Over Her Dead Body

by Bradley Bigato

  “I like it here. I can’t really explain it, but I feel like a piece of me belongs here. I kind of feel drawn to it. Is that weird?” April was holding his hands in hers and looking up at him.

  “No. I mean yes it is weird, but I’ve been having a sensation of something. It’s almost like I’ve been here before. I guess something draws me to the place too. It appears that we are both weird.” He said with a laugh.

  “Are you making fun of me?” She said.

  “Would I do that?”

  April punched him lightly in the chest. “You better stop it.” She said playfully. “So what are we going to do?”

  “Well, if you are set on this place, and I can see that you are, then we should put an offer in. We’ll shoot for ten thousand below the asking price and hope they counter offer with five below. Would that suit you?”

  “I don’t want it if you don’t. I want us both to be happy. We can look at some more places…” April’s face had a sad look.

  Michael’s heart was warmed by what she said. He could see that she really wanted this house and he was moved by the fact she would give it up for him. “You know, I would be happy anywhere with you. As long as I have a place to put my recliner, a garage to work in, and a backyard to barbecue in, I’m in heaven. Besides, as you pointed out, there are woods to hunt in, and plenty of gardening space and wildlife. The price already isn’t bad. I say we go for it.”

  April’s face lit up and she hugged him again and then started jumping up and down. In the next room a smile spread across the realtor’s lips. Three down and the month’s just beginning.

  Chapter 4

  It had only taken about three months to close on the property and get moved in. April’s sister and Michael’s parents all showed up to help move the boxes into and out of the moving truck. There was a barbecue and it became a fun event. Two weeks after that, the boxes were unpacked and everything seemed to have a place. April had made the house into a home. Michael had put up shelves, hung pictures, and made a mancave out in the garage. April had painted, decorated, and added the personal touch that only a woman can, to give the home a cozy cottage feel. April had put bird food out and had regular attendance from blue jays, cardinals, and squirrels. Michael had walked the woods and found signs of deer tracks. They were both settling in very happily. Until the fourth Tuesday night.

  Sheriff James Watley, was out for a late drive on the back roads. He was feeling restless and cooped up. He wanted some country air. There was a bridge out this way that had been getting vandalized most likely by some rowdy teenagers and he was hoping to catch them in action so he could get them started on getting the graffiti cleaned off. There were words stenciled in like Asshole and Fuck. That was typical of bridges out in the country, but they got him involved when one of them wrote: for a good time call Mary B. and then added a phone number. I’m sure they thought this was a funny joke, but Mary Beaton’s mother did not and made sure the sheriff knew it when she called in to complain. “Don’t you guys ever stop any crime?” She had said, “get off your lazy asses and patrol something for God’s sake. Maybe… I don’t know, you might actually prevent some crime? My daughter’s getting calls from perverts. If you don’t do something, then I will!” And with that, Sherriff Watley figured he better get it cleaned up. He’d picked up a can of black spray paint to blot out the name and number, but would prefer to catch the perpetrators in action so they didn’t continue doing it.

  Up ahead in the road, Sheriff Watley could see a reflection of metal almost like a vehicle in the middle of the road. There were no lights on. It’s probably some tractor. The sheriff thought as he slowed down and approached slowly. It was a truck, stopped in the road with no lights on and the driver side door open. The sheriff reached over and grabbed his flashlight and directed it toward the cabin of the vehicle. Nobody home. At that, the sheriff pulled up ahead and did a three point turn and came around behind the truck so he could call in the plates.

  “Base.”

  “Go ahead.” Came the sweet voice of Leah Ashley. Leah was a heavy set gal with long brown hair and pretty brown eyes. It was always nice to hear her voice come across the radio because she was always in a good mood.

  “Got a Ford pickup abandoned on Cherry Blossom Road by the old Danken house.” Charles Danken had passed away about a year ago. Jenice Danken had held onto the house for a while, but was unable to keep up with all the work on her own. She had finally succumbed to family requests for her to move into a retirement home. Last Watley had heard she had moved into Wondering Garden’s Retirement Home in town and was doing well. He had also heard the Danken house was sold not too long ago, but wasn’t sure who had moved in.

