The Corpse at the End of the Chapter

by Karen Hayes

  “Whatever.” The sheriff got up and grabbed his jacket. “I’d better get going. There’s a football game on in a few minutes I wanna watch. I’ll pick you up at ten in the morning. And Suds is having a ‘luncheon’ at the Rainy Day afterwards. Free burgers, beer and onion rings. Can’t miss that. Better than that Frenchy stuff.”

  TWENTY

  THE WEATHER COOPERATED FOR RUBY’S FUNERAL. The skies stayed blue, just as they had for the last two days. A good part of the town of Misty Valley (including the Reverend and Mrs. Taylor, which was a surprise) showed up, as well as quite a few from Pleasant View. There were even some who had come all the way from Portland. Mario Caruso, Ruby’s former bartending teacher/boss was there, Cindy Doyle’s adoptive parents were there, former prison warden Don Sargent was there, but without Celine Webb. Harve asked him about her and Don said she had flown to Boston on Friday morning to be with her daughter, who was having a baby ‘any time now.’

  “But I thought I should come, since she spent time in my prison,” Sargent said.

  A lot more people attended Ruby’s funeral than had been at Agatha’s. The mortuary’s tiny chapel was filled to standing room only.

  The organist from the Baptist church played some prelude music, after which Suds got to his feet and nervously approached the podium.

  “It fills my heart to see so many of you here today,” he said. “Ruby were just like my daughter and I grieve for her like any father would grieve for his child. But I’m not much for speech makin’, so I’m leavin’ that up to you. Any of you that want to say somethin’ about Ruby, please feel free to come up here and say it. But before that, Drew’s gonna do us a song with his guitar. It’s one of Ruby’s favorites.”

  Suds sat down and wiped a few tears from his eyes as Drew Barnes came up to the front and adjusted the microphone that Roger Peace had set up. He sat on a stool in front of the mic and gave the guitar a preliminary strum.

  “Ruby liked a lot of songs,” Drew said, “but when I’d go to the Rainy Day and take along my guitar, just to play and sing for a bit, she always requested this old Willy Nelson hit.”

  He strummed a bit again, then stopped and took a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his eyes before he began.

  “Maybe I didn’t love you

  Quite as often as I could have

  And maybe I didn’t treat you

  Quite as good as I should have…”

  Drew’s pleasant baritone voice carried well through the small room. The song was familiar to many in the assembled group, and some wanted to sing along, but it’s hard to sing when you’re crying. So they just listened to Drew sing, even through his own tears.

  “If I made you feel second best,

  Girl, I'm sorry I was blind.

  You were always on my mind,

  You were always on my mind…”

  The room was quiet as Drew finished the song. It was a fitting tribute to a woman who, though considered by some to be a lush and ‘poor white trash,’ was nevertheless well-loved by the assembled mourners, people she mixed drinks for, people whose problems she listened to.

  Ron and Cindy got up next, together, holding hands. Very few of those present knew of their relationship to Ruby. But they were about to find out.

  “Ruby definitely wasn’t second best,” Cindy said. “She was my birth mother, and she loved me. Even when I had no idea who she was, didn’t even know I was adopted, she was following my life, taking my picture when I didn’t know she was there.”

  Cindy, had, with the sheriff’s permission, taken some of the pictures from the mantel in Ruby’s apartment and had them enlarged. She held these up, one at a time, pictures from when she was a toddler up to the one of her taken beside the ambulance.

  “But what Ruby didn’t know until about a year ago was that she’d had twins. Ron Parker here, your fearless fireman, is my brother. And she didn’t give us up because she wanted to, but because she had no choice.”

  “Ruby had her faults,” Ron said, “but don’t we all? However, as I got to know her this past year, I discovered that she was a warm, caring, loving person. I don’t know who could have even wanted to…to kill her” He paused to wipe away a tear and blow his nose. “I hope that person is brought to justice soon. She gave me life and for that I will always be grateful. And I am truly glad that I was able to get to know her, even if for just a little while.”

