Tommy's Tool Town - Chapter 44 - The End is Near

Mick Daniels inhaled deeply and thought of Disneyland.  The scene before him looked like something from a freak show. 

He'd had it.  Never before had he admitted defeat, but this battle was one he knew he couldn't win.  He'd never seen such a mass of idiots assembled under one roof.  The mere fact that the store even ran inefficiently was a miracle the likes of the Virgin Mary appearing in the dirt on the side of a back hoe.

He felt his blood pressure rising, felt heat in his face.  Larry Dale stood still by his side, his mouth agape.  If Dale couldn't fix this, no one could.  Their best hope was to be hit by a meteor, fill the hole, and sell the land to WalMart.

Daniels was a praying man.

He prayed for a meteor.

"Whatcha thinking about, boss?" Larry Dale asked, his voice gentle.

"A meteor, or an asteroid," Mick Daniels admitted.

Propriety had gone out the window.  Mick Daniels had finally begun to manage his own expectations, and at this point, he hoped to survive the day.

"Why, boss?" Larry Dale inquired thoughtfully.

"I was thinking it would be a good time to get hit by one," Daniels admitted.

"Don't give up, boss.  Let me see if I can get this under control.  We'll see what we dig up, which is likely something an animal buried, then we'll see if we can counsel these folks, get this back in order."  Larry Dale appeared unshaken, if not a bit shocked.  His faith in his own ability calmed Mick Daniels, but only slightly.  Daniels finally lost it.

"EVERYONE SHUT THE HELL UP!" Daniels yelled.

Surprisingly, everyone did.  The silence was almost deafening.  No one moved for better than three minutes.  Finally, the silence was broken by the backfire of an arriving Tommy delivery truck.  Aaron Faulkner was at the wheel.  Ada MacKenzie was in the passenger seat.

"What in the sam hell?" Kitty Richardson whispered.

The last thing this party needed was a geriatric maniac dressed like Miley Cyrus.

Kitty ran to the truck and collided head on with a disembarking Aaron Faulkner.  Both fell to the ground in a tangle one might liken to a failed game of Twister, or Saturday night Cinemax. 

"This is just terrific.  Let's pause for an orgy," Daniels growled.

"It was clearly an accident, boss.  Let 'em get up before you start passing judgment," Larry Dale said, his voice tinged with an anger and frustration Mick Daniels hadn't heard before.

Aaron Faulkner looked toward the sky.  The scenery was broken by the lined face of Ada MacKenzie.  Kitty Richardson lay by his side with her eyes closed. 

"You break it, you buy it, young fella," Ada said, before turning her face to the sky.  "Dear Baby Jesus, please bring a fella for my Kitty.  She's a fine girl, and she mixes a mad margarita.  A little light on the Patron, but no one's perfect.  She'd be good for a drinkin' man."

"Grandma, put a sock in it," Kitty whispered, and Aaron Faulkner exhaled in a rush.  He tortured himself every day about the fire in Albuquerque.  He'd never be able to forgive himself if he killed a woman.

"Don't you be petulant with me, child," Ada growled.  Kitty sat upright and removed Aaron Faulkner's hand from a place it shouldn't be, unless he came bearing flowers, a ring, and a nice place in the country with a couple of cats.

"Why is she here?" Kitty said to Aaron Faulkner, whose face was a nice shade of crimson.  Kitty brushed a dirty handprint from her already stained Tommy shirt.

"She climbed in the truck and wouldn't get out," Aaron said, getting to his feet.  He offered a hand to Kitty, who took it. 

"How in the world did she get in the truck?" Kitty asked.  "She can barely climb stairs."

"It was rather a miracle of sorts," Aaron said.  "It was like something clear out of the Senior Citizen Olympics.  One second she was on the ground, and the next she was in the truck.  You should offer up a word of thanks.  She tried to get in my side, but couldn't get the door open."

"Great God, now do you see what I go through?" Kitty asked in a whisper.  "Now do you see why I am such a freak?"  Tears welled in Kitty's eyes.

"You're not a freak," Aaron said in Kitty's defense.

"Yes, I am.  You don't think I know what people think of me.  I am that aging spinster who has a lot of pets and lives with her mother and her grandmother.  I am the most undesirable of creatures."

Aaron Faulkner was a thoughtful guy, but he was beginning to get uncomfortable.  He never knew what to say to a crying woman, and in desperation he did the unthinkable.

"I live in my mother's basement," Aaron whispered.

"You do?" Kitty said.  Her tears stopped in an instant and she smiled.

"It's a real chick magnet," Aaron Faulkner admitted.

"Don't feel bad.  My relationships all end after the meeting of the family," Kitty said.

"All right!" Mick Daniels yelled from just behind Aaron.  Kitty jumped, and Aaron reached out to steady her.  "Why don't you two desperados just join EHarmony.  We've got business to attend to!"

"My grandmother!" Kitty said, looking around her.

"What about her?" Mick Daniels said, his patience finally fully spent.

"I don't see her!" Kitty yelled, her voice rising toward hysteria.

"Dear Lord in heaven," Mick Daniels complained.  He walked away and climbed on top of a stack of pallets.  "Everyone listen up!  Kitty's grandmother is among us and she's lost track of her.  She's here somewhere.  Let's find her and then we're gonna dig this place up.  If you've got something buried out here, you're going to be exposed.  Then you're going to be fired."

Before Daniels could climb down from the pallets, the growl of a running back hoe filled the air.  Everyone turned. 

Kitty gasped.

Daniels went pale.

Larry Dale took off running.

The backhoe was on the move with none other than Ada MacKenzie at the wheel.

A single customer stood at the back of the pack, his face set into a smile that looked more like a sinister sneer.  This was all going far better than he could have ever expected.

Tool Towners scrambled.

Ada squealed with glee and shouted in a voice that rose high above the clatter of the backhoe.

"HI HO SILVER AWAY!"

By some miracle, Ada managed to drive the backhoe to the where the ground was disturbed.  She maneuvered with a skill that paralyzed everyone.  One by one, buckets of dirt were removed.

