The Man Who Wasn't All There by David Handler (book recommendations website TXT) 📕

To be honest Lulu had been in exactly one fight in her entire life – with a Pomeranian named Mr Puff Ball in Riverside Park. She came out on the losing end. But there was no need for him to know that. ‘Let’s just say she’s highly protective of me. I’m going to start counting now. Ten … nine …’

His eyes blazed at me as he hurried toward his Crown Vic. ‘You’ll regret this,’ he vowed.

‘This is me quaking in my boots. Eight … seven …’

He jumped back in his car, started it up and went tearing off down the gravel driveway. Lulu chased after his car for about fifty feet, barking, until she ran out of pep and pulled up, gasping.

‘Atta girl. You sure showed him who’s the boss around here. He won’t dare mess with us anymore.’

It took less than five minutes for old Mr MacGowan to come speeding up the driveway in his battered Dodge Ram pickup. Lulu ambled over to greet him when he got out. He bent over to pet her, or at least did his best to. He was well into his seventies and barrel-chested with an arthritic back. The MacGowan family had farmed the neighboring land since the early 1800s, and Mr MacGowan knew everything there was to know about farming, although he’d also taught math at the high school for forty years in order to pay his property taxes. Like so many of the old-timers in Lyme he came across as chilly and abrupt – a Cranky Yankee – until he decided you were OK. He’d decided in no time that Merilee was plenty OK. I’d eventually managed to win him over, too.

‘Awful nice to see you again, Hoagy,’ he said, patting Lulu’s head.

‘Likewise, Mr MacGowan. Thanks for stocking the fridge. Those provisions came in mighty handy last night.’

‘No trouble at all. I was at the A&P anyway.’

‘How are my girls doing?’

By ‘my girls’ I meant Joanie and Sandy, who’d started working there as cashiers in high school, had never left and were now in their late forties. They’d taken a shine to me that summer, possibly because I enjoyed flirting with them.

‘Still full of piss and vinegar.’ He furrowed his brow at me with concern. ‘Hoagy, I would swear I just saw a rusty old Crown Vic go tearing down Joshua Town past my place. Did you by any chance have a visitor?’

‘I sure did. A smelly, unpleasant little fat man who claimed he was an auxiliary state trooper. Celebrity stalker is more like it. He was very upset that Merilee wasn’t here and demanded to know who I was and what I was doing here. Said his name was Austin Talmadge.’

Mr MacGowan paled, swallowing. ‘So he’s out again …’

‘Out again?’

‘Hoagy, if I were you I’d get your things together and drive straight back to New York.’

‘But I just got here.’

‘Trust me, Austin’s not someone you want to trifle with,’ he said, his voice rising with urgency. ‘Especially if he’s got Merilee in his sights. He’s a major nut case who’s been in and out of psychiatric hospitals his whole life. You should call the state police right away. Don’t bother with Jim Conley. He’s a fine resident trooper but you need somebody who has a lot more pull.’

I studied Mr MacGowan curiously. ‘Are you saying this guy’s dangerous?’

‘I’m saying I wouldn’t feel safe here if I were you.’

‘You sound awfully serious about this.’

‘Only because I am.’

‘I do know someone who I can call.’

‘Will you promise me you’ll call him right away?’

‘I promise.’

‘Then I’ll leave you to it.’ Mr MacGowan climbed back in his truck and drove off, leaving me there feeling totally bewildered.

I went inside and leafed through the phone book in my briefcase for the number of Pete Tedone, whom my lawyer had put me in touch with last summer when things got super messy with a former Yale Drama School classmate of Merilee’s. Pete took care of it and kept it out of the papers. He’d been deputy superintendent of the Connecticut State Police until his wife got caught shoplifting several valuable items from the Gucci store on Fifth Avenue while Pete was right there by her side, clueless, or so he’d claimed when store security landed on her. He took early retirement and became a private detective – a private detective who was related to half the hierarchy in the state police.

I called him and left Merilee’s unlisted business number with his answering service.

He called me back in five minutes. ‘Hoagy, what a nice surprise. I thought you’d gone back to Gotham City to work on the great American novel.’

‘I did. I am. Just came out for a few days to take in the fall color. Merilee’s shooting a movie in Budapest. I’m out here by myself.’ Lulu coughed. ‘Which is to say it’s just Lulu and me.’

‘Something I can help you with?’

‘I don’t know, to be honest. Her neighbor out here, an old-timer, seems to think I’m in the middle of a situation.’

‘What kind of a situation?’

‘A strange sort of guy just showed up here in a tricked-out old Crown Vic wearing a fake state trooper’s uniform and carrying a nightstick and gun. He was in his forties, short, fat and smelled like a homeless person. Called himself an auxiliary state trooper. Also a huge admirer of Merilee’s work, as in my idea of potential stalker material. Me, he didn’t like at all. Told me I’d better show him more respect the next time we see each other.’

‘Got a name for me?’ Pete was unable to hide the dread that had crept into his voice.

‘Austin Talmadge.’

‘Are you going to be around this morning?’

‘That’s the plan.’

‘Good. I’ll be there in less than an hour.’

‘Super. Thanks, Pete.’

‘A word of warning, Hoagy …’ Pete Tedone cleared his throat. ‘I won’t be alone.’

TWO

It was actually a small convoy that arrived forty-five minutes later. Heading up the convoy was Pete Tedone, who still drove