Fannie and the Back Fence Gang 5

China Hits the Hot Button

In previous episodes, radio talk show host Fannie Couch (Fannie’s Back Fence) is interviewing Pecan Springs mayor, Pauline Perkins, who wants to encourage support for a planned development on Sycamore Creek. But Fannie’s first call—from a driver on his car phone who claims to have some kind of inside information about the project—is interrupted by an ear-splitting crash. Station master Henry notifies the sheriff’s office and learns that Sheriff Blackwell, a regular listener, believes that another vehicle sideswiped the caller and knocked him off the road. A deputy is on the way. Subsequent callers speculate that the vehicle that caused the crash is damaged and share stories about the gravel pit at the head of Sycamore Creek. Then a caller reports seeing a white car with a smashed right front fender. It speeds away, nearly hitting a boy on his bicycle and running a red light. Henry is back on the phone—this time, to the Pecan Springs police—while Fannie connects with the next callers, who provide a vital clue and more details about that gravel pit. Reading time for Episode 5: about 12 minutes.

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Henry was cross. “I just wish you’d follow the rules,” he told Fannie while the commercial was playing—a couple of them, since Fannie had gone over the scheduled break and he had to catch up. “You trying to piss off our advertisers? If you drive ’em away, who’ll pay the bills?”

“I’m sorry, Henry,” Fannie said penitently. “I’ll do better. I just got kind of interested in what folks were saying. Have you heard anything from the sheriff’s office about the wreck on Half-Road?”

“Yeah,“ Henry said, mollified. “The deputy found a streak of white paint on the left side of the wrecked car, so it appears to have been sideswiped by a white vehicle. And Bubba called to say that they’ve put out an alert for the white Lincoln that nearly hit the kid on the bike. He also said to tell you thanks for that license plate. He’s asking people to call in here if they spot the car.” He grinned. “He and the dispatcher will be listening in, so they’ll pick up the information along with everybody else.”

Bubba Harris, the chief of the Pecan Springs PD, was not one of Fannie‘s favorite people. She seriously disliked the smelly cigar that he stuck in one side of his face like a cartoon caricature of a Texas police chief. But she tried to make allowances. You couldn’t like everybody.

“Okay, I’ll tell them,” Fannie said, and settled back in for the last segment of her show. She flipped the mike switch and passed on the sheriff’s report about the white paint on the wrecked car and the chief’s request for information about the whereabouts of a white Lincoln, license plate I-A-M-G-A-A.

The first call came in from a salesman for an electrical supply company in New Braunfels, driving south to San Antonio. “I’ve been listening to your show,” he said. “That logo on the side of the truck—the letters A and E in a double black circle the caller remembers seeing? That was the logo for a company that used to be located in San Antonio. Anderson Electric. Manufactured transformers for power companies. Been out of business for ten, maybe twelve years now.”

Fannie chewed her lip, remembering something she’d read recently and thinking about that truck that Gus Schwartzenhamer had described, a stake-bed truck with a tarp tied down over its load, driving up Half-Mile road to a midnight rendezvous with a tractor with a front-end loader. It didn’t take a vivid imagination to picture a possible purpose behind that combination.

She leaned toward the mike. “What if that truck was hauling chemicals up to the gravel pit for burial?“

The salesman laughed shortly. “What if? Listen, Fannie, that what-if is so nasty you don’t even want to think about it. If somebody buried barrels of PCBs up there fifteen or twenty years ago, they are leaking like a sieve by now. That whole damned area is contaminated. Excuse my French.”

“PCBs?” Fannie thought she knew what he was talking about, but she was sure that some of her audience wouldn’t. “More about that, please, for listeners who don’t do acronyms.”

 “Polychlorinated biphenyls,” the man said promptly. “Chemicals used as insulating fluid in electrical equipment until the EPA put a stop to it. Dangerous chemicals. Toxic. Bad for your health. And very hard—if not impossible—to dispose of safely.”

“Leaking like a sieve,” Fannie repeated. “You mean, the PCBs could be contaminating the soil?”

“That’s exactly what I mean.” The salesman’s voice was grim. “Somebody oughta go up there and do a little checking. But after what happened a couple of hours ago, I’d recommend taking some security. Like maybe a 357. Loaded. Or a deputy or two.”

“You have a definite point,” Fannie said, wishing he didn’t.

“Hey,” the salesman said, “here comes my exit. Talk to you later, Fannie. Over and out.”

