by Tamara Woods
Isa's eyes widened. She hadn't expected him to have a backbone.
Watson grunted. He turned to Clare, "You'll receive a press release like everybody else."
"Do you want to make a statement to us now?" she asked, holding up her phone's mic toward him.
"No comment," he said, his voice flat. Clare stood to her full height, which was still a foot shooter than Watson. She insistently put her mic closer to his face.
"That's the statement you want to give to the good people of Whisper Valley? Do you think no one's going to hear about this? It'll be all around before the sun comes up tomorrow. Do you want them to be afraid to send their kids to school? Do you want them to think that this is the beginning of a serial killer on the loose?"
"A serial killer? Now, wait a minute-"
"People are going to want to know how they can keep themselves and their families safe. Here in Whisper Valley a lot of folks don't even lock their doors anymore. Should they be worried?"
He looked her over with an expression that Isa couldn't decipher. He spoke slowly like he was thinking over every word.
"From the evidence we've gathered, there's no reason to think that this was more than a one-time thing. However, it's always good to use some sort of caution. For an official statement, you'll have to wait for the press release."
"Thanks so much for your time, Officer Watson," Isa said, right as he was turning to leave.
"Stay out of this, Isadora. This is not your business," He spat at her before turning to leave. He stopped at the door, "If you're back here before we've left the premises, I will charge you with interfering with an investigation and obstruction of justice. Mr. Casto, I'll be back in here shortly."
He left the door open in his wake.
Chapter Six
Isa was posted up on Clare's futon, sharing a platter of cheese and crackers with a side of a nice Cabernet. From a nice quiet morning going to church to Travis to going to that recreational center...everything had gotten crazy today. They needed a moment to unpack it all. And Isa really needed to sort out her role in all of this. Could she be the person Travis needed her to be?
She crunched on Brie and crackers, loving the creamy texture of the cheese as she looked around. The colors were so warm and bright, inviting. Much warmer than she was feeling after seeing Chad like that. Much warmer than Travis was probably feeling in that holding cell tonight. She let her mind wander a little bit, not really settling on a thought.
"Ok, they found the body in the pin resetter," Clare said, striving for professionalism while wearing her flannel footie jammy jams. "What did we learn from him...it?"
She may be a reporter, but she was still just a hilljack from the sticks who had never dealt with something like this before.
Isa took a sip of wine to calm down her nerves. Seeing the dead man had been horrible. Dealing with Watson had been a pain in the...toe. Basically, she'd like to just throw the entire day away.
She inhaled deeply. "Someone had pushed him into the mechanism. And they must've started the thing."
"Right. Some guy must've been pretty strong to do that," Clare said, her voice quiet.
"Couldn't it have been a woman?" Isa asked. "He definitely tied one on last night. It's not like he was up to full strength or whatever."
Clare nodded in acknowledgment, taking some notes on her phone.
Isa took another sip of her wine, trying to figure out all the information they needed. Maybe an easier task would be figuring out what they knew. Then an idea struck.
"Hey, how does that machine work?" Isa asked.
"I'll have to ask Wes about that." Clare made another note.
"How do you know him so well, anyway?"
"When I used to bartend at the One Trick Pony before it closed down, he was one of my regulars. He's an all right guy. Always tipped well."
Isa nodded, her thoughts already moving on. Who would do that to Chad? Did they come from behind and push him? Was it an impulsive move? Why at The Rec? Did the neighbors hear or see anything?
"So many questions," Isa murmured. "How do we narrow everything down?"
"They've got Travis, huh?"
Isa nodded.
"Wonder what brought him to their attention?"
"Auntie made it sound like their arguments were staples for Whisper Valley gossips," Isa said.
"Yeah, that's true, but it's a helluva leap to go from arguing to killing somebody. Friends breakup and make up all the time."
Thinking of their settled disjointed feelings earlier in the week, Isa agreed. She nibbled on a cracker, thinking.
