The Ex Killer Series

by Bridget Bundy

  I turned on the television and returned to the same spot near the window. I listened, waiting for the program to come on. I wouldn’t dare look at the familiar face that was about to show. Fear gripped my entire body. Will there be proof that I killed Jason? Did someone know for certain that I poisoned him?

  A woman name Jonetta Hawkins was hosting. She sat in a chair wearing a crisp red suit. Jonetta was a tall, medium sized woman. She had blonde hair that settled as thick curls on her shoulders, and she looked bright and glowing under the lights of the studio.

  The music stopped and the audience applause died away. Jonetta began, “Welcome back to the show. Weren’t those ideas wonderful in the last segment for the 4th of July? I’m going to try some of those recipes at home.” A light, agreeable noise rose from the audience. She continued, “Okay, we have to move on, folks, to a more serious subject. My next guest is a woman who is fighting for the truth. She is trying to uncover the details behind her nephew’s death. Please, welcome to the show Evelyn Stone.”

  Evelyn sat in the chair opposite of Jonetta with her hands resting in her lap. She looked unhappy despite the fact she was smiling. She was wearing a dark blue suit and her onyx hair was in a tight bun.

  “Evelyn is here because her family has suffered a huge loss. You see the picture behind us? That young man is her nephew, Jason Stone. Some of you may have already heard of him. He used to play college basketball. He was so good that the pros were taking a close look at him in his sophomore year.”

  I rolled my eyes. I still could not get over how people put Jason on a pedestal. He didn’t deserve to be looked up to. In my opinion, he was a bully and a nuisance. He wouldn’t be dead if he’d just left me alone.

  “Jason is no longer with us, ladies and gentlemen. He is dead, and Evelyn believes that he was murdered. She is going to share with us why she thinks this is true.” Jonetta turned her attention to Evelyn and said, “Welcome to the show.”

  “Thank you for having me, Jonetta.”

  “Evelyn, how old was Jason when he died?”

  “He was 19 years old.”

  “When did he pass away?”

  “Jason died on Saturday, May 23rd of this year.”

  “Can you tell us the events that led to his death?”

  “Jason left home on Friday, May 22nd, and he went to a party by himself at the home of Alabama State Senator Raymond Carver. He was drinking at the party, but he was not doing drugs. I was told he climbed the diving board. People saw him jerk like he was having a seizure, and he fell head first on the cement below. Jason slid into the water, and someone pulled him out. He was taken to the hospital, but he never regained consciousness after that. He died early Saturday morning.”

  “You just said he wasn’t doing drugs, but I read that Jason had an extraordinarily high level of drugs in his system.”

  “That is true, but...”

  “Evelyn, it’s not a far-fetched idea that if Jason was drinking, then he must have been doing drugs, as well.”

  “Jason had a basketball scholarship that would have paid for his entire college education. He would never risk losing it over drugs.”

  “But kids make bad decisions every single day. He wasn’t perfect, Evelyn. Maybe, he thought he could get away with doing drugs away from school.”

  “I’m not saying Jason was perfect. He wasn’t by any means. But the bottom line is he didn’t abuse drugs. Someone at that party poisoned him. They either drugged the food he ate or the alcohol he drunk.”

  “You are accusing someone of murder. That is a very serious accusation considering the home he was at.”

  “It is an accusation that is true despite where it happened.” Evelyn spoke with conviction. “Jason was allergic to diazepam. A very high dosage was found in his body along with several other drugs you can only get with a prescription. He knew he was allergic to diazepam, and he would never knowingly take it.”

  I knew I put diazepam in the mixture, but I had no idea he was allergic to it.

  “It has been publicized there was a bowl full of drugs at this party, two bowls as a matter of fact. Isn’t it possible he might have been experimenting? Someone could have told him there wasn’t diazepam in the bowls.”

