Stay At Home Dad 03-Father Knows Death

by Jeffrey Allen

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, raising his eyebrows. His smile said otherwise.

  “You really killed George?” Susan asked, incredulous. “Sweet George?”

  “Let’s remember your sweet George was in love with sweet Matilda,” Butch said, frowning. “He was not in love with you, which you were too dumb to see.”

  “How did it happen?” I asked.

  Butch was ignoring me, though, focused on Susan. “Your sweet George wanted nothing to do with you. He told you to take a hike.”

  “Stop,” she said.

  “He couldn’t stand you,” he continued. “He told you he didn’t want anything to do with you.”

  I couldn’t fault George there.

  Susan bit her lip.

  “But me?” he said, pointing his own finger at his chest. “Me? I’ve been there for you. Always trying to help you out. Do whatever you ask. And what thanks do I get?” He shook his head, disgusted. “You tell me we’re done because you want to try again with George. Only George is already in love with someone else and has absolutely zero interest in trying anything again with you.”

  The pseudo-love triangle was making my head hurt. It seemed as if Susan had tried to replace George with Butch and, while that hadn’t worked for her, he apparently had taken to the role.

  Maybe a bit too much.

  “I even went to check with him for you,” he said, frowning like he smelled something rotten.

  “You did what?” Susan asked.

  “I went to make sure there was no chance he’d get together with you,” he said, waving the gun at her. “You were all broken up that he’d told you to stop bothering him and, stupid me, I thought I’d go tell him he’d hurt you and maybe that might change his mind. Even though you’d just told me we had no future. Because I’m that nice.”

  The way he was waving the gun around and talking, Butch seemed anything but nice.

  “So you went to tell him about Susan’s feelings for him?” I asked, scanning the arena and the grandstand.

  We were still alone. The parade must have stalled out completely and I imagined everyone in the town was trying to sort out the commotion.

  “Yeah,” he said, annoyed. “I left her house after she told me we were through and went right to his house. Woke his dumb butt up to tell him he was passing up a great opportunity with Susan.”

  “And what’d he say?”

  “He told me to get off his property,” Butch said, narrowing his eyes. “I thought that was rude.”

  “George was never rude,” Susan said. “He didn’t have it in him.”

  “Whatever,” Butch said. “I didn’t like the way he dismissed me. He wouldn’t even listen to me. I mean, I was trying to do the guy a favor. So I wouldn’t leave.” He chuckled. “He didn’t like that, either, but he couldn’t do anything about it.”

  Butch seemed to enjoy his role as kind of a bully. I thought that joining a motorcycle club probably only empowered his sense of worth. And if he really was that hung up on Susan, he seemed like he was more than capable of hurting someone.

  “So he decided he was just gonna leave, since I wouldn’t,” Butch said. “So I followed him here to the fairgrounds.”

  “What did you do to him?” Susan said, her hands on her cheeks.

  Butch chuckled. “Well, it was sort of an accident. He wouldn’t listen to me. I tried to get him to listen to me. For you, Susan. I tried to talk to him for you.”

  Susan was crying now, tears running over her hands, which were plastered to her cheeks. For the first time, I felt a little sorry for her.

  “I gave him a little shove,” Butch said. “And he didn’t really like that. And, then, when he took a swing at me, I shoved him a little harder.”

  Susan sobbed quietly, her cries echoing up the stairs of the grandstand, and I didn’t say anything.

  Butch shuffled his feet. “He sorta hit his head—on a brick—and didn’t get up.”

  “He was dead?”

  Butch hesitated, then nodded.

  “So you just put him in the freezer?” I asked.

  He hesitated, then nodded again. “Didn’t really know what else to do with him.”

  “Call the police,” I said. “Or an ambulance. Nine-one-one would cover all your bases. He took a swing at you. You could’ve claimed self-defense.”

  “Yeah, those didn’t occur to me,” he said, shrugging.

  Clearly.

