McDowell's Ghost by Jack Cady

Author:Jack Cady
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, General
Publisher: Fairwood Press
Published: 1982-07-06T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

McDowell bought horehound and a sack of Bull Durham at a small, old-fashioned drugstore owned by a white-haired, nearly tiny pharmacist and his even smaller wife. The old couple had the kind of courtesy that showed they were prepared to like you. It was easy to see that they liked each other, and had for years.

He also bought some rock candy. It would not do the job as well, but it would serve in case Peg really could not stand the horehound. Then he fought traffic for nearly three miles before he found a grocery store. The sun was bent toward the horizon but it was still high enough to make the shopping center like a field of heat as the parked cars absorbed and then radiated the sun.

When McDowell came from the grocery, three teenage kids were checking out the Cadillac. They were parked in an old AMX that idled choppily through a broken muffler. McDowell figured the kids could not shut the engine off because the battery was shot. Once the thing stopped they would not be able to get it started again. The kids were openly passing a joint. As he climbed into the Cadillac he saw that they were daring him with the joint.

Two of the kids were brown-haired, the other was blonde. The blonde kid took a toke, held it, then leaned out the window and blew smoke at McDowell. The kid’s eyes did not look stoned, he just looked smartass.

McDowell lowered his window.

“For an old man,” the kid pointed at the Cadillac, “that is one wild piece of shit.”

“For a punk,” McDowell told him, “that is taking an awful, awful chance.”

“You a widow fucker,” the kid said. “You rich bastards is all alike.”

McDowell put it in reverse, backed out of the parking slot, flipped the bird, and pulled away while checking his mirrors. The punks were arguing. Then the AMX backed from the parking slot like the driver’s foot was on fire. The kid who was driving hit the brake, revved the engine as he hit it, and popped the shift into drive. The AMX burned a little of its remaining rubber in a squawk of tires as the kids came after Dan McDowell. McDowell told himself that he might be about to spend a little money on a bumper, but it would practically be worth it.

He cruised the lot slow, nearly idling, and the AMX was following a yard from his bumper. In his mirrors he could see the kid in the center arguing with the driver. The driver was leaning back in the stiff-armed, ten-two position of race drivers. McDowell grinned. Straight fantasy. The kid was thinking he was the Mario Andretti of the shopping center circuit. The blonde kid was leaning out the window, hollering and tossing the finger.

McDowell eased toward the street. As he arrived he pressed his brake only enough to show brake lights. At the same time he sapped the car. The Cadillac jumped forward. The driver of the AMX was caught off guard.

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