by VC Angell
“I saw her right after you told me it was murder. Sally told me that it was to protect her,” Jim said.
“That piece of information isn’t going to become public until we find the killer. If it had been an angry divorce, she would be a prime suspect.”
“Where does that leave us?” Jim asked.
“We need to find the key evidence that’s missing. What’s the motive? Everybody agrees with you that the redevelopment committee members all had legitimate reasons for seeing Alma redeveloped. That just wasn’t enough of a reason to have your brother killed.”
“That makes sense. Alex knew something we don’t know.”
“The investigators said there had to be a strong motive like jealousy or greed.”
“I wish I had been closer to my brother in these past few years. He might’ve told me something that would help. I don’t think I know enough about the town to be able to help much,” Jim said.
“I thought we could rule out jealousy. Your brother was a straight shooter. The so-called divorce was the only thing out of character for him. Can you think of anything else?” The sheriff asked.
“He had a little digital recorder. I thought there might be something on it. I have printed out everything from the five memory things he had for it. They were mostly interviews he’d done, and they’d all been published in the paper. There was nothing spectacular in them,” Jim said.
“I read every one of them. I knew many of the people he interviewed, and there wasn’t anything remarkable about any of them. I always thought he did them as a public service so that people would know the movers and shakers of Alma.”
“He even did you,” Jim said.
“I guess I wasn’t interesting because the interview he printed with me was shorter than the rest,” the sheriff laughed.
“I saw the transcription of that interview. It was shorter, but I think that’s because there’s so little crime in Alma. It’s a good reflection on you.”
Jim could tell by the sheriff’s voice there was humor in his answer, “I hope there’s little crime because I’m so efficient at my job!”
Jim laughed. “It could be there are more trees than people here.”
The sheriff laughed and said, “That could be a major reason too, but we have a real problem. Someone has gotten away with murder. I am at a loss to know what more I can do.”
“Me too.”
* * *
When Julie appeared in Jim’s office door several days later, “Have, you got a minute?”
“Sure, come on in.”
“Do you mind if I close the door? I wouldn’t want anybody to overhear me.”
It was a strange request from Julie, but Jim said, “I have no problem with that. Come in, sit down, and we’ll talk.”
Julie came in and sat down and at first folded her hands in her lap. Finally, she said, “I’m so damn mad I could spit. I interviewed Laura Peterson. If that bastard were still alive, I’d kick him in the balls. What he did to both Laura and her sister is disgusting.”
“It is. There’s no question about that. I grew up with Laura. I didn’t know what was happening. I even dated her in high school, and I didn’t know what was going on even then,” Jim said.
“That bastard ruined her life. I couldn’t believe her language when she described what happened. She even used the F-word like it was nothing. When she told me about her sister, she used the word tits. She has no sense of what’s right and wrong because of what was done to her.”
“What else happened in the interview?”
“She was proud when she told me that her father told her she was good at – the damn F-word. How could she not know it was very wrong?” Julie asked.
“She has a sense of morality.”
“How can you say that? I mean the way she talked…what her father did to her and her sister.” Julie seemed ready to explode.
“I told you even before the interview that Laura and I had dated in high school. I still consider her a friend. She doesn’t want to be seen with me because she called herself ‘the town whore’ and felt to be seen with her would hurt my reputation. I want to help her, but I don’t know how to. She is refusing all my requests to be seen with me. It’s all screwed up. I want to help her. Can you think of anything?” Jim asked, shaking his head.
Julie seemed to calm down and be deep in thought before saying, “I don’t have an answer for you. To help her, you’d have to be able to work with her. You would have to be seen together. I think I can even see how she has a sense of morality, not wanting to hurt your reputation. I wonder if she doesn’t feel her reputation couldn’t get any worse.”
“Perhaps, I want to help her because she told me something that she learned while in jail for prostitution. Laura got to see a psychologist or psychiatrist and found out that she was severely dyslexic. I asked Laura how she got through school, and she told me all the little tricks she had learned. She’s got some brains,” Jim said.
“Some people get all the bad luck in the world, and she got a double dose.”
“I know from reporting on crime scenes, some of the people never made it through school because of dyslexia. I know there are ways of helping people deal with it these days. There has to be a way to help her.”
“Yes, I remember even if doing a piece on our high school and dyslexia was mentioned in passing,” Julie said.
“How about it, can I use you?”
Julie looked puzzled. Jim quickly added, “Bad wording. I can use your help. Laura opened up to you. Maybe together, we can figure out a way to help her. Now she thinks she is only good at one thing.”
“I still hate that crazy bastard. I know I’m supposed to be a Christian and forgive, but he’s beyond forgiving.”
“I understand that dyslexia often runs in families. He may have had dyslexia too. I know he didn’t make it through high school and quit when he was sixteen. Laura and I talked about it one night when we were dating.”
Julie said firmly, “That did not give him permission to abuse his daughters.”
“I agree. Her father should’ve known better. Maybe he couldn’t learn because he had dyslexia.”
