The Dish Ran Away With The Spoon

by M. Glenn Graves

  Starnes and I looked at each other and shrugged. We watched him head to his vehicle as long as the lights from the house permitted our vision to do so.

  “I think he was a little upset,” Starnes said.

  “Some,” I answered.

  Chapter 26

  A white-headed lady opened the door in the early morning light and saw the young girl standing on her porch. Laurel smiled and tried to be as polite as possible.

  “I need some help,” she said to the woman.

  “What do you need, girl?”

  “My friend is injured and is weak from losing blood. We were hiking across the mountains over to Grapevine, and we were attacked. He’s hurt badly,” Laurel said.

  “I don’t know you, child. What’s your name?”

  “Laurel Storm Shelton. I live over on Hickory Fork Creek, Road 1310. My mother is Beth Call. My daddy died of cancer about three years ago.”

  “You’re a long way from home and you look pretty ragged,” the woman said.

  “My friend needs some help,” Laurel persisted.

  “Did some animal attack your friend?” the woman said.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Laurel said knowing that her answer was misleading.

  The woman reached up and latched the screen door.

  “You wait here and I’ll fetch my husband,” she said, walking away and leaving the house door open.

  Laurel stood in the early morning light and waited. She didn’t know what else to do. She tried to listen carefully to hear anything the woman might be saying to her husband or to anyone else. Laurel had no way knowing for sure that she could trust the woman.

  A few minutes passed and the woman returned. Her husband was following. He was a small man. He had a slight forward bent in his posture. Balding, with a straggly white beard, he stood behind his wife as they both stared at Laurel through the screen door. He was holding a shotgun by his side. It was pointed at the floor close to his feet.

  She felt uncomfortable.

  “Will you help me?”

  “Where’s that friend you say you have?” the man spoke.

  He was wearing bib-overalls and a long-sleeve undershirt. His left hand was in his overalls’ pocket. His right hand was holding the shotgun by the trigger guard. Laurel began to have some serious apprehensions.

  “My friend is leaning against a tree at the edge of the woods towards the end of the road,” she said.

  “Why didn’t he come with you?” the man said.

  “I told you that he was injured. He’s lost a lot of blood.”

  “We can’t get involved in any shenanigans, girl. We’re good Christian people. We don’t want no trouble. Now you get on from here.”

  Laurel stood staring at this couple through the screen door. She wanted to argue, but thought better of the idea. They were not going to help her.

  “Doesn’t sound very Christian to me,” Laurel said as she turned away from the old couple behind the screen.

  She walked off the porch and back down the sidewalk and headed to where she had left Homer asleep in the woods.

  “Wait a minute,” the voice of the woman in the house behind her caused Laurel to stop at the edge of the road. “Hold up there, child. I’ll be right back. You wait right there.”

  Laurel turned back to see what was happening. The sunlight and the screen door restricted her view of the inside.

  The woman left Laurel’s view and headed towards the back of the house. The man and his shotgun moved to the door and watched Laurel suspiciously. He said nothing. He simply stood close to the screen and stared at Laurel without moving or saying a word.

  A few moments later the woman returned with something in her hands. She stepped in front of her husband and unlatched the screen door to his minimal objections. She was carrying something wrapped inside of a napkin. She walked out to Laurel at the end of her sidewalk and handed her the small bundle.

  “It ain’t much, but at least it’s something to eat. You look as if you need some food. Maybe you can share with your friend. I’m sorry I can’t do more.”

  Before Laurel could say thank you to her face, the woman hurried back inside her house and latched the screen door.

  “Thank you,” Laurel called out to the woman who was now safely inside. She didn’t hear Laurel’s appreciative remark because she closed the front door after her husband had insisted she do so.

  Laurel turned and headed off towards Homer. She was at a loss as to what to do next. Her mission had failed miserably except for the small bundle of food in her hand.

  She opened it as she moved along. It contained four biscuits; two of them had pieces of bacon inside. She decided to wait until she was with Homer before she would eat the gift.

  Laurel was grateful for the food but was greatly disappointed that she couldn’t convince the couple to help her with her injured friend.

  As she walked along, she considered her predicament. She had no way of knowing that the next move was not hers to make. She had no way of knowing that it would be a long while before she would see Homer again.

  A black SUV approached her as she walked along the left side of the road. It crossed her mind to flag the car down. She had no way of knowing that she would not have to flag the vehicle to stop.

  She watched the vehicle pull over to her side right in front of her. The lights were flashing and two people jumped out of the vehicle. A man was driving. A woman was the passenger. They both were wearing police uniforms and holding guns in their hands.

  The two rushed toward Laurel.

  “Are you Laurel Shelton?” the woman said.

  “Yes.”

  “Then come with us. We’ve been searching for you.”

  “I can’t leave my friend,” she said to the woman.

  “Where is your friend?” the man said.

  “He’s just off the road in the woods down that way,” Laurel pointed.

  “How far?”

  “Not too far,” she said.

  “Get in. We’ll drive there. You can show us,” the woman said.

  They put her in the back of the vehicle, holstered their weapons, and turned their vehicle around heading back towards Highway 213.

