by Elise Sax
“The mayor?” Silas asked me after I was done. His eyes were wide, and his mouth had dropped open.
“Yep. He’s in the sex club.”
“And he threatened you with a gun?”
I nodded. “Yep, if I rat him out, he’s going to kill me, and he has a pre-made alibi.”
“And he’s calling off the HPA if you stay quiet?”
“Yes.”
Silas whistled softly. “Holy cow. This is big. I don’t want you to get hurt though, boss.”
“I don’t want to get hurt, either. How do we do this so I don’t get hurt but justice gets done and the truth gets out?”
Silas thought about that a moment. “We’re going to sit on it for a little while until you work your magic, boss. The more information we have, the more power we’ll have.” He took a deep breath. “I’m going to have to get in on this, too. You can’t take on the powers that be by yourself. You know what this means?”
“No.”
“We need Jack,” Silas said, dead serious.
“I’m more scared of his mother than I am of the mayor’s gun.”
Silas rubbed his hand down his face. “We have to be smart. We need to use Boone and Amos against her.”
“I don’t get the impression that she listens to them. I get the impression she listens to herself.”
“She’s very self-assured,” Silas agreed.
I knocked on the door, and Boone answered.
“I need you.”
He smiled. “I know.”
He pulled me into his arms and kissed me. “Not for that,” I said, when I could breathe, again. “I need you and Amos to do something for me.”
“Me and Asshole?”
“Yes. I need you guys to work together.”
Boone arched an eyebrow. “But I don’t want to,” he whined.
Silas found out that Amos was out on a call to Bruce Jenkins’ house. Boone and I met him there, where he was ticketing the chickens.
“You can’t ticket my chickens!” Bruce yelled at him. “They’re chickens!”
“Believe me, I never thought I would ticket chickens,” Amos grumbled. “Frankly, you’re lucky I haven’t put your ass in jail for raising attack chickens.”
“Slander!” Bruce yelled.
Boone pulled up one of his pant legs. “I still have beak injuries, Bruce,” he said.
“That was your fault. Why were you skulking around on my property?” Bruce demanded. “Were you making a porno with your girlfriend?”
“I wish!” Boone yelled.
Oh, geez. Even Bruce had seen me naked. I was never going to live down my video.
I felt a sprinkle of water on my head, and I looked up to see if it was raining, but there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. I felt another sprinkle, and I turned around to find my two stalker exorcists.
“You can’t throw water on her. That’s assault,” Amos told them calmly while he continued to write up the chickens.
“But she’s possessed,” Father Nick insisted. “The demon has moved on from death to sex.”
“I wish,” Boone mumbled under his breath.
Amos handed the tickets to Bruce. “I don’t care if her head spins around, you can’t throw anything on her,” he told the exorcists.
The priest pocketed his little bottle of water to comply with the sheriff’s order.
“I’m not possessed,” I told them. “I just happen to find a lot of dead people.”
“She’s not the devil. She’s the angel of death,” Boone explained.
I shot him a look. “I don’t think you’re helping,” I said.
He shrugged. “It’s sort of true.”
“If you want to see something possessed, check out Bruce’s chickens,” Boone told the exorcists.
“Slander!” Bruce yelled.
Father Nick scratched his head and studied the chickens. “I heard about them. The fat one’s the general, right?”
“They’re organized like Napoleon’s army, and they attacked me,” Boone said and lifted his pant leg again to show the priest and the shaman his injuries.
“I hear they speak in tongues,” George said.
“Well…” I started to correct him, but Boone elbowed me in the side.
“Let them move on to the chickens,” he urged me, softly. “Anyway, I would bet money that the birds have got some kind of devil in them.”
Father Nick walked past me and started asking Bruce spiritual questions about his chickens.
George followed him, but stopped beside me. “Thank you for that video,” he said in passing. “I never knew a woman’s body could look like that. I feel like a much younger man. You probably added five years to my life.”
