The Enigmatologist by Ben Adams

Author:Ben Adams [Adams, Ben]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Devil's Tower/Ravenswood Publishing
Published: 2016-04-30T04:00:00+00:00

They were a couple of blocks from Leadbelly’s when they saw it, a tent of clouded plastic, its white canvas peak rising above the black shingled roofs, a snowcapped mountain in the New Mexico desert.

“That wasn’t there when I left,” the sheriff said.

“Yeah, I’d hate to think you missed a clue like that,” John said.

The displaced trailer park residents clogged the street, blocking traffic on South Grand. Sheriff Masters turned on his siren. People parted, clearing a path for the squad car. The sheriff rolled up his windows and drove through slowly. Muffled shouts. A crowd in robes and tattered pajamas pointed toward Alamo Street. Large, armored vehicles blocked the intersection, barricading them. On the doors were stenciled stars with lines representing wings, a shooting star crashing to town. Sentries guarded the trailer park entrance.

Jimmy’s squad car was parked at the Stuff ‘n Pump. The sheriff parked behind it and jumped out. “Jimmy, what the hell’s going on here? I thought I told you to secure the crime scene?”

“Whoa, Uncle Lee,” Jimmy said. “I did. These Army guys showed up after you left. Dude, they had these papers, yelling about ‘proper jurisdiction’ or some shit. What was I supposed to do? They had papers.”

“They’re not Army,” John corrected him. “They’re Air Force.”

“Bro, what’s up?” Jimmy said. He stuck his hand up for a high-five. John ignored it. “So, you were talking to Rosa last night. She’s one fine piece of poonanny. I’ve been trying to get up in that for a minute now.”

“Goddamnit, Jimmy!” the sheriff said. “You should have radioed in, stalled them until I got back. I’d drag you out to the desert and tie your balls to a goddamn cactus if you weren’t my goddamned nephew. Now, watch how a cop is supposed to act.”

“So, seriously, bro, you hit that? You give her a Tijuana Toilet Seat?” Jimmy asked, his question reminding John that he’d never see Rosa again, and that some people who would didn’t deserve to.

The sheriff stomped toward the tent. John made sure the sheriff was out of earshot before turning to Jimmy, saying, “You remember that guy in the bar, right?”

“Yeah, dude, he was fucked up.”

“You ever talk about Rosa like that again, I’ll rip your fucking arms off. Got it?”

John didn’t remind him that it was Charlie and his friends who beat up the man, and that John was unconscious when it happened. He just walked away, leaving Jimmy standing alone by the cars.

John weaved his way through the crowd. They had surrounded the sheriff and were asking him why armed men had yanked them from their homes. The sheriff tried to be diplomatic, saying he’d get to the bottom of it, but became impatient, agitated, and pushed his way through them.

John and the sheriff squeezed their way to a strip of yellow caution tape that blocked the street. They bent underneath it and stepped into the empty road in front of the tent’s entrance. The walls of the tent were smoked, but blurred images moved behind them.

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