"Wait. How did they know The Rec was unlocked? They were there even before Wesley had opened the doors."
"Wes leaves the place open so if folks wanted to go there after church sessions, they could have a place to set up for lunch."
"You've got to be kidding me." Isa groaned. A seemingly helpful gesture had become the gateway to a murder. "And of course everybody knew about it."
"It's like you've been here before," Clare teased.
"We're back at square one."
"To be fair, it's more like we're on negative one." Clare poured more wine into her glass. She gestured at the bottle to Isa, who shook her head. A little drink to get loose was fine, but she didn't want to stumble home. There was too much to think about to muddy the waters.
"Let's start at basics then. Who hated Chad?" Isa asked.
"Just about everybody. Not to speak ill of the dead, but the guy could be a douche. Sometimes," Clare said.
Isa winced. "Right. That's clear enough. Did anybody else have words with him recently? Who would know that? Who's got all the gossip?"
Clare’s wide grin was her response.
Isa didn't like the look of that grin. She picked up her glass to steady herself. "Who is it?"
“Remember Ester?”
Ester had been a fixture at the town's diner since before Isa was a twinkle in her daddy's eye. And the biggest gossip. She wasn't interested in talking to the older woman, but Clare really thought she could shed some light on this situation.
“I guess we’re on our way to The PotHole Diner.”
They huddled in Clare's truck, blowing on their fingers. That night, the weather had taken a downturn for the cold and Clare hadn't given her truck the chance to warm up before they'd hopped in to go.
"It should heat up soon," she said.
Isa grunted and dramatically blew harder.
The PotHole Diner where Ester reigned sat just outside of city limits and catered to all the area truck drivers. Truckers were notorious for knowing what was going on.
From what Isa could remember, the PotHole Diner had some of the best food on a budget around. Their pepperoni rolls were always on point. She couldn't wait to have one. That was definitely one thing she'd missed about home, not having to bake her own pepperoni rolls if she wanted one.
The PotHole Diner looked like a white one-story non-descript building. There were a couple of picture windows, but they always had their red curtains closed. The parking lot used to be so riddled with potholes that no one referred to it as the old name, they just called it Pothole Diner. The owner decided not to fight it and just change the name to what people called it anyway.
"Awesome, the heat's just starting to kick in," Clare said, flipping off her dashboard.
"Did that make you feel better?"
"A little bit."
When they pushed open the diner's heavy doors, the warm air blasted their cheeks. The counter was still a white Formica and cracked. The booths had red seats that Isa remembered stuck to the back of her legs after sweaty track practices. The walls were a cheery white with yellow trim that Mel liked to paint every couple of years. Otherwise, all the grease would have made the walls a dingy yellow. It was the perfect contrast to the gray and white tiles that had been around since Isa was a kid.
The diner was packed for a Saturday night. They'd arrived a little bit after the early bird special, which according
to the sign was meatloaf, mashed potatoes and gravy, and green beans. With a roll and free coffee refills, of course.
They slid into their booth that they always used to sit at, with its tiny jukebox on the table, matching salt and pepper shakers in the shape of coal miners, and a tiny placard that had the daily specials on it. A waitress came over with the biggest beehive known to man, the reddest lipstick ever, but those lips were oddly bare with no cigarette hanging out of them.
"Ester, how are you doing?" Clare said with a smile.
"Hey girls! Well, look at you all growed up. You know my sciatica is acting up. And I sure wish I could smoke a cigarette in here like a normal decent American. Damn snowflakes."
Isa found herself squinting at the overpowering smell of White Diamonds and Salem Lights that Ester had been smoking since she was a kid. Clare scooted over and Ester took a seat. She coughed so hard that Isa caught a glimpse of her scalp underneath her wig.
"How's your aunt doing over there?" she asked, her voice scratchy. "I hear them Hammills are gonna start trouble with her."
Isa's eyebrows raised. This was news to her. The Hammills was Chad's kin.
