Dag Swampro File
The Dag Swampro File
(From Struggle Creek)
A sonic boom shook the windows of Struggle Creek and, before any of the local night owls could turn their heads northward, a second boom set the town dogs to barking. The swinging-ball toy on Dag Swampro’s antique Queen Anne desk started moving wildly back and forth.
“What was that, Princess?” Dag glanced up as the china in his dining room added a tinkling noise to the click-clack of the toy. “Ah, I know.”
The longhaired calico merely swished her tail and yawned at him as a comment to Dag’s assumptions. He pulled up a familiar web site to confirm his guess. “Yup, that’s the answer.”
The cat licked her paws. Dag smiled at her apparent boredom then turned his attention to the clock on the computer. “ My goodness, Princess, you didn’t tell me how late it has become. We’ll have to deal with Mr. Turgev and Gogol later. Actually, Gogol and I are at a cross roads, and there’s only so much Russian any man should have to deal with in one evening, especially without caviar and champagne.”
The mention of fish eggs seemed to have a curious affect on Princess. She rolled over on her back indicating a need for a belly rub, which her master obliged. Dag glanced again at his computer screen. An image flashed for less than a second, then the home screen returned.
“Kids. Someday they might meet a real hacker. Remind me to throw a scare into them later.” Dag picked up the cat and limped down the hallway of his hundred-year-old farmhouse. With his back turned and the heavy fall foliage Dag failed to see the reflected headlights of a car up his driveway.
Moments later the flashing light of his doorbell, alerted Dag to his visitors. Dag tossed the cat on her favorite chair and limped back toward the door. He paused to recheck the time on the grandfather clock; then continued on up the hall. Twelve-thirty was too late for visitors. Through the side window he could see a car with the Sheriff’s Department logo emblazoned on the door.
“Mr. Swampro.” Sheriff’s Deputy Earl Watts stood holding Dag’s screen door open, yelling Dag’s name.
Dag opened the heavy oak door. “Just a second, deputy,” He quickly inserted his hearing aides and gave the deputy his full attention. “Sorry about that, I had my ears in my pocket, so to speak.”
The deputy’s puzzled look told Dag that the man had missed his attempt at humor. The squad car, lights still blinking, idled quietly in the driveway.
“Anyway, Earl, what on earth brings you out here at half past midnight? If it hadn’t been for the Russians I would have been in bed long ago.”
“Russians?” Millard Shipley, another one of the county sheriff’s deputies, stuck his head in the door. “You got Russians in there?”
“Literary Russians, Millard.” Dag replied dryly as the deputies stumbled over one another. Finally, a frustrated Earl spoke up, “Millard, go watch the prisoner. And send Inspector Ian up here.”
“Prisoner?” Dag squinted to see into the parked sheriff’s car. “Does Sheriff Saint James know that you three are out here? And toting prisoners around?”
“We’re off duty, following up leads on the thing and the dead guy, and, anyway. all we got is a kid in the car.”
“A kid? For a prisoner? Come on Earl.”
“Well, he’s kind of a prisoner. We picked him up on the way here. He was walking down the middle of the road toward your place. What kinda kid walks along the road this time of night out here? He’s got to be up to no good.”
Inspector Ian put a foot up on the bottom step. “I dare say, ol chap, he appears to be a vagabond of sorts.”
“Who? The kid?” Dag strained to look at the car, but the headlights obscured his vision.
Earl pushed his hat back. “Uh, yeah. Anyway, he’s sitting in the back of the car.”
“I believe you know the prisoner. That new kid, the deaf one.” Inspector Ian waived his cane toward the car headlights.
“Sheesh, Earl. What are you doing with him?” Dag limped out the door and started down the steps, then retreated as he remembered he was barefooted. “For Pete’s sake let him out of the car. He’s probably scared to death, and I bet his mother doesn’t know where he is, either. I don’t know, Earl, sometimes you guys…” Dag trailed off as he realized his words were simply lost on the deputy. And that Inspector Ian had just swung his cane around to point at Dag.
