Eyeshine

by Cy Wyss

  Of course, even the best laid plans can go awry. Robert didn’t see Mrs. Norton until he was practically on top of her. PJ tried to warn him, but she had the hose out and spraying before PJ could get a sound out.

  “Ahh!”

  Robert covered his face with his hands and ran for all he was worth. He dropped the dummy to the ground. It fell approximately where PJ had seen Chip. Mutt danced around Mrs. Norton barking, and she focused the water on him. He yelped and ran down the ravine, the opposite direction of Robert.

  By the time PJ finally got herself up a tree and ensconced so she could film the scene, Mrs. Norton had turned the hose off. She looked at the dummy. A string of profanity floated up to where PJ was. Mrs. Norton tried to take the hose to the dummy, but the hose was at the end of its reach and didn’t quite make it. She threw the hose down, leaving it running, and stomped back up the ravine to her house.

  PJ was dejected. The dummy lay spread-eagle in the mud at the edge of the creek. The hose was running and making the mud muddier. And there was no sign of Mrs. Norton.

  Crap, PJ thought. This isn’t working. If we can’t show old Mrs. Norton pushing the dummy back into the stream, this is all for nothing.

  After several minutes, PJ turned off her camera and started down from the tree. She came to the dummy and sniffed it. It smelled like starch and mud.

  Suddenly, water splashed against her. She yelped and ran. Mrs. Norton was back and swearing a blue streak. PJ jumped to the nearest tree trunk and scaled it. Mrs. Norton sprayed her with the hose until she was out of reach, high up in the trees branches. Then, Mrs. Norton turned her attention to the dummy.

  “Filth on my property!” she yelled.

  She tried dragging the dummy by a leg, but it was too heavy for her. Instead, she got down on her hands and knees in the mud and pushed against the dummy’s torso. Slowly but surely, the dummy turned over. Mrs. Norton redoubled her efforts and managed to roll the dummy into the stream. It lay against the water’s bed, stuck between two stacks of rocks. Mrs. Norton screeched in anger and screamed profanities for quite a while. Then she went back and got the hose and aimed it as far as she could. The spray barely reached the dummy.

  “Why aren’t you going away?” Mrs. Norton cried. “Like the man?”

  High up in the tree, PJ was hoping the camera’s tiny microphone had caught that. She guessed she’d find out, but she’d have to wait until morning. What a mess she was—soaking wet and shaking like a leaf high up in the tree. I hope this works, she thought, staring at the profanity-producing woman far beneath her.

  — 19 —

  Suspect

  Two days later, PJ was at the county seat in the sheriff’s offices. She was there to convince Sheriff Denning to question old Mrs. Norton, whose given name was Constance. At first, the sheriff wouldn’t even see her. But PJ was nothing if not persuasive and talked his secretary into chiding him about his reluctance. She was then granted entrance into his inner sanctum.

  “PJ Taylor. What the devil do you want with me?”

  It wasn’t a promising opening, PJ thought. “Sheriff, I know what happened to Chip Greene.”

  “He drowned.”

  PJ sighed. “Right. But Alex Tate had nothing to do with it.”

  “The courts seem to agree with you, if the judge who sat at his bail hearing has anything to say about it. This is old news. Why are you really here?”

  “I need you to take a look at something.”

  PJ slapped an eight-by-ten of Constance Norton pushing the dummy into the creek in front of the sheriff.

  “What’s this?” He picked up the picture. “Is that a dummy? Where is this? Where did you get this?”

  “Sheriff, please watch this footage with me.” PJ handed him a thumb drive.

  “Hell no, PJ. I’m not stupid. I’m not going to plug some random drive into my computer.”

  “Well, my laptop is in my car. If you let me go get it—”

  “PJ, no. This interview is over.”

  “But—”

  “Get your tail out of here before I arrest it.”

  PJ couldn’t believe the sheriff was being so stubborn. She had thought they were friends. She had thought he had been coming around and warming to the “photo psychic” who had helped his department and the Mayhap authorities so often, not to mention the FBI and DA’s office.

