The Wanderer
Cooper was just enjoying his view and the kids seemed to be having good, clean fun. There was a little monkey business—a guy grabbed a girl, stole a kiss, got punched, which made him laugh hysterically and then chase her, catch her, get a more receptive welcome the second time. The two guys with the boards went almost to the mouth of the bay, where the Pacific waves were high and challenging. Inside the bay was smooth as silk, dark as ink. Wet suits, very intelligent—the air was cold and the ocean much colder. But they were obviously pros; they barely got their feet wet. In the summer, Cooper bet there was a lot of snorkeling, maybe diving, maybe running surfboards out beyond the bay.
He shot a note off to his sister Rochelle and told her this was a pretty cool place, in fact. He had no idea what to do with it, though. Dry camping in the fifth wheel was not exactly convenient—he had to find a trailer park, dump the lav and reload potable water every few days. But he could at least run off the bar’s power and not his battery. He hadn’t told anyone in his family the extent to which he was tied to all this—he didn’t want any advice. His family, especially his sisters, was very good at telling him what he should do.
He saw the dog again, but not with the girl this time. A young man or boy was with him, throwing a ball for the dog as he walked. Husband? he wondered.
Then he saw the guy trying to give the kids on the beach a wide berth, walking all the way down to the surf to get by them without contact. The guys, six of them, two in wet suits, made a line across his path. The dog walker went the other way, headed inland for the hill, calling the dog to follow. The teenage boys reversed their position, blocking him again. The dog, half as big as a human, cowered behind his master.
Cooper, who had been in way too much trouble for fighting when he was younger, could see the fight brewing. He knew what was coming, and it was six on one. Then the guy who must be the ringleader shoved the loner. The loner stood taller; his shoulders widened a little, ready. The ringleader was seriously talking him down, leaning into him, verbally assaulting him. Then he shoved him again and the loner put his fists up.
“Not gonna happen, assholes,” Cooper said aloud to no one. He put down the laptop. Then he stood, put two fingers in his mouth and rent the air with a deafening whistle.
They all turned to see him standing on the deck of the now-defunct bait shop. His legs were braced apart, hands on his hips, and he watched. He hated bullies. He was ready to leap over the deck rail and barrel down to the beach to stand up for this guy, even though the guy, the loner, might be the problem. It didn’t matter if the loner had done something terrible, you don’t do that—you don’t attack someone in a fight that isn’t fair and balanced.
The teens watched him; he watched the teens.
Then the barricade wisely separated and the loner passed, headed for Cooper’s dock.
He wasn’t headed for Cooper. He went to the bottom of the steps that led up to the bar and sat. From there he threw the ball for the dog. Cooper let this go for about five minutes, then he descended to meet the guy. A very cranky-looking teenager looked up at him and said, “Thanks for that. I guess.”
“You guess? Would you rather I just watch them beat you up?”
“They probably wouldn’t have.” He looked back down to accept the Great Dane’s ball and throw it again.
“Probably wouldn’t have?” Cooper asked.
The kid shrugged.
“Have a little disagreement with your friends?”
The kid looked up and laughed. “Dude, they are not my friends!”
“Who are they, then?”
“Teammates. And that’s all.”
Cooper took another two steps down and sat on a step even with the kid. “You throw the last game or something?”
The kid gave him a very impatient look. He held on to the ball, all slimy with dog spit. The dog sat and panted happily, full of expectation. “You wouldn’t understand,” the kid said, finally throwing the ball.
“Wanna try me?”
The kid shot him an angry look. All defensive, hurt, full of impotent rage, and Cooper thought, Holy shit—that’s me! About twenty years ago or so...
“I’m the new kid,” he said. “Just moved here. Just in time for football, which was my fatal mistake. I wasn’t supposed to get on the team, much less make touchdowns. The asshole on the beach, he’s a senior. Team captain. He was counting on three things this year—being all-conference, being homecoming king and getting laid by every cheerleader in Coos County.”
Cooper had a strange reaction to that. First of all, being the new kid felt all too familiar to him. Getting in fights, though long ago, was fiercely memorable. Homecoming king—not Cooper! And cheerleaders? When he was in high school, he hadn’t been lucky enough to even date one, let alone anything more. He thought about Mac’s daughter, whom he’d met when he’d had dinner with the McCains a few nights ago. Eve was a lovely, virginal, delightful sixteen-year-old cheerleader who no one should be allowed to touch. Just to be ornery, he asked, “How many of those things are you going to rack up?”
