by Carolina Mac
I walked up on the bottom step, not wanting to be rude. “No thanks. I’m just walking my dog.”
“You must be new,” said the thin lady. “I’m Sheila and this is Marg.”
“Nice to meet you both. I’m Grace Whitmarsh. I haven’t lived in the park too long.”
“Positive you don’t want to have a drink with us?” asked Marg.
“I’m sure, but thanks anyway.” I smiled to be friendly, took my leave and continued down Pine Street. I rounded the corner onto Maple and picked up the pace. I thought I might venture down the side road next to the park and walk as far as the river if my stamina held out.
As I passed one of the trailers on the south side of Maple, I thought I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. Someone was watching me from behind drawn curtains.
Wonder whose trailer that is? Never been down this street before.
I shivered from the back of my neck all the way down my spine and broke into a jog. I tugged on the leash. “Hurry up, Ted.”
Ted kept pace beside me as we ran through the rear park gate and turned left down the gravel road. A few hundred feet down the sideline I wished I had gone the other way. This direction led into a marshy area with dead trees, tall bulrushes and scrub vegetation thriving on both sides of the road. The swamp gave off an eerie vibe as evening settled in and a heavy mist rose from the water and hovered over the whole area like a gray shroud. Frogs croaked, mosquitoes buzzed and one or two fireflies darted through the twilight.
Once I reached the bridge I pulled up on Ted’s leash and leaned on the rusted iron railing for a moment to catch my breath. Below me the water was clear and I could see right to the bottom of the river. Some good-sized trout swam lazily back and forth. Lonnie might like to hear about the fish when he got home. A mosquito landed on my arm and I swatted it.
“Let’s go back, Ted.” I turned to retrace my steps, then thought of the creepy person watching me on Maple Street. I changed my mind, deciding to bypass the back gate of the park and walk all the way around to the main gate on the highway. Ted didn’t seem to care as we jogged along together.
“Only half a mile to go, Ted. Are you tired?” I was, but Ted loped along beside me showing no signs of pooping out.
A truck slowed down beside me and a man hollered, “Want a ride?”
I took a good look at the driver and thought I might have seen him before. Then it dawned on me. Earl the egg man. “Nope, I’m good, thanks.” He rolled on and I watched him turn into the park to begin his deliveries. When I passed the corner, his truck was parked at Barkley’s trailer. He would have to pass the police barricade at April’s place to get to my trailer. Maybe fresh eggs weren’t in my future this week.
“Come on, Ted. We’re almost home,” I urged him on as we turned onto Hickory Lane. Stopping at the end of our street, I let Ted off his leash and we both ran full out to the trailer. I collapsed onto the steps leading up to the deck and panted for breath. “Holy hell, Ted that almost killed me. I’m so out of shape.”
Ted passed me like a bullet. He ran past my trailer, past Lonnie’s trailer and rooted around in the ditch close to the road. I sucked up a breath, grabbed the leash and tore after him in hot pursuit. “Don’t run away on me, Ted.” I snapped the leash onto his collar. “Yuck, what is that?” Ted looked up with a rabbit’s leg hanging out of his mouth and I gagged. “Ted, that’s beyond gross.”
Darkness fell and the park became quiet. I sat on the deck with a coffee and watched for the big rig to rumble up the highway and turn in the gate. Lonnie was late. Nine-thirty. I checked my phone and there was no message. “Wonder where he is, Ted?”
If Ted knew he wasn’t telling. He slurped up water from his outdoor bowl still miffed that I had confiscated his decaying rabbit parts and tossed them into the incinerator behind Lon’s trailer.
A pickup truck approached the police cruiser in front of April’s house, stopped and then drove all the way down Hickory Lane and pulled into my driveway. The fur on Ted’s neck stood on end and he growled long and low. He had no friendly feelings towards anyone, and the egg man, in particular.
“Hey, how are you tonight?” asked Earl as he limped up onto the deck wearing a cocky grin.
“Good and you?”
“I’m dandy fine.” He looked me up and down and little pin pricks ran up the back of my neck. “Any eggs today?”
He’s a creep. How can I get rid of him?