Kitty stood like a corpse. 

She was going to prison.

For a long time.

She'd probably end up in a cell with a woman named Wanda who only knew sixteen words, and couldn't spell any of them correctly.

She'd die.

In jail.

Stockwell began to shiver.

He was going to prison, too.  He wasn't worried about his cellmate.  He'd be dead by the end of the first day.

Longworth nearly peed himself.  He began wishing for a day of shopping with his wife.  Anything was better than being beaten in the prison yard like an eight-year-old boy with glasses.

A few more buckets and the boxes would be visible.

Boxes covered with the DNA of three prison-bound Tool Towners.

Larry Dale screamed at the top of his lungs.  He moved frantically, and tried unsuccessfully to grab Mick Daniels as he ran by.  Daniels was on the move like a streaker at a European sporting event, and Larry Dale's fingers barely touched the fabric of Daniels' now soiled dress shirt.

"Get off that thing!" Daniels yelled.

The Hell's Angels stood together.  Toothless Louise still clutched the greasy bag.  Stockwell grabbed for it.  If he was going to prison, he was going with a full stomach.  The fries were cold.  He ate them anyway.

Miles Longworth began to pray......  "The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want.  He maketh me to lie down in the prison yard and play dead......."

Ada MacKenzie swung the backhoe's bucket around after dumping a load thankfully free of anything that resembled guns or stolen money.

The hole was about four feet deep.  The bucket cut the air with a gentle "whoosh," and made contact with a frantic Mick Daniels.  Daniels flew like a rag doll and landed in the hole with a thump.

"Holy shit," Longworth said.  All thoughts of prison were momentarily abandoned. 

The backhoe fell silent, as did the group.  One by one they approached the hole.

Daniels lay supine.  His eyes were closed.  One hand covered his bloodied face.  The other held a small object, dirtied by its condemnation to the earth.

Larry Dale helped Ada exit the backhoe.  She toddled toward the hole.  Kitty couldn't speak.  Her grandmother had finally done it.  She'd killed a man.

The Tool Towners stood silently over the makeshift grave.

Larry Dale tried to call 911, but his hands were trembling too much to dial even three numbers.  Instead, he dropped to his knees, the phone silent in his fist.

Bernice cried and held tightly to Penelope's hand. 

Mags stood in awe, knowing in another life, she'd been the one in the hole.

Stockwell tossed his cookies.

The Hell's Angels clung to each other.  Hannah Bandana removed her hat and placed it over her heart.

No one said a word. 

No one could.

Kitty clung to Aaron, who was as pale as a ghost.  Finally she broke the silence, her voice laced with grief and fear.  And disbelief.  "Grandma, what were you thinking?  Do you see what you've done?"

"Sure as shootin'," Ada said, without a hint of regret.  "I've found my goll darned teeth!"

We now pause for a commercial break

Due to unforeseen circumstances, and time constraints the equivalent of trying to shove two pounds of Ada's magic brownies into a one pound baking pan, Tommy's Tool Town will not be posted this week.

Tommy's will return next week, and you won't want to miss it!

We now return you to your regularly scheduled programming.

Rock on, Tool Towners!!

Love,

Kitty

Heaven has acquired a new Holden.  Godspeed, old fella.  Say "hello," to Kitty's daddy when you see him.

Tommy's Tool Town - Chapter 43 - Hell's Angels? Can You Dig It?

"All set, boss!" Larry Dale said, sporting a satisfied grin.  "H.D. Diggers sounds a bit like he has a nasty head cold, but he said he'll be by in about thirty minutes.  What shall we do while we wait?"

"Well, we could gather all these dimwits together and lead them toward a cliff, and hope they all go off like a bunch of freakin' lemmings," Mick Daniels said, as he surveyed the offerings of the break room vending machine.

"Jeepers, when you have a bad day, boss, you have a bad day," Dale remarked.  "Try the Skittles, boss.  It says they make mouths happy."

Daniels turned away from the vending machine and headed toward the lockers. 

"Whatcha lookin' for, boss?" Larry Dale asked.

"I swear I smell scotch.  I figured it was coming from that Faulkner guy's locker," Daniels surmised.

"Really?" Larry Dale asked.

"Let me tell you something, Larry Dale.  That Aaron Faulkner is a heck of a guy, but, - and I'm only telling you this because I know you'd like to advance in the company one day - when you got a fellow that drinks and sets stuff on fire, you've got yourself an enormous problem."

"He said the fire was an accident.  I was standing right there," Larry Dale said, in obvious defense of the appliance manager.

"I heard him," Mick Daniels said.  "Look, Dale.  I give the guy a fair shake, but he was in the break room, he was tipsy, and suddenly he was running like Forest Gump, and the break room was on fire."

"Let me ask you this, boss.  If you looked to your left and noticed a fire, would you run?" Larry Dale asked.

"I might, Dale," Daniels said with a groan.

"I rest my case," Dale replied.

"Let's go see if my lemming theory might work.  You're beginning to irritate me," Daniels commented, with an obvious frown.

Mick Daniels rather stomped from the break room - which was not on fire - and Larry Dale obediently followed.  Both sped up when they heard commotion from the front end.

"Great," Daniels said.

Three men in Mad Mike's Electrical Service jumpsuits had gathered at self checkout.  Self checkout number five was shooting sparks. 

"What is going on here?" Daniels demanded.

Reeve Stockwell was in heated discussion with all three men.  One of them waved his hands in frustration.

"That one must be Mike," Larry Dale said, pointing to the hand waver.

"What makes you think that?" Daniels asked.

"He looks mad," Larry Dale said, sounding delighted by his own wit.

"Pretty soon I'm going to ask you to wait in the car," Mick Daniels said, and Larry Dale chuckled again.  "Stockwell, what's happening?" 

"Well, sir.  I was in my office waiting on my lunch, and I heard Bernice scream.  I came out and this was happening," Stockwell said, pointing at the still sparking self checkout five.  "We've used Mike's guys many times, and they happened to be here getting parts for another job."

"The Universe works in mysterious ways," Larry Dale muttered.