He winked at me and moved on to the chickens. Boone exhaled sharply.
“I’ve got to see that video,” he said. “The exorcists have seen you naked, and I haven’t. It’s like the universe is punking me.”
“Facebook deleted the video,” I said with more than a touch of relief. I didn’t want another human being to see the video, not even Boone. It was my greatest humiliation, and I would never live it down.
Boone shook his finger at Amos. “If you saw that video, I’m going to beat you to death.”
Amos smiled, like he was a cat who had just eaten a mouse, but he didn’t say a word.
“That’s it. I’m going to take my frustrations out on my brother. Wait here while I get my tire iron,” Boone said.
“No,” I said. “There’s no time to beat each other to death. I need you both to help me. It’s important. Where can we talk?”
Chapter 13
The three of us regrouped at Amos’s home. He owned a Dallas-style of ranch and house on a huge amount of land. Once inside his JR Ewing living room, Amos tossed his hat on a peg on the wall and plopped down on his couch.
The room had high ceilings with thick wood beams. I was once again surprised by the amount of pictures of his wife he had on display. Amos’s wife died a few years ago, and as far as I could tell, he was still madly in love with her and had never gotten over her death.
I glanced at the photos. Amos’s wife was a beautiful blonde, forever frozen in time with a smile on her face, ecstatically happy. I hated death, despite what people in Goodnight thought of me. I wasn’t the angel of death. I was the crusader against death. When faced with death, I tried to do everything to fight against it, by finding its perpetrator.
But there was no justice for Amos. His wife had died—no one knows how-- her body found in the forest. It was a senseless death that not only affected her but the man she left behind. I hoped he could get solace and let go of his grief at some point in his life.
I sat on the couch, and Boone sat on a chair. I gave the brothers an abridged rundown on Inga. I mentioned the sex club without naming names, her money without mentioning the mayor, and Shep. I explained that Silas was going to help me with the Inga story, and we were desperate for Jack’s help at the paper.
“I get the impression that she’s leaving something out,” Amos said to Boone.
“Matilda likes to reveal things in her own time. She likes that big Jessica Fletcher reveal at the end,” Boone said.
“If I had more to say, I would,” I lied. “Let’s focus on Jack. I need you to talk to his mother. Convince her to let him work at the Gazette.”
“What about his school?” Boone asked.
“Online school, work credits, we can work it out,” I said. “He’s determined, and we need him.”
“Or he can graduate early like I did,” Amos said. “The kid hates school, and he’s got the journalism bug. He might as well be allowed to go for his dreams. My asshole brother was out in the Basin digging for dinosaurs at Jack’s age.”
“Susan will never go for it,” Boone said.
“And I’m not going to ask her,” Amos said. “She scares the hell out of me.”
I turned to Boone. His head flopped forward in defeat. “Fine. I’ll talk to her. But let me get her drunk first.”
&
nbsp; The doorbell rang, and Amos went to the door.
“Amos Goodnight, I’m going to skin you alive!” I heard. The voice got louder as it came closer until Susan Goodnight appeared in the living room. It was like she had heard us somehow and had come to let us have it in a bad way. Boone sucked in air, and Amos looked like he was searching for a place to hide from his cousin. “All of the conspirators are here!” she shrieked. “Where’s my son? What have you done with him?”
“I haven’t seen him today. I promise,” I said.
“What about you two?” she bellowed at Boone and Amos. “You two have put all kinds of hogwash in my son’s head. Why else would he think he doesn’t need school? It’s your fault with your law enforcement bullshit and your dinosaur crap.”
“It’s not my fault!” Boone and Amos cried in unison.
Susan plopped down on a chair and put her head in her hands. “My son’s out of control. He wants to be Bob Woodward. Why can’t he be happy doing his chemistry lab homework?”
“Nobody’s happy doing chemistry lab homework,” Boone pointed out. “Jack’s pretty determined, Susan. Maybe it’s time to give in.”
