Paradise Park

by Carolina Mac

  Jerry gave Ted a hard look and pointed his finger. “If someone comes, Ted, do your worst.”

  Ted wagged his tail and licked Jerry’s hand.

  After Kate and Jerry left, I locked the doors, turned on my computer and worked until ten. When I changed for bed, I propped pillows behind my back and texted Lonnie. His one-word answers always amused me, although his spelling had improved.

  ‘You are my true love and I adore you.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘You are the sweetest thing I ever met.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘I miss you in our bed.’

  ‘Me too.’

  I giggled to myself, let him go to sleep, and turned out the light.

  SCREAMING. IN MY hazy dream, someone was screaming. When I opened my eyes, and forced myself awake I could hear it in the distance. Ted was on his feet, emitting long, low growls from deep in his throat. The screaming was outside. Not close, but close enough that I knew I wasn’t mistaken.

  My bedroom window was open and I peered out. Nothing. Pitch black, but through the blackness there was screaming. Unending screaming. My hands shook as I pressed 911 and gave the park address.

  Picking up yesterday’s clothes from the carpet, I pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt and ran onto the deck with Ted beside me, and Lonnie’s heavy gun in my trembling hand. How could I aim at anybody and pull the trigger with my hand shaking like it was? I didn’t know how to shoot a gun, Lonnie hadn’t taken the time to show me and I had never handled a firearm.

  As I listened, trying to get a sense of where the sound was coming from, the screaming turned to sobbing. Loud sobbing. Not piercing the night silence like the screaming had done, but loud enough to hear at a distance. Down the hill. Behind my trailer. The next street behind me. My heart pounded out a rhythm… run… run… run down the hill in the dark.

  With a flashlight in one hand and the Smith and Wesson in the other, Ted and I crept down the hill in the dark. As we came closer I determined the sobbing was coming from the trailer next to Arthur’s. The last trailer before the gate. I hesitated, not knowing what good I would be to another woman in trouble, but I would want someone to help me if I needed it.

  Forcing myself to put one foot in front of the other, I mounted the steps onto the deck. The screen door was closed but the inside door was open and the kitchen light was on. I sucked in a breath as my eyes focused on the grisly scene in the kitchen. Choking back my dinner, I opened the screen door and stepped inside. “Can I help?”

  “He hurt Mel,” Arthur whined in a high-pitched voice not his own. He rocked a half-naked, beaten and bloody girl in his arms. “He hurt Mel and I killed him.”

  Earl, the egg man, lay on his back on the kitchen floor with a yellow-handled screwdriver sticking out of his chest. His plaid shirt was soaked through with blood and sticking like papier mache to his lifeless body. Dead blue eyes focused on the ceiling fan, a huge clump of blonde hair clutched in his right fist.

  Nausea swept over me like a wave at Big Sur. I retreated onto the deck, leaned over the railing and swallowed big gulps of air to keep from hurling. When my hand steadied enough to press a button, I called Spangler’s cell, woke her out of a sound sleep, and filled her in. After telling her I had called 911 and where I would be, Ted and I trudged up the hill and locked ourselves in the trailer. We collapsed onto my bed and I pulled the covers over our heads.

  SPANGLER LEANED AGAINST the wall with her partner McMurtry. Both of them waiting for the first response team of paramedics to treat the victim and remove her to the hospital. She shook her head. “Looks like Lyons caught him in the act, Mick. Think we got a break on this one.”

  “Yeah, if you call murder a break,” McMurtry scowled.

  The medics had problems of their own. One of the men knelt beside Arthur and spoke in a calm voice, “Sir, we can’t help the victim if you don’t let go of her.” His partner, taller and more muscular, tried to physically make Arthur relinquish his grip.

  “He’s in shock,” the attendant with Dan on his nametag said to Spangler. “We have to take her away from him.”

  “Do what you have to do, Dan.” Spangler snapped. “Get her to the hospital and make sure they do a kit.” She watched as they pried Arthur’s bony hands off Melba Grayson and placed her on a gurney. They started an IV, cleaned up the blood on the woman’s face and carried her out the door.