The kid looked at him incredulously. “Seriously? Like I could ever get all-conference or get a date. Come on.”
“The kid who shoved you—who is he?”
A bitter laugh. “Jag Morrison. Crown prince of Thunder Point. And yes, that’s short for Jaguar, if you can believe anyone would name their kid that.”
“Shew,” Cooper said, shaking his head.
“Yeah.”
Cooper let that settle a little bit. Obviously there was some very bad blood there. It could be about anything—about this kid being a better ball player, about a girl, about anything. Finally Cooper asked, “Your dog have a name, kid?”
He laughed without humor. “Are you ready for it? Hamlet. It’s Danish.”
“You could use a tougher dog.”
“Tell me about it,” he said.
“How about you? Name?”
“How about you?” he shot back.
“Sorry,” he said, putting out his hand. “Hank Cooper. People just call me Cooper.”
The kid relaxed a little. “Landon Dupre.” He shot a glance at the teenagers on the beach, who were not going anywhere. It occurred to Cooper that they were looking for a second chance at bullying and intimidating Landon.
“Nice to meet you, Landon. So, what do your parents have to say about this new-kid issue you’ve got going on?”
“I don’t have parents.”
“Ah. So who do you report to?”
“Report to?” he mimicked with a mean laugh. “Gimme a break.”
“Look, I’m trying to figure out, in the nicest possible way, if your parents back you up, if you’re a street urchin, in foster care or just plain contrary.”
“I live with my sister,” he said. His voice dropped, as did his chin. It was either a measure of respect or misery.
“Ah, the girl in the red slicker.”
Landon looked up at him. “You know her?”
“I know the dog—she’s had him out on the beach a couple of times. He’s hard to miss, big as a horse.”
“And dumb as a stump.”
“Now, you shouldn’t put him down like that,” Cooper said. “You might damage his self-esteem.” Then grinned at the kid. “Why’d you get him?”
“My sister got him for me. He was a rescue—his owner had to deploy. It was her idea of some kind of consolation prize because she moved me right before my best season ever.”
The dog was back, dropping the ball, sitting expectantly, saliva running out of his jowls. “Hamlet, here, he has a drooling issue.”
“It’s horrible. I don’t know what was wrong with a good old German shepherd.”
Cooper laughed in spite of himself, happy he was not this kid’s guardian. “Why’d you move here?”
“Divorce.”
“You’re divorced?” Cooper asked facetiously.
Landon’s head snapped around at Cooper and, seeing his smile, melted a little bit. “She got divorced, couldn’t afford so much house, wanted a smaller town so she could keep track of me better—which I so appreciate, if you can understand. And she didn’t enjoy running into the ex. Now I get that, but really, do we have to move to Podunk, Oregon, where the natives just want to kick the shit out of me every day? Seriously?”
“Have you told her?” Cooper asked. He almost looked over his shoulder to see who was talking. This was the weirdest interaction he’d ever had. He sounded like his father.
The kid’s chin dropped again. “I’m not hiding behind my sister, dude. Besides, she’s got her own troubles.”
Cooper, who had big sisters, absolutely got that. But all he said was, “Is this ‘dude’ thing almost over? Calling everyone dude? I never caught on to that....”
“Well, dude, you might wanna catch up.”
“Or you might,” he said. “So, anyone back you up? I mean, anyone? Teachers? Ministers? Corrections officers?”
“Funny. You’re a real comedian.”
“I am, huh. But I’m serious, everyone needs a wingman. I got in fights when I was your age. I don’t know what it was about me....”
“Want a second opinion?” he said.
Cooper laughed at his sarcasm. “Okay, never mind. I think I’m catching on.”
“Ben,” Landon said. “Ben was my friend.”
Stunned, Cooper was silent. Then he put a hand on Landon’s shoulder. “He was my friend, too. I’m sorry, man.”
“Yeah. Well. Whatever happened? It shouldn’t have.”
He gathered strays, Cooper thought. He gave Rawley work, protected Landon and made sure Gina’s Jeep was running. Who knew how many others he helped? He protected the birds and fish. He had a lot of friends and no real friends. He took care of the town in his way, keeping this little piece of beach safe.
