Chapter 1

Cal Tucker wasn’t accustomed to being out on the streets at one in the morning, even on a weekend. It was a good thing that it was mid-June, when the weather is warm, even at night. If it had been a few months ago—and it would have been just like Edwin to pull a stunt like this one in the middle of a snowstorm—then maybe he would have...

Cal banished the thought. He knew that it was an empty threat...

Nightlife wasn’t Cal’s style and, anyway, there was no nightlife in the sleepy town of Appleton New York that was worth anyone’s while. It had once been a thriving little city south of Syracuse. It had factories, agriculture and the local college. It had devolved to farming and the college—and most of the professors lived somewhere else.

It was a working-man’s kind of town, nestled at the edge of New York State’s Southern Tier. There was a downtown zone that was populated by professional and government offices. It was composed of brick and limestone buildings with a skyline that topped out at three stories.

There had once been stores there, too—and a few remained, but only a few. The residential areas of wood-frame houses lay in rings around the core and a few trailer parks hidden in discreet corners, out on the edge.

In the center of it all was a lone eating establishment, the Blue Bird Diner. It wasn’t the only restaurant in town, of course. But it was the one that everyone thought about when they were thinking about a restaurant. At first glance, a stranger would say that the diner didn’t really fit into the Central Business District (as the Chamber of Commerce liked to call the downtown area). But Appleton people knew better than strangers and the diner had been in its place for more years than the widened state route that was also called ‘Main St’.

What fit in anyone’s eye were the two bars, The Red Rooster at the east end of town near the interstate and the Dew Drop Inn at the west end that was adjacent to the farmland. There were plenty of bars near the college, but locals never went to them.

No one would have blamed Cal for being in the unpleasant mood he was in, but no one would know it unless he wanted them to. Cal kept those kinds of things under lock and key. He glanced once more at the sweaty face of his younger brother through the rear windshield of the police car. There was a cut and matted blood on the left eyebrow. He unlocked his personal box just enough for a disgusted huff and headshake that no one would see.

“He’s damn lucky I was home tonight, or he’d wake up in the County Jail!”

What was he saying? Cal was always home. At any rate, he didn’t have time to think on it further because the police officer who had called him to the scene was walking in his direction from the bar across the street. He was approaching at a crisp pace, so Cal knew the answer already.

“Well, anyway, my kid brother’s lucky that I know most of the police in this town.”

“Herb says that if Junior pays the damages he won’t press charges,” the husky cop with the GI haircut announced with a smile.

“It’s not ‘Junior’, it’s ‘Edwin’,” Cal corrected, but the officer didn’t seem to pay any attention. “Anyway, what does Herb figure the damages might amount to?”

“Don’t know,” the officer shrugged. “You’ll have to talk to him. I told him you’d come by and see him tomorrow after he totes it up. But, he did say that he’s expectin’ you to stand behind it. He says Junior’s word is no good on its own.”

“Already figured that, Brad. Tell Herb ‘Okay’.”

He paused for a second and motioned to the police car where his brother waited.

“He didn’t give you a lot of trouble did he?”

“At first I thought he would,” the officer answered. “I was worried, too, because Junior’s pretty wiry—and he goes about six-two. He can be a handful when he’s had a few too many. When it came down to it, though, he started laughing and threw up his hands. He knew how it would end up one way or another.”

“I guess he smartened up at the end,” Cal agreed. “His real name’s Edwin, by the way.”

“Oh, yeah,” the officer smirked. “I almost forgot.”

It was true. Edwin did cut a finer figure than most, particularly when Cal compared his younger brother to himself. It wasn’t just the physique part of it. Junior had a look that reminded the world that he didn’t give a damn. The muscles just backed it up. Cal was different. Even though they were brothers, a stranger wouldn’t know it.

Cal was shorter by several inches. His years on the farm made him wiry, too; however, he didn’t look very physical. His thirty-three years were starting to show. He wore glasses and was clean cut, with a complexion that was a lot lighter than Edwin’s. His hair, which was much lighter-colored and straighter than his brother’s, was beginning to recede. Edwin let his just grow how it might. Cal parted his neatly on the side.

