The Battered Body

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The Battered Body Page 20

by J. B. Stanley


  Bennett glanced over his shoulder and said, “That’s what they say about executions, but that doesn’t mean I wanna go to one!”

  The mayor pumped Bennett’s hand up and down heartily and then, throwing decorum aside, gave him a maternal hug. Leaning over the microphone, she recited a brief speech.

  “Welcome home, Bennett Marshall!” She paused to allow for applause. “You have made us all very proud. The world is now aware that the community members of Quincy’s Gap, Virginia, can be both smart and sincere. And darn good looking on that television screen too. Wouldn’t you agree, ladies?” The majority of the women whistled and hooted. “Now, we didn’t have much time to prepare you a formal celebration, so we did things Quincy’s Gap style. Your friends and neighbors have fixed a mouth-watering feast and The Overlook Boys will be providing us with some down-home entertainment. But first, I’d like to present you with a very special award. Bennett Marshall, I give you the Key to Quincy’s Gap.”

  The mayor stepped away from the mic in order to hand Bennett a shadow frame containing a brass key that had been engraved with the date and the town name. Kissing him on the cheek, the mayor gestured at the podium and waited expectantly for Bennett to address the crowd.

  “Thank you,” he spoke from too great a distance from the microphone and only the front row could hear him.

  “Git closer, son!” A man hollered kindly.

  “Um, thank you all for doing this,” Bennett said. “I sure didn’t expect it and I don’t believe I deserve it.” He cleared his throat nervously. “This would be too much even if I’d won, and I don’t know if you were watchin’ a rerun or something, but this mailman didn’t bring home the trophy.” He held out the key to the mayor. “I’m not worthy of this. I didn’t win, ma’am.”

  But the mayor didn’t raise her arms to reclaim the key to the town. Instead, she grinned widely and jerked her head toward the front door. Along with every person in the room, James swiveled around and watched as the crowd parted to allow Gillian passage to the podium

  As his friend walked up the aisle like a bride, James gasped. Gillian looked absolutely stunning. She was dressed in a flowing silver dress that shimmered as she moved. Her neck was bare of her customary string of necklaces and she wore a single silver bangle on her right wrist. Her hair, usually so bright and wild, had been colored a dark auburn and was swept off her face using a narrow headband of light blue. Her aquamarine eyes were fastened on Bennett, and as she seemed to float to him, he appeared utterly stricken by a mixture of terror and adoration.

  “She looks like a mermaid,” someone whispered and James agreed. Beautiful and serene, Gillian could have just walked from the frothy surf like a modern-day Botticelli Venus.

  Gillian walked up the stairs to the podium with deliberate grace and then stopped within inches of Bennett. Placing her hands over her left breast she said, “You did win, Bennett. You’ve earned the admiration of your fellow citizens and stirred the emotions of countless television viewers.” Bennett remained frozen. Gillian’s next words were whispered softly, but James was close enough to overhear her say, “And Bennett Marshall, you have won my heart.”

  Bennett released his pent-up breath and offered the woman before him a dazzling smile. With the entire town looking on breathlessly, he then pulled Gillian roughly toward him and commanded, “Kiss me, woman!”

  The couple’s lips met, tentatively at first, but then their arms wrapped around one another’s backs and they seemed to melt together.

  The audience erupted in ecstatic cheers.

  The sound of his alarm, which could easily rival a nuclear-fallout siren, harshly forced James into wakefulness. Glancing at the clock numbers, he was certain there must be some mistake. He had just gone to sleep, hadn’t he? Noting that his wool blanket was in a heap on the floor and that his pillow protruded halfway out of its wrinkled case, he realized that the little sleep he had captured had been very restless.

  And no wonder, he thought as he wearily sat up and ran his hands through his hair, which was sticking straight out like a porcupine’s quills. All that excitement with Bennett and Gillian and Jane. Oh my Lord, JANE! My ex-wife was in Quincy’s Gap. I looked for her everywhere in that firehouse, but she was gone! Was she a hallucination? He considered the possibility. Brought on by eating too many brownies?