"Dale, put a cork in it," Daniels said with frustration.

"Where might I find a cork, boss?" Larry Dale asked.

"Check Faulkner's locker."  Miles Longworth had just sauntered up front, and offered his two cents.

Without warning, the power went out.  Almost immediately, it was back.  Self checkout five rebooted itself in thirty seconds, and flashed into the "on," position.

"Whatever they did, it seems to have worked," Longworth surmised.

Everyone's head turned as a distinctive whirring became more pronounced.  Every ceiling fan in the lighting area was spinning fast enough to launch a Space Shuttle. 

"Holy shit," Larry Dale whispered.  "That can't be good, boss."

"Mike!" Reeve Stockwell yelled.  "Something's not right!"

All the jump-suited guys turned, and one ducked.  "Incoming," the man yelled frantically.

The fans had taken all they could and were coming apart at the seams.  A pink and white fan decorated with dainty strawberries exploded, and Penelope screamed and dove for cover. 

One unit caught everyone's attention.  A beautiful special order piece with chrome plated blades was spinning like a helicopter's propeller.  "Sweet Mary, mother of God," Daniels whispered, as he began inching toward the door.  Mags Davidson was shuffling customers into the vestibule.  One blade let loose, missed Mags by a fraction of an inch and hit the door.  Glass shattered, and Mick Daniels screamed like a Girl Scout in a haunted house. 

"Everyone out!" Daniels yelled when he had composed himself.  This insane asylum is closed until further notice!"

"Not bad timing, boss.  Diggers just pulled in," Larry Dale said.

"Great.  Longworth, get everyone out, then come out back.  Stockwell, you find that Kitty woman and Mags, unless she gets killed first, and report out behind the building.  Provided we find nothing that puts you all away for twenty-five to life, we may reopen tomorrow.  If my memory serves me correctly, this is the second time in less than a month this store had been closed during working hours."

Five minutes later, a forlorn group, some dressed in neon green, was assembled behind the building.  With the store closed until further notice, several Tool Towners had shown uninvited.  Bernice and Penelope were perched upon a pile of pallets.  Daisy Cates was chewing the nail on the middle finger of her left hand.

Those present by request looked far more uneasy.  Kitty rocked from one foot to the other, and shot terrified glances in the direction of Longworth and Stockwell.

Stockwell hadn't gotten his burger, and had unsettling thoughts of Toothless Louise banging on the front door of the now closed Tommy's, while her Ford Escort sputtered in the parking lot and further damaged the environment.

Longworth was regretting the third cup of coffee he'd had and desperately needed to find a men's room.

Mags stood quietly with her hands shoved in her pockets.  She was still shaken after narrowly escaping "death by fan."

H.D. Diggers had unloaded the backhoe, and approached the group.

"Larry Dale?  Is there a Larry Dale here?" H.D. asked in a raspy voice. 

"Mr. Diggers?" Larry Dale said, from where he stood alongside a seriously ticked-off Mick Daniels.

"Mister?" H.D. said, sounding suddenly feminine. 

"My apologies, ma'am," Larry Dale said, as H.D. slipped out of a Carhart, revealing that Diggers was definitely not a mister.

"The name's Hannah.  H.D. Diggers is the company name.  Diggin's what we do," Hannah said.  "You were brief on the phone.  Wanna give me the low down on the purpose of my visit here?"

"One of the staff believes they saw something illegal taking place out here," Mick Daniels said authoritatively.  "Ground's been disturbed.  If something was buried here, I'd like to know what."

"Seriously?  I don't want no monkey business, and no trouble.  I left that life behind.  I live by the book nowadays.  I get the urge to get into somethin' and I go dig somethin' up.  Why, I don't even go to Sturgis anymore.  Last time I got arrested," Hannah rambled, and Daniels rolled his eyes.  His lemming idea was sounding better and better.

Maybe I can get her to dig me out a huge cliff, Daniels thought.

"Did I hear someone say Sturgis?" Daisy yelled from amongst the crowd.

"Color me nostalgic, is that Crazy Daisy?" Hannah yelled.

"Is that Hannah Bandana?" Daisy yelled back.

"You are a sight for sore eyes," Hannah said, pulling Daisy into a fierce hug.

"You are a sight for sore everything.  Did you ever think we'd get this damned old?  You still ride?  I'd like to, but nowadays I can't even swing my leg up over a curb, let alone a bike."

"What the hell is going on here?" Mick Daniels asked.

"We used to ride together," Daisy said.  "Believe it or not, we used to be Hell's Angels," she added, and Hannah guffawed enthusiastically. 

"We were so hot!" Hannah said.

"We sure were.  My God, those were the days.  Nothing out in front of us but open roads.  Hair blowin' in the wind," Daisy reminisced. 

"Dear God," Mick Daniels muttered.

Hannah screeched again, and jumped up and down.

"Now what?" Daniels growled.

"Holy crap, it's Toothless Louise!" H.D. said.

"Thank God.  My burger," Reeve Stockwell mumbled.

"She's a Hell's person, too?" Daniels said.

"Sure as shootin'," Hannah remarked.  "It's a Hell's Angel's reunion!"

"Well, this is just grand," Daniels yelled.  "It's a God forsaken reunion.  Anyone have anything they'd like to add?  Is it anyone's birthday?  Anyone want to have a freakin' Bar Mitzvah while we're out here celebrating?  ANYONE?  SURELY SOMEONE MUST HAVE SOMETHING!!!"

"I recently did a cleanse and lost five pounds," Larry Dale said.  "I feel pretty great.  If I was at Weight Watchers I'd get a pin.  Maybe I could get a sticker or something, boss?"

"Shut up, Dale."

Tommy's Tool Town - Chapter 42 - Into The Lion's Den

Larry Dale looked stunned. “You aren't serious about hurting folks, are you, boss?”

“Of course not,” Mick Daniels replied. “I'm a nice guy. I know people don't always think that, especially since I normally show up when things are so out of control I have to deliver the wrath of God, but I'm a nice guy. Don't you think so, Larry?”

