by Tim Tingle
“Do you come here often, Lady?”
“Once a week,” she replied. But the voice told him that it wasn’t Miranda. He looked over at her, and that confirmed it.
“I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else.”
“I’m sorry that I’m not who you thought I was!” She smiled and added, “Maybe I can change my name? Who do you want me to be?”
“No Ma’am! Sorry about that.” He pushed his cart away quickly, his face flushed red with embarrassment. He was glad that it wasn’t someone who knew him.
Across the store he saw someone else who favored Miranda, so he closed in on her, and this time he was right.
“You thought that woman was me?”
“Well, yeah.”
“Do I look that bad?”
“It looked like one of your bad disguises. So what’s up? Have they started digging the pool yet?”
“Yes, they started digging the day I called them. One of the construction workers scared me. He walked up on the back porch wanting to use my bathroom. The freezer was right there beside him, with the door open, and a blanket wrapped around the top. I was sure he was going to see what was there, and I almost freaked out! I told him if he had to go to the bathroom, to go out in the woods! I lost my head, Travis! Those guys must think I’m an awful person!”
“But he didn’t see anything, did he?”
“No, but I could tell he was wondering why I had the door opened like that. That’s why this evening, after they knocked off work, I went to Lowe’s and bought an electric chainsaw.”
“An electric chainsaw? I’m almost afraid to ask why.”
“To cut up the body! You know, so it would fit in the freezer! First I just cut off the head, then, silly me, I realized that the shoulders were sticking out too! I started to whack the torso in half, but then I realized that all I had to do was pull him out of the freezer, and saw off his legs at the thigh. That allowed the torso to drop down far enough that the shoulders were no longer sticking up, and I could close the door. And another thing it did, it made it easier to move the body, because it’s now in four pieces. Well, five, actually, because I was tired of looking at that ‘certain part of the male body’ that just simply wouldn’t lay down . . .”
“So you ‘whacked’ it too?”
“Well, yes, it was too convenient not to! There it was, and there I was, with a chainsaw in my hands!”
“Oh, boy! I’ll bet that made a mess!”
“Well, it did kind of scatter pieces of meat and bone around, but I did a good job of cleaning up the area. I got every bit of it up. It was frozen solid, so the mess was minimal. Even the blood was frozen. But I cleaned it all up.”
“Not quite. What’s that on the side of your tennis shoe?”
She looked down, and saw a little speck of what looked like raw hamburger meat on her shoe. “I guess I missed that.” She knocked it off with her other shoe.
“Just one little speck like that is all the evidence the police will need to say you killed him. I’m telling you, you’d better go back and clean that whole area again!”
“Yes, I think you’re right.”
“Good Lord! Wasn’t that a little grizzly? I mean, a chainsaw is a little crude! You didn’t like some of my earlier ideas about disposing of the body. You thought they were senseless and gross, and then, the first time something doesn’t fit where you want it, you crank up the chainsaw and ‘whack’ him up!”
“It’s like you said, he’s dead, so I can’t hurt him any more. And from a practical standpoint I can move him easier in pieces.”
“I can’t argue with that. Now, what was so important that you had to see me again?”
Miranda’s expression was like a mirror. He could see that someone was approaching them. Before he could turn around, someone abruptly stepped between he and Miranda. It was a woman, and Travis knew her.
“Why, Travis Lee! What are you doing here?” It was Marla, his nosey sister-in-law. Janice’s sister, who had never liked him.
“I’m buying groceries, Marla. What else would I be doing in a grocery store?”
Marla turned and looked at Miranda. “I think I know you too! You’re that other woman, who ran off with Travis to South America a year ago! What a coincidence, finding both of you here together!
“I beg your pardon?” Miranda said, annoyed that this strange woman had stepped right in the middle of their conversation.
“Yes, Marla, this is Miranda Monroe. She was kidnapped in Colombia at the same time I was. What is your point?”
“I think Janice would like to know about you meeting this woman, at this time of the night, way up here in Bessemer!”
“And I’m sure you will break your neck to make sure she knows about it, huh?”
“I try to look out for my baby sister, to keep her from getting hurt!”
“I’ve got to go, Travis.” Miranda said, driving a wedge in the conversation. “I hope you have a safe trip to England!”
“Thanks, and good-bye.” Then to Marla, he said, “For your information, it was your ‘baby sister’ who asked me to stop here to get a few things. You’re trying to make it sound like this was a planned meeting! I just happened to see her here, just like I saw you here!”
“Be sure of one thing! Janice will find out!”
“Marla, has anyone ever told you that you are a wicked, vindictive woman? If not, let me be the first one to break it to you!”
“And you are a cheating, dead-beat, and one of these days, I’m going to catch you with your pants down! And then, Mister, I’ll be sure to set Janice up with a good divorce lawyer!”
“What’s wrong with you, Marla? Don’t have enough drama in your own life, so you have to stir up trouble in mine?”
“I just don’t want Janice to make the same mistakes I made!”