  “This is the spot,” Laurel said when they reached the place where she had left Homer.

  They pulled off the road and the man used the radio to call for backup.

  “Sheriff, this is Ramsey. D.C. and I got the girl, and we’re at the place where she says that fellow is off in the woods close by. We need some backup.”

  “Stay put. I’m on my way,” the voice on the radio said.

  “What’s going on?” Laurel said.

  “Your friend is a dangerous man and we need some help in apprehending him,” the female law officer said.

  “My friend is injured and needs medical assistance. He’s bleeding. He may die.”

  “Can’t take any chances. We’ll wait here for the sheriff,” Ramsey said.

  “I’m not waiting,” Laurel said and opened the back door.

  She jumped out of the SUV and ran into the woods.

  The two deputies followed in pursuit with their weapons drawn.

  Chapter 27

  “He’s still a winsome fellow,” I said as soon as Buster had driven out of the driveway that evening. “And he thinks you’re a ‘pretty good crime scene analyst.’”

  “Lovely guy. County is so fortunate. I guess my rating as ‘pretty good’ will have to do me.”

  “He didn’t even rate me,” I said.

  “He rated you, he just didn’t say it plainly. And if you’re fishin’, I have nothing to say. Back to the situation at hand, I’m at a loss. You have any ideas about what to do now?”

  “Go back and talk with Beth in the morning.”

  “Not tonight?”

  “Too tired and too much wine. I’m not kicking on all cylinders at present,” I said.

  “I could make some coffee.”

  “Go ahead and make the coffee. I can always drin
k some. But I still need to sleep and get some rest before I try to handle this thing.”

  “We haven’t done such a smashup job of handling this thing up to this point,” Starnes said.

  “Truth hurts. I still need some rest. My ineptitude could get worse.”

  “So, coffee or bed?”

  “Well, if you put it that way …bed,” I said and left her with the sleeping dogs in the living room.

  Early next morning I was standing on the small porch watching Dog and Sam go through their morning rituals. Some fog had rolled in and the air was a little crisp.

  It felt good. The coffee tasted like I hadn’t had any in a long time. It smelled good around Starnes’ place.

  “There’s trouble in River City,” Starnes said as she opened the door and joined me on the porch.

  “More than what we already know?” I said.

  “Yes, ma’am. Much more.”

  Our little foursome climbed into my Jeep. The dogs nestled close to each other in the backseat. We headed towards Madison. She filled me in.

  One of Starnes’ few friends in the Sheriff’s department who worked the dispatch called to tell her the latest development. The deputies Ramsey and Smathers had apprehended Laurel and were looking for Homer.

  “Is this in progress as we speak?”

  “That’s what she said. The two deputies radioed in that they needed the sheriff on the scene because they believed that Homer Gosnell was close to where they were.”

  “Location?” I said.

  “Where we were yesterday. Close to where the Grapevine road meets 213.”

  “We drove right by there.”

  “Of course, we did,” she said.

  We had twenty minutes of driving time before we would arrive on the scene of the present activity. I called Rogers.

  “So, you are still alive. Well, well, well. Nice of you to phone home, E.T.”

  “That’s a distant reference,” I said.

  “Had plenty of time to read and watch old flicks while you’ve been detached from me,” she said.

  “I’ve been in some remote places. No cell service and the battery died.”

  “Lame, really lame.”

  “Starnes will verify,” I said and then laughed a little.

  “What’s funny?” Rogers said.

  Starnes was frowning at me.

  “I’m trying to justify my behavior to a computer. This is amusing.”

  Starnes shook her head.

  “I find nothing in that amusing. I really thought you might be in harm’s way,” Rogers said.

  “Well, if it makes you feel better, I really was in harm’s way, at least some of the time.”

  “Did you find the girl?”

  “Almost.”

  “Don’t be cryptic with me, honey,” Rogers said.

  “Just truthful. We were hot on her trail, within a few miles, but never could quite overcome the distance between us. Found her friend, though.”

  “Explain that.”

  I brought Rogers up to date with all I could remember from the last few days of hiking in the rain in the wilderness. The saga of Homer Gosnell she found interesting.

  “Okay, let me make sure that the data I am receiving from you is clear. Odell Elisha Ponder, aka Lisha, is dead. Correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Jerome Eugene Boswell, aka Sticky Fingers, is also dead.”

  “Quite.”

  “And, last but not least, Hamish Curly McClure is dead,” she said.

  “Very.”

  “Is Starnes okay?”

  “Of course, she’s okay,” I said as I looked over to Starnes who seemed puzzled by my look.

  I decided to put Rogers on speaker.

  “So, with all three suspects dead, your case should be solved,” Rogers said.

  “You’d think that, wouldn’t you?”

  “You are telling me that it is not over.”

  “We’re knee-deep in questions and issues,” Starnes said before I could answer.

  “Nice to hear from you as well, Starnes Carver,” Rogers said.

  “Back at you, whiz-bang.”

  “Is that a complimentary name, whiz-bang?” she said.

  “If you like,” Starnes said.

  “I will look it up and see. Whiz-bang…hmmm … no one has ever said that to me.”