  “Sheriff, why won’t you listen to me? I’m telling you what happened. That night Chip washed up downstream, and Mrs. Norton pushed him back into the water so he drowned.”

  “Slander. Pure slander. If you think for one minute—”

  A new voice, a stark, gravelly woman’s voice, interrupted. “She’s got a point, Curtis. Why won’t you listen to her?”

  Vicky stepped out of the file room adjacent to the sheriff’s office. The door had been ajar, and apparently she had been listening the whole time.

  “Deputy Donnerweise,” Sheriff Denning said. “This is none of your concern.”

  “That’s bull and you know it. Get your head out of your butt, my dear.”

  PJ held her breath. She hoped Vicky’s insubordination didn’t result in her friend getting into hot water with her boss and husband.

  “Victoria—”

  “Curtis, I know you. I know you’re a fair man and as curious as a darned cat. You must want to know what really happened that night.”

  “You have no—”

  “Plus, I make you dinner every night, Curtis J. Denning, and if you ever want your favorite chicken-fried pork chops again, you’re gonna listen, and we’re gonna check out this video.”

  Sheriff Curtis sighed heavily. He looked Vicky up and down. She was standing arms akimbo, clearly set in her ways. The sheriff turned to PJ and looked her in the eyes. He shook his head slowly and spoke with shades of exasperation and defeat plain in his voice.

  “Women.”

  * * *

  Sheriff Curtis wanted to do everything by the book. PJ couldn’t tell if it was because he was trying to give Constance Norton the most benefit of the doubt as possible, or because he wanted no room for Constance to squeeze out of the noose PJ had prepared for her. They arranged an interview for the next day in one of Mayhap’s police station interrogation rooms. Constance showed up with Doc Fred and a lawyer, Renee Milton of Milton and Daughters. PJ felt pessimistic. She knew she had a theory and scant evidence. Everything seemed to hinge on Constance confessing. If she held firm, PJ wasn’t sure what her footage showed. An old woman getting angry at some refuse on her property? Spraying everything in sight with a garden hose? What kind of evidence was that?

  PJ was particularly upset that Detective Jake Tipton would be running the interview. She had to stop protesting though because Sheriff Curtis had threatened to not even allow her in the viewing room.

  “PJ, you’re a bystander. You’re lucky I’m allowing you to be here at all.”

  At 11:15 a.m., Jake, Constance, and Renee were set up in the interview room. It was about the same size as the room PJ had been questioned in, only this room had a large window along one wall, behind which stood PJ, Sheriff Curtis, Doc Fred, and Vicky. Robert had decided to stay out of it as much as possible, hoping his role in procuring the dummy for PJ to use didn’t come to light.

  Constance was in a flowery dress, and Renee was in a three-piece business suit in navy, with a straight skirt that ended just above her shapely knees. Jake was plain-clothed in a brown suit and green tie that favored his eyes. PJ took one look at him and had to blush. After all that—even him almost shooting Mutt—she still found him gorgeous. He had nodded only briefly to her before they went into their respective rooms. It wasn’t an encouraging nod, thought PJ.

  “Please state your name for the record,” Jake said.

  Constance leaned forward and said to the tabletop, “Constance Marie Norton. Mother of Fred Norton. Grandmother to—”

  “Thank you, that’s enough,” Jake said.

  Constance glared at him. Renee patted her arm and murm
ured something to her. It sounded like, “Just answer the detective’s questions as briefly as possible, Constance.”

  “I am Detective Jake Tipton, and this interview is commencing at,” he consulted his watch, “eleven twenty-three.”

  “I am Constance Jackson, and I concur.”

  In the viewing room, PJ snickered. Sheriff Curtis warned her with a look.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled.

  Doc Fred patted PJ gently on the shoulder. “She’s not right, you know,” he said softly.

  “I know,” PJ whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

  Doc Fred nodded. “If she did something, it has to come out. We don’t believe in secrets. Especially if good people are hurt by them.”

  Jake started talking, and Sheriff Curtis cleared his throat. PJ and Doc Fred shut up.

  “Mrs. Norton, where were you on the night of Saturday, March 21 between the hours of ten p.m. and one a.m.?”

