Choppy Water

24

Bess Potts turned down the long dirt road that led to Colonel Sykes’s compound. It was a winding and very pretty drive, climbing a couple of hundred feet from the highway. She pressed the down button on her window and let the sweet air in. She also let in an unexpected sound: the muffled crack of what sounded like a silenced rifle.

She pulled into the parking area outside Sykes’s house, which was set in a notch of the hillside. She switched off the engine and sat in the car for a moment, waiting to hear the sound again, so she could track its location.

Her arm was resting on the car door, and something struck her elbow. She looked at the door and found that her driver’s-side mirror had disappeared. Apparently, that was what had struck her elbow.

“CEASE FIRE!” came a tinny voice from the distance, then all was quiet. “STAND DOWN!” the voice shouted.

Wade Sykes stepped from behind the house and walked over to her car. “Are you all right, Bess?” he asked.

“Weren’t you expecting me?”

“Not for another quarter hour,” he replied. “Do you need anything?”

“Yes, I need a new side mirror, and it’s one of those smart ones, so it will be expensive.”

“I’ll replace it, of course. Were you hit?”

Bess unbuttoned her sleeve and rolled it up, exposing her elbow, which sported a huge lump. “Maybe an ambulance?”

Sykes opened her car door and helped her out. “I don’t think we’ll need an ambulance, but let’s get you into the kitchen and get some ice on that.”

She followed him inside, holding her elbow in her other hand. The lump had begun to throb.

“Elroy!” Sykes shouted. “Get out here!”

Slowly, Elroy Hubbard opened the swinging door to the kitchen. “You wanted something, Colonel?”

“Get some ice on Miss Potts’s elbow. She’s had an accident, and it’s swelling.”

“Accident?” Bess asked. “Someone was shooting at me.”

“My dear,” Sykes said, “if Eugene had been shooting at you, we’d be calling a hearse right now.”

Elroy came out of the kitchen holding a dish towel, twisting it to keep the ice in. She sat down at the dining table, gently propping her arm on it, and he applied the ice pack. “Just hold it right there with your other hand,” he said gently, “and turn it every now and then to keep the cold on it.”

Bess followed his instructions. “Wade, what the hell is going on out there?”

“Target practice,” Sykes said. “We do a lot of that around here.”

“How many visitors have you lost?” she asked, a touch of acid in her voice.

“None so far,” he said. “Fortunately.”

“And why is Eugene employing a silencer?”

“Why do you think that?” Sykes asked.

“Because I couldn’t hear the shots, just a pfft sound. Ergo, a silencer. That’s illegal, isn’t it?”

“It’s a beer can, filled with sawdust from my woodworking shop, that’s affixed to the rifle barrel with duct tape.”

“I believe that’s the very definition of a silencer,” she said.

“How is your elbow feeling?”

“Better, sort of numb.”

“The swelling will go down after a while. Would you like a drink to help it along?”

“Scotch,” she said. “Rocks, too.”

“I’ll join you.” He handed her a glass and she took a gulp of it.

“Is Eugene going to shoot it out of my hand?”

“Of course not. What happened was completely an accident.”

“Or maybe Eugene doesn’t like me a little.”

“I expect he’s sitting on his bunk, crying his eyes out as we speak,” Sykes said.

She managed a chuckle. “I’m glad the mirror got in the way, or I wouldn’t have an elbow.”

“We use silencers for outdoor shooting to keep from disturbing the neighbors.”

“What neighbors? I’ve never seen a living soul around here during my visits.”

“Oh, we have a couple of old ladies — sisters — who live nearby. Once, they called the police when they heard gunfire.”

“A perfectly normal reaction,” Bess said.

“Perhaps,” he replied. “But I’m building something in my shop that will be much more effective.”

“Oh, good,” Bess replied. “Then Eugene can pick the old ladies off their front porch and never make a sound.”

Skyes managed a smile. “What a good idea. Good practice for Eugene.”

“And who or what is Eugene practicing to shoot?”

“Did I say he was going to shoot somebody? That was your suggestion. Elroy, bring us a new ice pack!”

Elroy silently entered the room and exchanged a new dishcloth for the old one, then left the way he had come.

“That guy gets under my skin sometimes,” Sykes grumbled.

Bess looked at him and rolled her eyes.

“Don’t you worry. I always treat him with kid gloves. I wouldn’t want to lose the best biscuit maker in Virginia.”

“Come on, Wade. What’s the silencer for?”

“You haven’t been with us long enough to ask questions like that,” Sykes said.

“You’re right,” she said sheepishly. “I apologize.”

“Apology accepted.”

“I suppose you’re not going to need my help with that one,” she said.

“Probably not. I’ll let you know if that changes.”

“Anything I can do,” she replied.

Elroy stuck his head in past the door. “Supper’s in five minutes, Colonel,” he said.

“Ring the dinner bell, then,” Sykes replied.

Elroy disappeared into the kitchen, and after a moment, an old-fashioned school bell began ringing.

Sykes removed the ice pack from Bess’s elbow and scrutinized it. “Much improved,” he said. “I think we can do away with the ice.”

“Thank Eugene for not doing away with me,” Bess said, tucking her napkin under her chin as the others entered and took their seats.