“Well, I think he is up to no good.” Inspector Ian jabbed his cane in Dag’s general direction.
“Get him out of the car, Earl.” Dag could feel a flush creeping up his neck and face as his frustration and anger increased with each passing minute.
Earl studied Dag’s annoyed look a moment, then turned back to the car, “Millard, let the kid out, but keep an eye on him.”
Dag watched Jared climb out of the car. The deputy hung onto his arm as though he was afraid Jared would make a break for it any minute. Dag signed to him that everything would be straightened out shortly. Then he stepped back into his doorway and turned his attention back to the deputy.
He realized that Earl was clueless about sign language and had not understood the hand signals. “I just told him everything is okay.”
“Well, it ain’t. You know a body was found by that ‘thing.’ Now, this kid is out walk’n the roads. He’s new to town and we don’t know nothin’ about him, anyway. Things just ain’t right.”
Inspector Ian pounded his cane again. “Yes, dear chap, a body. And not just anybody, but a some body, indeed it is the body of somebody, or was a body. Now, where was I?”
Millard yelled from the car, “Ask’m about the big booms.”
Earl shook his head, “That boy can’t keep his mouth shut.”
Inspector Ian had withdrawn into his own world trying to unravel his tongue twister.
“Earl, it’s twelve thirty in the morning. You have Jared standing in my driveway for no good reason, and you still haven’t told me why you’re here.” Dag sighed wearily. He wasn’t used to all this commotion. His house was a bit off the beaten path and while several people had driven by since he moved in, no one had stopped for a visit. Dag rather liked his isolation.
The inspector wandered into the car light deep in thought, apparently contemplating the ground.
“Why are you here Earl?”
“The inspector suggested that we check gun permits. And you know what? We have a gun permit on file down the office with your name on it.”
Dag rolled his eyes and nodded. “That’s right. I own a Glock. I use it for killing snakes and target practice.”
“What you wanna keep a gun like that for? You can kill snakes with a hoe.”
“That’s a euphemism, Earl, it means I keep the gun for protection.”
The inspector whirled around. “Ah-ha, a euphemism, I should have figured. Ask him what it means, Earl.”
Exasperated, Dag leaned against the door, “I am not standing on my porch at this time of morning defining euphemism.”
“Okay, then, if it ain’t really for snakes, what do you need protection from? The sheriff protects the county.”
“And his deputies?” Dag worked to suppress his grin.
“And don’t forget the inspector.” A voice rang out.
“Yeah, him, too. Anyway, what do you shoot?”
“Mostly tin cans.” Dag thought for minute then added dryly. “I put pictures on them.”
“No, you don’t, do you?”
Dag threw up his hands. He knew subtle humor was wasted on nearly every deputy in the department. “No, I was teasing you. I just shoot up some cans, I expect you will find some on the other side of the ditch.”
“Ever shoot a person?”
“Only nosey deputies and inept inspectors at twelve thirty in the morning.”
“Huh?”
“Never mind.”
“You got the weapon here?”
“Of course.”
“Can I see it?”
“Nope.” Dag watched the deputy puff up his chest to exert some authority.
“I’ll get a warrant.”
“Okay, do you need the judge’s number? I can get it for you. It’s on my Rolodex. While you’re at it why don’t you call Sheriff St. James and tell him you three are here. Dottie Rae would love to hear from you and I’m sure Kris’d like to know what his deputies are doing this time of night.” Dag squinted his eyes at the headlights, trying to see what Millard was up to with Jared.
“Uh, well, no, we have the judge’s number at the office. I’ll have to file a report with the Sheriff tomorrow. He likes things nice and tidy.” The deputy stepped off the porch and turned toward the car. “Millard bring that kid and come up here.”
“We’ll call your mother.” Dag signed to Jared as soon as the two broke through the headlights. The inspector pulled up the rear of the parade.
