by Harper Lin
I scribbled down a few notes and put everything back the way I found it.
As I left the library, I felt as if I was missing something. As crazy as it seemed, I wanted to go back to County Line Road 63 and take a look around now that the sun was up and I had my wits about me. But that confidence quickly left me when I thought about that eerie silence. I didn’t want that kind of quiet. I didn’t want to ever be in that kind of quiet again because it wasn’t just the lack of sound—it was the way it forced you to listen to yourself.
Had anyone ever really stopped and listened to their own breathing, their heartbeat, the blood pumping in the veins, cells dying and cells rejuvenating, muscles flexing and releasing? It was maddening because all it revealed was that the human person was just a machine that would wind down some day and cease to exist. Those sounds are more natural than the squirrels running around on the forest floor. But we don’t hear them because we are too busy living to listen to our bodies slowly dying.
I got in my car and drove to the Brew-Ha-Ha. There, Aunt Astrid was handling the customers, and Kevin Baker was rustling up the grub for the noontime rush.
“Hi.” I slipped behind the counter, kissed my aunt on the cheek, and tied a clean white apron around my waist. “Is Bea in yet?”
“She won’t be in today. Turns out she found out quite a few things from Jake about that part of town, and the two of them stayed up most of the night talking about it.” Aunt Astrid rubbed my back. “But she wants us over to their house tonight for dinner.”
“What is she making?” I grunted. “It all depends on what she is making.”
“Special for you. Veggie burgers. She told me to tell you. Jake will even cook them on the grill.”
“Okay.” I reluctantly gave in. A home-cooked meal, even if it was vegan, was better than SpaghettiOs out of a can.
“Aunt Astrid, you know Bea and Jake didn’t stay up all night talking.” I raised my right eyebrow and looked at my aunt. “Do you need me to explain to you what married people do?”
Aunt Astrid laughed out loud. So did I. It felt good to be around her and forget about the no-name bridge and Evergrave Creek and that awful silence we heard.
But that night, with my notes from the library in my hand, I wasn’t prepared for the next layer of this onion to be peeled away.
Suicide Bridge
“Just keep a sweater on,” Bea told me when I walked in her house to find she had the back porch door open. The cold autumn air wafted in. Along with it was the smell of delicious burgers cooking on the grill.
“Oh my gosh.” I clapped my gloved hands together. “Do I smell hot dogs, too?”
“How can you tell the difference?” Bea shook her head and looked at me. “It’s all on the grill. It all smells the same.”
“I told you she’d like it!” Jake yelled in the house from the grill on their deck.
“Bea, grilled veggies, whether they are in vegetable form or molded into patty form, still smell like veggies. But a hot dog is meat. It smells like heaven. I’ll bet heaven smells like meat cooking on the grill.” Just then, Peanut Butter came rubbing against my leg.
“You agree with me, don’t you?” I asked the cat with my mind.
“Yes. But I do wish they’d close the door. Too cold.”
“I agree with Cath!” Jake yelled from outside.
“You two are really crazy,” Bea replied.
“No, Bea. You and I are crazy,” I clarified. “For going out to that county line road last night,” I said in a whisper, jerking my thumb in Jake’s direction. “What were we thinking?” I wasn’t sure what she had told him about our little adventure, but I didn’t want to be responsible for the big reveal if she hadn’t mentioned it.
“He knows, but he wasn’t happy,” she replied while handing me a stack of paper plates and napkins to set around the counter.
Bea had a wonderful island in the middle of her massive kitchen, and we all had our assigned seats since we ate there so much.
Within just a few minutes, Jake came in the house with a steaming plate piled high with veggie burgers, Vienna Beef hot dogs, perfectly charred corn on the cob, and baked potatoes wrapped snugly in aluminum foil.
Bea poured everyone a cup of iced tea, and we ate and talked as if it were our last meal.
“So Cath,” Jake started, “when my beautiful wife suggests you guys go out ghost hunting in the middle of the night, is it your usual response to say yes?”
