by Torsten Krol
Finally I got to the bottom and he shot footage of me reaching it and finding nothing. The replay on this tape was going to be very exciting viewing at Homeland Security. I climbed out and he shot the empty hole, then he says he doesn’t need to tape the hole getting filled in again now that it’s been officially established and recorded that the hole is empty. So he can be on his way while I have to fill the damn thing back in again. I was glad about that, because I had to add a little something before shoveling the dirt back in, and I for sure did not want any cop videoing that part of the procedure for Homeland Security to look at.
I walked him back to his car and away he drove. I waited till he’s out of sight then went to dig Dean out of the grass pile. The plastic bags had worked the way they should and there’s very little stink coming through, even so I would not have wanted to pick him up and carry him against my chest like I ended up doing if I was not already filthy dirty. I counted it up and it’s five times now that this pesky hole has been dug out – first by Dean to bury Bree, then by the cops to see what’s down there, then by me to bury Dean, then by me to get him out again, then by me this morning for the fifth and final time, I hope.
I was not gentle in my treatment of Dean, had come to the end of my rope with regard to this guy that had made so much trouble and commotion for everyone. I did not get down in the hole again to lay him out careful like a fellow human being, no, I just dropped him in and didn’t care that he landed all folded over and not laid out straight the respectful way. He had gone and left Bree in the freezer all folded over and undignified so who the heck was he to expect right and proper treatment now that he’s dead. Preacher Bob had got it about right concerning Dean, that’s how I was thinking as I started shoveling dirt down over him watched by curious chickens.
I showered away the dirt and had lunch, then called up Lorraine on my pretty new cell phone. Somehow I thought that if my last call to her had not met with success it was because that was done from the plain old kitchen phone. With the new cell I would very likely get satisfaction, coming at her on a different wavelength so to speak. That was my hope anyway as I pressed those dinky little buttons.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Lorraine, it’s me.”
“Odell, I was just about to call you.”
“Yeah?”
“I’m on my way downtown to the funeral home to make arrangements for Bree. I have to be there soon because they close at twelve-thirty on a Saturday. I can’t do this alone, Odell. My nerves are shot to pieces by all this. Did you see Preacher Bob’s show last night?”
“Yeah, I did.”
“Now it’s happened like I knew it would. Dean has got to be Public Enemy Number One all over the entire country. It’s a disgrace for the family name.”
“Preacher Bob didn’t say his name.”
“But everyone knows who he’s talking about! His name’s in all the papers and the TV news, and his picture. You didn’t tell anyone about the homo part, did you?”
“I said I wouldn’t.”
“Because that would be more than my nerves could stand, if people knew that about him.”
“I won’t ever tell, I promise.”
“Thank you, Odell. You’re being a true friend about all of this. So are you gonna be there at the funeral home to help me out with the arrangements?”
“I’ll be there.”
“It’s on Fifth Street, Regis Galbally Funeral Services. I’m leaving right now.”
“Okay.”
She hung up. I forgot to ask her does it sound different hearing me on the new cell, but I could always ask her later. I got dressed in my best jeans and made sure there’s nothing stuck to the front of my best shirt, then I headed for the truck.
All the way into town I kept thinking about Lorraine. It had been a real thrill to hear her voice again, which proves I am deeply in love, as the saying goes. She was not my ideal kind of woman which happens to be small and thin and dark, when I think about it. Lorraine is big and meaty and blonde, the exact opposite. It has always been a problem with me, this thing about the ideal woman. What does it mean, and why this particular type over some other particular type? I can’t say, but my mother was small and thin and dark so maybe there is a psychological reason for it that should not be looked at too close.
I mean, until I met Lorraine, when I thought of my ideal woman, about marrying and so forth, I didn’t think about my mother as such, which would be kind of sick, I think. No, I would think about Condoleezza Rice strange to say, who is older than me, even older than Lorraine is, but there it is, Condoleezza Rice was the one I thought about being married to for several years now, which I did not tell anyone about because they would not believe me, or they would have said other things that I might take offense at. Condi struck me as being about the smartest woman on the planet and the most decent also, rushing about from one country to the next in her plane fixing things between nations and doing everything she can for world peace and whatnot, all the while looking very trim and smart in her outfits with the pearls and always with a smile. I really like that little gap between her front teeth. I bet she is a very modest lady that does not bignote herself the way some of these politicians do every time they get in front of a camera, like Senator Ketchum does, for instance. No, Condi is not that kind and I respect her for that, and there is also the affection I feel that makes me think about marrying her the way other guys think about marrying some movie star or singer or whatall they never could hope even to carry her garbage out.
Of course I would do my best now that there’s Lorraine not to be thinking so much about Condoleezza. I have not mentioned this till now because there was no need. This kind of thing is very private and personal, the things you think about with regard to women. But now that there’s Lorraine I must not betray her in my heart or mind by allowing myself to think about Condi like I have been doing for some time now, so farewell, Condoleezza, and wish me happiness with another, meaning Lorraine.
