The BVM.
The Barnstable Village Mafia was a loosely guarded secret society of law
enforcement vigilantes.
Most dismissed them as townies or neer do wells from less than fortunate back rounds.
Small town New England will always be Peyton Place and all will know everything
about everyone else.
I can not call myself a native of the Cape because I was not born on Cape.
I remember a salty retort.
Just because there`s batter in the oven doesn't make em muffins.
Never mind the fact that Mom`s family came over on the Arbella in 1630.
My parents had lost a child between myself and my brother.
If mom had been in Cape Cod Hospital, I would not be typing here today.
People died there from strep throat.
Before we had moved to Barnstable, Mr. Clarke had done something.
We never learned what he had done, but his hardware store paid the price.
The store front was all glass and frequently in shards. Sometimes just one
or two panels. Sometimes many. Once it was every one.
The elders heard Mr. Clarke had dropped a dime on someone.
Mr. Clarke had decided to sell the Vista Cruiser.
A late model grey station wagon appeared. It was a former
flower wagon. I thought that a bit strange, but who am I to
define strange.
The Clarkes always parked their cars behind the house.
The older girls who were driving knew this.
Mr. and Mrs. Clarke went to the ski house in N.H.
At late o`clock, I awoke to the sound of the BVM.
Glass. Metal. Swearing. Laughing. Screaming.
I heard the exhaust behind it all and then bang.
The engine lit up. First. Second, and whoa.
We all went outside. The girls were frantic. We squids were told to go back
to bed. Who saw what was being asked as we went inside.
I knew. I had not seen a thing.
The next morning mom asked if I had seen anything.
I said no, but there is only one car around that sounds like that.
She said nothing more.
Mom and I pulled into Jones` gas station to fill up.
Bill rarely came out to fill up any cars or trucks.
Hello Mrs. GFS.
Hi Bill.
Did you see anything funny this weekend Mrs. GFS?
Why, no Bill, we always have our shades down behind the curtains.
Nothing was said, but all had a conversation.
|