Gil and Carrie Evachevski agreed that the twelve-mile commute from town out to the West Turtle Lake Club every day in the summer months was a pain in the neck, but having jobs, it was either do that or only make it out there on the weekends, and have only a limited time to enjoy being at the club. So they made the trip daily.

The Evachevski cottage was the one Carrie had used to winter over ten years previously. It was one of the older cabins, and had been added onto several times. The older cottages were mostly concentrated on the lakefront, so they were generally the more desirable and more expensive ones, though theirs had been purchased at a real sweetheart price four years ago through Carrie’s father.

The previous spring, the West Turtle Lake Club had installed a large hot tub on the lakefront by the pool in front of Commons. Gil and Carrie had quickly developed a habit of sliding up to the hot tub for a quick soak after work, to wash away some of the troubles of the day. It helped enough that they were considering adding one to their own cabin.

This hot Thursday afternoon, as had become normal, once they had parked their car and gotten out of their work clothes, they grabbed their towels and walked up the road to the hot tub, which usually tended to be rather deserted at that hour. They were very surprised to find Frank and Diane Matson soaking there.

Gil and Carrie joined them in the tub. “Did you hear about your mother?” Gil asked.

“What now?”

“She piled up her car this morning,” Carrie said. “About nine-thirty.”

“I heard the siren go off,” Frank admitted, “but I don’t know what it was about.”

Having gotten most of the details from Mike McMahon, Carrie quickly explained what had happened, and that she had been transferred to Camden, “Under what, I was told, could be called ‘heavy sedation.’”

“Blew a circuit breaker again, huh?” Frank said. “Carrie, do you remember the last time that happened?”

“I heard a bit about it later,” she said. “I wasn’t real old, then.”

“I was about eight, I guess,” Frank replied. “Wayne said years later that he thought it was just another way Donna tried to control us.”

“You make it sound rather callous,” Gil said.

“I hope I don’t sound that way,” Frank said, “but this morning, I decided I’d reached the point where I really don’t care any longer. Diane and I are over thirty, and I think we’re where we can make our own decisions about what we want to do. If mother doesn’t like it, then the hell with her. I have taken that crap from her for thirty years, and I don’t need it any longer.”

“I remember, even when we were kids, how tough it was on you,” Carrie said. “I’m surprised that you haven’t told her off before.”

“The hell of it is, she’s my mother,” Frank said. “But there are limits. You remember how I never wanted to come out here when I was a kid. It was worse for Barbara, and Dad was wise to not put the pressure on her. But I’ve always thought I could enjoy hanging around here in the summer like dad does, if Mother hadn’t crawl up and down my back every time I thought about it. Now, we are going to see.”

Gil smiled. “Are you staying with us, or with Dad?”

“Neither,” Diane explained. “Helga said one of the lakefront rental cottages came open unexpectedly, so we took it.”

“Two doors up from you guys, the blue one,” Frank added. “Nice little place. We may buy it. Anyway, I’ve got some vacation coming, and we might as well take it here as anywhere. That way I can slide in to the bank a couple mornings a week and keep things on track.”

“Do you want to eat in Commons, or would you like to come over and eat with us tonight?” Carrie asked, adding, “We’re going to grill some chops.”

“We’d pretty much figured on eating in Commons,” Diane said.

“When in Rome, and all that.” Frank agreed. “Who knows? I’ve listened to Helga talk about her rabbit food all these years. Maybe she’s right after all. I mean, if Mother was against it, then there’s likely something to it.”

“You’re like your dad,” Gil said. “If you’re going to do something, you do it headfirst.”

Matson smiled. “You mean like our little bet with LeBlanc?”

It was Gil’s turn to smile. “No matter what happens, that is going to be the talk at Rick’s for a week.”

“Did you get a chance to talk our deal over with Kirsten?”

“That’s going to be a little sticky,” Carrie said. “She got talked into being one of the judges in the chili contest, so it’ll be four or so before she can get free. She said she’d be glad to do it, if she could get here in time.”

“Been thinking about it,” Gil added. “Maybe we should go all the way and have Jennifer caddie for Sam.”

“That may be overdoing it,” Frank said. “Doesn’t the Geneva Convention have something to say about cruel and unusual punishment?”

Gil shook his head, and slid down into the water, so only his face was sticking out. “Let’s be real,” he said. “The only way we’re going to beat Sam is if we have him so psyched out that he won’t know what hit him. How’s the practice going?”

“Pretty well,” Frank replied. “I grabbed a bucket of balls and took off around the course this afternoon, not playing, but just kind of practicing a lot of different setups, and I think it went pretty well. You want to play a round after supper?”

“We’ll still have light if we get on it,” Gil agreed. “We need the evening practice, anyway.”