  Sifting through his closet, James wondered what one was supposed to wear to an ash scattering ceremony. Except that it wasn’t a ceremony. Chase clearly planned to toss out the ashes with no fanfare and had already forewarned his relatives that no words would be spoken.

  “Paulette’s memorial should take all of five minutes,” James muttered as he selected a pair of espresso-brown corduroy pants and a forest green sweater and laid them across the foot of his bed.

  Downstairs, Milla was standing behind Jackson’s chair with a hot griddle. She piled pancakes directly onto his plate until she had formed a small tower of golden brown dough.

  “I whipped up these pancakes just for you, James!” Milla handed Jackson a jug of pure maple syrup and kissed him on the top of the head. “Whole wheat banana pancakes. Marvelously tasty and low calorie. Dr. Ruth would approve. I even substituted apple sauce for the vegetable oil, so eat up, my dear!”

  Jackson, who was just about to shovel a forkful of pancake into his mouth, dropped his eating utensil with a clank. “Whole wheat? Wheat’s got no place in a man’s pancake.”

  “Take a bite. I dare you,” Milla taunted as she gazed at her future husband tenderly. “If you don’t like them, I promise to put them right in the garbage disposal. Go on now.”

  Grudgingly, Jackson plunged his fork into his mouth and chewed without meeting Milla’s eager eyes. When he merely grunted in response, she reached out to take his plate, but he lightly smacked her hand away. “I’d rather eat them than fix that damned disposal again. Bananas in pancakes. Hrmph!”

  Milla exchanged a conspiratorial grin with James and the three of them quickly consumed the delicious breakfast.

  James could hardly believe that such savory pancakes were low calorie. As he loaded the dishwasher, he begged Milla to come up with a few more recipes he could make for himself.

  “Don’t remind me that you’re leaving us soon!” She wailed and hid her face behind the dishtowel. “But don’t you worry about food. I’m going to stock your freezer with dinners and when you’re tired of defrosting those, you can drive right over here for a hot, home-cooked meal.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “All right, men. Let’s get a move on. James, you need your truck to get back to work, so Jackson and I will meet you at the overlook. It’s not the ending I wanted for my sister, but it’s an ending.”

  Milla glanced at the tidy kitchen and began to wrap a scarf around her neck. Jackson gulped down the rest of his coffee and pulled on his warmest parka. “If Paulette’s boy sasses you once, I’m tossin’ him off the cliff.”

  “With both of my men by my side, Chase wouldn’t dare say a thing,” Milla replied proudly and buttoned up her long wool coat. After adding gloves and hats to their ensemble, the couple left the house, confident that James wouldn’t be far behind them.

  The phone rang as James was in the middle of brushing his teeth. He quickly rinsed out his mouth and grabbed the portable phone. He said hello as he hurried down the stairs, preparing to tell the caller that he had no time to talk.

  “Are you on your way to the overlook?” Lucy asked without preamble.

  “Yes, and I’ve got to leave now. Jackson and Milla headed out five minutes ago.”

  Lucy sighed in what sounded like relief. “So you three have been in the house all morning?”

  “Where else would we be?” James was puzzled. “It’s seven thirty, Lucy.” He immediately grew concerned. “What’s going on?”

  “The short version is that I looked up the regulations on scattering human remains at a Shenandoah National Park site. Without obtaining a special permit from the director of the National Park Service, it’s an
illegal act.”

  James put on his coat as they talked. “Why did you research that?”

  “Because last night, at the firehouse, Milla told me how much she had wanted a place to visit Paulette and how Chase so rudely denied her request,” Lucy quickly explained. “I figured if I showed up at the hotel this morning in uniform and threatened him with arrest, he might reconsider his plans.”

  “That was really kind of you, Lucy!” James gushed.

  “Well, Chase had already left the hotel when I got there, which I thought was odd. Stranger still, he didn’t take Chloe or Wheezie with him.”

  James suddenly felt anxious. “I don’t like the sound of this. Has Chase run off with the ashes? Is he trying to torture poor Milla?”

  “Um, I know exactly where he is.” She hesitated. “I’m calling you from the overlook, James. I had to call for backup first, but I wanted to stop all three of you from coming out here. Guess I’m too late.”

