Song of Life

by C. L. McCullough

  * * * *

  She closed her eyes and thought of her mystical mountains, their mystical mountains. Cas was even more attuned to them than she. She would imagine the both of them together in the mountains, free and without a worry in the world.

  She’d wait for him in a special clearing they’d discover one day, that belonged to them alone. A place where they could shed the stress and worries of the real world and get lost in the magic of themselves. It was magic, it had to be. Humans made too many mistakes, had too many misconceptions, to find their soulmate all by themselves The mountains she loved had brought them together. She hoped they would never again leave them.

  * * * *

  He closed his eyes, lacing his fingers across his chest, and imagined himself flying as in his dream. The mountains called to him, wanted to reveal their secrets to him.

  The first secret revealed was the woman standing in the clearing, face raised in delight, arms outstretched. He could feel her longing, and desire slammed into him. He landed lightly and took her in his arms. They sank to the grassy ground, body to body, mouth to mouth. Want became love and the need to give.

  Together they slept in their separate places.

  Chapter 28

  Cas sat on the lower bunk, waiting to get his life back. For the first time he would be living free of his father’s shadow. He hardly knew how he should feel, but there was a sense of liberation, as if his spirit was slowly unfolding and stretching. He was quietly glad that he’d had the chance to confront his father, to stand up for himself and show his disdain and lack of fear of the man. Now he waited for the men who would seal the deal, give him back his freedom.

  It wasn’t that his incarceration had been such a terrible ordeal. He’d been surprised and humbled by the support the town had given him. He’d met many people since he’d come here and liked most of them, but he hadn’t realized the feeling had been reciprocated. It was an almost overwhelming experience.

  He’d forged a relationship with Ham Sawyer out there in Nebraska, but although Ham had become his template of a decent man, he never felt he’d been as completely accepted as he had been here in Nevis. It was like coming home, he mused. It was like he’d always lived here, he’d slipped right into the flow of the town as easily as he’d slipped into love with Sunny.

  He rose from the bunk to stretch his legs, wondering when the detectives would get here. He wanted to go home to the inn and Sunny. Plus, he had a mission to accomplish; it had consumed him since Duncan mentioned a survivor. He had brooded over it since he’d opened his eyes this morning. Somehow he had to talk to this survivor–it had to be either Raoul or Jesus–and if he was lucky and managed to talk the cops into giving him access, then he was hoping for Raoul. He’d always seemed the lesser of two evils, even if that wasn’t saying much.

  He stood beside the little desk, fingering a hunting magazine, not really seeing anything but turning the pages anyway. Voices and the click of boot heels coming down the hall caught his attention. He closed the magazine and turned to face the front of his cell.

  “Got the perpetrator in the next cell. You all bring the lab, boys? That there pickup is a mine of evidence. And old Wayland, he’s been wanting to sing for his supper. Got the fear it’ll all be put on him. Says he’s innocent. Yeah, and I’m Burt Reynolds,” Ennis scoffed.

  “You look more like Charlie Rich to me,” one of the strangers said casually.

  Ennis puffed up with pride. “Well now, you know I been told that before,” he confided. “But here’s Cas, he’s been waiting patiently. Tried to get him up last night. Was gonna send him home, but he kept swattin’ at me, said his lawyer wouldn’t let him.”

  “Smart lawyer,” the taller stranger commented. “You done good, Sheriff, but you ain’t in charge of this case. It belongs to us. I’m Detective Bearden,” he said to Cas, “this here’s Detective McLeod.”

  Both the detectives wore lightweight suits that looked as if they’d come straight off the rack. Bearden appeared more relaxed than his partner, perhaps because he wasn’t wearing a tie. His face looked lived in, homely but in a way women were sure to find attractive. His brown hair curled against his neck in stark contrast to McLeod’s blond brush cut.

  Cas nodded agreeably and stood waiting while Ennis fumbled with a large key ring. Hiding his actions from the detectives with his body, Ennis rammed the key in the lock, jiggling it a few times. With a flourish, he swung open the door. The detectives filed past him into the cell.