“I was at the Academy at his age,” Amos said, taking a seat on the couch. “Boone was on his way to college. Goodnight men mature early.”
“Very funny,” Susan said.
“The asshole is right,” Boone said. “We didn’t do too badly, you know. Can’t Jack do correspondence classes? Isn’t everything online now?”
“You sound like Jack,” Susan said.
“The Gazette would love to have Jack,” I said meekly. “He’s a wonderful reporter. We can’t make the paper work without him.”
“That’s pretty pathetic that you’re dependent on a fifteen-year old,” she said. She was right. We were pretty pathetic.
“He’s extremely talented. We would be very lucky to have him,” I said and held my breath.
“Fine,” she said after a long moment of silence. “I’ll think about it.”
“Really? I didn’t see that coming,” Boone said.
“Are you sure? You want me to call a doctor? Maybe you got a fever,” Amos said to her.
“I’m tired of chasing Jack down and arguing with him,” Susan explained. “As long as he can graduate, I guess it’s all right. It’s better than being a meth addict, I suppose.”
“Better than a meth addict” wasn’t very high praise for the Fourth Estate, but I’d take it, as long as Jack could come back to the paper.
“That’s not the only reason why I came,” Susan said. She opened her purse and pulled out a cigar box. “I found this, Amos. It’s full of Amy’s things.”
Amos blanched visibly and looked over at a picture of his wife. The mood in the room changed suddenly. It was filled with Amos’s deep grief, a bottomless pit of misery. Just like that.
“I didn’t know I had it. She must have left it at my place the day she disappeared,” Susan said, her voice full of sympathy. She handed the box to Amos, and he took it like it was hot lava, sure to burn him to the bone.
“Thank you,” he croaked and excused himself, leaving the room with the box. We watched him go—probably to his bedroom—without saying a word.
“Is he going to be all right?” I asked Susan. “Should we go check on him?”
“Amos doesn’t like to share his grief,” she said. “He’ll want to be alone for a while.”
“Maybe for years,” Boone said.
We got up to leave in order to give Amos his privacy, and I took one last look at the photos of his wife. There was something familiar about her, but I couldn’t figure out what it was.
While Boone drove me back into town, I called Silas and told him that Susan would let Jack work, as long as he finished high school.
“We’ll need to hire a new paperboy in order to free up Jack,” Silas told me.
My heart sank. I would have to come up with more money, and that might mean going back to a diet of peanut butter sandwiches.
Silas told me he was going to track down Jack and then work on the mayor angle of the Inga story. I didn’t know what angle I was going to work on. I had come to a dead end in my investigation. I had a million suspects, but I wasn’t any closer to proving that any of them killed Inga.
“Lunch at the diner?” Boone suggested.
“Sure. I could go for a hamburger.”
“Good. That’ll count as another date. And you met more of my family so that really fast forwards the courting. Right?”
“Sure,” I said because I was sick and tired of courting and wanted to cut to the chase.
When we got to the diner, we had to wait for a seat because it was packed to the rafters.
“I’ll get you in as soon as I can,” Adele told us. “I haven’t seen it this busy since Nora got her food truck. Morris is about to blow a gasket.”
I could see the cook in the kitchen at the back of the diner, preparing meals at a breakneck pace. He looked like he was taking it in stride, but Adele lived in perpetual fear that Morris would quit and leave her to cook for half of the town every day.
We didn’t have to wait long, though. Jeb and his pals freed up a booth. Jeb’s friends ogled me as they walked to the door, but Jeb didn’t notice me because he was busy slipping some chewing tobacco between his cheek and gums.
“That stuff will kill you,” Boone warned Jeb when he reached us.
“I’m the oldest person in Goodnight. A little bit of tobacco ain’t gonna do anything to me,” Jeb told him and seemed to see me for the first time. “There’s other ways to get attention besides shaking your fanny on Facebook, girl.”
I could practically hear Boone grinding his molars down.
