Mississippi Noir

by Tom Franklin

  The woodpecker flickered away and I let the binoculars fall around my neck. “I feel that way too, I think. Like you took care of me once and you’re taking care of me again.”

  “See?” she said.

  “Thank you for the binoculars,” I said.

  * * *

  We went back to the visitor’s center and Miss Mary made me a glass of iced tea with honey stirred into it and a piece of lemon wedged on the rim of the glass. It was the best iced tea I’d ever had, nothing like the mix Grandma Oliver made or the Arizonas I got at the Shell. We sat in the main room where there were taxidermied animals: a bear, a coyote, a fox, a squirrel, two hawks, a mallard, and an otter. Glass cases filled with skins and hides and bones lined the walls. Miss Mary said, “I hope you had a good time. Next time we’ll pick blackberries.”

  “I did.”

  “I have to be here until four. Just wait for me, if you don’t mind. I’ll give you a ride.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  Outside we heard tires crunching gravel in the parking lot.

  “Looks like we have a visitor,” Miss Mary said. “You can help me show them around. Maybe you want to volunteer here eventually? I can train you.” She went over to the window and looked out.

  I stood next to her. A van had parked behind her car, blocking it in. The van was red with gold stripes, and I could see the shape of a lady in the driver’s seat. She was smoking a cigarette, and I thought she must be pretty old because she carried herself with a sharpness. Miss Mary’s face had gone pale.

  “Who is that?” I asked.

  Miss Mary scrambled around and locked the doors and shut off the lights and took me in the back bathroom where we crouched down next to the toilet.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “Oh God,” Miss Mary said.

  “Ma’am?”

  “It’s Mother Edna.”

  We heard a tapping out on the front porch, like Mother Edna was nudging the ground with a stick. I didn’t ask questions. Miss Mary was scared to her bones. Next we heard what sounded like one finger streaking down a window.

  “Honey!” Mother Edna called out. Her voice was deep and smoke-grizzled. “I’ll burn you out if I have to.”

  Miss Mary crumpled to her knees. “How’d she find me here? How’d she know about Mississippi?”

  I stayed quiet.

  “A nature sanctuary?” her mother said through the glass, drawing out the last word.

  Miss Mary put her hand on mine and said, “I’m going to go out. You stay in here. Don’t be afraid. Just stay put.” She stood up and left the bathroom.

  I felt alive. I pressed my ear against the door and tried to hear what Miss Mary was saying to her mother. All I heard was the low rumble of their voices. The sound of my heart racing filled the hot little bathroom. A mildewy towel was folded across a rack near the sink and the smell tickled the back of my throat. I opened the door and crawled out into the main room on my hands and knees, the binoculars still hanging from my neck. I tried to see out the window but couldn’t without standing up, so I went to the back door, unlocked it, and tiptoed onto the porch where Miss Mary had given me water that morning. The hummers were buzzing at their feeders. I opened the screen door, careful not to let it slam shut, and ducked around the side of the house. I hid behind a picnic table and lifted the binoculars to my eyes. Miss Mary and her mother weren’t that far off, and I could see way up close in the glass. The old lady had a cigarette in a cigarette holder and was exhaling smoke in big gusts. She was wearing thick heels and a red skirt that stopped at her knees. The skirt was unwrinkled. Her blouse was white and her sleeves were rolled up, as if she’d had to show somebody how to do something the proper way. She was old but not that old. Maybe fifty. And she was beautiful, with glassy eyes and the same long red hair as Miss Mary, except hers was a dye job and the red was closer to purple. Her nails were long and painted with clear polish, the half-moon cuticles dotted red. She was wearing a gold cross on a wispy chain around her neck. But it was her earrings that stopped me: little silver guns with diamond triggers.

  I still couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Miss Mary’s shoulders were slumped as if she’d been scolded into submission. She was trembling.

  The old lady, as if she could sense me, swung around and peered in my direction. I didn’t have much cover. I tried to stay hidden behind the table. She didn’t holler or charge. She removed the cigarette from the holder and then twisted it under her heel and walked calmly across the lot. I thought about running into the woods, but I didn’t move.

