by Leslie Leigh
“I’m sorry,” I said, wanting to diffuse the tension my question seemed to have caused. “The only reason I asked is to get an idea of the resources available to someone like Jacob. I didn’t mean to sound accusatory.”
“And you absolutely did not, Miss Reed,” the Chief said gently. “I appreciate your concern. It must have been a shock, finding him that way. When you become familiar with someone, it hits you harder when something bad happens to them. I understand.”
An ambulance pulled up and two EMTs rolled a wheeled stretcher to the foot of the steps.
“I didn’t touch the body,” I offered.
“That’s good,” the Chief said with a mock-serious expression, as if humoring me. “That’s very good. I’ll bet you’ve watched a lot of those crime shows on TV, haven’t you? As I said, I don’t suspect any foul play here. Isn’t that what they call it on TV, ‘foul play?’ No, I don’t think anybody would try to rob Jacob; after all, the poor man didn’t have a pot to piss in, if you’ll pardon the expression. And there were no cuts or bruises, indicating an assault of any kind.” He turned to the deputy. “Isn’t that right, Jimmy? No trauma?”
“Check,” Jimmy nodded. “No trauma. Just the smell of cheap rot gut…and worse.”
“Do you…is the body checked more thoroughly once it gets back to the station?” I asked, realizing that I’d phrased the question incorrectly and probably sounded stupid.
“Uh, we don’t take the body to the station, ma’am. The ambulance will take it to the coroner’s office in Crawford, the county seat, where they have more resources. Mr. Miller’s body will be examined by a medical professional and if there’s anything ‘untoward about his demise….’” The Chief paused, as if to savor the condescension in his phrasing. “The examiner will then conduct a full autopsy, if he deems that necessary. This is standard procedure, regardless of the social standing of the deceased.”
“Let me give you a hand,” the deputy offered as the EMTs bent to pick up Jacobs’s body. The deputy stepped backwards to steady the stretcher and, in so doing, kicked the wine bottle over, breaking it on the stone step.
“I’m so sorry, Ms. Reed,” the chief apologized. “We’ll get that cleaned up for you right away.”
“That’s alright, Chief,” I said. “If it’s okay with you, I can easily sweep it up. Unless it’s considered evidence, of course.”
“Not really,” he smiled, “but just in case….Hey, Jimmy, what vintage is that wine?”
Jimmy looked confused. “Vintage?” His gloved hand turned the lip of the bottle until the label showed. “Rabid Ray’s Red Froth.”
“I’ll be sure to note that in my report,” the chief said dryly. He and the deputy followed the stretcher toward their car and I tagged along. “Chief, could I ask you one more question? What will happen to Jacob now, as far as a burial?”
The Chief took off his hat and scratched his scalp. “Well, the Department of Human Services will cover the cost for either burial or cremation, as long as the funeral home agrees to the going DHS rate. We have ten business days to put in a request. I’ll check to see if there’s a family member to be found anywhere, but I’m pretty sure he was all alone in this world. If I’m right, then I’ll make the request.”
I was very grateful for the chief’s patience with me. “Thank you so much for all your help, Chief Benson.” I held out my hand and he shook it.
“That’s what we’re here for, Ms. Reed. You sure you don’t want Deputy Jimmy here to help clean up his mess?”
“Positive,” I smiled. As I turned to walk away I could hear Jimmy say something to the Chief, but I couldn’t make out the words. The Chief’s response, however, was loud and clear.
“It’s no different than Animal Control picking up roadkill. Another day, another wino, eh?”
I almost stopped in my tracks, but resisted and instead headed for the entrance. As I stepped over the broken glass, the pungent smell of wine was overpowering. Now, I hoped that it would rain and rain hard.
When Marian came in, I told her the news. “Oh, that poor man, shivering to death with no one around to help him. It’ll take some getting used to, not seeing him around here.”
“I was thinking the same thing” I sighed. “It’s been good for business, though.”