  “Ennis? Ennis, that you? I want to make a statement, damn it. I ain’t swinging for something I never did.” A hand thrust through the bars of the next cell and waved vigorously.

  “Hold your horses, Wayland,” Ennis said, sounding irritated. “Your turn’ll come.”

  “Soon, I hope,” a second man said. “This asshole’s driving me crazy. And he smells like a polecat.”

  “You’ll soon be by your lonesome again, Johnny. Y’all shut up now, we got official business here.”

  “You all weren’t planning on starting without me, were you?” someone called in a cheerful voice. Duncan Miller, looking entirely too happy for the occasion, strode down the hall toward them. “Zeke! They sent you, did they? Nothing but the best, huh?”

  Detective Bearden grinned. “You got it, buddy. Didn’t know you’d gotten involved in this case.”

  “Oh, you know how it is. Family and friends,” Duncan said. “You planning on cutting my client loose?”

  “If you’d let us get on with it,” McLeod snapped. “You got nowhere more private than this?”

  “This is it,” Ennis replied, “unless you’d rather go out front.”

  “At least we could sit out there,” the detective complained. “For two cents I’d haul everyone back to Eufala where things are done properly.”

  “Waste of time and gas, Detective,” Duncan said. “You know my client didn’t do it.”

  Detective Bearden sighed and placed a recorder on the little desk. “Sit here, Mr. Martin and talk slowly and clearly. We don’t want to have to do this but once.”

  Cas sank down on the bunk and waited. Bearden read him his rights, stated the date and time and Cas’s full name.

  “Mr. Martin, where were you on the night of the fifteenth?”

  Cas cleared his throat. “Several places,” he answered.

  Duncan looked at him sharply. “Don’t try to evade the question, Cas. Answer him truthfully.”

  “I spent the night with Reese. I went there after my father left. I needed to talk to him.”

  “You were there the whole night?”

  “I was.”

  “Why did you need to talk to Mr. Graham?”

  Cas answered promptly. “My father had set me up. If I didn’t go back to California with him…he’d set up a bank account in my name, he’d say I’d stolen the money. It seemed to delight him that I’d spend the rest of my life in jail. I wanted to see if Reese had any ideas how to get me out of that mess.”

  “We’ve already interviewed Mr. Graham. He said you got drunk. That true?”

  Cas sighed. “I guess so. I don’t drink much and what I had to say wasn’t easy. I conked out on the couch and didn’t know much of anything ’til the next morning when Ennis showed up.”

  Detective Bearden shoved his hands in his pockets and stared down at Cas. “How do you explain your fingerprints on the murder weapon?”

  “You don’t have to answer that, Cas,” Duncan interjected quickly.

  “Don’t matter anyway. His fingerprints are there, but I’ll be damned if I can see how anyone could fire a gun the way those prints were positioned. Somebody was setting you up, Mr. Martin. I would like to know how your prints got there, though.”

  “The only gun I’ve touched was up at the Carolina,” Cas said slowly. “When Wayland’s friend, Darryl, came at me in the parking lot. He pulled a gun on me.”

  “What happened?”

  “I took it away.”

  “Did you now?” D
etective McLeod said with a slight smile. “This Darryl, that who’s next door?”

  “Naw, that’s Wayland,” Ennis explained. “I expect he’ll be more’n glad to give you Darryl’s whereabouts though.”

  “You know anything about a gold cigarette case, Mr. Martin?”

  “My father used to have one.”

  “Any idea how it was found at your front door?”

  “No. It wasn’t there when I left for Reese’s.”

  “It wasn’t there when Randy checked out that cottage the next day either,” Ennis said indignantly.

  Detective Bearden sighed. “I do hate when stupid people think they’re smart. Think they can pull the wool over trained police officers’ eyes. This Darryl’ll find out how wrong he is, how stupid he is, when we catch up with him.” He paused. “We may have done just that already. There’s been another crash at Dead Man’s Curve. Wasn’t much left of the driver. The wildlife had been busy. We’ll know more when we get the prints run, if the morgue can get a good impression. Not many fingers left, so I was told.”

