Rumble Strip - A Blackstone Valley Mystery Novelette by Alena Gouveia
Chapter Three
I nervously licked my lips and looked at his chest, to the badge and emblems there. “You’re Jack Drago? TFC Jack Drago?”
He nodded impatiently. “That’s me. What do you know –”
“And you’re the only one? The only TFC Jack Drago in the police force?”
He blew out his breath in exasperation. “Yes, I’m sure I’m the only one. And undoubtedly I’m the only one with a brother named Screwy. What do you know about him?”
I blinked in surprise. “He’s your brother?”
“Of course he’s my brother,” he snapped back. He shook his head. “Wait, if you don’t know about him, why did you –”
“The rumble strip,” I interrupted. “It has a message for you.”
He stared at me for a long, cold moment. And then he groaned, taking off his hat and running a hand through his hair. “Garber and all his hare-brained, idiotic –”
“No, really,” I jumped in. “It’s the rumble strip. It had a message. Dot dot dash dot. Dash dash dash. Dot dash dot. Dash –”
His gaze regained its focus. “That’s Morse code.”
“Of course it’s Morse code,” I growled. “Do you think he wrote it out in Sharpie marker?” I pointed down at the grooves in the pavement. “He did it with the rumble strip. Did he work in construction or something?”
Jack’s voice was an echo of mine. “Or something,” he distantly agreed, his eyes losing their focus. He looked forward down 146 to where it crested over the hill.
When he spoke again his voice was more serious. “This whole length has a message?”
I nodded. “My Morse code is rusty, so I was driving it over and over again to try to parse it out when Nietzsche there made it his thousand-and-one goals to prove I was drunk.” My tone sharpened. “Which I am most certainly not.”
“No, no, I can see that,” he agreed absently, his focus on the road. “Show me where the message is.”
“I have to move my car first.”
His gaze sharpened. “What? Why?”
“Einstein there stopped me right when I was beginning another one of my loops, as I was trying to transcribe the message. I’m stopped on top of it.”
He stepped back, as if he realized that he was treading on something precious. And then he nodded. “I’ll follow you down to Tony’s, and you can park there. Then you’ll ride with me while we figure this out.”
He wasn’t asking, and I didn’t give him an opportunity to change his mind. I pulled open my car door and hopped in, turning up the heat full blast as I started down the road. It was only a few minutes before I was parking at the far end of the empty Tony’s Pizza parking lot. His car parked cross-wise behind mine, as if to prevent me from escaping. I gave a short laugh. He clearly didn’t know me very well. Once I was on the trail of a mystery, it would take death itself, with his traditional scythe, to keep me off the hunt.
I came around to his passenger side and pulled open the door. He opened his mouth to protest, then closed it again and nodded. “Get in.”
As soon as the door was shut he spun out, down to 146, and he began the same set of loops that I’d become so familiar with this frost-laced morning.
Lenny’s Liquors came into view and I pointed. “Start about there. There will be a few SOSses, I think to catch the attention of someone who happened to veer into the strips. And then the message begins.”
His gaze was a swirl of emotion, but he only nodded. He eased the car over.
BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR
He glanced at me.
“Just wait,” I advised him. “It will –”
brr brr brr
BRRRRRR BRRRRRR BRRRRRRR
brr brr brr
brr brr brr
BRRRRRR BRRRRRR BRRRRRRR
brr brr brr
His gaze snapped into sharp focus, and he stared at the road ahead of him, staying carefully on the strip, his fingers turning white.
I leaned back against the seat, remaining silent. I didn’t even try to translate it this time. My head was getting too muddy for the task. But the ending words sung to me without any effort at all.
L O V E
Y O U
S C R E W Y
BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR
The rumble strip echoed on in its long burr. I finally looked over. “That’s it, Jack.”
He blinked as if coming out of a trance, then nodded, pulling back into the driving lane. He slid further left, clearly planning on the U-turn at Tony’s light. His voice was tight. “Grab the pad out of the glove compartment. There’s a pen in there as well. This next pass, write down what I tell you to.”
Again, it wasn’t a request, and again I didn’t mind. I knew exactly what his mind was doing right now. It was laser-focused on the problem at hand and nothing else mattered. I’d been there many times before. I dug out the pad and pen, got the overhead light on, and I was ready for him by the time we had finished the loop.
F O R
T F C
J A C K
D R A G O
S U T T O N
Y I B
K A T H
D I N E N
F O N D
M E M O R I E S
Y O U
W E R E
R I G H T
L O V E
Y O U
S C R E W Y
BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR
He ground to a stop on the rumble strip, his breathing coming in slow, even draws. At last he turned to look at me. “Read that back to me.”
I nodded. “For TFC Jack Drago. Sutton yib kath dinen. Fond memories. You were right. Love you, Screwy.”
He shook his head. “Sutton yib? Kath dinen? Those were the letters I said?”
“Exactly,” I agreed. “That’s what I had translated, too. I thought it must be some kind of a code. One you’d know the answer to.”
His gaze drew to mine. Mixed in with the surprise and confusion was something deeper. Intense pain.
He shook his head again. “I have no idea at all.”
Chapter Four