“We wouldn’t have found it without the bear.”
“This ought to be good.” A smirk crossed the sheriff’s face. He set down his coffee on the corner of the table and folded his arms across his chest. “What does a bear have to do with finding Purvis’s car?”
I slumped in my chair as the rest of the men around the Liars’ Table leaned forward, eager for a fresh story. C.J. hadn’t warned me he was going to launch into this tale, but when Harlow had pointed at my car parked in front of Abe’s Market and asked how I recovered it, I didn’t have a good answer. C.J. saved me from answering, but I sweated since I had no idea where the story was going. The fact that the sheriff, waiting while Danny cooked his daily breakfast, stood and listened with interest made hearing the story for the first time even more stressful.
Once all eyes focused on C.J., the large man leaned forward, lowered his voice, and launched into his story. “It was Boris for sure, the biggest, baddest black bear in these mountains.”
Levi snorted. “No way. No one’s seen Boris since I did on that fishing trip.”
“It was him. Must be a tough summer because he was thinner than I remember. Maybe only nine hundred pounds. Maybe a half ton.”
I cringed. Anyone who lived in the mountains saw black bears because they were so numerous, but they were far smaller than C.J. described. In my own life, truth be told—not that I would have done that at this table—the biggest bear I had ever seen was half the size of the legendary Boris. Of course, when I told and retold that particular story, I added a few pounds. No one around the table would scoff because they each had their own story of Boris. Tommy even rolled his eyes and muttered, “He has lost some weight since I ran into him up past Soco Gap.”
“I wondered the same,” C.J. agreed. “I thought it was one of Boris’s sons or something, but then I saw the gray hair around the muzzle and the jagged scar on the side of his face. His huge claws covered the center line on the road. He turned his big head and stared at me with those eyes. His message was clear. Ain’t no human going to tell ol’ Boris to move.”
Chip nodded. “That’s for sure. When I ran into him—”
C.J. cut him off before a fresh story could interrupt. “I knew I couldn’t hit him ‘cause he would’ve totaled my ride. Damn bear—sorry, Martha—is almost as big as my little truck. I stood hard on the brake and turned the steering wheel as fast as I could. Threw ol’ Purvis here bouncing around inside the cab like a rag doll. He almost went out the window.”
I could feel my face burn as all eyes shifted toward me. I didn’t want to sound so helpless, but I didn’t want to contradict anything either. Before I could think of a retort, C.J. continued.
“The left front bumper clipped the beast—even found hairs on it last night when I got home—but it didn’t hurt him at all. He howled in anger and took a swipe at us, but I was already off the side of the road and sliding down a hill. He came crashing through the trees right on our tails. I was sure he was going to tear us limb from limb.”
Abe’s eyes twinkled in merriment as he leaned forward. “Did he leave claw marks on your car door like he did mine that time?”
“I saw those claw marks, and I’ve had hound dogs with bigger paws,” C.J. said. The men erupted with laughter as Abe’s face reddened, but C.J. didn’t give him time to retort. “He never got to our car ‘cause I yelled out my open window to back off. Told him I had had enough of a bad day and didn’t want to tangle with him. I said I was sorry I had clipped him. He stood like three or four feet away, stamping those mighty paws on the ground hard enough we could feel it shake. His nostrils flared as he snorted with such force he fogged up the window.”
Chip cocked his head. “I thought your window was open.”
“The front window.” C.J. waved his hand in dismissal. “He stood up on his back legs and roared. He was so big, he eclipsed the sun and cast this huge shadow over us. The saliva dripped off those sharp teeth as he growled and bared his fangs. I turned to Purvis here and said it was good knowing him and all ‘cause I was sure we were about to meet our Maker.”
The sheriff leaned forward. “What happened?”
“We came to an understanding. I mean with those scars, it’s clear Mr. Boris has had a few bad days himself. He dropped down on all fours and looked both of us right in the eyes. He was breathing real heavy as he studied us.” He turned to me. “That ol’ guy had some foul breath, didn’t he?”