“Sure, I’ll take a dozen.” I stood to go get my purse and when I returned Earl had seated himself at the outdoor table and was lighting up a smoke. The carton of eggs was on the table. I shoved a toonie towards him.
“Thanks.” He picked up the money and dropped it into the pocket on his overalls. “Heard a lot of stuff was happening here in the park.”
“Things happened,” I said, “none of them good.”
“Wonder where in hell Mabel Plimpton is? She’s been buying eggs off me for years.”
“Don’t know. The police are looking into it.”
“How long she been missing?”
“I’m not sure. When I moved in she was already gone.”
“Must be a fuckin month,” said Earl. He shook his head and stared at my mug. “Wouldn’t mind a coffee if you’ve got extra.”
I didn’t want him hanging around, but Jerry had raised me to be polite. “Sure.” I went inside to fix a mug for him wishing Lonnie would hurry up. “Regular?” I called out the screen door.
“Yep, regular.”
I set the mug on the table and put my hand on Ted’s head to calm him. He was growling again.
“Dog doesn’t like me,” said Earl.
“He doesn’t like most people.”
“Good to have a watch dog. Uh huh.” Earl picked up his coffee. “Heard that painter girl got herself raped.”
I clenched my teeth and tried to hold back from striking him in the face. “She didn’t get herself raped. She was attacked and brutally beaten.”
“Right. She was kind of a skinny little thing.”
This guy was slimy and I wanted him gone. I gripped my mug tighter and wondered what to say next. “Was she one of your customers?”
“Yeah, sometimes. Not regular. Don’t think she ate much of anything including eggs,” he chuckled thinking he was amusing.
But I didn’t enjoy his attempt at humor. I squirmed in my chair, then got up and paced back and forth on the deck—railing to railing—peering down the highway for the truck. With all of its running lights, I should be able to see it from here. At the top of the hill far in the distance I saw lights and let out the breath I was holding. “I think Lonnie’s almost here.”
“He your boyfriend? The big trucker guy?”
“Yes, he is.”
“Uh huh.”
The huge Peterbilt slowed down and I let out a sigh of relief. Lonnie changed gears as he pulled through the gate and slowly rolled down Hickory Lane. The engine labored and the trailer creaked with the weight of the big load he had on for the morning.
Earl watched and shook his head as Lonnie backed into his parking space. “Don’t know how in hell he backs that huge motherfucker up like that.”
Ignoring Earl, I ran next door to meet Lon. I wrapped my arms around his neck, kissed him and held him tightly.
“What’s the matter, Gracie?” Lonnie was instantly on the alert. “You feel kind of shaky.”
“I needed you to come home. I’m all right.”
He stroked my hair. “I shouldn’t have left you alone. It bothered me all day.” Ted was whining beside Lonnie’s legs and leaning into him. “Hey boy, how was your day? Did you guard our beautiful girl?” Ted licked Lonnie’s hand. “Is that the egg guy at your place?”
“Yeah, he asked for a coffee and I can’t get rid of him.”
“Uh huh,” said Lonnie as he strode towards my deck. “Hey, Earl, how goes the battle?”
“Not bad. Finished my route for tonight and your girlfriend offered me a coffee.”
Earl stood up. “I’ll head out now. See you next week.”
“Bye,” I said as he limped down the steps. I hung tightly onto Ted’s collar. He was growling and pulling against me like a junkyard dog. I blew out a big breath as I watched the egg truck with the big rooster logo turn onto the highway. “Ted hates him.”
“Not that fond of him myself,” said Lonnie. “Probably harmless. Just a farmer trying to make a living.”
“Want a beer, sugar pop?” I tried to sound more cheerful than I felt.
“Sure do. Could hardly wait to get home and see my gorgeous girl.” He held me in his arms and I tried to shake off the Earl thing. That guy made me edgy and I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Lonnie kissed my neck. “I don’t know how I ever lived without you,” he whispered.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
SHEILA TRUDGED UP the steps into the police station with Marg following close behind her like a lost puppy. “This is a bad idea. Why do you want to bail out that good-for-nothin?”
