Ophelia’s eyebrow rose eloquently. “I think you should.”
For an answer, the man lowered the rear gate of the truck and leapt up into the bed. He shoved the freezer once and it toppled out onto the muddy parking lot of the cemetery.
Ophelia hurried out of the BMW and yelled, “Don’t do that! You’re going to hurt him!”
The masked man paused and his eyes were incredulous. “He’s dead, lady. D-E-A-D. Dead as prehistoric dinosaur doodoo. Dead as a missing Catholic schoolgirl. A worm hotel, baby. A little knock on the head isn’t going to bother him much.” With a flourish he looked meaningfully at Ophelia and opened the lid of the chest freezer, as if he were showing her the crown jewels of England.
Ophelia looked inside and began to scream bloody murder.
Long quickly glanced inside and said, “Oh, fuck ME!”
The other masked person opened the door and yelled, “Luke! What the hell is wrong?”
Long Dong Silver, correctly ascertaining that Ophelia was awkwardly struggling for a weapon inside her handbag with her unencumbered hand, ran for the truck’s door.
“Shut the goddamn door, Danalyn!” Long bellowed and the engine roared.
They were nearly a hundred yards away when Ophelia started firing the magnum with her left hand and didn’t stop until she had emptied the pistol. Regardless, she didn’t hit either the truck or its two occupants. So she clumsily reloaded the pistol and emptied it into the hapless chest freezer instead.
Chapter Twenty-Four
From Transitions, pg. 10, Eclipse Magazine, April 11, 1981:
Died. William ‘Bayou Billy’ McCall, 80. The notorious and former fugitive from U.S. Federal authorities died last Friday of complications from kidney disease. He was known to have robbed the Southern Express trains on three separate occasions, as well as the Northern Belle Queen, a riverboat on the Mississippi River, and to have burned down a post office building in his escape attempt. Charges from the federal crime caused him to flee for numerous years and to be placed on the FBI’s most wanted list. Pardoned from a federal penitentiary at the age of 77 by President Gerald R. Ford, he lived in Sawdust City, Texas, and Albie, Louisiana.
From Corrections, pg. 120, Eclipse Magazine, April 18, 1981:
Correction. It was incorrectly reported in last week’s edition that William ‘Bayou Billy’ McCall had died. Mr. McCall remains in critical condition at St. Genevieve Hospital in Tyler, Texas, but has not died.
The Present
Tuesday, July 18th
Sawdust City, Texas
Thaddeus Worth had been a career military man. He had done two tours of Korea for which he was proud. He’d been wounded once and spent the time in a hospital amicably trading gardening secrets with an elderly South Korean porter. The ensuing Viet Nam fight was merely four years spent processing troops in Fort Shafter in Hawaii and the worst thing that had happened to him was a paper-cut boo-boo that had gotten infected. The antibiotics for which had caused a month long bout of backdoor trots that even the commanding general of the post had giggled over. Regardless, he’d retired honorably after thirty years of service at the rank of sergeant major and immediately had been at a loss at what to do with the rest of his life. Thirty years of reveille at 5 am and lights out at 9 pm made for a habitual nature that was next to impossible to alter.
His sister had tendered an offer to live with her in Sawdust City while he figured out what was going to happen. So Thaddeus moved his family there. Some of his grown kids followed and what happened was that Thaddeus never left. His wife died of a heart attack in ’95 and was buried in Resurrection Cemetery alongside one of their other children. Furthermore, he liked East Texas and he liked Sawdust City. As an old Army man, he was used to grit and the town had a lot of grit. It wasn’t afraid to get a little dirty and it wasn’t afraid to have a brawl on Main Street, as long as it got cleaned up toot-sweet and the police came immediately.
Thaddeus had found another career in the lumber industry and retired from that before they kicked him out. Consequently, he’d had little to do in the previous fifteen years but gardening, tending to Thomasina, and keeping an eagle eye on the politicians.
Oh, goodness do the politicians need watching, do they ever? Thaddeus, staunch and perseverant, became convinced that the town was in dire need of an unfaltering Republican constituent like himself. It wasn’t that they needed to be Republican, but that they needed someone to guard their best interests. And who was it that wasn’t watching out for their best interests? Who were the council members in general and specifically the mayor. Pascal Waterford wasn’t the worst of the lot, but he could be likened to the icing on the top of the cake.
