Book 3: Dobie’s Dilemma

Episode 9

© by William Arthur Holmes

She Fell for It

She fell for it. Hopefully, anyone listening in did, too.

There was no way I was staying in South Dakota. Where I’m from, it gets cold – even snows – but that only lasts a couple months. That’s six or seven weeks longer than I would like, but I can deal with it.

I packed my bags, threw it all into the back of the Escalade, and backed out of the garage. I left the house keys in the house, knowing the automatic locks would secure the door behind me. Then I remembered how much the neighbor Charlie loved that car.

I pulled out of my driveway and into theirs, leaving the engine running, got out and rang their doorbell. When there was no response, I knocked.

Larissa’s cheerful voice jumped out of the doorbell speaker. “Clif! We’re not home. What can I do for you?”

“Hey, Larissa. I’m leaving town for a while. Won’t need my car. Thought I’d give Charlie the opportunity to drive it and me to the bus station.”

“Bus station? Why?” She said it like she was horrified to think anyone would take a bus anywhere.

“Long story. I’ll tell you all about it someday,” I lied. I would never be seeing her again. And I was truly sad about that.

The reason for the bus was that I assumed my car and phone were tracked and I didn’t want anyone knowing what I was up to. Bus stations allow for anonymity, last I checked.

“Okay, well, we’re both at work. Sorry.”

“I figured as much but had to at least offer. See ya ‘round.”

“Thanks for thinking of us, Dobie. Have a good trip!”

She was always so nice. I’ll miss her... more than she’ll miss me. She was a little too eager to say goodbye. I have to assume she had a crush on me but, for the sake of her marriage, was grateful to not have me right next door, tempting her. You know how it is. That, or she could not have cared less.

I thought about walking to the bus station. Needed to get my steps in. Joking. I have never once counted them. My phone has, but I never asked it to. I do like to challenge myself with a long walk once in a while, but it was too hot that day, and I had luggage.

I drove to the bus station, parked the Escalade, locked its keys inside, and texted Marshal Laura telling her where to find it. Locking the keys inside the house and car was harder than anticipated. It’s such an ingrained habit to not do that. Muscle memory is a powerful thing.

As I stood outside the bus terminal, I remembered Griffin; his sister, Rachel; his ashes. If she hadn’t scattered them already, she’d be doing it soon.

Sioux Falls is closer to Colorado than Tennessee is, I but didn’t know where or when the ceremony would be. Rachel and I had exchanged information… on my old phone. I could log in through a browser, but that would send my old phone a secret code that I would never see.

My latest phone and keys were locked in the Escalade’s glove box. Good planning!

Inside the terminal, I got in line to buy a ticket. I was running through contingencies in my head when two men in US Marshals wind-breakers came through the main doors. The one in charge pointed his partner in one direction while he went the other, scanning faces like they knew who they were looking for.

How had they tracked me here this fast? I must’ve been under 24/7 surveillance, after all. Seemed excessive for little old me. I thought they only did spot checks.

It was now obvious that Larissa and Charlie were my surveillance team. Were they really husband and wife? Were those even their kids?

For all I knew, Jordan was a 40-year-old little man in drag. Joking! She was a miniature version of Larissa, so those two had to be mother and daughter.

With 20/20 hindsight, their friendly neighbor act felt staged, but there was no time to dwell on it. I needed to disappear.

To throw the Marshals off my scent, I purchased three bus tickets, all headed in different directions. One west – maybe I could see Griffin off properly, after all. One north – into Canada, kicking off an international manhunt, which is always fun. And one southeast – my original destination, Nashville.

Going back to the car for my phone was out of the question. I picked up a burner phone, dark glasses, and a Greetings from Sioux Falls cap from the gift shop – my impromptu disguise. Not much, but it was all I could do in the moment. The cap was one of those flimsy – cheapest quality possible – type of hat you’d find at a truck stop.

I kicked myself for not having a contingency plan ahead of time. Contingency plans after the fact don’t cut it.

The Scattering

With my new phone, I texted Marshal Calista, asking her to keep an eye out for my old phone – the one she’d given me before it was replaced by the South Dakota team – if she still had access and it hadn’t been wiped. If she could retrieve the code before it expired, I had a shot at getting into my old records and finding Rachel’s number.

For now, I had to keep moving. Somehow, I managed to avoid the Marshals and board one of the three buses.

As the engine hummed to life and the city became a blur behind me, a tune slipped into my head uninvited. Country roads, take me home, to the place I belong...

Was that Griffin, talking to me from beyond the grave?

