The River Waits for Murder

by C. Ruth Daly

  Glynda set the square foot box on the office desk with the four corners of the cardboard top carefully tucked one into the other. The bottom of the box had dark spots and water stains ran partly up the sides.

  “So, this is a treasure, Glynda?” Donna smirked, “Well, open it and see what’s inside.”

  Glynda lifted from the middle and the box opened, to reveal a full plastic grocery bag and pulled it out, placed it on the desk, then looked at Evan and Donna as if she were detonating a bomb.

  “Just undo the plastic tie, Glynda. Why’re you so hesitant?”

  “You do it, Donna.”

  Donna sighed, pulled the knot and opened the bag to reveal pictures and thick envelopes. “Wow, guys, check this out.” She showed them a black and white photo of a young man of about sixteen, sitting on a horse smiling ruggedly for the camera as he held steadfastly to the reins. Does he look familiar, Evan? What do you think, Glynda?”

  “Who does he look like, Donna?” Glynda wondered.

  “I know who.” Evan’s eyes met Donna’s. “Yup. I saw him in the side mirror that night when we were leaving Thelma’s house.”

  Donna squinted to read the back of the photo where in faded handwriting were written the words, Freddy, age 15. She rummaged through the box to find more photos and pulled them out, then the envelopes—there were three.

  “Check these out guys. They’re pictures of Thelma with this Freddy and who’s this woman, Glynda?”

  “I think that’s her mother. Thelma kept a picture of her mom on a locket around her neck. She showed it to me once. She sure was close to her mom.”

  “Who is this guy?” Donna queried, “What do you think, Glynda?”

  She shrugged, “Don’t know, Donna. Let’s open these envelopes and see what’s inside.”

  Donna opened one. The flap was tucked into the envelope and it had not been sealed, and she pulled out a thick parcel of folded papers. “Well, this is the deed to her house and the farm. I can’t believe she kept it in a box in some tunnel in her basement instead of a safe deposit box.”

  “Well, that’s just the way Thelma was, Donna. She didn’t trust no one—especially the banks. Don’t know why,” Glynda opened the sealed envelope carefully to reveal two birth certificates and one gold trimmed record of baptism from the Presbyterian Church. Fredrick David Carson, July 6, 1950. “Oh my God, guys…I thought Thelma said he had died.”

  “What, Glynda. You don’t mean Thelma had another kid besides Hollis? Holy shit. That’s hard to believe. Who’s the father of this one?” Donna asked, her voice full of contempt.

  “Well, you might find it hard to believe, but Thelma was a looker in her time and had a few boyfriends. She didn’t just get knocked up by that coach in high school. Years later she slept with—don’t tell anyone—but she had an affair with the Presbyterian minister. Can you believe it? You can’t tell a soul. He moved on—just like Ned Hollis’s dad, and well, Thelma said the baby died. She never talked about him. That means that this Freddy still visited Thelma and maybe he lived on the farm. I guess. I wonder where he could’ve been living.”

  “What do you think, Donna?”

  “I have no idea, Glynda. This is so weird. Hey, check this out.” Donna held a photo of a slightly older Freddy standing in front of some barracks with the sun shining overhead and a few other young boys in the background. “This one looks like he may have been in the Job Corp. But where would he have spent his formative years, guys?” Donna rummaged through the pile of papers and pictures and scrounged for further evidence of Freddy Carson, post Job Corp. “Wow, these are letters. See this one?” Donna carefully opened it and read the poorly scripted sentences. “Looks as if Freddy wrote to Thelma on occasion. He either had a learning issue or he was barely educated.”

  “Well, I’ll tell you more dirt on Thelma. God rest her soul. Thelma told me so much, guys. I sure did grow to respect her. Anyway, she had trouble in school but because of her looks, she was able to get by.”

  “So where’d this Freddy guy grow up?” Evan piped in, “I think we need ta watch out for him if we run inta him again. Do you think he’d kill his own mom? I can’t imagine doin’ that. But Donna, I ‘member you tellin’ me ‘bout them crazy people you’d work with—what was they called?”