  “Come on out here,” she said, sitting at the other end of the table and putting her elbows up on the splintered wood.

  I let the binoculars fall to a dangle and stood.

  “And who are you?” she said.

  Miss Mary came running over. “He’s just a kid who was visiting today. Let him go.”

  “Just a kid. I’ve heard that one before.”

  “He’s got nothing to do with any of this.”

  Mother Edna laughed. “My daughter here,” she said to me, “is a coward, pal. A bona fide coward.” She paused and motioned to the bench. “Sit down.”

  I sat at the table.

  “Never met such a subdued little shine,” she said. And then: “Take those binoculars off.”

  I took the binoculars off and put them down on the table. I pressed my fingers against the lenses on the small side. I wanted to put them back on and look up at the birds in the trees and have Miss Mary whisper in my ear what they were. I looked at her and saw that she had changed in her face even more. No birds could brighten her.

  “Everything will be okay, Jalen.” Miss Mary sat down across from me and touched my hands over the binoculars.

  Mother Edna didn’t say anything. She just sat there and then she cracked her knuckles. They sounded like stomping on bubble wrap. Miss Mary tightened her grip on my hands as if the knuckle-cracking signaled the beginning of something terrible.

  “I’m not scared,” I said.

  “You should be,” Mother Edna said.

  * * *

  Mother Edna walked us over to the van and made us stand face-to-face. I was taller than Miss Mary by two or three inches, but she looked even smaller now. She looked like she’d lost about ten years. Mother Edna opened the back doors of the van and took out two pairs of red plastic ties and then she made us cross our arms and cuffed us left-to-left and right-to-right, cinching the ties with a tab that pinched my skin. Then she pushed us into the back of the van. The rear seats had been pulled out and we spilled across the floor like dead deer. Mother Edna slammed the doors and walked around to the driver’s side. I was so close to Miss Mary I could feel her breath on my neck and smell her sweat. I couldn’t fight off getting wood. I couldn’t look at Miss Mary’s face even though I knew my dick was the last thing she was worried about.

  “She’s not going to kill us,” Miss Mary said. “She needs me.” But the words caught in her throat and she stopped talking. I knew why. Mother Edna needed Miss Mary for whatever reason, but she didn’t need me. She’d kill me if Miss Mary didn’t give her what she wanted. I still didn’t feel scared; I wanted the chance to kill Mother Edna. I wanted to kill her for Miss Mary. Maybe she’d love me for that.

  Mother Edna got under the wheel. She reached across to the passenger seat, palmed something, and brought it up to her face. I twisted my head to see what it was. It was a plastic lion mask with an elastic strap that she’d pulled around the back of her head. The mask was well-worn, orange faded to rust, and the plastic was chipped and cracked around the edges. “You remember this, Audrey?”

  Miss Mary shuddered against me.

  “Audrey’s her real name,” Mother Edna said. “Audrey Rose O’Brien. I used to wear this around the house to spook her when she was little.”

  She kept the mask on as she started the van. A hole was cut in the mouth. She put a cigarette in her holder and inserted the holder into the hole. She lit th
e cigarette and took a long pull and then exhaled smoke around the edges of the mask. “I’m waiting,” she said.

  “I don’t know what you want from me,” Miss Mary said.

  “Tell me where to go.”

  Miss Mary had tears in her voice but held them back. “This is about the money I took?”

  Mother Edna laughed.

  “I don’t know where it is,” Miss Mary said.

  “Try again.”

  “It’s gone. I spent it all getting settled.”

  Mother Edna took off the mask and hung it from the rearview mirror. She climbed into the passenger seat and opened the glove box. A pair of wire cutters rested on top of a stack of road maps and a snuff container. Wire cutters in hand, she climbed into the back with us and kneeled over me, slipping the jaws of the wire cutter around my left pinky. “Every lie you tell, I snip off one of his fingers,” Mother Edna said.

  “Just let him go,” Miss Mary said.

  “Okay. Sorry, pal.”

  I felt the jaws digging into my skin and closed my eyes. Time slowed down. I tried to visualize the wire cutters tearing through my skin and bone, my little finger falling between me and Miss Mary, blood fountaining from the stump. Nothing happened.