I looked at Jake, who was more like a brother to me, and with a mouth full of hot dog, muttered, “Yes.”
“Like I told her last night, if you guys have a feeling about something, I’m good with that. But let me know if it takes you anywhere weird, because I might have information that could save you guys a trip. Especially a trip in the middle of the night.”
Reasoning with the Wonder Falls chief detective was hard to do. But I loved him for being so accepting of Bea’s gifts and of the rest of our quirks.
“It wasn’t really in the middle of the night. That would have been crazy. Right, Bea?”
“Yeah, I told you, Jake. It wasn’t the middle of the night. We’re smarter than that.” Bea looked at me and crossed her eyes, making me nearly choke on my second hot dog.
“I put a protection spell on them, Jake. Didn’t Bea tell you?” Aunt Astrid chimed in.
“You, too, Astrid?” Jake shook his head and squinted his eyes. He wiped his mouth and looked at Bea, who gave him a playful wink.
“Well, I don’t know about you guys, but I found out some very interesting things about this part of town,” I started. I explained how that area had shrunk and expanded every couple of years, how there were always people living out there but not many, and that it was mostly either untamed forest or owned by farmers. Then I mentioned the bridge, and I saw the look on both Bea and Jake’s faces.
“We were just out at that bridge.” Jake leaned forward as he spoke.
“Who’s we?” I asked, looking at Bea.
“Me and Blake,” Jake clarified.
I had purposefully avoided not only seeing Blake Samberg but also hearing any mention of him. I knew he was Jake’s partner, and I knew he was a good detective, so he wouldn’t be leaving Wonder Falls any time soon.
Let’s just say we had been through some things together. Things that would bring normal people closer, maybe even attract them to one another. But not with Blake. Instead, after all we went through, he chose to go out with my archenemy from high school, Darla Castellan. The guy faced creeps all day long and chose to date one on his off time, too. I just didn’t get it. That was the thanks I got for saving his life. But I didn’t say any of this to Jake and nodded for him to continue.
“We call it Suicide Bridge. I don’t know what its real name is, if it even has one. But at least once a year we get a call that someone has gone missing. Once all the routine procedures are completed, we’ll take a squad car out there and find some poor devil hanging from the girders.”
“That’s so terrible.” Aunt Astrid put her hand to her cheek.
“Yeah.” Jake continued, “We just had a call for a missing person about a month ago and had to make the trek out there. Sure enough, the man we were looking for was there.”
“Jeez, Jake. That’s rough,” I said soothingly, adding this to the list of odd facets of Jake’s chosen profession. He knew the Greenstone women fought monsters, but he didn’t seem to realize how similar he and Bea really were. The only difference was that his monsters were bound by the laws of physics. “My gosh. I’m sorry you’ve got to see those things.”
“It was Archie Jones,” Bea added.
“Archie Jones?” Aunt Astrid gasped again. “You mean that sweet little man who sells his skin-care products at the farmers’ market?”
Bea nodded.
“Oh my God!” I blurted out. “He was the guy with the basil-and-lime body lotion and soap, wasn’t he? Man, I loved that stuff. It smelled so good. Well, good luck ever finding that combinati
on of scents anywhere else on the planet.”
“Bea.” Jake furrowed his brow. “I thought we weren’t going to mention who it was until all the details had been sorted out.”
“I’m sorry.” Bea put her hand on her husband’s strong arm. “Whether you like it or not, finding that man has an effect on you, too. That’s where I come in. Secrets don’t help.”
“She’s right, honey,” Aunt Astrid stated. She looked Jake right in the eye.
It was interesting to watch the dynamics among everyone here. Jake loved Bea with all his heart, and that was obvious. He and I joked as though we’d been raised in matching cribs. But when it came to Aunt Astrid, there was a mutual respect there. They were both professionals and excelled at their chosen crafts. In Aunt Astrid’s case, it just happened to be witchcraft.
