The Silver Lake Murder

by Gregg Matthews

  “What’s this symbol, Tracy?”

  “A mistake.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s a Jackal. It has to do with the bar I work at.”

  “The Lakeview Lounge?”

  “Yes, the Lakeview Lounge. I want you to tattoo over it next time I come in.”

  “OK, Tracy. You must have known Cindy Flynn, right?”

  “Cindy was my friend.”

  “Tracy, what can you tell me about the Lakeview Lounge?”

  “I don’t know much, but there is a guy Lester he is the maintenance man at the Lakeview Lounge he fixes everything. He knows a lot about the Lakeview Lounge and Luke’s businesses. Ask him about The Devil’s Den on the top floor,” Tracy says.

  “The Devils Den, I will. Thanks!”

  Watching as Tracy stands up and takes off her T-shirt. She is showing a toned body, green bra, with light white skin. The green bra holds in her round, shapely flesh. She has long curly brown hair with light blue eyes. She has a long face. She is tall, five feet ten inches tall. He breathes in her perfume which seems to enhance her looks to him. She lies down on her stomach on top of the black leather reupholstered massage table. He remembers what he was doing and prepares to put the tattoo on her shoulder blade.

  The snapping sound of rubber gloves and new needles being opened lets the customer know he runs a clean, sanitary tattoo shop. He lays the stencil on her shoulder blade. She stands up and looks at the tattoo outline in the mirror on the wall. She is happy with the

  placement and overall look. She lies down on her stomach again and is ready for her new tattoo. The buzzing noise of the tattoo needle begins. He dips the needle into the black ink and starts the outline of the memorial tattoo on her shoulder blade.

  Some time passes, about one hour, and he can see Tracy is having trouble sitting still. Her feet are moving, and she is shrugging her shoulders. She is trying to look behind her. He can tell she has had enough for one day. The tattoo is complete.

  “Finished, Tracy,” Blake says.

  “Thank God,” Tracy says, giggling a little.

  Starting the process of shutting the workstation down, he shows Tracy her new tattoo in a hand mirror and begins covering it up with a bandage before helping her get her T-shirt back on. He looks her in the eyes and can tell she is going to tell him something. He waits patiently for what she is about to say.

  “The last time I saw Cindy alive was Saturday night, July 4th. Luke had a business meeting. Cindy, Shannon, Megan, and I were the four waitresses who worked the meeting. The meeting was upstairs inside The Devil’s Den. There were four bikers who rode in for the meeting, from out of town,” Tracy says.

  Holding his emotions in check while looking her in the eyes, he can see she is scared. She stands up crying slightly, she hugs him tightly. He takes a minute to gather himself. Tracy pays her tab and walks back to the Lakeview Lounge.

  “Wow,” Blake shouts.

  “Unbelievable,” Billy shouts back.

  The bell over the front door gets his attention. Another waitress dressed the same as Tracy from the Lakeview Lounge comes into the tattoo shop.

  “Blake,” Blake says, extending his right hand.

  “Shannon,” Shannon says, shaking his hand.

  Shannon lets him know she wants the same memorial tattoo as Tracy. Blake and Shannon stand, at his workstation while he prepares to do the tattoo work. He tells Shannon what she needs to do as well.

  “Cindy was my friend.”

  “Mine too,” Blake says quietly.

  Shannon stands up and takes off her T-shirt, showing a toned body with tanned skin, and a large, round, black full bra. She has long, straight dark hair with dark eyes, high cheekbones and a straight white smile. She is small in height, about five feet tall.

  The buzzing sound of the tattoo needle begins. There is some small talk between Blake and Shannon during the tattoo work but nothing too deep. After one hour or so, the buzzing sound of the tattoo needle stops.

  “Finished, Shannon,” Blake says.

  “Great,” Shannon says painfully.

  “Shannon, what can you tell me about the Lakeview Lounge?”

  “I don’t know much, but there is a guy his name is Lester. Ask him about The Punchbowl in the basement of the barn,” Tracy says.

  “The Punchbowl, I will. Thanks!”