“He asked me to, and if I can help someone, I will. That’s why I chose teaching as a career. I want to help teenage kids get educated so they can have a better life than I had.”
“Yeah, you’re a fuckin saint all right. Gary’s just using your money. He’ll skip before the trial and you’ll never get a goddam nickel back.”
“You don’t know that, Marg.”
“For sure I know that. Happened to me more than once.” Marg made a face. “Why do you think I have no money?”
Sheila turned and stared at her. “You’ve bailed him out before?”
“Sure. His big mouth is always getting him into shit so deep he can’t get out of it.”
“Damn it,” said Sheila. “I thought Gary and I were… like a couple now… and he was starting to rely on me.”
“He likes anybody he can use,” Marg made another sour face that accentuated the wrinkles around her mouth. She pointed at Sheila. “Right now, that’s you.”
“Let’s see how much the bail is,” said Sheila as she pulled the heavy glass door open.
“Can I help you?” asked the receptionist, looking up from her computer. A smiling dark-haired girl with no uniform sat behind a wooden desk—the OPP emblem emblazoned on the modesty panel.
“Where do I find out about bail for Gary Eastman?”
“I’ll call someone to help you,” said the girl showing them a perfect set of teeth. Neither Marg nor Sheila had visited a good dentist in many years.
A man in a shiny off-the-rack gray suit came towards them. “Detective McMurtry, I believe we met in the trailer park, ladies?” He extended his hand to Sheila.
“Yes, I believe we have met.”
“What can I help you ladies with today,” he asked with a crooked smile.
“I wanted to find out if bail has been set for Gary Eastman.”
“Ah, yes. Gary Eastman. Assault. Come into my office and I’ll find that information for you.”
Marg and Sheila sat in the two vinyl guest chairs in front of McMurtry’s desk while he made a phone call. “Okay, thanks,” he said, then turned to Sheila. “Ten thousand—cash or bond.”
“That means I can put up ten percent?” asked Sheila.
“That’s correct, but before you do, I think you should know how many times Gary Eastman has been arrested.” McMurtry held up a sheet of paper taken from the file on his desk and frowned. “This guy is a big risk, Miss Warren. The list goes on here. Creating a nuisance, attempted robbery, car theft, carrying a concealed weapon, aiding and abetting a fugitive, and on and on.”
Marg nodded. “Told you.”
“Who do I give the money to?” Sheila ignored McMurtry’s warning and wouldn’t look Marg’s way.
Marg glowered but kept her mouth shut.
“To the clerk down the hall. I’ll show you.” McMurtry walked the two women to the clerk’s office and waited while the paperwork was processed. Sheila paid the bail money. “Thanks Ms. Warren, I’ll have an officer bring Mr. Eastman upstairs and you can collect him in the reception area.”
“Thank you,” said Sheila with a little smile. “That wasn’t too hard.”
“Waste of fuckin cash—that’s what it was,” griped Marg. “If it was my money…”
“Well it wasn’t,” snapped Sheila. Marg clammed up.
The two of them took seats in the waiting area. Fifteen minutes passed and still no sign of Gary.
Marg pulled a pack of Matinee out of her purse. “I’m going out for a smoke. I’m sick of waiting for that dick.”
“Okay, go.” Sheila picked up an Us magazine from March 2012 and thumbed through it. Marg was still outside when a uniformed officer appeared with Gary in tow.
He grinned and winked at Sheila. His clothes were dirty and rumpled and he had two-days’ growth on his face. “Took you long enough, baby, but I’m glad to see you all the same.” He grabbed Sheila by the hand and hustled her straight out the door.
GARY SAUNTERED UP the steps onto his deck with Sheila close on his heels. They had dropped Marg off at Sheila’s trailer on the way when she verbalized her objections to Gary’s homecoming celebration—she wanted no part of it. Gary inserted his key, opened the door and swaggered into the kitchen.
“Hey bro,” said Rob. “Where the hell you been?”
“What the fuck are you doing here? The police have been swarming around here since the painter girl got raped. They think you did it. Why in hell would you risk coming back here?” Gary reached into the fridge, opened a beer and chugged half of it.