I had never seen so many people in the library, not even on a Saturday. Once I’d finished sweeping up the bottle shards, the onlookers slowly approached the base of the steps. They’d kept a respectable distance while the police and EMTs were on site, but then they drew nearer, huddling together, whispering, likely sharing rumors and speculation. Apparently dissatisfied with the quality of their information, they ventured inside. It must have been daunting, wanting to ask about the sensational details, but a sense of propriety preventing them from approaching a stranger. After all, they didn’t know whether I was their new librarian or the new janitor.
So they shuffled about, a dozen of them, browsing bookshelves or reading items posted on the bulletin board. It might have been their first time inside these walls for some of them. I’ll admit I took some pleasure in their discomfort. I didn’t feel like being a source for their gossip. It was disrespectful of the deceased. I decided that if anyone asked, I’d refer them to Chief Benson.
But now that Marian had shown up, they swarmed on her as soon as we were finished talking. I busied myself with my work, but every time I looked up at the empty chair Jacob favored, I felt a chill.
Chapter 9
During my lunch break, I called Michael, my brother, and told him about what had happened that morning, as well as Chief Benson’s comments.
“Road kill, huh?” Michael repeated. “He said that to you?”
“Not to me, but I heard him say it. So is what he told me about autopsies true? It’s not a standard procedure?”
“It’s the medical examiner’s call. It’s not a standard practice. Has he got family? Family members can request an autopsy.”
“From what I know, he doesn’t. The Chief said he’d double-check. I thought that the police could request an autopsy.”
“We can, but it should come from the Chief, if he feels it’s required.” Michael paused for a moment. “Is that what this is all about? You want me to request an autopsy?”
“Well, what good is it to have a brother who’s a detective if you can’t take advantage of it once in a while?”
“And how would I justify my request? “Because my sister told me so?” I‘d have no reason to piss off the Chief, or incur the expense to the county. Why would you even consider asking me to do that?”
I felt slightly foolish, but tried to explain. “I wanted to verify what the Chief said, that’s all. You’re the one putting words in my mouth. I didn’t know the protocol involved, but now I do. So it’s settled.”
“Okay, don’t get mad, Mel,” Michael said, sounding more like a brother and less like a cop. “If you ever get a speeding ticket, I’ll see what I can do, but – please – no more autopsies, okay?”
Well, if you don’t ask, you don’t learn. I was glad to hear that Michael and his family would be visiting us on Sunday. I hadn’t seen him since Christmas. According to the weather forecast, we would have a respite from the rain. Maybe we could have a cookout.
Later that night, I told Mom about Jacob. She was in the kitchen preparing a tuna salad. She’d already heard about it, of course. News travels fast in Lake Hare.
“Are you the one who found him? Poor dear, are you alright?”
“It was a shock, but I’ve settled down.”
“Well, it may sound harsh, but it’s probably for the best. I can’t imagine what it was like for him, living day to day, not knowing where he’d sleep that night, or when he’d eat. And most likely it would just get worse the older he got.”
I partly agreed with what Mom said, but another part of me was still outraged that nobody seemed to be able or willing to help him. I was about to express that frustration when Mom continued.
�
�To tell the truth, some of the business owners got quite upset, having someone like that hanging around their shops. He’d scare away customers. He was creepy.”
“Well, I still think it’s kind of sad,” I said.
“Of course, it is,” Mom agreed. “It’s a shame the way some people turn out, but what can you do? You can’t fix them once they’re broken. Let’s hope he’s moved on to a better place.”
That was as close to a satisfactory resolution of the subject as we were likely to get. I changed the subject.
“I spoke with Michael today. He said he’s coming to visit on Sunday.”
“I know, won’t that be fun? The whole family will be together. Now we don’t have to wait until Christmas for that to happen.” Mom licked some tuna salad from her thumb. “You know, if you ever want to have company over, you’re welcome to do so. I can always scoot off to another part of the house.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I said, uncertain what she meant. “That’s good to know.”
