Jacqueline Druga - Omnicide

It had a good view of everything.

It was set on the edge of town, with the police station directly across. Catty-corner from it was Eb’s garage and across the street, just half a block away, was the ever-busy Brass Balls and Beer.

In between it all, the grocery store.

Other businesses and restaurants, along with the motel, were up the road farther east. But from a perfect vantage point, for Cass, Schmitty’s was the place to be.

“So.” Brian folded his arms, leaning against the 1957 Studebaker Silver Hawk. “What’s the… well, no pun intended… scoop?”

“Eb didn’t know there were two deer,” Cass replied. “He said that the one that was in the grill smelled worse than death. Something was wrong. That was confirmed by Ada.”

“And you’re okay?”

Cass nodded. “I’m focusing on Marge and getting answers for her. See…” She nudged him. “I worked while you went to Seaver and had lunch for like three hours.”

“Couldn’t leave town. Had to stay in the diner,” said Brian. “They were Pred dusting.”

“Yeah, but not in Seaver.”

“You know Thomas. Anything to show control.” Brian reached down and scratched his forearm. “Damn it.”

“Your psoriasis again?”

“Yeah, all freaking day. I have to get the cream. I should have got it in Seaver.”

“You got something else. You saw the Feeny camera people show up in Seaver?” Cass asked.

“Oh, yeah. Where is she at now?”

“Staying with Ada, she’s going to film Griffin while she’s staying here. The show must go on. Then again, we have to see if Kit will let us borrow his kid.”

“Kat.” Brian nodded. “He was in my history class. He would do everything video. He’d love it.”

“And that’s why I’m waiting,” Cass said. “To get permission from Kit. Whenever he finishes with the two strangers.”

“Okay, he pulled them over in town?”

Cass pointed to their car. “Looks like a senior citizen dad and his middle-aged son. They zipped right into town to pull over.”

“Saying they were running from the end of the world?”

“As we know it or something like that.”

“Meanwhile”—Brian pointed—“they’ve been sitting in the chairs by the window for a half hour. Kit hasn’t even talked to them.”

“Because the chief isn’t there and Kit is making them wait. But they don’t care.”

“Hold up.” Brian stood upright and stepped from the car. “They’re leaving the station.”

Cass watched. They had to be father and son, they resembled each other in build and look. They even walked the same. She expected that they had been released and would head to their car. Instead, they kept walking.

“Are they’re headed to…?” Brian asked.

“Looks that way.”

Brian cringed. “Ouch, he’s really making them pay.”

“Wait out the punishment… at Brass Balls and Beer.” Cass nodded watching the duo walk in there. “Okay.” She nudged Brian. “Now’s your chance.”

“My chance for what?”

“Get the scoop from them. Find out what they’re up to and why they’re running. I mean they think the world as we know it is coming to an end. We need to find out.”

“You’re being facetious.”

“A little,” Cass said.

“You’re the next Scoop, you do it.”

“I’m on the crazy sick deer story so…”

Brian looked at her. “Cass?”

“Brian, what if they’re connected?”

“Oh, I doubt that.”

“One way to find out. Take the lead.”

“Why me?”

“You’re human interest,” Cass said.

“No, I’m the obit guy.”

“Still human interest.”

“You’re right.” Brian nodded. “Let’s do this. Let’s talk to the mysterious strangers.”

Cass walked with Brian across the street. It was his story, but she was willing to bet she’d do most of the questioning.

Stepping inside Brass Balls and Beer wasn’t anything unusual for anyone that lived in Griffin. It always looked the same. Nothing ever changed. Same decor that was probably there fifty years earlier. Dim wall lights made to look like lanterns hung by the booths that lined the walls, and hanging lights with a long, colorful oval shade dangled over the bar.

It was dim, no matter what time of day or night.

In typical audible fashion, Frank Sinatra played on the jukebox.

Usually when someone entered, they’d go to the bar. There they’d get a menu or order a drink, or pick up an order they had faxed in.

Cass spotted the two strangers sitting in the middle booth. A bowl of peanuts between them as they nursed their glasses of beer.

Neither of them talking.

“Why don’t you find out from Glen what they’re drinking,” Cass said. “Get us a pitcher, and I’ll meet you over there.”

“Whew, so you’re gonna make the first approach?” Brian asked.

“It’ll be easier. They look lost and upset.”

“Whether it’s true or not, they think the world is ending,” Brian told her. “How do you think we’d look if that was us? In a strange town, no one believing us, waiting for the kangaroo hearing to start.”

“Kangaroo is appropriate. Our magistrate sucks.”

“Yeah, well, we share him with Seaver. They suck.”

“But they have good food,” Cass said.

“Oh, the best ribs ever. Don’t say anything at the diner.”

“Promise,” Cass whispered, her eyes locked on the two men. “Go ahead. Meet me at the booth.”

“What if they tell you to go away?”

“Please,” Cass scoffed. “I got this.”

With a slight lean to her walk, head tilted, Cass made her way to the booth with the two men. Up close, they looked even more like fish out of water in Griffin. They certainly didn’t look like tourists. The older man had thick salt-and-pepper hair that was combed rather neatly. His chest was slightly barreled and he wore a button-down denim shirt. The outline of a pack of cigarettes was in his pocket.

The younger of the two sat across from him and wasn’t all that young. They were either father and son or brothers with a huge age gap. They were related without a doubt: the nose and chin were dead-on similar. The younger was a man in his forties, with wire glasses, hair similar to the older man’s, only gray at the temples. He wore his combed down and parted extremely to the right like he was trying to comb over the bald spot the older man didn’t have. His shirt was checkered and in his front pocket was a pocket protector. It made Cass laugh. The younger of the two was like the younger nerd version.

Smiling, Cass lifted her hand and cheerfully said, “Hi.”

They both turned and looked at her at the same time. Both the same way with matching dumbfounded expressions that screamed why are you talking to us?

“Okay, weird,” Cass said. “I had this weird flashback to Terminator and the human robots. Older model.” She nodded at the older gentleman. “Younger. Can we join you?”

Both men in sync peered out of the booth.

“Like Men in Black,” she said. “I’m Cass.” She held out her hand

“Arthur…” He paused. “Smith. And this is my father, Bill.”

“Smith?” Cass asked. “For real or is that a Men in Black joke?”

“ Men in Black joke,” Bill answered. “He’s afraid you’ll recognize his name. Please sit. Join us.”

Cass slid in next to Bill. “Recognize huh? Are you famous?”

“I’ve been in the news a lot lately,” said Arthur. “Not for anything illegal.”

“Of course not. I actually work for the paper. I promise this isn’t for an interview. So what is your…” She paused and looked up when Brian returned. “Where’s the pitcher?

“Glen said he will bring it over once he figures out what to do with the fax from John Feeny.”