What could I do? The story mesmerized me as much as everyone else. I nodded ever so slightly.
“And then a miracle happened. It was like he flipped a switch because he just decided to leave. Turned and walked away.”
The sheriff rolled his eyes. “Just decided, huh?”
“Just like that.” C.J. snapped his fingers. “He sauntered off to the woods, tree branches cracking as he went through.”
Abe snorted. “Sauntered. I like that word.”
“Well, he sure didn’t run. He wasn’t scared of us—that would be silly. We just came to an understanding.”
The sheriff took a bite of the biscuit Danny had handed him and chewed thoughtfully. He swallowed and asked, “What does that have to do with finding Purvis’s car?”
“Because when that bear went crashing through the woods—”
Abe snickered. “Sauntering.”
“He pulled the branches back, and we saw this glint of metal. Once we were sure he was gone, we got out of the car, followed those bear tracks, pushed those branches back, and there it sat just as good as new.”
Levi hooted. “That car ain’t been as good as new in about thirty years.”
I leaned forward to protest, but Harlow interrupted with a question. “Do you think the bear was the thief?”
Once the laughter died down, C.J. shook his head. “Of course not. I wouldn’t make up something silly like that.”
Tommy rolled his eyes. “No, of course you wouldn’t.”
“The sheriff was right. It was probably just some kids out funning, and they didn’t really do no harm to the car. They made a mess of things rifling through the glove compartment—lost his registration and everything—but Purvis didn’t think they stole nothing except his license plate. They didn’t mess the engine up because it started right away. We just had to get it and my truck back up on the road. That took a while and some really expert mountain driving, but soon enough, we were good to go. Ain’t that right, Purv?”
I searched the faces around the table, trying to decide who believed the tale and who didn’t. If I had been a listener, I would’ve guessed the bear wasn’t real or was just a normal-size bear, but I would’ve believed the part about finding the car on the side of the road. After all, it was parked out front, so they wouldn’t suspect that part of the story. I decided to go with C.J.’s lead. “That’s about it, though I think next time I’ll toss ol’ Boris some breath mints.”
Everyone laughed, a sign of appreciation for a well-told story. Even the sheriff was smiling with them. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing you never did that report, Purvis. Now I don’t have any paperwork to close out.”
The sheriff sipped his coffee and waited for the men to quiet down. “I think Preacher Brawley is going to have a good story to tell too.”
My heart skipped a beat at the mention of the reverend. When I had arrived for breakfast, C.J. was already seated at the table and wolfing down his food, so I hadn’t had a chance to tell him what I had done the night before. He leaned back in his chair, folded his hands across his belly, and asked the sheriff, “Now, how can a preacher man top a story about a bear finding a stolen car?”
The sheriff grinned with confidence. “He called me early this morning with quite a find. He checked that donation box they have out front for their mission work, and someone had stuck one of those plastic garbage bags in there filled with cash.”
My stomach burned with acid, and I lost my appetite. Of all the things I had thought the reverend might do, calling the sheriff hadn’t even popped into my mind. Maybe that was because it was the last thing I would have done.
Harlow grunted. “So someone did a bake sale or something and dropped off the cash all anonymous like. What’s such a big deal about that?”
The sheriff leveled a stare at him. “I’ve never heard of a bake sale raising over a hundred thousand dollars.”
I felt C.J.’s eyes burning into the side of my head. I shrank down in the seat and did my best to ignore him.
Levi whistled low. “A hundred grand? Who around here has that kind of money?”
The sheriff grew serious. “That was why Preacher Brawley called me. He worried it might be dirty money, maybe a bank robbery, or drug money, or something else like that, so he wanted to make sure it was okay to keep.”
Frustration bubbled up. I had taken the time to write that note, and it hadn’t worked at all. I meant to just think it, but instead the words came out of my mouth. “It’s just cash. What does it matter where it came from?”