  “And let’s face it,” Butch said. “I pushed him. I knew it would come out about me and Susan. I knew what it would look like. Putting him in the freezer seemed like the right thing to do.”

  That was something I never expected to hear anyone on the planet say.

  “And you knew eventually I’d get to Susan,” I said.

  Butch chuckled again. “Well, I saw the opportunity to push you that way.”

  He certainly had and I’d let him do it. He’d subtly pointed me in her direction and I had strolled right down that path. I’d jumped to conclusions and assumptions and it had put me right at the end of a handgun.

  Well done.

  49

  Butch moved Susan and me to the bottom of the grandstand at the far end of the arena, farther away from the gate, the gun still trained on us.

  “So now what?” I asked.

  “Good question,” he said, rubbing his chin. “I can’t just trust you to keep your mouths shut.”

  “Oh, I will!” Susan said. “I won’t say anything!”

  He rolled his eyes. “Right. That’ll happen right about never.”

  “So then what?” I said.

  I wanted to figure out what I was dealing with and also buy some more time. So far, I was getting the time, but nothing was coming into my head as to how to save Susan and myself. Butch may have killed George, but it did seem to be accidental to me. So maybe he wasn’t ready to deliberately kill anyone.

  “Well, I gotta figure out where to put your bodies,” he said, his mouth twisted in thought.

  Or, maybe he was.

  Susan let out a loud whimper.

  At the far end of the arena, I could see movement behind the fence, but I wasn’t sure who or what it was. I tried not to look, because I didn’t want Butch to turn around. He wasn’t close enough for me to leap at him if his attention was diverted elsewhere. I needed to just keep him occupied.

  “You think you can just shoot us and get rid of us and no one will know?” I asked. “Butch, the entire town saw me on the back of your bike at the parade. I mean, you spoke to my wife and arranged a ride for her. People aren’t going to just forget that. It ties you directly to me.”

  He thought hard for a moment, temporarily stumped. Then a slow grin spread across his wide face. “I can make it look like Susan did it. Everyone also saw her leave. I tried to help, but she knew you were asking too many questions and, since she killed George, she figured she had to off you.” His grin grew wider. “Then I found her with the gun, we struggled, and the gun went off.” He snapped the fingers of the hand that wasn’t holding the gun. “Bingo!”

  I hated to say it, but that actually sounded like a decent plan. He could probably come up with someone who knew about Susan and George, so he could make that connection. And people had seen me talking with Susan.

  Butch was actually turning out to be smarter than I’d anticipated, and that was a problem. I really wanted to see my wife and daughter again, and my new child for the first time. I did not want to die at the fair.

  There was more movement behind the fence. I tried not to look at it.

  “People will hear the gunshots,” I said. “And then you’ll have to move our bodies. Gonna be tough to do when everyone starts pouring into the fairgrounds here soon.”

  His grin faded. He hadn’t considered that and it was a roadblock in his grand plan.

  The gate at the end of the arena started to move. Quietly.

  “Look, if you go to the authorities now,” I said, “you can tell them it w
as an accident. If you kill us, there’s no going back. There’s no way out. Don’t make it worse for yourself, Butch.”

  “I appreciate the offer to help, Deuce,” Butch said. “But I don’t think your TV movie of the week logic is gonna work for all of us.” He smiled. “I got a truck. I’ll figure out a way to get your bodies out of here. I’m sure it’ll work out.”

  Susan whimpered again.

  “Your brothers in the Petal Dawgs know you killed George?” I asked, reaching for what I figured was the final straw.

  Butch’s face darkened. “No. They do not.”

  “I don’t think they’d like the fact that you hurt one of your own,” I said. “You told me something like that.”

  “Which is why they can’t ever know,” he said, the lines in his forehead thick and deep. “I’d be removed from the brotherhood. Forever.”

  The gate at the far end was almost open. I could see what was there.

  Salvation.

  But I needed to keep Butch occupied.