~ ~ ~

I got a hold of Rachel and arrived at the scattering – as she called it – just in time. It was at a scenic overlook along the shoulder of the Interstate. I would have done the same for Tim but never got his family’s contact info.

Several Harleys were parked among the many vehicles of family and friends who had made the trek. One of the Harleys had a sticker saying Jesus Loves You. On the next line down, much smaller, it said I think you’re an asshole.

I had to laugh. Then everyone got quiet.

In a semicircle behind Rachel and her husband, we all stood in a dirt area between the end of the pavement and a low rock wall separating us from the sheer cliff on the other side. Her husband – handsome, bearded, tallest among us – held Griffin’s urn. With the wind at our backs, facing that low rock wall, he removed the receptacle’s lid, held it up high and, with a nod from Rachel, tilted it downward. Just enough for the granules to gradually spill out.

The wind took it from there, scattering his ashes in uneven trails across the dirt, over that little wall, and down the cliff. Then the wind shifted, and sent ashes out onto the highway. Griffin would have no distinct resting place, no headstone to return to. Just the windswept release of what was left, settling into the land like a final breath, and it felt right.

Rachel murmured something – a farewell, maybe, or a promise – and the others around her did the same. I wanted to offer my own goodbye, but had no words, just stood silent.

Country roads, take me home to... “where the road meets the sky.” Griffin was going home. Everywhere and nowhere.

Finding Cori and Darla

In Nashville, I went looking for Cori and Darla, in that order. Cori was still living in our house, which was no surprise. It hadn’t been that long, but I was loathe to assume anything lately. She had changed the locks and installed a security camera but was not home at the moment.

XeGirl barked happily, hearing and/or smelling me through the door, and I realized I missed her more than I did Cori. I showed Cori’s security camera my middle finger, a juvenile reflex which triggered an unfortunate response.

“What do you want?” Cori’s voice out of the speakers sounded like a fast food drive-thru.

“Oh, hey, Cori. Everyone’s got these doorbell cams now. Just trying to get into my own house. Checking to see if we’re still married. You know.”

“We’re still married...” she began.

My first thought was “Crap!” which surprised me.

“...until you sign the divorce papers. I’m glad you came. Stay right there. I’ll have my lawyer bring the papers over.”

“I’m not going to stand around, waiting for your...” I began, then saw the neighbor lady – the one who took care of XeGirl and whose name I kept forgetting – cutting across the lawn toward me. My first thought was that she should have stayed on the pavement like Larissa made Jordan do back in South Dakota.

In her mid- to late-50’s, with wiry salt-and-pepper hair, a bit on the portly side, the neighbor lady marched right up to me and handed me some papers. As I took them, she paused to catch her breath and said, “Dobromir Sean Riley Pokorny, you have been served.”

“Served? With what?”

“Read it,” she said, uncomfortable. She was normally a very nice woman but was now playing the part of a hard-ass lawyer.

I turned toward the doorbell camera. “Seriously, Cori? A summons and divorce petition? What the hell? Why do you hate me so much? I’d really like to know. What exactly did I do... other than be a smart-ass, which you always said you liked?”

“Nothing in particular,” she said after a moment. “It’s the little things, and it all just sort of faded away over the years. We never should’ve gotten married in the first place.”

I nodded. Made sense, actually. I probably only married her for her looks, which is never a good idea.

“The last straw,” she continued, “was that time I surprised you at the motel – for fun, remember fun? – only to find you with another woman!”

“I explained that already. She was taken into Witness Protection but I was not. She was just worried, checking up on me.”

“So worried that she was topless when I walked in?”

“She wasn’t topless.” To the neighbor lady, I said, “She had her bra on.” Back to Cori’s doorbell cam I said, “but, yeah, that surprised me, too. After you left, though...”

“I don’t want to hear what happened after I left.”

“Hey, you said she could have me, and it sounded like you meant it. I had nothing to lose at that point.”

She was silent. Rolling her eyes, I’m sure.

The neighbor lady stood by, listening as if to one of her soap operas.

“You wanna know what the final, final straw was, Dobie?”

“Yes, please.”

“I drank from your cheap-ass paper cup, and you joked, ‘I guess you were thirsty! Ha-ha.”

“That was it? I don’t get it.”

“That’s the problem, Dobie. You don’t get how tiresome your jokes are. I’m sorry, but I can’t take it any more. Have him sign the papers, Gloria, and let’s be done with this.”

“Gloria!” I said, ignoring Cori for the moment. “I couldn’t for the life of me remember your name! Sorry. I’m terrible with names, but I should remember Gloria. There are at least three songs by that name that I know of.”

She gave me an uncomfortable look, saying nothing, and I realized I was over-explaining things again.