  “Do you mean sociopaths, Evan? I did mostly drug and alcohol counseling. I maybe met just a couple sociopaths when I did that brief stint in the prison. If this Freddy guy—assuming that’s the guy who trailed us from Thelma’s, is a sociopath, well he may have killed Thelma—but why? What do you know, Glynda? Why’d he do that—if he did?”

  “Well, Thelma was always tight-lipped about whatever she inherited from Hollis. Oh, crap. I never thought, but she did give most of it to the Presbyterian Church.

  “She really was involved in the church, Glynda. Hey guys, check out this.” Donna held a crumpled black and white photo in front of the two of them. “This may explain a lot.”

  “Wow, how old do you think he is in that picture, Donna?”

  “Maybe ten, Glynda. Well, Evan, you are right. Freddy here has some mental illness. It’s a shame. People were so institutionalized back then. It’s different now—not as many at least.”

  “Where is that place, Donna? I can’t hardly make it out.”

  She squinted through the creases to read the sign in front of the large brick building. “Oh wow. It looks like he was in Louisville—Kentucky—I believe. Poor Thelma, Glynda. She lost both sons—and her mom. She was lucky to have you.”

  “Well, Donna, I thought a lot of her, too. We shared something special when we spent that night in the woods and I still don’t know how I dragged her out of the trailer. I know she was coming around so she walked some, too. That sure seems like a long time ago, and now look at this. Here are the three of us and Lori Bell almost dead. Trevor suspected of murder and now two murders in the county. I think we are cursed you guys. I don’t know, Donna, but I don’t want to hurt your feelings or nothin’ but I think—well, you’re jinxed.”

  “Glynda, thanks,” Donna smiled, “My mom said basically the same thing. I believe it’s a coincidence. I think it’s the gold and greed that’s causing all of this tragedy—not me.”

  “Donna’s right, Glynda. It ain’t her fault. When we was in Arizona, she did nothin’ but good and no one we knew died or was murdered, right Donna?”

  “Thanks, Evan,” Donna smirked, “You’re right. Maybe I’m not some kind of curse.”

  They were done rummaging through the box, having found all they needed to find. “Don’t you think we should turn this over the authorities, Glynda? What was Thelma’s request? She did entrust you with her worldly goods. Does she have an attorney?”

  “I don’t think she did, Donna. She just had her box.” Glynda smiled.

  Evan picked up a folded paper left on the desk. “Hey, check it out. This here is ‘er will. Why Glynda, she left you her estate.”

  “Huh? No way! I can’t believe that. Lem’me see, Evan.”

  “Bless her heart,” tears came to Glynda’s eyes. “I do remember when she told me I was like the daughter she never had and my boys were the boys she never got to raise.” Glynda buried her face in her hands and softly wept, while Evan put his arm around her to comfort her.

  “There, there, Glynda, it’s okay. She’s in a better place now. You sure did a bunch fer her. You’s the one with a good heart.” Evan pulled her closer and stroked her back.

  “Evan’s right,” Donna added, pretending not to notice that her two friends had become more than friends, “I think it is time to give this to the right person. I know Trevor has an attorney and why don’t we turn this over to him.”

  Evan pulled away as Glynda wiped her eyes, “I feel blessed. Now I don’t have to work at that damn laundromat all of the time and I can just raise my boys. Bless that Thelma.”

  “I’m putting this box in the safe and then why don’t we all go have dinner. I’m sure there’s plenty left since the guests a
re so few.” Donna made sure the contents were in the box and the will was safely on top with the plastic handles securely tied, she turned the dial and opened the steel box nestled in the wall, slammed the door and turned the dial. “There. It’s safe. Now let’s get some dinner.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Trevor turned up the radio as he swerved around the turns and bends of the old country roads he knew well as he made his way back to the Burgenton area after leaving his bride in the hands of his now sober and soon-to-be mother-in-law. The resorts were only about thirty miles away and he was anxious to get back. He hadn’t told Donna he was returning tonight. It was an impromptu decision. When Mrs. Jameson arrived early, Trevor snagged the opportunity to take a quick jaunt back to Indiana to protect his investment. He trusted Donna, but the resort was his baby and no one could take care of it like he could. Realizing he hadn’t eaten since breakfast, he pulled into a small drive-in at one of the little burgs on the road.