Five
The weather turned stormy not long after Landon finally made his escape across the beach to the town. The bait shop could get pretty lonely during a storm. Cooper guessed that with the wet Oregon weather, there were plenty of nights like this. So he showered in the trailer, then took the truck the short way into town, across the beach, and decided it was time to hit Cliffhanger’s for a meal.
It wasn’t crowded, which came as no surprise. He had watched the fishing boats come in before the rain clouds and the last of the sunlight left the bay, and he supposed those guys were happy to be home, eating a hot meal in front of a warm fire. There was a large hearth in the restaurant that could be seen in the bar and it made him think of Jack’s place in Virgin River. A lot could be done to that old bait shop of Ben’s to make it a cozier hangout—like a fireplace, for starters, he thought. Then he told himself to stop it—no matter what some piece of paper said, he really had no stake in it. He was only going through the motions for Ben’s sake. For some reason, his old friend trusted him.
He hadn’t expected to see a familiar face in the restaurant, so he was pleasantly surprised when he realized Mac was sitting at the bar, nursing a beer and talking to the bartender. He wasn’t dressed for duty tonight. Cooper approached and said, “Hey, Deputy.”
“Cooper,” he said, putting out his hand. “What brings you out on such a wet night?”
“Food,” he said, sitting up at the bar.
“Cliff, bring my friend Cooper a beer.”
“Cliff?” Cooper repeated with a short laugh. “That’s convenient.”
“Yeah, right,” the guy said. “What’s your pleasure?”
“Draft,” Cooper said. “This must be your place, Cliff.”
“Must be. Menu?”
“Thanks.”
“Just get the grouper,” Mac said.
Cooper peered at him. “And how do I want that done?”
“He’ll have the grouper. Just trust me. So, what’s happening on the other side of the beach?”
“Got most of the smell out, went through most of Ben’s things, donated, threw away stuff, you know. It’s not functional. Ben was working on that septic system way back when I was waiting for him to meet me in California. I guess he never quite got it fixed,” Cooper said.
“So, what next?”
Cooper drank some beer. “I don’t know. I’m thinking. I pulled down part of a wall—I don’t know if there’s mold or rot. Maybe it needs to be leveled. I don’t know.”
“You’re still here,” Mac observed.
He took another swallow of beer and shook his head. “Feels like unfinished business around here. I find out something new every day, but half the time it leaves me with more questions.”
“About his death?”
“About his life,” Cooper said. “How’d he make ends meet? He bought deli food from the deli, but he didn’t mark it up....”
“I think Carrie gave him a break,” Mac said. “He bought all his supplies, including liquor, from big-box stores and I bet he made a decent profit on that. I mean, there was no rent, right?”
“He took care of things. Of people. I have Rawley working again, for now.”
Mac grew serious for a moment, then put a firm hand on his back, as if to say thanks.
“I ran into a kid on the beach today who was Ben’s friend, so he says,” Cooper went on. “Ben’s created a habitat for those birds on the point. I feel like I should find out what Rawley needs before I leave. Like I owe it to Ben. I wonder, though...he took care of people but everything is broken down to the point of falling apart. How’d he live?”
“I don’t think making money was ever a priority of Ben’s, but don’t quote me. You probably know more about his business than I do. Than any of us do.”
“Well, he didn’t have much money, for one thing. And didn’t worry about it, from what I can figure out. Why didn’t he give that place to someone else? Why didn’t he give it to the town?”
Mac laughed. He took a pull on his beer. “The town would’ve sold it. Like I said, there are people in town who like things the way they are—simple. Then there are people who think a big business on the bay would be good for the town.”
“What do you think?” Cooper asked.
He gave a lame shrug. “I think a big business, like a golf resort or something, would turn us into a town full of busboys, waiters, maids and valets. I think it would put Carrie’s deli, the Pizza Hut and the diner out of business. But it could help the chamber of commerce and commercial fishermen, especially if we ended up with a five-star restaurant at that resort. You want to know what I’m talking about? Drive up to Bandon Dunes. People come from all over the world to stay there, play golf there, hold events from business conferences to weddings there. It’s really something. Very high-class. There’s a lot good about it. And the help comes from Bandon.”