“Of course, boss,” Larry Dale replied. “I sure didn't think you meant you wanted to kill your employees, but for a moment, and it hurts me to say this, you looked a little like a madman.”

“I could use a vacation,” Mick Daniels said, pouring himself a cup of coffee from the sewage left over from the morning's meetings. He grimaced at the acidic taste.

“Where would you go, boss? Where would you go if you could go anywhere?” Larry Dale asked thoughtfully.

“I'd go to Disney World,” Mick Daniels said. The words were out before he could stop them.

“Seriously?” Larry Dale asked.

“That cat's out of the bag,” Mick Daniels admitted with some hesitation.

“Why there, boss?” Dale asked.

“Never went. Always wanted to. You know how life is, Dale. One day flows into the next and the next, and before you know it, you're fifty, and you've never even been to Disney World.”

Larry Dale frowned.

“What?” Mick Daniels asked.

“I've never been there either, sir,” Larry Dale admitted.

“Wow.”

“Perhaps we could go, boss. Take a little trip. Lord knows we sure could use it, and I hear Disney has some of the finest accommodations of anyplace on the planet. Wouldn't be nothin' like that nasty Three Fellows Inn we found ourselves at last night.”

Mick Daniels just stared at Larry Dale.

“Something wrong, sir?” Larry Dale asked.

“You're a heck of a guy, Larry Dale, but two grown men do not go to Disney World together. It would seem a little odd, don't you think?”

“Now that you mention it, boss.”

“You go with your family and I'll go with mine,” Mick Daniels said. He lifted the coffee to his lips again, took a timid sip, and nearly vomited into his own mouth.

“You got a family, boss?” Larry Dale asked.

“No,” Mick Daniels said softly.

“Come with us then. You could be like Uncle Mick. We'd have a terrific time. The heck with hotel living. We could camp.” Larry Dale paused as his blue eyes danced. “I got it!! Wait for it. Wait for it. We could rent an RV. How much fun would that be? We could take a road trip.”

Larry Dale spoke animatedly as Daniels threw his coffee down the sink. “Stop, Dale,” Mick Daniels said.

“Pardon?” Larry Dale said.

“We're not renting an RV and driving to Disney World. We're renting a back hoe and figuring out what's going on here. When that's done, I'm going to put in my two weeks notice and consider a future in goats,” Mick Daniels said, without humor.

“Goats, boss?”

“Goats. Gonna raise me some goats, make me some milk and some cheese, and give 'em all names. I'm gonna be a goat farmer,” Mick Daniels rambled. All grammar, professionalism and etiquette had gone out the window.

Figuring his boss had finally lost it, Larry Dale picked up his smart phone and got down to business. His fingers flew over the keyboard. “The backhoe company is HD Diggers. Sounds like a respectable place. Let me get them on the phone,” Larry Dale offered.

****************

Reeve Stockwell ran through the events of the last few days in his head. There was something he needed to talk to Ada MacKenzie about, but he couldn't possibly remember what it was. He was almost certain it had something to do with brownies, but he just couldn't put his finger on it. What he desperately needed was a double cheeseburger from Ernie's Filthy Bar & Grill, a large coke, and an hour nap. Ernie made the best burgers in town, and while the place was a dive, and the service lousy, for the burger, you just put up with it. If Ernie's girlfriend, Toothless Louise was working, she'd deliver. Toothless Louise had lost her teeth playing ice hockey in college, and later fighting in dives similar to the one she now worked in. She was proud of her dental challenges, and didn't mind the nickname – which, rumor had it – she'd given herself.

Stockwell picked up the phone and dialed the number he'd long ago committed to memory. He sighed when he heard the voice.

“Toothless Louise, how's it going? Reeve Stockwell here. I'll take a number three with a side of ranch, and can you deliver?” There was a pause. Toothless Louise mumbled “twenty minutes,” and promptly hung up. Stockwell smiled despite the fear that picked at him. With a belly full of beef, fries and Coke, he might survive the day after all.

That feeling lasted two whole minutes. He opened his office door and saw Alejandro pushing a stove on a neon green Tommy flat cart. Ada MacKenzie was perched on top of the appliance, and held the bailing twine like reins. She whinnied like a horse. Stockwell slammed his office door and pretended he hadn't seen it.

It was just easier that way.

****************

Aaron Faulkner punched out, covered his Tommy shirt with a Seymour's Redemption Center Bowling Team sweatshirt, and headed toward the front door. He could swear he still heard Miss Ada whinnying, so he figured she hadn't paid for the appliance yet. He really wanted a beer, but it was a new year and he'd promised himself he was going to stop drinking, at least during working hours. He'd been doing pretty well until he met Miss Ada. She'd make a teetotaler want a shot.

The whinnying stopped, and Aaron figured they were finally outside, or Miss Ada had suddenly died. He supposed when one was ninety-nine, one could just die at any moment, even while sitting atop a brand new stove.

Aaron shuffled through the store, approached the exit doors, waited while they parted, and stepped outside. Alejandro was helping Miss Ada dismount, Kitty was dabbing at her stain with a hand sanitizer wipe, and an older fellow, whom Aaron was left to assume was Mike Hammer, stood beside a blue compact car, talking a blue streak to – Aaron concurred – a dead president or the invisible rabbit from the movie Harvey.

“Ready?” Ada asked.

“Let me get this on the back of the truck and we'll head out,” Aaron said.

“We'll lead,” Ada said, pointing to Mike Hammer, who was still jabbering away. “Excuse me!”

Mike Hammer turned.

“Who is it this time?” Ada asked.

“Roosevelt,” Mike Hammer replied.

“Darn it. I had a message for Kennedy,” Ada replied, shrugging her shoulders.

Aaron loaded the stove onto a dolly, and pushed it up the ramp into an enormous Tommy delivery truck. Kitty approached him.

“This is the address. You lead,” she suggested.

“Gotcha,” Aaron said. He climbed into the truck, waved to Kitty, and headed out, but not before plugging the address into the truck's ancient GPS. Aaron figured with any luck they wouldn't end up someplace like Mount Vernon, but Aaron figured Mike and Ada would probably be just as happy if they did.

