The Great Appalachian Cafe Heist Read online

  The deputy’s face looked humorless, his voice grave, startling Kyle, until he gave a conspiratorial wink and grinned.

  “Very good,” Kyle chuckled.

  Kyle made his way through the rest of the officers. The parking lot was now crowded with locals toting children and men with dogs. The sheriff talked with one man, a bloodhound leashed at his side.

  Kyle moved through the throng of bystanders toward the travelling dental lab. A middle-aged woman approached him, notepad in one hand and pencil in the other.

  “Pardon me, sir. Were you a patron at the Mountaintop Cafe this morning? Were you there during the holdup?”

  “And you are?” he prompted mildly.

  “Oh, oh, pardon my faux pas. I am Betty Lou Harris, news reporter for the Mountainview Review, major news source for these parts. I sure would appreciate a statement.” Betty Lou was a petite woman who wore her hair in a bun. Several pencils protruded from the gray streaked mound of hair. Her dark eyes twinkled like a cub reporter on her first assignment. Kyle pondered his response. The police had given him no restrictions on revealing information, yet Kyle paused, knowing he could easily provide details better left unprinted.

  “Let the man be, Betty Lou. He has important business down yonder at the church.”

  Betty Lou’s shoulders jerked back, her eyes finding the speaker.

  “Miz May, I need but one minute. You see I can’t get near the front door. It’s for the paper,” she pleaded.

  Kyle nodded to himself. So this was “Miz May,” the woman who had called the University requesting dental services and resulting in Kyle’s trip. She stood six inches above the newspaper reporter; long hair framed her oval face and swung down her back in a neat braid.

  “Reckon you can have a minute, Betty Lou, than the good doctor needs to come with me. I have a child in need of attention.” Her voice was neither gruff nor sweet, but commanded obedience.

  “Thank you, Miz May. So, uh, um, well were ya in there at the time of the holdup?” Betty Lou inquired.

  Kyle nodded and gave a one-sentence summary of the robbery, omitting all details of the men’s physical descriptions, mannerisms, and possible firearm. He left Betty Lou writing intently in her notepad.

  Miz May trailed behind him to the door of the bus.

  “I hiked up the road to fetch ya. I will accept a ride back to the church in your school bus,” she stated, hiking her long skirt up an inch as she stepped onto the movable dental lab. “Time’s a’wastin’, young man.”

  Kyle nodded, eased behind the wheel of the bus and cranked the engine, waiting for the spry woman to take a seat. There was space for three passengers in one of the original school bus rows, all of the others removed to make space for the required dental equipment.

  Without being told Kyle expected her to sit before he would drive, Miz May perched gingerly on the edge of the padded bench, accustomed to hiking hills rather than riding buses. She looked uncomfortable and quizzical, more like a child on a school field trip than a wizened grandmother.

  “I’ll drive slowly,” Kyle explained, “so don’t worry about bouncing around. We have plenty of time.”

  Miz May’s black and gray braid swung along the small of her back as she shook her head.

  “You might should listen to me, young man. By nightfall you be a-finding yourself off o’ this here mountain. No good will come of it if you don’t take heed o’ my saying. I am indeed a-fearing what will come to pass iffin’ you are not long gone. If it weren’t for the child’s toothache, I would not have called for you.” Her head shook again and her brow wrinkled with concern.

  “Miz May?” Kyle began gently, glancing in the rearview at her. She met his gaze. “I appreciate your reluctance in calling a jasper, an outsider, for help. I’m sure I can help your grandson. The rest of the day holds a promise to be beautiful,” he indicated the cornflower blue sky through the large front window of the bus. The church building came into view, and Kyle slowed the bus, always careful of the possible shifting weights of dental supplies and passengers. The bus came to a stop softly, and Kyle got out of his seat, opening the bus door with the lever and waited for his passenger to disembark. Before she stood, Miz May had something to say.

  “I’ve read the signs, Doctor. As sure as I am a-sitting here, a bad wind is coming. Those men that robbed the café this morning are just the beginning and I don’t see the end yet. Bad men. Bad weather. Bad doin’s.”