"What all did you hear?" Isa asked.
Ester shrugged and pulled out one of those vape pens. "Hate this damn thing," she grumbled, coughing harshly again. "But Mel said he'd allow me to smoke on this as long as it ain't a real cigarette. This fake stuff is just as bad for ya, I hear."
Isa was chomping at the bit for her to continue, but she knew how this was played. You had to give Ester her time to get to whatever she was getting to.
"They say the Hammills want her out the building, so they can tear it down and build something else there. But I don't really knowed if that's true or a lie."
Isa's eyes widened. Was that what her aunt wanted her to come home for? She didn't even know what to say and looked at Clare significantly to get her to change the subject.
"What have you heard about lately with that boy?" Clare asked. She was being deliberately vague, and Isa knew why. She wanted to see if she'd heard about the murder without giving her new gossip to indulge in.
"Ester, get on up now!" Mel stood at the pass-through window with his stained white apron and a scowl on his face.
"Mel, I'm taking my five-minute break!" she hollered back. He grunted and threw down the towel on his shoulder. She turned to the girls, "That man wouldn't know what to do without me."
"Is he going to be teed-off with you?" Isa asked.
Ester pshawed. "Ain't nothing going to get that man to get rid of me. Unless he's going to dump this wedding ring too." She showed them the simple band with lovely cubic zirconium on it with pride. "He knows which side his bread is buttered."
"I love your ring! When did you make an honest man out of him?" Isa asked, taking a closer look at it.
"A couple years back girl. You need to come home more, so you can knowed things," she said.
Isa nodded, tired of being told off by the entire town. Were people not allowed to leave Whisper Valley and just live their lives? Oh, fish sticks!
"But back to that dead boy... I heared he was shot. Some folks say it was them out-of-towners and a deal gone wrong. Folks said his brother mighta got tired of his bull junk and showed him the business end of a 45. Others say his girlfriend did it, but don't nobody know who she was. He never had her out, but everybody knowed he had one. Mmm...hm..." she said nodding to herself.
The gossipers don't quite have it right. Not yet. But soon the ugly truth will get out, Isa thought.
"Can't never tell what people are doing behind closed doors," chimed in the guy in the booth behind them.
"That's the truth of it, ain't it Herb?"
"These young people don't have the sense God gave a billy goat," another voice chimed in.
"You tell 'em, Mary."
Voices who'd obviously been listening in kept hollering about how terrible young people were, especially Millennials. Of course, Isa and Clare were in fact Millennials. Awkward.
"I guess I better end my break, so y'all can get something to eat. You want you a pepperoni roll with everything and fries, young lady?" She asked Isa.
Isa was impressed. "Yes, ma'am! I can't believe you remember that."
"I remember a lot of things," she said and patted Isa's hand. "You're still a good girl. You take care of that aunt of yours. She's a treasure."
Isa smiled in return, touched.
"What you want, Trouble?" Ester asked Clare.
"Trouble? I've been a good girl for at least ten minutes," Clare said, teasing out a coughing laugh from Ester. She waited for her coughing fit to end before she put in her order. "Can I have the dinner special, please? And we both want a pop."
Ester braced herself to stand. She straightened up slower than she used to. "Don't get old girls, it's hell."
She turned to the window, "I'm up now Mel! Keep your shirt on! Unless you wanna give us a show! Eh, guys?"
There was a mix of cheers and jeers from the diners. Mel shook his towel at her and she blew him a kiss.
"What do you think of all that?" Isa asked.
Clare shrugged, "I don't rightly know. Had you heard anything about your aunt's shop?"
It was Isa's turn to shrug. "Nope, I sure hadn't. But I'd been wondering why she asked me to come home. If this is true, then that would make sense."
The Mystic Eye was her aunt's pride and joy. She would do the most to keep it going. And Isa had needed the excuse to leave town anyway and hadn't actually asked as many questions as she should've. She would do anything for the woman who'd given her the love and care she needed after her mother had died.