By some miracle, ten minutes later, Aaron was parked in front of Kitty's house. From the exterior, it appeared to be a well kept ranch with an enormous addition on the back. Aaron assumed it was where Kitty made her home.

The interior was another story all together.

Aaron stood quietly on the porch while Ada fumbled to get the key in the door. Finally successful, she swung the door open wide, and Aaron exhaled in a rush. The kitchen was straight out of the seventies, red carpet, white counters with gold fleck, and paneled walls. The entire house smelled like burning rubber.

Aaron gagged.

From the next room a voice loomed.

“Mother, is that you?”

“That is Helen,” Miss Ada whispered. “She is watching her stories. Do NOT bother her. She's like a dangerous animal. If you don't let her smell your fear, she'll leave you alone.”

Aaron shivered a bit, and nodded that he understood. “Miss Ada, do you drink?” Aaron whispered.

“I might have a little cooking sherry and some Robitussin. You feel a cough coming on, son?” Ada asked.

Aaron nodded, as his gag reflex triggered again.  "I think I feel a pneumonia coming on," he said.

 

"I'll hook you right up," Ada offered, with an enormous smile that revealed half a set of very white teeth.

Tommy's Tool Town - Chapter 41 - Patty Cake, Patty Cake, Back Hoe Man, Dig me a Hole, as Fast as You Can.

Larry Dale picked up his smart phone and began tinkering away, as Longworth, Stockwell, and Mags Davidson filed out of the conference room.

When they were gone, Mick Daniels audibly groaned.

"Are they for real?" Daniels asked.

"Seem to be," Larry Dale replied, without looking up.

"It's like someone turned on the ding bat magnet, and they all arrived here by some mystical force," Daniels said with awe.

"There are forces at work we don't understand, boss," Larry Dale commented.  "Ah, here we go.  There's a back hoe operator not far from here.  Shall I give him a call, sir?"

"Not quite yet.  Let's take a walk out back.  I could use some air, and if the ground isn't visibly disturbed, I'm not taking this any further," Daniels decided.

"All righty, boss.  Let's take a look," Larry Dale said, sounding as enthused as an eight-year-old boy with a Tonka truck, heading out to a dirt pile.

This was not lost on Daniels.  "Dale, let me ask you something.  Is there anything that riles you?"

"Not much, sir.  Personally, I have to admire these folks for being brave enough to be themselves."

"Even though you've met them?" Daniels asked.

"More so," Dale replied.

"Larry Dale, you are a strange man, but I like you,"  Daniels admitted.

"I like you too, sir," Dale said, standing and approaching Daniels, as if he intended to hug him.

"That's close enough.  Let us not forget we shared a bed last night," Daniels said.

"You are quite right, sir.  We did at that.  How's about we head out back and see what's what," Larry Dale suggested.

"How's about we do," Daniels replied without thinking.  He grimaced, and fully expected to be shot dead by the grammar Gods.

****************

Twenty excruciating minutes later, Ada MacKenzie had finally selected a new stove.  Aaron Faulkner was exhausted and really needed a Bloody Mary.  Kitty Richardson, out of an unexpected compassion for the new addition to the Tommy staff, stayed close at hand.

"You're sure, Grandma?" Kitty asked.

"Absolutely!" Ada exclaimed.  "This one is absolutely perfect.  Self cleaning, for all those kitchen mishaps we seem to have."

"Does that happen frequently?" Aaron Faulkner asked Kitty.

"I'm on a first name basis with the volunteer fire squad," Kitty groaned.

"Ouch," Faulkner replied.

"Yeah.  And, to make matters worse, SHE-" Kitty said, pointing to Ada - who was busy sticking her head into yet, another oven - "always asks every fireman if he's single."

"She's just looking out for you," Aaron Faulkner said thoughtfully.

"I know," Kitty said, smiling at Ada, who was singing Patty Cake, and had made her way to the part about putting the cake in the oven.  "She's disappearing before our eyes," Kitty surmised, as her eyes moistened. 

"I'm sorry," Aaron Faulkner said softly.  "At least she's doing it in style."

Kitty laughed out loud.  "You ready, Grandma?" she asked.

"I am.  Let's go," Ada suggested.

"Um....," Kitty began.  "How did you get here?  Is Mom in the car?"

"That MC Hammer brought me.  That nice fella from next door," Ada replied.

"Seriously?" Aaron asked, looking impressed.

"It's hammer time," Ada said, breaking into a dance that made her look like she was having a seizure.  She lost her balance and fell against Aaron, who caught her with grace.

"Grandma, dear God.  His name isn't MC Hammer.  It's Mike Handler, and he's kind of a creep.  I told you to stay away from him.  He's not right in the head," Kitty warned.

"He has a brain tumor.  He sees stuff sometimes, like dead presidents and shit," Ada said, before apologizing for her language.  "I like his wife.  She's nice."

"Miss Ada, darling, why don't you sit here by my desk for a moment," Aaron said, guiding his customer to a rolling chair.  Kitty watched but said nothing.  "It's none of my business, Kitty, but I don't feel comfortable putting her in a car with a guy with a brain tumor," Aaron Faulkner said when he'd returned.  Ada was spinning wildly in the chair.

"Neither do I.  Between the two of them, they could end up in Mount Rushmore, shooting the breeze with a rock," Kitty said.

Aaron paused for a moment, as if deep in thought.  Kitty figured it took a bit to chisel through the alcoholic fog.  "I am heading to lunch.  I'd be glad to follow them home, and although it's against the rules, I could pop the stove in a delivery truck and get her cooking by nightfall," Aaron said.

"Great!  I should probably change this shirt before the fire department arrives," Kitty said, looking down at the Tommy shirt and the coffee stain that had not faded a bit.

"Hang tight.  Let me see if I can get Alejandro to help me get the stove loaded, and we'll be on our way.  She can pay for it up front,"  Aaron suggested.

"Sounds like a plan," Kitty said.

Aaron Faulkner picked up the phone and dialed three numbers.  He mumbled a bit, delivered an audible "thank you," and promptly hung up.  "All set," he said.