  The Medical Examiner crowded into the kitchen as soon as the paramedics left. W. T. Wyman was not a happy man at four in the morning. His clothes were rumpled and his gray hair stood on end. He growled at the detectives. “Fuck the donkey, Spangler, what have you got going on in this cursed trailer park?”

  “Don’t know Wally. Gets worse every fucking day.” Spangler stood looking down at the corpse and felt her stomach roil. “In this heat, the fuckin blowfly army will descend any second.”

  “Wonder where her son is?” asked McMurtry.

  “Teenager,” said Spangler. “Out partying with his friends.”

  “All night?” McMurtry shook his head. He leaned out the screen door and hollered to one of the officers on the deck. “See if you can locate her son, the Grayson kid. Check the after-hours spots in town.”

  Spangler approached Arthur who sat on the kitchen floor staring into space. “Mr. Lyons, can I help you get up? I need to ask you some questions.”

  “He hurt Mel. I killed him.” Arthur stared at the floor.

  “Uh huh.” Spangler rolled her eyes at McMurtry.

  “Can you tell me how it happened, Mr. Lyons?”

  “Mel screamed and screamed. I woke up. He had scissors. He cut her hair.”

  McMurtry raised his eyebrows and Spangler pointed to the big chunk of hair clutched in Earl’s dead fingers. “Same MO as April Bonnacort,” said McMurtry.

  Spangler nodded. “Looks like it. See if you can find the scissors.”

  “Mr. Lyons, we’re going to take you to the station to ask you some questions. Are you ready to do that?”

  Arthur nodded but remained sitting on the floor. “He hurt Mel and I killed him.”

  As Spangler helped a shaky Arthur Lyons into the back of the cruiser, she spoke to Hodges who was taping off the perimeter. “Hodges, search for wheels. See how the scissor-happy prick got here.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  ROB POKED HIS snoring brother. “Gary wake up. Something big is going on across the road. Go over and see what the hell is happening.”

  “Piss off. I’m sleeping.” Gary rolled over and grabbed for his pillow. Rob flicked on the light.

  “Turn the fucking light off or you’ll wish you had,” Gary squinted his eyes shut, pulled his pillow over his face and snarled like an angry dog.

  “Make me.” Rob flicked the light off and on. Off and on. Off and on.

  Gary flung the blanket back and jumped out of bed naked. He dove at Rob with his fist clenched and punched him in the gut.

  Rob jumped back chuckling. “Good, you’re up. Go across the road and see what the fuck is going down.”

  “You’re starting to get on my nerves, bro. You don’t want to do that. You so don’t.” Gary gritted his teeth and shook his fist at Rob.

  “Yeah, that’s right. Try to scare me.” Rob grabbed Gary’s wrist and twisted his arm up behind his back. Gary winced and pulled away. “Fuck. That hurt.” He turned to Rob and grinned with what could have been pride. “You’re stronger than you look.”

  Gary pulled on dirty jeans, grabbed his smokes and his Zippo lighter and slammed out onto the deck. He flicked the cover on the Zippo twice, then lit up as he sauntered across the road in time to see the ambulance pull out the back gate with sirens wailing. A uniformed officer was standing at the bottom of Mel’s steps. “Is Mel okay?” Gary asked, “I’m her neighbor and a close friend.”

  “She’s been transported to the hospital.” The officer waved in the direction that the ambulance had gone.

  “What happened to her?”

  “She wa
s injured, sir. That’s all I can tell you. Sorry.”

  Gary walked back to his trailer, sat on the steps and watched the drama unfold across the street. Uniformed officers with Maglites were sealing off Mel’s trailer with yellow tape while others in plain clothes swarmed around the outside taking casts of footprints. Ten minutes later Spangler and McMurtry came out of Melba Grayson’s trailer and helped a shaky Arthur Lyons into the back seat of a squad.

  Fuck, don’t tell me that old asshole raped her.

  He flicked the Zippo twice, lit up a fresh smoke and waited. A little while later, the Coroner came out with a body bag.

  There’s no vehicle in her driveway. Wonder how the corpse got there?

  Gary watched as the cops locked Mel’s trailer up tight and sealed the front door with yellow tape. He went back inside to report to Rob.

  “Took you long enough.”

  “Why don’t you shut the fuck up? I had to wait to see who was fuckin dead.”

