Chapter 6: The Great Clearwater Diner Massacre

Come November, Kylie felt comfortable enough to go on regular forays into Clearwater. Her mother was doing much better and had reclaimed the reins of the household during Kylie's stay in rehab. Also, Kylie's temptation to smooth out the edges was not strong anymore. Her mind was much clearer and the warm feeling of achievement over a number of songs she had written during her stay in Hillview helped lessen her perceived needs for anything mind-numbing. She was getting into a better place.

She'd had long sessions with the therapists while in rehab. Many things came to the light in those sessions, such as the repression she had felt in her teenage years. As the daughter of the District Attorney she had always felt the pressure not to damage her father's reputation. No cigarettes, no beer and no joints. Be a good girl, don't embarrass your father! She had resented that more than she had acknowledged it to herself. She also began to suspect that she had picked Cliff as somebody who was acceptable to her parents. A straight 'A' student headed for law school was a dead ringer for the job as James McAdam's son-in-law.

Yet, even with all the rationalizing there had to be more about Cliff. She noticed that she had not looked at any other man ever since her return to Clearwater. It was Cliff who was on her mind during those long, lonely nights in Hillview. When he had caught her with that bottle of Vodka, he had talked to her until she found the strength to empty the bottle. He had brought her home and offered her a cover story, the dizzy spell. Kylie felt that he was the one man she could turn to if she ever felt temptation again. How would it feel to be in his arms again, to enjoy the comfort of his hug? Could it ever be? Was there even the shred of a chance? Did she need his love or his absolution of her guilt?

She saw Cliff a few times in town and he was civil enough to acknowledge her with a nod to which she responded in kind. That was more than she could expect but it was not too promising. She fared better with Janet who allowed her back into her private life. Luke and Peter molded their behavior on Cliff's and gave her few openings. Kylie knew from Janet that Cliff had finally rejoined the band. They were practicing twice weekly in the barn of Janet's grandfather. Once, Kylie had sneaked close to the barn in the darkness and listened in on them. Hearing them joke with each other, she perceived the enduring friendship and that had left her sad beyond imagination. She was not a part of that friendship anymore.

It was November 21, the Christmas season was drawing close, and Kylie drove into town in her mother's trusted old Volvo. Somehow Kylie loved the old clunker. It reminded her of her youth and of good times. It also reminded her of the time Cliff and she had tried oral sex on the cluttered rear seat.

Kylie parked the car across from the Hensons' General Store and taking a deep breath she entered. The Hensons were still cold with her – a small wonder – but there were few alternatives in Clearwater. She hurried to make her selection and even paid with cash to minimize the time spent at the check out with Cliff's mother who totaled her purchases in icy silence. Kylie almost ran from the store back into the safety of the Volvo.

Her next stop was the public library where she spent an hour browsing through the shelves, rather to spend time than for a specific purpose. She had a violin lesson with old Mrs. Walley at eleven. Mrs. Walley was ancient, and she had been Kylie's teacher many years ago. The lessons gave Kylie something to work on, and they helped her to regain her skills. Mrs. Walley even taught Kylie how to use the violin in jazz and country music, something one would have never suspected the old lady to master.

Instead of her old 3/4 size violin, she now had a full size instrument that she had found in a shop in Missoula after her rehab. It even came with pick-ups and a jack to hook it up to a sound system or to her computer. The old violin was safely packed up again.

Already, Kylie used the violin in her demo recordings by playing interludes. It was definitely something that could give her a distinction, an edge in the business. In the evenings, she listened to the music of other artists who used the violin, like The Corrs but also Loreena McKennit's band. It became clear to Kylie how much was possible with the instrument.

When the lesson finished, it was half past twelve and she decided to drive to the Clearwater Diner for lunch. She knew the waitress there, Linda Carlisle as she called herself again after being Linda Winter for three years. Her marriage had not played out well, and she had returned to Clearwater after her divorce. In a way they were kindred souls, both sitting on the ruins of their life so to speak, and Linda sometimes sat with Kylie when she had time.

Today Linda was busy and Kylie ordered a roast beef sub and settled into her usual place – in the back and close to the restrooms – where she could sit and watch without attracting too much attention. Linda brought her order and bent over to speak in a hushed tone.

"Donny called me this morning. He was fired from his new job yesterday. He was drunk and he kept telling me that I must return to him."

"Don't!" Kylie answered urgently. "He'll only beat you up again. You have to think of the baby."

Linda was five months along, pregnant from a one night stand with some tourist.

"Yeah, well, I guess I'll lie low for a week," Linda sighed.

"You need to file for a restraining order, Linda. Talk to my father. He'll help you."

"Yeah, that may help. Thanks, Kylie. You're a good friend."

