Shadow by the Bridge

by Suzanne Zewan

  “Yeah, not much came of it except that it cleared everyone.”

  “What about Anton? A lot of people think he did it.”

  “Yeah, there was a small part of me that thought maybe, but he’s notthat bad of a guy. And besides, he was over at his mother’s the night Florence was killed. Helen even saw him by the bridge after supper, waiting for Jill and the kids. Florence was last seen before five-thirty, and they figured that she was murdered around five-thirty, six o’clock, so he had an alibi.”

  “Well, I hope they find the person. I lie awake at night, worried that someone is going to break in here.”

  “That’s why you’re here; you’re not helpless like Mrs. Adleman is. Do you have the shotgun with you?”

  “Yes, I keep it next to me all night.”

  “Are you comfortable using it?”

  “If I have to use it, I can. Junior brought me out into the field to practice shooting again today.”

  “That’s good. I want you to be comfortable using it.”

  “I am. If anyone tries to break in here, he will be a dead man!”

  “Looks like I have a dangerous lady in my arms. I better behave myself,” I said and laughed. “Hopefully, you won’t even have to point it at anyone. But if you ever did, make sure it’s not your father or Junior coming to check on you.”

  Valerie gasped, and covered her mouth. “That would be horrible. I never thought of that. I’ll make sure it’s not someone I know. But… what if itis someone we know?”

  “The only people who should be coming here are my family, you and your mom, and Mrs. Adleman’s son. Other than them, I’m not letting anyone else in.”

  “Valerie!” Mrs. Adleman’s faint voice could be heard through the door.

  Valerie pushed the door open. “I’m out here, still talking to Fritz.”

  “Can you make me some tea?” Mrs. Adleman asked.

  “I’ll be right there,” Valerie replied and shut the door. “I have to go in a minute.” Valerie gazed into my eyes, threw her arms around my neck, and kissed me.

  “All right, I won’t keep you.”

  “Are you going back home?”

  I hesitated for a moment. “No, I’m going to meet Merle at the Mill to play some cards.”

  “Cards? Ha!” She pressed her lips together and shook her head. “Is my father going to be there? My mother will hang him like a goose if he goes!”

  “I don’t know. Merle just asked me a little while ago.”

  I leaned over and kissed her again.

  “I better go or I’ll be out here all night.” She smiled.

  “All right,” I glanced down at the wooden planks on the porch floor for a moment and then into her sparkling eyes. “Hey… I just want you to know… I love you,” I said softly, gazing at her pretty doll face.

  She smiled. “I love you too,” she said tenderly, and then kissed me once more.

  I pulled away for a moment. “I know you have to go.”

  Valerie nodded. “Yeah, I better, but I really don’t want to.”

  “I know.” I leaned in and kissed her again, then left. I turned, watched the door close, and listened for it to lock. With my hands in my pockets, I walked down the road toward the bridge, listening to the sound of the waterfall echo off the rocks. As I stepped away from the bridge and onto the road, I saw a figure, outlined by the moonlit sky, standing at the top of the hill in front of the train tracks.

  Sixteen

  “Hey, Fritzy!”

  Leon. I ambled up the hill toward his dark silhouette. “Hey, Leon,” I replied. I could see the orange tip of his cigarette clutched in his fingers as the smoke leaked from the side of his lips, curling above him then fading into the cold air.

  “Where you headed?” he asked, then placed his cigarette between his lips and adjusted his cap.

  “My guess is the same place you’re headed,” I replied as I stepped over the railroad tracks.

  “It’s been a long day. I just got done milkin’ ’bout an hour ago. And I helped deliver a calf well before sunup, so yeah: I’m ready for a few.”

  “Yeah, I could use a couple too.” I glanced over at Leon as he dragged off of his ciggy. “Anyone else supposed to show tonight?”

  “I don’t know. Merle told me to stop by,” Leon said. “And Anton probably wants to celebrate that his ass ain’t in the can right now.”

  “Or celebrating that he got away with it,” I said with sarcasm.

  “That’s what I meant. I can’t help but think that the son of a bitch bumped her off and got away with it.” Leon shook his head.

