Donald Turner's house is located in a small town in northern West Virginia called Pleasant Valley, not far from Pittsburgh. Kellen agrees to drive up from Bluefield and meet me at Uncle Donk's place in the morning. The house no longer belongs to the Turner family, but Kellen is on good terms with the current resident.
When I mention that Kellen is Uncle Donk's nephew, Megs replies, "What are the odds?"
The odds are impossible to calculate. Let's rewind. I experienced a meltdown, I drove aimlessly out of Pittsburgh and found myself in some little random town in southern West Virginia. I could have driven in any direction and gotten off the highway at any one of dozens of exits along the way. But instead, I chose the highway exit that led me to Bluefield, West Virginia where I managed to get a complete stranger fired from his job as a bartender. And the stranger turns out to be related to one of the people who allegedly used "Tiger's Teeth" weed killer and, as a result, died from the same type of cancer. The odds of all these events aligning are mind-boggling.
Maybe my mental breakdown and subsequent road trip were more than an episode of dissociative fugue. Maybe all of this was destined to happen.
Let's pump the brakes, Phil. These are exaggerated feelings of self-importance. Sounds suspiciously like narcissism to me. I hear Dr. Lindrutten's words in my head. "What did we say about self-diagnosis?" It's probably the only valuable advice the man has ever given me.
#######
The following morning at 10:02, I trot up the walkway toward the front door of a little gem of a house in this rural middle-class neighborhood in Pleasant Valley. In contrast to most of the other homes on the street, this one is cottage-like with shutters flanking the windows and rows of purple and pink flowers lining the sidewalk.
Before I reach the front door, Kellen steps out onto the porch to greet me wearing a welcoming grin.
"Well, I'll be damned. Phil Robiski."
"Ta da!"
"When I saw those cops pull you over..." Kellen shakes his head.
"Yeah, that wasn't my best night. Sorry you had to see that."
An elderly woman in a flowered dress stands inside the doorway. Kellen makes the introduction.
"This here's Meem."
"Sojourner Brooks." She smiles, patting her neatly-styled hair into place.
"Meem to most of us," says Kellen.
It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Brooks. Are you Mister Turner's widow?
Both Kellen and Mrs. Brooks crack up.
"Goodness, no," she says. "Used to rent the yellow house just down the street."
Kellen adds, "Uncle Donk's wife's been gone twenty years ago."
She corrects him. "Twenty-three."
"Meem, here, bought up Uncle Donk's place after he passed."
"It needed someone to look after it."
"It looks like something out of Home and Garden Magazine."
"Oh, go on now. Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee?"
Kellen sweetens the offer. "Can't nobody make a better cup of coffee than Meem."
#######
Mrs. Brooks serves me a cup of coffee that is nothing short of spectacular. She lowers herself onto the couch beside Kellen.
"This is the best coffee I've ever had in my life!"
"What did I tell you?" Kellen takes another drink.
Meem smiles proudly.
"So, Ms. Brooks, you said that Mr. Turner had a run-in with some men from Trollamex?"
"I don't remember Donk saying anything about Trollamex but he did say a couple of men showed up one afternoon wanting to buy back his weed killer, or fertilizer, or whatever."
She sips her coffee. "He said he didn't like the looks of 'em and they took a nasty tone with him."
Kellen leans forward. "Uncle Donk told 'em both to hit the road. That shoulda been the end of it, but in the middle of the night, Donk hears ol' Sparky carryin' on somethin' terrible."
"I remember that," says Mrs. Brooks. "Said he comes outside with his baseball bat in hand and doesn't he find those two men up in his crab apple tree? You wouldn't wanna mess with Sparky."
Kellen grimaces. "That dog was half grizzly bear, or Tasmanian Devil or something like that. That crazy animal went right up the tree after those boys. Rumor was that Sparky tore 'em up and ate their remains. Bones and all."
"That's nonsense." Meem weaves him off.
"Nobody ever saw them again," Kellen sips his coffee. "That's all I'm saying."
"Would either of you know if Mister Turner ever used a product named "Tiger's Teeth?"
They look at each other and shrug.
"You could take a look out in the shed if you like," says Meem. "It's never been cleaned out. Most likely just as Donk left it. I got a neighbor kid to cut my grass. I'm not about to go fussin' around with lawnmowers and hedge clippers. In my day, lawn work was a man's job. I prefer to keep it that way."
"Yes, ma'am," says Kellen. "Now how about that key, Meem?"
#######
Kellen unlocks the shed and opens the door. A beam of light cuts across the neatly stacked products on the floor and on the shelf. Kellen and I peer inside. There, against the wall are three twenty-pound bags marked "Tiger's Teeth" with the Trollamex logo in bold, red letters across the tops of the packages.
I turn to Kellen. "Remember you telling me how you always hated that "you're either with us or against us" bull crap?"
"I'm feelin' you, brother."
I snap a few photos with my phone.
"I'm gonna rent a storage locker and secure these bags. I'll move them over once I get my car back."
"Is it still down in the pound in Bluefield?"
"Yep, racking up a bill of forty-five bucks a day."
"Damn." Kellen locks the storage shed. "You want a ride down there?"
"Right now?"
"Soon as I finish up my coffee."
#######
It's nearly 1:00 PM when we pull out of the McDonald's drive-thru cradling greasy paper bags in our laps. We've been on the road for a couple of hours.
Kellen expertly unwraps a burger with one hand and brings it to his mouth.
"We didn't need to do the drive-thru," I say. "Or McDonald's."
"I got things I gotta do." He takes another bite of his burger.
"I don't even know how I'm gonna figure this out with my car."
"What do you mean?"
"I gotta get a windshield installed."
"Oh, yeah. Forgot about that."
"The guy on the lot says I need to tow my car out of there to--"
"What lot? AJ's?"
"Yeah. I think it is AJ's."
"Stu, that nasty son-of-a-bitch."
"You know Stu?"
Kellen gives me the side-eye. "
"Stu." He lets out an irritated sigh.
"I hope it takes off some of the pressure at home when my wife sees me driving up in the car. Things have been a little tense around Casa Robiski lately. As you might imagine."
"Been through two divorces. You don't want relationship advice from me."
"Sorry to hear that."
"The first one I screwed up. We shouldn't have been in such a damn hurry to get married. But we did and I wasn't ready. It's a shame, too. She's a good woman."
He shoves the last wedge of burger into his mouth then chases it with a long swallow of soda.
"The second one, I don't know what I was thinking. She was a straight-up pain in the ass from day one and it only went downhill from there. Shapely thighs and naughty eyes. That girl should have come with a warning label. My sister, Deena was waving red flags and setting off sirens. But would I listen?" He shakes his head.
"I'm a lucky guy. Megan is amazing. She's a great mom and a great wife."
"Having someplace to go home to where people are happy to see you. That sounds real nice."
I nod as I insert a clawful of french fries into my mouth.