“You still want to grill those chops?” Carrie asked.

“By the time we get done screwing around with the grill, it’ll be too late to get in eighteen,” Gil said. “Let’s just cook here in the tub a while longer, then eat in Commons. I guess I’m with Frank. If Helga’s been carrying on about it all these years, then one vegetarian meal isn’t going to kill me.”

“Hasn’t killed her yet,” Frank agreed.

“You coming to breakfast at Rick’s tomorrow morning?” Gil asked.

“Hadn’t really planned on it,” Frank said.

Gil smiled. “I just had a thought. Let’s drive in, catch up on the gossip, and play with LeBlanc’s mind a little.”

“I don’t know that we want to freak him out too far,” Frank said. “He might bomb out on us.”

“Best way to win a battle is to get the enemy so screwed up that you get the victory without fighting,” Gil said. “That’s what they taught us down at Smoke Bomb Hill, anyway.”

Spearfish Lake Record-Herald, November 20, 1975

SPEARFISH LAKE APPLIANCE TO ADD HOT TUB LINE

by Mike McMahon
Record-Herald Staff

Spearfish Lake Appliance is going California with its new line of hot tubs, according to Gil Evachevski, owner of the store.

Hot tubs have not made their appearance in the Spearfish Lake country until now, but Evachevski said that he had tried one this summer, and was impressed with their relaxing qualities. “It’s just the thing to smooth out the mind after a hard day of work,” he said.

The appliance store will be dealing with the “Sierra Designs” wooden hot tubs, Evachevski said. One is on display at the store, and he recently installed one in the back yard of his Point Drive home.

Outdoor hot tubs are often seen as a warm-country, rather California type of thing, but Evachevski said that they can be kept operational year around. “I’m kind of looking forward to being up to my nose in the warm water and letting the snow blow in my face,” Evachevski said. He admitted, though, that there might be limits to their practicality in the deepest part of Spearfish Lake winters.

The hot tubs are heated with electricity or gas, and Evachevski said he knows of wood-burning tubs, but isn’t presently stocking any. “I want to get a little more experience with them in this cold climate before I get into that,” he said.

“So Rastus says to the Missus, ‘Once you been used for bait, you ain’t no good for nothin’ else, nohow,’” Sam LeBlanc finished his latest joke, then looked up and added, “Well, look who’s here. The skin game experts.”

Sharon saw Gil Evachevski and Frank Matson walk into Rick’s and take chairs on the opposite sides of the table. “Frank’s here,” she told the cook, then grabbed the coffeepot, went over to the table, and set a cup down in front of Gil and started to pour.

“Hey, whoa, stop,” Gil said. “I don’t want any coffee this morning.”

“What would you like?” she said sweetly.

“Oh, Jeez,” Gil said. “Something a little more natural. You got any herb tea?”

“Hey, Gil,” she said. “Do you think this is the Commons, out at the West Turtle Lake Club? You’ve got to be kidding.”

Gil looked her up and down. “No, I guess it can’t be Commons,” he said soberly. “The waitresses out there wear a different uniform.”

“So what can I get you?” she asked.

“Oh, I guess I’d better just have some juice,” Gil said.

“All right,” she said. “What kind?”

Gil thought for a moment. “Celery juice would be nice,” he said finally.

“Quit pulling my leg,” she said.

“All right,” Gil said, “how about a nice big glass of carrot juice?”

“Gilbert Evachevski …”

“Oh, all right, some tomato juice, if it’s natural.”

“You will drink what I bring you and you will damn well like it,” Sharon said, not entirely in jest this time. She turned to the other new arrival. “Coffee, Frank?

“I guess I could risk a little weak decaf.”

“Better not,” Gil said. “They treat it chemically to remove the caffeine.”

Frank nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. I didn’t think of that. No herb tea, right? I guess I’d better have tomato juice, too. Oh, hey,” he added. “Did you order my breakfast yet?”

“When you came in, like always.”

“Well, if Lori’s already got it going, I’ll pay for it,” Frank said, “but we’re going to have to do something else this morning. Got any muesli?”

“Oh, God, not you, too.”

“Granola?”

“How about corn flakes?”

Frank looked at the ceiling for a moment. “I guess it’ll have to do, but only if you have skim milk. I suppose you don’t have goat’s milk, and whole cow’s milk’s got too much fat.”

“Corn flakes, skim milk. Anything else?”

“Yeah, some dry whole wheat toast, or rye if you’ve got it.”

Gil smiled. “Hey, that sounds pretty good,” he said. “Bring me an order of that, too.”

“What the hell has gotten into you guys? Herb tea, muesli, goat’s milk?” Sharon said, unable to hold it any longer.

“Yeah, what the hell?” LeBlanc said. “I never even heard the Colonel order that shit.”