  “I buried it,” Miss Mary said, kicking her feet around, trying to push her mother off me. “Most of it. I kept a few thousand at home. The rest is buried.”

  “Where?”

  “Here. Out on the property.”

  “Let’s go. You have a shovel?”

  “There’s a shovel over in the maintenance shed,” Miss Mary said. “You have to promise to let Jalen go before I tell you where the money is.”

  “I’ll let him go after I get my money.”

  “I don’t trust you. Let him go first.”

  Mother Edna leaned over me again and put the jaws of the wire cutters back in place on my left pinky. She squeezed the handles together and I felt pressure first and then a bolt of pain spreading from my hand to my shoulder and I knew there was only air now where my little finger used to be. I looked up at Mother Edna. She was holding my pinky in her hand, dangling it like a slug. Miss Mary was screaming. Blood spread between us. A wave of nausea hit me and I passed out.

  * * *

  When I woke up, I was alone in the back of the van and the first thing I felt was the absence of my finger. I’d dreamed Miss Mary was kissing my neck. I’d dreamed all my teeth were gone and I was trying to kiss her back with a mouthful of slobber. Pain thumped through my body. My ankles were tied together but my hands weren’t. A T-shirt had been wrapped around my left hand and duct-taped into something like a boxing glove. I sat up, drenched in sweat, and looked around. Out the windows all I saw were trees. I heard Miss Mary and Mother Edna talking. Their voices seemed distant at first but then I realized they were right out in front of the van.

  “I should’ve killed you before Kingston,” Mother Edna said.

  “Just let me dig,” Miss Mary said.

  “You and your father, I should’ve fucking done you at the same time. I thought I could make something of you at least. Your father was nothing but that policy he took out.”

  I twisted around and made it up to my knees, the pain in my hand throbbing. I straightened my back and strained to see through the windshield. The van was parked on the dirt trail leading to the slave cemetery. Miss Mary was digging up one of the mounds. I couldn’t see how deep the hole was. Mother Edna was standing with her back to me.

  “Why do you care about the Tatarskys so goddamn much?” Mother Edna asked.

  “You ruined their lives,” Miss Mary said, tossing dirt to the side of her. “That old man killed himself. For what?”

  “The money, sweetheart.” Mother Edna shook her head. “I don’t know what the fuck I did wrong raising you. Somehow I let you be weak. I guess that’s from your father.”

  “Don’t talk about him anymore.” Miss Mary finally started crying, but she was still fighting it.

  “He died because he was weak, and I need weak things out of my way.” Mother Edna paused. “You’re just lucky you got to the hospital that first time, that’s all. Luck’s just luck. It doesn’t last. The things you thought took guts—like stealing my money—didn’t take any guts. You don’t know from guts.”

  Miss Mary stopped shoveling and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

  “Get back to it,” Mother Edna said.

  Miss Mary didn’t move.

  “You need incentive? You, I’m gonna put in that hole, but the kid I’ll turn loose once I have the money. My word’s as good as you’ll get.”

  Miss Mary started digging again.

  I couldn’t walk with the plastic ties around my ankles, but I knew I’d be able to hop. I scrambled to the back of the van and pulled the handle and then pushed the doors open with my feet. I was hoping for a quiet exit but the doors whined. I jumped to the ground, turned, and saw Mother Edna spinning to me. She didn’t have a weapon that I could see. No gun hiding in an ankle holster either. She came at me, hands raised, and I bunny-hopped to the side, which made the pain in my hand even worse.

  “Get back in the van,” she said. “I’ll let you go once I have my money.”

  Miss Mary was fast on Mother Edna’s heels with the shovel. She swung it once, aiming for Mother Edna’s back, and missed, slamming the blade into the hard earth.

  Mother Edna, lucky for the whiff, turned to Miss Mary and scratched her face, breaking a few of her nails and drawing blood from her daughter’s cheeks.

  I hopped painfully past them and went to the hole that Miss Mary had been digging. One of the markers nearby had been loosened. I picked it up with my good hand and held it to my chest. It was an old stone tablet. Thin but sturdy. It looked like bone and felt like it too.