Cal pondered the differences in the way the world saw him and his brother.

“Maybe it’s because I give a damn,” he thought.

“I should let you take him to jail for the night but my parents couldn’t stand it—especially Ma. I’d end up bailing him out in the morning, anyway.”

The deputy raised his eyebrows in commiseration and drew a deep breath.

“I can’t release him on his own in the condition he’s in. He’s too drunk to drive that pick-up—and I doubt that Roxie’s any too sober, either.”

Cal knew where the conversation was headed, but let the officer spell out the rest of it.

“I could release him to you if you can get him into his cabin. You could drive the pickup—but you’ve gotta promise that he won’t be back on the roads tonight.”

Cal glanced back at the figure in the back seat of the patrol car and sighed.

“I suppose so. You wouldn’t be able to follow me out there and give me lift back into town, would you?”

The officer shook his head.

“Sorry, Cal; can’t leave the patrol area—gotta stay inside city limits.”

“I knew that, but I had to ask,” Cal conceded. “I’ll leave my car in Herb’s lot overnight, if that’s alright.” The officer nodded. “Anything else to be done here tonight?”

The Deputy shook his head.

“I’ll get Junior outta the cruiser and take the cuffs off. Just be sure he stays in for the rest o’ the night.”

“Don’t worry,” Cal answered, and then turned to retrieve his car about thirty yards away.

Cal moved his car from the street to the parking lot. By the time he returned to the police cruiser the Deputy was unlocking Edwin’s cuffs.

“I’m taking you to your place, Edwin,” he said. “Get in the pickup. I’m driving.”

“Big brother to the rescue,” Junior sneered. “What’d I do without you?”

“This routine is getting real old, Edwin,” Cal answered.

“It wasn’t Junior’s fault,” the strawberry blonde pleaded.

Cal noticed her standing next to the patrol car during the whole time, but had declined to speak to her.

“The biker-guys started it. They took off before the police even showed up. Herb only blamed Junior because he wants someone to pay the damages.”

Cal turned a deaf ear to the young woman’s plea.

“What about you, Roxie?” he spoke to her at last. “You want me to drop you off at your place?”

“No!” she insisted, folding her arms over her chest. “I’m staying with Junior.”

She was a strawberry blonde with some pretty nice curves compacted in her short frame. Her hair looked curly, but would have probably been wavy if she’d taken a brush to it. She had a cute face, except there may have been a few more years etched in it than the calendar should have allowed.

“It’s Edwin,” Cal muttered under his breath, and realized that it didn’t matter whether or not the young woman heard it.

He stole a glance and saw her looking at his brother’s forehead where dried blood matted the eyebrow.

“You’re gonna need a couple stitches in that eyebrow,” he said to his brother, but no one paid attention.

Cal looked at the ground. He was always being ignored when he was the most correct. He spoke to himself, ensuring that someone would listen.

“You’ll never learn, Roxie. I tried to tell you a long time ago, but you didn’t listen. You never listened to me and you should have.”

The admonition went unuttered and unheard, just like all the other times.

“C’mon, let’s get going. It’s nearly one-thirty,” Cal called to them, climbing into the driver’s seat. “You get in the middle, Roxie. I don’t want Edwin next to me if he throws up. You want to be his nurse—that comes with the job.”

“Very funny, Cal,” Edwin shot back in a slurred voice. “I’ll drink you under the table any day.”

“Just roll down the window,” Cal ordered. “Let’s get out to your place and get this over with.”

Cal started the engine and they pulled onto the street. Cal waved a ‘thank you’ to the officer who’d saved them from yet, another scandal. He made the turn toward the State Road.

“Brad can’t see us anymore,” Edwin said as they turned a corner. “Swing by your place and we’ll drop you off. No need for you to make the trip out to the cabin.”

“No dice, little brother,” Cal snapped. “I gave my word; you’re my responsibility.”