  The tattoo work on Shannon is complete, and she makes her way out the door, and back to the Lakeview Lounge.

  “Hey?” Blake shouts.

  “I heard,” Billy shouts back.

  Some time goes by, Blake straightens up his workstation. He orders some more supplies from the website. The bell over the front door gets his attention. Another waitress dressed the same as Tracy and Shannon from the Lakeview Lounge comes into the shop.

  “Blake,” Blake says, extending his right hand.

  “Megan,” Megan says, shaking his hand.

  She is asking for the same tattoo as Tracy and Shannon.

  “Cindy was my friend.”

  “I understand,” Blake says quietly.

  Blake has Megan stand at his workstation while he prepares to do the tattoo work. He tells Megan what she needs to do as well. Megan stands up and takes off her T-shirt, showing a toned body, small white bra, with pale white skin. She has long straight red hair with blue eyes and a magazine cover worthy face. She is about five feet, eight inches tall. The buzzing sound of the tattoo needle begins. After one hour or so, the buzzing sound of the tattoo needle stops.

  “Finished, Megan,” Blake says.

  “Awesome,” Megan says in a little pain.

  “Megan, what can you tell me about the Lakeview Lounge?”

  “The guy you want to talk to is Lester. Ask him about the Starlight Trailer Park,” Megan says.

  “The Starlight Trailer Park, I will. Thanks!”

  After the completion of the tattoo work, Megan makes her way out the front door and back to the Lakeview Lounge.

  “Hey?” Blake shouts.

  “I heard!” Billy shouts back angrily.

  CHAPTER 8

  The bell over the door rings, and Lester steps inside. It’s 5:00 p.m. Blake knows what is next. He needs to close up the shop and get ready for the trip to Little Rock Island. He is relieved he was able to make some fast money from the three waitresses today. He replays everything they told him in his mind.

  Walking over to the front door, he sees Lester standing there.

  “Hey Lester,” Blake says.

  “Hey, Blake,” Lester says, looking at the floor.

  “Hey Billy, let’s go!” Blake shouts, not hearing any response from Billy.

  Stepping out the back door into the alley, he sees Billy sitting on a milk crate. Both of the palms of his hands are in his face. He has known Billy his whole life and knows how emotional he can be.

  “You OK, Billy?” Blake says.

  “Yes,” Billy says through some tears.

  “Lester is waiting for us.”

  “OK, I need a minute,” Billy says.

  “Billy, we are going to find out what happened to Cindy. We are going to do something about it. I need to know where you are emotionally. Are you ready to do this?”

  “Yes, I’m ready,” Billy says, standing up quickly wiping the tears from his eyes.

  “There you go. Come on, Lester is waiting for us.”

  He and Billy come out of the back of the shop and catch up with Lester.

  “Little Rock Island, boys!” Blake shouts.

  “OK,” Billy shouts weekly.

  “Yes!” Lester says.

  He, Billy, and Lester walk across the parking lot down to the water’s edge. There is an old wooden ten-foot row boat Lester arranged to be here.

  Blake can see the bonfire on Little Rock Island has already started. His smartphone shows 6:00 p.m. He, Billy, and Lester have time to get out to the island before it gets dark. He sits down and digs the oars into the water as deep as he can. With all his strength, he pull
s with his arms and pushes the core of his body backward. This motion is enough to push the small wooden rowboat with three men and a Styrofoam cooler of beer along the top of the water. He is facing the back of the boat where Billy is sitting. Billy will not make eye contact with him. Lester is sitting in the front of the boat, looking out towards the island.

  “Aim right for the fire Lester,” Blake says.

  “Little to the left Blake,” Lester responds.

  The bright sun hangs over the lake, causing him to sweat while he is rowing. He is wearing canvas sneakers, cutoff jeans, and a wife-beater T-shirt. Billy and Lester both have canvas sneakers, jeans, and T-shirts. Billy’s T-shirt is black, and Lester’s is red. After rowing steadily for thirty minutes, he stops and lets the boat glide over the water. Knowing the trip out to the island takes about one hour, he needs to pace himself. He knows Billy is not in any condition to row, but maybe Lester is. With the weight of three people in the boat, the trip to the island might take a little longer than one hour.

