Chapter 24: Open Books
When the Alive Again Adventurer mentioned she might venture out in search of a library, Lily rolled her eye, pointing out that the girl had already read enough books for one lifetime. Therefore there was no need to seek out similar activities in a city with so many other sights to see.
Chuck did not subscribe to the idea of 'enough books', but she knew her mother had a point.
All the same, the fact remained that with Jimmy Neptune joining their entourage, Chuck literally could not be herself. As long as he was around she had no choice but to play the part of assistant, a role beneath her talents. And since she could hardly afford to go to a café or cinema any time she needed space, libraries would be the most cost-effective alternative. Perhaps even a meeting place for her and Charles Charles…
As she wandered the wintery streets, heels click-clacking along cobblestones, coat flying out behind her like a cape, Chuck savored the feeling of anonymity. It was a kind of superpower, this freedom to be herself, or anybody else for that matter…
Just then a mustachioed man walked by, wincing against the wind – as he caught her eye his face thawed into a smile. He winked.
Chuck snorted and shook her head. The last thing she wanted in this moment was attention, especially of that kind…
Soon she found herself drawn onto a side street, with lamp posts standing sentinel. She tried not to look too long at the storefronts, which showed off fine wines and rich cheeses and fatty cuts of meat; rows of artisanal jewelry and prisms of perfume that refracted light.
Chuck gloomily reminded herself how long her Pie Hole savings would have to last. Then she tried to comfort herself with the thought that she would come back once she had figured out how to legally make money as a foreigner with a false identity…
Towards the end of the street she spotted a book shop, named Tome Voyage. Not quite what she was looking for, but they could at least point her in the right direction…
The place was oddly crowded. Chuck understood the desire for a good book better than anybody, but this noisy, desperate press of people seemed a bit much.
"What's going on?" she asked someone in line – one of many untidy lines, all waiting to be attended to by the lone woman at the counter.
The customer huffed, her face red and round as an apple. "Magdalene the Magician is out. Have a guess at what the little ones are getting for Christmas."
Chuck grimaced in sympathy. "Do you know where I can find the nearest library?"
She scoffed. "It won't be in there."
"Oh, I know. I just want a quiet place to read."
"All right, well, give me a pen and paper, you won't remember the way if it's not written down…"
Actually, Chuck fancied herself quite good at directions and memorization. But best not to turn down an extra helping of kindness when offered…
"Pardonnez-moi," she said, winding her way through the crowd so she could get to the front. People cried out at what they thought to be someone cutting in line, and she had to shout a bit to explain what she wanted.
"Pardonnez-moi, pardonnez-moi…hi!" she exclaimed, finally collapsing on the marble counter. "I'm so sorry, I just need a pen and paper."
The woman spared a second to glare over winged glasses, while her hands rang up orders. "Then you can get in line and buy them like everybody else."
"Oh no, I just need someone to write down directions for me…"
"So you need my help?" she snapped as she handed change to a harried-looking man. "Then come over this counter and help me first. You know how to use a cash register? Don't worry, it's easy."
Chuck was not worried, she knew very well how to use one.
What she did not know was how she ended up working in a book shop…
XXX
The Pie Maker lay back with his eyes shut tight, willing himself to rest. But as soon as he approached the edge of sleep, his anxiety-addled mind would yank him back before the fall. Ned groaned into the dark, wondering if Olive was awake for the same reasons…
Their conversation – or rather confrontation – with Maurice and Ralston had not gone well. The twins intuited that they were lying about something; Ned and Olive made it rather obvious as they tried to piece together half-truths on the spot. But his younger brothers had no way of knowing for sure…
The facts (in part) were these: Team Pie Hole had been aware of Dwight Dixon, long before he broke in with a gun. The former peacekeeper, turned killer, worked closely with their parents in Egypt. But at some point he fell out of favor with Eddie and Charles Charles, who severed ties with him forever. Years later, Dwight clearly still had a bone to pick with them…
This only encouraged more questions, like: why did he steal a pocket watch? Where was the one belonging to their father? Would Dwight be able to find him? Should they try to find him first?
The Pie Maker had an answer for that at least: "NO. Absolutely not. That would be crazy dangerous and besides – you wouldn't even know where to start…"
But Ned did.
"You never told me why Dwight wants those watches so bad."
"You never asked."
They were strolling through the nearly empty aisles of an all but abandoned video store. Eddie thought it unwise to meet at the Pie Hole if he could avoid it and Ned did not disagree. Since his mother died, the Pie Hole was the only place he ever felt safe. Home. Surrounded by everything and everyone he loved. He would do anything to keep that feeling alive.
"I figured you'd lie if I did."
Eddie slowed to a stop and Ned followed suit. "Have I ever lied to you?"
"You mean like the time you said you'd be back before disappearing for 20 years?"
Instead of having the decency to look contrite, Eddie made a face so confused one would think he had walked into a closet after being told it was the bathroom.
"I said I'd be back…and I am."
Ned opened his mouth to object, then stopped abruptly, as if he had swallowed a fly. There was no point digging all that up again, with so many more pressing matters to address. "Forget it. Why does Dwight want the watches?"