  While Trevor was munching a burger and watching the teenage nightlife of the town, Evan, Donna, and Glynda had just finished their meal and after helping the wait staff pick up, decided to walk off the heavy dinner. The evening was calm and the air sweet smelling with the heat of the day having burned off by evening. The flow of the river was calming and Donna noticed a few of the guests were out and also enjoying the night air. Lanterns swung from ropes stretched across the pathways and The Oasis bar gleamed in the center of the resort, beckoning those who thirsted for a nightcap or anything to wet their palates after spending the day in the scorching Indiana heat.

  “Trevor really did create a beautiful spot,” Donna remarked as the three of them strolled about the grounds.

  “Ya know, Donna. I haven’t had a drink in twenty-six days. I don’t miss it.” Evan said as they walked past the bar, “I sure did drink too much. You’s always tellin’ me to go to these programs and well, Glynda here just told me right out to straighten up and life ain’t so bad. There’s a lot to be thankful fer. Right, Glynda?”

  With her head to the ground, Glynda nodded, “Uh huh, we have both been through a lot, Evan. Just like me and Thelma.”

  “I’m proud of you, Evan. Glynda, you are remarkable,” Donna sighed, “I guess I can only help strangers and not friends. So what do you guys want to do? How about heading back to Trevor’s office, or do you want to continue to walk the grounds?”

  “It’s nice out here, Donna. Why don’t we just walk around? Sure aren’t too many people out here. Boy, I bet Trevor’s not likin’ that. Evan, you okay with just walkin’ around?”

  “That’s fine with me, Glynda. Hey, Donna, ain’t that the professor and that Rhonda woman?”

  Donna stopped and squinted in the darkness in the direction Evan pointed and answered, “Yes, and what are they doing? They’re headed into the woods towards the river. What the hell? Is he carrying a shovel? I can’t believe this.” She checked the time on her wristwatch, “It’s close to ten, guys. What do they think they can possibly be gaining from this?”

  “I don’t know, but ya think we should tell them it’s not a good idea? What if we should follow them, Donna? What’re thinking they’re goin’ to do?” Glynda lifted her eyes from the pathway, stopped, and stared at her friend.

  “Fall into a river ‘cause they’re not sure where they’re goin’,” Evan remarked, “They don’t know these parts. I ‘member them like the back of my hand.” He reached behind him to feel the waistband of his faded jeans to find the revolver he so dutifully took from Donna back at the office—after the encounter with Freddy Carson, the two of them decided they needed protection. “Nothin’s goin’ to happen, but us just takin’ a walk in the woods. You two know these woods real good, right Donna? Right Glynda” Evan chuckled, “You’re hometown heroes because of it, huh?” He let loose a laugh.

  Donna silenced him, “Quiet, Evan, if we’re following them we don’t want to be noticed.”

  Rhonda and Steven were out of sight and hidden by the trees. The three of them were twenty-five yards from the start of the woods, and they continued on the crushed rock path and then at the end of the resort, Evan went first and stepped off into the thicket of brush and into the trees while Donna and Glynda followed. The woods were just like Donna had remembered—magical with a hint of mystery to them, not foreboding but serene. Too often did she awaken at night in the Arizona heat and recalled an encounter with Ned Hollis those fourteen years ago. She wondered if Glynda ever had flashbacks.

  “Glynda,” Donna whispered, “Do you ever wake up at nights, thinking about Ned Hollis and that Halloween night?”

  “I sure do, Donna. That’s normal, right? He don’t haunt me ‘cause I wasn’t chased by him, but what really gets me is that stink. That horrible smell of the trailer—aftershave and rot. I don’t know what it was but I still smell it.”

  “Hey, that was my home,” Evan turned around and eyed the two of them. “Ain’t nothin’ sacred?”

  “Shhh…guys, listen. Did you hear something? Maybe it’s Dr. Lucero and his woman. What do you think?”

  They remained silent and in position, listening intently to any sounds heard above the river. The wind rustled through the treetops and little chipmunks could be heard here and there.

  “Okay, I think we can keep moving.” They navigated away from the river having noticed that the low-lying brush had recently been smashed, presumably by the professor and Rhonda.

  Donna was in the lead now, as Evan’s cigarette habit and Glynda’s weight both caught up with them. “Guys, are you with me?” Donna asked as she turned around to make sure she was not moving too far ahead. “Which way should we go?”