The lot of them need a good, hard, swift kick to their collective keisters, he thought, and not for the first time. In fact, the thought had probably occurred to him over a hundred times in the last decade, nearly two dozen of those times in the days since Bayou Billy had kicked his proverbial bucket.
First, Pascal had somehow attained Billy’s body and loudly pronounced a bold plan for Sawdust City’s imminent revival. The townspeople had slobbered like hound dogs on the trail of a particularly juicy bone. Then Pascal had handed it over to Albie for some stupid reason and the city of Albie had loudly pronounced Billy’s body theirs to bury in their cemetery and to hell with Sawdust City. Ophelia Rector was leading the charge like a mob of town folk needing only a pitchfork and a torch. Then someone had stolen the remains and the doodoo had really smeared the oscillating contraption. Waterford stole it, is everyone a moron but me? I even told the police chief to his face, but does any dang body listen to an old man? And he used my truck, MY truck!, I’m going to make Thomasina sorry she was ever born, the addlepated nimbat.
Second, Ophelia had come rip-roaring over from Albie to point her finger and scream threats. And she was pointing the right way, too. But obviously Pascal Waterford was a wee bit smarter than the police chiefs and Ophelia Rector had given him credit for. He can’t be so dumb as to hide it in his own goshdarned house.
Not that that fact had stopped Ophelia Rector from sadistically stomping on Thaddeus’s favorite garden gnome. It was imported from Belgium, he thought glumly. A fresh spurt of anger spurred him. What she had done next was debauched.
Ophelia had written Thaddeus a check. As if he was a common peasant to whom the sight of a little money, a thousand dollars in this case, would send him into undying swoons of pardoning contentness.
Thaddeus’s upper lip curled. When he had taken the check to the bank after the lot of imbeciles had left the Waterford place, he was informed that Ms. Rector, that was what the bank manager called her as if she were a being miles above the rest of the local scum, had already put a stop on the check.
Furious, Thaddeus had considered driving over to Albie to shove the nullified check down her lily-livered throat along with the remnants of the Belgian gnome, when he thought he should give Pascal Waterford a piece of his mind as well. After all, Pascal started the whole thing. The slimy politician was a foul excuse for an inept rapscallion and not fit to exist in the same world as the decent folk. It was only a simple matter of debate on whether Ophelia Rector was slightly higher or lower on the scale of scum-sucking, big toe licking miscreancy.
Thaddeus parked his Ford F-150 in the visitor’s lot of City Hall and watched as Pascal peeled out of the employee’s lot in his Expedition. Not to be outdone or ignored, Thaddeus whipped the truck back out of its slot and followed.
What occurred next began to put an inspiration into Thaddeus that he was almost ashamed to have had. Pascal was in a devil of a hurry. His house had just been searched by the police for evidence of misdoing. They were gone and it was time to possibly cover up. Maybe Thaddeus could catch Pascal in some nefarious act that the voters would be so appalled by that they would have to elect the challenger instead. If Thaddeus was patient, just maybe it would be something absolutely dreadful.
With this shining inspiration of cunning subterfuge, Thaddeus stuc
k to Pascal like stink on a pig. Pascal drove to the old GM factory, went behind it where Thaddeus lost him briefly. Then when the Expedition lurched back onto asphalt, Thaddeus was ready to give chase. It seemed as though Pascal had a lot on his mind and didn’t even notice Thaddeus’s big Ford truck trailing faithfully along.
Pascal drove to Don Swancott’s house. Thaddeus recognized it because it had been the site of many anti-Pascal Waterford campaigns over the previous six months. There the elderly man watched Pascal watching Don struggling to pull a freezer out of his Dodge. When it became readily apparent that Don had injured his back and would be unable to push the freezer into the garage, the councilman struggled into his vehicle and drove off.
“To the doctor,” Thaddeus said decidedly. “Idiot. Didn’t use his knees.”