  “Yeah, I know. But peopledo say things they don’t mean. And Keller knows exactly where Anton was that night, so they couldn’t pinch him for it. He had an alibi. You can’t be having dinner at your mother’s, finishing up chores, and waiting at the bridge, and still have time to walk over to Flo’s to hide out in her fruit cellar.”

  “Is that where he said he was?”

  “Yeah, Helen saw him.”

  Leon opened the door to the Mill. “Hey, I’m smellin’ some ripe giggle juice!”

  I began to feel uneasy as I stepped through the door as I was hit by a strong scent of apples. I hadn’t seen Anton in a couple of weeks, not since before the murder.

  “It’s the bee’s knees!” Anton yelled down. I could tell he was feeling good.

  “Is Merle up there with you?” I asked up as our boots hit the wood-planked stairs. The sound of Anton’s cheery voice seemed to ease my nerves. Not much had changed from the last time: Anton had the cider and was happy to share it. As gruff as he was, the hard cider had softened him.

  “Yeah, I just got here,” Merle replied.

  When I reached the top of the stairs, I entered a haze of smoke.

  “Hey, Anton,” I said. I noticed a few gray whiskers in his beard among the darker, scruffy ones. He sat at the table, dragging off of his cigar with a tall glass of cider in front of him. He was still the same Anton. I looked at his bloodshot eyes and tried to see a killer in them. But I just couldn’t see it. He was a lot of things: no one could deny that, but a brutal murderer? It was hard to imagine.

  “Good to see ya, Fritz… Leon.” He pointed over to the chairs against the wall. “Pull up a couple of chairs.”

  We each grabbed a seat and pulled them up to the cracked wooden table that was spotted with burns. I shucked my coat off, threw it over the back of my chair, and sat down. Leon wandered over to the shelf that held a big jug of cider and poured us each a glass.

  “Where’s Senior?” I asked.

  “I saw him earlier, and he didn’t think he would make it tonight. Didn’t say why,” Merle replied as he sipped his cider.

  I nodded.

  “Here ya go, Fritzy.” Leon set the two glasses down on the table and sat down. He turned to Anton. “I wasn’t sure we’d be comin’ here this soon,” he said with a big grin above the glass that he was about to take a drink from. “I thought there would be some bars between us the next time I saw you.”

  I flashed Leon a tilted grin and shook my head slightly.Here we go… Can you ever keep your trap closed?

  Anton’s smile fell, leaving his face carved with irritation. “I ain’t the one who killed Florence Kingsley! Don’t start with me, Leon,” he said in a raspy voice, then hit the deck of cards on the table as if he had said all that needed to be said. Without another word, Anton began to deal the cards.

  I gulped down the rest of my cider, picked up my hand, and stared at it. After a few minutes, a warm feeling traveled through my bones. I glanced over at Anton. “A lot of people been talking,” I said, wondering how the words slipped from the inside of my head and off my tongue. Anton’s eyes narrowed as he shook his head.Shit! I shouldn’t have said a word.

  “Yeah, ain’t it strange she was bumped off right after you tellin’ us someone ought to kill that woman?” Leon said with a load of bravery and stupidity. “And fancy that, someone did!” he added with a hard, ironic tone that asked f
or a sock in the face.

  Anton slammed his fist on the table, stood up, and pointed his finger inches from Leon’s nose. “You better watch it, kid! I just told y’all I ain’t the one who did it!” His eyes swept past each of us. Leon’s words seemed to have grabbed ahold of a wild nerve inside Anton. I wasn’t surprised. That’s what Leon liked to do: he found your sore spot and amused himself with it.

  “Anton, sit down. He didn’t mean much by it!” Merle stood up, placed his hand on Anton’s shoulder, and guided him back down to his seat. “You know he was just razzing you.” Merle flashed a look of warning at Leon.

  Anton guzzled down his glass as he eyed Leon as if he were prey. “Ready for another one?” He scanned all our glasses.

  “Yeah, I’m ready,” I said.

  Anton stood up and grabbed my empty glass, and filled it and his own.