  “All of the drugs in those bowls were tested, and they found over the counter meds and cough medicines you get from the pharmacy without a prescription. Jason’s toxicology report came back positive for diazepam, methadone, codeine, two different kinds of blood pressure meds, and other prescription drugs; no over the counter drugs and no drugs you get from the pharmacy without a prescription. Whoever did this knew what they were doing. They knew that mixture would kill him.”

  I remember those exact bowls being passed around. I remember Tanie showing me and telling me about them. Evelyn Stone was presenting facts that could land me square under the jail if I was connected to Jason’s murder. I was so scared, so afraid.

  “Do you think the Carvers are responsible for Jason’s death?”

  Evelyn sat back in her chair and answered, “I can’t positively say one of them poisoned him. I can’t see a reason why they would.”

  “Who do you believe poisoned Jason?”

  I turned my head slightly, and I waited intently for Evelyn’s answer.

  “I don’t know, but I want the police to find out. I want the police to treat Jason’s death as a murder, and I want them to investigate.”

  “The Sheriff has already indicated that the medical reports did not indicate he was murdered. It was ruled as an accidental death caused by overdose and trauma to the head. Because of these findings, he won’t do anything else further. His hands are tied unless the medical examiner changes her conclusions. You do not believe the Sheriff’s statement. You think there is a cover up?”

  “There is a cover up, Jonetta. It’s a fact. My nephew died in an Alabama State Senator’s private home. That man is stopping the investigation to protect himself and his family. He has a duty not only to my family but to everyone that loved Jason to let the truth be told. We deserve answers.”

  “Evelyn, you’ve heard the statements made from Senator Carver. He has publicly stated that he was not home when this party was going on. The Senator and his wife were in Washington DC attending Memorial Day events. Of course, he did not reveal where his daughter was at the time of this party.”

  “She was at the party, Jonetta. She was the one throwing the party, and kids from all over Lowndes County and beyond were there, and they will all say the same thing I just told you.”

  “Do you believe his killer will ever be found?”

  “Yes, I do, and I expect full punishment of Jason’s killer no matter who they are.”

  “Evelyn, it is quite clear that your nephew’s death is still fresh and painful to you. How is the rest of your family holding up?”

  Evelyn’s brave composure was melting away as she tried to answer in a steady voice, “My sister, Carolyn, is in the hospital. Unfortunately, she had a heart attack about four days ago, and she’s in intensive care. With the shock of Jason’s death and then finding out later he was poisoned put too much stress on her.”

  I was stunned, and I went towards the television.

  Evelyn continued, “My family is falling apart, Jonetta. I feel like they are being stolen away from me. Jason is gone. Carolyn is barely hanging on. Carolyn’s youngest daughter is just folding in on herself. She hasn’t spoken in two days, and this little girl is nothing like that. It is just a complete upheaval.”

  Jonetta reached over to touch Evelyn’s hand. Jonetta was trying to control her emotions, but Evelyn couldn’t. She cried into a tissue she had stashed in her hand.

  I looked away and pushed off the bed. I turned off the television and went to the window once again to watch the rain. I couldn’t watch another moment of television, and it just made it worse to hear Lori Anna, Jason’s little sister, wasn’t talking; not being who I remembered her to be. Lori Anna was a cute bumpy brown face, little girl. She had une
nding energy, and her happiness was contagious. Everyone loved this child. I loved her. I was relieved I didn’t have to see her like that.

  I closed the curtains. That was enough of the rain. I curled on the bed throwing the semi-clean comforter over my entire body. I wasn’t sleepy, and I wasn’t trying to go to sleep. I was trying to remember positive moments from my past, people that once made me happy. My mother came to mind. She was a bright light when she was alive. Her smile lit up my mind. I tried to remember her laugh, but the sound of her voice was long gone. If she was alive today, I knew I wouldn’t be where I am today. My life would be totally different.

  My family was a distant memory. I was going to face the future alone. My heart beat faster knowing this reality. My hate rooted as I accepted it. My sadness took over.