“It’s work....”
“And not to be taken lightly,” Mac admitted.
“It could help the local economy,” Cooper said. “Increase the value of your property.”
“It could,” Mac said. “You’ve been here about a week. Have you told anyone about Ben’s will?”
“I might’ve mentioned I was responsible for the bait shop, but you’re the only one with the details. You and Rawley.”
“Well, Rawley doesn’t talk. People are already assuming things that are probably true—like that you own it. And you could sell it.”
“There’s still a little legal wrangling to be done,” Cooper said. “I don’t have to hang around for that, though.”
“Why are you still here?”
“As near as I can explain, I want to understand Ben’s intentions, if I can. That doesn’t mean I’m planning to meet his expectations—maybe I just can’t. But I owe it to the guy to see if I can figure them out before I make a plan.”
Mac glanced over his shoulder, glanced back and said, “Well, get ready to make a plan, Cooper. Incoming...”
Almost before he finished his sentence, a woman appeared. She was at least fifty-five, but trying to look thirty-five. Her suit was some kind of satiny red material, low cut to reveal her cleavage. The miniskirt exposed legs that were short, and her pumps were high, very high. Hair bleached blond, of course. Nails, long and red. She wasn’t dressed for church; in fact, she’d look pretty at home with a pole to swing around.
“Well, Mac, how are you?” she said, leaning toward the deputy for a cheek press and kiss-kiss. “And who is your friend?”
“Ray Anne, meet Cooper. Cooper, this is Ray Anne. Cooper was a friend of Ben’s.”
Her face crumpled on cue. “Oh, Cooper, I’m so sorry for your loss. Ben will be greatly missed.”
“Thank you. Pleased to meet you,” he said. But he knew beyond a doubt that Ben didn’t have a relationship with this woman. In contrast, he had understood Ben’s relationship with Rawley almost immediately.
There were a few minutes of chat, Ray Anne asking after Lou and the kids, wondering if any progress had been made on that traffic light in town. Did Mac hear anything about a “domestic situation” involving Charlie and Donna? To which Mac replied, “No, was there a situation?”
Without answering, she turned to Cooper. “I heard a friend of Ben’s was in town. How is everything out at his place?”
“A wreck,” Cooper said. “I’m exploring ways to deal with it.”
“Well, if you need any help, feel free to call.”
A business card appeared; she was a Realtor. Apparently, the woman knew sleight of hand. That card must have been in her hand the whole time, yet had remained invisible until her strike. Cooper looked at it briefly, looked back at Ray Anne, smiled and said, “Thank you.”
“I know every good contractor in the area, no matter what you need—paint, flooring, structure damage, anything...”
She knew everything. “Mold removal?” he asked.
“Yes!” she said, beaming. She tapped the hand that held the card. “Just give me a call. That’s my cell. Anytime!”
“Appreciated,” he said. The grouper arrived.
“There’s your dinner,” she said. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around town. Take care. And let me know if there’s anything you need, Hank. Always more than happy to help a friend.”
Mac and Cooper turned to their identical dinners. Cooper took a bite. “This is good,” he said.
“Told ya,” Mac returned.
“So, she knows everything. She probably knows my social security number. You introduced me as Cooper, but she called me Hank. I’d bet she knows the acreage on Ben’s place.”
“That would be my guess,” Mac said.
Cooper ate a little more grouper. “And I bet I could get laid for a couple hundred acres.”
Mac turned toward him and, with the slightest smile, said, “You can get laid for just talking about it.”
Cooper tried not to laugh, as Ray Anne was still working the room, taking a run on the bar, then stopping off at tables. “This common with her?”
“I think so,” Mac said, eating more of his dinner. “You’re the first newcomer we’ve had around here in a while, however.”
“You ever, um, experienced that?”
“The attention? Or the payoff?” Mac asked.
“Well, since we’re sharing confidences...”
“Cooper, I work in this town. My kids go to school here, my aunt’s a teacher here. Lou’s known Ray Anne a long time. In a word, no. I have truly dense areas in my brain, but not that dense. Really, she’s not my style. I never did have a mother fixation.”
“I never had a mother who looked like that,” Cooper said.
They ate in silence and by the time Cooper pushed away his plate, Ray Anne had left the restaurant. “So, Mac, did the family desert you tonight?” he asked.
