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By the time he and Carl reached the mill, Banks had made the call to Kirk about hiring a carpenter. Rainbow stepped down from the truck and Carl drove off. Kirk had seen them pull into the lot and walked over to Rainbow.
“Well, it looks like you made a hell of an impression on our sheriff. He wants you to start carpentering tomorrow.” He put his hand on Rainbow’s back and nudged him toward the shed on the side of the cabin.
“I understand you spent some time with a motorcycle gang, so this should be right up your alley.” Kirk opened the double doors and pulled the tarp off a 1942 Indian Flathead motorcycle. “This belonged to my father. He bought it at a military surplus sale after the war. You can see it still has the Army’s markings on it. He rode it until his heart attack, then he put it in this shed and it’s been here ever since. If you can get it running, it’s yours. You’ll need transportation, and this is the best I can do. It might be a little cold now, but spring is just around the corner.”
Kirk turned and began walking away. “I’ll leave you two alone. I feel dirty watching.” And he laughed.
Rainbow had forgotten Kirk was there. The second he put his leg over the bike the world faded away. At the sound of Kirk’s laughter, he looked up and hollered at the back walking away: “Thank you so much! I don’t know if I can ever repay you.”
Kirk waved his right hand in the air and kept walking.
With the pistons moving freely, Rainbow was happy to know he might be able to make the bike run without tearing it down. He began with the electrical system, whose wires were cracked and bare in spots. By one in the morning, the bike was rewired and, while the carburetor soaked in cleaning fluid, he flushed the fuel system. And then he put everything back together and climbed aboard. His hands were trembling as he ran them over the gas tank.
Then came the moment of truth. He said a small prayer, jumped in the air, and came down hard on the kick-starter. Nothing. He did it again. Still nothing. The third time he got a backfire, which meant the motor was getting gas and spark. The fourth time it almost started. The fifth time the old bike burst forth with a roar. It still had a miss and kept backfiring, but he soon had everything adjusted and the Indian was purring like a baby kitten.
He literally couldn’t wait until morning. He put the bike in gear and headed out the gate. The wind flashed past him and the cold bit into his face. But he was in heaven. It was like being on a time machine. It was a great feeling on a great motorcycle. At last, he came to his senses and turned around. Back at the mill, he parked the bike in the shed and went to bed.
It seemed as though he had just lain down when the alarm went off. He jumped into the shower, got dressed, and walked to the back of the big house to collect his breakfast from Rosie. A voice called out – it was Kirk’s: “I think I heard the sound of a motorcycle early this morning. Was that you?”
Rainbow smiled and waved. “Good morning! Yeah, I got it running about one this morning.”
Kirk stepped back into his office as he hollered, “Good for you!”
Rainbow brought the Indian to a stop next to the sheriff’s car as Banks was exiting his house. The sheriff walked to the motorcycle and ran his hand over it. “Is this old man Johnson’s bike?”
Rainbow smiled, enjoying the way the motorcycle made him feel. “Kirk said I could have it if I could get it to run, and here it is.”
The sheriff walked around the bike shaking his head. “I haven’t seen this bike in 20-something years. If you’re going to be riding it, you’ll need to paint it. And you’re not going to be able to license it, but that won’t be a problem as long as you stay in town.”
Rainbow felt as though he had been slapped with a wet towel. “What are you talking about? The value of the bike is the Army markings. And why can’t I license it?”
The sheriff opened his car door and slid inside. He closed the door and rolled down the window. “That bike was reported at the scene of two murders. That’s why it’s been locked away for so many years. Old man Johnson and my father were like brothers, so Daddy covered for him. But that motorcycle was supposed to be at the bottom of the river. Now do you understand why it needs to be painted?”
The sheriff kicked up gravel as he backed down the drive, and Rainbow was left with his mouth hanging open. He reached toward his backpack, intending to retrieve his cell phone, but he remembered the security cameras, which were everywhere, just in time.
He turned toward the boat shed and for the first time noticed two Mexicans busily cutting the metal bands away from around the lumber. He had wondered whether Banks was going to give him any helpers.
He walked up on them and they stopped work. “Hola, amigos. ¿Cómo están?”
“Estamos bien, jefe.”
Rainbow was running out of Spanish. “¿Habla usted Inglés?”
“Sí, hablo un poco de Inglés.”
He wasn’t sure how much they were going to understand, but they were ready to work, and that said a lot. “We need to tear down the old boathouse before we can start building the new one.” Rainbow picked up a crowbar and begin removing the outside boards. Soon all three were hard at work.
After they ate lunch, Rainbow sent them back to work and walked with his backpack into the tree line along the shore to retrieve his phone without being observed. “Hello, Peter? This is Rainbow.”
Peter couldn’t keep the excitement out of his voice. “Rainbow! Where have you been? We thought something had happened to you.”
Rainbow was puzzled. He never made contact unless he had something. “Has something happened?”
Peter began to tell Rainbow everything he knew. “Taylor is on the way to Decatur, or he may already be there. Wayne found out something that could mean the sheriff is the killer, so be real careful.”
All Rainbow could think was, Wow! “I’m at the sheriff’s house right now. I have a job rebuilding his boat shed. Peter, there’s something I need you to look up for me. Twenty or so years ago there were a couple of murders here, and a 1942 Flathead Indian motorcycle with Army markings was witnessed at the murder scene. Get me all the information you can find on those murders. I’ll have my phone on until 5:00 this afternoon – get back to me no later than that.”
| Copyright © 2019, 2020 by Ed Rogers |
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