  FRIDAY, JUNE 19, 2009

  CHAPTER ONE

  I wanted to start over in a big city when I first left Colum, Alabama, but when I arrived in Atlanta, Georgia; I automatically knew I wasn’t going to stay. As big as the city was, I felt like I was being stalked, like everyone around me knew what I did. Paranoid, no doubt, but I had to change my environment. I found the next bus going north within ten minutes of being there, and I hopped on it right before it left. I didn’t care where it was going, as long as it got me far away from Atlanta and even further away from Colum. I eventually landed in Wisp, but not at first. I had to pay attention in order to get to that hidden little corner of the world.

  According to my laminated hotel room brochure, Wisp was a small town located in the southeastern part of North Carolina. The population was around 5,000 people. The downtown area was a grid with local shops that had been around since the 1950s. It had an old town feel, with brick buildings showing their weathered age, rusted signs, and a bird poop marble statue of the founder George Wisp in the center of Main Street and Fifth Avenue. Houses surrounded the downtown area along with the natural forests, which gave the illusion the population was much smaller.

  Wisp had a beautiful mile long public beach, and it mostly catered to families and elderly couples. Noisy, fast jet skis were strictly prohibited. They were banned from use by a city ordinance ten years ago. Parasailing was out of the question and playing loud music was not allowed. The whole town itself mainly held the characteristic of slow living and a quiet lifestyle.

  Wisp wasn’t too far from a commercial town called Threshold, which boasts a large outside shopping center, a mall, and several business centers. Threshold is west of Wisp and is directly off the interstate, strategically placed for its convenience to travelers. It also provides jobs for many people living close by, including residents of Wisp. There are no signs indicating how to get to Wisp in Threshold. It’s tucked stealthily behind twenty miles of protected long leaf pines, thick shrubs, and grasses. The brochure goes on to tell the state horse, the state flower, the state this, and the state that. It was a quick read, and I had no idea what was the purpose of all that information.

  Anyway, I landed in Threshold first because I was tired of the cramped bus with its misbehaving two year old, screaming babies, and an indescribable smell of leather, sweat, and unchecked body odor. I found a nice hotel to stretch my bones and relax my body. I soon realized it was draining my money quickly, and I didn’t want to get back on the road again. I needed to find a more affordable place to stay temporarily. I’d heard conversations about Wisp when I’d go out to eat sometimes and decided to give that place a try.

  A lot of local residents travelled home to Wisp on a shuttle from Threshold. It only cost a dollar for a one way trip. I found one of the bus stops, which weren’t marked, paid a dollar when the shuttle arrived, and I was on my way. I loved the trip. It didn’t take any longer than fifteen minutes. The pine trees were crowded into a majestic forest and were lined up two yards off each side of the road. It looked like a long, tall corridor. The trees opened up to different color homes and beautifully kept front yards.

  I instantly fell in love with Wisp’s charm. Small homes were right next to bigger homes, and each house looked different. Every yard had its own cozy look with shrubs and flowering bushes and unusual looking plants I’d never seen before. There were small shops all over Main Street. A barber shop with the candy cane lamp twirling next to the entrance, an ice cream parlor, bookstore, coffee shop, women’s dress boutique, and a men’s suit store were only a few places I’d first seen upon entering the town. It was a lovely place for those not wanting to deal with the nonstop bustle of Threshold. Everyday people walked the sidewalks with ease like there wasn’t a care in the world.

  It’s been a week now since I first arrived in Wisp, and I was feeling at home despite the fact I was living in a cheap hotel. It was a lonely existence since no one knew me.

  The rain finally stopped by mid-afternoon, and I didn’t waste time getting out into the summer sun. My first stop was the convenience store. I stared at the array of snacks trying to decide what I wanted to eat. I held a cold soda in one hand, sometimes switching it to the other. I wished I’d got the soda last because my hands were starting to hurt. I picked up a pack of unsalted peanuts and paid for the items. I left the store with the beach in mind.

