Free Kentucky Murders: A Small Town Murder Mystery by Larry Parrott Page B

balls of his feet when he saw Tommy’s right hand form a fist. Tommy’s arm moved back to a ready position, and just as Tommy was about to swing, a firm hand grabbed his wrist from behind.
    “Back to work,” said Frank from behind Tommy, and the crowd began to disperse. He released Tommy’s wrist and pointedly looked at him. “Tommy, Zack, in my office, now.” Tommy and Zack made their way separately to Frank’s office. Along the way, Zack grinned to himself as he replayed the events in his head. How many times in high school did he stand up to punks like Tommy? They were all tough guys when it came to small or weaker kids, but they suddenly lost their guts when a guy their size stood up to them.
    In his office, Frank gave them a warning. If they wanted to fight, do it off company property and after working hours; otherwise they could both look for new jobs.
    Zack got the impression that this wasn’t the first time Tommy had received one of these lectures.
     
     
    Chapter 17
     
    After work, Zack stopped to talk with Frank about baseball. They seemed to have struck up a sort of friendship around the subject. Frank acted as if Zack’s call to his office earlier had never happened. He didn’t seem to hold any grudges, by the way he responded, and Zack was glad. Zack had the feeling that Frank knew who the troublemaker really was.
    The parking lot had almost emptied before Zack got out to his car. As he pulled out onto Route 23, which led into town, he saw Max walking slowly along the shoulder of the road with his head down. Zack rolled down his passenger window and leaned over. He slowed down to keep pace with Max’s steps and asked, “Hey Max, need a ride?”
    Max didn’t look at Zack while he answered, “Max always walks. It’s not far,” and he shook his head to say no.
    “Come on. I’m going that way.” Zack sped up and pulled off the road at an angle that blocked Max’s way. He leaned over, pulled the passenger door release, and the door opened. “Please,” he said as Max approached. “I want to talk.”
    Max stopped and bent over to look through the open door at Zack. He actually cracked a smile. Without a word, he climbed in, fastened his seatbelt, and pointed ahead. “That way,” he said.
    About half a mile up, Max began waving his hands and rocking in the seat. “There! There! Max road.” He pointed at an upcoming dirt road while fumbling to release his seat belt.
    “Wait,” said Zack, placing his hand to keep Max from removing his seat belt. “I’ll take you all the way to your house. It’s okay.” Zack turned off onto the dirt road leading into the woods. “Okay?” He stopped the car and waited for Max’s permission.
    Max looked up the road, then back at Zack. After all these years of being tricked and made fun of, Max’s trust of mankind had worn thin. After a few seconds, Max nodded. Zack felt that Max had just paid him a compliment and had made a gesture of friendship.
    The grassy road led into a tunnel of trees. Knee-high grass scraped under and along the sides of the Camaro. Zack rose up in the seat to look over the hood. “Is it clear?”
    Max tilted his head to the side and frowned in confusion.
    “You know,” Zack clarified, “Are there any fallen trees or rocks I might run into?” He motioned with his fists, slamming them together like cars hitting each other. “You know, crash.”
    Max’s eyes brightened. He smiled again and said, “No. Okay, okay. Good road.”
    Zack drove along at 5 miles per hour, using the gap in the trees to guide him. After about five minutes, the road ended abruptly with an open grassy field, about 200 yards across. A weathered, unpainted shack stood in the middle, with a matching, smaller outhouse off to the side. Zack pulled up near the front door, probably the only door, and cut the engine. “Mind if I come in?”
    Max didn’t hesitate this time. “Okay,” he said, climbing out of the car.
    The shack surprised Zack on the inside.