for years."

"Why do people put up with it?"

"Most of the older citizens of town are cut from the same mold; good old boy, narrow-minded racist bigot. They're the ones that keep voting him back into office. He does do a lot of good for the community. We haven't had a murder in G.o.d knows how long. I've been living here most of my life and I don't remember hearing anything about murders in Phillipsport. The most that happens out here is the occasional bar fight on Sat.u.r.day night. Some of the people here don't seem to mind what Conklin does, just so long as he protects their small-town standard of living and keeps out big city influences." She glanced at Rick. "Which is what he and most of the people of this town are going to consider you."

"Lee Shelby and Rusty seemed pretty nice," Rick retorted.

Melissa smiled. "Lee is great. He's definitely a man who doesn't go with the status quo of this town. And he was right about one thing; not all of us are backwoods rednecks."

"You included, I would hope?"

Melissa stole a glance at him and saw that he was grinning. A jokester. She laughed. "I'm far from it. I hate rednecks although I have to admit I have dated a few of them."

"I haven't been too proud of some of the women I've dated before myself."

Melissa swallowed the lump that had risen in her throat and decided to go ahead and confess right now. What could she lose? "I've got to admit that I'm ashamed of the fact that I dated Roy Conklin briefly."

"Really?" His tone of voice suggested that perhaps he had been expecting this, but that he was feigning surprise.

She tried to diffuse the situation with a sheepish smile. "Yeah, I know. Stupid thing to do. I had just broken up a long term relationship and he seemed charming to me. He also reminded me of my father at first. My father had been a cop." She bit back what was going to spill forth next. He and my mother were killed in an accident. But she didn't want to go down that route. That could come later. "Anyway I went out with him for three months and I saw the kind of person he was pretty quick. He...kind of fell for me and I broke it off with him when he started getting too serious. He's been p.i.s.sed at me ever since."

"How long has this been?"

"About nine months."

"Great! Seeing us talking back there at the counter probably made him jealous."

Melissa was silent. Those were her thoughts exactly.

"Has he ever hara.s.sed any other guys you've gone out with?"

Melissa shook her head. "Most of the guys I date are from other towns, guys I meet at school. I don't really like any of the guys in Phillipsport. They're all pretty dense, except for Jack who owns the comic book store out on the pier and he's not my type."

"There's a comic book store in town?"

"Yeah. It's right on the pier." She stopped talking and checked for traffic as Carl's garage was approaching on their left. There was no oncoming traffic, so she made a left and pulled into the garage where his car was and waited while he got his stuff. She helped him load it into the trunk and back seat of her own car, and then they were off again.