“Ten-four,” Fannie replied, still thinking about PCBs and about that white Lincoln and about the possible connection between the two. Where was that car now?

The phone line blinked and she reached eagerly for the switch. Maybe it was somebody with an update. But it was only a call from Sara Oljewski, who wanted the recipe for prickly pear jelly to send to her sister. Listeners asked for that recipe every now and then, so Fannie kept it in a box on her desk. She opened the box and took it out.

“To start with,” she said, “you’ll need some tongs or a barbeque fork and a blowtorch. Or instead of the blowtorch, you can use the burner on your gas stove. Either way, you’re going to want to burn off all those itty-bitty thorns off the fruit. They may not look like much, but they’ll fester something fierce if they get under your skin. So tell your sister not to skip this step.” While she read the rest of the jelly recipe, she couldn’t help wishing Mrs. Oljewski had saved her request for another day. Where was that white Lincoln? Surely somebody had seen it!

To her relief, the next call was back on track, although it wasn’t about the white Lincoln. It was a man who worked for the Texas Commission on Environmental Quality. Jake Browne, who was driving north on the interstate, had heard what the salesman had said about PCBs. He didn’t have a phone in his car, so he stopped at the Dairy Queen in New Braunfels. He was calling from the phone booth there.

 “I’ve been listening to your program,“ he said, “and I wonder if you can give me directions to this gravel pit you’ve been talking about. I’m on my way back to Austin from an inspection in Bexar County. While I’m in the area, I could check it out, take a few quick samples. Maybe save myself a half-day trip later. Could be an issue for the aquifer, you know.”

“What does the aquifer have to do with anything?” Fannie asked quickly. She liked to take every opportunity to educate her listeners.

Mr. Browne sounded pleased to be asked. “Well, the substrate around here is limestone. We might think of it as a layer of Swiss cheese a couple of hundred feet thick and full of holes, some of them the size of a loaf of bread, some as big as a house. This Swiss-cheese layer is what we call the aquifer. Like a sponge, it soaks up the groundwater and anything that’s dissolved in it. Then it delivers the water to the springs and creeks and people’s water wells.”

“So if there’s contamination up at the head of Sycamore Creek,” Fannie said, “it could migrate down to the new development? Or maybe even down to the Pecan River? That’s where Sycamore Creek ends up.”

“It could,” Mr. Browne said gravely. “Of course, I can’t say—nobody can say—until the site is thoroughly surveyed and tested. But if PCBs have been improperly disposed of at that location, potential development of nearby land may have to wait until the issues are resolved.”

Fannie knew what that meant. The mayor was not going to be pleased. “Thank you,” she said, and gave directions to the gravel pit. As an afterthought, she added the salesman advice about taking a deputy. “Not a bad idea,” Jake Browne said. “So how do I get to the sheriff’s office?”

In the control room, Henry was pointing to the clock and holding up one finger. Time for one more call. As Fannie toggled the switch, she realized she was getting tired. She would actually be glad to get home and join Claude on the couch, even if all they did was watch reruns of Family Feud.

But when she heard the familiar voice saying, “Hi, Fannie—it’s Ruby Wilcox,” she perked up.

 “Well, hello, Ruby, and welcome to the Back Fence,” she said happily. “Good to hear from you again! It’s been a while.” For listeners who might not have met her, she added, “Ruby owns the Crystal Cave, Pecan Springs only new age shop. She is our resident expert on weird things. She comes on the show every now and then to talk to us about astrology. Last time, she let us in on all the havoc that can happen when Mercury goes retrograde.”

Fannie wasn’t sure she believed all that astrology stuff, but her listeners loved it. The Back Fence had been especially lively that morning. “So what’s happening at the Cave today, Ruby?” she asked.

 “Lots, of course!“ Ruby said. “But it’s what’s happening out in front of Thyme and Seasons that I called about. You know, China Bayles’ herb shop.”

Fannie was immediately interested. China’s and Ruby’s two shops shared a large, century-old building on Crockett Street, with a lovely herb garden on one side and out front. Through the control room window, she could see Henry was making time-to-stop motions, but she ignored him. “Like what?” she asked. “What’s happening?”

“It’s that white Lincoln you’ve been talking about,” Ruby said excitedly. “It came around the corner too fast and the driver lost control. He smashed the front porch of the Craft Emporium next door and careened down the sidewalk and into our garden. He came to a stop just outside China’s shop!”

“Outside China’s shop? When? Have you called the police?”