I was downtown by then and not too far from Fifth Street when there’s a flashing in my rearview mirror, red and blue so it’s the police. Was I speeding? I didn’t think so but you can’t just keep driving when those police twinkle bars start flashing in your rearview, so I pulled over and waited for the cop to get out and come tell me what I did. When I saw who it was I felt a little chill creep over me because it’s Chief Webb. He come up to my window which I rolled down nice and polite.
“Afternoon, Odell,” he says, and he’s right, the dashboard clock says 12.03. I have not got much time to be with Lorraine at the Gallbladder Funeral Place so this better not take too long.
“Afternoon, Chief .” I gave him a big smile so he won’t get mad at me about whatever it is I did wrong.
“My man come visit you this morning?”
“Yessir, he did, and shot his camera every which way, then he left.”
“You and me need to talk, Odell.”
“Okay.”
“About Dean Lowry.”
“I’d just as soon not, Chief. That’s a topic that brings me a depressive feeling with all this fuss and bother going on now.”
“Depressive? Maybe you think you know about depressive, only you don’t. But maybe after we have a little talk you will.”
“It’s just I have to be at the funeral home right now with Lorraine. She’s making arrangements for her aunt, the funeral and things, and she wants me there to be with her to do that.”
“Is that so? Well, other matters take presidents over stuff like that. Other matters like giving false information to the police in a murder case.”
“Huh?”
“Think back a little, Odell. Did you or did you not tell me you came to the Lowry place on Saturday afternoon when your car broke down? Think careful now.”
That’s what I told him, all right, even though it was a Sunday that I turned up for real. One thing I learned from the cop shows is they hate it when you tell them one thing and then tell them another thing that’
s opposite to what you said the first time. It makes them real suspicious you’re lying, which I was, but not for bad reasons.
“It was Saturday,” I said.
“You’re absolutely sure about that.”
“I sure am.”
“And you’ll swear to that in court?”
“Court?”
“Just in a manner of speaking.”
“Okay.”
“You’re telling me you were at the Lowry place with Dean Lowry on Saturday night, all night.”
“That’s right.”
“Only I’ve been asking around and it seems Dean was somewhere else that Saturday night.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, really. There are witnesses, plenty of them.”
“Witnesses about what exactly?”
“About his whereabouts.”
“I don’t think I know what you mean, Chief. It’s only twenty-five minutes till the funeral home closes and Lorraine’s expecting me . . .”
“Let her wait. Ever been inside the Okeydokey Karaoke Bar?”
“I never heard of it,” I said.
“Well, Dean did. He went there a bunch of times including last Saturday. It’s a known homo hangout. All the fruits like to get up on stage and sing their little hearts out. Last Saturday Dean, he got up on stage and sang ‘Do You Know the Way to San Jose.’ You know that song, Odell?”
“I might have heard it on the oldies station.”
“There was a guy there at the Okeydokey Karaoke with a DVD camera. He shot the whole thing, with one of those little readout things in the corner of the screen, you know the kind, it gives the time of day or night and the date. You can’t mess with those things, it’s built into the computer or whatever runs those things. Dean was there, not at home with you, so now what do you have to say to me about Saturday night, Odell?”
“Well . . . it must have been Sunday, I guess.”
“Sunday.”
“Uhuh.”
“You’re changing your story, is that what you’re telling me?”
“I thought it was Saturday, but if you’ve got this movie with him someplace else I must’ve been wrong about that, excuse me.”
“Excuse you?” He gave me this long look through his sunglasses. “The thing I’m trying to figure out about you, Odell, is if you’re the dumbest son of a bitch I ever ran across, or the smartest.”
I gave him what I wanted to sound like a laugh, only it come out more like a wheeze from some old smoking guy’s chest full of cancer. “I’m just forgetful, not dumb.”
“Is that right.”
“Me and Dean, we got drunk is what happened, so maybe that’s what made me think it’s Saturday and not Sunday.”
“Uhuh. Anything else?”
“Well, if I was a churchgoer there wouldn’t be any problem because I’d remember going to church that day, but I don’t do that so that’s maybe the reason I thought it’s Saturday instead. Is it important?”
“Important? Did you see Preacher Bob’s show last night?”
“Yeah . . .”
“The entire damn nation up in arms about this terrorist murderer that’s threatening to assassinate a well-known public figure, and you want to know if it’s important? You’re just pretending to be stupid aren’t you, Odell?”
“Nossir, I’m not.”
“So you really are stupid.”
“No, what I meant to say . . .”
“Were there other people out there Sunday night, Odell? People that prayed to Allah and had bomb-making equipment maybe? Are you covering up for them?”
“No way, there was just me and Dean and we got drunk on Captain Morgan. I could’ve sworn it was Saturday but maybe I’m wrong...”