From the corner of her eye, Kitty saw Mick Daniels and Larry Dale approaching.  Daniels reached out and stopped the chair from spinning.  Ada stared up at him with the focus of a Mardi Gras participant.  She'd been spinning for nearly four minutes. 

"She get a stove?" Mick Daniels asked.

"She did indeed," Aaron Faulkner replied.

"You been drinking, son?" Daniels said with suspicion.

"Not today, sir," Faulker replied.

"FAULK!" someone yelled, in a slightly Irish accent.

Daniels stood straighter.  His eyes narrowed.  "Who is that?" he asked.

"Tis me Alejandro, sir," Alejandro said.

"And what did you say before that?" Mick Daniels asked.  Aaron fidgeted.  Alejandro didn't miss a beat.

"I said Faulk, sir," he replied to Mick Daniels, who had taken the stance of a high school principal.

"And you say that frequently in the store?" Mick Daniels asked.

"Every time I see this fella here, I do," Alejandro said, pointing at Aaron Faulkner.

"That language is not acceptable here," Mick Daniels chastised.

"Tis only the man's name, sir," Alejandro said.

"Your name is fuck?" Mick Daniels asked Aaron Faulker.  Larry Dale burst into a fit of giggles.  "Stop," Mick Daniels said to Dale, who was unable to comply.  Instead, Larry Dale walked away in complete hysterics.  "I asked you a question," Mick Daniels said, his voice laced with intolerance.  He was glaring at Aaron Faulkner.

"Someone's name is fuck?" Ada asked.  "Who in the world would name their child that?"

"Grandma, stop.  You're not helping," Kitty pleaded.

"You mean to say I just bought an appliance from a man named--"

"EVERYONE STOP!" Daniels yelled.  "What is your name?"

The question was directed at Aaron Faulker.

"There are some who call me....... Tim," Alejandro said, and Larry Dale's laughter went up a notch.

"I am not speaking to you.  You are on the verge of getting fired," Daniels said to Alejandro, before directing his attention back to Aaron Faulkner.  "What is your name?"

"My name is Aaron Faulker, sir," Aaron said.

"Sweet Mary, mother of God," Daniels almost whispered.  "You set the Albuquerque store on fire, didn't you?"

"It was an accident sir," Aaron Faulker said, his head down.

"I set fires all the time.  No big deal," Ada added.

"Grandma, be quiet," Kitty said.

"You are to address him by his first name.  If I hear you say that again, I will fire you.  I can fire you, you know that, right?" Mick Daniels said to Alejandro.

"Yes, sir," Alejandro said.  His tone had an air of seriousness, and all accents had been set aside.

"Good.  Behave yourself.  And, you.  I best not ever find you with any kind of device that makes fire.  No lighters, nothing, and certainly not a pack of matches from some dive bar with the name Betty on it and a chicken-scratch phone number," Daniels directed at Aaron.

"That is cruel," Ada said.  This time Kitty didn't shush her.  She let her speak.  "You don't have to talk to him that way, sir.  And personally, I don't care who you are.  I don't care if you're the guy who invented spandex, which I adore by the way.  You can't fire me.  This young man treated me like gold, when in reality I'm an old lady who dresses badly, has no bottom teeth, and can't remember if I put on a bra.  He might drink and set shit on fire, but you could learn a thing or two from him about how to treat folks."

Kitty gasped.  Alejandro, Aaron and even Larry Dale applauded.

"My apologies, Ma'am," Mick Daniels said.  His face was beet red.  He grabbed Larry Dale by the arm, and turned on his heel.  The two walked away.

Daniels mumbled.  "Let's order that back hoe, and let's do it now.  Let's dig up anything that might be out back, expand the hole about ten feet, and then let's put all these idiots in it."

"That sir, is murder," Larry Dale remarked, his face ashen.

"Shut up, Dale," Mick Daniels growled.

Tommy's Tool Town - Chapter 40 - Something's Always Cooking

Everyone stared at Larry Dale, who produced a cell phone from the inside pocket of his suit jacket.

"You have a back hoe on speed dial?" Reeve Stockwell asked bravely.  Mick Daniels rolled his eyes.

"Of course not, Mr. Stockwell.  I am merely Googling.  I'm sure I can produce exactly what we need.  You all have one of these smart phones?  Why, they're a lifeline.  I have a GPS, I can text my wife from anywhere on the planet, and I can find a back hoe operator in the middle of nowhere."

Larry Dale has a wife.  Crap! Kitty thought. 

A knock sounded at the door to the conference room.  Everyone turned.  Barbie Baxter's torso filled the glass of the door.

"We asked not to be disturbed," Mick Daniels said.  Although it was obvious he was still angry, his voice was gentle and professional.

"I need to speak to Kitty.  Someone is here to see her," Barbie explained.

"Who?" Kitty asked.

"ADA," Barbie mouthed, and Kitty shivered.

"Dear God," Kitty whispered.

"Who is this Ada person?" Mick Daniels asked.  "Is she a customer?"

"She is today.  She needs to buy a stove," Barbie replied.  Ada appeared behind Barbie.

"Stella, I've got a problem!" Ada yelled.  Obviously, she'd forgotten her hearing aide.

"Grandma, don't yell," Kitty said, rising from her chair as Ada plowed into the conference room.

"Stella?" Mick Daniels asked.

"Kitty's real name," Reeve Stockwell said.

"Grandma, what happened?  You can't keep barging in here.  I'm trying to work," Kitty whined.

"Work?  Looks like you're having a party here," Ada said. 

"Well, we're not.  Why do you need a stove?  What's wrong with the one in your kitchen?" Kitty asked.

"I sorta baked your mother's slippers," Ada explained.

"What?" Kitty asked.

"I cooked Helen's slippers.  Those old blue ones with the sole that flops like a swimming fin," Ada said.

Larry Dale laughed.

"How did you cook Mom's slippers?" Kitty asked.  Everyone in the room was riveted.  Even Larry Dale set his smart phone aside to listen.

