"Delicious," he complimented honestly.
"Lemme give you the recipe," Bolger said, handing Anton a neatly lettered card.
"Thanks! I'm pleased to get this." He put it carefully in his wallet.
Deputy Fuller, walked in, shaking off the rain. He came over to introduce himself. Probably in his mid-thirties, he was about the same age as Anton. His square face was surrounded by close cropped, auburn hair. A little full around the middle, he wasn't fat, but barrel chested. His smile was warm, though held wariness.
"Clute Fuller, Mr. Winthrop," he introduced himself.
"Pleased to meet you, Deputy Fuller."
They shook hands and sat. Armed with more of the really good hot chocolate, they talked. Anton realized early on, Fuller wasn't as bland and unprepossessing as he hoped to convey. Having expected this, Anton kept his own face open and friendly. His answers were as close to the truth as he could manage, but there were, obviously, gaps.
"So, you weren't up at Far Trek?"
"No. I got lost along the way. Ended up on this godforsaken trail, and stayed in a small cave."
"Could you find it again?"
"No, I was turned around. I was lucky to get back here in one piece."
"Understandable. I've lived here, and camped these woods, my entire life. I still get confused."
"Having a compass helps," Anton said. "I got myself one of those nice water ones a while back." He showed it to the deputy and ranger.
"They work better, for sure. You much of an outdoors man?" Fuller asked
"Yes. First time here, though."
"Where are you from?" his question was pointed, but friendly.
"I'm originally from upper Michigan. I moved down here five years ago."
"Where do you work?"
"I freelance."
"As?"
Anton blushed, dropping his eyes. "I actually write erotica for various publications. I've also written a sex advice column for a gentleman's magazine, under the name P.U. Tang." All this was true. He preferred not to lie to Fuller.
Fuller nodded, grinning. "In Happy Gents Magazine. Dumb name. Sorry, no offense."
Anton chuckled. "I didn't name it, and I agree. But it pays well. I author my books under various female pseudonyms."
"Really? Why?"
"Believe it or not, it sells better. I write some hardcore porn, too, under the name Jack Hammer."
"Oh, shit! I've read your stuff. Whew!" He tugged his collar.
"Then I've done my job," Anton smirked.
"Why the move here?" Fuller got back on track.
"I needed a change of scenery. The winter is milder here than up there. I lived roughly five miles from the Canadian border―as the crow flies. I had enough frostbite adventures to last a lifetime." All this was also true.
"I can't even imagine. Where are you living now?"
"Between houses, actually. I have a trailer I haul around."
"But not here?"
"Why take a trailer on a camping trip? The point was to rough it. Got more than I counted on, though. Teach me to check the weather next time."
"Why are the Thompsons so convinced you're the criminal in question?"
"I don't know. Maybe I look like him? I don't watch TV, don't even have cable. I didn't know you were looking for someone, until I got back here. What did he do?"
"Stole some very expensive jewelry."
"That doesn't sound so bad."
"And kidnapped a woman."
"Oh! Is she okay?"
"He released her without ransom. Just wanted the necklace she wore. Crazy thing, then some guy shows up at the cemetery, drugged, the necklace in his hand."
"Weird."
"We got footage from the Franklin Wal-Mart," Fuller continued. "The guy in it does look a hell of a lot like you."
"No kidding? They say everyone has a double."
"He looks enough like you to be a brother."
"I'm an only child."
"Which begs the question, who is he? And who are you?"
"Donald Winthrop."
"Don't be facetious!" Fuller said loudly.
©2021 Dellani Oakes
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