  “Damn. You think it’s Darryl?” Ennis asked.

  “Might be. Not my case, it’s the county’s, but we’ll be checking with whoever’s in charge. Morgue scuttlebutt is there’s a bunch of drunk critters staggering round that mountain. Alcohol level almost blew the machine.”

  “You don’t fuck around with Dead Man’s Curve,” Ennis nodded wisely.

  “Mr. Martin, you’re free to go.” Detective Bearden reached over and turned off the recorder. “I believe we have business next door, Sheriff, if you’ll be so kind.”

  Cas rose quickly and moved in front of the detective as he turned to go. “Now I have a question,” he said.

  The detective raised a brow at the serious tone. He motioned for his partner to continue next door without him then nodded for Cas to continue.

  “I heard there was a survivor. Was it Raoul or Jesus?”

  “Said his name was Raoul. Why?”

  “I want to see him, talk with him.”

  Both eyebrows rose at this statement. The detective studied Cas and asked one simple question. “Why?”

  “It’s personal,” Cas said stiffly. “He has information I want.”

  “He’s not doing much talking. I have the feeling that guy could tell us a bunch of stuff we’d be interested in, but all he’ll say is he wants a lawyer. You think you could get him to open up?”

  “Oh, he’ll open up,” Cas said grimly, “especially if I can get my hands on him.”

  “Well now, I can’t advocate violence while questioning a prisoner. But then you’re not exactly official, are you? And he may not be a prisoner much longer. We can only hold him so long.” He fell silent, rubbing the back of his neck as he thought. “Tell you what, I’ll talk to the Chief. I don’t need something that’ll hold up in court, just information that’ll give me a starting point. This Raoul has drugs written all over him. If I can get you a private interview with him, in…oh, say an interrogation room, instead of the usual visitor booth, would you agree to throw in some questions for us?”

  “Sure, why not? If I get the answer to my question, he’ll be more than glad to keep on talking.”

  “Big talk, Mr. Martin.”

  Cas’s smile was not humorous. “Not if you can back it up.”

  * * * *

  If Sunny had been a weak woman, she would have been crying from sheer frustration. Bubba’s patch was still holding, but she’d had her hands full with disgruntled guests who didn’t appreciate losing their bathroom facilities. One man had been almost abusive; she had seriously thought of sending for Reese to back her up. It was a depressing fact that the presence of another male would have given Mr. Copeland pause. His poor wife looked embarrassed and kept throwing Sunny apologetic looks.

  She was out of the loop damn it, she had no idea what was happening with Cas, and she resented it. For the first time she resented the inn and the hold it had on her. But she knew her duty, and as soon as Martha came in for her shift, Sunny would be gone. Enough was enough and the inn wouldn’t collapse if she left it for the rest of the day.

  “Mr. Copeland,” she soothed, “I’ve offered you a partial refund and apologized ’til I’m blue in the face. It’s just a chance you take with these old buildings, but I’m sorry it happened while you were here.”

  People never ceased to amaze her. The differences between them were infinite. Why was Mr. Copeland taking it as a personal, deliberate insult to him alone, when little Mr. Roper had cheerfully told her he understood and he did envy her this wonderful building, even if it seemed to have a mind of its own. He’d patted her hand and told her he’d hope to see her again next year, the good Lord willing. He refused the partial refund she’d offered, said it was an adventure and he was glad to know he wasn’t too old to ‘rough it’.

  Mr. Copeland acted like his penis would fall off because he didn’t have a porcelain toilet to pee in. For all of five hours. He not only took the partial refund, he demanded a full one.

  Sunny dug her heels in at that. Enough was enough. She had looked Mr. Copeland up and down until he was squirming uncomfortably. His wife had stepped in, praising Sunny’s quickness in the handling of the emergency and informing her husband to “hush, for God’s sake Frank.” Dangling a set of car keys, she had continued, “I'm leaving now. You gonna walk home?”