  “Who was dead? The old guy that you clobbered?”

  “Nope not him. Couldn’t see who it was. The dead guy was zipped up tight in a body bag.”

  “What happened to the girl?”

  “They took her in the ambulance.”

  “Did the old guy rape her?”

  “Don’t know, bro. That’s your area of expertise.”

  “Fuck you. I never raped anybody. That bitch just said I did. Picked her up in a biker bar. The slut fucked anybody that would buy her a round. Then she calls the cops and said I raped her.”

  “You didn’t?”

  “Why would I. She gave it away to everybody.”

  “They took old Arthur in the cruiser. He was cuffed,” said Gary finishing his story.

  “Cuffed? Maybe he did do her and killed her boyfriend.”

  “Figure it out, Sherlock. Too deep for me. I’m going back to bed.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  THE FOLLOWING MORNING, still shaky and barely able to function, I managed to pull myself together for the day ahead. Thankful for the size of my truck, I edged my way through the plethora of TV vans and reporters as I exited the gates of the park at eight forty-five. Vehicles with brightly painted call letters were parked half in the ditch on both sides of the highway, their occupants milling about, having high hopes of getting a story or pictures of the latest murder scene in Paradise Park. Reporters and camera crews trudged through the long grass near the fences trying for two minutes of filler for the evening news. Police cruisers blocked both gates and only residents were allowed access to Paradise.

  “This is a nightmare, Ted. We need to go on a long haul with Lon and get away until this dies down. He’s going to go ballistic when he finds out there was another rape and another murder.”

  Ted secretly agreed but as usual kept his trepidation bottled up.

  After the meeting with my editor, Ted and I stopped at Harvey’s for a drive-through lunch. I parked the truck and even though I was ravenous, there was no way I could match the speed with which Ted consumed his burger—one bite and it was gone. When lunch was finished, I texted Lonnie.

  ‘Meeting done. Heading home.’

  ‘Load on. Home by dark.’

  ‘Can’t wait.’

  “Me too.’

  My phone was still in my hand when it rang and startled me. I almost dropped it. OPP.

  “Miss Whitmarsh, Detective Spangler. We need to record your statement. Your version of what went on last night at Ms. Grayson’s trailer.”

  “Okay. I’m leaving Toronto now. How’s three o’clock?”

  “Perfect. We’ll be returning to the park before that. See you at three.”

  “We have to make a statement, Ted. Damn. Hope I don’t have to be a witness in court.”

  Ted was unusually quiet in the shotgun seat still digesting his double cheeseburger.

  The officer on the gate was a different cop than the one on the morning shift and once again I had to prove I was a resident of the park. My recently changed driver’s license held me in good stead and he waved me through the entrance. “My boyfriend will be coming in a couple of hours. He drives a purple and black tractor-trailer and he lives in the trailer next to mine. Just so you know.”

  “Thank you, ma’am. I’ll be sure to notice something that big coming at me.” He grinned.

  The press vehicles hadn’t dwindled. “Damn it, Ted, I was hoping they’d be all gone when we got home so Lon wouldn’t see them.” But there they were—like vultures waiting to pounce on road kill. Camera men slunk through the high grass along the fence line shooting film of the back of Mel’s trailer. Her tool shed and her lawnmower would probably show up on the six o’clock news.

  I parked the truck, let Ted run around and do his business then I called him inside and uncapped a beer. Ted watched me make a salad and turn the steaks in the marinade. “Yes, you can have some of my steak at dinner time. You’re such a good boy.” Ted wagged his tail and I gave him one of the big biscuits he had grown fond of.

  I took my beer onto the deck to wait for the detectives and noticed one of the reporters on the other side of the fence waving his arms like a madman. He was hollering questions and motioning for me to come closer to him. “No, I’m not coming over there,” I hollered. Ted snarled and I tightened my grip on his collar. “Stay here, Ted. I need you with me.”

  A black sedan headed down Hickory Lane and pulled into the driveway. Spangler stepped out of the passenger seat looking like she hadn’t slept in a week. Her usually perfectly coiffed blonde hair had more than a few fly-away strands and McMurtry didn’t look much better. His plain gray suit was rumpled and creased, his tie loose and hanging askew and he badly needed a shave. The pair ambled wearily up the steps and I motioned for them to sit. “Detectives, you both look like you could use a beverage.”