  The rowing continues.

  “Towards the fire Lester,” Blake says.

  “Little to the right Blake.”

  Knowing the water in the middle of the lake is fifty feet deep, he looks over the side and wishes the boat had life jackets. He doesn’t know if he could make it to shore or the island if something happened to the boat. The boat glides along the top of the water in the direction of the bonfire. He takes a minute to turn around and look at the island, off in the distance. Putting the two oars down and using his binoculars, he can see several people standing around the bonfire. He wonders if he will know any of them and hopes if he does, they are friends. He realizes if there is any trouble, he didn’t bring much help. If a fight breaks out, he is on his own with no back-up. Neither Billy nor Lester are in any condition to fight.

  Turning his head and looking out over the water, he can see several other small rowboats on their way to the island. The shoreline is getting smaller and harder to see. The view of the island is getting bigger. The green tree-lined details of the island are coming into focus. Turning his head, he can see a small sandy shore where the other rowboats are beached. He aims for the same shore. He digs the oars into the water as deep as he can with all his strength; he pulls with his arms, and he pushes his core body backward again. The boat is moving closer to the island. He estimates he is more than halfway there. His cooler is packed with cans of beer, and a bottle of whiskey. Every local knows if you come to a bonfire on the island, you better not show up empty-handed. He reaches into the cooler for a fist full of ice. He puts the ice in his mouth, helping to soothe his dry throat.

  “Anyone want to take a turn rowing?” Blake shouts.

  “No,” Billy says, staring into the water.

  “I will,” Lester says, changing positions with Blake.

  “Thanks, Lester.”

  From the front of the boat, he looks at the approaching island. He watches as Lester digs the oars into the water as deep as he can with all his strength, he pulls with his arms and pushes his core body backward. Blake can feel the muscles in his body ache. It’s been a few minutes of rowing for Lester. He can see Lester twisting his body around trying to make eye contact with him. He can see he already regrets volunteering to row; he wants to take a break from rowing. Blake looks the other way.

  “We are close, a few more minutes,” Blake says, feeling the boat moving forward.

  “Arr,” Lester groans.

  The boat is closing the distance between itself and the island. The boat struggles to hit land, but it does. The island is surrounded by little rocks; that is where the name comes from. A couple of rocks hit the bottom of the boat, and the boat makes contact with the shore of Little Rock Island. Blake ties the rope from the front of the boat to the closest pine tree. Lester groans, he falls over to the right side of the boat and takes a rest. Billy is sitting in the back of the boat. There are several similar boats tied off around their boat. Blake looks inside the other boats and doesn’t see any life jackets in their boats either. He grabs the cooler and puts it on the ground. He knows Billy and Lester do not drink. He drinks but not this much. The beer and whiskey are to get someone talking about what happened to Cindy Flynn.

  Pulling the boat up as far as he can to make sure it doesn’t drift off. Billy and Lester stand quietly next to him. He realizes neither one of them are going to be much help. He needed them both to come with him so they can see what is going on. He, Billy, and Lester, begin to walk through the woods closer to the fire. Classic rock from a radio can be heard in the same direction as the fire. Looking up ahead, he can see several local people standing around a bonfire. Next to the fire, there is a pile of sticks, branches, and logs stacked up high. The people around the fire stack the wood high so they don’t have to go on a wood run later in the night when it is dark out. He walks closer to the fire and puts the cooler down. Billy and Lester walk up next to him after throwing some logs and sticks onto the pile of wood next to the fire. He grabs an ice-cold beer for himself and another one for someone he is going to try to make friends with. He notices one of the young men standing at the fire is large and muscular. The young man is wearing tan work boots, cut-off jean shorts, and a T-shirt. He has a full head of dark hair and a beard. He watches as the man finishes his beer. He throws him one of his beers. The man catches it.

  “Thanks!”

