No Doubt

NO DOUBT

By

Jerry Lane

No Doubt

By Jerry Lane

Copyright 2009 Jerry Lane

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NO DOUBT

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

About the Author

Chapter One

I woke from a deep sleep with a heavy weight on my chest. I couldn't breathe. There was something foreign in my mouth. My eyes wouldn't focus past the orange blurs that attacked my face. I pushed against the weight with both hands and sat upright in bed.

I saw Butch and Bubba, my two half-wild tomcats at the foot of the bed. They attacked my toes with the same ferocity they used on my face. I kicked them off the bed. I screamed, Get out you vicious bastards. I barred them from the house for this activity. Scout, my Malamute, was lying on the floor at the edge of the bed. He looked guilty. I prefer to sleep alone with no animals on my bed or in my bedroom.

I took a long, hot shower. I brushed my teeth twice to get the cat hairs out of my mouth. I toweled off and looked in the mirror. The body still looks decent. The face looking back at me shows my true age. I had a couple red marks on my eyelids.

Butch and Bubba had been pawing at my eyelids during my REM sleep cycle. That’s why they don’t spend much time in the house. This has happened before. They are farm cats, orange beasts with heads the size of softballs. Together, they weigh close to forty pounds.

I dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved tee shirt. I went to the kitchen to make coffee. A full pot was warming and ready for me. I am not a sleep walker. I didn't remember making the coffee. I do not wake alert and ready for a new day. It takes two cups of coffee and one hour for me to fully wake. I am sure I didn't make the coffee in my sleep.

There was a note on the kitchen counter beside the coffee maker. It was from my part-time housekeeper, Mrs. June Johnson or Mrs. J as I call her. She came early to do laundry and cleaning. She made the coffee for me. God knows how early. It was now 7:00 AM and dark. Mrs. J is a farm wife. She never slept past 4:00 AM in her life.

The cats sneaked in when she came to clean. Butch and Bubba were in the attached garage finishing off the last few bits of Scout’s food. Scout watched them warily from the corner. He had a sheepish expression on his face. I believe he is ashamed to be afraid of them. They attacked him when he was a puppy. They ripped him up pretty good. The experience left emotional scars that never healed. An uneasy truce existed between the three of them as long as I was there.

Mrs. J gave me the cats when they were cute, tiny kittens. She believed no man should live alone in the country without animals. I reluctantly accepted her gift. I watched them grow into fearsome beasts. Mrs. Johnson is a little afraid of them. I checked the freezer. She left two apple pies and two gallons of hand cranked ice cream.

I threw Butch and Bubba outside. I took Scout with me to the deck on the west side of the house. I sat in a deck chair, drank my coffee, and petted Scout’s soft fur. The rising sun gave a little light to the west edge of my property. I listened to the morning sounds of insects and birds. I breathed in the sweet air as the morning sun brought my little corner of the world alive.

I finish my second cup of coffee. I am ready for the morning ritual of walking the grounds of my property. I slip a Smith & Wesson Chiefs .38 Special in my back jeans pocket, lace up my hiking boots, and walk the grounds. Scout walks beside me. The gun is more of an old habit than anything else. I semi retired from the private investigator, bounty hunter, fixer of other people’s problems business when my house was finished two years ago.

I am free to do what I want or don’t want to do. What I do now is enjoy the beauty of this rolling prairie on the edge of the high plains. I own four sections in Trego County, Kansas. I bought this land twenty years ago through the advice of my childhood friend Steve Jackson. He is an astute tax attorney and financial planner.

We maintained our friendship through the years. I have benefited greatly from his financial advice and friendship. It worked out okay for him too. I fixed a couple of problems for him. I earned good money from my career. I could not have afforded this house or retired early on my own. Steve is a genius with investments and anything financial. I have annuities that guarantee me a decent income for the rest of my life. It was his advice that I buy this land.

I rent all but a thousand feet by thousand feet area to Mrs. Johnson’s husband, Seth. I had the house built in the middle of the area and fenced off. I didn’t need that much space. I wanted it. Seth raises cattle and whatever crops are used to feed cattle. The soil is fertile. The rainfall is iffy in this part of Kansas. There is plenty of underground water for irrigation. There are oil wells on the two sections I own in the northern part of the county. I make a little money from the leases depending on the price of oil. The land and the house are paid for. I owe neither time nor money to anyone. The gun I carry is really for snakes. So far I haven’t seen any live ones. The orange beasts occasionally will leave dead ones as presents for me. I walk my property fence line to fence line, east to west and north to south and the two diagonals. The exercise is good for Scout and me.

I know I am a lucky man. I chose this area for its natural beauty and lack of people. The entire county has a population of 3,319 people at the latest census. The county seat and most populous city, Wakeeney, has a population of 1,924. I believe the population density is less than four people per square mile. That translates into no crime, no gangs, no drugs, etc. It is a wonderful place for me to live. The farms are large and spread out. I think they are only three towns in the whole county. It is a large county. Now that I’ve lived here a while, I can’t imagine living anywhere else.

I finished my rounds, put the gun away, and went into the house. It’s nearly 8:00 AM. It is time for my morning workout. I walk to the workout room in the basement. Five minutes of warm-up stretches, thirty minutes of free weights, five minutes of cool-down stretches, and I am ready my Tai-Chi practice. I do several sets of basic and advanced forms. I do each set three times at different speeds. I think about hitting the heavy bag for a while. I decide against it. I tend to push myself too hard. Two hours of strenuous working out is enough for a man soon turning fifty.