  I slid in front of Susan, obscuring her view of the gate. I didn’t want her to give anything away.

  I pulled my cellphone out of my pocket. “Too late, Butch.”

  He looked at me, confused. “Too late? For what?”

  “I’ve recorded all of this,” I lied, holding up the phone. “Everything you’ve just said? I’ve got it.”

  His eyes locked onto me, processing my words. “Give me the phone.”

  “No,” I said. “Let us go and I’ll delete it. You can handle the murder how you want. Tell everyone it was an accident or something. But you’ve got to let us go.”

  “Not gonna happen.”

  I shrugged. “Okay. Your choice. I’m sending this now to several people.” I made a show of tapping on the phone.

  Butch hesitated, then started walking quickly in my direction. “Gimme the phone, Deuce.”

  “Too late, Butch,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m sending it now. I gave you a chance.”

  He took several more steps toward me and leveled the gun at me. “Then it’s too late for you.”

  And then a tidal wave hit.

  50

  Water streamed from one of the hoses inside the paper-mâché Earth, knocking Butch to the ground. Victor held the hose steady and Butch rolled farther away in the mud of the arena floor, the gun now lying in a massive puddle.

  I leapt over the railing, splashed down in the mud puddle, and grabbed the soaking wet gun. The water stream shut off and I aimed the gun at a coughing and dripping Butch.

  “You got him?” Victor yelled from inside the Earth.

  “Got him.”

  He said something to the driver of the pickup and they pulled forward, toward us. The driver pulled around so that the Earth came up next to me.

  “Cops are on their way,” Victor said, laying the hose down.

  “How’d you know?”

  “I got your voice mail,” he said. “Thanks for waking me up, by the way. I was napping. I got to the parade and saw all the chaos. And your wife, on the back of a motorcycle.”

  I had a moment of panic, wondering if it was all some sort of elaborate setup and Julianne was in danger. But I quickly ruled that out. Butch had made it clear that he’d acted alone and no one knew what he’d done.

  “She told me that you’d taken off toward the fairgrounds,” he said. “I got over here and peeked through the fence. Saw you there and decided I liked you better alive than dead.” He motioned at the truck. “They were coming through the grounds and I commandeered them.”

  “Commandeered?”

  “Okay, I saw the kid driving the truck and a hose hanging over the back and paid him fifty bucks,” he said. “By the way, you owe me fifty bucks.”

  “Noted.”

  “I’m assuming there’s a good reason that dude was holding you at gunpoint?”

  I quickly explained to him what had happened and what I’d learned from Butch’s confession.

  Victor shook his head. “Man, I was sure that old woman was the one. She fooled me.”

  I nodded. Butch had caught me by surprise. He’d never been on my list. Even though I hadn’t known anything about his relationship with Susan, I’d overlooked him. That night at the board meeting, the way he’d gone after the board, I’d pegged him as a good guy, a guy who was on the same side as me.

  Wrong.

  Deuce Winters, failed detective.

  I shielded my eyes from the blazing sun with my hand. “Can you handle this? I need to get to . . .”

  “The hospital,” Victor said. “Was wondering if you’d get around to remembering about that.” He hopped down out of the truck and pointed at the driver. “You get this guy to the hospital and there’s fifty more bucks in it for you. Interested?”

  The driver grinned. “For sure.”

  Victor glanced at Butch, who was still on his back in the mud, a resigned expression on his wet, muddy face. Susan was sitting still on the bleachers, sobbing her eyes out. “Yeah, I can handle these two. Go.”

  “Thanks, Victor,” I said, handing him the gun and climbing into the truck. “For everything.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he said, frowning. “I’m the best.”

  As the pickup roared out of the dirt arena, I wasn’t about to tell him that he was, but I silently agreed.

  51

  Julianne did not look happy to see me. “Oh. You’re here.”

  I sat down on the chair next to her hospital bed, exhausted, sweat dripping down my face. “I’m here.”