  “No problem,” Blake says.

  The fire has an orange glow at the bottom with some large logs at the base. The red flames are up a little higher. The fire is about five feet in circumference and five feet high. He can see the people are trying to keep the fire small earlier in the night. There are large rocks in a circle ten to twenty feet around. He assumes the pile of wood next to the fire will be the size of the fire later in the night. The fire has a good base right now, but it is not raging. The closer he stands next to the fire, the fewer mosquito bites he gets.

  Looking around the fire, he sees several coolers full of beer and several people he thinks he knows. The men and women around the fire are all wearing canvas sneakers, cutoff jeans, and T-shirts. Some have long sleeve flannel shirts tied around their waist. There are several men and three women. He holds steady until people get used to him standing there.

  “Blake Rivers?” someone from the group says.

  “Yes,” Blake says.

  “Where have you been?”

  “Me and Rose moved down south for a while, and now I am back. I opened a new shop called Rivers Tattoo.”

  “Hurricane Katrina wiped you out, right?”

  “What is your name?”

  “Scott, you went to school with my younger brother, Steve.”

  “Oh yes, I remember Steve.”

  The conversation dies down, and the people around the fire keep drinking. He, Billy, and Lester talk quietly amongst themselves. He is trying to kill some time until the alcohol loosens some lips.

  “How much longer, Blake?” Billy whispers.

  “All night, if we have to,” Blake says angrily.

  The sun sets off the back of the lake, bringing a greater need for the fire. The water looks darker and more dangerous from the island. The shoreline looks further away without the sunlight. He buys his time drinking his beer, making small talk with a few of the people.

  “What are you doing here?” one of the women at the fire says.

  “Same as you,” Blake says.

  “I think you’re looking for something. Since you are here with Billy Flynn, I think you’re looking to find out what happened to Cindy Flynn.”

  “Can someone tell me what happened to her? We have an idea but want to be sure.” Blake says.

  “No one here is going to say anything. Everyone here either works for Luke or owes Luke money.”

  “So, you are more loyal to Luke than you are to Cindy. You knew her your whole life.” Blake says intensely.

  “Not what I said,” the woman says, lowering her head.

  Some more time passes, and
darkness settles in, more logs are thrown on the fire, the fire now rages into the night. The alcohol from the coolers has taken hold of most of the people, and they are getting sloppy. He is doing his best to not lose his temper. He is hoping someone will tell him something useful.

  Billy is lying down on the ground, resting on an old log. Lester is sitting on a rock. They are both miserable. Blake is standing strong, drinking beer, hoping someone will talk to him. He walks away from the fire to a patch of woods to take a piss. He takes his cooler with him. When he finishes urinating, he turns around and is surprised to see a young woman. He’s seen her before near his shop, and she is now standing in front of him.

  She motions for him to follow her, and he does. She is waving him over. She is wearing light tan work boots, white socks, cut-off jeans with a wide leather belt, a wife

  beater T-shirt with a blue and white checkered long sleeve flannel shirt tied around her waist. She has long dark hair, and he cannot see anything else because of the darkness. She grabs his arm and brings him to a clearing with a beautiful view of the lake. He can hear Billy and Lester walking through the woods a few feet behind him.

  “Hi, my name is Kelly. I am Shannon’s sister. I work at the Lakeview Lounge and I know what happened to Cindy Flynn. I was there the night she was killed,” Kelly says.

  “Can you tell us what happened?”

  “Yes.”

  Looking at the lake water with the moon hanging over it. The moon has brightened up the area he is standing in, he can see things more clearly. Blake sees there are some traces of fireworks struggling to be seen in the night sky. The warm summer night is calm and quiet with a fire raging in the background. He sits on the side of a small mound of sand close to the water’s edge.

  Looking at Kelly, he sees she has long, straight, dark hair with dark stormy eyes. He can see she is ready to talk. When she smiles, he can see it is forced. She is small in height, about five feet tall. She is a mini version of her sister Shannon. He sees Kelly has chosen to stand. Billy and Lester have a fire going, brightening the area.