"She washed them and put them in the oven to dry.  I wanted to bake a cake, so I set the oven to preheat.  Ended up baking us some slippers instead.  Smells just awful, like cooked feet."

"Ewww," Larry Dale said with a chuckle.

"All right," Mick Daniels said.  "I'm going to stay here with Mr. Dale, and we'll work on getting someone to investigate this situation out back-"

"What situation out back?" Ada asked.

"It's store business, Grandma.  Don't concern yourself with it," Kitty said, shuffling Ada to the door. 

"Stockwell and Longworth, I want the two of you to return to your duties, although I shudder at the thought of what that might mean," Mick Daniels said.  "Ms. Davidson, you are also free to return to the Front End, but do not leave the store.  The four of you will be present when we begin our investigation of this situation out back."

"Does this have anything to do with my missing teeth?" Ada yelled from the hallway.

"Why would she say that?" Daniels asked.

"She's a little bat shit," Longworth said. 

"What would you like me to do?" Kitty asked from the doorway.

"Get someone to help your grandmother pick out a new stove, and suggest your mother find another method for drying her bedroom slippers," Daniels suggested.

"I'm on it," Kitty said, not wasting any time with her escape.

Kitty, who'd been holding her breath, exhaled in a rush.  Ada shuffled beside her.  Kitty led her to the appliance department, where new manager, Aaron Faulkner, stood before a computer terminal typing like a madman.

"Hey, Aaron," Kitty said, and Faulkner turned.

"Hey," Aaron Faulkner said, turning his attention quickly back to his computer.

"You busy?" Kitty asked.

"Pretty busy," Aaron replied.

"You're watching YouTube," Kitty noticed.

"You didn't ask what I was busy doing," Aaron Faulkner said defensively.  He slurred slightly, and Kitty frowned.

"Have you been drinking?" Kitty asked.

"Not today."

"You smell like a brewery," Kitty whispered.

"The remains of the day," Aaron Faulkner said.

"What day?" Kitty asked.

"Yesterday-"

Kitty smiled.  "Oh."

"And probably the day before that, too," Aaron admitted.

Aaron Faulkner had a little trouble with the bottle.  He was a lovable fellow with a great sense of humor, who spent a lot of time napping in the break room.  He'd worked in Tommy stores all over the country.  Kitty figured every time the boozing got out of control, Aaron Faulkner got transferred.  He was like an Army brat, without the fatigues.  He'd been everywhere.

"Who's this adorable gal?" Aaron Faulkner said thoughtfully, and Kitty could have sworn that Ada blushed.

"My grandmother," Kitty said, taking Ada's hand. 

"Nice outfit, Granny," Aaron said, and Ada curtsied.

Kitty hadn't even noticed Ada's latest get-up, and for that, she thanked God and all the saints.
Her grandmother looked like an aging cheerleader, Varsity sweater, short skirt, leggings, and her traditional Chuck Taylors.

"Where do you come up with this stuff?" Kitty asked with a chuckle.

"Saw it on Nickelodeon," Ada admitted.

"Well, I don't want to keep you from your fashion show.  What can I do for you, young lady?" Aaron asked, and Kitty smiled.  Alcoholic or not, he sure did have a way with the customers.

"She needs a new stove," Kitty said.

"I done cooked me up some slippers this morning.  Whole house smells like a locker room now," Ada explained.

"Well that's no good," Aaron Faulkner said, finally closing his YouTube app.  "What did you have in mind?"

"It's gotta be gas," Ada said.

"You don't like an electric stove?" Aaron asked his customer.

"I live with Helen.  She's a maniac.  Trust me, if you lived with Helen, you'd want a gas stove.  I think about putting my head in it at least half a dozen times a day," Ada complained, and Aaron Faulkner laughed.

"She's a trip," he commented.

"You have no idea," Kitty admitted.

"You married, sir?" Ada asked, and Kitty groaned.

Here we go again.

"No," Aaron said.

"You wanna be?" Ada asked.

"I'd like to, but I got a little problem with the booze," Aaron admitted.

"I got a little problem with my bowels, and I keep losing my teeth.  We all got problems, son.  Life's easier if you have someone to share the burden.  I sure do miss my old fellow.  Never a day passes that I don't miss him.  Find someone to go through this life with, and hang onto her, or him, if that's the team you play for.  Don't settle for being alone.  You could end up living with someone like Helen," Ada said, and Kitty found herself tearing up.  She rarely saw the serious side of her grandmother.  "My granddaughter is a lovely girl.  Could have a few less pets, but she's a very good girl.  Ain't she a beauty?"

Kitty imagined she looked like she had thanksgiving with Mowgli.  Her hair was a mess, and she'd splashed coffee on her Tommy shirt. 

"She's a cutie, all right," Aaron said, smiling at Kitty.

"I'll tell you what," Ada said.  "You hook me up with a good stove, and get someone to bring it out to me.  Hopefully, you can take the old one, even though it's got slippers melted onto the inside of it.  We'll get it all hooked up right, and I'll make a nice dinner.  What do you like to eat?" Ada asked, and Kitty sighed.

"I'd eat just about anything," Aaron Faulker said.

"How's about some old slippers?" Ada asked, flashing a smile that included only her top dentures.

"Okay, maybe not anything," Aaron said.  The phone rang on Aaron's desk, and he excused himself.

"Grandma, what happened to your bottom teeth?" Kitty asked, when Aaron Faulkner was out of ear shot.

"That's what I was trying to tell you," Ada whispered, all together too loudly.  "I lost them that night we was out back and I fell in the hole."

"Holy shit!" Kitty nearly screeched.

"Stella, watch your mouth!" Ada chastised.

"Grandma, I am in a world of trouble.  Those men in the back, they're getting a back hoe to dig up the back yard.  Mags saw us out there that night.  She thinks we buried JJ out there."

"Who?" Ada asked.

"One of our cashiers went missing during the tornado scare.  Mags is convinced she's dead, and when you rolled into the hole, Mags was watching.  She thinks we killed JJ.  Can you imagine?  Mags actually thinks I killed someone."

