Where There's Smoke

“Hey, Possum! You ugly son of a bitch, how’s life treating you?”

While someone named Possum was expounding upon his successful feed and fertilizer business, Key happened to glimpse Lara. When he did a double take, her stomach muscles tightened. They held each other’s stare until Possum, so nicknamed no doubt because he bore an unfortunate resemblance to the marsupial, asked him a direct question.

“Sorry, what?” Key pulled his stare away from Lara, but not before Possum and others sitting nearby noticed who had momentarily captured his attention.

“Uh, I said…” Possum was so busy shifting his beady eyes between Lara and Key that he couldn’t restate his question.

Thankfully, the high school principal chose that moment to approach the lectern on the stage. He spoke into the microphone. It was dead. After fiddling with the controls, he blasted everyone’s eardrums with, “Thank y’all for coming out tonight.” He finally adjusted the volume and repeated his welcome.

Key promised to meet Possum the next day for a beer, then joined Jody and Janellen in the front row where the mayor had saved seats for them.

The meeting got under way, the school principal presiding. He introduced the Fergus Winston family, who emerged as a unit from behind the gold velvet curtains. Lara observed them with interest. The teenage girl, who was introduced as Heather, seemed mortified to be seen with her parents in such a public arena. Mrs. Winston didn’t appear to be on the verge of collapse as the school principal’s solemn tone suggested. A picture of health, she was fairly bursting with vitality. The stage lights made her red hair look like flames. She demurely slid her hand into the crook of her husband’s elbow.

Lara instantly distrusted her.

Fergus was a tall man with a perpetual stoop. Thinning gray hair inadequately covered his pointed, balding head. There were deep laugh lines around his wide mouth, but he wasn’t smiling as he took the high school principal’s place behind the lectern and gave his account of their harrowing experience.

By angling slightly to her left, Lara could see Key Tackett in the chair next to his sister’s. His elbows were propped on the armrests, and he was tapping his steepled fingers against his lips. His ankle—the one he’d sprained—was propped on the opposite knee. He was slouching in his seat, and his eyes moved restlessly about as though he was finding the proceedings exceedingly dull, as eager for them to conclude as a young boy in church.

Lara looked again toward the stage and saw that she wasn’t the only one watching Key. Mrs. Winston had him locked in her sights, too. Her expression was sly, almost smug.

“Well, that’s all I’ve got to tell y’all,” Mr. Winston concluded, “except to say to be on the lookout for any suspicious characters, any strangers around town, and to report any unusual happenings to the sheriff.” To applause, he relinquished the microphone to the sheriff.

Elmo Baxter was a slovenly man who moved with the speed of a slug and had the world-weary expression of a basset hound. “I ’preciate Fergus and Darcy sharing their experience.” He shifted his weight. “But don’t y’all get the fool notion of sleeping with a loaded gun under your pillow. If you see signs of a break-in or notice a stranger hanging around your neighborhood, report it to my office. Me or Gus’ll check it out using proper police procedure.

“Don’t go taking the law into your own hands, y’all hear? Now, me and the city council decided we need a Crime Watch committee like they have in big cities. This committee would organize folks in the different neighborhoods to keep a lookout on goings-on and help everybody stay informed. Naturally it’ll need a chairman. I’ll take nominations now.”

“I volunteer myself,” Darcy Winston announced in a clear, loud voice.

She received a burst of applause. Fergus squeezed her hand and looked down at her with naked adoration.

“And I’d like for Key Tackett to serve as co-chairman,” Darcy added.

Key jerked to attention. His boot landed hard on the floor, and Lara saw him wince. “What the hell did she say?” Everybody laughed at his stunned reaction. “I don’t even live here anymore. Besides, what do I know about committees?”

The amused sheriff tugged on his elongated earlobe. “I reckon knowing about committees isn’t a requirement, but if a man ever knew about taking care of hisself, it’s you. Right, Jody?”

She looked across Janellen at her son. “I think you ought to do it. Since when have you performed a community service?”

“Since he led the fighting Devils to the state championship!” Possum leaped into the center aisle and began waving his hands high over his head. “Let’s hear it for the fearsome number ’leven, Key Tackett!”

Others stood and joined the cheering. Antsy children used the interruption as an opportunity to escape their parents. Rowdy teens gave one another high fives as they raced for the exits. Regaining control was out of the question, so Sheriff Baxter placed his lips close to the mike and said, “All in favor say ‘aye.’ Motion carries. Y’all are dismissed. Be careful driving home.”

Lara was swept along into the aisle. Standing on tiptoe, she was able to see Darcy Winston imperiously motioning for Key to join her on the stage. She looked like a woman fully capable of shooting a fleeing lover in order to prevent getting caught with him. There was calculation in her perpetually pursed lips and tilted eyes.

“Excuse me.”

Lara responded to the polite request coming from behind her and stepped aside, then turned to apologize for dawdling. She came eye to eye with Janellen.

Janellen was caught in a hesitant smile that quickly turned into a small, round O of dismay. Unabashedly she gaped at Lara.

“Hello, Miss Tackett,” Lara said politely. “Excuse me for blocking the aisle.”

“You’re… you’re…”

“I’m Lara Mallory.”

“Yes, I…”