  One by one, Rainy Day regulars got up and said a few words. None of them were used to speaking in public, unless you could call telling jokes in a bar speaking in public. But all had fond memories of the bartender who listened to them when they were down and who laughed at their silly jokes. ‘Why are there not many virgin forests left? Because of all the knotty (naughty) pines.’ Many echoed the words of the song Drew had sung and said Ruby would be always on their minds.

  Sheriff Blodgett was the last to speak. He said how much he enjoyed watching Ruby do her bartending jugging tricks and promised that her killer would be caught, “if it’s the last thing I do.”

  Reverend Ashton ended with a brief prayer, Suds thanked everyone for coming, and the organist played a postlude as he crowd filed out and headed towards the cemetery in back.

  The sheriff caught up with Ron and Cindy as they were leaving the mortuary.

  “Say, Ron, would you be interested in coming to Portland with me tonight to hear a rock band called Zombies ‘R’Us? I would feel more comfortable going if I had a young person with me.”

  “Sure, Sheriff. I’m not really familiar with them, but I’m open.”

  “I love that group,” Cindy said. “Could I come along?”

  “You’ve heard them?” Harve asked.

  “Sure. My kid brother Kenny’s their drummer.”

  Harve was surprised, but thought this most auspicious. “So you know all the band members?”

  “Dirk McGraw, their lead guitarist, grew up next door to me. He and Kenny have been friends since they were babies. Bassist Lee Brown and the other guitarist and lead vocalist Eddie Childs, came along later. So, yes, I know them all, including Dirk’s crazy girlfriend, who sometimes does vocals with them.”

  “His crazy girlfriend?”

  “Yeah, Abby something. She’s weird, but she has a pretty good voice.”

  “Weird in what way?”

  “She has more piercings than anyone I’ve ever seen—both eyebrows, one of them in two places, nose, lips, cheeks, and both ears all the way up. Her navel, too, but I don’t know what other piercings she may have on her body. And she dyes her hair in very unnatural colors. I think it’s pink and purple right now, but a few months ago it was lime green and blue. Once she had it a lot of different colors, like those wigs you can buy for Halloween. I’ve seen kids do stuff like that, but she’s older than I am. Maybe she’s trying to look younger because Dirk’s only 23.”

  “Abby’s the reason I need to talk to Dirk,” the sheriff said. “She’s dead.”

  “She’s dead? Oh, no! Did she OD? She was pretty heavy into drugs, I think. She always seemed to me to be totally stoned.”

  “No.” Harve shook his head. “She was murdered. Her body was found up by The Pond Saturday morning. Ryan brought her body down. Didn’t he tell you about it?”

  “He said something about bringing a body down from The Pond, but he didn’t say who—or that it was someone who had been murdered. Sheriff, that makes three murders in just over a week!”

  “Tell me about it!”

  “So why way up here?”

  “Abby’s from here,” Harve told her. “The Reverend and Mrs. Taylor are her parents.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “I’m not kidding.”

  Cindy turned away, shaking her head. “This is just too much.”

  “You think this Dirk had something to do with it?” Ron asked.

  “I don’t know,” Harve said. “But we have to check him out. So do the two of you still want to come?”

  They both agreed, so the
sheriff arranged to pick them up at the fire station at 5:30. Hurrying after the group that was now gathering at the graveside, he caught up with Copper and told her Ron and Cindy were both going to accompany him to the Study Hall bar that night.

  “Cindy’s going, too?” Copper asked.

  “She knows the group well,” Harve explained. “Her brother’s in it.”

  “I didn’t know she had a brother.”

  “I didn’t know you had a brother until yesterday.”

  * * *

  The post-funeral luncheon at the Rainy Day Bar and Grill did not feature catered French food. Most of the people there would likely have turned their noses up at it. But Suds provided a plenteous supply of his various burgers, fries, onion rings and ice cold beer. It was a less somber gathering than the funeral had been, with people telling Ruby’s favorite jokes and Drew playing his guitar and singing lots of Ruby’s favorite songs.

  Ron and Cindy came for a short time and were bombarded with well-wishers who, of course, had had no idea Ruby’d had any children, let alone that they were people everyone knew—well, everyone knew Ron, anyway, and some knew Cindy. And Suds let the two know that they were always welcome in the Rainy Day.