“What’d you say to him, ol man, you know it isn’t polite to chat in a foreign language in front of other people.”
“I just told him we would call his mother.”
“I don’t like all those hand signals.” Earl said as he tried to mimic Dag’s hand movements.
“It’s called signing. You know, Earl, you really should go to the community college and learn some basics. You did your Basic Law Enforcement Training over there didn’t you?”
“Yeah, both Millard and I were in the class of ninety seven.” The deputy fingered his gun belt. “I suppose we need a warrant to look around your place too?”
“Scotland Yard, class of ninety two.” The inspector cut in as he re-established his foothold on the bottom step.
Dag and the deputies did their best to ignore the inspector. Dag opened his arms indicating the area around the porch, “Naw, you guys knock yourselves out wandering around in the dark. Be careful of the ditch back there. And with all the rain we’ve had, there’re some real soft spots. Oh, yeah, there may be a body lay’n around somewhere so be sure and take a flashlight.” Dag smiled to himself as the trio’s eyes widened. Sometimes he just couldn’t help himself.
“You got any traps or anything back there?” Millard asked as he released Jared’s arm and headed around the corner of the house.
“Watch for the Russian bear traps, Millard. That ol brown bear and her cubs have been into my garbage at night.” Dag laughed and directed Jared to enter the house.
Inspector Ian, however, became somewhat alarmed. “You have bears? Goodness, man. Oh dear, I think I hear my pager going off. You should handle this, Earl, I must return to the vehicle.”
“That’s about as fast as I’ve seen him move since he got here.” Earl commented as they watched Inspector Ian make his way to the car. They could hear Millard tromping through the holly bushes on the side of the house. Earl walked to the side of the porch, “Millard, get back here.”
“Listen I’ll take responsibility for Jared.” Dag offered as he pushed Jared behind him and into the house.
Earl scratched his head as he turned back to Dag. “Well, I dunno, I suppose…”
“Look, Earl, he’s not going to run off to Mexico or something in the middle of the night. And I know his mom.”
“Okay, I guess that will work, but I’m leave’n Millard here until I get a warrant. Just make sure you don’t run off with this kid. Or try to get rid of that gun.”
“That’s fine with me, Earl.” Dag stepped back in the house and closed the door.
Jared tugged at Dags shirt for attention and began a rapid-fire series of signs. Dag signed for Jared to calm down and slow down. Jared took a deep breath and began again.
“I tried to tell them about Mr. Fenton and Darrow meeting with the Arab man.” Dag followed Jared’s movements carefully, then turned and jerked the door open as he yelled for Earl to wait up. To his surprise, Earl and Millard were standing at the door poised to ring the doorbell again.
“Listen, Earl.” Dag began before the deputy could ask his question. “Jared just told me about Fenton and Darrow meeting with Abdul Sharif.”
The deputy scratched his chin. “Ya know, everybody’s trying to do our job these days. You sure he didn’t say there were aliens, too. It’s normal for folks to talk in town. I don’t put much stock in it, especially coming from newcomers who don’t know a lick about Struggle Creek.”
Dag glanced back at Jared who retreated a step as if frightened of something.
“Earl, did you ask ’m about them big booms?” Millard tried to get in on the conversation as he picked at a holly thorn in his hand.
“Millard, I swear. Why would Mr. Swampro know anything about that?”
“Actually, Millard, I do know a bit about those. Quite mysterious, don’t you think.” Dag winked at Jared. He didn’t know how much lip reading Jared did, but he was sure that the young man knew the gist of the conversation.
“Okay, Mr. Swampro, what do you know?” Both deputies stood with their arm’s folded and such a skeptical look that Dag had fight the urge to burst out laughing.
“ The National Guard is doing monthly exercises out of Memphis NAS. I imagine those jets hit the sound barrier right about here after leaving Memphis. Two of them together.”
