Kicked the Bucket

by CeeCee James

  The truck rolled to a stop, and a tall thin man climbed out. He headed to the back of his tailgate and popped it, revealing a couple bales of alfalfa and some bagged food, along with an old tool box. There was also a large crate.

  “Scotty,” Tilly said, dryly.

  He had his head ducked when we approached, so I wasn’t expecting the confident smile he finally gave us. “Evening, ladies.”

  “Long time, no hear.” Tilly delivered the line with a smirk. Her arms were now crossed in front of her, and I could tell she wanted to see him squirm.

  I had no idea what was going on but my arms crossed too. I was there as back up, ready to jump in if needed.

  “Yeah. I know. Sorry about that. I lost your number and—”

  Whoa! Was that what this was about? Did this guy ghost Tilly?

  She interrupted with a snort and an eyeball roll that rivaled any teenager’s.

  His eyes widened at the sound, and he cleared his throat. It was a standoff, with us girls silently daring him to continue his line of BS. I thought he’d cave under the eyeball glares and slink back to his truck with his tail between his legs. Instead, he dug the toe of his cowboy boot into the dirt and looped his thumbs through the belt loops of his jeans. “Listen, I’m here to drop off this feed and to pick up some boxes.”

  “They’re inside,” Tilly said.

  He unloaded a bale of hay and two bags with a grunt. I was about to get the wheelbarrow to haul them to the barn when he started again. “As long as I’m here I need to talk to you guys.”

  “Oh? What’s going on?” Tilly asked.

  “I wanted to make sure you all were okay, especially after what happened.”

  “We’re fine, Scotty. Thanks for asking.”

  He didn’t make a move to leave. Instead, that toe of his dug into the dirt deeper. “Yeah, well, I feel kind of guilty.”

  “Why is that?”

  “I was on the back road this morning. I could see the pond. There was a ruckus going on there, like you were roughhousing in the water.”

  “Oh my goodness. Did you talk to the police?”

  “Yeah, I did. I was really curious who you had down by the water. Now I think that was a gut feeling. I should have stopped and checked for myself.”

  “Hey! I think I saw you!” I exclaimed.

  He glanced at me startled. For some reason it looked like he didn’t want to hear that.

  “Have you talked with the police?” Tilly asked.

  “Yeah. An Officer Nelson? I did it on my way over here. I’m just grateful it wasn’t that partner of his. That guy’s nearly ready to retire, am I right? Maybe past time?”

  That got a chuckle out of me.

  “So.” He glanced around. “I’m supposed to pick up some boxes as well?”

  “Yeah, just right up here.” Tilly led him to the porch where she disappeared inside. She soon returned with a box. The handoff was a little awkward as she gave it to him, and I swear their eyes caught with some silent conversation, but she covered it by quickly going back inside for the rest. This time when she returned, she set the box on the porch rather than handing it over.

  When he’d loaded the last one, he pulled out a pad from the cab. Licking his thumb, he then flipped it open and grabbed a pen. He scribbled something, then tore it off and handed it to her. “Your receipt, madam.”

  “Oh, it’s madam now?”

  He grinned and shyly looked at the ground. We stood there for a moment, with me wondering who was going to break the silence. Finally, he tipped his cap up and smiled again. “I’m going to head out now. Give me a call if I can do anything else.”

  “You’re planning to return the phone call?” She raised an eyebrow.

  I was surprised to see a flush creep up from under his shirt collar. “About that, I had some crazy things happen around then. For one, I got a new roommate.”

  I decided to make myself scarce. “I just need to go return a work email,” I said, jerking my thumb toward the house.

  It was as if my impending departure broke them from their stand off because Scotty walked to the cab of his truck, and Tilly followed me. She didn’t look happy.

  Jasper jumped on her as soon as she came in. She pushed him down and patted his head.

  “You relieved your stuff is gone?” I asked.

  “Yeah. I guess so.” She glanced around but her eyes seemed unfocused. Preoccupied.