Matson smiled. “That’s why dad doesn’t come in here in the summer. Got to stay ready.”

“Just what do you mean by that?” LeBlanc demanded.

“Very simple,” Gil said. “When Ursula Clark designed the West Turtle Lake Club course, she put some kind of a gypsy hex on it so it’s only nice to vegetarians.”

“Damn right,” Frank said. “Eat a steak and play that course, and you’re out seventeen bucks in golf balls.”

“And,” Gil added, “you get the Ho Chi Minh’s revenge, without a crapper within a mile.”

“You guys are fill of shit,” LeBlanc said. “Sharon, bring me another order of sausage and eggs, and make sure they’re fried in butter.”

“Did Carrie get her CPR card renewed?” Frank asked Gil, almost ignoring LeBlanc.

“No, I think it’s expired. She said something about taking the course again in the fall. I’m current, though.”

“Well, good, although I don’t know how much Sam would like to have you French-kissing him, even in that situation.” He turned back to LeBlanc. “Eat hearty, Sam.”

“God,” Gil replied. “Remember that guy from down in Camden a couple years ago?”

“Yeah, out on the fifth fairway,” Frank said. “Too bad the ambulance was out on a run to Warsaw.”

George Webb nodded, getting into the spirit of the thing. “Sad case,” he said. “I remember that. They might have saved him.”

“Didn’t you have your usual breakfast last Friday?” Gil asked.

“Yeah,” Frank said. “Damn sausage and all that fried food could have killed me, but I ate at Commons with dad, so I guess Ursula’s hex decided to take pity on me.”

“Where the hell did she learn that hex, anyway?” Gil asked. “She’s north German, she’s not gypsy.”

“Got it from someone in Helga’s family, I think,” Frank said. “At least, that’s what I was told as a kid.”

“You guys are so full of shit it’s pathetic,” LeBlanc said. “I know what you’re trying to do, and you aren’t going to psych me out.”

“Just keep thinking that, Sam,” Gil said. “Just keep thinking that. I’ve been playing that course since 1961, and I’ve learned to believe in things that go ‘bump’ in the night.”

Frank nodded; the rest of the table had fallen silent, listening to the interchange. “I’ve been around that course since I was a kid,” he agreed. “Strange things happen out there. God, I’ve seen more than once, you hit a ball up in the air, and it doesn’t come down. It … just … disappears, poof, into thin air, like it never existed. Hey, Sam, have you ever seen a slice go full circle?”

“What do you mean, full circle?”

“Happened to a guy last summer,” Frank said. “Stopped for a steak down at the Steak House in Albany River, then came out to the course. Stepped up to the first tee, and shanked this slice into the air, and it just went winging off the fairway. He bent down to tee up another ball, and his drive caught him right on the side of his head.”

“I was there,” Gil said. “Cold-cocked him. Just laid him right out like he’d been hit with a fifty caliber.”

“Just like a boomerang,” Frank agreed. “God, that ball was really singing when it went over the putting green.”

“Yeah, Ursula’s hex was really working that day,” Gil said. “Must have been the full moon.”

“Yeah, must have been. Anybody notice what phase the moon’s in tomorrow?”

Webb swung his head around to look at the calendar. “Full moon,” he said.

“Well, we’d better damn sure get the game over with by dark,” Frank said. “The bats will be out.”

“Bats?” LeBlanc said. He was none too crazy about bats.

“Yeah,” Matson said. “Big colony of them out there. There must be a cave out there or something, but we’ve never found it. Boy, right at the full moon, they come out of the trees like black flies.”

“Clouds of them,” Gil agreed.

“Hey, Gil,” Frank said. “I saw you had some busted up pallets over behind the store.”

“Yeah, I’m going to put them out for the junk.”

“Better cut some stakes.”

Gil shook his head. “Naw, that’s bullshit. I don’t think any of them are vampires. Just your ordinary little brown bat.”

“Yeah, but you can’t be too careful, what with it being the full moon, and all.”

“I guess you’re right,” Gil said. “Sam, do you believe in vampires?”

“That’s bullshit,” LeBlanc replied.

“All right, I won’t cut one for you,” Gil said. “You’ll just have to take your chances.”

“You guys are so full of shit that it’s running out your ears,” LeBlanc said.

“Hey, no,” Sharon said; she still hadn’t left to get the order, preferring to hear the discussion. “My sister got bit by one, once.”

“Does she go out at night anymore?” Gil asked.

“I don’t know,” Sharon said. “I haven’t seen her for years. We don’t hear from her anymore.”

“You lived out in Amboy Township when you were a kid, didn’t you?” Gil asked.

Sharon nodded. “I didn’t move into town until I got married.”

“Probably what happened, then,” Gil said, knowing full well that Sharon didn’t have a sister. “Wouldn’t be the first funny thing to happen to an Amboy Township kid.”

