by Jason Deas
“What?”
“I guess he’s thinking he can get a piece of history if he buys a piece of art made by a killer. If the killer you’re looking for is a local artist or using their work, their other work might fetch a pretty penny.”
“That’s sick.”
“People will pay big bucks for crazy things.”
“I better get over there.”
Carlton waved as Benny put the Jeep in reverse and backed away from Room 12.
The parking lot at Rene’s was nearly full. Gawkers and media types filled the restaurant and just as Carlton had described, the once filled walls were bare. Benny found one of the few empty seats and sat down.
He ordered a beer and asked the waitress to tell Rene he would like to speak to her. Rene delivered his beer and sat down with a smile on her face.
“On the house,” she said.
“What are you so happy about?”
“Don’t you see?” she said waving her arms, “I sold it all.”
“Didn’t you tell me you do this out of the goodness of your heart and you don’t make any commission?”
“That was true. I have now instituted a new policy and procedure that requires a 50/50 split for displaying and selling your paintings and other art pieces here.”
“That’s convenient,” Benny said, taking a swig from his beer.
Rene huffed. “I know what this looks like to you, but I have bills to pay and you know me better than to think I would have anything at all to do with anything evil.”
“You’re right and I apologize for insinuating that anything nefarious is going on here. For years you’ve provided a great service to the local artists and you have the right to profit from this opportunity.”
“Thank you. And we’re jacking up the prices big time on the next batch,” she said, with a mischievous wink and smile.
“Where are you going to get more?”
“Benny, these artists have stacks of canvases at their homes and studios. I’ve already called all of them and requested more.”
“And they’re all on board for the 50/50 split?”
“Yes. They were all tickled pink that their work sold today, and I told them we would double the prices so it wouldn’t be like they were losing any money at all with the new agreement.”
“Brilliant.”
“I gotta run,” Rene said. “Channel 11 wants to interview me for the evening news and I need to rehearse what I’m going to say and check my face.”
“Thanks for the beer,” Benny said, holding up the bottle.
Benny pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and called Vernon.
“Yo,” Vernon answered.
“You busy?”
“No, now that Chief Neighbors is finished yelling at me I don’t know what to do with myself.”
“Was it that bad when you told him we questioned Big E?”
“Worse than you could even imagine. Try to imagine an angry person having a nervous breakdown, a psychotic episode, and a seizure all at the same time and you might start to get a mental picture of what it was like.”
“Ouch. Can I buy you a beer? I’m at Rene’s.”
“On my way.”
Benny ordered two more and before he knew it, Vernon sat down with questions written all over his face. Benny got him up to speed.
“So, who does the new development throw the most suspicion on?” Vernon asked.
“Rene, Nina, Uncle Karl, and everybody else who’s going to profit from this new gold rush on the Tilley art scene.” Benny drank from his new beer. “Oh, listen to what happened to me earlier. I went to see Uncle Karl this afternoon and he was a different person.”
“He was what?”
“Remember how I told you he has the ability to mimic other personalities?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I went by there today and he was angry and stuttering.”
“I don’t know anybody who stutters. I do know a lot of angry people.”
Benny laughed and almost spit out a mouthful of beer.
Changing the subject, Vernon said, “I did run the registration number on the boat Big E was in and the number doesn’t come up in the system. It’s weird. The number doesn’t even exist.”
“I just don’t see how he fits into this.”
“Maybe he doesn’t.”
“It’s just too coincidental that Little E is involved,” Benny said.
A drunk girl stumbled by their table and stopped. “Did you just say Little E?”
“Yes,” Benny and Vernon answered at the same time.
She wobbled and said, “Thank God they locked up that stuttering asshole.”
Chapter 14
The following morning Benny woke up unusually early again and began to worry. I never wake up early and this is two days in a row. What is wrong with me? His first thoughts turned to Ned and he wondered how his night had been and if he was fully recovered.
Benny’s usual routine was to get a cup of coffee and the paper from Donny in the marina’s office, but after his last performance, Benny was unsure whether he wanted the drama. Benny checked his personal coffee reserves and found they were empty. He headed out the door and up the dock toward the office and Donny.
Opening the door, Benny took a deep breath and entered the marina office.
“I feel better today,” Donny said.
“I’m glad,” Benny answered, walking toward the coffee pot.
“It was just such a shock.”
“It was for me too. Do you want to talk about it?” Benny hoped he didn’t.
“No,” Donny said, sucking back tears. “Too soon.”
“I understand,” Benny said, with a consoling voice. “Let me know when you’re ready.”
“OK.” Tears welled up behind his eyes.
Benny grabbed the paper and headed back to his boat shaking his head.
Back on the top deck, Benny eased into a rocker. The sun peeked above the horizon. Benny read in the paper about the new art rush in Tilley. He thought it was written as if the murders had taken a back seat to the art. Benny’s heart began to beat wildly and he noticed he was gritting his teeth. He wanted to be angry, but wasn’t sure who to be angry with. Whenever Benny felt this way, the only person who could bring perspective back into his life was Red. Benny rarely called him, but decided he needed to hear a voice of reason and dialed Red’s number.