  “What’s that, son?”

  Jake repeated his question.

  Constance turned to Renee. “How in the hell should a person be expected to remember where they were on some random date?”

  Jake said, “It was Saturday, a bit over three weeks ago, Mrs. Norton.”

  “So?”

  “It was the night Chip Greene drowned.”

  “Oh. I heard about that.”

  “What did you hear?”

  Renee cleared her throat. “There’s no need for leading my client, Detective.”

  Jake nodded.

  Constance seemed lost in thought.

  Everyone waited. After several moments, Jake said, “Mrs. Norton? Where were you the night Chip Greene drowned? Do you remember?”

  “That night. The nights. I’ve been hosing off out there a lot recently. The dirt seems to keep coming back.”

  “Out where, Mrs. Norton? What dirt?”

  Renee frowned.

  “Behind the house,” Constance said. “There’s dirt out there that never seems to go away.”

  “In the ravine behind the house, is that what you’re saying?”

  “That man was there.”

  Jake sat forward. So did Renee.

  “What man?” Jake said.

  “He left something behind. A shoe?” Constance said. “I heard about it. Or maybe I read it in the paper. I couldn’t get it because the hose don’t reach that far.”

  Jake said, “You found a man behind your house? Or a shoe?”

  Renee held up a hand. “Careful, Detective. Constance, don’t answer that.”

  “Why not? So I found a man. So what? He was on my property. I got him off my property. That’s all I done. It’s not my fault his shoe was still there.”

  Simultaneously, Jake said, “You got Chip Greene off your property?” and Renee said, “Stop.”

  Constance and Jake looked at Renee. She said, “I’m stopping this interview right here. You’re going to have to arrest her or let us go, Detective. You can ask questions through my office later.”

  Jake opened his folder and spun it around. PJ knew that inside was only one thing: the eight-by-ten of Constance pushing the dummy into the creek, cleaning the crime scene as she’d done again and again since that fateful night, like Lady Macbeth, who couldn’t get the dirtiness of murder off her hands.

  “That’s me!” Constance said.

  “Detective, stop. Now,” Renee warned.

  Constance said, “Shut up, Renee.”

  “No, Constance. You need to keep quiet now.”

  “No, I don’t. You don’t know me.” Constance turned to Jake. “Make her leave. I don’t want her here.”

  Jake said nothing.

  Renee stood. “I’ll be leaving, but not without my client. Come, Constance. Please come with me.”

  “No.”

  “Detective Tipton, surely you can see this woman is in no condition to be implicating herself. If you continue, I’ll have everything thrown out.”

  Jake said, “She seems lucid to me, Ms. Milton. And she seems to be saying she rolled Chip Greene off her property into the water.”

  Constance pointed at Jake. “That’s it. That’s it exactly. That man had to leave my property. It’s my property. I got to protect it, don’t I?”

  “Please stop talking,” Renee said.

  “That man was messing up my property.”

  Renee pointed at Jake. “All of this is inadmissible now.”

  “I don’t think so,” said Jake.

  Doc Fred left the viewing room, followed by Sheriff Curtis, Vicky, and PJ. Doc Fred knocked on the interview room door. “I’m sorry, I’ve got to agree with Renee. We need to get her out of there.”

  Sheriff Curtis opened the interview room door. “Time to go, ma’am,” he told Constance.

  “No. I want to talk to the detective. Tell him my side.”

  Then Constance saw PJ. “You!” she said. “You with the yellow eyes. You look just like that cat. And the cat saw it all, she did. Saw the whole thing. She’ll tell you why I did it too. To protect my property. I always have to protect my property from the darn cats and squirrels and dogs, and even men. They’re all messing it up.”

  Sheriff Curtis and Jake looked at PJ, whose stomach clenched. No one said anything for a moment. Then Constance started speaking loudly, her conversation degenerating into crass profanity.

  Renee and Doc Fred together cajoled Constance down the hall with them. She screamed swear words the whole way.

  As Constance’s voice died off down the hallway, Jake said to PJ, “What was she talking about? Were you there that night?”