  “A fresh start,” I prompted.

  “Yep.”

  “All right, Tilly. What the heck is going on? What’s wrong with you?”

  “Wrong with me? Scotty is what’s wrong with me. He’s one bad apple.”

  Chapter 7

  Tilly definitely wasn’t being forthcoming about Scotty. I waited for her to elaborate. Instead, she picked up a pile of mail sitting on the hallway table with a frown. “Darn insurance bill. I’ll deal with it later.” She tossed the envelope into a pile and stared at the next in her hand. After reading it, she gave a heavy sigh.

  “What’s the matter? Another bill?”

  “A wedding invitation. You remember my friend Rebecca?”

  I nodded.

  “You ever worry all the good guys are gone? And those that are left are like the toys found at the bottom of a toy box. Mismatched and broken.”

  I pondered that for a moment. I couldn’t even imagine getting married. I mean, the work involved, the commitment… I could barely take care of a potted plant.

  “Not really.” I shrugged.

  “Seriously?” Her forehead rumpled with doubt. “You’ve never thought about who you want to share your life with? Made a list?”

  I smirked. “A boyfriend list?”

  “Yeah. You know. Funny, handsome.” She pointed the invitation at me. “Has a job.”

  “Please. I have standards.”

  “You know, Jason Frank, Emma’s teacher, was asking about you the other day. What do you think about him?”

  Immediately, I was suspicious. “When did you talk to him?”

  “At a parent/teacher conference. He wanted to talk to me about Emma dipping her pigtails in blue paint and using it as a paint brush in art class. When he tried to stop her, she claimed he was squelching her artistic expression.” She gave an impish smile, looking exactly like her daughter.

  I narrowed my eyes. “And how exactly did my name get brought up?”

  “Don’t look at me that way. I didn’t bring it up. He did.” She went back to shuffling through the mail. I noticed the “I’ll deal with it later” pile was growing like a mud slide. In fact, it had started to slither right off the table.

  She caught it and kept talking. “Anyway, he asked if I still had my roommate with the blue eyes staying with me.” She lifted an eyebrow. “Must have made quite the impression.”

  I rolled said blue eyes, but I had to admit, I was intrigued he’d noticed them. And remembered. “Did he say anything else?”

  “No. By the way, did you get a chance to say goodbye to the piglets? They’ll be gone by the morning.”

  “Tilly?”

  “What?”

  “What else did you say to him?”

  She laughed. “Fine. I may have mentioned that you might be alone this week. And that you couldn’t cook and might like company for dinner.”

  “You set me up?”

  She shrugged.

  “Anything else I should know?”

  “Just that he should give you a break because you hadn’t been on a date in a long time.”

  “Tilly!” I shrieked.

  “What? I’m trying to help you?”

  “Help me? Help yourself! He’s going to be throwing me a pity date.”

  “No. He really lit up when I said that. He definitely likes you.”

  I groaned and covered my face.

  “You mad at me?”

  “I guess not. Let’s get back to the delivery guy. What was that all about?” I grinned. Finally I had the upper hand.

  She rolled her eyes.
“That was my mistake a couple of months ago.”

  “Wait, what? You dated the hay man?”

  “Scotty, and yes I did.”

  “So what happened?”

  “Our last date we met up in the woods. I followed him up to this trail where there was this old mine. Abandoned years ago, maybe before we were even born. It was cool, but also a little spooky if you know what I mean. He gets me in there and tells me its completely safe. To prove it, he starts pointing to some garbage. You know the kind teenagers leave. Beer bottles and some empty chip bags. There was a bonfire ring about twenty feet from the entrance. So I trust him, and we go in.

  Well, we get another thirty feet, and I see something I recognize. It’s his work hat, emblazoned with the delivery company’s logo. Along with a lacy bra. He acted surprised when he saw it and swore it wasn’t him who’d left it. Swore it. But how could it not have been? I ran out of there, got in my car. He followed me and asked me to stop. When I didn’t, he said he’d let me cool down, and he’d call me.” She picked at her cuticle. “I did cool down. I mean, maybe there really was an explanation. But he never did try to get hold of me again.”