  I knocked Leon’s arm with the back of my fist. “Keep yourdamnmouth shut!” I whispered.

  Anton had always gone about his business, which sometimes landed him on the other side of the law, without harming anyone. Leon intended to piss you off, and enjoyed it. I wasn’t sure who was more criminal.

  Leon grinned and sipped from his glass, ignoring me.

  Anton set the glasses down on the table and sat back down. “You guys ain’t hiding nothing from me. You all think I’m lying. There ain’t nothing to lie about,” he said, starting to slur his words.

  “It’s no secret around here,” Merle said. “You do sell a lot of cider and Flo didn’t like it.”

  “Yeah, well, she couldn’t stand to see her brothers all bent, so she squealed on me.” Anton drank from his glass, and then dragged off of his cigar. “Willard told me how angry she was, and that was the reason she squealed like a pig.”

  “Well, I never heard her say anything about it. Why did she care if her brothers drank?” I asked.

  “Yeah, they’re grown men: if they want to have a few drinks, they don’t need their meddling old sister getting in their beeswax,” Leon said, shaking his head. “But, you know how some hens like to squawk,” he added under his breath.

  “I’ve seen them bent a couple of times, and I remember Flo was mad about it. But it didn’t last long,” Merle said. “Maybe she got sick of it.”

  “You know how some people ’round here make everything their concerns,” Leon said, then swigged from his glass. “Especially that squwakin’ hen across the way.” He gestured with his finger.

  “Well, I told Keller that you came into the store around suppertime that night,” Merle said, glancing over at Anton. “You bought a loaf of bread. And that was between four-thirty and five o’clock.”

  “Yeah, had to get the bread, so I went and got bread,” Anton said and took a sip of his cider. “...Mom needed the bread.” His voice trailed off as he slowly nodded.

  “Yeah, Helen told us she was walking with Jill and the kids from your mom’s house, and you were waiting for them over by the bridge.” I added.

  Anton nodded. “That’s where I was, and was as close as I got to the squealer’s how… house.”

  “So what did Keller ask you?” I asked and poured myself yet another glass of cider.

  “He… he asked me a lot of shit,” Anton replied gruffly as he fumbled his words and gulped his cider.

  “Like what?” Leon asked and shot a quick look over to me as I sat back down with my full glass.

  “First of all, he asked… he asked me if old lady Kingsley ever had a difference in opinion, and… and the last time I was at her place. I told him that we ain’t had no difference. And I ain’t been at her place, no time soon.” Anton raised two fingers and stared at them and seemed to count them. “Two years.”

  It was clear to me that the juice was starting to hit Anton.

  “Two years, ya sure about that?” Leon asked in a provoking tone.

  I kicked Leon under the table and narrowed my eyes at him. “Do you want your nose broken?”

  Anton flashed him a vicious look with heavy, bloodshot eyes. He pointed his finger while he held his cigar. “Ain’t I told you to watch it, boy?” Wavering, he then slowly found his mouth and dragged on his cigar. “Whatever the hell you and the rest of Linden think… you’re all damn wrong… all you all.” Anton swigged his cider, burped, and pointed his unsteady finger at Leon. “And I don’t need your shit, Leon. I’m coming close to throwing your ass to the road,” he said, his cigar hanging from his mouth.

  Lucky for Leon, if Anton tried to throw a punch he’d probably miss and fall to the floor.

  “I was just razzing ya, Ant,” Leon said, taking the last sip of his cider. He poured himself another glass.

  Anton seemed to ignore him and finished his glass of cider. He placed his hands on the table to steady himself as he stood up. He grabbed his glass and staggered over to the jug of cider.

  “Shhhh… did all of you just hear a knock?” Leon set his glass on the table and walked over to the stairs to listen.

  “Yeah, I think I did,” Merle said.

  “I’ll go see.” Leon ran down the stairs.

  I heard the squeak of the wooden door opening.

  “Is Fritzy here?” My mother’s faint voice carried up the stairs.

  “Hello, Mrs. Reynolds. Yeah, he’s—”

  “Mom!” I quickly stood up. My heart started pounding, and I ran down the stairs to the door.