  “I have no comment,” PJ said, wary of admitting anything to the detective.

  Sheriff Curtis and Jake stared at PJ. “No comment?” Jake said. “That must be a first.”

  PJ sighed. “I think it should be pretty clear what happened. I don’t have to tell you, do I?”

  Sheriff Curtis said, “Constance Norton pushed Chip Green back in the water. But I’m not sure there’s a court in the land that will convict her. What a resolution—a forgetful old lady who might or might not have facilitated Greene’s death. How are we supposed to be happy with this?”

  That was something PJ couldn’t answer.

  — 20 —

  Graveside

  A week later, the sun dipped into the western sky, and PJ stood in the cemetary, casting a long shadow over Chip Greene’s grave. The headstone was simple with just his name and dates carved into its stone surface. Around her, magnolias shed their petals so she was surrounded by a pink, fragrant rain of sorts. Behind her, she saw a moving shadow. It crossed the grass and grew until it was larger than hers. It belonged to a man she knew well, who now stood beside her.

  “Hello, Robert,” she said.

  “PJ. How are you? You picked an interesting meeting place.”

  “I just wanted to pay my respects, now that the whole thing is more or less resolved. Did you hear they arraigned Constance Norton today?”

  “Yes. But, PJ, I can’t imagine she’s going to jail. I bet they’ll work out a deal where she goes to the locked ward of Sunset Gardens or something.”

  Sunset Gardens was Mayhap’s premiere home for aging folks and included facilities for people with advancing dementia, as Constance had.

  PJ shifted from foot to foot. “That’s probably best. We’ll never be a hundred percent sure she actually knew what she was doing when she murdered Chip Greene.”

  “You were right about the whole thing. How do you feel about that?”

  “I’m glad Alex isn’t under suspicion anymore, but I can’t say I feel good about putting an old woman away, regardless of how cantankerous and unpleasant she is.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  “Do the sheriff and Jake still think I lied about everything?”

  “I’m not sure they know what to think. Your investigation helped push them in the right direction eventually. But your story changed so often, and was so hesitant in places, that I do think they still believe you made
parts of it up.”

  “That’s because the truth is so bizarre they would never believe it.”

  “You mean how you were a cat during the entire event?”

  “Exactly.”

  “So what did happen? Tell me the whole thing. You don’t have to leave anything out.”

  PJ briefly looked over her shoulder. They were alone in the cemetery. Still, she lowered her voice so it wouldn’t carry on the tepid breeze.

  “Well,” she said, “most of what I told you was the truth. Only I wasn’t at a distance with light goggles. I was right there with cat eyes, so I saw everything clearly. I filmed the entire thing, too.”

  “Where’s the footage?”

  “I’m getting to that.”

  “All right.”

  “Anyway, Alex was trying to sell Chip candy.”

  “Candy?”

  “Every spring he sells candy bars for an autism foundation. For some reason, he had Chip cornered by the creek that night. Chip was accusing him of being behind the thefts in the trailer park, but Alex was just trying to sell him candy bars.”

  “Huh. That’s interesting. None of that came out during the investigation.”

  “I know. I feel bad about that. Anyway, Chip grabbed Alex, who pushed him away like anyone would. Then Chip stumbled and landed in the water.”

  “What about the shot everyone heard?”

  “I have a theory about that. It’s just a theory, though.”

  Robert scratched his chin. “All right, go ahead.”

  “Mutt smelled the distinctive cigarette smoke of Sheldon Pike. I think he was there, probably with Trent, and I think Sheldon fired a shot from the same gun he chased me with.”

  Robert shuddered. “You’re lucky you didn’t get shot. It wouldn’t take much to hurt a cat very badly, PJ.”

  “I’m fast and small. I’m a hard target to hit when I’m a cat.”

  “Even so.”

  PJ shrugged. “I have no evidence of that, but perhaps you could ask Sheldon about it.”

  Robert sighed. “I already did.”

  “You did? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “You know I can’t talk about open and active cases.”

  “Well, what did he say? Was he there? Did he shoot his gun?”