  Evan motioned to his left, and away from the water, “How ‘bout this way?”

  Donna glanced over her shoulder to see how far they had come and to listen to sounds from the resort. There were none. The night enveloped them with the faintness of the rolling river. Tree branches rustled overhead while the wildlife of the woods scurried out of their way. “It’s so peaceful out here,” she whispered.

  Crack! The sound of a rifle filled the air and it wasn’t too far away. The three of them ducked and Evan pulled out the revolver, handed it to Donna, and then pushed Glynda closer to the ground. Donna aimed the revolver in front of her and to her left, in the direction of the sound. In the darkness, the sound of fleeing feet on the carpet of the woods came toward them, and Donna turned and motioned for Glynda and Evan to take cover. She did as well, ducking behind a scrub oak. In the faintness of the moonlight, she caught a glimpse of the figure in front of her. It was Rhonda, scurrying through the trees and stumbling over the makeshift path she and Steven had just made. The woman was breathless and Donna popped up and whispered, “Rhonda, stop running. What happened?”

  Startled, the woman jumped back and was struck with panic; she fought at Donna as she tried to contain the frightened Rhonda. Evan came to the rescue and grabbed Rhonda, cupping his hand over her mouth. “Evan, be careful!” Donna whispered, “Rhonda, Miss Davis—you’re okay. Where’s the professor?”

  Realizing she was not threatened, Rhonda calmed slightly and in between gasps for air answered, “He’s—he’s been shot. I—I—I left him,” she stuttered through sobs and brought her fist to her mouth. “I left him.”

  “What?” Donna screeched, “You left him where?”

  Rhonda pointed vaguely in the direction from which she came, “He’s back there on the ground—I think—I—I don’t know. It happened so fast. The shot came out of nowhere. Steven—Steven said he thought he saw someone about fifty yards in front of us off in the trees. There was a little light in that direction. Then the sound and Steven—he dropped to the ground. I just turned and ran. Help me, please!”

  Donna asked, “Can you take us to him?” She reached for the resort radio attached at the waistband of her jeans, Static came from the device, as Donna spoke, “Donna to the resort, can you hear me?”

  She received a series of scratchy tones, then a voice,
“Copy. Donna, this is Glenn,” more static, “What do you…” crackle “need?”

  Glenn, the evening maintenance man had heard her, “Glenn, there’s a gunshot victim—a guest, in the woods to the north of the resort, get an” crackle, crackle, “ambulance quickly.”

  “Oh shit! Copy that. Will do.”

  Like a child, Rhonda pulled on Donna’s arm, “Please! We have to help him.”

  Donna followed her lead and ran through the underbrush, darting between the trees. Evan and Glynda lagged behind, and before she knew it, Donna was hovering over the professor. He was tucked in the fetal position, lying on the floor of the woods. “Professor Lucero—Steven!” She reached down and felt him.

  Gasps came from the victim, “H—elp—me! Please!”

  Donna knelt beside him, her eyes darted in all directions. She didn’t see a light or sign of any human, and reaching over, she gently touched the professor, “Can you walk at all? Where’re you hurt?” The pounding in her ears muffled whatever audible sound came from Lucero.

  “My leg! It’ my right leg.”

  Donna felt the ground around the professor for any dampness, thinking the man was not bleeding, she asked, “Where were you hit?”

  “I think it’s my thigh—I’m not sure.”

  She reached down and felt his pant leg while Rhonda hovered over her head, muttering, “Who did this? Who shot you?”

  Evan and Glynda had caught up with them and Evan offered his thoughts in an attempt to reassure the woman, “Probably just a hunter. That’s all.” He turned to Glynda who nodded in agreement.

  After inspecting both legs with her hands, Donna said, “I’m not feeling anything professor. Are you sure you were shot? Do you think you can walk back to the resort? We have an ambulance coming for you.”

  “I’ll try, Donna. I think I can.”

  Evan leaned over to help him up while everyone else stood back. The faint whirl of a siren crept through the trees.

  Clouds partially covered the three-quarter moon, obscuring most of the trail back to the resort. Rain was on the horizon, and the native Hoosiers knew it would most likely be later in the night when drops would fall.