  She nodded her head. Kyle did not doubt her sincerity, nor would he ridicule her thinking or beliefs. Her patois told him she had lived in the mountains her entire life. He guessed her ethnicity to be mixed. He was a man of science and naturally could not give any credence to fortunetelling or signs, but the Appalachian culture continued to amaze him with its longevity, inventiveness, and wisdom.

  Kyle made eye contact and held her gaze.

  “What signs were these?” He sounded respectful and curious, since the woman’s warning was obviously well meant, her expression as grave as a hell-fire sermon.

  “The clouds told me some,” she started, perhaps hesitant, fearing his reaction. “Often the first warm spell like this can be false. I feel it in my bones a storm is coming, first the clouds, then the birds. The wild birds, they come down in the morning to eat, but this morning they ate it all up, as if they were getting ready to a-fly off a ways. They had a word or two with my birds, the ones in the aviary outside.”

  “I see,” Kyle acknowledged the information evenly.

  “You don’t see, I know that. You have no time for studying the ways of birds. But one day, yes, one day I can see you knowing more about them.”

  “Oh, I would like that.”

  Miz May stood and pointed a finger at Kyle’s nose.

  “Mark my words. Don’t be on this mountain as the sun sets. Storm is moving in. Righteous or sinful, makes no difference to the weather. I appreciate your doctoring the boy, but then be gone.”

  Kyle would have liked to make the woman smile, but decided to settle for being a good dentist. He followed Miz May into a block building next to the Morning Side Gospel Church. The long rectangular structure consisted of one main room with a kitchen and several storage rooms off the main floor. There were a few un-curtained windows and several long tables and folding chairs. Colorful banners and children’s drawings decorated the walls with bible scenes and scripture verses.

  A tall man approached them, reaching out his hand. He nodded to Miz May as he grabbed Kyle’s hand.

  “So this is our itinerant dentist?” he beamed. “How gracious the Lord is to send you to us.”

  Kyle nodded affably.

  “Miz May is surely an agent of God. I don’t know how she convinced the University of Kentucky to send such resources to our small spot of the world. Welcome! I am Reverend John Wellesford.”

  “The University started the itinerant dental program to help all the Appalachian communities, Reverend. Anyone could have called. I’m not sure why we have not made it here before now, but I will be recommending your town as a regular stop.”

  The Reverend was not listening closely. He beamed at the woman he credited with Kyle’s appearance as he prepared his next remarks.

  “Fine. Fine. Now, I know Miz May called you to tend to Thomas, here,” he pointed to one of the tables where several children sat writing or drawing. “But Doctor, believe me, these other children have dental needs as well.”

  They moved towards the table, the children looking up tentatively. Miz May’s look remained stern. Reverend Wellesford introduced Kyle to the children, pausing when Kyle instructed the children to call him “Dr. Kyle.”

  Miz May motioned for Thomas to join them. The boy looked at the others, shrugged, and then did as instructed, standing next to the mountain woman, his right hand protectively applying pressure to his jaw. Kyle wondered where the child’s mother and father were, but the information was irrelevant to his toothache, and Kyle had no intention to inquire further on the matter.

>   Kyle, Miz May, and Thomas made their way to the wheeled dental office.

  “Don’t be scared. Dr. Kyle will make you feel better and take away that toothache. He is a right good fellow. I checked myself,” Miz May advised the youngster who listened carefully.

  Once inside the bus, it was Kyle’s turn to give direction.

  “How old are you, Thomas?” he began.

  “Eleven, sir.” The reply was polite. The boy’s voice was soft and even. “Do you sing in the choir?” Kyle asked, playing a hunch and helping Thomas into the dental chair.

  “I can’t sing since my tooth started hurting.”

  Kyle assured the pre-teen he would be able to sing in the choir again very soon and described the examination he was preparing to do, calmly displaying the instruments, naming each one, and describing how he used them to help people.

  “Before I use any one of my tools, I will let you know what to expect – pressure or a pinch, okay? I promise nothing I do will hurt. Deal?”