  “James, you gonna call the plates or keep me in suspense the whole night.” Leah said across the radio.

  “Ya, ya…don’t get your drawers in a bunch.” The sheriff peered ahead at the plates.

  “You can’t bunch whatcha ain’t wearin sweetie.” Leah retorted. James made a face.

  “Too much information Leah. You ready?” He asked.

  “Go ahead Darlin.”

  “5, 4, Echo, Delta, 7, 6, Frank.” The sheriff called out the plates into the radio.

  “The truck is registered to one Michael Bander. 3274 Cherry Blossom Road. Yep, the old Danken house.” Leah said.

  “Bander…” Watley said. “Is that Larry’s kid?”

  “I believe so. I think I heard he had a boy named Michael.”

  “Huh.”

  “Is the truck off the road?”

  “No. It’s right plumb in the middle of the lane. With the door open.” The sheriff looked down at his watch. 11:58, almost midnight.

  “That’s just weird. Well, watch your six cowboy.”

  “Will do. Out.”

  The sheriff got out of his car, put his hat on and grabbed his flashlight. He left his lights on so nobody would hit the car from behind. He walked around the blue Ford pickup looking it over carefully. There was nothing to indicate an accident. Probably got out to take a leak and hid when he seen me coming. The sheriff thought. Would make sense if he’d been drinking. He wouldn’t have wanted a DWI charge. The sheriff pointed his flashlight down the road past his car. The Danken house was no more than fifty yards south of here. These woods are probably part of the property. Who would get out and take a leak fifty yards from their home? It just didn’t make any sense. Sheriff Watley moved his flashlight over the woods looking for somebody. Nothing. Maybe he saw an animal and went to investigate. Hell it wasn’t a mile up the road a few weeks back that the sheriff had come across farmer Dirby rounding up some cattle that had gotten loose late at night. There must be some logical explanation. The sheriff reflected that law enforcement such as himself often jump right into worse case scenarios. It often blew things out of proportion, but it kept him alive for the times when it was the worse case scenario. With that in mind, he walked toward the woods slowly with his left hand holding the flashlight and his right hand unsnapping his gun and resting his hand snugly on the grip.

  What was it about woods in the night? Sheriff Watley was contemplating the question as he felt a small breeze and the hair on the back of his neck stood up. He had the heeby jeebies. As an avid hunter, he had spent many mornings and many nights in the woods and it never ceased to amaze him how you never quite get used to how it makes you feel. All your senses are on alert. You can feel the presence of the world as if the whole forest itself were alive. You didn’t just feel like a predator, but like prey as well. That’s how he felt now anyway. Vulnerable. Sneaking up on some unknown situation at midnight in the middle of the damn woods. Should have stayed in town. He thought as he forged deeper into the woods.

  A brush of wind whipped across Sheriff Watley’s neck sending a cascade of goosebumps from his neck on down to his arms as he ventured a little further into the woods. His Maglite was bright and he used it to look around. The problem with looking for trouble in the dark was that you have no peripheral vision. A person could se
e more in the daytime with one eye than you could at night with two eyes and a flashlight. But he had been through this before. Nine out of ten times you find a car or truck running on the road, the person just got out to take a piss or crap. Or puke. Or all three. So, he really expected to find this guy just doing his business and that he just couldn’t hold it. Some officers wrote citations for public indecency. He just couldn’t understand that. Who the hell hasn’t had to stop their car on a long trip occasionally to either get out and take a piss or let your kid out to go? What kind of idiot moron officer could really write a citation for that? An asshole kind that’s what. And there were plenty of them out there. The worst of it is now these poor folk just trying not to piss themselves are considered by law to be sexual predators and have to inform neighbors, schools, and law inforcement every time they move. They become humiliated, alienated, and victims of hate crimes all for pissing on the side of the road. Good grief. What’s wrong with the world anyway?