“Aw, come off it...” the younger man started to protest.

“It’s no use,” the woman mocked. “It never is. Cal always has to do everything by the book; always follows the rules—never a spot or a blemish. That’s Cal.”

Cal ignored the chorus. It was a familiar litany that he’d heard so many times in one form or another that he memorized it like the Sunday morning prayers at Church. As he drove, he wondered why they thought he would listen to them. In this world there were people who should be listened to and others who should do the listening. Cal considered himself in the former group; his younger brother and his sometimes girlfriend were among those who belonged in the latter group.

The problem, as Cal saw it, was that Edwin and Roxie didn’t understand these groups and where they fit in them. They were like a lot of people. It required all of his patience to deal with it. Cal learned the lesson a long time ago, so he tried to force himself to stop trying for the time being. All he knew was that as soon as these two learned what they needed to know they would be a lot better off.

They were alone on the road; it was a new moon. The only light came from the headlamps of the truck. Cal followed the beam, knowing that sooner or later it would guide them to where his brother lived. It was a log cabin that Junior—Edwin, that is—built from a kit a few years before when he moved from their parents’ farmhouse.

He bought the do-it-yourself cabin just when they stopped being popular. That was typical of the way Edwin did things. The cabin was off the main road. A red mailbox signaled the cut for the dirt lane that led to the cabin about a hundred yards into the trees.

It was a sort of bachelor pad, Daniel Boone style. It rested on a small plot cut out of the family dairy farm. The main house and the barn, where their parents still lived, were at the opposite end of the farm about a half-mile away. Junior could come and go unseen as he pleased with no questions from the old folks.

As Cal slowed to make the turn into Edwin’s lane he could see the old farm house in the distance. Their parents still left the light on outside the barn door. It was for the milk truck that picked up every morning at four. The light looked like a beacon—for a wayward car, or a wayward soul. Cal knew that it wasn’t for him.

“We’re here,” Cal announced and then shut off the engine.

“Well that’s good, ‘cause I gotta pee,” the young woman blurted out.

She ran onto the porch and waited for them at the door.

“Real class, Edwin,” Cal muttered as she bolted away from them, out of earshot

His brother didn’t bother to answer. Junior fumbled with the key for a few seconds and then turned the lock that opened the door and the three of them piled in.

“How’re you gettin’ back to town?” Junior asked.

“I’m takin’ your truck with me,” Cal answered. “I promised Brad...”

“I could say ‘no’,” Junior said over his shoulder as he peered into the refrigerator. He tossed a beer to Cal. “I could make it stick, too.”

“No thanks,” Cal replied and then set the unopened beer on the table. “Maybe you could make it stick, maybe not. There was a time when I’d have whipped you good.”

“Then you got civilized in your big downtown office,” Junior scoffed. “You got soft, or do I need to remind you of that?”

“I like ‘civilized’ better than ‘soft’.”

“Well, anyway—you gonna give me them keys?”

“Not a chance,” Cal said. He put the keys in his pocket and turned to face his brother full-on. “Who knows? Maybe I’m not so soft.”

Junior burst out laughing and flopped onto the sofa.

“Calm down, big brother—have it your way. I wouldn’t whup the guy who kept me outta the slammer.”

His brother laughed some more and then swallowed down part of his beer.

“That your way of sayin’ ‘thanks’?”

Junior laughed again.

“Careful, Cal. You’re forgettin’ that saints never get gratitude—especially from us sinners. Which do you want? You can have gratitude or sainthood, but you can’t have both. You are runnin’ for sainthood—ain’t that right?”

“Mayor,” Cal answered, and immediately regretted that he’d let that slip out. “I mean, forget it, Edwin. Forget I said anything.”

Junior finished his beer and then opened the can that Cal set on the table. He took a long swallow and then paused to laugh at his brother again. They heard the toilet flush behind the bathroom door.

“Look,” Cal sighed, “do you want me to drop Roxie off at her place on my way back to town?”