By mutual agreement, they listened to the gossip swirling around them. Though some of it was interesting—she hadn't known that the new history teacher, Ms. Phillips was sleeping with the science teacher, Mr. Palmer—none of it was really useful for her cause.
The pepperoni roll was just as good as Isa remembered. Spicy pepperoni, smothered in peppers and tomato sauce, topped with melted mozzarella. The bottom was crispy and a little greasy. Perfect with the crispy home fries. She hummed in happiness.
"Let's trade bites," Clare said. They switched plates and had a bite of each other's food. Isa piled a bite of meatloaf with mashed potatoes, foregoing the green beans. They were very moist and well-seasoned.
She traded their plates back and took a drink of her pop.
"I'm glad we came here. This place brings back memories. Remember when Wishy-Washy Joshy came here after baseball practice and vommed all over the cheerleaders?"
"They were so grossed out, it was amazing." They both laughed at the memory.
"What's he up to now?"
"I hear he's not doing so well," Clare said, her laughter drying up. "A lot of people are having a hard time finding a good job around here."
Isa nodded, recognizing that her aunt was very lucky to still be surviving if not exactly thriving.
She leaned forward, pitching her voice lower than everyone around them. "What do you think about what she said about the shop? Have you heard those rumors too?"
Clare shook her head, her volume matching her friend's. "I hadn't heard that, but it makes sense. That family is always trying to find a way to move further up the Whisper Valley food chain."
"Do you think one of their boys murdered under suspicious circumstances is going to put a damper on that?"
"It definitely ain't going to do anything good, I'll tell you that right now."
"Herb, you gotta stay outta our conversation now," Clare said, rolling her eyes.
Isa turned to look at him. His blue and black flannel stood out against the booth. He adjusted his NASCAR hat.
"You can't talk here and expect people not to join in. That's just un-American."
Isa sputtered with laughter under her friend's glare. What else could she do? He was hilarious. They made quick work of their dinner, left their cash on the table including a healthy tip, and headed out.
"Do you know any
of the neighbors of The Rec? Anybody you talk to on the regular?"
Clare thought for a minute, "Not really, but that won't stop me. Why, what do you have in mind?"
Isa told her friend her idea and they decided to try it out after church the next day if they had the time.
Isa groaned inwardly. She definitely hadn't missed going to church.
Chapter Seven
If there was ever a place Isa felt uncomfortable, it was always the Whisper Valley Evangelical Church. For a place that wasn't supposed to be full of judgment, she always felt on the spot. Like if she didn't come dressed correct, people would whisper behind their fans. And she knew the pews would be packed to the gills after the infamy of Travis being arrested. And once they heard it was at her house too? Whew, the minister wouldn’t be able to keep them out if he wanted to.
Which was exactly why she had to force herself to go.
"You know everybody's going to be there and telling their truths, especially after the fellowship." Her aunt had reminded Isa as she nudged her toward getting out of bed that morning. "You gotta get 'em while they're feeling full of the Lord's grace and honey baked ham."
Now Isa wore her most demure skirt and blouse, her hair covered in a lovely scarf as she drove her aunt to the church in her car.
"Are you sure you don't want to take a trip down to the Tamarack and pick up some new art pieces?" Isa asked, smiling beguilingly at her aunt. She knew one of the older woman's weaknesses was always finding a new artist to support.
Her aunt shook her head. "Nope, not today Satan. We're going to get our church on. And we're going to have a lovely time." She pulled her flask out of her purse and took a sip to punctuate the thought.
Sunday Funday my big toe, Isa thought sourly.
The church was at the end of the only cul-de-sac in town. The parking was always atrocious. It wasn't far from the house, but it was chilly out and it had rained overnight. Isa didn't want to take a chance with her aunt walking in her heels on the slick roadway.
The church was pretty modest compared to the megachurches in bigger cities.