Chapter 4

Mr. Latham followed Bev into her office.  “Call me Spider.”

Bev had a file drawer open and turned with arched eyebrows.  “What did you say?”

“When you say ‘Mr. Latham’ I keep thinking you’re talking about my dad.  Call me Spider.”

The green eyes blinked.  She picked a folder out of the drawer and shut it decisively.  “All right.”  Putting the folder on the edge of her desk, she indicated a nearby chair. “If you will sit down, I will find out what we need to do.”

Spider sat.  While she was busy elsewhere, he examined a framed poster that hung on the opposite wall behind the desk.  It pictured a surging crowd of people, all in running attire with numbers pinned to chest and back.  “Are you in that batch?” Spider asked, pointing.

Bev, seated at the desk with a note pad and pencil, looked behind, and her flaming hair followed the arc of the turn like sinuous crimson silk, showing copper highlights in the sun.

“Yes.  Can you find me?” she challenged.

Spider stood and moved closer.  “Is this like finding Waldo?  Are you wearing a red and white striped hat?”

“No, but I’m wearing the number sixty-six.”

“What race is this?”

“It’s last year’s Boston Marathon.”

“No kidding!  Huh.”  Spider stood intently, scanning the throng as Bev wrote numbered items on the spiral notebook.  “I give up.”

Turning her chair around, Bev stood in one fluid motion and pointed to a figure in center backfield, a face and shoulders only; nothing else was visible at that distance and camera angle.

“But I can’t see your number!” Spider protested.

“I didn’t say you could see it.   I only said I was wearing it on that day.”

Spider met Bev’s eyes for a moment, one eyebrow lifted a fraction.   There was the suggestion of squaring about her shoulders and a ghost of a smile on her lips.

Spider was first to look away.   “I see,” he said in a neutral tone and returned to his seat.

Bev picked up her pencil from the desk, playing with it as she leaned against the filing cabinet and looked down under lowered lashes at Spider.  “So,” she said.  “Are you with us?”

Spider considered a moment. “That depends.”

“On what?”

“Well, first, I’m going to talk to Opal Lucas.  Then, if I think it’s something I ought to do, I’ll go back home, talk to my boss about time off.”

“And your talk with Opal will be key to your decision?”

“Yes ma’am.”

Bev regarded him for a moment, and he returned her gaze.  “Okay,” she said, sitting at the desk and pulling the notebook to her.  “Case closed.  We might as well get everything in train right now.  It’ll save time later.  What’s the soonest you can leave?”  She looked up and forestalled his protest, “If you decide to go.”

“If I decide to go…” Spider gave the same emphasis as Bev, “…and if I can get time off, I could leave tomorrow morning.”

“All right, then.  I’ll get arrangements made for a plane ticket,” she glanced up, “refundable, of course.  I’ll have a car there for you.  Motel room.  Credit card.  Ummm…letter of introduction.  I imagine you were fingerprinted when you were hired as deputy, so….”

“Nope.”

Bev looked up, pencil poised on number six.  “Beg pardon?”

“I wasn’t fingerprinted.”

“No background check?”

“Nope.”

She leaned back in her chair.  “So, how did they know you didn’t have a shadowy past?”

“I don’t think there are too many ‘shadowy pasts’ in Lincoln County.  Since the mines closed, if you’re there it’s because you’ve been there all your life and are bent on staying.  Everyone’s life is pretty much out in the sunshine.  Aren’t many secrets around there.”

“I see.  Well…”  Bev pushed her chair back and stood up.  Spider was beginning

to wonder about the soft, smooth voice that was so at odds with the decisive, almost controlling, mannerisms.  He wondered if the tonal inflections were natural or assumed, and what it cost her to maintain the façade, if indeed that’s what it was.

“…company policy is that everyone is fingerprinted.  I need to make an ID tag for you, too.  My camera is in the shop.  Hmmm, let me see your driver’s license.”

Spider obediently fished out his wallet and opened it to reveal his deputy sheriff’s badge.  He extracted his Nevada license and handed it to Bev.  She took it and examined the picture.