The Tai-Chi workouts are exhausting. The Tai-Chi I do is not the one you see old people doing in parks. Tai-Chi is actually the most lethal of all the martial arts. I have practiced martial arts for twenty-five years and Tai-Chi in particular, for twenty years. I am not a natural athlete or graceful by any stretch of the imagination. I just work hard at it every day. I have become good over time. It saved my butt a few times.

The business I retired from was violent at times. That is in the past. No more violence in my life. I do my workouts for spiritual and emotional well being. A quick shower and it is 10:00 am. Time to see what the outside world wants from me. I pay a few bills. I check the phones for messages. I have two phone lines. One I usually ignore. One that is for friends and relatives, calls that I might return.

There is a message from Steve that says, It’s urgent. Call me ASAP. I’ll be in my office the rest of the day. I have a favor to ask you. I don’t like the sound of that but call him immediately. He answers on the first ring.

"Hey buddy, how you doing?''

I’m fine but you didn’t call to ask me that. Cut the bull and tell me what you want.

Is that any way to treat an old friend, the man that made you wealthy?

I am not wealthy. I am just comfortable. You said something about a favor.

Everyone should be so comfortable. You’re so damn comfortable that you won’t leave your country estate for anyone. You’ve become a recluse. You spend too much time alone. Another year out there alone in the sticks and you’ll be nuts rambling around that big house all by yourself.

Steve, you’ve known me forty years. I’ve always been a recluse. You just helped me get the money to do it in style. And it’s not an estate. I am happy here. What is this urgent favor of yours that I know will disturb my serenity?

Seriously, old buddy. This one is important to me. Something only you can handle. Please?

Is this for you personally or for someone you know? I’m done fixing other people’s problems.

It’s for a client. Now quit busting my balls on this and come to the big city for a couple of days. Get away from country living. Get some smog in your lungs. It’ll do you good.

No! I’m retired. I like it here.

I might be able to get tickets to the traveling Monet exhibit that’s coming next month to the Nelson Art Gallery. At least think about it. It really is important. You know I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t.

I already have tickets for the exhibit. I’ll call you in a couple of days but the answer will still be no.

The tickets I have aren’t general admission. They’re for a special showing before the opening. The general public won’t be there. You wouldn’t have to fight crowds.

I’ll think about it.

That’s the old college spirit. But call me by tomorrow at the latest.

We hung up at the same time without goodbye. He knew I couldn’t say no to him and to seeing Monet. I will never own a Monet. I could see a real one instead of the prints that hang on my walls. I guess I will drive out there. I'll see what is so important. It will be good to get out of the house. I might visit my sister in Wichita on the drive home from Overland Park.

It’s noon and time for breakfast. I cook three eggs over medium heat, low sodium bacon along with Mrs. J’s biscuits and gravy. I don’t eat a morning meal. My doctor thinks it’s strange eating breakfast for lunch. My physicals and lab tests are excellent. I ignore his advice to change my diet.

I drink a cup of coffee on the deck. I watch the eagles and hawks soaring overhead on thermal updrafts. I love all animal but birds of prey and big cats fascinate me. Scout lays his head on my leg and looks up me. His pale blue, wolf eyes plead for another walk. He is a 130 pound lap dog. He is a good watch dog. He scares the hell out of delivery drivers. They leave their packages at the front gate. They don’t bother ringing the bell. The chain link fence and high-tech security system should keep intruders at bay. Scout would stop anyone he doesn’t know. You never know. I made enemies as well as friends in my former profession.

Scout walks beside me as I check out the three gardens around the house. One is for sunflowers. I planted it as a memorial for my mother. There are over a hundred varieties of sunflowers. Sunflowers were my mother’s favorite. I am ashamed to admit that I didn’t know that until my sister told me at mom and dad’s funeral. It’s sad that you can know someone your whole life and yet, not really know them.

The second garden is wildflowers. The last garden is roses and other flowers. I don’t even know their names. I planted them because I like the way they looked. I don't have a green thumb but the soil is fertile and the irrigation system ensures that all three gardens prosper in this arid climate.

I feel good today. There is a nagging restless inside me. My life is better than I ever hoped it would be. But still, there is an edge of loneliness that I bump into from time to time no matter how busy I keep myself. I can’t blame my isolated existence on the barren landscape. The lonely edge has been with me since childhood. I think it is part of who I am.

I go into the library, sit in a recliner, and begin reading Larry McMurtry’s Lonesome Dove. I’ve read this book so many times that I know it by heart. I have trouble concentrating this afternoon. I think about my mother, father, sister, ex-wife, and different times of my life. Introspection is a natural part of aging. Too much of it is a waste of the present time.

I fall asleep in the recliner. I dream about my ex-wife. That’s a sure sign that I need a woman in my life and something to fully occupy my time. I wake up with Scout licking my hand. I rub the fur on his massive head. I say Good boy. What are we going to do to fill up the rest of this day?

Christ, I am becoming an old man that lives alone and talks to his pets. It’s time for action. I am inclined to think too much. I once loved a woman who said to me You think too much. Shut up and fuck me. I miss her.

I go into my office. I check the fax machine. Steve has sent all the information he has on the case. Walter