Fig Street

The year is 1969: In the city of Glennville the streets, even in the poorest of neighborhoods are safe for children to play. But the city has its secrets, and those secrets have their dangers. #Horror #Crime #Fantasy #DellSweet #Series

FIG STREET

Fig Street is Copyright © W. G. Sweet 2020

All rights foreign and domestic reserved in their entirety.

Cover Art © Copyright 2020 Wendell G. Sweet

Some text copyright 1984, 2010, 2014, 2015 W. G. Sweet

LEGAL

This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places or incidents depicted are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual living person’s places, situations or events is purely coincidental.

This novel is Copyright © 2020 Dell Sweet.  No part of this book may be reproduced by any means, electronic, print, scanner or any other means and, or distributed without the author’s permission.

Permission is granted to use short sections of text in reviews or critiques in standard or electronic print.

A free preview of Fig Street…

Bobby was awake long before Moon woke up. It was always that way; Moon didn’t like to get up early any morning, let alone a morning when there wasn’t even any school. He’d told Bobby that more than once. And one time he had even made the mistake of telling his mother that. She hadn’t said a word, simply left his bedroom and told Big John-even Moon thought of him as Big John, not dad. Moon had sported a black eye for the better part of a week, for that. He had never made that mistake again. Tired or not, he always edged one eye open, and made sure of where he was, and who it was that was trying to get him up.

Bobby wandered over to the small creek, leaving Moon asleep in the old shack. It was early, even the birds that normally would be calling back and forth to one another, were quiet. Only tentative whistles flew back and forth. Bobby thought of them as First-thing-in-the-morning-whistles. In another half hour they would be calling back and forth to beat the band.

He sat quietly watching a few minnows dart back and forth in the creek. He never noticed the dog, until it was very nearly upon him, and only then because its shadow fell across the rippled surface of the creek.

He turned quickly. The water had distorted the image, and he wasn’t sure what it was. A bear, his mind had screamed. A bear sneaking up on you…

It was no bear, he saw plainly as he spun around. He released his breath in a pent-up whoosh of air. A dog, a small dog: Brown and white spotted, and simply standing there staring at him, grinning a little doggy smile as it did.

“Scared me boy,” Bobby said barely above a whisper. The dog continued to smile: A wide sappy smile. Not at all threatening.

Bobby waited for his heartbeat to gain a somewhat normal rhythm before he spoke again.

“Come here, boy,” he called softly. It was a boy dog, he could see that clearly. The dog wandered over, as if it had known him all of its life. Bobby held out one hand, and the small dog sniffed curiously, and then tentatively licked the offered hand.

“Good-boy,” Bobby said quietly, as he ruffled the fur of the small dogs’ neck. “That’s a good-boy.”

The dog smiled once more, and cocked its head as it did.

“You got a name, old boy? Huh?” Bobby asked. The dog wagged its tail furiously. No license tag, Bobby saw. If you owned a dog-and Bobby never had, his father wouldn’t allow it-in Glennville it had to have a license, he knew. No collar, no anything. The dog didn’t look slat-skinny as some strays he’d seen did. It looked like someone had fed it. The dog continued to wag its tail and smile widely.

Maybe, Bobby thought, it was Tommy Jefferies dog. The Jefferies usually had a couple of dogs hanging around, and there were other places close by, but the Jefferies farm was the closest.

“You belong to Tommy, old boy? Do ya?” Bobby asked, as he continued to rub the small dogs’ soft fur. Moon spoke from behind him.

“Hey, where’d the dog come from, man?”

Bobby turned and smiled. “It was just here, when I woke up, Moony. I was sittin’ here, and it just sort of came walkin’ up… Cool, huh?”

Moon walked over and sat down next to Bobby. “It don’t bite, does it?” he reached one hand out tentatively, and the dog sniffed politely.

“Didn’t bite me, but you’re a dick-head, so it probly will bite you, Moony.”

“Yer mother,” Moony said, as he began to pet the dog as well. The dog seemed to like the attention. “What’s its name?”

“Gee, it told me, but I forgot,” Bobby said, and laughed.

“Okay, funny man, I meant, like, whose is it, I wonder?”

“Dunno,” Bobby told him, “Tommy’s?”

“Uh uh, ‘cause I’ve seen Tommy’s dog, and this ain’t it, man, for real.”

