Ken Douglas - Ragged Man

After the sheriff had dismissed them with the warning that he would be coming up the hill later to get full written statements, they stood next to the Jeep, talking around the events that had left a man dead on the beach.

“ Can we stay and see what happens next?” J.P. asked.

“ I think we should go home and let the police do their job,” Judy said.

“ Aw, Mom!”

“ I think your mother is right, the police have enough to do without us getting in the way,” Ann said.

“ Can we get some Ding Dongs then?”

“ J.P. loves frozen Ding Dongs,” Judy explained.

“ So I’ve learned,” Rick said.

“ Rick likes ’em, too,” Ann said.

“ Does Rick like everything you like?” Judy asked.

“ Pretty much,” Rick answered for the boy.

“ Rick doesn’t get on with too many people, but he’s really taken to J.P.,” Ann said.

“ Not fair, I like people.” Rick brushed hair from his eyes.

“ In great moderation. It’s good this isn’t a big city or we’d have been long gone.”

“ So I like small towns.”

“ Is that why you bought the house on the hill?” Judy asked.

“ It’s always been our dream to settle down in an isolated house in the woods. Quiet and private, with nobody around.”

“ But you like to be around me, don’tcha?”

“ J.P., we couldn’t have a better person to share the hill with. We’re glad you moved next door and we like being around you. You can come over anytime you want,” Ann said.

“ I’m glad, because I like doing stuff with Rick. He doesn’t treat me like a kid.” J.P. was squinting, trying to see what the policemen were doing on the beach. He turned away and looked down the street. “Can we get the Ding Dongs now?” He pointed to Singh’s Bait and Convenience Store.

“ I don’t think so, J.P.,” his mother said.

“ But we’re out,” the boy pleaded.

“ We need milk anyway,” Ann said.

Rick thought Ann was making an excuse, so they could stay longer and see what happened next, without feeling like freeway rubberneckers. He decided to help her out by starting off in the direction of the convenience store, leaving the three others to drift along in his wake.

They entered the store to the ringing of three golden bells. Jaspinder Singh looked up and smiled at one of life’s coincidences and wondered if he should tell Rick Gordon about the man that had just left.

Then the warning bells went off again and one of life’s many burdens came through the door for the second time that morning. “Can I be helping you, Mr. Gundry?” Jaspinder Singh asked.

Gundry ignored him, eyes wandering over the store.

“ You are not wanting more wine?”

“ No.”

“ Then for what are you wanting?”

“ Something to eat.” He shuffled toward the breakfast cereal, picked up a box of Wheaties with his left hand and held it in front of his face, like he was reading the back of the box.

“ Can you guys come over for coffee?” Judy Donovan said as the group was approaching the counter.

“ Sure,” Ann Gordon replied, “no way would we leave you two alone after what happened out there.”

“ What happened out where?” Jaspinder Singh asked.

“ A man tried to kill my mom and Rick ran him down.”

“ Big city crime in our little town?” Singh shook his head. “What is this world coming to?”

“ Right on the beach. Killed ’em,” J.P. said.

“ Can we get some wine?” Ann asked from the back of the store.

Gundry tried to replace the Wheaties with a shaking hand and caused an avalanche of cereal boxes. Startled, he jumped back and dropped something on the floor. The clank of metal on cement riveted Singh’s attention. A man at the magazine rack took his face out of Field and Stream. A man with a bag of bait froze. Judy gasped, Ann stared wide-eyed.

“ It’s the knife!” J.P. shouted.

And Jaspinder Singh saw Sam Storm enter the store and take in the situation as Rick Gordon started for Gundry, then he grabbed for the gun he kept on the shelf under the cash register.

Gundry looked confused as he snatched the knife from the floor and charged Rick with his right arm extended, hand holding the blade like a jousting knight. Rick stopped, stood his ground, stepped out of the way of the stumbling Gundry and brought a bottle of red wine down on his head. Gundry folded, all tension leaving his body as he went down.

Singh had his gun trained on the action, felt his arms shaking as he held the automatic in a two handed grip, saw Rick Gordon dive for the floor.

“ It’s okay, Mr. Gordon, I won’t be shooting you.”

“ You’re sure?” Rick Gordon said.

“ Absolutely.” Despite the circumstances, he was tempted to laugh as he lowered the weapon. He wasn’t a coward, but he wasn’t an idiot either, he’d been afraid. However, he didn’t back down. He’d acted like a real American.

“ Big gun,” Rick said as he got up.

“ He was coming at you with a big knife.” Singh put the weapon back on the shelf under the register.

“ Yes, he was.” Rick dusted off as the store came to life.

Everyone crowded around Gundry. Sam Storm bent to take his pulse. “Dead,” he said.

“ Somebody better go for the police,” the man that had been reading Field and Stream said.

“ Sheriff Sturgees is across the street,” Ann said. Then added, “I’ll go.” But light flashed through the store before she had a chance to move. Then the lights went out.

In the excitement no one saw Sam Storm pick up the Bowie knife. They didn’t see the dead Gundry’s hand close on Storm’s arm, They didn’t see him jump away and they didn’t suspect a thing when he eased himself out of the store.

He tossed the knife on the passenger’s side of his old, brown Ford Granada, started the car and drove. Something was happening. He felt light headed. He reached and scratched the itching sensation on the back of his neck. Something wasn’t right.

He made the first left without thinking, then the next left, then the next, and he found himself driving past the convenience store. Something was drawing him back. He continued on and found himself driving around the block for a second time. This time he parked across the street and down the block from the store.

He lit a cigarette and thought about Gordon.

He would sit tight and see what developed. He’d been after Rick Gordon for years, not that he could do much unless he caught him with a smoking gun, but he was convinced that he hadn’t retired. Once they taste the easy money they never quit.

It had taken him over twenty years to put it all together, but he’d done it. From that first scratchy record in the plain white cover, to the current rash of bootleg CDs, he had been on the case, and behind most of it was Rick Gordon. He was sure of it.

“ So the electricity goes out in a great white flash and the knife disappears,” the sheriff said through a frown of disbelief.

“ Yes, sir. That’s about it,” Jaspinder Singh said.

“ I’ll ask it again. Where’s the knife?” the sheriff said.

“ Not here.” Ann was the first to speak.

“ There was a knife,” J.P. said. “I saw it.”

“ Me, too,” his mother said.

“ That enough for you, Sheriff?” Rick said. For a short moment he thought he was in trouble, the kind of trouble he didn’t need.

“ No, it’s not. What I’d like to see is the knife.” He bent to see if it might have slipped under one of the food counters. “Not here.”

“ There was a knife,” Judy said.

“ It’s not here now.”

“ Somebody took it, that’s for sure,” Jaspinder Singh said. “It was right there, bigger than life.”