“Yes you do! You’d like nothing better than to break up Janice and me! And she couldn’t make the same mistakes you’ve made because you and Janice are nothing alike! You’re a lying, two-faced bitch, who ain’t woman enough to keep a man, and you’re jealous because your little sister is! You’re the person that’s least qualified to give out marital advice! And if you keep trying to break up my marriage, I swear, I will kill you graveyard dead! And I’ll get away with it, because I’ve got crazy papers from the Army!”
“Is that a threat? Are you threatening my life?”
“You’re damn right it’s a threat! I’ll stick your head on a fence post to scare off the crows!”
“You’ll be hearing from my lawyer!”
“I’ve got a fence post for him too! Bring your prissy lawyer, and come on down, you booger-pickin’ bitch!”
She stomped away, and Travis chuckled to himself. He liked to get her so mad that she would just leave. Just one more gut-wrenching episode in the ongoing in-law drama, ‘As The Stomach Turns’. This episode’s title? The Bitch From Hell.
As he went about gathering the items that he came to the store for, he wondered what made Marla hate him so much. Could it have been that little incident that happened way back before he and Janice got married? When they were dating, Marla had tried to get Travis to go to bed with her, but he had turned her down. Apparently she wasn’t used to being told no, if one could believe rumors, including the one that she had seduced the entire Laurel Grove football team. The fact that she couldn’t subvert Little Sister’s boyfriend had always stuck in her craw, and turned into contemptuous hate for him. That was the only reason he could think of for her hate. And over the years, the fact that Little Sister was able to hold on to a man, while she had been divorced three (or was it four) times, was a fact that caused a bit of jealousy. That jealousy had grown ugly over the years. At times he thought he would tell Janice about that incident, but he rightly concluded that the knowledge of it would hurt Jan
ice more than Marla. He often wondered why Marla didn’t turn it around into a lie, and tell Janice that he had tried to seduce her, way back then. But he thought he knew the reason. Marla knew that Janice wouldn’t believe her. Her reputation was set in stone, even way back then. Was he afraid of Marla telling Janice about him talking to Miranda tonight? No need to be, because it was a sure bet that Marla called her as soon as she could get to a phone. But Janice knew better than anyone, how divisive Marla could be when it came to trying to get Travis in trouble, even to the point of outright lying, and she believed very little of what Marla said. Besides, all she had seen them doing was talking.
When he finally got home, it was no surprise that Janice was still up waiting on him. He walked in the kitchen with the groceries, and she met him with a kiss.
“How is my man?”
“Tired. It’s been a long, long day!”
“Yes, for both of us! I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have sent you to the store tonight. I knew you were wanting to get back home, after that mess we had here this morning.”
“That’s okay. It was on my way home.”
“Marla says she saw you at the store, and that you threatened to kill her . . . again!”
“Her and her lawyer!”
“Why this time?”
“Because of her constant meddling and digging, trying to find anything she can find to drive a wedge between us and our marriage! I am tired of it.”
“So am I, and I told her so, but apparently not as bluntly as you did!”
“No, I don’t think you use that kind of language.”
“According to her, you threatened her life, if she breathed a word to me, about you secretly meeting Miranda at the grocery store!”
“That’s total crap!”
“I know it is. I told her that I was the one who sent you to the store at that hour of the night, so there was no secret meeting, like she was trying to imply. But why was Miranda in Bessemer? I thought she lives in Arlington?”
“That’s what I was wondering too. But according to what she told me tonight, before Marla rudely interrupted our conversation, she has bought a nice place on the Warrior River, over near Kellerman. The Wal-Mart in Bessemer is the closest place for her to shop.”
“Oh, so you would expect to see her shopping there.”
“I guess so.”
“So how is she doing these days?”
“Doing a lot of traveling, she says. She said she’s in the process of having a pool put in, but that’s about all I found out, before your sister jumped into our conversation.”
“You didn’t happen to get her new phone number, did you? I’d like to call her sometime.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“I tried to call her about a month ago, but her number had been disconnected. I didn’t know what had happened to her.”
“She’s busy trying to spend all that money! She says it is such a chore, trying to spend it as fast as it comes in.”
“Well, I sympathize with her! I wish I could say that I share her pain!”
“I’ll bet the two of you working together could make a dent in it!”
“Did you say she lives in Kellerman now?”
“That’s what she said.”
“I’ll bet she tried to call me a few days ago!”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because there was a strange number on my answering machine. She didn’t leave a recording, but I looked up the area code, and it was Kellerman.”
“It didn’t say Monroe?”
“No, it was something strange, like Roseberry, or Rasberry, or something like that. She hasn’t changed her last name, has she?”
“Not that I know of. Is it still on your machine?”
“No, I deleted it, because I thought it was a wrong number.”
“Oh well. What time of the day was it?”
“In the afternoon, not long after you left for work. I was gone to town, I think. My first thought was that you had engine trouble going to work, and tried to call me, but Kellerman is on the other side of where you work, isn’t it?”