“I don’t need to know about that case,” she said. “Go ahead and keep the files closed on that. But when you are the one who comes across a scene where a lost soul has taken their own life, you need to have the residue of that scene wiped away.”
“I understand that, Astrid.” Jake patted her hand. “The reason why I didn’t want to discuss the details is because we aren’t sure this is a suicide.”
Now that was better. Not that it was better that poor Archie Jones was murdered. From a mystical point of view, the collateral damage was practically nil. It might sound morbid, but it was true. Suicide made everyone question themselves. Murder, well, that made everyone question their neighbor. It wasn’t perfect. It was just how it was.
“Well, you didn’t say that,” Bea protested.
“Bea, I’m a detective. I’m not the Wonder Falls Inquirer.” He gave her a quizzical look. “Handing out details surrounding a body that we found isn’t my job. So, now, you guys already know too much.”
“Don’t worry, Jake,” I announced. “Your secrets are safe with me. I can’t speak for these other two.”
I reached for another hot dog from the platter. Without being noticed, I broke off a small piece and dropped it on the floor to be gobbled up by my furry friend.
Archibald K. Jones
Archie Jones’s death was listed in the Wonder Falls obituaries three days later. There was not going to be any wake or funeral.
“The body still has to be looked over. It’s considered evidence until they can figure out a few more things.” Bea washed her hands in the sink at the café.
“Have you heard any more about what happened?” Aunt Astrid looked at Bea with concern.
“Only what I overheard Jake and Blake talking about yesterday when I brought them lunch at the station. It’s peculiar to say the least.”
“Peculiar. That’s right up our alley.” I wiped down a recently vacated table and then made my way to the counter. We had a quiet morning, with just a few folks taking up space, all with their heads buried in some kind of electronic device. I never understood the attraction. But it made for happy and frequent customers. I leaned in toward Bea and folded my arms in front of me.
“Archie was hanging off the bridge. There was a makeshift noose around his neck made of pieces of clothing like a jacket, shoelaces, and then a scarf. So if he was planning on killing himself, he decided to do it at the last minute. But there were other things, too.”
“What other things?” I asked.
“He had traces of ketamine in his system.” Bea wiped the counter more out of habit than because it was dirty.
“What is ketamine?” Aunt Astrid leaned in closer so we wouldn’t be overheard by the patrons.
“It’s a horse tranquilizer.” Bea wrinkled her nose. “Apparently it is also used by people who want to…get high on horse tranquilizers.” She shook her head and shrugged.
“That doesn’t make any sense,” I said. “Archie was, well, like Bea. Out there huggin’ trees and going all holistic. I mean, his business was all-natural beauty products. He might have been a bit goofy, but that doesn’t jibe with a guy who’d swallow a horse pill. It’s not like that would be an easy task. Have you ever seen the size of those things?”
“He wouldn’t have swallowed a whole pill.” Aunt Astrid’s voice was low. “He would have ground it up and snorted it or injected it with something else. But you’re right, Cath. It doesn’t sound like Archie Jones.”
“I also heard Blake say there were marks around his wrists. Like he may have been tied up before he died.”
My aunt just shook her head.
I stepped away from the counter, grabbing the coffee pot as I did, and made a quick lap around the dining area, refilling cups and clearing away plates. But as I stepped back up to the counter, I had a burning question.
“Does anyone know where Archie lived?” The map images from the library were tickling at my brain, and I wasn’t sure why but felt there was something to it. In fact, I was already pretty sure I knew what Bea was going to say before she said it.
“He had a small farm in Wonder Falls proper.” She put her hand on her hip and looked at me. “But that’s too far from County Line Road 63, isn’t it?”
“I’m not sure.” I put my hands up as if I were surrendering. “I think I might need to go back to the library and check. Plus, in the census information the librarian showed me, we can find out the names and history of the families that have lived there.”
“That’s a good idea. I’ll join you.” Aunt Astrid reached for her jacket that was hanging on a peg behind the counter. “Bea, can you handle the café until we get back?”