  “Would you please tell me what happened?” James’s anxiety level had grown exponentially as he pictured Lucy sitting in her brown cruiser, frantically radioing for help.

  “Chase is dead, James. His car is at the bottom of the ravine, and it’s been crushed like a tin can. I can’t get to him, but I’ve got binoculars in my car and I was able to see enough to know that he isn’t going to be revived by the paramedics I called.” She expelled a deep breath. “He was actually thrown free of the car, but his body—well, his arms and legs are at impossible angles.”

  His thoughts whirling, James asked, “Was it an accident? Do you think he was drunk or something?”

  “No,” Lucy answered. “This was murder, plain and simple.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Positive. I’ll explain the details later.”

  James spluttered, “But if Chase was murdered—”

  “Then maybe Paulette was too?” Lucy finished his thought. “I’ll do my best to send your folks back home, but you might want to come out here in case they don’t feel like listening to me. Milla’s a sweet woman, but she’s got a stubborn streak, just like the rest of the folks living under your roof, and I don’t want her to see Chase like this. After all, he was her nephew.”

  “I’ll be right there, Lucy,” James promised and ran out to his truck. Slapping his dashboard, he revved the engine into life. “Come on, old friend. Time for one of our shortcuts.”

  The old Bronco didn’t fail him. As though sensing its owner’s need, the truck climbed the steep, curving mountain roads and dove into the valleys. James had never driven so recklessly over the winding roads. Normally, he followed the forty-five-mile-per-hour speed limit with care, because thick patches of fog could obscure the road at any time of the day. And even though there were fewer sightseers on the Parkway during the winter, one could never tell when an RV driver would suddenly decide to pull off at one of the scenic lookouts or when someone unaccustomed to the highway’s sharp bends would slam on the brakes.

  When James arrived at the overlook, Lucy was speaking to Milla through the driver’s side window of her minivan. Steering well clear of the ambulance, park ranger vehicles, and Sheriff’s Department cars, James parked his truck and then jogged toward the van.

  “Tell them to go on home, James.” Lucy’s voice held both a command and a plea.

  “It’s not that I want to see anything,” Milla assured Lucy. “I’m honestly just trying to get a grip on myself before I put this clunker into reverse. First Patty. And now Chase. I can’t believe this. The size of my family is shrinking fast.” She removed her trembling hands from the steering wheel and put them in her lap.

  Reaching over to clasp her wrinkled hands in his, Jackson peered at Lucy. “That boy didn’t drive himself over that cliff, did he?”

  Lucy shook her head. “No sir. The ground is too hard to allow for defined footprints, but you can see where somebody helped Chase’s rental car over the side. A nice little push, but it was enough.” Behind her, the park rangers were setting up climbing gear and unwinding lengths of cable. Lucy turned, looked at the action occurring among the officials, and seemed impatient to join them. “I’ve got to get back there, but as soon as you’re able, I’d like y’all to clear on out, go home, and sit by the fire with a hot cup of coffee. I promise to call you when I know more about this mess.”

  “You’re a good girl,” Jackson said, and James could see that Lucy was pleased to receive some of Jackson’s rarely offered praise.

  As the older couple drove off, Deputy Keith Donovan strutted over and stood squarely in front of James, invading his personal space in an attempt to be intimidating. Hands on his hips, as though he wore spurs and was about to draw a pair of revolvers and gun down an outlaw, Keith looked James over and made it clear that he was unimpressed by what he saw.

  “You’re always sniffing around my crime scenes, librarian,” he growled. “And here I thought you only got turned on by books.”

  “Books are more enriching than you’d ever know,” James answered, refusing to be baited by the red-haired deputy. “It’s too bad you don’t give one a try. You might widen your horizons, which are about as narrow as the space between my fingers.” James held up his gloved hand and pressed his fingers together.

  Scowling, Donovan turned to Lucy. “While you were having a cozy chitchat session with his folks, the rangers have rappelled down the cliff. In case you’re interested, they’re ready to send the body up. I can take over the lead on this case if you’d rather stand around and run your mouth. Even better, you could go fetch the men coffee and donuts and let us handle everything.” He spat derisively on the ground. “That’s the way things should be anyhow.”