The sheriff turned his gaze toward me. “If it’s stolen, it’s got to go back to the victim. If it’s drug money, then that might be different. We certainly wouldn’t give it back to drug dealers. But we’ll hold it and see if we can figure out where it came from.”
“You mean you confiscated it?”
“No, not exactly. We do have it, locked up down in the evidence lockers to keep it safe, but Preacher Brawley gave it to us voluntarily. He said he couldn’t do God’s work with it if it belonged to someone else, so we promised to investigate and let him know. If we can’t find the rightful owner, we’ll probably give it back to him.”
I couldn’t help asking, “How long will that take?”
The sheriff shrugged. “Weeks, at least. Don’t worry, though, it’s nice and safe. No one can get to it there without going through a bunch of hoops. I can’t even just go get it.”
“Why did you give Reverend Brawley the money?”
We stood in the parking lot in front of Abe’s Market. After a few more stories had been traded and breakfast consumed, the men of the Liars’ Table scattered about town for the rest of the day—Ronnie to his job and the rest to the important tasks they claimed to have or the errands they said they needed to run. The real plan, though, could well be to head home to a hammock under some shade trees, a rocking chair on a porch, or a recliner in an air-conditioned den. Once the others had driven off, C.J.’s smile slipped off his face.
I leaned back against my car, without a single bear claw mark or scratch from brush, and crossed my arms. “Because I trust him. He comes out regularly to the nursing home to visit Shelby. Teresa tells me. It doesn’t matter that I don’t go to Sunday service or tithe like I’m supposed to—he still visits her. That’s how I know he’s an honorable man because he does the right thing even though there is nothing in it for him.”
C.J. chewed on the side of his cheek and looked up at the sun. After a few minutes of thought, he said, “Yeah, he is, but maybe too honest.”
That stung, but he was right. “I didn’t think he would call the sheriff.”
“We could have done it. You and me.” He adjusted the straps of his overalls. “We know everybody around here who needs some help. We could’ve slipped little envelopes with cash in people’s mailboxes. We could’ve paid some doctor bills so people got treatment they needed or covered some heating bills this winter so some kid doesn’t shiver. Maybe we could’ve put some teenager down at the high school in a drug treatment program like the one Wyatt did. Small amounts so no one would get suspicious like Brawley did.”
“You don’t think word would’ve gotten around about that?”
“Sure, but it would’ve been like the stories we tell at breakfast. Rumors would fly around about who got the money. We’d know if some people didn’t mention it. Others would claim to have gotten something when we didn’t give them any. It could’ve been fun.”
“But all those stories would have caught the sheriff’s attention too.”
“I don’t think so. No one would’ve known what to believe, so why would the sheriff get suspicious? And even if he did, about what? No crime in giving people a little money.”
C.J. was right, of course; we could have done it. We probably could have gotten away with it. Dealing with that money, though, for all the time it would have taken, was too much to bear. “I just couldn’t have it near me. Knowing where it came from.”
He finally turned and looked at me. “Because of Jessica and Wyatt?”
I nodded.
“I get that.” C.J. looked up at the mountain ridges, buying himself time to think, and heaved a heavy sigh. “But you should’ve told me before you did it.”
“Yeah, I should have.” Eager to extract myself from the conversation, I fumbled my car keys out of my pocket. I opened the driver’s door, but paused before getting in. “You should’ve told me you were going to make up that cockamamie story. Who’s going to believe that crazy thing?”
C.J. smiled and shrugged. “That’s the point. Everyone thinks we just stumbled across the car on the side of the road somewhere just like the sheriff figured, and we embellished the story of finding it a little bit. The sheriff isn’t going to waste time looking for some high school kids joyriding. No one is going to wonder how you got your car back. No harm done, no questions asked.”
Made sense. I settled into his driver’s seat. “You’re probably right.”
“Of course I am.” C.J.’s face beamed with pride. “You gotta admit, it was a good story. Those guys are going to remember it for a long time.”