Mac sat back. “Not exactly. It’s Lou’s bunco night with some good friends from Coquille and she’ll be out late. I picked up a pizza for the kids and ran for my life.” He wiped his mouth with his napkin. “I stood at the door, threw it in and said I’d be home in two hours. They jumped on it like starving hounds.”
“Two whole hours?” Cooper asked with a laugh.
“I have to check homework. If I don’t check homework, Lou’s on me like a cheap suit.”
“Checking homework. That can’t be so bad.”
“You checked homework lately, pal?”
“Whose homework do you think I’d check?”
“Well, that’s not the point, Cooper. The point is, it’s torture. If I were in school now, I wouldn’t have graduated sixth grade. In short, I’d rather give up a nut. But that’s the price of fatherhood.”
* * *
Lou stood in front of the bathroom mirror in only her panties, gently lifting her breasts. Then she took a side view and sighed. Although they were small, she felt they drooped to an unflattering degree; they used to be perky. She let them go. Then with her fingers gently pulling at her cheeks, back toward her ears, she wondered for the millionth time if she could look ten years younger with a face-lift.
“Lou, come back,” Joe called from the bedroom.
I’m not greedy, she thought. Just ten years.
She sighed again and went back to the bedroom. Joe Metcalf was fifty and, besides being handsome, he was in terrific shape. George Clooney shape. He was strong as an ox, wide-shouldered, flat-bellied, with long legs, big wonderful hands and beautiful teeth. As she approached the bed, he turned off the TV and opened his arms. “What were you doing in there?” he asked, his lips going immediately to her neck.
“We call it freshening up,” she said, tilting her head back to give him more of her neck.
“I bet you were brooding.”
“Now why would you say that?” she asked, pulling back.
“Because it’s something you tend to do. I think all our problems would be solved if you brought me out of the closet. Why are you keeping me a secret, Lou? Why am I still ‘bunco night’?”
She hesitated. It was so complicated. Mostly it was his age—ten years younger. Even though his hair would be gray if he grew it out, with that shaved head, he could pass for forty-five. “I don’t want the kids to feel vulnerable, to feel like my attention could be sliding away from them.”
“It won’t, Lou. We’ll spend whatever time together is reasonable for you. I have kids, too.”
“Yours are on their own.”
“Thank God,” he said with a sigh. He rolled onto his back but he kept an arm around her. Joe was the divorced father of a son and daughter, twenty-five and twenty-three, respectively. “They still have way too many needs, however. A wallet drain.”
“They’ll be married with children before you know it,” Lou said. “And so will mine. And I’ll feel like a great-grandmother. Oh, my God.” She dropped her head onto his naked shoulder.
He laughed at her and his hand found her ass. “Best-looking great-grandmother in the state, maybe the country.”
She lifted her head, messy red-gold curls flopping around. “When you’re seventy I’ll be eighty. Eighty.”
“Christ, like you’re screwing a nineteen-year-old. I hope I live to seventy. I can’t wait to see what you bring to eighty!”
Lou and Joe had met through an online dating service. They made a date for coffee and he looked, well, mature. When she asked, “How old are you?”, he answered, “How old do you want me to be?” She had answered, “Fifty-nine,” and he said, “Consider it done.”
It was weeks before she learned the truth. She thought he just looked damn good for his age, which men had an annoying tendency to do. It had been programmed that way by the world—men became distinguished while women faded and aged.
He’d been divorced for ten years, had tried dating from time to time but nothing really clicked and he wanted to meet someone he had things in common with who would join him for movies, dinner, social things. Oh, he liked to eat, went to movies seldom, but... “Okay, the truth? I wanted to have sex again before I died. With someone I liked.”
What a coincidence. So did she.
He was a retired air force colonel who now worked for the Oregon State Police as a trooper. It was his mission to retire, for the second time, at sixty. And now that he’d recovered from his divorce—his ex was remarried and his kids had completed college—he could count on a comfortable old age. Part of his job in Coos County was to assist the Sheriff’s Department. That was a little close for comfort for Lou.
“I don’t see why,” he argued. “Police people are like a family. They intermarry all the time.”
“Marry!”
“Well, we have to be going somewhere!” he said. “Besides, Mac and I get along fine. He likes me. We work well together when we have to.”