Eddie shrugged and turned to pick up a copy of Zombie Mobsters: Vol. II. "Because he was an opportunist, same as Treadwell. The watches belonged to the grandson of some big shot Egyptian politician. Grandpa always believed that together all three watches could determine the span of a human life. There was a trade-off, of course. However many years you added to one person would have to come from somebody else, and vice versa."
"You think Dwight believed that?"
"I think he knew someone would believe it, same as Treadwell. Someone who was looking to literally buy time."
Ned rolled his eyes up to the fluorescent-lit ceiling. It seemed that the people with the most money and power were the ones least equipped to handle it responsibly.
"So one night the kid is out on the town, having a little too much fun, when he gets attacked by a bunch of street urchins who somehow found themselves in possession of a gun. Lucky for him we were patrolling the area and got him out of there. He was so grateful he gifted us the watches; said he wished us long life. He was being more sentimental than literal but…"
"Wish granted," Ned muttered, his voice steeped in bitterness. It struck him that two of the three men who had made his life miserable were now also immortal, thanks to him.
"We took them because why not. It was a cute souvenir. But then Dwight floated the idea of selling them. Now considering what I knew about life and death stuff, I shot him down. So did Charlie, mostly 'cause he thought Dwight was a dick."
That meant a lot coming from Charles Charles, Ned thought, but did not say.
"Anyway, Dwight seemed like he lost interest in the idea after a while. But right before we headed home we caught him trying to swap ours out with cheap fakes. From that day on we were done with him."
Ned took his time processing this, under the guise of browsing the 'Classic Romance' section. It seemed Dwight had always been a con artist. Even then, when he was supposed to be dedicating his life to helping people. For all the sins of their fathers, the Pie Maker took some small comfort from the fact that they were better men than Dwight. He knew next to nothing about either them, but he knew that much at least…
There was more to the story, of course. More questions that needed answering, and answers that would lead to even more questions.
At the thought of keeping all of this from his brothers, Ned felt guilt and regret rise up in him like bile. And yet, there was also a sense of entitlement. After all, Maurice and Ralston had always had each other. They still had their mother.
It seemed only fair that he should be the one to spend time with their father, after being left alone for so long…
XXX
When Emerson was only a boy, his mother Calista had insisted on teaching him how to forage and hunt. The matriarch believed that a man should be as self-sufficient as possible, rather than dumping his incompetence in the lap of some poor woman. That meant knowing how to mend his own shirts; clean his own floors; source his own food. For if he intended to enjoy a good steak, he better know how it got on his plate…
Lying in wait among the crackling leaves, young Emerson thought he would never feel comfortable taking a life. But in time he came to see it not so much as cruel, but as a kind of necessary evil. Quite literally, as Calista enforced her lessons by refusing to go grocery shopping for over a month…
35 years, 10 weeks, 5 days and 7 hours later, Emerson Cod prepared for a hunt that was no less essential to their survival. And even more justified in view of how dangerous Dwight had proven to be. This was, without a doubt, self-defense. Not that that made him feel good about it…
The trap that had been laid involved an elaborate game of telephone. If carried out as Eddie intended, it would reach Dwight's ears, and lure him back to Papen County.
Pie Maker Sr. seemed confident enough that he could take Dwight down on his own, but not so confident that he did not need Emerson to act as backup.
And so the PI waited for his signal, all the while playacting that life was carrying on as normal…
"You know, pasta dough and pie dough are kinda like cousins. They have a lot in common, genetically speaking, but they're not the same. We should play with that idea, right?"
"Mm-hm."
"Maybe have a Pie Hole Pasta Special. Where we offer pasta dishes that have pie-like tendencies. Lasagna and baked ziti and ravioli and kugel…but only on Sundays, we don't wanna dilute our brand."
"Mm-hm."
"…and I can advertise it by going outside wearing nothing but one of those spinny arrow signs."
Emerson rolled his eyes and looked up from his Glühwein pear pie.
"Just 'cause I'm not talkin' doesn't mean I'm not listenin'."
Olive chuckled and shook her head, before returning to her inventory list. Emerson watched her for a moment, feeling sorely tempted to tell all. To tell her that hours earlier, he received an envelope containing a photo of one Dwight Dixon, lurking on the outskirts of town. To tell her that he was not merely here for pie, but to protect the Pie Hole, and everyone in it. To tell her that it was time she got familiar with the idea of using a gun, because even though she was not looking for a fight, it might be coming to her door regardless...
But that would only disrupt her peace; the same peace that had settled over this whole place like a clean bed sheet. Emerson preferred not to rattle her, until it was absolutely necessary.
So instead he pierced a fleshy chunk of pear with his fork and listened to Olive rant about pre-packed apples with the rotten parts hidden…
A/N: Guess who has two fingers and a new job she kind of really likes? This girl! But still in the probationary period so that has taken up a lot of my mental energy.
I kept coming back to this chapter, though, just looking at it, waiting for inspiration to flow…took a while but here it is!
Thanks for reading, any/everyone x