As Don drove past Pascal’s Expedition, Pascal ducked. Thaddeus started to wave at Don but Don’s face was a mask of horrendous pain and Don wasn’t noticing anything except what was the shortest route to the drugs that would bring rapid relief from the pain that was assailing him. Pascal came up in time to see a blue Ford Mustang backing into the Swancott’s driveway.
Who’re these guys? At least they drive American. Thaddeus tapped his steering wheel with his fingers. This is like a Carl Hiaasen book.
The two men from the Mustang grappled with the contents of the freezer for some minutes before resulting to using garden tools from Don’s garage to pry it out. Pascal watched the two men struggle. Thaddeus watched Pascal watching. Also he watched the two men.
Thaddeus couldn’t quite understand what was so interesting about the chest freezer. It finally took the creative use of a barbeque spatula and a garden hose to free the contents from its icy prison. They put the garbage bag wrapped thing in the back of the Mustang and drove off.
Naturally Pascal followed. So more than naturally Thaddeus followed. It was quite like a parade. If his prostrate ridden bladder wasn’t troubling him, he thought he might very well enjoy himself.
The troop of vehicles drove to Albie, three Fords in a row. The two young men in front didn’t pay attention to Pascal in the middle and Pascal in the middle didn’t pay attention to Thaddeus in the back.
They parked the Mustang in front of a house. Pascal parked down the street and Thaddeus shrewdly stopped just around the corner where he could see everything. I’m getting good at this spying stuff. Got to write Tom Clancy a letter about this. He ain’t got nothing on rural East Texas.
The two men got out of the Mustang, argued for a minute and then went inside, leaving the contents of the trunk in the growing Texas heat. Pascal dithered for a while and then gunned the motor on the Expedition. He arranged the SUV beside the Mustang so that both back ends were pointed in the same direction. When he got out, he had a crowbar in his hand. It was obvious that he intended on gaining entrance to the Mustang through foul means.
However, Pascal discovered that the trunk was open and the crowbar was discarded into the depths of the Expedition. Quickly, he pulled the bundle out of the trunk and put it in the back of the SUV.
Oh, just what in the name of Jehosaphat is that that’s so dadgummed important? Thaddeus chewed on his lower lip. What do you put in a freezer that so many fellas want to get their hands on?
Pascal drove back to Sawdust City with the speed of a man who had to find a potty that makes him all warm and fuzzy. Thaddeus could see that the man was irresolute as he drove around the town meanderingly.
Trying to find a good place to put it, Thaddeus thought. But what is…oh. There was the abrupt clarity of a beacon shone directly into his faded blue eyes. Oh. Oh, I done told them foolish people that he took Billy. He took him, then someone double-crossed him and Don Swancott came to the rescue and then someone else happened. What it all boiled down to was that Pascal Waterford had committed a felony, and not only a felony, but an icky felony. He chuckled wickedly. Now I got you, you son of a snot-nosed, weasel faced Democrat.
Thaddeus didn’t have a cell phone and he didn’t dare take a moment to stop and phone the police so he followed Pascal around until Pascal made up his mind. Finally, the mayor drove to a rundown part of Sawdust City, one of the older sections and pulled up in a decrepit driveway of an even more decrepit house.
Thaddeus could see the name on the mailbox and nodded in reluctant admiration. Ain’t no one going to look for Billy there. Sure ‘nough.
So Pascal hid the body inside and then out of sheer perversity Thaddeus followed him back to Don Swancott’s house where he retrieved the chest freezer. Pascal took the chest freezer back to where the body was and unloaded it into the house. Gonna put Billy back in it, I reckon, Thaddeus thought. Keep that old boy on ice. Ew.
When Pascal drove off again, Thaddeus stayed where he was, studying the house with the alacrity of a hungry soldier eying K-rations and the only can opener within miles. It had been in his mind to call the police and let them deal with it. He’d bear stalwart witness against Pascal Waterford and that would be the end of his political career. The masses would cheer. Certainly, Thaddeus would cheer.
Or would it?
With a lip curling sneeringly, Thaddeus came to a bitter realization. He didn’t understand it, but folks around those parts liked the drunken womanizer. They liked him a lot. What they really liked about him was that he was trying to do something good for Sawdust City, something that would make a difference in the town’s survival. The fact that everyone and his brother’s second cousin had a durned good idea that Pascal had stolen the outlaw’s body back from Ophelia Rector didn’t detract from the good feeling directed at Pascal.