“Yes it is.”
“But I’m glad you’re home. I’m going to bed now. I am bone tired.”
“I’ll be there shortly.”
He went to his study and signed a few books before going to bed. He probably knew whom it was that had called. It was Miranda, calling from Judge Rosewood’s bedroom, while she was still handcuffed to the headboard. She called in the afternoon, trying to catch him before he went to work, but missed him. He needed to check the phone recorder himself, before he left for England, to be sure it was really deleted. He didn’t want any link between him and Judge Rosewood, because after the Judge is found to be missing, every lead would be pursued. No doubt the FBI would get involved in the disappearance of a Federal Judge, especially one that had at one time been considered for appointment to the U.S. Supreme Court.
That brought up another chilling thought. Couldn’t Ma Bell retrieve from their database, all calls made to or from a phone number in question, even if it had been deleted from all home recording devises? Unless he was mistaken, they could. They were not in the habit of doing it, because it infringed on a person’s First Amendment Right to Privacy, but the FBI could abridge that right when they deemed it necessary. And guess what? A high profile Federal Judge coming up missing would deem it necessary. The FBI would surely check out all calls made to and from Judge Rosewood’s phone, especially the last ones. And where were those last calls made to? Travis’ home phone, and Travis’ place of employment, Savage Creek #2 Mine. Put those two numbers together, and what you had, was a big red arrow pointing back directly to him! Hmm. That was certainly something to think about. Next question, was there ever a call from Rosewood to Miranda’s home phone? He didn’t know. But he knew there were calls from Miranda’s new phone to his house, because he had deleted them. Right there was all the connection the FBI needed to suspect both he and Miranda. If they combed her property, they would no doubt find evidence of a body disposal. (What was she thinking, when she cut up the body with a chainsaw? That added a gruesome and deliberate aspect to the disposal.) And finding that little crumb of DNA evidence (like that speck of meat he saw on her shoe at the store), would be all the evidence they would need to bring in the bulldozers and turn her property upside down, looking for the Judge. And of course, then they would find him, under her newly constructed pool.
He sat tapping his fingers on his book, deep in thought. Why did she have to get involved with a Federal Judge? If this had been some unimportant Joe, it might be possible to make him disappear, and no one would look for very long. But a Federal Judge? This would make national, maybe international news. Things could go very badly from that point onward, because the Feds could be tenacious when they wanted to be. Very tenacious.
He wondered if he should warn Miranda not to bury the body under her pool? There were a lot of precautions he wanted to fill her in on, but he certainly couldn’t call her from his home phone, because it would leave an un-erasable phone record. He would have to call her the next day from a pay phone, while going to work, and offer her instructions on what to do, and not to do. They might ought to consider an entirely different method of disposal.
This was getting far too complicated for Travis. He continued autographing books, but he couldn’t help worrying about it.
10
Janice was thankful that for the next two days, she heard nothing from Penelope Jones. Obviously the woman needed help, and apparently she had found someone to provide for her immediate needs. Frankly, Janice didn’t care where she had gone, or what she was doing, as long as she never called her again. She did not like being made a fool of. She had her hands full, trying to raise their teenagers, and teach them right from wrong, and handling the secretarial duties of T
ravis’ writing career. She didn’t need the stress, headache, or embarrassment of trying to explain to her children, the ‘dirty laundry’, and the stark skeletons hanging from the Deason’s family tree. Maybe she had lived a sheltered life, but she never knew that such incest and debauchery existed in real life, especially so close to home. It was scary to think that such things had been going on, not in Hollywood or San Francisco, but within a couple miles of where they lived.
Travis, meanwhile, was hoping Miranda didn’t call him back at his home. He tried to call her twice from a pay phone, on his way to work, to fill her in on his fears, but she wasn’t at home either time he called. So he had no choice but to go on to England without talking to her, and hope that things worked out.
Saturday morning, Janice was driving them to Arlington, where Travis, his mother, Lois, and Drew were catching the charter bus to Atlanta International Airport. Before they left, Joey approached them.
“Hey Dad, I need to ask you something before you leave.”
“Does it involve money?”
“No, it’s about that casket in the garage.”
“What about it?”
“Well, I thought about using it in the church play we’re doing Wednesday night. It’s a play about Jesus’ miracles. I thought we’d use it for the part where He raises Lazarus from the dead. I thought about having Lazarus rise up out of that casket.”
“I don’t think they had shiny metal caskets in Jesus’ day. They buried the dead in stone tombs.”
“I know, but hey, this is like, creative license. This is a modern day adaptation of the story of Lazarus, so a real casket would be a nice touch!”
“Okay, I see no problem with using it. But don’t mess it up! I plan to use it one day. Not any time soon, I hope, but when the time comes, I don’t want to buried in a used casket!”
“Sure Dad, we’ll take good care of it.”
“All right then. I hate that I’m going to miss your play. Can one of your friends video-tape it for me?”