  Within a few minutes, I stood at the boardwalk that ran parallel to the beach. There wasn’t anyone walking or laying on the sand because it was wet from the downpour earlier that day, but some people walked the boardwalk. I wanted to sit on one of the benches, but it was soaking wet, too. With really no dry place to sit, I settled on watching the water from where I stood. For me, it was just really nice to see the Atlantic Ocean. I never knew it truly existed until I came to Wisp.

  I was getting sleepy after a couple of hours of wandering the boardwalk. I strolled lazily back up the road. I felt good as the ocean air blew, and the salty, humid air tickled my nostrils. I liked the outside. It was natural medicine.

  When I rounded the corner to the street where my hotel was located, I noticed fire trucks and the police had the entrance completely blocked off. A large blaze rose from the hotel. I ran towards the fire completely shocked by what I saw. My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach. I pushed through the crowd, and I crossed the yellow police tape. A police officer stopped me, but I tried to get away. I needed to get to my room, but the entire one level hotel was engulfed in flames. The police officer held me tight, and I couldn’t break free.

  At first, I didn’t hear what he was saying. The noise of the fire took over every sense I had. He yelled at me again, “Is someone else in there?”

  I tried to speak, but I couldn’t.

  “Miss, is someone else in one of those rooms?”

  I finally found my voice and answered, “No, but all of my things are in there, my money and my clothes.”

  “You can’t go over there.” The officer squatted down just a little to make eye contact with me. He said again, “You can’t.”

  I gazed at him again through teary eyes and then back at the burning structure. I could see only fire and smoke. I stopped resisting, and he walked me slowly behind the line. He watched as I slowly disappeared into the crowd and back across the street. I sat on the curb watching the blaze consume what was left of my life. My heart was beating hard, and my breathing was fast. I was so scared, so unsure about what to do.

  I was drowning in my misery when I heard an argument across the street. A tall, skinny man was yelling at a young woman. She may have been a little older than me. The woman was yelling right back at him. The same police officer that stopped me from getting too close to the fire went over to referee. As soon as he stepped between them, the skinny man declared the woman was fired, and she told him he had no right to fire her. The skinny man stormed away and the officer gave the woman a ‘sorry-you’re-fired’ smile before going after the guy.

  All of a sudden, the young woman grabbed a little boy by the arm that was standing next to her. I didn’t see the child until she did that. The boy kicked and fought her. Once he was loose of her grip, he took off running down the street. His hea
d was tilted back slightly, and he was screaming. The woman was about to take off after him when she happened to see me staring. She saw the tears on my face, and I saw her expression of worry. The woman looked down the street to see how far the kid had gone.

  The show was over, and I sat on the hard cement curb. What else could I do but continue crying and feeling sorry for myself? I was broke, homeless, and I had nothing to look forward to. I couldn’t even get another pack of unsalted peanuts, and it was only fifty cents.

  I didn’t realize the woman crossed the street until she asked, “Are you okay?”

  I looked up slowly and asked, “Excuse me?” I heard her, but for some unknown reason, I didn’t think she was talking to me. I was the only one sitting on that curb, and she was looking directly at me. Who else could she be talking to?

  She repeated, “Are you okay?”

  I stood and answered, “No.”

  The woman commented, “You were staying at the hotel. I remember you.”

  I didn’t feel like being friendly, much less making a new friend. I started walking away.

  “Did you lose everything in the fire?”

  I stopped and answered, “Yes.”

  “Do you have another place to stay?”

  The tears were welling up in my eyes.

  “I can help you.” The woman said gently.

  “You can’t help me.” Who was she anyway?

  She touched my arm and said, “You just lost everything in that fire. That means you need a place to live, clean clothes, and maybe even a friendly shoulder to cry on. I can help you.”

  What choice did I have anyway? I didn’t even own clean underwear. So, the offer was a no brainer.

  “I got an extra room you can use. You’re about my size. So, you can wear my clothes until you get your own.”

  “Why are you being so nice to me?”