  Kyle proffered his right hand and Thomas accepted the handshake, making eye contact, letting the dentist know Thomas was a young man and not some baby.

  “I’m no baby lowlander,” he said as he released Kyle’s grip. “I can take it.” He passed a look to Miz May. Kyle suspected Miz May of giving a pep talk to prepare the youngster for his first visit to a city doctor, though the rugged conditions of everyday life in Appalachia were more than enough conditioning for a dental exam.

  The examination went smoothly and painlessly save for the sensitive molar. The problem was a deep cavity, though the other teeth looked healthy. Kyle did not hide the needle from Thomas, explaining in clear language the use of a local anesthetic and a drill to fix the tooth and fill the decayed portion. The boy’s eyes were wide but his head lay on the chair’s headrest, and he did not squirm as many children his age did, only his hands tightened slightly on the armrests. He listened intently and followed Kyle’s hands as he picked up a model of a molar with a removable filling.

  Miz May sat on the edge of a foldable chair next to the dental chair, her hands folded quietly in her lap. She also watched Kyle, absorbing information.

  Kyle washed his hands at the sink, demonstrating, in a fashion perhaps more dramatic than functional, the proper technique of soaping his hands and wrists, rinsing thoroughly, and repeating, before actually filling the syringe with the preferred amide solution provided by the University. After Kyle administered the anesthetic, he began preparing the other tools and the amalgam mixture.

  “Your tooth and jaw will be numb in a few minutes, Thomas. I know the tooth has hurt you a lot. The cavity is deep, but I am going to fix it. It will take a few minutes. I will use a drill to take out the decayed part of the tooth and fill it. Your mouth will feel a little funny for a while, until the anesthetic wears off. Then your tooth won’t hurt you anymore. Okay? Let’s get started.”

  Thomas remained calm through the procedure. With no complications, Kyle completed the filling in twenty minutes. As Thomas swished a rinse in his mouth and spit it out in the sink attached to the dental chair, Kyle cleared away his tools. He cut a look at the boy’s guardian and could see she wished to speak.

  Miz May quietly described her preparation of herbal tea she had been giving Thomas to drink each night as well as a slice of aspirin and steamed bark applied as a small poultice. Kyle could not be sure, but suspected the preparation had helped deal with the toothache. The aspirin added a touch of medical science.

  “His other teeth look very good, Miz May. If it is okay with you, I have supplies to give to Thomas and to you as well. I have new toothbrushes, floss, and coloring books explaining the importance of regular brushing and flossing.”

  “I’m a bit old for a coloring book, Dr. Kyle, thank you all the same,” Miz May said, a girlish smile appearing briefly, displaying a row of strong teeth.

  Kyle grinned, as much to encourage the woman’s lighter mood than appreciation for the simple jape. He gathered together one coloring book, a box of crayons, several toothbrushes in individual boxes, dental floss, and instructive pamphlets.

  “I’ll only include one coloring book,” he said, winking at the older woman conspiratorially. “I am including several child toothbrushes as well as adult toothbrushes. Will this be enough? I mean are you caring for other grandchildren?” Kyle loathed insensitive questions and wondered if he had overstepped his place, not wishing to probe personally, only to support her in whatever small way he could.

  A tight line replaced the grin beneath earnest eyes that bore into his.

  “I’m sorry if I spoke out of line.”

  “I thank you for your kindness today, doctor. So you know, everyone in these parts calls me Miz May, but my given name is Louisa May Gayland. Gayland is the name on the mailbox. You look for my mailbox as you go down the mountain. Will be on the right but a couple of miles from the town sign yonder. The house is on the left side of the road. You can see the mailbox, but the house can’t be a-seen from the road. If you should need to, you come to the house. Look for the mailbox, cross the road, then you follow the stones down some.”

  She took the bag of supplies from his hand and left, navigating the bus steps carefully. Kyle watched her take the boy’s hand and begin their walk home, Kyle assumed to the house she had just described. Kyle shook his head, arranged more supplies, preparing to give the other children a tour of his travelling lab and instruction in tooth care.