“I just thought that you might run into old acquaintances – or new ones – and I didn’t want to limit your socializing while you’re here. Have you looked up Gary Van Dyke, by any chance?”
Her expression hinted that she was looking for a reaction on my part. I easily sidestepped her inquiry. “Not yet, but his father did stop by the library. It was good to see him. He says Gary’s staying pretty busy these days, but I’m sure we’ll bump into each other.”
“Well, you could make a little effort,” she replied with a touch of testiness. “You two always got along so well and you both love music. I understand that he’s still single.”
“Good to know, Mom, good to know. Well, I’m going to practice on my concertina for a while. I’ll spare you and practice in my room. Mind if I make myself a sandwich?”
“No, that’s for you. Just save me a little bit. Maybe I should invite Gary over for dinner. How would you like that?”
“Mom, please don’t play matchmaker for me, okay? I swear, if you start, I’ll go live on the street, or shack up in one of those cut-rate motels on the highway. I need you to respect my privacy.”
“Okay, okay. It was just an idea,” she said, defensively. “I just don’t want you getting so wrapped up in your work that you don’t find time for a little fun.”
“I’m going to go have fun right now…playing with myself.” I took the sandwiches and walked away.
“Why do that when you and Gary could be making beautiful music together?” she hollered after me.
Moms…. She meant well, but it appeared the dynamics of our relationship would never change, regardless of how independent I think I’ve grown. Maybe I needed to check rental listings, just in case.
Chapter 10
On Friday, I left the house early so I could make a stop to pick up donuts. The rain clouds, although still present, had parted and the sun was breaking through. We lived close enough to town that I could walk to work, and I hoped that when I found my own place, its location would allow me to do the same.
At 8:00, not many of the businesses along Main Street were open. Several, in fact, wouldn’t open for another month, including the ice cream stand, the miniature golf course and a couple of restaurants. I flashed on how exciting the summers were growing up, with lots of tourists milling about, and all the shops open, the mix of food aromas carried on the warm air. By contrast, during the winters, Main Street looked a little like a ghost town with weeds growing along the fronts and sides of the vacant buildings.
Geri’s Bakery was a welcome exception. I hadn’t been there since summer break in my senior year at college. It was a small place, with only four tables for customers, plus the counter seats, but most of their business was takeout. According to the sign, they served soup and sandwiches up to 1:00.
And there behind the counter was the owner, Geraldine Rafferty. If I’d had any doubts about the quality of their baked items being as good as I remembered, they had now been laid to rest. I waited behind two other customers, scanning the display cases, my mouth watering the whole while.
“Melody Reed, is that you?” Geri smiled. “I heard you were back in town. Haven’t lost your sweet tooth, have you?”
“No way,” I laughed. “Good to see you’re still at it, Geri. I thought maybe you’d gotten tired of getting up at three in the morning and had retired.”
“Hah! Nobody retires anymore, don’t you know that? We just work till we drop, if we’re lucky. What’ll you have?”
She had a very impressive assortment of pastries and it was hard to choose. I’ve always had a weakness for maple logs, so I started with three of those. (Chrissie, our volunteer, would be working today; didn’t want to overlook her.) By the time I was done, I’d chosen a dozen treats before forcing myself to stop.
“So I heard you found that homeless guy, huh?” she asked, while ringing me up. “Ain’t that terrible? Never thought something like that would happen in Lake Hare. That’s more like ‘big city’ stuff.”
“Yes, I used to think so, too,” I replied.
“He used to come around here, Jacob. I’d give him the day-olds once in a while. He never talked, just smiled. Seemed harmless enough to me. Don’t know why people used to get so upset.”
“Upset?”