Well, at least one person in Clearwater had such a positive view of her Kylie thought wryly. She bit into the steak sub savoring the taste. This was from local cattle she knew, not the tasteless shoe leather they served in L.A. Joseph Pesker, a.k.a. Pesky Joe, the owner of the Clearwater Diner, was proud of his beef subs which were loaded with a quarter pound of prime sirloin roast. They had no equal for fifty miles around and were one reason for the brisk business he enjoyed.

It was funny how her eating habits had reverted to almost normal. The paranoid calorie counting of the past years had taken the fun from eating. She was eating twice as much now, but with the running she kept up her body was trim now instead of emaciated. Even her boobs had filled out a little, and she had to shake her head at the plans for a boob job which lay only five months in her past. What an airhead she had been!

All of a sudden, an image appeared in front of her inner eye. An image of a comfortable house before the backdrop of the mountains. A fire place for the winter, a three car garage to allow for a snow mobile, a wooden deck to enjoy the pure air, and maybe her own little basement studio where she could whittle and file on songs. Just say to hell with the big city and live a decent life, away from temptations and close to people who meant something to her. Kylie McAdam would finally come home.

She was torn from her happy line of thought by the sound of the entrance door being slammed shut. She looked up and stifled a cry. It was Donny Winter, Linda's ex-husband, and Kylie could see that he was drunk. She felt no fear for her friend Linda at first. There were at least five male customers in the diner plus Pesky Joe, and they would prevent any ugliness. Yet, when Donny strode towards the counter Kylie could see the butt of a gun stuck into the waistband of his jeans behind his back.

Kylie rose slowly to enter the Ladies' room. Once inside she pulled her cellphone and dialed 911. The dispatcher answered immediately.

"Emergency 911, how can I assist you?"

"This is Kylie McAdam. I'm at the Clearwater Diner. Donny Winter just entered. He's carrying a concealed gun. I could see it in the waistband behind his back. He's the divorced husband of the waitress. He's drunk." She cracked open the restroom door and heard Donny shouting at Linda. "They are quarreling. He's shouting at her."

"All right, Ms. McAdam. I'll send somebody over," the dispatcher answered in a calm voice.

Kylie did not dare to leave the restroom; she rather listened to the exchange outside. Donny Winter alternated between whiny apologies and the angry demand that 'the bitch' should return to her lawful husband and master. After hearing enough of Donny's rant, Pesky Joe interrupted him.

"Listen, Donny! You leave this place now, you hear! I'm done listening to your crap. Sober up and come apologize tomorrow, but go now!"

"I ain't going nowhere, no-how," Donny retorted angrily. "The bitch knows she's mine, an' she'll come along wit' me or else!"

"Donny, you leave now or I'll call the law on you. They let you out on parole in summer, didn't they? They catch you drunk, threatening and breaking the peace, and you'll go back into stir. You don't want that, do you?"

Donny started fumbling at his waistband behind his back, and before anybody could react, he had pulled the gun. It was a revolver Kylie could see. She desperately dialed 911 again.

"It's Kylie McAdam again. Donny Winter pulled his gun; he's threatening Mr. Pesker," she whispered into the phone giving the dispatcher no time for any of the polite phrases.

"Thank you. I'll advise the deputies, Ma'am. Can you keep the connection open and report the events to me?"

"Yes," Kylie answered, still in a low voice. "I'm in the restroom and he doesn't know I'm here."

"Please report any developments, Ma'am!" the dispatcher told her. She could hear the muffled orders. "All units, proceed to Clearwater Diner. A hostage situation may have developed. Anyone know a Donny Winter?"

Meanwhile Donny held Pesky Joe and Linda at gun point ranting at Joe. "You fuckin' asshole, why you're buttin' in? She give you some nookie? You put the fuckin' bun in her oven? Huh? Say sumpt'n!"

"Donny, Linda's my employee. She's working for me. I never touched her and the child isn't mine. I've been shooting blanks for fifteen years. I got tied up so I don't knock up my old lady."

"Sez you! I don' trus' you, you hear!"

Kylie's nightmare picked up a notch when she heard Cliff's voice. "Donny, it's Cliff, Cliff Henson. Put down the gun, you hear! I'm a deputy sheriff and I'm ordering you to put down the gun!"

He seemed calm but Kylie could hear the tension in his voice. She peered through the crack and there stood Cliff pointing a big automatic at Donny who was still training the revolver at the two people behind the counter. Donny looked at Cliff.

"No! You put down de fuckin' gun or I'll shoot de bitch an' her fucker!"

"Donny, easy there! I don't wanna shoot you and you don't wanna be dead, right? You know, with that midnight special you've got you don't stand a chance against a serious gun. Hell, that piece of shit may just blow up in your face, and think of the mess that'll make all over the tables. Right now, nothing serious happened yet. Everybody can walk away alive and unhurt. Yeah, you'll do some more time in the pen but that's nothing to being shot dead."