“Sure, Mom.” Bea smiled.
“What are you thinking?” I asked my aunt as she climbed into the passenger seat of my car.
“I’m not sure either, honey. I’m hoping something will come to me when I see it.”
The same librarian with the ring in her nose was working the information desk when my aunt and I walked in. I pointed in the direction of the Wonder Falls archive room, and she smiled broadly, giving me a nod of approval.
“My gosh. All the years I’ve been coming to this library, and I don’t think I’ve ever been in this little room.”
“Right?” I quickly reached for the maps. “I thought that exact same thing when I was here the other day. Okay. Here’s the latest map from three years ago. I’d venture to say not much has changed from then until now, wouldn’t you?”
“I’m more interested in the maps of the past couple decades.”
By the time Aunt Astrid was satisfied she was looking at the right maps, we had almost completely covered the conference table that was in this room.
I watched her as she studied them. Moving her hands back and forth as if she was trying to find something, she walked back and forth from one map to the next.
Finally, she took the latest map and slid it over a map from over seventy-five years ago.
“Look here.” She pointed to an area of farmland. “It was only in the last three years that this tiny little bit of land was separated from this bigger part. The town must have reassigned the boundaries.”
“So what does that mean?”
“The owner of this massive area of farmland probably didn’t like that. It can cause all kinds of problems with taxes, farming regulations—heck, even water, trash collection, sewers.” She squinted as she studied the lines. “And it looks like this small piece of land had been part of the bigger estate since Wonder Falls started charting the town maps this way.”
“I’m still not following.” I scratched my head. “Road 63 is way over here. The bridge they found Archie Jones at is also way over here.” I waved my hand over two areas of the map that my aunt wasn’t looking at. “What does that little piece of land have to do with Archie Jones?”
“That little piece of land is where his farm was.”
I blinked with surprise.
“How do you know that?”
She looked at me and winked. “How can we find the purchase agreements of these properties?”
“The librarian said they were all in the library database. But she said if we were looking
for something specific, it would help to have names and dates and stuff.”
“Boot her up, and let’s see what we can find.”
I wasn’t sure what kind of rabbit hole my aunt was leading me down. But I quickly put the maps back, grabbed two chairs, and hunkered down in front of the computer to search for whatever she told me. It was a matter of minutes before she clapped and pointed at the screen.
“That’s it!” she cried excitedly before blushing and pounding her forehead with the palm of her hand. “Sorry. I forgot we were in the library,” she whispered.
She pointed to the words Short Form Individual Deed of Trust. The name on it was one Archibald K. Jones.
“You were right,” I mumbled. “How did you know?”
“Some things I don’t ask how but rather just say thank you to the forces guiding us.”
As I skimmed the document, glossing over the legal mumbo jumbo, I saw the description of the land. It was just a small plot of 4.2 acres. Hardly what I’d call a farm compared to the property that surrounded it on the map.
“Look. There are other documents with Archie’s name on them.” The database had an ongoing listing of legal documents ranging from the validity of the property lines of Archie’s land to the timeliness of closing on the deed to unauthorized dumping on the land. It was a sea of legal red tape attached to that small sliver of land.
“I hate to say it, but if I was going through all this legal garbage, I might hang myself, too.” I know it was crass, but let’s face it. Nothing sucks out the will to fight more than the prospect of going to court or being sued. At least astral spiders can be destroyed in the privacy of your own home without lawyers being present or fees accruing.
“You aren’t just whistling Dixie,” my aunt replied. “But all of these things have been filed by different people. Either Archie Jones had a lot of enemies, or there was a conspiracy against him. Look.”
It was true. There wasn’t just one person’s name on the filed documents. There was Mr. Reginald Tinder, who was suing for the unauthorized dumping. Mr. Linus Hoage filed against Archie for missing the deadline to close on the deed. And there were half a dozen other names of men accusing Archie of breaking some kind of law or procedure.