  “Ruby were like my own daughter,” he told them, “so you will be like my own grandchildren. You can eat here free whenever you want. You’ll need to pay for the booze, though.”

  Cindy laughed and said she didn’t drink, anyway, but she’d certainly accept a free burger from time to time, as the McDonald’s in Pleasant View couldn’t compare. Ron agreed that the reports he’d heard about Suds’ burgers and onions rings couldn’t come close to doing them justice, and he’d gladly pay for his beers to able to eat them.

  After eating two double bacon cheeseburgers and countless onion rings (although he passed on the beer because he still had to drive to Portland), Sheriff Harve Blodgett decided it was time to take Copper home and change into something more appropriate for dropping in on a college bar. He picked up Ron and Cindy, who had also changed, at the requisite time and, as they drove into the city, he asked Cindy to tell him about the band they were about to hear.

  She said that Dirk had been given his first guitar, a child-sized version, as a Christmas gift when he was just six years old. He became totally obsessed with his guitar and spent countless hours teaching himself how to play it and practicing. When his friends were all out playing baseball, Dirk was in his basement, working out complicated riffs on his guitar.

  A couple of years later, he got a bigger guitar, and when he was twelve, he asked for, and got, his first electric guitar.

  “The electric guitar was a bit much for the basement,” Cindy said, giggling. “The McGraws quickly got tired of having to turn the volume way up on their TV just so they could hear I over the guitar, so Mr. McGraw built Dirk a studio in the garage, with soundproofing, so Dirk could pay that guitar to his heart’s content and it wouldn’t bother everyone. Kenny was just a bit jealous, until Dirk convinced him to take up drums. My folks agreed and Zombies ‘R’ Us, version #1, was born.”

  “But there’s more than just the two of them?” Harve asked.

  “Now, yes,” Cindy said. “A couple of years later they talked Lee Patterson, who played bass in the school band, into joining them. They got so good, they were asked to play at school events and even some civic events—and they were paid real money. By the time they graduated, they all had pretty good college funds saved. They were all doing vocals at the time, but singing wasn’t really their thing, so when they got to college, they added Eddie Childs as lead vocalist. He plays guitar, too, so that was an added bonus. They’re very well-known in Portland—well, among the college crowd, anyway.”

  “Reed College?”

  “Well, mainly, because that’s where they went to school. The club where they’re playing is just down the street from the Reed campus. But kids from other colleges come, too. Word gets around when a band is good. And they are good, you’ll see. They even have a CD out. And when I was home last weekend, Kenny said they may be doing a new one soon. They write all their own material, you know. Dirk and Lee write the music—I think Dirk makes it up and Lee writes it down because Dirk doesn’t read music. Eddie writes most of the words, but Kenny does some.”

  “Wow!” Harve said. “I’m really starting to look forward to this. So is this all these guys do, or do they have day jobs, too.”

  “They have to have day jobs,” Cindy said. “As popular as they are, they aren’t getting rich at the Study Hall. Kenny’s a school teacher, teaches fifth grade. The kids all think he’s hot because he plays in a rock band. Lee teaches, too—music at a high school. He’s the only trained musician in the group. Eddie works in accounting.”

  “And Dirk?”

  “He kind of just does odd jobs here and there. He graduated from college, but just barely. I don’t think he has any ambition beyond his music. It’s too bad about Abby. She was really good when she sang with them.”

  “Yeah. Look, Cindy, don’t say anything to Dirk about Abby until I have a chance to talk to him, okay?”

  “Okay. I understand. He’s a suspect, right?”

  “I’m not sure, yet. But maybe. Abby did break up with him.”

  “She did?” This was news to Cindy.

  “She went into rehab a couple of weeks ago. She was turning her life around, getting off the drugs and booze.”

  “How sad,” Ron said. “To have someone’s life ended so tragically just as she was trying to start over.”

  “It really is,” Cindy agreed. “But, Sheriff, you’ve got your job cut out for you. How are you going to manage to work on three murders at a time?”

