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Returning from a mission a few years earlier, Stickman and Maple had taken a side trip to Falling Water, the home designed by Frank Lloyd Wright southwest of Pittsburgh. On their way back to the interstate, a For Rent sign caught Maple’s eye as they passed a long gravel driveway. Lined by mature oak and ash trees, it led them to a two-story farmhouse. It was at a fork, the other branch going to two mobile homes sitting farther back in the trees.
Maple had been greeted at the door by a robust couple who appeared well into their eighties. Briefly explaining their interest in fishing and hiking, he asked if they rented by the week. No, the woman said firmly, too much fuss, has to be at least month-to-month. Saying that might work in the future, Maple got their contact information and thanked them. That information was added to a carefully coded notebook of properties, businesses and other facilities that one day could prove valuable. The book, stowed in the back seat compartment, could take the fugitives back to the remote property.
“What do you think, Mr. Stick? Should we fade into the woodwork for a while? These checkpoints probably won’t go away any time soon, not entirely anyway.”
“You’re right. And for an outdoor guy like me,” he answered wryly, “streams and parks and fishing like we got around here, those things are my life.”
Minutes later a sign announced Pennsylvania highway 381. “That’s it, right?” asked Maple, taking the exit and heading south.
He recognized the old woman when she answered his knock. She was a little grayer and more shrunken, though that could have been an impression made fuzzy by time. Wearing a modest blue print dress, she was still erect and bright-eyed and with neither undue caution nor trust asked his business. Maple didn’t bring up his earlier visit, just that he and his friend were interested in renting a trailer. Coming up behind her was a man, perhaps a bit older, using a walker.
“These gentlemen are interested in rentin’,” the woman said.
“I see just one,” the old man said.
“The other is in the car, Wilbur.”
“Wilbur, Wilbur Banks,” he said, pushing the storm door open to shake hands. “Haven’t I seen you before, young man? I seldom forget a face. That’s not always a blessin’ when I can’t remember anything about the person, just the face.”
“That’s impressive, sir. I dropped by a few years ago and hung on to your card, just in case we came back through.”
“I see. This is Mrs. Violet Banks.”
“I’m Alexander Simms,” said Maple, using the name on the driver’s license he had shown the patrolman. “My friend in the car is Demetri Henry. It’s nice to see you both are well.”
“Excellent, in fact,” said Wilbur Banks. “And how is your vacuuming going?”
Violet slightly rolled her eyes. That was signal enough for Maple, who as a child sometimes sat with an uncle who older family members described as “touched.” “It’s going better, sir,” Maple said. “Thanks for asking.”
Violet gave him an appreciative nod and reached for keys on a pegboard just inside the door. “Go take a look. Both trailers are empty. If you’re interested we’ll go from there.”
They were, particularly in the unit farthest from the house. It seemed a little newer and, more important, Stickman pointed out, only yards from woods where the heavy undergrowth was dominated by a mix of multiflora rose and gooseberry bushes. A path could be cut through the thorny brambles, one offering escape for the informed or a painful reckoning for the unsuspecting.
“That would be my pick,” Wilbur said upon Maple’s return to the house. “You no doubt noticed the vacuum in the hall closet. Whoever rents the other has to borrow ours.”
“Yes, sir. I saw that,” Maple lied.
Violet went to the door and waved Stickman in. Not seeing a choice he entered with a smile as she handed them pencils and rental applications. They required job histories and references from employers and former landlords. After checking their New Jersey licenses, and learning they were on vacation and probably would be there a month or less, she declared the job histories and references weren’t needed. “Hardly seems worth the hassle of all those calls. You gotta pay for a full month, though. Long as you’ve got cash money for the rent and deposit, we’re willin’ to rent month-to-month.”