Millard shook his head, “And both booms happened nigh the same time, about midnight.”
“Right. Not really much of a mystery, is it? Earl, go get your warrant. But, I wouldn’t suggest waking the judge. Millard is welcome to hang out here on the porch. Jared can wait for his mother in the living room.” Dag motioned for Jared to move back further inside.
“I still haven’t looked this place over good. Do you think I oughta have a look around before you leave, Earl?” Millard asked even though his attention was still on a holly thorn.
Earl elbowed Millard. “We gotta have a warrant. Sides you can’t see nothing in the dark.”
“Well, technically, I only asked for a warrant for the Glock. If Millard wants to snoop around the in the dark some more, more power to him. I give him full permission.” The deputy’s eyes lit up at Dag’s words. “Of course, like I said, you might want to stay out of the hollies and watch for snakes out there. I’ll see ya in the morning. Millard, that hammock in the corner makes a nice place to rest. You can watch the whole house from there. I’ll be out with a blanket in a minute.”
The deputy went over to the hammock and bounced. “Yeah, this will do.”
“Oh, Deputy Earl, someone keeps calling for you on the radio.” Inspector Ian’s voice rang out in the darkness.
“Okay, Mr. Swampro, I’ll be back tomorrow.” Earl tipped his hat down over his eyes, then smiled and added, “ I expect the Sheriff and the newspaper and everybody will be here.”
“Cool, Earl, bring em’ all. Have a good night.” Dag turned and signed at Jared. “Earl’s thinks he’s going to bring all the neighbors. And he’ll tell everyone at the Tip Top that I’m harboring Russians. Maybe I should set some tables out on the lawn and pick up KFC.” Dag grinned. “I probably oughta call Al and warn him, too.”
Dag closed the door and limped into the living room where Jared had started working on the TTY. Dag tapped him on the shoulder and signed. “Are you calling your mother?”
Jared nodded.
“I want to talk to her.”
Jared looked puzzled, but nodded again.
Dag glanced out the window to see the deputy trying to settle into the hammock. He sighed and shook his head. “He’s not going last ten minutes there. Poor guy. I better get that blanket.” He pulled an old quilt out of the hall closet and carried it out to the porch.
“Here Millard, this might be more comfortable. The pillow on that hammock isn’t too bad. And, I’ll leave the light on for you.”
“Uh, thanks, Mr. Swampro, but I’m not supposed to sleep y’know.”
“Sure, I was just worried about your back and the fall nights can be chilly.”
“Yer not such a bad guy, Mr. Swampro.”
“That’s what the Russians tell me.” Dag laughed and closed the door.
Jared was standing in the living room. “Sorry, I forgot you wanted to talk to mother,” he signed.
“I’ll talk to her later. Is she coming to get you?”
Jared shook his head; then signed, “No, she can’t. I think I am in a lot of trouble.” Dag paused. “Because you are here? She knows you are okay and safe here.”
Jared shook his head again.
Dag saw both fear and hurting reflected in the boy’s face. “What is bothering you?”
“My mother is sick.”
“I know. She told me about the pain. Has she been to another doctor?” Val had confided her cancer diagnosis to Dag just days ago. He prayed silently.
“They want her to go to Vanderbilt in Nashville.”
“Yes, I know, the Vanderbilt-Ingram Cancer Center is well known.” Jared finally smiled, amused at Dag’s slow finger spelling. “I understand all of that, but that doesn’t explain why you were walking out here at this time of night. Surely it isn’t just about your mother. Could it be to tell me about those men you saw talking?”
Jared lowered his eyes in some embarrassment. Dag poked the boy gently forcing him to look up.
“What’s going on? You or your mother should have called. I would have come to town.”
“I needed to speak with you but I don’t want to involve TTY operators. It’s about the ‘thing’ and the body. I know what happened.” He paused, “And now there are government men in Struggle Creek looking for me, too. That’s why I was coming here. Mom said that we could trust you.”