  Frank had ignored her, but when Mrs. Copeland marched toward the door, a look of “I don't give a damn” on her face, he'd changed his mind and hurried after her.

  By the time Martha showed up, Sunny was glad to hand the reins over to her and escape to her rooms. She wanted to settle, spruce herself up a bit and then head over to find out what the situation was with Cas. She made herself a nice, hot cup of tea, choosing a seat by the biggest window so she could silently contemplate the beauty of the mountains.

  The day was hazy. The mountains looked ghost-like, suggestions only of what she knew the truth to be. An early morning thunderstorm had dropped the temperature considerably. The dark needles of the pines would be studded with diamond bright water droplets, the air would be soft and damp. She remembered once seeing a spider’s web, the delicate strands delineated by a coating of moisture and beaded with rain jewels. She’d thought it beautiful, something from Fairyland, until she’d noticed the big black spider crouched in the middle of the web. It too was decorated with crystalline droplets, its ugliness transformed into a sort of beauty. It was all in the eye of the beholder, she supposed.

  Both tea and mountains had the desired effect. She felt much more composed and ready to face whatever was waiting down at the jail. Suddenly she was in a frenzy to be gone. She ran a comb quickly through her hair, leaving it down, and splashed water on her face. Pinching her cheeks, she took in a deep breath, and headed for the door.

  She opened it to find Cas standing on the other side, one hand raised to knock. Her heart turned over in her chest, her fingers covered her mouth as she stared at him in disbelief.

  “Cas…oh Cas,” she whispered.

  He smiled, his teeth flashing white in his bronzed face, his eyes warm and intent. Then he simply opened his arms.

  Sunny stepped into him as if she’d been doing it all the days of her life, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist. Her head nestled against him. She could hear the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear and the rumble of his voice deep in his chest as he said “I’m glad I caught you, I’m ready for work, boss.”

  His warm breath stirred her hair. Individual strands caught in the stubble on his rough cheek. His arms tightened. She half laughed, half sobbed, drawing back a little so she could watch his face. The face that had settled into her heart, with its arrogant curve of a nose and the sensitive lips that could widen into the most beautiful smile she had ever seen.

  “Is it really all over?” she asked.

  Cas nodded. “Wayland was singing like a canary when I left. He even confessed to killing a cow. Can I come in?”

  �
��Oh!” Sunny gave an embarrassed laugh and pulled him into the room. “I guess we need to talk. Looks like we might have a happy ending after all.” She smiled up at him as she moved toward the couch.

  “You like to talk too much,” he grumbled. “I feel like we’ve been separated for weeks, not just a couple of days. I have other things on my mind besides talk.” He leered down at her, wiggling his eyebrows.

  “Now see here, Cas,” Sunny began indignantly, but her words ended in a muted shriek as he scooped her up and laughing, set his lips to hers. Her body, which had stiffened in protest, relaxed; her arms crept around his neck. She would be putty in his hands, she knew, and what on earth was she complaining about anyway? There’d be plenty of time to talk. They had all the rest of their lives.

  Instead of heading for the bedroom, he sank down into Jim’s big recliner, cuddling her on his lap, his lips never leaving hers. She felt tears sting her eyes. Reluctantly he ended the kiss and leaned back comfortably but he kept one arm around her.

  “So what did you want to talk about?” he asked. “Not more problems, I hope.”

  “No…not unless you make it one,” she replied, trailing a finger down his neck to his chest. She curled the finger over the edge of his tank top and ran it back and forth, feeling the crisp hair brushing her skin.

  “Sounds ominous. What is it Sunny?” He smoothed her hair back from her face, then lingered, his fingers gently rubbing her scalp.

  Now that it had come down to it, she felt hesitant about bringing it up. Perhaps she should wait, but when Duncan had told her Cas’s reaction to the money situation, she had known they would have to thrash this out. The sooner the better, as far as she was concerned, because it affected their future together. She had a depressing feeling they were about to have another disagreement and she wasn’t sure just how stubborn Cas really was. She reckoned she was about to find out.