Julie looked at Jim and then slowly smiled, “I’m glad you’re my boss. You are kind and gentle and want to look out for those less fortunate. Do you think if we could get help for Laura and her dyslexia, she might change her occupation?”
“I don’t know. I honestly don’t know. It breaks my heart to see how Laura is now.”
* * *
Jim had accepted the offer to join the redevelopment committee. The meetings quickly began to drive him crazy. They did a lot of talking but very little doing. Jim decided the killer couldn’t be on the redevelopment committee because no one on the committee ever actually did anything. He had hoped the committee could bring new business and improve the chances of the Journal surviving.
With Carol seemingly a lost cause, Jim spent more and more time with Pam. One evening while they were still together, Jim traced the outline of her nipple with his index finger and asked, “How do we plan for the future? What we have is good, but we both know anything more would be a disaster.”
“I don’t. I trust you because you’ve never used the M-word with me,” Pam said.
Jim was slightly puzzled and asked, “M-word?”
“Marriage. When I was a little girl, I thought I’d get married and live happily ever after. It didn’t work that way.”
“Maybe I am a little strange, but I didn’t think much about marriage growing up. I figured it would just happen.”
“That’s because you are a man. Little girls dream of a knight in shining armor sweeping them off their feet and living happily ever after. I never thought about the practicalities. Even what we’ve just done. Sex is fun. I needed it, but there’s a whole thing about cleaning up afterward I never dreamed of. I love moments like this when we can be together and relaxed, but all too soon, practicality raises its ugly head. It would be great to just go to sle
ep now. But all the… I don’t know what to call them. Love juices, maybe? Then there’s the whole thing of your lover dribbling down your leg for the next hour,” Pam said.
“Let’s just enjoy these few moments and forget the practical side of things.”
Pam smiled, “I agree.”
* * *
One morning Jim heard someone say, “Knock, knock, anybody home?”
Jim looked up to see who it was and instantly recognized his old friend, Levi Eaglefeather. “Don’t just stand there but come on in.” Jim got up and met his old friend with a manly embrace.
“I heard you were back in town,” Levi said.
“It happened because my brother was killed. I always knew there was a chance I would have to come back and run the Journal. What are you doing these days?”
“I spent most of my time at the Rosebud Reservation. I went back to my people. I remember how you used to tease me about being a Sioux living with the enemy, the Chippewa.”
“I think you realized that was all in good fun.”
“Yes, and I didn’t take it any other way. It did a good thing for me because I had never thought of my history. I searched for my birth parents and found my mother was still alive, living on the Rosebud Reservation. My father died of cancer before I found her, so I only have her stories about him.”
“How about your adopted parents?”
“That’s one of the reasons I’m here. My adopted father has been ill with a heart problem. I drove up from the Rez last week to see him. I was reading the paper and saw that you were back in town. I thought I’d stop and see you.”
“My brother was murdered. Oh, they made it look like a hunting accident, but he never hunted a day in his life. I’m still learning to run the Journal. I better be doing a good job, or there will be no Journal.”
“The murder must’ve been tough on you.”
“It was at first. Now, I’m just mad. Sally, his wife, has had the roughest even though they were divorced,” Jim said.
“Did they have any kids?”
“Yes, but he was more than twenty years my senior. His children are all older and long since gone their ways.”
“I guess that’s good. The kids got to know their father, and I didn’t.”
Jim wanted to turn the conversation away from their parents and asked, “How about you? Are you married?”
“Yes, I married a girl from the Red Lake Reservation. She was a couple of years behind us in high school. We have been trying to have kids, but there’s no luck there. How about you? Married?” Levi asked.
“No, I guess I just haven’t met the right person.”
“You will. I met my wife at a powwow in Nebraska. Can you figure that one out? We had grown up just a few miles apart and never met. She had even gone to our school and not the one on the Rez.” Levi said.
They continued to chat, and Levi told Jim that his wife was a granddaughter of one of the hereditary chiefs on Red Lake. She had come back with Levi to visit her family too. It was lunchtime. Jim and Levi went together for lunch at the Country Kettle.
Over lunch, Jim told Levi about working in newspapers both here in the states and Europe. Jim asked, “What have you been doing?”
“I’ve been trying to learn more about my heritage. Don’t get me wrong. My adopted parents have always been good to me and still are. They had no way of knowing anything about my culture, particularly sacred things. I’m discovering the sacred side of my heritage. I have been thinking about the Sun Dance for next summer.”
“Wasn’t that outlawed? I thought you told me that.”
“Yes, the federal government forbid it in 1883, but it was allowed again in the 1930s.”
Levi continued to tell Jim about his learning of his sacred past.
* * *
Ralph Hansen talked with another businessman about the redevelopment committee, “Jim Waterman seems quite different from his brother. He’s been seen with Laura Peterson, and you know what she is. He and Pam Erickson have a thing going. He doesn’t appear to be the strait-laced no-nonsense person that Alex was. I talked to him about his brother’s editorial and his brother’s death. He’s just confused. I know we have to keep him that way. I agree it’s best not to be seen together. We have to keep it secret.”