“This is great.  I’ll just use the picture off this for the ID tag.”  She sat at her computer and put the license in a scanner.  While it was uploading, she tapped the folder on the edge of the desk.  “Pre-employment packet,” she said.  “For if you decide you’re with us.”

Spider opened the folder, but instead of writing, he watched with interest as his license appeared on the screen.  Bev manipulated his image to another screen and typed  relevant information into spaces provided.  When she hit print, out came an official looking document that she then fed into a small laminator on the shelf beside her desk.  Trimming the rigid plastic ID, she then took a tool out of a drawer and put a metal eyelet through one corner.  From another drawer she drew a lanyard that had BTE woven into it all the way around, clicked it through the eyelet and dropped it in front of Spider.

“You haven’t even begun your paperwork,” she chided.

“I’m too interested watching you do your work.”

“I’ll leave you alone to do it and go get set up to fingerprint.”  Pushing her chair tidily in, she left the room, and the sound of her footsteps were lost in the deep pile of the carpet.

Spider got to the matter at hand, and by the time she returned, he was just finishing his W-4 form.  Silently, Bev picked up the stack of papers and riffled through them.  “Fine,” she pronounced as she evened up the edges and put them back in the folder. “Follow me.”

Spider trailed out the door, down the hall and to the kitchen, where a fingerprinting apparatus was set up.  “Grab a paper towel,” she directed, rolling out the ink.  Spider did as she bade, stood where he was told to stand, and tried to relax his hand and not help as she rolled each finger, printing the image in the proper place.  He watched with interest as the circular whorls appeared, etched in black ink on the white cardstock, and he tried not to show that this was the first time he had seen the process done.  I need to tell Brick Tremain that I can’t do this, he thought.  He’ll be wasting his money. 

“Wipe your hands with the towel, then wash them at the sink.  Use this.”  Bev handed him a bottle of soap, and while he worked at getting the ink out from under his fingernails, she cleaned off her tools and put them away on the top shelf.  Spider noticed the ridge in her arms as she lifted the weight of the glass roller board.  It reminded him of Laurie’s arms when she was stacking hay bales in the barn.

Closing the cupboard door, Bev said, “Now, let’s get you on your way to Opal’s house.”  The command was implied as she left the kitchen, and he mentally saluted before following.

“How well do you know Las Vegas?” she asked when he was again seated in front of her desk.

“I can get around all right.”

She spread a map in front of him. “This is where we are.  When you exit the garage, turn right and go two blocks.  Take a right, and you’re on Charleston Boulevard.  Just stay on that, and you go clear out here, to Moonshadow Estates.  There’s a big sign; you can’t miss it.  Turn in at the entrance.  Tell them at the gate you’re to see Opal Lucas.  Take the first right, then the first left then the first right, and it’s at the end of the cul de sac.”

“Moonshadow Estates, through the gate, right-left-right.  Got it.”

“Okay.  Here’s what I’m going to do.”  Bev opened a cupboard and examining the key-board that was on the inside of the door.  “I’m going to give you a BTE vehicle to drive to Opal’s.  Then you can take it on home and bring it back tomorrow.”  She held up her hand for silence when she saw Spider about to speak.  “If, after talking to Opal, you have decided you can’t go, then come back here and someone in the mail room can take you home.”

Bev selected a set of keys and then picked up the telephone, punching three buttons.  “Hello, Maria.  Is Jade back yet?  Yes, thanks…Jade?  I want you to meet Mr. Latham at the elevator and take him down to the garage.  I’ve given him the keys to Number Seven, so help him find it.  Okay?”   Spider heard something that sounded like oooowww coming from the phone.  Bev said a soft, “Thanks,” and smiled as she put down the receiver.

She handed Spider the keys and turned back to the cupboard, taking out a small strongbox and opening it with a key she had in her pocket.  “When did America declare independence?” she asked with her back still to Spider.

“Beg pardon?”

Bev turned around with a credit card in her hand.  “When was the Declaration of Independence signed?”

“1776,” said Spider, mystified.

