tell.
I went down the stairs slowly, and stood at the bottom looking into the lighted hall to where the coat rack used to stand near the wall, just inside the front door. It was gone all right.
The old post office style clock on the hallway wall chimed once for the half-hour to indicate twelve-thirty. I had to get to bed, it didn't matter if the coat rack was gone--for whatever reason--and it didn't matter I couldn't puzzle it out. Oil and tire changes at Herb's didn't take a lot of brain power, but it did take someone who wasn't sleepwalking. I needed sleep.
The next morning I felt groggy and a little hungover. I passed by where the coat rack had stood and wondered briefly why anyone in the world would want to steal it and nothing else. It had been worth maybe two bucks at a garage sale, nothing special about it. But I was in a rush. I didn't have time for puzzles. I got a big travel mug of coffee to take with me, jumped in the truck and drove to Herb's.
The place was hopping. Saturday always was, what with the farmers and ranchers bringing in their trucks and cars for minor repairs, and the townspeople bringing in vehicles they didn't have time to see about during the work week. I stayed busy until noon and my lunch break, so busy I never even got to finish my cup of morning coffee.
When I walked out, lighting a cigarette, to make my way to the pharmacy cafe around the block, I wasn't ready, not at all ready, to come around the corner and discover it was gone. The pharmacy wasn't there. In its place was a steak house called Big Boy Steaks with barn boards above the windows to make it look rustic. I stopped right on the sidewalk, the sun making me squint, and the cigarette fell from my lips.
This wasn't at all right. Then I remembered the beer bottle. It had been there and then not there. The coat rack in my house had been there when I left for the Alibi and, again, wasn't there when I returned.
And now the pharmacy cafe, that was called Partners, and had been in our town since 1904 was replaced with...Big Boy Steaks? Like overnight? No one could have even refinished the front of the building that fast, even if they had worked all night. Because I had eaten lunch at Partners the day before, on Friday. I had driven past it on the way home to take a shower and hurry off to the Alibi to meet Vernon for darts.
I couldn't go forward and I couldn't seem to make any other kind of move. I wasn't hungry anymore. In fact, I felt a little queasy as if I'd already eaten something bad and it wasn't going to stay down. "What the hell?" I whispered, and then looked around to see if anyone was nearby. I stared at Big Boy again. Across the street everything looked the same except for the change of a pharmacy with a cafe that had been around more than a hundred years into a steak house that was festooned with barn lumber.
It took a minute more to realize something else was different and my first assessment had been wrong. The little local radio station in the brick building a block down from what was now Big Boy Steak was no longer KTBR. It had new gold script letters scrawled across the two big dark windows. It said KTAH .
I had to walk over to the courthouse across the street--a little shakily I admit--and sit down on one of the metal benches under the portico. From there I could see Main Street and look as long as I wanted at what was quickly causing an anxiety attack--two businesses that I had driven past, lunched in, and looked at for twenty-nine years that now were not the same two businesses.
I puffed up my cheeks and blew out wind, shaking my head. I reached for the pack of Marlboros in my shirt pocket and had one shaken out when Johnny came out the courthouse door. He paused, said, "Hey, Lane, what's going on?"
Johnny worked as a janitor in the courthouse and often took smoke breaks out front on the benches. We had gone to high school together, but he wasn't the brightest bulb in the bunch of kids produced by the Shannons
I went down the stairs slowly, and stood at the bottom looking into the lighted hall to where the coat rack used to stand near the wall, just inside the front door. It was gone all right.
The old post office style clock on the hallway wall chimed once for the half-hour to indicate twelve-thirty. I had to get to bed, it didn't matter if the coat rack was gone--for whatever reason--and it didn't matter I couldn't puzzle it out. Oil and tire changes at Herb's didn't take a lot of brain power, but it did take someone who wasn't sleepwalking. I needed sleep.
The next morning I felt groggy and a little hungover. I passed by where the coat rack had stood and wondered briefly why anyone in the world would want to steal it and nothing else. It had been worth maybe two bucks at a garage sale, nothing special about it. But I was in a rush. I didn't have time for puzzles. I got a big travel mug of coffee to take with me, jumped in the truck and drove to Herb's.
The place was hopping. Saturday always was, what with the farmers and ranchers bringing in their trucks and cars for minor repairs, and the townspeople bringing in vehicles they didn't have time to see about during the work week. I stayed busy until noon and my lunch break, so busy I never even got to finish my cup of morning coffee.
When I walked out, lighting a cigarette, to make my way to the pharmacy cafe around the block, I wasn't ready, not at all ready, to come around the corner and discover it was gone. The pharmacy wasn't there. In its place was a steak house called Big Boy Steaks with barn boards above the windows to make it look rustic. I stopped right on the sidewalk, the sun making me squint, and the cigarette fell from my lips.
This wasn't at all right. Then I remembered the beer bottle. It had been there and then not there. The coat rack in my house had been there when I left for the Alibi and, again, wasn't there when I returned.
And now the pharmacy cafe, that was called Partners, and had been in our town since 1904 was replaced with...Big Boy Steaks? Like overnight? No one could have even refinished the front of the building that fast, even if they had worked all night. Because I had eaten lunch at Partners the day before, on Friday. I had driven past it on the way home to take a shower and hurry off to the Alibi to meet Vernon for darts.
I couldn't go forward and I couldn't seem to make any other kind of move. I wasn't hungry anymore. In fact, I felt a little queasy as if I'd already eaten something bad and it wasn't going to stay down. "What the hell?" I whispered, and then looked around to see if anyone was nearby. I stared at Big Boy again. Across the street everything looked the same except for the change of a pharmacy with a cafe that had been around more than a hundred years into a steak house that was festooned with barn lumber.
It took a minute more to realize something else was different and my first assessment had been wrong. The little local radio station in the brick building a block down from what was now Big Boy Steak was no longer KTBR. It had new gold script letters scrawled across the two big dark windows. It said KTAH .
I had to walk over to the courthouse across the street--a little shakily I admit--and sit down on one of the metal benches under the portico. From there I could see Main Street and look as long as I wanted at what was quickly causing an anxiety attack--two businesses that I had driven past, lunched in, and looked at for twenty-nine years that now were not the same two businesses.
I puffed up my cheeks and blew out wind, shaking my head. I reached for the pack of Marlboros in my shirt pocket and had one shaken out when Johnny came out the courthouse door. He paused, said, "Hey, Lane, what's going on?"
Johnny worked as a janitor in the courthouse and often took smoke breaks out front on the benches. We had gone to high school together, but he wasn't the brightest bulb in the bunch of kids produced by the Shannons
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