  He was about to give up on this side of the road and search the other side when he heard something up ahead. It sounded like leaves crinkling and maybe a soft thudding like something hitting the earth. He pointed his Maglite up ahead. He could just barely make out something. He crept forward carefully keeping his right hand on the butt of his gun. “Hello, who’s out there? This is the Sheriff.” He spoke loud and confident despite his tingly guts. He could definitely make out something up ahead. It almost looked like bare feet. It looked as though somebody was bent over on their knees with their feet tucked under them. Looks like another puking case after all. He thought. Probably another drunk. He moved a little closer.

  “Hello? This is the Sheriff. Identify yourself.” As he got closer, he could see that there was definitely somebody on their knees but it almost looked as though they were digging in the dirt. Their body would make reaching motions forward and then dragging motions back and dirt was being flung backward. They were definitely digging. The sheriff moved closer still. He was nearly up behind the guy now and moved to his right about ten feet out to get a better look. As he moved around the side, he could see the guy didn’t have any pants on. He was a dark haired man maybe in his thirties with a white t-shirt and grey briefs on. He was pawing frantically at the ground. Sheriff Watley drew his gun.

  When an officer pulls his gun, either his life or someone else’s is usually in danger. Maybe it was the dark. Maybe it was the wind. Or maybe it was the half naked guy clawing at the ground in the middle of the woods at midnight, but Sheriff Watley wasn’t convinced that he was safe. He just kind of stood there and watched for a moment. His legs were positioned with his front leg slightly bent and his back leg straightened. He was positioned for stability and braced to dart in any direction if the situation called for it.

  The man on the ground acted unaware that anyone was in his presence. He continued on pawing at the ground and flinging dirt. He was mumbling something. It was almost a sob really. Sheriff Watley couldn’t be sure but it sounded like “Mayuh” and then he would dig even harder. The man seemed relatively clean cut. He had dark curly hair and dark but short stubble on his face. He just kept digging absentmindedly as if the sheriff wasn’t even there. “Excuse me.” The sheriff said sternly. There was no reaction.

  “Sir I need you to stop what you are doing and stand up slowly.” Still no reaction. The man continued to dig at the ground. Shit. He thought. This guy is either drunk or has completely gone nuts. Either way, that still made him dangerous. The sheriff tried again. “Sir. I need you to stop digging and stand up slowly.” Still no reaction. The sheriff moved in closer and pushed the guy over by pushing his foot against his shoulder. It wasn’t a kick, just a push. The guy fell over still making digging motions while lying on his side. He mumbled something again that sounded like “Mayuh” and righted himself and went back to digging. He didn’t even take one glance at Sheriff Watley and the sheriff had a pretty good suspicion that the man was unaware of his presence. “Sir!” The sheriff said louder this time. No reaction. The sheriff pointed his gun in the air and fired. The shot that rang out was deafening. The man stopped digging.

  The man looked straight up and then toward the sheriff. The light appeared to blind him and he tried to shield the light with his hand. “What the…where am I? Who are you?” The man said and looked down to see that his hands were deep in soil.

  “Sir, you need to stand up slowly and keep your hands where I can see them.” The sheriff said sternly.

  “I don’t understand. How did I get here? Where am I and who the hell are you?” The man began to stand up while keeping his hands visible. “And can you not shine that damn thing in my face please?”

  The sheriff lowered the light a little so it wasn’t blinding the man, but allowed enough to still see his face. “I’m Sheriff Watley and you are clearly intoxicated. You’re truck is parked on the road and running. I found you here without your clothes clawing at the dirt. Can you tell me how you got here sir?”

  The man looked around a little trying to evaluate his surroundings. He didn’t recognize them. It was pitch black and hard to see. “I don’t know how I got here. Where am I?” he said again.

  “What’s your name sir?” The sheriff said shortly.

  “Michael. Michael Bander.” A gust of wind pushed past and Michael shivered in it. He couldn’t understand how he had gotten in the woods with his clothes off.

  “And what is your address Michael?” The sheriff asked.