“Ya, I didn’t think so either,” Bobby agreed.

“Hey, so, like, if it ain’t anybodies, we can keep it. It’ll be ours, right?”

“I can’t, and neither can you, remember the cat?”

They both remembered the cat-a kitten really-all too clearly. Moon had found it, but Bobby had taken it home to his house. As soon as his father had seen it, he had told him to make it gone. And Bobby had tried to. He and Moon had taken the cat way across town, and dropped it off. The cat had come back three days later though, and Bobby’s father had found it. Moon had been there at the time, and Moons dad.

Their fathers had been drinking in the back yard, Moon and Bobby had been playing with some Matchbox cars in the front yard, when Bobby’s father had suddenly yelled.

“BAH’BEEE!!”

Bobby had hotfooted it to the back yard along with Moon, only to find his father and Moon’s dad holding the small kitten.

“I told ya ta get rid a this fuckin’ cat, Bobby. Ya know we can’t have no fuckin’ cat hangin’ round, now dontcha?”

“But…”

“Nope, sorry, boy, but I told ya, and now I’m gonna have to make ya un’erstand what I was sayin’ to ya.”

Moon’s dad had held the small kitten down with one work boot, as Bobby’s dad had hit it in the head with Bobby’s baseball bat. They had been laughing uncontrollably as they had done it, and after they had tossed the cat over the back fence into the Johnson’s back yard. The Johnson’s had a German Shepherd. Bobby had only been glad that the fence that separated the two yards was a solid board fence. It had been bad enough listening, without having to see.

Moon drew a deep breath. “Yeah… I remember the cat okay.”

“You hungry?” Bobby asked the small dog. The dog wagged its tail harder.

“Hey,” Moon said, “so am I, ya know.”

Bobby stood up smiling. “Come on, boy,” he called as he headed back to the small shed. The dog followed along behind the two boys.

It didn’t look hungry, but the dog did eat two sandwiches. Bobby fixed them the same way he made Moon’s and his own. The dog finished first, and then managed to beg better than half of Moon’s second sandwich, and nearly all of Bobby’s.

“So,” Bobby asked, “what should we name it?”

“Name it? I thought you said we couldn’t keep it?”

“We can’t take it home… But we could let it hang around up here with us,” Bobby said defensively. The dog looked back and forth between the two boys.

“Yeah… I guess so, but do ya think it’ll stay here? I mean, when we’re gone and stuff?”

Bobby shrugged his shoulders. “Dunno, man.”

“Moon smiled. “How ‘bout, Pete?”

“Pete’s cool, I guess,” Bobby agreed. “Wanna be called, Petey?” Bobby asked the dog. The dog wagged its tail.

“Hey, ” Moon said, “I think he likes it, for real, he like, wagged his tail, man.”

“He’s been waggin’ his tail since we found him,” Bobby reminded him.

“Yeah, well, he seemed like he wagged it more,” Moon said.

“Maybe,” Bobby allowed.

“So, you wanna be called, Pete, boy, do ya?” Moon asked. The dog jumped up and placed its paws on Moon’s chest. “Hey, for real, I think he likes it, Bobby.”

“So, cool, we’ll call him Pete,” Bobby agreed. The dog jumped down, padded over to one corner of the small shed, turned several times, and laid down.

“Hey, we got a dog,” Moon said happily. “A cool dog.”

Bobby grinned back at Moon, the dog shifted its eyes back and forth between the two boys, grinned and closed its eyes.

“Hey, man?” Moon asked, “wanna make, like, little boats and float ’em in the creek?”

“Sounds cool,” Bobby agreed, “we could float ’em all the way down to the Black?”

“Yeah,” Moon agreed happily, “that’d be really cool.” They both set to work.

~

Kyle walked into the office at six AM. He’d never gotten out until well after two, and even then he hadn’t gotten everything he wanted from Randy and John. He had gotten enough though: More than enough to satisfy him. Yes, Turk was up at Randy’s camp, but, no, Turk swore he didn’t do anything to May, and he had no idea where Christine was. The claimed they believed him too. And they had volunteered more than a little information about the girl. Information they couldn’t have possibly known, unless they had heard it from Turk.

“Yeah,” Randy Weston had told him, “Turk did say somethin’ ‘bout a girl. A young one, wasn’t it John?”

