Макс Коллинз - Shoot the Moon (and more)

“G sixty,” the man with the microphone said.

“One more letter,” Hopp said, pointing at the table of gifts right in front of us, “and that blender is mine.”

I covered my eyes.

“The blender is yours,” Elam said.

“One more letter,” Hopp nodded.

The housewife next to me leaned over and said, bitterly, “He’s already got a waffle iron, a toaster, a steam and dry iron and a set of coasters, and is he satisfied? No, he’s got to have the blender, too.”

Hopp pointed a finger at the housewife. “I told you to shut-up a long time ago, lady.” He returned to his cards.

Elam was shaking his head.

I started playing an extra card that was in front of me.

Hopp said, “I haven’t seen my wife in a year.”

Elam said, “And you think a blender would make her happy.”

Hopp nodded.

“0 seventy,” the man with the microphone said.

Elam said, “She wouldn’t be satisfied with just a waffle iron.”

“No,” Hopp said.

“G forty-eight,” the man with the microphone said.

Elam said, “She wouldn’t be satisfied with just a toaster.”

“No,” Hopp said.

“B six,” the man with the microphone said.

Elam said, “She wouldn’t be satisfied with just a steam and dry iron.”

“No,” Hopp said.

“N forty-five,” the man with the microphone said.

Elam said, “She wouldn’t be satisfied with just a set of coasters.”

“No,” Hopp said.

“I sixteen,” the man with the microphone said.

Elam said, “She’s got to have the blender, too.”

“Right,” Hopp said.

“Bingo!” I said.

Tall thick shrubbery lined the edge of the park, with the graveled surface of the oil company storage depot area on one side and the back of the bandshell on the other. There was a small open area between the shrubbery and the bandshell, and that’s where I met Sue Ann.

“I couldn’t find your friend anywhere,” she said.

I had sent her in search of Wheaty, while I went to round up Elam and Hopp, both of whom were now waiting by the stolen Mustang in front of the bank, waiting for me (and, hopefully, Wheat) to get us all out of here. I had watched from a distance as Elam and Hopp loaded Hopp’s bingo loot (waffle iron, toaster, steam and dry iron, set of coasters and, yes, the blender, which I donated to the cause) into the back seat. I was rather glad about Hopp winning all that junk, as it might soften the blow a little when he found out later that the money from the bank robbery was not in the trunk of the Mustang, as Elam had told him, but still safely in the bank, sitting in laundry bags next to the trussed-up bank teller and Sue Ann’s bank manager father.

Which leads us back into the bushes, or rather the open space between the bushes and the bandshell, where I was speaking to Sue Ann. Normally, it would’ve been pitch black in that open space, which was overhung by the shrubbery, but there was a full moon tonight and enough light was filtering down through the bushes for Sue Ann to see the incredulous look on my face when I heard her say she couldn’t find Wheaty anywhere.

“He’s around,” I said. “I don’t see how you could miss him.”

“That’s what I thought, so I asked some of my friends about him.”

“You what?”

“I asked some of my friends if they’d seen him.”

“Sue Ann, I asked you please not to do that. I said please just look for him yourself.”

“I know, but what could it hurt?”

I was tempted to tell her, but managed to resist. Instead I said, “What did your friends say?”

“They saw him. He was with Becky all day.”

“Who’s Becky?”

“Becky Wynning. She’s some distant relation of mine. I don’t really know her too well. But you probably saw her this morning.”

“Oh?”

“Sure. She’s the Founder’s Day Queen.”

“Brown hair? Brown eyes? Tall? Big, uh...?”

“The biggest,” Sue Ann nodded. “Your friend and her were hanging all over each other, all day. But nobody’s seen ’em for the last hour or so.”

“Hmmm. Where does Becky Wynning live, Sue Ann? She and Wheat might’ve gone over to her house, to be alone or something. Is it close enough we could walk over and check?”

“Not really. She lives on a farm five or six miles outside of town.”

“Damn. Does she have a car of her own?”

“I don’t think so. I’m not really sure, though. Why, doesn’t your friend have a car?”

“He does, but it’s stuck in the middle of that street over there with a thousand other cars. Besides which, it’s a Volkswagen and I doubt both Wheat and the king-size Queen could fit inside at the same time.”

“Are you going to go looking for him, Fred?”

“I can’t. No time for it.”

“Why not?”

“Please, Sue Ann. I told you I couldn’t explain everything. You just have to trust me. Believe me, I wouldn’t risk something like this if there wasn’t a good reason.”

“Whatever the reason, it’s exciting! I hope you won’t mind me saying so, but I never met anybody with such... such... moxie!”

“Moxie?”

“It’s an old-time word. Daddy uses it sometimes.”

She would have to mention Daddy.

“Fred...”

“Yes?”

“Did you hear something?”

“When?”

“Now.”

“No.”

“I heard something.”

“What?”

“Fred, you’re shaking!”

“I’m running a quart low on moxie, Sue. Ann. What did you hear?”

“Sounded like somebody wrestling or something.”

“Could you be more exact?”

“Well, I think I could.”

“Be more exact.”

“It sounded like a zipper.”

“A zipper.”

“You know what a zipper is, Fred.”

“I know what a zipper is, and I also know you said you heard somebody wrestling, Sue Ann, and somebody wrestling doesn’t sound like a zipper.”

“The zipper was only part of it... wait... there, hear it?”

“No.”

“A rustling sound. Wait. Listen. See if you hear anything.”

I did, and I didn’t.

“I think it was just your imagination, Sue Ann. Frankly, I don’t see how you could hear a zipper with all that racket going on so close to us.”

Over by the bank, the rock band was playing something loud and fast, while people danced in the streets and Elam and Hopp leaned against the stolen Mustang.

“I have excellent hearing, Fred. There! Don’t you hear it?”

“More zippers?”

“More wrestling! Scuffling. Listen.”

“Hey. Hey, yeah. It’s coming from right over there.”

“We better check it out, don’t you think, Fred?”

“I’m not sure.”

“I think we should.”

She was right. If I was found here in the bushes with Sue Ann in a few minutes, when I was putting my idea into effect, I could really get caught with my pants down.

“Okay,” I said. “Careful. It’s coming from under the bandstand, isn’t it? Is that possible?”

“Yes. It’s hollow underneath. Shhh. They’ll hear us.”

Then I saw the feet.

Four of them, to be exact.

The four feet were naked. That is, had no shoes or socks on.

And I was suddenly embarrassed.

What else would the hollow area beneath a park bandshell be used for on a summer evening but making out? The sounds of kissing and cuddling and assorted affection prompted me to try and tug Sue Ann’s sleeve so we could retreat before my embarrassment was passed along to the happy couple under the bandshell, who as yet hadn’t noticed us creeping up on them.

Then I took a closer look at the four feet and recognized them. Two of them, anyway. The other two feet I could pretty well figure out. All four of the feet were large, though two of them were more feminine than the others. Large feet belonging to large people.