“Red here.”
“Red?” Benny asked, as he could barely hear anything.
“Red here,” Red repeated.
“You have the phone upside down Red,” Benny yelled.
Red flipped the phone around and asked, “How that, Bendy?”
“Great. I thought we drew pictures on the phone so you would know which side is for your ear and which side is for your mouth?”
“Red get a new phone.”
“Oh.”
“You not can wash a phone in the wash machine.”
“You tried to wash your phone in the washing machine?”
“Yep. When Red had the monia, the doctor say to Red he need to wash he phone and toothbrush. Red toothbrush be OK when he get out of wash machine, but phone not keep working. Red doctor confuse.”
“He meant to wash the phone with alcohol.”
“Why he not say that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why Bendy awake early than squirrel? You must be worry.”
“You know me well.”
“No worry, Bendy. Red help you catching bad man.”
“I know you’ll help me any way you can, buddy.”
“Red already help.”
“You did?”
“Red do. You tell Red to interagaze Uncle Karl and Red do.”
“You interrogated him?”
“Yep. Uncle Karl having new friend who talk more funny than Red.”
“You don’t talk funny, Red.”
“Red know he not the same as Bendy.”
“I still think you’re perfect.”
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“I know Bendy do. But Uncle Karl friend have trouble saying he words. And he not nice.”
“What do you mean?” Benny took a sip of coffee.
“He yell at Uncle Karl and ask he for money.”
“What do you mean by he talks funny?”
“He get stuck on he words.”
“How so?”
“If he go to say you name—he say B… B… Bendy.”
“He stutters!”
“If that mean he get stuck on he words, yep.”
“If I showed you a picture of him would you be able to identify him?”
“Red know him if he see he again.”
“I’m going to swing by the police station and pick up his picture and I’ll be over in a few minutes.”
Benny dropped the phone, abandoned his cup of coffee, and hit the dock running.
Red was waiting on the front porch with a steaming cup of coffee in his hand. Benny handed him the picture and Red traded for the cup of coffee.
Red glanced at the picture. “Yep, that be he.”
“I was afraid so. He’s dead. One of the murder victims.”
“Red not be happy that any people be dead, but Red not sad.”
“When was the first time you met him?”
“Maybe six day ago. Red ride he bike to Uncle Karl house for borrow yellow paint. Art store be having they light out.”
“So, last Sunday.”
“That what Red say. Six day ago.”
“You sure did. Was he already there when you got there or did he show up later?”
“He there. Red hear he yell at Uncle Karl from outside. He say he need monies.”
“Were you scared?”
“No. Red angry. When Red angry he scare go away. Red tell funny talky man go away.”
“Did he?”
“Yep. He call Red atarded and he leave.”
“Did Uncle Karl talk about him any more after he left?”
“Nope. He just saying he not having much monies.”
“Does he know you have a lot of money?”
“Red not thinking so.”
“I know we’ve talked about this before, but there are a lot of bad people in the world, Red. Some might even pretend to be your friend and seem nice.”
Red cut him off before he could continue. “Red know. Red know. Red not tell anybody about he $500,000 Bendy get for he.”
“OK, buddy. I didn’t think you would.”
“Red not forget. I not atarded.” Red flashed a smile.
“Thanks for the coffee. Can I bring the cup back to you later?”
“Yep. Red know Bendy need he coffee.”
Benny headed back to his car feeling both better and worse about the day ahead all at the same time.
As Benny drove down the Oglethorpe’s long dirt driveway he met the ice cream truck as it was leaving. He decided Uncle Karl must be having his dairy based breakfast. Instead of pulling to the side so the truck could pass, Benny steered the Jeep to the middle of the narrow lane and put the vehicle in park. The ice cream truck slowed and Benny waved as he walked to the driver side window. The driver let the window down.
“I’m not really open yet,” the driver said, “but if you really want something I guess I can oblige.”
“If you’re not really open, then what are you doing driving way out of your way to sell two ice cream cones to a crazy old man?”
“Boss’s orders.”
“And who may I ask is that?”
“Mr. Frederickson.”
“Big E?”
“Yeah. I don’t call him that though, I call him Mr. Frederickson.”
“How long have you worked for him?”
“This is my first summer. Am I in some sort of trouble?” The young driver who looked barely old enough to own a license furrowed his brow with worry.
“No,” Benny said, trying to summon up a fake laugh. “Consider me a nosey neighbor.”
“OK. Because I need this job. I bought a Camero on payments and if I miss even one day of work selling these cones and stuff, I might miss my payment. My dad co-signed and he told me if I miss one he’s gonna take it out on me with his belt.”
“Sounds like a nice guy.”
“Oh, he isn’t that bad. He just wasn’t too sure about letting me get a new car seeing as I’ve never held down a job for more than a few months at a time.”
“Does he understand that people aren’t going to be buying ice cream in January?”