“That’s the pin number for this card.  You can sign for things or get money from an ATM using that pin.  Don’t lose it, and don’t forget the pin. And bring me all receipts.”  She handed the card to Spider.  “I think that’s it.  You’ll get your letter of introduction tomorrow.  I’ll get you on the first flight out after noon, so if you’re here by ten Jade can take you to the airport.  Better plan on staying a week or more.” 

“Ah, what about the folder?  The information you already have?”

Bev picked up a folder out of a basket on her desk and carried it with her to the door.  “Jade will meet you at the elevator and get you on your way.”  Offering him the folder, she said, “Good-bye, Spider.  It was nice to meet you.”

“My pleasure,” Spider said automatically, taking the file in his free hand, but as he walked down the hall the term railroaded held new meaning. 

Jade was waiting at the elevator, his brow like a thundercloud.  He jabbed at the down arrow and stood with his hands in his pockets and his shoulders hunched.

As they stepped into the private elevator, Spider asked, “Something go wrong with your day?”

Jade shook his head but continued scowling. Spider assumed a benign mien and worked on inventing an excuse not to become embroiled in BTE affairs.  At the twenty-fourth floor, the doors opened and Spider exited first, crossing to push the summons button on the opposite wall.  Jade slouched out after him, and when they were again falling towards the ground, Spider heard Jade mutter something that sounded like, “Red-headed witch!”

Spider eyed him.  “Something going on that I missed?”

“She knows I don’t like her, and she goes out of her way to needle me.”

“Because she asked you to take me to the garage?”

“Because she gave you the brand new Mustang convertible!”

“She did!”  Spider grinned, mentally picturing himself driving with the top down, one elbow resting on the windowsill, wind ruffling his hair.  “Did she, now!”

“Yes!”  Jade was speaking through gritted teeth.  “She knows I’d give my right arm to drive that car.  But Brick Tremain’s son might think he’s better than someone else if he drove it.  He gets to drive the Yugo.  And just to rub it in, I get to send you off in that car.”

“Ah.  I see,” Spider said as they reached the lobby and walked to the basement elevator.  He wasn’t sure he did, but it had a soothing sound, and it was a sop to his conscience.  He, Spider, after all, was going to be driving a new Mustang convertible, while Jade, the boss’ son, was left with something less. 

They went the rest of the way in silence.  When they got to the BTE parking area Jade stolidly led the way past the blue Caddie, past the Yugo with flames, and around a pillar.  “There,” he said, pointing.

It was the way he said it that got to Spider.  Without hope.  Spider looked at the red convertible gleaming under the lights at the end of the row.  He looked at the bleak young man beside him, held out the Mustang keys and asked, “So what will that Yugo do?”

Jade didn’t know what he meant at first.  He looked at the keys, looked at Spider, looked at the keys again, and back to Spider, and an incredulous smile split his face.  “You’re kidding!”

“Naw.  I’m afraid I’ll start thinkin’ I’m better than other people.  I’m better off driving the other one.”

Jade grabbed Spider’s hand and wrung it.  “Oh, thank you, Spider.  Thank you!”

“If you sink this one, you’re on your own,” Spider warned.

“Don’t worry.  I’ll be careful.  Here.”  Jade fished the Yugo keys out of his pocket and gave them to Spider.  “You have to push down on the gearshift to get it into reverse,” he said, as they retraced their steps.  “Sometimes it likes to die when you’re stopped at a stop sign, so you have to turn your foot to the side to keep giving it gas while you’ve got the brake on.  And, when you first start it, if it dies, the next time you try, you have to hold the accelerator clear to the floor when you crank it.  Let it off the minute it catches.”  He opened the door for Spider.  “I think that’s all.”  He hesitated a moment, his brow clouding again.  “You sure you want to do this?”

“Sure.  I think I’ll make more of a splash in Lincoln County in this than in the other one, anyway.”

Spider got in and, after examining the instrument panel, locating the lights and windshield wipers, he put the key in the ignition and turned it.  The engine caught quickly, a whiny whir that promised a long ride home.  Jade closed the door and stepped away as Spider, mindful to push in the gearshift, backed out.  His eyes crinkled as he smiled ruefully, thinking that it was better than hitch-hiking.  Only just.  Then he set himself to finding his way out of the parking labyrinth.