  She shifted on the bed. “Yes. You are.”

  “How are you?” I glanced anxiously at the IV taped to her hand and the monitors that beeped continuously.

  She ignored my question. “You look . . . warm.”

  “It’s hot out,” I said. I closed my eyes. “Oh, and I was kidnapped.”

  “Kidnapped?”

  “Well, not so much kidnapped as fooled.”

  “Fooled? You?” Julianne gripped the sides of the hospital bed. “That’s hard to believe.”

  “Are you all right? Should I call for the nurse?”

  She waved her hand in dismissal. “I’m fine. Tell me what happened. Distract me, dammit, so my body won’t explode.”

  I explained what had happened after she’d left.

  She took a deep breath. “I’m glad I saw Victor, then.”

  “Me, too.” I stared at her for a long moment. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “For leaving you,” I said. “For letting you get here on the back of some motorcycle. For all of that.”

  She reached for my hand. “It’s you being you.”

  “Well, maybe being me is a bit too much,” I said, fanning myself with my hand. “I’m not sure I’m cut out for investigating anymore.”

  She smiled. “You’ll change your mind.”

  “I’m serious, Jules,” I said, shaking my head. “We’re about to have a baby. I don’t need to be doing this anymore. I’d rather be at home with the kids and help you with your practice and just be a dad and a husband.”

  She eyed me cautiously. “You get . . . restless.”

  “I know I do,” I admitted. “So maybe you’ll need to remind me of this moment.”

  She laughed softly. “I’ll try, but I doubt it’ll do anything.”

  “And in addition to being a crappy parent, I’ve also been a crappy dad. Speaking of which, where is our daughter?”

  “Still with your parents,” Julianne said. “They took her downstairs to the cafeteria to get something to eat. She said all of this waiting was making her hungry.”

  She paused and her face screwed up with concentration. She breathed deeply through her nose, and I knew a contraction was bowling her over. She expelled her breath slowly. “Your mom said they’d keep her down there until you told them it was okay to come back up.”

  “Okay,” I said. “How are you?”

  “I’m fine,” she lied. “I feel better than you look,
I think.”

  I was still having trouble catching my breath and I couldn’t cool off. “I’m okay.”

  “You look pale,” she said. “You need some water. I think the sun got to you.”

  “I’ll get some,” I said. “How close are you?”

  She leaned back against the mountain of pillows behind her. “I don’t know.”

  “What can I do?” I asked, feeling helpless. It was just like it had been with Carly. Julianne lying in a hospital bed, gritting her teeth and sweating, then screaming as she went into transition. As excited as I’d been about being so close to meeting our first child, I’d felt awful for putting her through that kind of pain.

  On cue, she winced and squeezed my hand and I felt like the biggest jerk alive for getting her knocked up again. After a few seconds, she let go. “Soon. Kid’s coming soon.”

  My head hurt and I felt a little dizzy. My throat was dry. But she wanted to be distracted. And we still had business to discuss.

  “So. I made it here before the baby was born,” I said.

  Her expression returned to the one I’d seen when I first got there. “I realize that.”

  “You know what that means?”

  “Yes.” She sucked in a breath and squeezed her eyes shut. I glanced at the clock. Her contractions were less than three minutes apart. “I don’t have to kill you.”

  I forged ahead with my distraction tactic. “It also means I get full naming rights.”

  She folded her arms across her chest and glared at me. “I just said that so you’d get here.”

  “We made a bet,” I reminded her. “And I won. Fair and square.”

  “What if I don’t like your choice?” she asked.

  “You’ll have to live with it,” I said, wiping more sweat from my forehead. “Do you have water in here?”

  “No,” she said. “I’ll buzz the nurse.” She grabbed her little remote thing and pressed the button. “Now you owe me.”

  “Owe you?” I was feeling a little disoriented.

  “For getting you water,” she answered. “So I’d like naming rights back.” A whimper tore through her and she writhed in the bed, twisting and bucking.