  “Is everything all right?” I asked nervously.

  “I’m sorry to bother you boys, but Uncle John called and he’s not feeling well, so I’m going to take a drive over there.”

  Her tone of voice told me there was more to what she was saying. “What’s wrong with him?”

  “He said that he wasn’t feeling well after supper. He had the chills and was going to go to bed. It sounds like he has the flu, so I packed a bag. I’m on my way over there now.”

  I glanced over her shoulder, and I saw the car running.

  “Do you want me to pick you up in the morning, or do you want to come with me now?” she asked in a way that unsettled me.

  I looked back up the stairs and thought for a moment. “I’ll go with you now. Let me go get my coat.”

  I ran back up the stairs. “Hey, I’m goin’ to head over to my Uncle John’s with my mom. He’s not feeling well.” I picked up my glass and drank what was left. “Thanks for the juice, Anton.” I nodded before grabbing my coat off the back of my chair and throwing it on.

  “Any—anytime!” Anton replied.

  “See ya later, Fritzy,” Leon said.

  “See ya,” Merle nodded.

  My mother was already waiting in the car. I opened the door, glanced over the seat, and saw the shotgun lying on the back seat next to her bag. I shut the car door. We drove over the train tracks, down the hill, and over the bridge toward our house.

  “Do you need anything at the house?” my mother asked.

  “No. I have clothes and a pair of old boots at the farm.”

  “I can smell your breath from here.” My mother side-eyed me. By the expression on her face, she wasn’t pleased with the odor. “How much did you drink?”

  “Just a couple,” I replied slowly, trying not to slur my words. “A couple… few,” I said under my breath, so I wasn’t lying to her.

  “So, what did you find out from Anton about his interview with Mr. Keller?”

  “Nothing new.”

  “So who was over there tonight?”

  “Just Merle and Leon, and Leon will be lucky if he walks out of there tonight without his nose broke. He doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut.”

  “Why, what was he saying?”

  “He was trying to get Anton to admit that he is the one who killed Florence.”

  “Well, if he did do it, he wouldn’t be here running free right now. Joseph said that they were confident about whodidn’tdo it. But what worries me is whodid do it.” My mother flashed me a quick look.

  “I know,” I said quietly.

  “Leon likes to stir th
e pot and watch it bubble,” Mom stated, matter-of-factly.

  “Yeah, he sure does. And I don’t know how many times you need to get socked before you learn to keep your mouth shut,” I said as we approached the bend near Florence’s lifeless house.

  My mother glanced over at Florence’s farm. “Every time I look at that house, it’s just so tragic and sad. It overwhelms me at times.”

  “I know.”

  “What happened changed everything around here. It’s given me a lot to think about,” she said softly.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I was home alone that night… It could have been me.” Her voice faded away but left the lingering fear in the air.

  “I know. I’ve thought about that, too.”

  My mother stopped at the Route 63 crossroad, near Harlow’s farm. I could see the small patch of bare trees where the lady had been murdered. I didn’t want to mention it; my mother seemed to have enough on her mind.

  “I’m scared. I’m just really scared.” Her voice cracked. She lifted her hand off the steering wheel and wiped a tear that was running down her cheek.

  “Mom, I know,” I said gently. “We’re all scared. But nothing is going to happen.” I tried to assure her.

  “I’m sorry… but tonight, it all just hit me. I was sitting at the kitchen table after you left, and I kept thinking about someone trying to break in. Then I tried to keep my mind off of it, so I started to read. I jumped at every crack the house made. Then Uncle John called and told me that he wasn’t feeling that well, so I told him that I’d be right over. He assured me that I didn’t need to come over, but I told him I would anyway. I just didn’t want to stay in the house alone, waiting for you to come home.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me before I left? I would have stayed home. I’m sorry; I wasn’t thinking,” I said softly, filled with guilt.

  “Don’t be sorry. You know Joseph is over almost every night. After you left, the house just felt so cold. It’s really the first night I’ve been home alone since—” Her voice faded.

  “Why don’t you stay at Uncle John’s for a few days? I’m sure he’d like having you around to cook and do his washing.”