“Sure. Some shop owners would run out and shoo him away if he loitered in front of their business. Harvey Crane at the hardware used to keep a broom by the front and chase him away. I never heard of Jacob trying to steal anything, unlike that one, for instance.” Her eyes narrowed as she looked past me.
I turned and saw a tall, thin man in a green Army coat across the street. He had tipped the lid from a litter can and seemed to be inspecting its contents.
“I must have lived a sheltered life,” I admitted. “I don’t remember seeing people digging through trash cans or loitering in the library when I was younger.”
“Oh, there may have been some, but either there are more of them now or they’ve become bolder. I’ve heard that several squat on the campgrounds by the lake or out at the state park. Chief Benson’s told me that he’s driven some all the way into Crawford, just to be rid of them. But somehow they’re able to find their way back. You’d think a bigger town like Crawford would offer more resources or work, if that’s what they’re looking for, but you’d be surprised how many of them seem to wander back before long.”
I thanked Geri and turned to leave.
“So have you gone and gotten married yet, Melody?”
“No, not yet,” I said, a little embarrassed at discussing my marital status in front of her customers.
“Well, you keep me in mind when you do. I make the best cakes in town!”
We both laughed. As far as I knew, she was the only baker in town.
Outside, I hesitated, watching the man across the street, wondering if I should offer him one of my donuts. I felt a little guilty about indulging in junk food when someone else had no food at all. At the same time, I wasn’t sure that a donut would be the most practical thing to offer someone in his situation. But he ignored me, intent on exploring the litter can, so I continued on toward work.
A man stood outside Crane’s Hardware. He had a hose running, wetting the asphalt parking spaces in front while he vigorously scrubbed at the bird droppings with a hard-bristled broom. He didn’t look happy, nor did he look up from his task to acknowledge me. Was that Harvey Crane? The hardware store used to be run by a man named Somers.
I needed to get up-to-speed on the changes that had occurred in my hometown. Since we were only open till noon on Saturdays, I decided that I’d undertake a more thorough tour of Main Street tomorrow. Mom could help me fill in the gaps.
When I entered the library, I took the donuts into the lunchroom. I found a platter in a cupboard and arranged the donuts on napkins. Then I noticed an unpleasant odor coming from the trashcan. It was the wine bottle. I should’ve taken it out to the recycling bin yesterday, but I’d forgotten to do so.
I needed to take ca
re of the morning preparations, so I pulled the trash bag, tied it, and placed it in the cupboard under the sink until I could get to it. I heard the back door slam. That would be Marian. I hoped she wouldn’t think that I’d been sipping some – what was the brand? – Rabid Dog Froth, or whatever, as an eye-opener.
The day flew by, and for that, I was grateful. The afternoons are always fun because that’s when the kids get home from school, and some usually trickle into the library. Fridays they’re scarcer; they’ve had their fill of books by then, and today was the first sunny day we’d had since I’d been here.
Molly was the exception. She had visited the library every afternoon this week. Marian referred to her as my “little friend,” though she admitted that Molly had been a regular for quite some time. Marian also informed me that Molly was raised by a single mom who worked in Crawford and got home by 5:30 p.m. each day. Since we were open till 6:00, it all worked out, and I was glad to have Molly’s company.
“And what did you learn in school today, Molly?”
“New words, Miss Melody! Compass: that’s what helps you when you’re lost. Complain: that’s what Brian Donahue does. He hates learning new words. He told me that we won’t even use most of our new words when we get big.”
“Don’t you believe that, Molly,” I said. “You can always use new words. The more words you know, the better you can describe things so people know exactly what you mean. That’s like saying you don’t need a lot of musical notes because you can make a simple song with three notes, like do-re-mi. But if you know lots of notes, you can make a symphony. Do you know what that is?”
“Like Beethoven?” she asked.
“Exactly! And people have loved Beethoven’s music for hundreds of years, so it must be pretty good, huh?”
“Yeah,” she agreed. “He uses lots of these.” Molly pantomimed playing a violin.