Dag was moved by Jared’s trust and he wondered if Jared’s mother had actually explained her relationship with Dag.
A loud banging at the door interrupted Dag’s thoughts. And soon a voice rang through the house. “Mr. Swampro, Mr. Swampro.”
“Excuse me a minute, the deputy wants something.” Dag signed to Jared.
He opened the door to Millard standing huddled under the blanked in his stocking feet. “Could I get a drink of water, sir?”
“Sure, just a second.” Dag dropped his hands as he realized he had been signing as well as speaking to the deputy.
“That hand language is really something. You folks can really go to town with that.”
“It’s called signing, and ‘we folks,’ as you say, just use it to talk to each other.” Dag thought a second. “Sorta like a field trained dog. It doesn’t make him any different, it’s just that the dog understands something another dog might not.”
“Ah think I understand.”
“Hang on a minute, I’ll get your water.”
“Tea or Pepsi is okay too, it don’t matter none. Sorry to bother you again.”
Dag limped his way back through the house waving to Jared to follow him to the kitchen. Dag opened the refrigerator and reached in to grab the tea pitcher.
“For the deputy, I’ll take him the whole pitcher.” He told Jared.
Jared laughed, “He will be headed for the bushes all night long.”
Dag smiled and filled a big glass with ice. “I’ll be right back, help yourself to whatever you want.” Dag reversed his trek down the hallway.
“Here Millard, a pitcher of tea and some crackers to much on. Need anything else?”
“No, sir, I’m fine. But, uh, do you really have Russians in there?”
“Oh yeah, big ones. They’re like bears, they only come out at night.” He grinned broadly. “No, I’m just kidding again, Millard.”
“Mr. Swampro, you really shouldn’t do that, you know…” The deputy started to turn back toward the hammock.
“Millard, come on in here. You don’t need a warrant to sleep. And don’t worry, the only Russians here are in the books I read.” Dag saw an immediate sense of relief cross the deputy’s face. “Take that recliner over there. It sleeps pretty well. I know from experience.”
Millard retrieved his shoes, pulled the dragging blanked tighter around his shoulders and entered the house. He settled himself on the recliner then carefully placed the tea pitcher and drinking glass on a side table.
“Goodnight Millard.” Dag said once Millard finished getting comfortable. “The bathroom is right around the corner.” He slid the library’s double doors closed.
Dag returned to the kitchen to find Jared had disappeared. After a short search, he found the boy asleep on the living room sofa. Dag gently laid an afghan over Jared and quietly closed the door behind him. He paused to stare through the sidelight window by the front door. An unusual number of reflected headlights seemed to be heading toward town and Dag mused about what might be going on there. “This is turning out to be a long night.”
He returned to the library where the deputy was already snoring. As quietly as possible he unhooked his laptop and rolled up the cords then switched off all the lights, checked the door locks and made his way to his bedroom.
When he opened the laptop screen on the computer it blinked, indicating an incoming message. “Hmmm. It’s probably those kids again trying to hack my computer. He moved Princess from his desk chair and placed the laptop on top of some accumulated papers, then sat down to pull up a familiar web site. He typed in an encoded user ID followed by a password. Another screen opened up and a stream of information burst before him. Then the system sent an encoded message back to Dag’s computer. “Silly hacker wannabes.” Dag laughed to himself, entered another code, and turned off his PC. He placed Princess back in the desk chair and glanced at the clock as he got ready for bed. It was one twenty nine.
The hacker, sitting at the Junction Motel in Struggle Creek, saw the activity on Swampro’s computer, but before he could lock-on, the connection was severed. He attempted to copy the information, but suddenly his own system began to shut down. A ‘system fatal error’ message appeared on his screen – the message said that the system would totally erase in one minute. A small clock started a countdown. “Sheesh, what was that?”
From across the room another voice echoed, “Who is that guy? Did you find out if the kid is there?”