“Damn right you’re wrong.” He put a finger in my face. “And don’t think this won’t get reported to Homeland Security. The lies you tell to me get passed along, Odell, and at Homeland they don’t take kindly to liars that try and steer them away from the truth. Those Homeland people, they’re like bloodhounds in pursuit of the facts. No way you’re gonna tell lies and get away with it, not with those puppies on your trail.”
“Okay.”
“So you’re officially changing your story now, is that what you’re telling me? Because to change your story officially you need to come down to the station and make a statement on camera. They need everything captured onscreen at Homeland for their records.”
“Could I do that after the funeral home?”
He gave me another long stare to make me afraid, which it succeeded to do that. This guy is crazy mad at me over nothing at all that I can figure out.
“Okay,” he says. “You present yourself at the station two hours from now and we’ll just see how you want to change the facts around.”
“I don’t want to change the facts, Chief, I’m just saying maybe I was mistaken.”
“Two hours,” he says, stabbing at me with the finger again.
He gave me this disgusted look and went on back to his cruiser which all this time has had the flashers going, so cop cars must have heavy-duty batteries to support all that extra electricity needed. It made people that are passing look across at us too with those lights flashing that way getting their attention, which would have been embarrassing if I knew anyone that’s passing by, which fortunately I don’t.
Chief Webb blasted past me and turned the corner. I started up and drove the rest of the way to the funeral home place feeling very bad about things. I wished Chief Webb could be swallowed by an earthquake or something so he would quit bugging me like he is, acting like he thinks I’m a criminal. That was real annoying, that part, because I didn’t do anything.
It’s already 12.14 when I found the place and pulled up and went inside, and there’s Lorraine dressed real neat talking with a fat guy in a dark suit. She was mad at me too, I could tell, but she kept on smiling at the guy while they talked, then she come over to me and the guy went away into his office or someplace.
“What time of the afternoon do you call this?” she wants to know.
I looked at my watch to tell her but she slapped my wrist, which is peculiar behavior, I think, then she says, “I had to do it all by myself, the selections.”
“Well, I’m sorry...”
“You had plenty of time to get here. I suppose you got lost.”
“No, I got pulled over.”
“You mean by cops?” She looked unbelieving about that.
“Chief Webb, he thinks I’m a liar.”
“What?”
I explained about what happened between Andy Webb and me, including the part about having to go down to the station and record a statement about if it’s Saturday or Sunday I was with Dean because of the DVD made at the karaoke place.
Lorraine didn’t like any of this. “Stick to the drunk story, it sounds better than anything else might. People always fuck things up when they’re drunk, even telling time and what day it is if they’re drunk enough.”
“Okay.”
“That’s bad, though, about the Okeydokey Karaoke. That’s a gay joint. I told Dean never to go there and now some gay guy has gone and DVD’d him singing some stupid song and acting gay . . . Christ, think what the networks would pay for that to show on TV ...I think I’m going to throw up . . .”
I didn’t know what to do. If I had a hat I would’ve offered it to puke in, but in the end she didn’t need a hat, kind of pulled herself together and says, “It’s Andy, he’s hassling you to get at me.”
“Why?”
“Never mind why. There’s been bad blood between us a long time now.”
“But he’s your old friend, you said.”
“Forget it, Odell. What’s gone under the bridge is long gone. Take me to lunch. No, wait, I want you to see the casket Bree picked out for herself.”
“But ...how did she do that if she’s dead?”
“She had a funeral plan, forty dollars a month. She had it forever.”
Lorraine led me over to
a display of coffins all set out in rows. Some of them were real big with gold handles and so forth and plumped-up cushioning on the inside, not that a dead person needs cushions to lie on, but I guess it helps fill out the coffin if it’s one of the big ones. “That one,” she said, pointing. It wasn’t a big one and the polish on the wood wasn’t so bright. “Five grand, including service and burial.”
“Wow, that’s a lot.”
“Bree’s policy is paying for it. Do you like it?”
“It’s okay. She was only small.”
“Do you want to see her? She’s laid out in the other room. They fixed her up real nice.”
“No.”
“Why not? You’re the one that found her, Odell. You’re involved in this. Are you scared of dead people?”
Well, I wasn’t because just this morning I manhandled a dead person and wasn’t scared one bit, only disgusted and mad about all that spadework. But you can’t say that to your intended, so we went in the other room and there she is all right, on a table wearing a dress, even had her shoes on which she didn’t when I found her, I remember those little wrinkled old lady’s feet she has got, so this way is better. “Come closer,” says Lorraine so I did. Bree has got makeup on her face to make her look alive, not that cold white look she had first thing out of the freezer, so that is an improvement, only they put too much red in the cheeks, I’m thinking.
Lorraine sighed, choking back some tears. “She almost looks like she’s sleeping, don’t you think?”