“Didn’t do her. Ugly and way too skinny. Can’t get off on something that looks like that. “He screwed up his face. “Why bother?”
Gary shook his head of unruly hair and punched Rob in the shoulder. “The dicks are going to haul your sorry ass in for questioning as soon as they know you’re back. They’ve got a fuckin BOLO out on your bike.”
“Then we won’t tell them that I’m back. Will we?” he glared at Sheila. “My bike is in a safe place and I’ll stay out of sight. As soon as they find the real perp, I’m free as a bird.”
“Still think you would have been smarter to hole up someplace other than here,” said Gary.
“You worry too much,” said Rob with a chuckle. “I’ve got things I need to do here.”
“Fuck, bro.” Gary ran his hand through his uncombed mop. “Tell me you’re not going to hit on that bitch with the boyfriend.”
“Can’t tell you that.” Rob grinned. “That would be a lie.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
HAROLD DEEGAN CALLED the residents’ meeting to order. All the seats were filled in the tiny frame building and it was SRO at the back of the hall. With only one tired fan laboring overhead, the air was heavy with the aroma of too many perspiring humans in close quarters. Special guests were in attendance for tonight’s gathering, and nobody wanted to miss a minute of what, to some park residents, was excitement with a capital ‘E.’
Harold mopped his brow with a white handkerchief before he spoke. “Okay folks, we’re going to have our regular meeting after Detectives Spangler and McMurtry have their say. Let’s all listen up, co-operate with the police and do what we can to get our park back to the peaceful place it used to be.”
I hope I live long enough to see that happen.
Harold gestured to the officers and Detective McMurtry took center stage. “Firstly, I have an update on April Bonnacort’s condition. She has recovered from her ordeal, and has decided to move out of the park. No doubt, many of you have already noticed the ‘For Sale’ sign on her property.”
Arthur Lyons put up his hand. “Mr. Lyons, you have a question?”
“Did you catch the person that did that awful thing to April?”
“No. We haven’t apprehended anyone yet. The crime lab is still analyzing the samples from the scene.”
“We all know it was Gary Eastman’s fuckin rapist brother,” shouted one of the other residen
ts.
Detective Spangler held up a hand. “No sir. We don’t know that.”
“Don’t be saying shit about my brother.” Gary jumped off his chair and hollered, “He hasn’t been charged with anything and all you assholes can shut the hell up.” He shook his fist at the crowd.
“You’re as bad as he is,” shouted Arthur, also getting to his feet. “You’re nothing but a hoodlum.”
“I don’t have to put up with your bullshit, old man,” Gary hollered as he stomped down the center aisle and left the building. Sheila remained in her seat and a little smile crossed Marg’s face.
“Makes me nervous that they can’t find Rob,” Grace whispered to Lonnie. They were seated in the back row.
“Have you brought Eastman in for questioning?” asked Betty with her hand raised.
“We haven’t located him yet.” McMurtry held up a hand to stop the questions. “We’re not here to discuss police procedure, folks. We’re here tonight to assure you that we’re doing everything we can to guard your safety. We’ve put an hourly patrol on the park from ten p.m. until six a.m. and tonight we want to ask you good people to form a Neighborhood Watch. You can help protect each other if you keep your eyes and ears open. Report anything you notice that’s out of the ordinary.”
“These are the numbers to call,” said Detective Spangler. She wrote the numbers in a large hand on the whiteboard at the front of the room. “I’d like everyone to write these numbers down and keep them handy near your phone or program them into your cell.”
“What good is a neighborhood watch if the rapist comes in the middle of the night? We’ll all be sleeping?” shouted Edgar Plimpton.
“People work different hours, Mr. Plimpton. Somebody might see something that you don’t.”
“Yeah, like where’s Mabel, Edgar,” hollered Betty Farrell. “What the hell have you done with her?”
All eyes turned and focused on Edgar. He shook his head and followed the path Gary had taken out of the hall, letting the door slam behind him.
Detective Spangler wrapped up the police department’s portion of the meeting. “In closing, please keep your doors and windows locked and watch out for your neighbors until the case is solved. Thank you for listening.” She and McMurtry left the building amid buzzing from the residents.