[ESA] A grand opening!

[David Young Henning]

Henning's mouth opened, then closed again. He glared at the remains of the nutria as if it were a personal insult. Then he said, voice back to neutral:

"Her name was Anna Graham, and someone crucified her on a tree. I think the killer slit her stomach as well. I don't know if her insides were disposed of in a sanitary manner; I'm not the FBI agent working the case, so I don't get to know all the juicy details. Any more questions, and you'll have to ask your mystery friend."

He looked down at the tiny human figurine, which had managed to withstand the worst of the heat with no more than a partially melted nose. He reached out, this time without hesitating, and flicked off some extinguisher foam from atop its head. Then he re-considered the tableau with his head tilted to one side.

"You know, Mr. Dingo, I think the satire comes through a lot clearer this way. Yeah. I think I know what the little guy is feeling now."

[Ebenezer Dingo]

"If you want it, it's yours, gratis," Ebenezer said, matter-of-factly.

Ebenezer looked at the young man. "I assume that you do not walk the streets in a bad mood, looking for some unfortunate newcomer to explode at, so I choose not to take offense. But please, have a level head when you begin accusing people of horrible, horrible things. I have seen such things destroy larger communities than this."

Ebenezer reached beneath the counter again, put a small glass on it, pulled out a bottle of something with no label, but very brown. He poured himself a glass, and took a sip of the stuff.

[David Young Henning]

"Uh... Thank you. I think." Henning gingerly hovered his hands around the base of the fire-warped object as if about to pick it up, and fell back again. He felt an unusual twinge of remorse at being lectured.

"I don't really have any qualms about accusing newcomers of horrible things... In fact that's what I spent my morning doing... but I didn't give you the benefit of a level head. Sorry. No excuses, except that I'm still a little shell-shocked from certain things that have been happening to me ever since..."

He laughed. "I was going to say ever since coming to Greenvale, but in retrospect I guess it really started about a year or so ago. Anyway. I wish I had something else to say, but I'm not much of a small talker and I don't hunt for sport..."

It suddenly occurred to him to ask: "I know you just opened up, but... Have you seen a man, about my age, close-cropped dark hair and a facial scar running through his left brow? He was probably dressed in a suit and tie, like me. We're not friends or anything," he hastened to add, "just colleagues, but you kind of remind me of him. This thing you've given me, for example. I don't even know the guy that well, but I can see him buying it in a heartbeat."

[Ebenezer Dingo]

Ebenezer nodded, and pulled out another glass, poured more of the brown stuff in it, and slid it closer to Henning's side of the table.

"Never caught your name, friend," He said.

[David Young Henning]

Henning wasn't sure if the nod meant yes, Dingo had seen York around, or simply yes, he was listening. He swiveled the glass around on the countertop with his fingertips, but made no move to pick it up.

"Henning. David Henning," he said. "I'm just here on vacation."

He finally raised the glass and sniffed it cautiously, then turned away so Dingo wouldn't see the face he'd just made.

"...Sorry if this comes across as rude, but is Ebenezer Dingo really your name? It's just so... colorful."

[Ebenezer Dingo]

Ebenezer laughed at the question, in the gentle manner of one who has heard the same question many times, and does not mind answering it again.

"It is my legal name, but I was borne with a different surname."

The cheerful smile left his face for a moment. "It is a way of shedding a past, letting a name go."

[David Young Henning]

"Mm. The past... That topic has been coming up a lot ever since I got here, for some reason."

Henning's mind rifled all through the examples of the last few days... Polly with her antique radio and scrapbooks full of local history... Wesley Uccello and the family he'd left behind... and himself and Charlotte, each with their own memories of those terrible four months in North Carolina. And who knew what else besides...

Without thinking, he took a deep draught from the glass in his hand. The bitterness of the drink almost sparked tears in his eyes, but he forced it down anyway and set the glass down on the counter with a loud clink. He said, one hand clutched over his burning chest:

"But does changing your name really help, Mr. Dingo, when it all starts coming back? When you least want it to. The past, I mean..."

[Ebenezer Dingo]

Ebenezer smiled, putting the bottle back under the counter.

"That depends, Mr. Henning, on how much your past wants you back."

His brow came down in thought for a moment.

"It may help to take on an intimidating, evocative name," he said, thoughtfully. "I myself am a wild dog." He shrugged. "I'm don't know. I'm not one of those sagely wise taxidermists you always hear about."

[David Young Henning]

"I wasn't thinking of changing my name, but now that you mention it... Does it have to be an animal?"

Henning was feeling curiously lightheaded. He looked mistrustfully at the glass he'd just emptied, but it was a little late for regrets. Getting behind the wheel at this point might be a foolish idea- road safety was chock full of easily enacted preventative measures that Henning did not wish to violate, because they appealed to his sense of self-control- so it looked like he might be stuck here for the moment.

"To be honest, Mr. Dingo, I'm not that interested in my past, and I hope the feeling is mutual. It's everyone around me I'm worried about. Maybe the world was always this strange and I just never noticed before, but lately it feels like every closet I open has some kind of skeleton in it."

He couldn't resist glancing at the half-charred remains of the nutria as he said this.

[Ebenezer Dingo]

"The world is hopelessly strange, Mr. Henning."

Ebenezer leaned forward on the counter. "I love that this is so, personally. Though loving it takes the understanding of the necessity that every vague and uncertain sighting of a Yeti in a Nepalese valley is opposed by the fact that poachers are somewhere in the area, hunting other rare treasures to extinction."

"Though I know what you mean, in a way. This town is strange. And not in the good way. It has a... sense of menace, of eyes watching and plotting against you."

[David Young Henning]

Henning couldn't follow the stuff about Yetis, so he let it slide without comment. The intoxicating sensation of the brown drink was beginning to feel almost pleasant; he tried to resist it. It was like pushing away a giant marshmallow.

"I don't believe in ghosts or goblins," he said firmly, as if to compensate for the swimminess in his head. "What are you saying, that Greenvale is haunted or something? I've met some odd characters since coming here, but they're as flesh and blood as you and I. As for watching and plotting, that's my territory... Maybe I'm the spook."

He almost laughed at his own joke, then realized with horror that he had made a joke, and the horror of it sobered him almost instantly. He nudged the empty glass with his fingertips.

"What the heck was in that stuff, anyway?"

[Ebenezer Dingo]

"Vodka, Kool-Aid, and Jolt cola. It was a favorite of the Sherpas. It's got all the alcoholic content of, well, vodka, and a ton of sugar and caffeine."

Ebenezer shrugged vaguely, remembering those times; times he had money to burn, times spent in all-out pursuit of mystery. Ebenezer had climbed the most dangerous mountains, dealt with the most dangerous people, and explored the most dangerous places. He sighed, and looked across the counter at his guest.

"It's an acquired taste. It will make you drunk enough to do something very stupid -- such as climbing up an incredibly dangerous mountain -- and has enough stimulation to give you the energy to do so."