“Yeah,” Coach Hekkinan said. “Remember Henry Toivo?” All of them knew, of course, of the disappearance of the Toivo boy in Vietnam. “They said it was like he disappeared into thin air.”

“Something funny’s going on out there,” Frank agreed. “They say there’s UFOs out there. Maybe one them knew that the Toivo kid was from Amboy Township, and came for him.”

Webb nodded, “They got UFOs out in Amboy Township, sure. I remember when I was working here before, back about ’60 or ’61, we did some stories about the UFO sightings out there. The Air Force said they were something like luminescent marsh gas, but there weren’t any marshes around where the UFOs were seen.”

“Did you see any?” LeBlanc asked.

“Sure. Tried to get a picture, too, but it didn’t come out.”

“Some of those UFOs, they got something that screws up film,” Frank said flatly. “It’s like you can’t get a picture of a ghost.”

“Don’t tell me they’ve got ghosts out there, too.”

“Well,” Gil said. “There are some people that say that Wayne Clark’s ghost hangs out around the West Turtle Lake Club. It’s the only place where Donna wouldn’t come to bug him.”

“I don’t believe it,” Frank said. “If Wayne’s ghost is anywhere, it’s over in his house on Railroad Avenue, twisting Mother’s tail every chance he gets. That could be what happened yesterday.”

LeBlanc stood up. “You guys are too much,” he said. “You have got the worst case of the brown eyeballs that I’ve ever seen. All this ghost and hex and UFO crap doesn’t mean I’m not going to whip your asses tomorrow afternoon.”

“Kind of whistling past the graveyard, aren’t you, Sam?” Gil asked.

“The hell with you, too, Evachevski,” LeBlanc said, and headed for the door. Trying to cover up big smiles, and keep from bursting out laughing, Frank and Gil exchanged winks.

“How’s your mother doing?” Hekkinan asked.

“To tell you the truth,” Frank said, “I’ve been out at the club, and I haven’t heard. I guess I’ll have to run down to Camden today, or at least call.”

“The rumor mill had her pretty well off her nut,” Hekkinan said.

“That’s what I heard,” Frank said. “Well, we’ll know pretty soon.”

In a minute or two, Sharon brought Frank and Gil their tomato juice, and the rest of their “alleged” breakfasts. “Well, we ordered it,” Frank said, “We might as well eat it.”

Conversation around the table turned back to the latest rumors about the Szczerowski kid and his pregnant girlfriend. Considering that the rumor mill had him shot three times, married four, and broke up twice in about three days, no one, not even Hekkinan, was really sure what was happening.

Finally, Frank said to Gil, “It’s early yet, but I’ve got some business property I need your opinion on. Can you take a little ride with me before you open the store?”

“Millie will be in at nine,” Evachevski said; it was the regular day for his bookkeeper. “She can watch the store if we’re running late.”

“Let’s try to make it quick,” Frank said. The two got up and left, and went out and got in Frank’s car.

“By God, I think we got him,” Gil said, as soon as Frank got his door closed.

“I think we did, too,” Frank agreed. “We must have pushed a button, somewhere.”

“I don’t think he’s gonna back out on us,” Gil said, “but we might have him looking over his shoulder a bit. Where the hell did we come up with some of that stuff, anyway?”

“I don’t know about you,” Frank said, “But some of the best of it, I was making up as I went along. I didn’t get a chance to use the line I thought up about the mushroom pentacle, though.”

“I am not going to ask what a mushroom pentacle is,” Gil said.

Frank smiled. “Good,” he said. “I’m not sure what one is, myself.”

You’re going to go back out to the club and practice, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, but I should drop in at the bank, just to make sure nothing much happened while I was gone.”

“Hey,” Gil said, “Where are we going, anyway?”

“Albany River,” Frank said. “We both need a decent breakfast, but we don’t dare get one in Spearfish Lake today, not after that performance.”

Spearfish Lake Record-Herald, July 17, 1961

MORE UFOS SPOTTED IN AMBOY TOWNSHIP

by George Webb
Record-Herald Staff

Several more witnesses, all requesting anonymity, reported seeing Unidentified Flying Objects in Amboy Township in the vicinity of the Turtle Lakes, over the course of the last week.

One person said, “It ain’t marsh gas, or whatever the Air Force said it was. The darn thing moved too quickly, and it hummed. Besides, there ain’t no marshes around there.”

Though several observers claimed to have seen one or more events, no one offered an explanation of the faint, glowing lights hovering over various points in the township. An investigator for the Air Force, who visited the site earlier this year, said he thought that the unidentified lights were areas of luminescent marsh gas, but was unable to provide an understandable explanation of how marsh gas could glow.

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