If he were arrested for the deed, they might even say he was a genuine hero. Thaddeus blanched. If Pascal were arrested for the theft, then Ophelia Rector would get her greedy hands on Bayou Billy. Thaddeus blanched harder. God forbid that uptight, arrogant, panty-waisted, snooty twat should get her hands on something that she wanted so frantically.
Then Thaddeus came up with an idea that made his earlier notion seem as innocent as a month old baby with a milk smeared mouth and a spit stained binkie. I’ll steal the body from both of them. I’ll steal it and dump it in a swamp. Ain’t no one gonna have Bayou Billy ‘cepting some snapping turtles. Screw both them assholes.
However, he felt a minor bout of angina about to crop up and his bladder was feeling like it was a balloon next to a needle. Thaddeus headed home to get some rest and take his pills. He would come back the following day when he was all rested. Also he would bring his furniture dolly.
•
Wednesday, July 20th
Thaddeus was in calmly content spirits. After a mild battle of wills over a stray cat-feeding issue with his sister, Thomasina, and the fact that she was tossing out whole boxes of Cheerios to the felonious felines, he had the dolly loaded in the back of the truck and he was ready to go take care of business.
Then the young woman had wandered over from the Waterford place and asked for some stuff to make pancakes with. Thomasina had been pleasantly and obliviously ignorant as to the point of origination of the woman. Oh, goodness gracious Aloysius, she’s one of his floozies.
However, she didn’t look like the usual kind of woman that Pascal had around. To be perfectly truthful, she had pretty blondish-brown hair and a pleasant smile, and she was too polite to be for real. Thaddeus had given her the evil Worth eye and strappingly stood his ground. If one of Pascal’s women had a notion to come traipsing over then there was bound to be a herd following and God alone knew what would happen then. Anarchy.
Of course, Thaddeus’s medication hadn’t yet kicked in and the incident caused a diminutive bout of angina put him in his La-Z-Boy for the next hour or two. By the time he felt well enough to move the sun was well and truly up and he realized he needed to make tracks. He took the Ford truck over to the house to which Pascal had made his scurrilous delivery.
“Well what the hellfire and brimstone now?” Thaddeus grumbled. Someone was already there. There were two trucks. One was a full
sized Chevy with a business affiliation listed on the doors. One was a mini-truck, another Ford. Two women and one man loaded up what appeared to be random crap from the house. So Thaddeus waited for them to finish, hoping that the freezer and its contents would be left alone.
However, it was not to be. The young man and the young woman awkwardly hoisted the freezer into the back of the full sized truck and looked self-satisfied as they finished. The other woman tottered drunkenly about, waving a thermos at the younger pair.
Thaddeus tapped fingers on the steering wheel. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what was going on. At his advanced age, he had seen enough people die to know what happened when a poor soul passed. It came down to the simplest of equations. Their relatives got greedy. Not just a little greedy, but a lets-go-clean-out-their-house-and-look-for-their-collection-of-Lincoln-pennies-and-don’t-forget-the-dustballs greedy.
It was precisely why Thaddeus had a will and it was spelled out to a ‘t.’ And he had long since made sure that all of his children were aware of who was getting what. There would be no arguing over who was getting the china or his collection of Korean ivory erotic figures. And if one of them didn’t like it, then they would be invited to go to the fiery depths in a handcart soonest.
With growing impatience, Thaddeus watched the trio finish their dealings and circumspectly followed them to a trailer park. There he parked in the street and observed the unloading process. Darn it, he thought irritably. That’s my carcass. That’s my revenge they’re carting around like it was old luggage.
“I don’t have to take this,” Thaddeus declared aloud. He was a military man and it was high time he started acting like it. He had done two tours in Korea and had the colostomy bag and one Purple Heart to prove it. He might not know anything about who was taking the corpse of Bayou Billy and why they were putting him in a ramshackle trailer park, but he knew that he had priority.
Life and Death of Bayou Billy Page 31