  “We’re okay,” said Spangler, “swallowed a gallon of caffeine in the last twenty-four.”

  “We’re meeting quite often,” I said.

  “A little too often,” said McMurtry. “I’m having nightmares about Paradise Park.”

  “Try living here. Lonnie is beside himself whenever he leaves me alone.”

  “He would be,” said McMurtry. He placed a small tape recorder on the table, gave the date and case number and who was making the statement, then signaled me to start.

  I sucked in a big breath and went for it. “When I first woke up, I thought I was dreaming that someone was screaming. As I became fully awake I crossed the room to the open window and confirmed that it definitely was screaming.”

  “Do you remember what time that was?” asked McMurtry.

  “Around three, I think.”

  “You didn’t look at the clock?”

  “No, sorry, I was scared and I didn’t think of it.”

  “Go on. What did you do next?” asked Spangler taking her own notes.

  “I got dressed quickly. I was shaking and Ted was growling and growling. He wouldn’t stop and his snarling frightened me because I knew someone was out there in the dark. I found a flashlight under the sink and took Lon’s gun from under my pillow—even though I had no clue on how to use it. Once I was outside I tried to get a fix on where the wailing was coming from and decided it was the last trailer near the back gate. Ted and I ran down the hill through the grassy area at the back of the trailers. When I arrived at Melba’s trailer—last night I had no idea whose trailer it was—there was no more screaming—only sobbing. Loud sobbing. Kind of hysterical, I’d say.”

  Spangler nodded.

  “Then what?” asked McMurtry.

  “I walked up on the deck and looked through the screen door. The inside door was open and I could see Arthur Lyons holding the lady in his arms. She was beaten badly. There was blood on her face. Her eyes were starting to swell shut, big chunks were chopped out of her hair, her blouse was ripped and hanging off, she was naked from the waist down and she was crying. I asked if I could help.”

  “And what did Mr. Lyons say?”

 
“He said, “He hurt Mel and I killed him.’ He repeated it several times. The same thing.”

  “You saw the deceased?” asked McMurtry.

  “Yes, the egg man was on his back on the kitchen floor with a yellow-handled screwdriver stuck in his chest. He wasn’t moving.”

  “Did you touch anything?”

  “I don’t think so. I couldn’t have been in the kitchen more than a couple of seconds and I felt sure I was going to throw up. I backed out the door onto the deck and called Detective Spangler. That was my first thought.”

  “And I thank you for that, Miss Whitmarsh.”

  “And you didn’t go back inside?” asked McMurtry.

  “No, there was nothing more I could do. The 911 call had been made, and help was on the way. I could hear sirens in the distance as I climbed the hill back to my place. I locked myself in the trailer and made Ted get on the bed beside me, but sleeping was a lost cause.”

  “Understandable,” said McMurtry with a nod.

  DUSK HAD FALLEN over Paradise long before the big eighteen-wheeler rolled up to the gate. Ted and I watched as Lonnie geared down, then backed the heavily laden truck into its spot next to his trailer. We ambled over to meet him on his own turf. “Hey, baby,” I said as I hugged him.

  Lonnie’s face was tight with stress. “What the hell happened, Grace?” He pointed at the blocked gateway. “You should have called me.”

  “There was nothing you could do so far away. It happened in the night.”

  Lonnie placed a heavy hand on each of my shoulders. “What happened?” he yelled right in my face, “Tell me now.”

  I burst into tears, twisted away from Lonnie and ran to my own trailer. Ted followed on my heels and Lonnie wasn’t far behind the dog. “I’m sorry, Gracie. Something terrible happened and I don’t know what it is. I’m going crazy. I didn’t mean to yell at you.” He caught me up in his strong arms and held me close. “I love you.”

  “Let’s sit down.” I took a deep breath as I pointed and Lonnie took a chair at the kitchen table. My eyes were full of tears and I did my best to hold them back while I told him my story. “The girl in the last trailer by the back gate was attacked. Arthur Lyons heard her screams and went next door to help her. He killed the rapist.”