“About three minutes ago. Yes, I called the police—they’re coming. And there goes China, out her front door.”

“Tell her not to confront him,” Fannie said urgently. “That driver is dangerous. We think he sideswiped a car and killed a man over on Half-Mile Road. And he nearly hit a boy at Alamo and Fourth.” She heard a door opening and Ruby calling, “China, Fannie says not to confront him. He’s dangerous!.”

There was a confusion of voices. “What’s happening?” Fannie demanded. “Tell our listeners what you see, Ruby!”

Ruby was matter-of-fact. “Well, the car came to stop just inches away from China’s plant rack. It looks like the driver is trying to open his door but it’s jammed or something. He’s struggling with it, shoving it with his shoulder. Now he’s got it open. He’s getting out. He’s big, dark hair, khakis and red polo shirt.” She paused. “I wonder if he’s a Libra.”

“A Libra?” Fannie asked. “What makes you say that.”

“Because an insurance company did a study recently and found that Libras are the most likely to have an accident.” She took a breath. “He’s leaning against the car . . . no, he’s sort of staggering now, but he doesn’t look like he’s ready to quit just yet. He’s taking a few steps. China is telling him to stand back.”

“China is still out there? Ruby, tell her to run inside and lock the door! And you go in, too. That man is a killer! What’s more, he knows that everybody’s looking for him. He’s been listening to—”

“It’s okay, Fannie,” Ruby said in a comforting tone. “China’s got it under control. Really. She’s armed. She’s being very stern. She’s telling him to get back in his car and wait for the police. She—”

“China is armed?” Fannie gasped. “She’s got a gun?”

“He’s not listening to her. He’s getting closer.” Ruby was speaking fast, the words tumbling out. “China is—” Her voice rose. “She’s telling him to stop, but he’s not stopping. She’s pointing it at him! She’s aiming! She’s going to—”

“Oh, no!” Fannie cried. China wouldn’t. She couldn’t. She—

“—squirt,” Ruby said.

Fannie was incredulous. “Squirt?”

“Right,” Ruby said. “She squirted. He’s screaming and crying. He’s bent over, trying to clear his eyes and nose. The poor guy is toast. I almost feel sorry for him.”

“SQUIRT?” Fannie repeated.

“Pepper spray,” Ruby said. “You know—that herbal stuff China sells in the shop. It’s pure capsaicin and fierce. She says it’ll stop a mountain lion in its tracks.” She chuckled. “It certainly stopped this guy. And here comes the cavalry.”

Fannie could hear the sound of sirens, the screeching of tires, and the slamming of doors.

“The chief is here,” Ruby announced. “He’s getting out of the car. He’s got a deputy with him. She’s patting the man down, looking for a weapon, I suppose. He doesn’t seem to have one. Now she’s pulling his hands behind his back and handcuffing him and the chief is reading something off a little  card.”

“His rights,“ Fannie explained to those of her listeners who didn’t watch Law and Order or Murder She Wrote. “It’s the Maranda rule.”

There was another siren. “More police cars,” Ruby said. “And now the chief is looking at the front right fender of the Lincoln, and the deputy is putting the guy into the back seat of the patrol car.” She took a deep breath as a siren began to wail. “And there they go. I guess it’s all over.”

Fannie glanced at the clock. “And here we go,“ she said. “It’s nearly one o’clock and time for the agri-weather report for all you farmers and ranchers out there. Thanks for that great wrap-up, Ruby. Give our thanks to China for keeping that guy from running away before the cops arrived. And to Charlie and May and Hazel and the electrical salesman and Gus and Lester and Miss Ima and Miss Irma and Mr. Browne and all the rest of you terrific Back Fencers. As always, you did a great job.”

It wasn’t until after she signed off that Fannie figured out that the license plate, I AM GAA could only belong to real estate developer George Armstrong Autry. Yes, of course. It made perfect sense, and she felt foolish for not having realized it before. If Maxwell the Wonder Dog had been here, he would have put his paw on it immediately.

But that was all right. Her Back Fence listeners were every bit as smart as Maxwell. They would figure it out for themselves. And when they did, they’d be sure to call in and let her know.

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This is the final episode of “Fannie and the Back Fence Gang.” Coming in January: “The Rosemary Caper,” a China-and-Ruby serial short story, free for all with bonus features for supporting subscribers. The latest book in the series (in print, ebook, and audio):

And yes, there’ll be another in this series: Forget Me Never, coming in May, 2024.