The Burgenton Files

by C. Ruth Daly

  It had been at least two hours that we sat crouched at the window. At an hour before midnight we heard the handful of older adults at the party, except for Thelma, say that they were leaving now while Ned Hollis stood up, and with a slight stagger walked across the room to say goodnight to his guests.

  The three of us crouched even lower and crawled to the north side of the house, out of sight of the partygoers who headed to their cars and were down the street without spotting us. Things looked safe so we made our way back to our positions in front of the picture window.

  Ned Hollis sat on the tapestry sofa with the clawed wooden feet and Linda Miles sat next to him. Linda’s hands were folded on her lap and her small knees pulled tightly together beneath her knit skirt. We watched Brian Reynolds at the bar filling his glass, and turned to see Linda on the sofa by Hollis. Brian’s eyes darkened and narrowed as he puffed out his chest and made a beeline for Linda. Linda caught a view of Reynolds and flinched while Hollis leapt from his seat and offered it to Reynolds who quickly accepted.

  Reynolds saddled up next to Linda and began playing with her auburn hair. His hand glided over her thin neck. Linda cocked her head to the side in response to his touch.

  “Oh this is gross. I could just spit.” Glynda’s eyes were fixed on the scene just like LBJ’s and mine.

  “Now what’s she going to do?”

  “I dunno, Donna.” LBJ was dumfounded like Glynda and me.

  Brian Reynolds was staring hard at Linda—his eyes glazed over. Mr. Hollis watched the scene from the safety of his bar. His brow was furrowed while one hand carefully dumped a scoop full of ice into a guest’s glass.

  “Oh, this is better than the movies!” Glynda squealed.

  LBJ and I were quick to agree.

  Irish appeared in the room, coming from the kitchen area with Stewart’s brother. Irish had her hand down her blouse adjusting her bra while Stewart’s brother was running his fingers through his hair and still sucking down shots of booze.

  My head lowered, shaking in disgust at the activity that I thought had just occurred in the kitchen.

  The street had been quiet until now when one of Burgenton’s two police cars drove by. My heart was beating fast and I knew LBJ’s and Glynda’s were too because Officer Moore had spotted us. We ducked down into the juniper bushes and slowly crawled back to the north side of the house. We were frozen like animals trying to outsmart a predator. His flashlight was out now as he came up the alley. Luckily the people inside the house could not see us since we were on the windowless side of the house.

  “What are you kids up to?” he barked at us. Meanwhile the party continued inside and young Officer Moore with his clean-cut looks and buzz-cut blonde hair paid no attention to it.

  “I lost my watch.” LBJ was quick to come up with something.

  “Now how did you lose your watch all the way up here?”

  “Well, you see, Officer Moore. Donna and I were playing catch with it and Donna threw it real hard and it landed up in these bushes.”

  “You know that Burgenton has a curfew. And you shouldn’t be up on Mr. Hollis’s property now should ya?”

  “No sir, Officer. My grandma lives right across the street and we didn’t go far. You’re not going to arrest us or tell my grandma, will you?”

  “No, I am going to turn my back and I want you girls to be gone. Come back in the day and ask Mr. Hollis if you can get his permission to be on his property and look for your watch.”

  Officer Moore turned his back and walked to his car while we made our stooped switchback moves back across the lawn so that the pretend snipers on the roof could not shoot us down.

  Safe inside the sanctuary of the apartment, we quickly made our way to the bedroom window to see if we could get a good view of Mr. Hollis’s house. With the lights out we watched as the party continued, but we could only get a small view of what was happening inside the home of Ned Hollis.

  After midnight, and after we had missed the ball drop in Times Square, we remained at our post. People were gradually leaving and I was annoyed to see Irish leave with Stewart’s evil brother. It looked like everyone had left the party by 3:00 AM on the first day of 1974. Everyone but Thelma Carson, Brian Reynolds, and his date Linda Miles.

  “Are you sure they’re the only ones still there, LBJ?” Glynda yawned.

  LBJ’s eyes were drooping and I knew I had dark circles under mine. Then we saw Brian Reynolds leave. He was drunk as a skunk and could barely make it to the car. Ned Hollis stood at his door engaged in conversation with Linda Miles. Hollis gestured toward Reynolds’s car and shook his head.

  “Wake up, Glynda. This is still good. I wonder if Hollis is telling Linda not to go with Reynolds.”

  And the three of us watched as Brian Reynolds stumbled to his car and crawled in across the passenger’s seat.

  Linda turned to Reynolds’s white Chevy with its elevated suspension and wide chrome wheels. She retreated slowly down the path with an air of reluctance. Hollis remained on the door stoop, his face obscured by the shadow of the eaves.

  “Should we stay up and watch?”

  “I’m too tired, Donna, and Glynda’s already asleep again. She’s hogging the whole bed.”

  “Well, I’ve got my second wind, so I’m going to see what happens next.”

  “Nothing’s going to happen, Donna. I’m gonna go to sleep.” LBJ mumbled from the bed.