  Miss Mary tried to swing the shovel again but she was too close to Mother Edna, who reached out and disarmed her. Mother Edna poked the handle end of the shovel into Miss Mary’s stomach, knocking her to the ground. Then she pinned down her daughter with her foot and swatted her face with the flat end of the shovel blade. Miss Mary whimpered and brought her arms up to protect herself from another blow.

  I hopped back to where they were, cradling the grave marker.

  Mother Edna stepped back and pointed the shovel at me.

  Miss Mary rolled around on the ground, holding her face. Mother Edna was only half-watching her, focusing on me now. Miss Mary was aiming to take out Mother Edna’s legs, but she was off course. She drove Mother Edna closer to me.

  I let out a breath.

  Mother Edna swung the shovel, and I ducked it.

  I hopped closer to her and lashed out with the grave marker, mashing it into the side of her head. The stone split in half. Mother Edna went down hard, landing on her elbows and then collapsing forward. Miss Mary stood, her face covered in blood and dirt, and picked up the shovel. She brought it down on the back of Mother Edna’s head. Mother Edna screamed into the ground. Her blood misted across my legs. I wanted to spit on her.

  It was still light out, the sun two hours away from setting. Birds in the trees squawked and sang. Miss Mary kept hitting Mother Edna in the back of the head with the shovel until her hands and feet twitched and she went limp. I noticed those earrings again, tiny guns that weren’t worth shit.

  “Ma’am, what are we gonna do?” I asked.

  Miss Mary sat down on her mother, holding the shovel across her lap. “I’m so sorry you had to be part of this.”

  I leaned against the van, blood starting to soak through the T-shirt wrapped around my hand. “I’m glad she’s dead. I didn’t mind hurting her.”

  “She deserved it. Hitting her with that shovel felt good. I know that’s wrong.”

  “You still feel the same about me, like I was your son in another life?”

  Miss Mary stood up and hugged me. “Sure I do, Jalen. And you saved me like sons are supposed to. I can’t tell you how much that means. I hope when I have a son he’s just like you.”

&
nbsp; We stayed hugging for a while and then she kissed me on the mouth. Her lips fireworked against mine and the pain in my hand seemed to disappear. I could smell her freckles. I could smell down to her bones. It was a quick kiss, just lips, but I got wood again. This time I tucked it up in my waistband to deflate it.

  “We’ll bury her, I guess,” Miss Mary said, pulling away.

  “You have that money?”

  She nodded. “It’s buried where I said.”

  “I’m glad you got that.”

  She cut my legs free. I wondered what I smelled like. I sat back and watched as she dug out the money, which was in a brown suitcase covered in stickers. Then we rolled Mother Edna into the hole with the broken marker and filled it in. I hated to think about her buried with the bones of all those people who’d been done wrong. We tried to make her grave look like the rest of the cemetery, dry and hard, not freshly dug up. Miss Mary said no one would care that Mother Edna was missing and they wouldn’t look here anyway.

  We walked to Sharecropper’s Pond. She tossed the shovel in and it sank down to the murky bottom. Miss Mary told me Mother Edna had tossed my pinky into the woods near the visitor’s center. She said it was probably too late. I’d also lost the binoculars.

  We left in the van, the money in the back. I threw Mother Edna’s lion mask out the window when we turned onto 311. Miss Mary came up with a story that I’d been attacked by a stray dog. She dropped me at an urgent care clinic up the road in Collierville. I expected her to wait for me, but she said she couldn’t, not with her face messed up and driving Mother Edna’s van the way she was. She shook my good hand and said she’d come check on me. But I knew she’d disappear with that van, and I was right. No one else knew why she left like that, her car still parked at Audubon, her apartment paid up for the month.

  * * *

  I found out where Miss Mary’s place was the next day and broke in. She’d been there and taken some stuff. I went through what was left. In the garbage I found a few pairs of underwear streaked from her period. I held them to my cheek and then balled them up and put them in a plastic bag. I took scrunchies off doorknobs and books from her bed stand and painted rocks she’d lined up on the windowsill. I drank the rest of her good milk and made peanut butter sandwiches. I took her toothbrush; I still use it.