"Fuck you, Henson!" Donny screamed. "The bitch made me a joke. She's fuckin' preggers, an' not from me an' I'm her fuckin' husband. For you that's okay I guess. Kylie fucked around on you and you don' give a fuck. But I'm a real man; I don' allow my woman to fuck around!"

"Donny, what you aimin' at? You want I shoot you? Is it that? You want to end the misery? Be my guest, but put the gun down first so nobody else gets hurt."

Kylie picked up on Cliff's anger and she felt miserable. It was the first time she had heard any malevolent remarks aimed at Cliff but outwardly he seemed to keep his cool.

"You wouldn' shoot me, Cliff, wouldcha? Hell, you an' me were class mates. You wouldn' shoot a classmate."

"Linda was a classmate, too. Joe gave me my first job here at the diner. Donny, you hurt them and I'll shoot you as sure as hell. I don't want to but I'll do it. We can still end this shit. Come on, man! Is Linda worth dying over? Hell, she left you. She got herself knocked up by another man. She said all that shit about you, like you beat her up and stuff. And you wanna die over her? Get real, Donny! You were always the smart one, you were the cool one. Be cool now. Put down the gun. Don't make me shoot you; I couldn't live with that. Man, we went to school together!"

To Kylie's amazement, Donny's gun dropped a little while he stared at Cliff. Cliff was trying to talk Donny into giving up and he seemed to succeed.

"You know, Donny, you'll have to go back to the pen for this but once you're out again we'll find you a decent job. We'll get you help against the boozing. Donny, you're part of us. We won't give up on you. You put your act together, stop boozing, get a decent job, and find a better woman. Five years from now you'll be living with your new wife earning a good living and Linda will still be a waitress around here. And then, imagine, ten years from now you'll come in here with your family, wife and two sons, and you'll order lunch. Linda'll have to serve you and your family, think of that! Now that sounds like revenge to me!"

Kylie felt her nails bite into her palms. It worked. Donny was lowering the revolver. Cliff was nodding.

"See, Donny, that's what I call smart. Just put it down on the floor and kick it over to me and I can put my gun away too. Jeez, Donny, I hate to point my piece at you. Just gimme that gun of yours and I'll drive you away."

Nodding, Donny turned towards Cliff and bent to put the revolver to the floor. Kylie held her breath. Another second and it would be over.

Then all hell broke loose.

Terry Herringer was another patron sitting in the diner. He worked as a temp in the feed store, the only job he could find. Nobody else would hire him for he had left high school before he graduated and he had no GED either. His dream job was denied to him for Terry wanted nothing more in the world than to be a cop, a deputy. Ever since he had left school and moved out from home he had spent every penny of his savings, and he worked twelve hours a day, on guns. Clearwater had an ordinance against concealed carrying and law abiding citizen that Terry was, all he carried was a Tazer C2 bought cheaply from a pawnshop in Missoula. Better be prepared if any chance presented itself to show his mettle.

When Donny Winter had come in and started the ruckus, Terry had thought about subduing the man but he was a little scared. Donny had a full foot height on him and at least sixty pounds. Then Donny pulled the gun, a snub nose, piece-of-shit, .32 six shooter. Terry's mouth became dry when he realized that this was his chance. Under the cover of the table he carefully edged out the Tazer from his cargo pant leg pocket, but he was in Donny's peripheral vision and did not dare to move.

Then Deputy College-in-three-years entered and instead of just blasting away at Donny with that awesome 10 mm, that pussy talked to him. TALKED! But now Donny was turning, turning his back to Terry, and Terry saw the chance to end this, to be the hero of the day. Pointing the laser beam at Donny's buttocks Terry fired the darts.

The taser darts impacted on Donny's left butt cheek. That was not a good place anyway to have effect on the target, but Terry had also failed to notice that Donny carried a bunch of folded-up papers in the left back pocket of his jeans – his walking papers from his former employer. One dart hit the folded paper and did not quite make skin contact. The result was a strong buzz instead of a debilitating shock, and Donny jerked upright, raising his gun and turning towards the assailant.

Finally! Donny was seeing the light Cliff thought. He relaxed slightly when Donny lowered the gun. Then, without warning, Donny jerked and the hand with the gun rose up. Reflexes took over and before Donny's gun was halfway up Cliff had fired twice. He saw the hits, saw the spray of blood from Donny's left shoulder, but then he saw the muzzle flash of Donny's .32, and he felt a terrible blow to his own chest. In reflex, Cliff fired two more rounds, but then he dropped backwards, already succumbing to the severe wound shock.