  “Piss off, Donovan. You couldn’t solve a Hardy Boys mystery, let alone a real one,” Lucy hissed, and then walked away toward the ambulance.

  Recognizing that his presence might compromise Lucy’s authority, James pretended to return to the Bronco, but he made a wide arc as he walked in order to take a glimpse over the edge of the overlook. Glancing down, he saw Chase’s rental car. It had fallen nose-down and the bumper had smashed right into the jagged, rock-strewn bottom. James had no talent for guessing distances, but the car had plummeted at least one hundred feet before impact. The front half had folded into itself like a paper fan, and James couldn’t imagine what a human body would look like compared to this contorted wreckage of metal.

  “You were an ass, Chase Martin, but I sure hope you were unconscious before that fall,” James whispered into the frosty air. Having viewed the mangled car, he retreated from the lip of grass, feeling deeply cold both inside and out. Wanting nothing more than to be comforted by the presence of stacks and stacks of books, hushed voices, and the murmur of the library’s ancient furnace, James got in his truck and headed back to Quincy’s Gap.

  It wasn’t his intention to stop at the Sweet Tooth, but when he saw Megan Flowers sweeping the bakery’s stoop, his impulses switched to autopilot, and he pulled into a parking space in front of the store.

  “Good morning, Professor!” Megan welcomed him. “Staff meeting today?”

  James nodded in surprise. “I almost forgot all about that! If I hadn’t seen you, I would have driven right by.”

  “Lucky you, then. I’ve made some heavenly cinnamon buns,” she said with a smile. “Fresh from the oven and just dripping warm maple-walnut frosting.”

  “Those will definitely work,” James said, trying to retain enough control over his appetite to refrain from asking for an éclair, a Long John, or a jelly-filled donut to cram into his mouth in the privacy of his truck. “But don’t let me order anything for myself,” he begged. “I’m stressed right now and am trying to master my cravings when I feel like this.”

  Megan studied James with concern. “Here.” She handed him a thin sliver of raisin bread. “You just need to chew on something, but it doesn’t need to be an entire layer cake. A few plump raisins combined with a crisp, buttery crust should settle you down without ruining your diet.”r />
  She was right. Munching the fresh bread, with its ribbons of cinnamon and fresh, moist raisins, James felt himself relaxing. By the time he finished the snack, his intense desire to rapidly consume a pastry had passed.

  “You are a wonderful woman.” He kissed Megan on the cheek. “Can you slice a loaf of that bread for me to take home to Milla and Pop? I believe it has magical healing powers.”

  “Everything okay, James? You’re not fretting over that silly book, are you?” Megan shouted over the noise of the bread slicer.

  “Ugh,” James groaned. “I’d forgotten all about that.”

  “Easy to do, what with everybody talking about Gillian and Bennett.”

  “People won’t discuss the two lovebirds for long,” James answered glumly. “Happy endings don’t make for good gossip.”

  Megan handed him the cinnamon buns and bread. “I’m afraid that’s true. And the ending of Murphy’s book sure isn’t happy, even though it’s already been adding more dollars to my cash register. No complaints here about her writing about that poor boy who died here.”

  James wasn’t interested in recalling the supper club’s first murder case. “What happens at the end of the book?”

  “It’s too awful to say out loud, so you’ll just have to read it for yourself.” Megan patted him on the arm, wished him a lovely day, and then busied herself arranging a tray of black and white cookies.

  James left the shop in a state of puzzlement, but he didn’t have much time to think about Chase Martin or Murphy’s books, because he reached the library within a few minutes. UPS had delivered boxes of books the day before, and Murphy’s book must have been inside one of the boxes because when James reached the circulation desk, the twins were each poring over a copy.

  “This is the only chance we’re going to get to look at this book,” Francis explained apologetically. “We’ve got eighty-five requests for our three copies, and I heard Murphy’s going to be on The Today Show next week.”

  “Why?” James asked crisply. “It’s a run-of-the-mill thriller. Dozens of books just like hers were released this month, so why is she getting that kind of publicity?”

 

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