"I think about killing Helen at times.  Maybe brew up a pot of morphine tea.  That nice paper boy could probably hook me up with something," Ada fantasized.

"Grandma, stop!  Listen for a minute.  This is serious.  They're getting a back hoe operator out here and they're going to investigate.  When they find guns and money and your dentures, do you know what's gonna happen?" Kitty asked.

"Sure do.  I'm gonna be able to eat fried chicken again.  I can hardly wait!" Ada exclaimed.

Tommy's Tool Town - Chapter 39 - A Deeply Buried Truth

"JJ Patricks has been murdered, and I think she's buried out back," Mags said through a sob.

Everyone stared at Mags.

Mick Daniels cleared his throat. 

Larry Dale straightened his tie.

Kitty Richardson, Miles Longworth and Reeve Stockwell thought about clicking their heels together in the hopes that it would take them anyplace but where they currently stood.

Stockwell's in-law's house.

Clearance shopping with Longworth's wife.

Thanksgiving with Helen and Ada.

Even Turkish prison would have been better.

No one clicked.

It wouldn't have worked anyway.

"Everyone is dismissed," Mick Daniels said authoritatively.

The Tool Towners all regained use of their limbs in unison, and prepared to leave.  Daniels cleared his throat again.

"Not you three," he said, pointing in the direction of Longworth, Stockwell and Kitty. 

The "three" stared at each other.

Mags stared at her feet.  "And certainly,  most certainly, not you," Daniels directed at the forlorn Mags.

"Mr. Dale, I will need your expert assistance.  We will be meeting in Stockwell's office straight away.  We won't be breaking for five, or taking a smoke break, or holing up somewhere to get our stories straight.  We'll be meeting immediately.  Let's go," Mick Daniels said, and Kitty shivered.

Mags hadn't moved.

"Ms. Davidson," Mick Daniels said, taking Mags' arm.

****************

A man stood in the shadows.  He blended with the customers, and his attention appeared to be directed at the tool set in his hands.  He couldn't have cared less about the tool set.  He was watching the scene unfold twenty feet away. 

His plan was working beautifully.  Everything was falling apart, just like he'd been certain it would when he set it in motion so long ago.

He remembered the day he'd found out.

He remembered how angry he'd gotten, how cheated he felt.

At that moment, he had vowed revenge. 

He'd take everything back that was rightly his.

He wouldn't have to wait much longer.

****************

Stockwell unlocked his office and opened the door.  He silently thanked God the mess had been removed.  His office was spotless.

Daniels shook his head.

"Clearly we cannot meet in here.  It's not large enough, and it smells like Doritos.  Junk food is bad for your health.  You work sixty hours a week, Reeve, you should think about taking better care of yourself," Daniels said thoughtfully, although rage still burned in his dark eyes.

I'm going to prison, Reeve Stockwell thought.  Who cares what I eat?  I won't last twenty-four hours in prison. 

I wanted to play football in high school.

I played clarinet.

I don't lift weights.

The last heavy thing I lifted was a two-liter bottle of Mountain Dew.  

I'm gonna end up with a four-hundred pound roommate named Earl who likes tall, skinny guys.

I'm as good as dead already.

"Stockwell, you with us?" Daniels asked a blank-looking Reeve Stockwell.

"I am, sir.  We could meet in the conference room out back," Stockwell suggested.

"That sounds fine.  Let's go," Daniels said.

The posse moved through the store with efficiency.  No one spoke, save Larry Dale. 

"If I may suggest, sir.  We should get a team to clean up the pumpkin mess.  Seems you've a speck of it on your shoe, sir," Dale added.

"Good hell, get it off!" Daniels said furiously.

The group stopped to allow Daniels to clean his shoe with a handkerchief Larry Dale produced from his coat pocket.

"Better, sir?" Larry Dale asked.

"Shut up, Dale!" Daniels said, sounding furious.

"Would anyone like coffee?" Kitty asked, when the group was assembled in the conference room.

"That would be lovely," Larry Dale said.

"Everyone, sit!" Mick Daniels said.  "This isn't some damn dinner party.  Nobody needs coffee or tea, or little cucumber sandwiches with the crusts removed.  This store is the biggest thorn in my rear end, and now you've got this crazy woman saying there's a body out back.  Who is this JJ Patricks person, and why in the hell does this woman think she's been murdered?"

"This woman has a name.  It's Mags Davidson," Mags said defensively.

"The Mags Davidson who appears on all the Worker's Comp forms?" Daniels asked.

"One and the same," Miles Longworth admitted.

Mags looked down at her hands.  For several seconds, no one spoke.  Larry Dale broke the silence.

"If I may, what makes you think this Ms. Patricks is buried behind the store?"

Larry Dale looked at Mags, whose stare was still fixed on the table in front of her. 

"I saw," Mags barely whispered.

Kitty almost peed herself.

Stockwell began to twitch beside her.

Longworth prayed for death.

Mags saw them.

They were screwed.

Kitty began to consider a life behind bars, as Stockwell had only moments before.  She looked lousy in orange.  It did nothing for her strawberry hair, and cadaver complexion, and not even the finest tiara could dress it up to make it anything but incarceration wear.

"Shit," Kitty whispered.

"Ma'am?" Larry Dale asked, and Kitty paled.

Kitty didn't know what to say.  Stockwell just stared at her.  Longworth fidgeted uncontrollably.

"Ma'am?" Larry Dale repeated.

"I was just thinking about something I forgot to do," Kitty said, and Stockwell exhaled in such a rush, it sounded like someone had suddenly let all the air out of their inflatable date.

"While I'd love to get your itinerary, Ms. Richardson, what I'd really like to do is have Ms. Davidson recount this event she seems to think she's seen."

Mags shivered, and wrapped her arms around herself.  "I saw someone dump and bury a body out back.  JJ has been missing.  I guess I just connected the dots," Mags said through a ragged breath.

"Well, I can only think of one solution to this problem, sir," Larry Dale said.

"And that would be?" Mick Daniels asked.

"A backhoe."

Son of a bitch, Kitty thought. 

They were so, so screwed.



















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