  Michael looked around again and then back toward the light. He couldn’t even see the guy except to make out a silhouette. “I live on Cherry Blossom Road.” He said.

  “Where at on Cherry Blossom?” The sheriff continued gathering the information.

  “I live at 3274 Cherry Blossom Road. Now where am I and how did I get here? It’s cold and I need some clothes.” Michael was becoming agitated.

  “You’re in the woods about fifty yards from your house. As I was saying, your truck is parked on the road with the door open. Let’s get back to my car and I’m sure we can sort this all out. Just start walking that direction and keep your hands above your head where I can see them. Understand?”

  “Ya, I got it. I didn’t do anything wrong though. I really don’t know how I got here.” Michael sounded a little whiny. He was hurt by the idea that somebody was treating him like a criminal. Like he would really harm anybody. Who was this guy?

  “I’m sure there is a logical explanation. We'll get to the bottom of it. Let’s just get moving shall we?” The sheriff pointed his light in the direction and Michael began to walk. You’re drunk and you blacked out. That’s the logical explanation we’ll get to once I’ve given you a breathalyzer. The sheriff thought. Michael kept walking wincing and making oww sounds as he stepped on twigs and hard rocks. He was moving slowly because of his bare feet. What a dumbass. How drunk do you have to be to end up out here naked and barefoot? The sheriff thought as he followed behind. He kept his flashlight just up ahead of the guy but made sure the light touched him enough to keep an eye out for any sudden movements.

  “I haven’t been drinking if that’s what you’re thinking.” Michael hollered back over his shoulder. “The last thing I remember is lying down to sleep next to my wife.”

  “I’m sure you’re right. I still have to check…you understand I’m sure.” The sheriff repeated. He sure hoped the guy was drunk because if he wasn’t then he was liable to find the wife murdered or something crazy. He just had a feeling. Guys just don’t go digging in the woods at midnight with no clothes on unless they are either drunk, high, or had a mental breakdown. He was still betting on drunk though.

  Michael stumbled through the woods. Every step was like needles in his feet. A couple of times he stubbed his toe on a rock and almost went sprawling into the darkness. How the hell did I get here? He wondered. If I was him I would arrest me. The thought didn’t lighten his mood. What would April think? Did she know he was missing? Is she ok? What if someone had broken in and hit him over
the head and drug him out there? That wouldn’t explain the digging though. Michael tripped over a branch and just caught himself before falling.

  “Keep your hands up in the air please.”

  “I’m not going to hurt anyone,” Michael said, “and I’m not drunk!” He was sure he wasn’t on the good side of the sheriff and who could blame him. It just didn’t make any sense. God I hope April is ok…and I hope she knows what the hell is going on.

  Michael stepped out into the clearing with the sheriff right behind him. He could see the car behind his truck. It looked like his truck anyway. He had no idea how it got there though. He had no memory of driving or being driven. This was weird. Something wasn’t right.

  “You need to step toward the back of my car and around to the driver side.” The sheriff said as he walked. He still had a flashlight in one hand and his gun in the other. He wasn’t taking any chances.

  Michael walked up to the sheriff’s car and rounded the back side. He was really cold and the pavement was burning his feet as he stepped onto it.

  “Put both hands behind your back and lean forward onto the trunk please.” The sheriff said.

  Michael turned around with his hands still in the air. “Am I under arrest officer?”

  “Until I can determine whether or not you are intoxicated and why you are in the woods at night without your clothes…yep, I would say it’s safe to say that you are under arrest. I’ll read you your Miranda rights later. Right now just do as I asked.”

  Michael put his hands behind his back and leaned forward onto the trunk. He had never been arrested before. This might be kind of funny if he actually had any idea about how he got here. But as it were, he was cold, in pain, confused, and now humiliated. How much worse could it get? He could only think of one way…Please be ok April. “I need to call my wife.” Michael said as the sheriff put the cuffs on his hands. The metal ground into Michael’s wrists and he gritted his teeth as they bit into his skin.