  I remained vigilant at the window as Linda Miles crawled across the passenger’s seat and planted herself beside Brian Reynolds. Ned Hollis stood at the door with arms crossed, apparently concerned for the young couple’s safety. The Reynolds’s car remained parked and the front door of the Hollis house closed quietly. A few minutes later the lights went on in Hollis’s bedroom. Soon my eyelids became heavy and my head was on the sill. Somewhere in the distance I heard the faint sound of a car door slam and the muffled roar of an engine ignited.

  SIX

  I woke up with sunlight on my face. The window blind was still hanging inches above the sill where my head had been resting, and the morning sun was coming through the glass. I looked out the window and saw that Brian Reynolds’s car was gone and the Hollis house seemed locked up and quiet.

  Lori Bell and Glynda were already up and gone. They quickly returned to the room, eyes wide open and their mouths moving quickly. They could hardly get the words out. “Donna, Linda Miles is dead and Brian Reynolds is in jail.”

  “Donna. Brian Reynolds was arrested for murder.” Glynda told me with wide, frightened eyes.

  “Oh my God.” I also thought about what I had heard while Glynda and Lori Bell were snoozing away. Was I one of the last people to see Linda Miles alive?

  “Guys. What time did you get up?”

  “About two hours ago, about 8:00. Why?”

  “Well, you know while Brian was passed out in his car, Linda Miles crawled in beside Brian and I fell asleep. I know I heard a car door slam and then his car start up, but that was much later. At least I think it was much later.”

  “Thelma Carson was at the Hollis house last night and she spent the night. And, Thelma said Linda left with Brian. Ned Hollis and Brian were the last to see her alive.” LBJ stated the facts that had now spread around town.

  “Why would Brian murder Linda? He did look mad when Linda was sitting beside Mr. Hollis.” I stated.

  “I don’t know, Donna.” Glynda was baffled.

  “Thelma Carson is an aunt to Brian. Wouldn’t she drive Linda home?” I tried to make sense of it all.

  “You know she’s also a cousin to Ned Hollis.” LBJ was thinking hard now.

  “Maybe Thelma was too drunk to drive.”

  “That’s never stopped her before.” I said dryly. “She drives like she’s drunk when she’s behind the wheel of the bus.”

  Glynda put her hands on her hips and shook her head. “I just don’t like it. Why didn’t Thelma try to help her drunk nephew?”

  I stood with crossed arms. “Yeah,”
I agreed. “It seems like she would look out for her sister’s own son.”

  We each looked to the other not knowing what to think of the situation.

  SEVEN

  School resumed on Wednesday, the same day Linda Miles was buried. Evan wasn’t at school and neither was Stewart. His brother was cited as an accomplice in the murder because both Brian and Stewart’s brother, who, from news reports, we learned was named Gilbert, but was called Gil, was last seen with Brian Reynolds at 6:00 AM on the morning of the first. The two were seen returning in Gil’s new half-ton from a woodlot near one of the Rolf’s fields. Linda Mile’s body had been found a quarter of a mile away in a culvert, on the road that ran on the other side of the woodlot. Rumors around school and town reported that Linda had been strangled but there had been no sign of a struggle.

  My sister Irish was questioned by the county sheriff and had my dad and brother Tim as alibis showing that she returned home immediately after leaving Ned Hollis’s party. Gil Rolf also confirmed her alibi, which made me think maybe he wasn’t as bad as I thought, but I was still not convinced.

  A lot of the kids at school were absent that day. Viewing hours were the night before and half the town came out to pay their last respects to Linda Miles. LBJ and I went together since Evan was in our grade. Evan sat silently on the moss-green sofa in the viewing room between his two parents while Mrs. Miles sobbed heavily into the sofa’s overstuffed arm.

  When LBJ and I left, we stopped and checked out the visitation book. We noticed that Edgar Gerber had signed on page one and Ned Hollis had signed page three—one page before us.

  LBJ and I walked silently through the streets of Burgenton. The frozen crystal air and seemingly safe lights glowing from behind front parlor windows no longer seemed as serene as before. There had been a murder. And Burgenton just didn’t have murders. Maybe a pig would be killed or a dog poisoned, but people did not just awake every day to find that one of its own citizens had been murdered.

  So I found myself sitting in science class while Mr. Roberts tried to explain the cycle of life and in his own way, he tried to console us as we thought about our own sisters who could have been Linda.

  At lunch Glynda, LBJ, Eda and I sat in the school cafeteria and silently ate our meat loaf and stewed tomatoes. The lunch ladies had not even served with their usual precision and zest.

  “What’s going to happen to Brian Reynolds?” Glynda asked. Her dark brown eyes looked sad and drawn in her chubby face.

  “Guess they’ll try him and see if he’s guilty. Don’t know about Gil Rolf, either. My sister tried to go to the jail to see him, but they won’t let him have visitors.”

  “Well, Donna. What do you think happened that night? You were the last one awake? You did see Linda get in the car, didn’t you? And she did drive away with Reynolds, right?” LBJ was very serious.

  “I don’t know. Do you think Reynolds was sober enough to drive? Maybe Linda drove.”