  I felt sick. He’d cheated on her. “What a creep.”

  “Yeah. I guess. He gave me his excuse a minute ago. Said he never called me back was because of his new roommate or life became crazy or something. Like I said, it’s like all the available guys left have problems. And it doesn’t help that working with models makes me feel as old as the hills. Coupled with the fact that I’ve had a kid, and I’m practically the female version of methuselah.”

  I snorted. “Are you serious?’

  “Dead serious. It’s one of the bizarre things about being the one behind the camera. All of these young people filled with hopes and dreams that I take pictures of. Sometimes it’s more than I can take.”

  She looked at the pile of mail in her hand. “Hey, here’s a letter for you.”

  It was in a small envelope and so thin it could have been empty. I searched for the return address and saw none. “That’s peculiar.”

  “Very. Oh, here come the kids to get the piglets.” She looked out the window at a truck driving in.

  “Need help?”

  She shook her head. “This will be fast, and then I’ll need to get back to packing. I’ll be gone before you wake up in the morning.”

  “All right. Have a safe flight, and message me when you get there.” I took the letter into the kitchen to grab an apple and headed upstairs. As I walked, I polished the apple against my shirt front and studied the envelope. Who could it be from? The stamp mark said Franklin, a town about an hour from us. It was addressed to C/O Chelsea Lawson. Weird way to address a letter. I bit into the apple with a crunch and opened it.

  Dear Nikki Campbell,

  My mouth dropped. What in the world? I searched the envelop again. Just the strange name line all written in sterile computer script. I flipped back to the letter and read it.

  Wanting to confirm the petition has been filed for the restraining order. We’ll be hearing the result soon.

  Stanley Bergen, Attorney at Law

  I scanned it one more time. I couldn’t believe I was holding it. And on the same day that her boyfriend had been murdered on our property. What was she involved in. More importantly, what was she involving me in?

  I immediately called the number listed under the attorney’s address, gnawing on my thumbnail as it rang.

  After five rings, it was answered by a bored female voice, “Bergen’s law office, how may I direct your call?” She dropped the words like I’d woken her from a nap and she was ready to get back to it. Based on her tone, a vivid picture blossomed in my mind. Someone in her mid-fifties, legs swollen, and wanting to get home to shuck off her too tight shoes.

  “Hi there, I just received a letter from your office.”

  “What’s this pertaining to?” She could be a metronome.

  “Well, the problem is that what’s inside the letter isn’t addressed to me.”

  “What?” The voice flared with interest. “Did you read it?” Now it held a slight accusatory quality.

  “Yes. It was addressed to my sister and…”

  “Please don’t read any more,” the woman warned.

  “Well, the problem is, I’m not sure why it even came here? How did you get my address? And the contents are quite disturbing, something about seeking a restraining order?”

  “Who was this letter sent to?”

  I gave her Nikki’s name, as well as my own. In the background, I heard furious typing and then a gust of relief. “I’m not sure what to say. That’s the address we have listed for her. Are you sure she doesn’t live there?”

  A sarcastic laugh escaped me. “I think I would know. She absolutely does not.”

  “I’ll give her a call and get a new address.”

  My antennas perked up. “Can you please give her a message when you speak to her? Tell her that Chelsea is trying to reach her.”

  “I’ll do my best,” was the woman’s quick response, and then she clicked off.

  I couldn’t believe she hung up on me. Irritating. I was steaming as I scrolled through the last few messages I’d left for William. I gave him another call. Like last time, it went straight to voice mail.

  I had to find a way to get hold of him. Maybe this letter was the kick in the butt I needed. Mom had mentioned his work. What was that name again? I started a search for Grant’s Construction.

  “Grant’s Construction. How may I direct your call?”