“Yeah,” John Calloway had agreed. “Said she was blond haired, I think. Said he picked her up hitchin’ eighty-one, said she put out, and he dropped her back on the interstate afterwards.”

“True,” Randy had agreed.

Kyle didn’t believe it, it sounded too easy, so he had pressed for more, and he had gotten more.

“Okay,” John had said finally. “He said he took her out to Glenn Pines, by the county dump. But, as God is my witness, he said he only done it to her, and then took her back and dropped her off.” John knew damn well that Kyle would go out there to check things out, and he knew exactly what Kyle would find when he went out to the dump. The girl had been carrying a backpack. It had been lying next to her on the ground, when he’d hit her in the head. It had been soaked with her blood, and so they’d thrown it back in the woods.

It would be the perfect thing to pin the murder on Turk, they’d both agreed. How else would it be there? How else would they know unless Turk had told them? John had argued. And the trick, John had told Randy, was not to give too much away. If they said nothing about the knapsack and Kyle went out there and found it himself, it’d seem just like it ought to. Randy had readily agreed. After all, he told himself, Big John was damn smart.

Kyle had been satisfied that they had told him everything they knew. He intended to check out the dump, right after he checked on the camp in Carthage. In fact, he decided, maybe it might be better to send Frank out to check the dump, while he was up in Carthage. He wouldn’t be able to hold the two of them past the weekend anyway; he’d have to let them go, most probably this morning. Both of their wives had already called more than a dozen times. And Debbie Weston had threatened to call up Sy Walker. Sy Walker was a pain in the ass. Glennville only had two practicing lawyers. Sy was one of them, and Sy didn’t like Kyle. He’d be only too happy to file suit against him and the county.

Frank came in ten minutes later, carrying two cups of coffee with him.

“Jesus, Kyle, don’t you ever sleep?” Frank asked.

“Don’t seem like it,” Kyle said and smiled.

“Saw your car… Picked you up some coffee.”

Thanks,” Kyle said as he took the offered coffee. “Frank, I want you to swing out by the county dump this morning.”

Frank raised his eyebrows. “Special reason?”

Kyle dropped his voice to a near whisper. The holding cell wasn’t all that far away. He had stood back there before and listened as Frank talked on the phone. It was nearly like being in the same room, he knew. “Our two guests’ claim Turk told them he picked up a young girl that fits the description of the girl you found. I didn’t tell them what the girl looked like, and the only way I figure they could know is to have heard it from Turk.”

Frank nodded.

“Turk said he took her out there and had sex with her. I’m thinking,” he lowered his voice even more, “that maybe it’s the crime scene. Mac and I both agreed she wasn’t killed at the school. So, I’m hoping he left something that will hang him. You know the clearing there? Right next to the dump?”

“Uh huh,” Frank agreed.

“Right there is where Turk told them he took her. Take a good look, Frank, and I’ll keep my fingers crossed… Now,” he raised his voice to a normal speaking voice, “as for our two friends back there, I guess, since they came clean with us, that we maybe ought’a release them this morning, drop the charges and let them go,” he lowered his voice to a whisper once more. “After you check out the dump, not before. I don’t want to chance they may reconsider and head out there to take a look themselves, okay?”

Frank nodded, and grinned. Both of them could hear Randy and John moving around quiet like in the back of the building.

“You two hungry?” Kyle called out. “I’m about to send Frank down to Mick’s for breakfast…” he waited… “Speak now, or forever hold your peace.”

“Yeah,” John Calloway called out.

“Me too,” Randy agreed.

“Good deal,” Kyle called back. “You boys will be leaving later this morning, of course it will take an hour or two for the paper work…”

“Bout fuckin’ time,” John said happily.

“Yeah,” Randy agreed.

“You boy’s want coffee too?” Frank called back, as he got up and started for the door.

“Yeah, a whole fuckin’ pot of it… We both do,” John called back.

Kyle nodded when Frank looked his way. Frank grinned, and left for Mick’s. Kyle pulled a county map out of the middle drawer of his desk, and began comparing the directions he had gotten from John Calloway with the map. There were so many logging roads up around Carthage, and he wanted to make damn sure he got the right ones.

“Up by West Texas road, John?” he called back.

“’Zactly,” John called back.

Kyle nodded to himself, compared the notes he’d taken to the map once more. He was satisfied he’d find it. He just hoped he’d find Turk there.

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