Twillbear (part the fourth)

The drive from Benson to Pleasant Hills, a distance of seventeen miles, offered Twillbear little other than the opportunity to formulate a plan of attack. He still needed to decide how much (or how little) information to share with her. Nothing would be accomplished by throwing caution to the wind, but he had Tish’s attention, and if he was to help her, this meeting needed to produce some answers, regardless of where the chips may fall. Constantly checking his side mirrors, Twillbear led her to Merkin’s House of Pie, a small mom-and-pop diner/watering hole on state county road DD. At twenty past nine in the evening, the supper crowd would be gone and any tavern-goers who might be present would not be apt to recognize them.

Once inside the diner, the two sat down at a table near the back. Tish’s head, covered by a pale blue scarf and oversized Pierre Cardin knockoff sunglasses, made her resemble Audrey Hepburn in any one of her 50’s-vintage films featuring copious amounts of tears and sobbing, and packed with over-emoted, designed-to-impress-the-Academy drivel. Twillbear hoped to avoid the possibility of any reoccurrences of such scenes.

Both ordered coffee and when it arrived, Twillbear whispered into the server’s ear. A quick nod and she didn’t come back. A few minutes passed with lots of coffee stirring and napkin dabbing by Tish. Occasionally, she’d look up at Twillbear, who’d taken off his sunglasses by now. Obviously intimidated, she wasn’t about to be the first to speak.

“Would you mind removing your shades? I think it’s important that we be able to look each other in the eye, if we’re to help each other.” Twillbear’s voice contained the steadiness of resolution and the sharpness of necessity. Saying nothing, Tish slowly removed her glasses and placed them in her purse.

“Thank you. That’s much better. I’ve been told that the eyes are windows to the soul, and I believe it to be true. What do you think?”

Shrugging her shoulders, Tish looked down into her cup. “Never thought much about it, I guess.”

“Then why can’t you look at me? Listen, I know you’re afraid, and you have every reason to be. But I promise you, if you level with me, no harm will come to you, at least not from me.”

“Oh, really? You’ve already harmed me. You just cost me six hours pay and tips, not to mention that little tidbit about Federal prison. You expect me to waltz in here and bear my soul to a customer who just threatened me?” Pausing to sip her coffee, she gulped hard and continued. “I think I need to see a badge or some credentials. Otherwise, this little party is over.”

“What was in the envelope?” Twillbear didn’t move.

“It was filled with none-of-your-goddamn-business!” Such was the intensity coming from behind Tish’s eyes, Twillbear looked around the room expecting to see that a power surge had just made the lights brighter. If her gaze had contained any real firepower, Twillbear’s mangled carcass would now lay in a heap at the base of the back wall.

Reaching into his shirt pocket, Twillbear produced a small wallet with a badge and ID card that he held in front of her at arm’s length. “Twillbear Hopkins, Special Agent, FBI.” Then, snapping it shut, he put it back in his pocket, replacing it with a cell phone. “Now…” he began, “shall we stop trying to impress each other with snappy retorts and get down to business, or should I make a phone call?”

Silent tears began to stream from Tish’s face. The rough exterior finally pierced, she sobbed uncontrollably without a sound, as if a single whimper would remove any dignity remaining.

“What was in the envelope?” Twillbear repeated.

“Cash… four hundred dollars, to be exact.”

“Drug money?” Twillbear kept eye contact while he sipped his coffee.

“No… or I guess I should say, it’s not money I pay to buy drugs. I imagine I’m probably helping finance someone else’s habit. That’s not to say that I haven’t done drugs, but I’ve been clean for nearly two years.”

“And someone is shaking you down to keep your secret quiet, I assume?”

“Yea, something like that…” Again her eyes lowered.

“There’s more?”

“Well, you’re going to find out anyway, I may as well tell you. I’m the main attraction at his little fun circus he conducts in his bedroom whenever I get his phone call.”

“How often does he come in to collect his money?” Twillbear fought to hide his rage.

“Every week… on Wednesday nights, usually.”

“Do you steal money from the till to pay him with?”

Again she started to sob. “Oh, my God… yes.” Now, Tish’s head hit the table as she broke down completely.

Twillbear reached out and rubbed her arm. “Has he beaten you?”

Without raising her head, Tish nodded. “Yes, more than once.”

“Shhh…” he whispered, “it’s going to be okay, but you must tell me his name. I need to know who I’m dealing with.”

“He’ll… kill me if I tell you.”

“He can’t hurt you if he’s in prison where he belongs. I’ll see to it that he never hurts you again.”

Burying her face in her dinner napkin, Tish dabbed and wiped, trying to compose herself. “If I tell you, do I go to jail, too?”

“No, I can promise you immunity from prosecution.”

The look she gave him told him her soul had returned. Twillbear knew the look well… he’d seen it in her mother’s eyes, many years ago.

“His name is Harper LaGrange.”

“Okay…” said Twillbear Hopkins, “that’s enough for tonight. If anyone ever asks you, this conversation didn’t take place. Go back to work and act as if nothing has happened. I’ll take care of the rest. Someone will contact you if I need to talk to you again. Maybe then we can find out the sin that made you beholden to this creep, but for now, it doesn’t matter. Do I make myself clear? Tell no one.”

“My mother already knows. We’re close and I don’t hide things from her.”

“No husband or boyfriend? A father, perhaps?”

Pain broadcast from Tish’s expression. No sobbing or other outward expression emanated, but Twillbear noticed a perceptible shrug as she looked away briefly. “Nope… I’m not currently dating anyone, unless you’d call my relationship with Harper ‘dating’, and I never knew my father. Mother didn’t talk about him except to say that he never mistreated her.”

Twillbear didn’t say anything for a time. When he noticed her fidgeting, he decided to conclude the meeting. “No, I wouldn’t call it dating, not by any stretch of the imagination. I’ll see what I can do, but you need to stay strong and act like nothing is wrong. You just remember what I told you.”

Tish took her glasses back out of her purse and slid them onto her face. “I understand…” she said, and began to rise.

“Wait…” said Twillbear, grabbing her arm. “I almost forgot… don’t go back to his house again for any reason. If he tries to get into your place, call the police immediately. Okay?”

One nod and she was gone. Okay, so he’d lied about the FBI part. It wasn’t the first time, and it probably wouldn’t be the last.
***