“I didn’t think of that and don’t think he did either.”
“Something to think about.”
“Yeah,” the kid said, scratching his head looking puzzled.
“Let me ask you a personal question,” Benny said as he reached in through the ice cream truck’s driver side window and turned the ignition key off. The kid didn’t flinch.
“OK.”
“How much is your monthly payment?”
Without missing a beat the kid answered, “$376.52”
“I’m guessing the car isn’t brand new?”
“No. Only has 52,000 miles on it.”
“Sounds like you got a great deal,” Benny lied. “How would you like to put one of those payments in your back pocket?”
“I’m not sure I know what you mean.”
“Let’s just say the ice cream business doesn’t work out for you and you find yourself looking for work. Unable to work you will be unable to collect a paycheck. With no paycheck, you’re going to miss your payment and get that dreaded belt your loving father was talking about.”
“Yeah.”
“What if you had an envelope with $376.52 in it in case that ever happened. You wouldn’t miss your payment and you would avoid the belt.”
“Well, how would I get an envelope with that much money in it?”
Benny smiled. He tried to over-exaggerate the smile, but the kid didn’t pick up on the hint.
“Did I say something funny?” the kid asked.
“No.” Benny thought he was perfect for the job he had in mind as he was too stupid to connect any dots, no matter how easy they might be to connect. On a sad note, Benny knew the kid would never own the Camero outright and hoped he enjoyed it for the short time the bank would allow him to drive it around.
Chapter 15
When Benny finally made it to Uncle Karl’s, Karl had already devoured his two ice cream breakfast. Benny wondered who he would be today.
Benny knocked on the open studio door and entered to find Uncle Karl rubbing his chin in thought.
“Let me ask you a question,” Uncle Karl said turning to Benny.
“OK.”
Uncle Karl walked toward Benny with a particularly familiar trot. He slowed as he neared him. His gaze tightened and his mouth tensed. His eyes focused and he stood still.
“Why don’t you tell me what you know about the situation.” Uncle Karl’s stare did not waver.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Benny tried.
Uncle Karl kept his gaze on Benny and pulled his hand to his hip as if he were reaching for a gun. “I don’t like losing my cool, but you’re about out of chances to stay on my good side.” Uncle Karl cocked his head and Benny felt a wave of déjà vu.
“What?”
“Listen. We can either do this the hard way or my way.”
It clicked. Uncle Karl was Benny. Benny wondered what would happen if he gave it right back to him.
Benny put his hand on his own hip and inched his fingers up toward the holster position. “I don’t think we’re understanding each other, and I’m afraid things are about to turn ugly here,” Benny said.
“I live for ugly.”
“Me too.”
The two men lunged toward each other. Benny was surprised by Uncle Karl’s strength as he threw him backward into one of the posts supporting the bell atop the roof. Benny grabbed at the air as he fell, only to clutch the hanging rope. As he bounced on the ground the rope tightened around his fist and the bell
rang loudly, disturbing the quiet morning.
Benny popped up as Uncle Karl hovered above him. Benny hit him like a lineman making a block and Uncle Karl tumbled backward into a stack of canvases. Not wanting to hurt the old man, Benny paused as Uncle Karl’s eyes adjusted and flashed. Uncle Karl grabbed a long wooden paintbrush on the ground next to him with two hands and snapped it over his knee producing a skewer with a ragged tip. Not waiting for him to act, Benny dove on top of him and pinned his arms to the ground. With wild eyes, Uncle Karl inhaled and flexed as if he were about to spit in Benny’s face. Benny, still holding Uncle Karl’s hands on the ground, pulled his head back and head butted him directly in the nose.
Uncle Karl screamed in pain as Angel came bolting through the door of the studio.
“I heard the bell, what’s the …”
Benny took two steps back and held his hands up. “It’s not what it looks like.”
Uncle Karl continued screaming as blood gushed from his nose. “Bendy is a bad, bad man.” Uncle Karl changed personalities again.
“I can explain,” Benny said to Angel.
“I’m sure you can, Mr. James. Before you do though, can you run into the house and get my mother and a wet wash cloth?”
“Certainly,” Benny said, sprinting toward the house.
Opening the front door, Benny tried not to sound too urgent as he yelled, “Nina!” Nothing. Benny took a few more steps into the old house and tried again. “Nina!” Again, nothing. Feeling the urgency of the moment, Benny hurried back to where he remembered her studio was and threw the door open. Nina barely noticed the intrusion as she was deep in thought, hovering over a painting on the floor below her.
“Nina,” Benny tried again.
She turned to him and he could see in her eyes and face that she hadn’t slept in days. She probably wouldn’t have heard a jet plane if it crashed into the other end of her studio. She was zonked and in some sort of zone.
“We need you outside.”
She looked like she was still dreaming. Benny looked to the floor before running back outside. She had been dropping sand onto a canvas filled with numbers. The numbers were the metal kind one could buy for their mailbox and screw to the side. They had obviously been glued on and painted over numerous times. Nina dropped her bag of sand and followed Benny.