“That was an accident,” I told Jeb.
“Watch out for those accidents. You and your busybody ways are going to get you hurt. Like that Inga woman and that mine. I told her it was dangerous. Can’t just wander in there where it’ll fall on her head.”
“She didn’t die in the mine,” I told Jeb, but he was already walking out the door.
Adele sat Boone and me in the booth. “That gives me an idea,” I told Boone.
“What gives you an idea?”
“The mine. Maybe it wasn’t just coal that Inga liked about that mine.”
“What do you mean?” Boone asked. “She liked a cool, dark place?”
“No, I mean maybe there was something else in there, like gold. Something that would make her stop blackmailing the mayor. Maybe it wasn’t the magic of the mine that made her happy. Maybe it was something more physical.”
Boone’s face dropped. “Why do I have the feeling that I’m going to be spending the afternoon in a coal mine?” he asked.
“We can call it another date, if you want.”
“Why can’t we date in normal places? Places where I won’t get buried alive?”
“It won’t be dangerous,” I said. “The mine hasn’t collapsed since the forties.”
“Matilda, they closed the mine in the forties.”
“See? It hasn’t collapsed in forever.”
Boone drove us to the coal mine. He was unusually quiet during the ride. “What’re you thinking about?” I asked.
“I was betting with myself about what bone I was going to break today. Then, my mind shifted to the possible sleeping mine monsters that we’re going to wake, who will eat my face while you run to safety.”
“That’s dark,” I commented. “I’m sensing anxiety from you. Is there something about this mine that scares you?”
“I might be slightly claustrophobic,” he confessed.
I put my hand on his thigh. “Don’t worry. I’ll hold your hand. And if sleeping mine monsters try to eat your face, I’ll throw myself in front of you so you can run away.”
“And then I’ll never see you naked? No way. I’d rather have my face eaten.”
The coal mine was out in the middle of nowhere. There wasn’t a sign of life except for snakes and other creepy crawlies for as far as
the eye could see. An old gravel road led to the mine, but it was cracked and studded with potholes from the sun, time, and neglect. Boone parked near the entrance of the mine.
We got out of the truck, and I lifted my blouse and bra and flashed Boone.
“Holy shit!” he cried, staring at my chest.
“There. Now you’ve seen my boobs,” I said, putting my breasts back into my bra. “We’re halfway there, and now you don’t have to feel left out anymore.”
Boone slipped a finger in my waistband and pulled me close to him. “Thank you. A million times thank you,” he said and kissed me.
After so many Boone kisses, I would have thought I’d be immune, but just like with every other kiss, my head swam in a dizzy pool of hormones. My core tightened between my legs, and it was all I could do not to wrap my legs around him.
“When we finally do this thing, they’re going to detect it on the Richter scale,” Boone said, breaking the kiss.
I had no doubt he was right. The earth was definitely going to move.
Boone retrieved two flashlights from the toolbox in the back of his truck, and we walked into the mine, past signs warning us not to walk into it. The mine had a low ceiling and was cut out into smooth, square walls.
And it was dark and black.
“No mine monsters, yet,” I said. “This isn’t too bad, right?”
“That’s what the character says in the horror movie right before the mine collapses and a mine monster eats her face,” Boone warned.
“I’m not seeing any evidence of a collapse,” I said as we kept walking.
“It’s probably further down in the bowels of hell,” Boone said, shining the light on the walls ahead of us.
We walked for another five minutes when I heard something. “What did you say?” I asked Boone.
“Nothing. Why? What did you hear?”
“It must have been my imagination. Let’s keep going. I wonder where in the mine Inga got her coal.”
“Does it matter? It’s all the same,” Boone grumbled.
He was right. I wasn’t seeing the magical place that Shep had described. I couldn’t imagine how the mine could inspire an artist. It was a dark forbidding place, but not malevolent. Not ugly and not beautiful, either. It was almost boring. It was just a dug-up square tunnel that had been abandoned years ago.