  Chapter 2

  David Moore sat on a moss covered outcropping and gazed down the sloping hill into the hollow below. Swirls of soft snow skipped above the ground, hiding the first flowers striving to reach out of the rich earth. His thoughts were dark and cold. None of his plans to secure a future for his family had gone well. His job in the coal mine was gone since the firm’s doctor had declared David’s immune system compromised from Lyme disease. David had been slow to seek medical attention, but the doctors were slower at arriving at the correct diagnosis, finally sending him to the University at Lexington where a young intern had recognized the apposite ailment. The long medical leave worried David. The relief checks kept coming at thirty percent of what he routinely brought home. Better than nothing, David had concentrated on taking the antibiotics the doctors gave him. He didn’t trust the company’s well wishes or the doctor’s pills. He wasn’t surprised when his request to return to work was denied. Someone else’s son or cousin took advantage of the opportunity to take David’s position. He continued brooding. When he discovered that his wife, Elizabeth, had signed up for government help and had been spending food stamps at the store to help them budget the income, he felt betrayed. His physical condition relapsed and his normally reserved skepticism blossomed into robust pessimism, constantly undermining any thoughts of hopefulness or cheer. He perceived himself as failing as a family provider and took his feelings out on Elizabeth, withholding all signs of affection, including marital relations.

  The relief checks stopped. The company sent him a letter wishing him well, but assumed he understood they could no longer employ him because he represented an insurance risk. Elizabeth did not complain, continuing to cook and clean each day. She praised their two sons for sharing their small salaries from the gas station and auto repair shop with the family. When Elizabeth broached the suggestion that she, too, should look for employment, perhaps cleaning the church or the homes of the coal executives that lived nearby, David left home. He could not look at Elizabeth’s uncomplaining face for the shame of letting her down on his primary role as breadwinner. His mother did not work outside the home, nor had her mother, nor her mother before that. He would have preferred Elizabeth’s anger, mirroring his own outrage at his misfortunes.

  He was gone for two weeks, roaming the mountains, hitching rides, eventually ending up at his brother’s farm, ten miles east of David’s home. The family took him in, allowing him the opportunity to bathe and eat a few hearty meals. He missed Elizabeth and her cooking, but he would not return until he could p
rovide for her.

  What happened there, David reflected now, was the beginning of a crime spree that Elizabeth would never understand. He could never let her find out.

  Chapter 3

  Three weeks ago...

  The farm his brother, Jacob, worked encompassed four acres and produced small crops of corn, pole beans, radishes, and potatoes. The couple raised chickens and pigs as well. His sister-in-law, Jean, tended a smaller garden of herbs and strawberries. She made strawberry wine along with jams and jellies. The vegetables provided a small income from sales to the local grocery chain. To supplement this pittance, Jacob worked for the US postal service, delivering mail three days a week.

  Their only son, Guy, had dropped out of college and joined a band, finding semi-steady gigs in any bar or honky-tonk between Booneville and West Virginia, playing popular Vietnam protest songs as well as original lyrics by Guy. The twenty year-old was visiting his family between band engagements when David arrived.

  Guy spent much of the day listening to his uncle. He was a good listener and empathized with the older man’s troubles. He decided to help his uncle feel better.

  “I’ve got an idea how to take your woes away, for a while,” Guy offered his Uncle. “Let’s go for a walk.”

  Once out of sight of the house and his parents, Guy pulled a baggie out of one pocket and rolling papers from another. He lifted the items at David.

  “Guaranteed to mellow you out with an illegal smile. I scored this on our last gig in Dayton.”

  Guy rolled a round joint, twirling the ends of the paper before asking David if he knew what the cigarette was.

  “Is that marijuana?”

  “Yeah, good Columbian, too. You ever smoke a joint before?”

  “No,” David said, “I’m what you would call a square.”

  Guy put the baggie back in his pocket, exchanging it for a lighter.

  “We can take care of that. Observe.”

  Guy lit the joint and took a long toke. He passed the joint to David who followed Guy’s example, holding the smoke in his lungs. He coughed. He and Guy both laughed. As they passed the herbal cigarette back and forth, David became better at inhaling.