  “Well, that’s a big question. I’ve never even had to solve one murder before. But I think I’m going to enlist Fran’s help on this one. I’ll keep on with Agatha and Ruby, and she can work Abby’s.”

  “Who’s Fran?” Ron asked.

  “She’s the deputy in Pleasant View,” Cindy told him. “And she’s pretty intimidating. Get the murderer in front of her and she’d scare a confession out of him.”

  “That bad, huh?”

  Harve laughed. “She’s a good cop, and is really a pussycat down under that rough exterior. Her husband will verify that.”

  “Swede Nielsen,” Cindy told Ron. “He’s principal of the middle school.”

  “Swede?”

  “That’s not his real name,” Harve explained. “It’s really Sven, but everyone calls him Swede because he moved here from Sweden when he was a little boy. If indeed Swede was ever little. He’s even bigger than Fran. A huge bear of a man. But very likable.”

  Ron nodded. Just like Suds—that was hardly his real name either. Or Dinty Moore. Lots of people had nicknames that had very little to do with their real names. He wondered what Suds’ name really was. Or Dinty’s. Or had they gone by those names so long, nobody knew what their real names were?

  As they got into the city, Cindy gave directions and Harve was soon driving into the parking lot of the bar its owner had named The Study Hall.

  They still had fifteen minutes to wait before the first show, but the bar was already filling up and was very noisy. The bouncer at the door who was checking IDs (because it was a college hangout, two forms of ID were required) recognized Cindy and directed the trio to the band’s private table—after jokingly telling Harve he’d need to see his ID.

  “I’ll let Kenny know you’re here,” he said to Cindy, but she told him not to bother.

  “He’ll see us,” Cindy said.

  They had time to order their drinks before the band came out for their first set—beers for Harve and Ron, a coke for Cindy. Harve had decided he’d have one beer, after which he’d stick to cokes since he had to drive home. The owner joined them at their table and Cindy introduced him as Jason Cooke. Jason didn’t look any older than his college-aged patrons, and, in actuality, he wasn’t. He’d been friends with the guys in Zombies ‘R’Us all through college and had purchased the b
ar on his twenty-first birthday as a full-time venue for the band. In two years, he’d never had cause to regret it. The Study Hall was packed every night.

  The band came out to applause, whistles and yells. They bowed and Dirk looked out over the audience and saw Cindy. “Hey, folks, drummer Kenny’s big sister is in the house. Let’s give her a big round of applause. Come on, Cindy, stand up and take a bow. Look, folks, she has two guys with her. That brings new meaning to the term ‘double date,’ don’t you think?”

  The crowd laughed and Cindy blushed, but took her bow and waved to Kenny, who grinned and waved back.

  Dirk strummed a couple of chords and the band went into their first number. Harve looked over the group as he listened. Dirk had the ‘bad boy’ good looks that a lot of young women like. A craggy face, topped with a mop of sandy-colored hair, surfer-streaked with blond. He wore small hoops in both ears and a stud through one nostril, but that was it for piercing. Both arms, however, were covered in colorful tattoos. He had that glazed look of someone stoned on drugs, but Harve couldn’t help but wonder if it might be just for show. Surely someone as high as Dirk looked would not be able to play the guitar the way he did. The boy was good, no doubt about that. The other boys were fine, they did their jobs, but it was obvious they were there primarily to support Dirk.

  Cindy’s brother Kenny was a nice-looking boy, clean cut, dark auburn hair. Didn’t look a thing like Cindy, of course, since Cindy was adopted. Harve wondered if Kenny was also adopted, not that it mattered. Lee looked like your typical geek—tall, thin, dark-rimmed glasses, serious-looking. He looked more the accountant-type than Eddie, who would probably be a nice-enough looking kid if he ever outgrew his adolescent acne. Eddie had a pretty decent voice, though. Harve was enjoying listening to him. He wasn’t too old to like the occasional rock sound.

  When the hour was up, Cindy led Ron and Harve backstage and introduced them to the band. Kenny knew Cindy had a biological brother, but had not met Ron yet. The others were not aware that Cindy was even adopted. So some explanations had to take place. In introducing Harve, Cindy wisely did not mention his profession. She figured Harve would do so himself when the time was right.