  “You’re young yet. You have a long way to go,” Starnes said.

  “May I interrupt this intimate thing you two have … I need some more information, Rogers.”

  “On what or whom?”

  “Anybody related to this case,” I said.

  “That would include you both as well,” Rogers said.

  “We remain in a perpetual state of confusion and wonderment, so you feel free to check on us as well. But primarily, I want whatever you can find on Homer Gosnell. Also go back and research some more about Laurel Shelton.”

  Starnes was puzzled.

  “Isn’t that the girl who was kidnapped?” Rogers said.

  “The same. But her actions of late are a bit confusing, so I want to know all you can find on her.”

  “And this Homer fellow, any other names to go by?”

  “So, Homer Gosnell is not sufficient as a name?”

  “If that’s his given name, it is quite sufficient.”

  “It’s the only name I have to give you. Work your magic, love. I promise to call in again if I have anything worthy to report. Call me when you have something.”

  “You might also consider calling without anything worthy just so I will know you are alive,” Rogers said.

  “You do like to mother me,” I said.

  “Stay free,” Rogers replied and ended the call.

  “Stay free?” Starnes said to me. “Not her usual farewell.”

  “I think she meant for us to stay out of jail.”

  “Oh.”

  Chapter 28

  Laurel Shelton was a good forty yards ahead of the two deputies. She spotted her backpack next to the tree where she had left Homer earlier that morning. She hurried by the tree, scooped up the pack without stopping, and continued running up the hillside. Despite her weariness from the last few days of fleeing in desperation, she found enough strength to run up the hill to get away from the deputies. Motivation can be powerful.

  “Stop!” Ramsey yelled at the back of Laurel as she moved quickly away from him. “Stop or I’ll shoot!”

  D.C. Smathers stopped.

  “Ramsey,” she yelled. “Don’t you dare shoot that girl!”

  Ramsey halted and looked back at his partner.

  “I wuzn’t gonna shoot her. I wuz just bluffin’. You know, tryin’ to scare ‘er. We can’t lose her. Sheriff’ll have our asses.”

  Ramsey raised his firearm and pointed it the sky. He fired once.

  Laurel jumped behind a tree out of sheer terror. She was breathing heavily. She waited a few seconds, caught her breath, and then peeked around to see if the deputies were aiming their guns in her direction. They appeared to be talking. The male had his firearm drawn, but he held it down at his side. It was pointing to the ground.

  She broke into a run straight uphill from the tree and didn’t stop. She knew just enough about handguns to know that the distance between her and the gunman, plus the fact she was steadily moving away from him, gave her good odds of escaping without getting shot. Getting away was primary now. The more urgent matter was to find Homer. Where had he gone? She could not imagine him getting far in his injured and weakened condition. Her heart was pounding. Adrenalin was flooding her system. This present desperation was different from what she had endured less than twenty-fours ago.

  “Stop shooting your gun,” D.C. said. “It’s doin’ no good. She ain’t stoppin’.”

  Ramsey and D.C. watched the young girl get smaller and smaller as she ran up the mountainside away from them.

  “There’s gonna be hell to pay,” Ramsey said. “You should’ve locked the back door of the vehicle.”

 
; “You cud’ve locked it once we were all inside,” she said.

  “Damn,” he said. “Sheriff ain’t gonna be happy one bit.”

  The siren was sounding back at the paved road. The sheriff had arrived. The two deputies watched Sheriff Murdock come slowly up the hillside toward them. Despite his weight loss from months of dieting, he was a long way from being fit.

  Murdock was huffing quite a bit when he approached Ramsey and Smathers. They waited while he caught his breath.

  “Where’s the girl?” he said between his deep breaths.

  “Up there,” Ramsey pointed.

  Murdock looked up the mountain but could see nothing but a thick forest of vegetation.

  “Up there where?” he was slowly regaining the normal flow of air in and out of his body.

  “She ran away, Sheriff,” Smathers said to clarify.

  “You let her run away?”

  “Didn’t let her, exactly. She just jumped out of the car and ran up into the woods to check on her friend.”

  “What friend?” Murdock said.

  “That Homer fellow who was with her,” Smathers said.

  “And, where is he? I thought you reported in that he might be injured.”

  “That’s what she told us … that he was hurt bad and bleeding, lying up here in the forest.”

  Murdock spotted the tree nearby where someone had been lying. Next to it was a bloody cloth. He walked over to the red cloth and knelt to study it without touching. He noticed that it was completely soaked but drying.

  “You two are idiots,” he said. “Remind me to make a note of this for your evaluations. Losing a prisoner is idiocy.”

  “Didn’t know she wuz a prisoner,” Ramsey said to him.

  “Everyone’s a prisoner until I say otherwise,” he shouted.

  “If you say so, Sheriff Murdock,” Smathers said.

  He turned toward D.C. Smathers and looked as if he wanted to say something more. No words left his opened mouth. He turned and headed downhill in the direction of his green SUV.

  “We need to get some dogs up here. We have to find them,” he said to no one as he moved down the hill.

  Ramsey and Smathers shrugged to each other and then followed. Just as the sheriff reached his vehicle, he turned back to the two deputies in his wake.