Beth Solheim: At Witt's End

Sadie nudged Belly away from Theo's leg as the dog pranced around Theo's feet. “And you've met Rodney. We don't know much about him,” Sadie said, pointing toward the inner room. “He doesn't seem interested in sharing his intentions with the group."

Pulling Michael into her lap, Sadie said, “The five of you make up my guest roster for the time being. I'm only allowed five crossers at one time."

"But you have six,” Theo said, pointing at Mr. Bakke.

"Mr. Bakke isn't dead."

"He's not?” Michael said, looking up at Sadie. “He looks dead."

Hearing his name, Mr. Bakke said, “What?"

"Our new guest thought you were one of the crossers, Mr. Bakke."

Mr. Bakke turned toward the kitchen table. “I'm not dead yet. I suppose that's not too far down the road, but as of today, I'm still kicking."

Sadie pointed at the door. “Theo's over by the door. You were talking to the chair Lora's sitting in."

"Is he the new one?” Mr. Bakke asked, directing his gaze toward the door.

"Yup,” Michael chimed in. “He just got here."

Sadie patted Michael's leg. “Yes. He's our new one."

Theo nodded toward Mr. Bakke. “What's wrong with him? Can't he see me?"

"He can't see or hear you. He's a mortal."

"But you can,” Theo argued looking at Sadie. “Your dog must see me because he keeps drooling all over my pants."

"All animals see crossers,” Tim said. “Haven't you ever noticed how animals run and sniff the ground? It's because they smell a crosser and keep searching until they find it."

"That's preposterous.” Glancing through the screen door, Theo spotted two men parking a golf cart next to the resort's shuttle van. He pushed through the door. “Excuse me. Can you give me directions to the nearest police station?” When they didn't answer, he shouted again. Rushing toward the golfers, Theo brushed past Jane.

When Jane opened the door, Sadie announced, “We have a new guest."

"That's nice,” Jane said. “That must mean we have a full house."

"We sure do. Our latest guest is a bit skeptical. But he'll be back."

"Are any of them here now?” Jane asked.

"All of them except the newest one."

"Even Mr. Nasty?” Jane shifted the bag of groceries to her other hip.

Sadie sighed. “Yes, Rodney's here. He's in the inner room doing what he does best. Nothing."

Jane took the groceries from the bag and handed each item to Mr. Bakke. The elderly gentleman placed the canned goods on the shelf, taking care to turn each label face forward. He tapped the cans into alignment. As he stacked the smaller cans of dog food, he rotated them until the dog's heads aligned in a perfect column. Seven Spaniels stared back at him. He turned toward Jane and waited for the nod of approval before folding the paper bag and placing it on a shelf in the pantry.

"I think I'll go back to my cabin,” he whispered to Jane. “I get nervous when Sadie has a full house. I keep sitting on them."

"That doesn't matter,” Jane said. “Sadie told me the crossers are supposed to watch out for us. It's not our fault we can't see them. Besides, it's my cabin and I'll sit wherever I darn well please."

Jane directed her attention to Sadie. “What's the name of our new guest?"

"Theopholis Peter."

Splaying her hand against her chest Jane said, “How do you know that?"

"How do I know what?” Sadie turned to face her sister.

"About his peter?"

Placing her hands on her hips, Sadie said, “What are you talking about?"

"Well you said he had the awfulest peter. I want to know how you know that. Was he naked when he got here?"

"Good God, Jane. Sometimes I wonder if you're the crazy sister instead of me. I said his name is Theopholis Peter. Theopholis Jamison Peter. We call him Theo. Now do you understand?"

The men from the golf cart approached Theo. He repeated his request for directions a third time. “I'm sorry to bother you, but I seem to be lost. Can you help me?"

As Theo met the men, they continued without acknowledging him. Theo spun and reached out to grab one of the men. His hand clamped around the man's arm, but the man kept walking.

Gasping for air, Theo dropped to his knees. “It can't be. This can't be happening.” He laid the briefcase in front of his knees, dialed the combination, released the latch. He inserted his fingers into the silk pocket lining the lid. He withdrew a small black bag. As he ran his fingers over the fabric, a tear dropped and beaded on one corner of the bag. He rocked back and forth clutching the bag. He sobbed, “Why? Why did this have to happen now?"

Deputy Carl Swanson sat hunched over an apprehension report, reading it through one final time. He scrawled his name across the signature line. Startled by a door latch clicking behind him, he turned to see his friend, Paul Brinks, enter and pause in front of a birch bark mirror.

A hot poker of envy stabbed at Carl. Paul had it all. All he had to do was smile and women surrounded him. Paul had been a babe-magnet in high school. He still was. Back then, Carl enjoyed sorting through Paul's castoffs. Not anymore.

Paul paged through a folder on Carl's desk while the deputy responded to an incoming phone call. He jerked his hand away when Carl slammed the folder shut.

"You don't need to look at anything on my desk,” Carl said. “I don't snoop through your stuff, do I?"

"That's because you trust me. Trust is a good thing.” Paul grinned slyly. “I hear the Witt sisters don't trust you. You're on their shit list. I still don't know why you think you're going to win that lawsuit."

"Don't worry about it.” Carl slid the folder out of Paul's reach. “What makes you think I trust you? I'm not as dumb as Nan. I can't believe you dangled your money to get her to marry you."

"It's none of your business what I do. She'll come around if she wants the mortuary and the land it sits on.” Paul propped his hip against the corner of Carl's desk. “Think about it. Before Nan 's Dad died, he planned to buy the mortuary from the Witt sisters rather than continue the land lease. Now Nan wants to do the same thing. She wants to keep the family legacy alive, but can't afford it.” Paul feigned a look of humility. “I'm a genius."

"Who'd want to continue the legacy of a mortuary, anyway? That's morbid."

"Her grandfather started the business a long time ago. Nan feels she owes it to him to continue their dream,” Paul said.

Carl held his thumb and forefinger against his forehead to simulate the letter L.

" Nan 's not a loser,” Paul said.

"I didn't mean Nan. I meant you. Using something like that to get a woman to marry you is pathetic. But of course if the broad is dumb enough to fall for it, then she deserves you."

"I'm nowhere near as conniving as you are, my friend,” Paul said. “I'm not the one going after two helpless, old ladies."

"Helpless my ass. The judge will determine who's helpless. You know how Judge Kimmer hates the Witt sisters."

Both men stopped as Angie, a twenty-three-year veteran with the sheriff's department, muted an incoming dispatch. Angie spun her desk chair around and signaled to Carl. Carl joined her behind the bullet-proof glass. Two 911 calls had been phoned in simultaneously. The callers indicated they had witnessed a vehicle cross the median, two miles north of town, and hit a pole.

They both looked back at Paul before Carl returned to his desk. “There was a car accident similar to the one the other night. Angie didn't want you to hear it. She didn't know how you'd react.” Carl said.

"Who was it?” Paul pulled up a chair.

"Don't know yet. But it didn't sound serious. The victims didn't need an ambulance.” Carl ran his hands over his face. “Thank God it wasn't as bad as the other night. I still can't believe the whole Fossum family was wiped out in that accident."