  “Hi, uh, actually I was calling about one of your employees.”

  “And who is that?”

  “William Campbell.”

  “One moment please.”

  I smiled even as some awful muzak poured through the phone. Detective Chelz tracks her man down.

  A second later the phone was answered by the same woman. “We do have a foreman by that name.”

  I paused. “Can I leave a message for him?”

  “He hasn’t shown up for work for the last week. I was actually hoping you could reach him for us.”

  My spirits sank. “I guess we’re both out of luck.”

  “William as well. Because he just lost his job.” With that, she hung up the phone.

  Two in a row. Was three times the lucky charm?

  Chapter 8

  That night I went to bed and had some dreadful nightmares. Waking and falling asleep over and over. Then it happened again. Sleep walking. This time I woke up as my hand brushed the bathroom door. It was better this time. Because, although the floor was cold under my feet and my heart pounded like I’d just been running, this time I hadn’t woken up outside like I had that one night.

  Still, I felt woozy from the adrenaline as the flickers of the nightmare faded away. All I remembered was a fire and trying to escape the hot flames.

  I rubbed my neck and breathed. I’m here. I’m okay.

  Slowly, I returned to my bedroom. Ash-colored light filtered through the crack where the curtains weren’t quite pulled close. It was still early, too early. I grabbed my phone from the top of the dresser and climbed back into the bed. There was a text already waiting for me from Tilly, telling me she’d made it to the airport.

  One thing was for sure, there was no way I was going to be able to fall asleep again. I fluffed the pillows and leaned back and started to scroll on the phone.

  Still no message from Nikki. What the heck happened to her? Her boyfriend had been murdered here, and now a letter talking about a restraining order. Did she even know about Corey? What if she’d been hurt? Should I be calling hospitals?

  I clicked on social media and searched out Corey Brickstone’s name. Several choices popped up, none of them with a profile picture. Even worse, all of them had the profile set to private. I bit the edge of my thumbnail, working at a hangnail. Why had he come to my house? He must have wanted to tell me something. I remember William saying her boyfriend was really jealous. What had happened?


  I typed in Nikki Campbell. I’d done this before so I wasn’t sure if I could learn anything new this time. Her picture wasn’t great, filtered with one of those crazy filters that added freckles and fawn ears. I still stared at it with the same intensity that I’d studied it so many times in the past. As always, her eyes grabbed me. Filter or not, they looked sad.

  I did note that there was nothing under her relationship status which seemed odd since most people added their significant other.

  Very interesting. I clicked on her friends list, of which she had almost three thousand. How did anyone have that many friends? It struck me as ironic that I—her sister—wasn’t one of them.

  Absentmindedly, I scanned the list. There were so many that all the names and faces began blending into one another. My eyelids felt heavy. Maybe I was ready to try to sleep again.

  Then a thought struck me. I typed in Corey’s name under her list.

  Gotcha! He popped up as one of her friends. There was a profile picture, however it was not of a person, but of a mountain. I excitedly clicked it.

  My enthusiasm quickly drained away when I discovered his profile was locked tight. There were no friends to show, no posts or pictures. I was about to give up when I clicked on his interests.

  That page was nearly blank as well. However, there was one thing he’d liked.

  A restaurant.

  It was called the Rusty Rooster and it was in Franklin. That made sense, that’s where Nikki lived. I clicked the restaurant’s link and a brightly colored home page popped up.

  The restaurant had a cover picture of a wheel and a rooster and had a homey feel. They boasted of great barbecue and beer on tap. I took a screenshot of the address and phone number and then went back to his profile but there was nothing more to learn.

  All the questions swirled in my head. I clicked off the phone and dropped it on the side table and then scrunched back down in the bed. The light through the window was brighter. As I looked, the first sliver of sunshine shot through and landed on the wall on the other side of the room.

  Rosy mooed. Loud and soulful, and telling me to hurry.

  I groaned and tugged the blankets over my head. Maybe with one or two more minutes, she would settle back down.