Chapter 8
One morning Jim found a note on his desk from Tinker. It read, “I remembered that Alex had bought six of those SD cards. I only remember seeing five, including the one in the recorder. You might want to look around for the other one. On the other hand, it just might have gone south, and he threw it away.”
Jim pulled out the drawer with the SD cards and other things in it. He looked carefully through the contents of the drawer, and there were only four SD carts and one in the recorder. Tinker was correct. There was one missing. Jim wondered if it might be the one with the information he was looking for. The desk had only one shallow drawer with just pens and pencils and two larger drawers. Jim went through the contents of all of the drawers again and didn’t find the missing SD card. He was stumped. He abandoned his search and went back to work on the editorial he was writing.
It was in February, and the Valentine’s Day dance was coming up. He didn’t have to speak at this one, but Pam thought they shouldn’t go together. Jim knew that Laura wouldn’t go with him for fear she’d hurt his reputation. He thought about Carol but dismissed the thought because she had made it clear she wasn’t interested in him.
Julie did an excellent article on the Valentine’s Day dance. She asked Jim why he hadn’t attended. He told her that he didn’t have anyone to go with. Julie just shook her head and didn’t say anything more.
Jim had given up trying to find the missing SD card. He had even asked Sally if Jim kept anything at home. He had searched the office again from top to bottom. Jim was sure it was hidden someplace in the office if it existed.
Things at the newspaper settled into a comfortable routine. Unfortunately, the Journal continued its slow decline. One day in late March, Jim headed for the Country Kettle. As he drove up, he spotted Carol’s car. If he went in to eat, Carol would be sure to see him. She might find it difficult not to greet him, so Jim pulled out of the parking lot and visited his favorite fast-food place for lunch. It happened again the next day and the next until Jim decided lunch would always be fast food. He wouldn’t intrude on Carol’s lunch hour. The Country Kettle thus became a place not to eat lunch.
* * *
At the beginning of April one evening, Jim arrived home to find Pam waiting for him. Jim asked her, “Have you eaten yet?”
“No, I had some soup and a sandwich late in the day. I’m not hungry.”
“Would you mind if I eat?”
“No, and particularly not if it’s something I don’t like to eat,” Pam teased.
“I think I know what it would be, Lutefisk. We are what I think a married couple would be like. We can tell each other what we like and what we don’t like. We respect each other,” Jim smiled.
“My experience with marriage wasn’t like that. My ex would tell me to take my clothes off and spread my legs. That’s not respect. It’s different with you. I can tell you care about me.”
“Why wouldn’t I care about you?”
Pam, who had gotten up to greet Jim, sat back down in the recliner. “You are beginning to sound like a little girl’s dream of a knight in shining armor.”
“I don’t know what it’s like to be married or to be in love. I’m growing more confused. What’s the difference between caring for someone and loving them?”
Pam sat and thought and finally said, “I’m not sure either, but I always thought there was something more to love than great sex. Something you’d feel in here,” Pam touched her heart.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been in love. I can feel the tug of the desire for sex, but shouldn’t it be more than that?”
“I think it starts with that. That’s what started my first marriage, but my ex treated me so differently aft
er we were married. Before, he’d hold open the doors for me and make sure I was comfortable and do all sorts of nice things, but as soon as we got married, it was slam bam thank you ma’am time. We even stopped talking. I know that it wasn’t love.”
Jim thought in silence before saying, “This is too confusing. We should just enjoy what we have now. If you figure out love, please let me know.”
“You do the same.”
Jim offered his hand to help her out of the chair. She took his hand, and the effect was instantaneous. It was erotic.
* * *
Jim’s world settled into the routine with just one nagging thought other than his brother’s murder, how to keep the Journal going. The spring was proving to be exceptionally warm. Jim’s thoughts turned to gardening. Even at the end of April, it was not time yet to plant anything. He had grown up hearing the saying, “Don’t plant before Memorial Day.” The Johnson’s had had a good-sized garden patch. There was still some debris from last summer’s garden that needed cleaning up. He remembered the Johnson’s mentioning they had had a good crop of potatoes and had given them away because they were moving. It was a Saturday afternoon, and Jim looked at the garden empty of anything green when an older car pulled into the driveway.
Laura got out of the car and waved to him.
Jim motioned for her to join him in the garden. When she got there, Jim hugged her and was surprised at the warmth of her return hug. She said, “I saw you out here, and I thought I’d stop and say hello. You don’t have any neighbors close enough to see us. What are you doing?”
“I was looking at this garden space the Johnson’s had. I’m trying to decide what to do with it. Things are doing well enough at the Journal to give me a little time for some gardening, but this space is much too big for me.”
“I don’t know about that. We always had a big garden when I was growing up. If you put in some taters and corn, you’d have just enough room for things like beans and tomatoes and such. I kinda miss working in the garden. My apartment doesn’t come with gardening space.”