  “Maybe you should tell the police what you saw.” Eda had spoken. Eda, our proper Mennonite friend, sat silently and listened to our conversation, and she knew about the murder. She also had a definite view of right and wrong, which made me wonder why she chose to hang out with us.

  “Remember how mad Officer Moore was the night we were spying on them at the party? Do you think he’s going to listen to a thirteen-year-old kid? He was on patrol that night so he should’ve seen something. This town’s not that big—he had to have driven by a bunch of times.” I tried to justify my reluctance to go to the police. After all, I really didn’t have anything to report. “Lori Bell, I don’t remember seeing the police car go by that night after you guys went to bed.” I felt defeated. Eda was right. Justice needed to be served. Reynolds had to have done it. “But guys, Linda was checking out Edgar at the party.” I continued. “What about Edgar, the mayor’s kid?”

  “I don’t know. I think he left a lot earlier.” LBJ said.

  “You know, guys, the police must have proof that Brian Reynolds did it. I mean, I fell asleep about 3:00 and he was still passed out in his car then and Linda was just sitting there. It was dark in the car and the porch light went off at the Hollis house so I couldn’t hardly see anyway.”

  Glynda reminded us. “Brian claims he left at 4:30—without Linda.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Glynda, that’s just talk. We don’t know what’s true and what isn’t.”

  “Linda had to have been murdered at about 5:00 or 5:30.” Glynda was thinking hard now.

  The bell rang to go outside. We collected our trays, emptied the scraps into the trash can and proceeded out to the blacktop between the school and gym. No one walked with enthusiasm. All were reflecting and talking about the murder.

  “How’d Brian Reynolds get his arm strong enough to choke her to death?” I heard a boy in the crowd say as we went out into the sun.

  “Hey, Glynda.” I gave her an urgent nudge. “What’s with Brian Reynold’s arm?”

  “Ohhhh! I forgot. He hurt it in a threshing machine or something when he was a kid and it took a long time for him to get better from it. I know that in high school when he played baseball with my brother, well, he wouldn’t be able to hang on to the ball sometimes. It would just drop out of his hand. But that’s all I know. I know Brian told my brother that his arm is just fine and that he can do anything with it. Those Reynolds are so proud. That’s just the way that family is.”

  “Yeah. That whole family is that way. No matter what, they won’t admit when something is wrong. My grandpa said when he was in town having coffee at Sam’s Coffee Shop, that’s what people were saying. They just said the Reynolds aren’t talking and that Mrs. Reynolds isn’t talking at all to her sister, Thelma. They did get them a good lawyer from out of town to defend Brian, though.”

  Glynda shook her head. “I wonder what’s going to happen to Stewart’s brother.”

  “My sister couldn’t see him when she went to the jail, but it does look like he’ll get bail, and his parents have the money to get him out.”

  The second bell rang and we all retreated back into school and back to classes where our minds could not concentrate on work, but only on the event that had just changed our 7th grade year.

  EIGHT

  Weeks had passed and there was still talk of the murder. Evan Miles returned to school and so did Stewart Rolf. The two boys did not speak to each other and one day during the first week of February, two of the teachers had to break up a fight that started between the two of them. Evan broke down in tears and was full of rage, so his mother had to come and take him home. I had never seen Evan show any emotion and it made me sad to think how badly he must feel to have lost his only sibling.

  Stewart’s brother, Gil Rolf, was released on bond, as it appeared that he did not have knowledge of Brian Reynolds’s alleged action. Gil Rolf was released into the custody of his parents and could not leave his house. Thelma was transferred to another bus so she would not be driving Evan Miles to and from school.

  Ned Hollis was seen out and about town. He had developed a well respected reputation in Burgenton, and a few people were encouraging him to run for public office in November. Edgar Gerber continued to work at the courthouse for his dad, where he was more artful in wooing the secretarial staff than filing reports.

  LBJ and I resumed our usual activities at school and home. Life in many respects was returning to normal in Burgenton for LBJ, Glynda, and me. Yet we still had suspicions about what happened that New Year’s Eve. Ned Hollis purchased some thick velvet drapes and hung them in front of his picture window, so we couldn’t really get a look at anything that happened in his house. Besides that, Glynda’s grandmother rented the apartment at the end of January to the new kindergarten teacher at the elementary school. Miss Brennan was hired mid-year to fill the vacant position left by a teacher on maternity leave. Rita Brennan was young, pretty and fresh out of college. She had also taken our spy headquarters.

  And I spotted her with Ned Hollis on
the Friday after Valentine’s Day as the two walked arm in arm through the snow to the Valentine’s Day Ball which was held yearly in the courthouse rotunda. I passed them as I walked through town to the middle school. Miss Brennan smiled at me and Ned Hollis stared at me long and hard then flashed his handsome smile. Maybe he remembered me from the drugstore or maybe he remembered me as one of the girls watching him through a window on New Year’s Eve. Either way, his stare was as cold as Coyote Creek. I looked down upon its frost-glazed waters while crossing the bridge and made my way up the hill toward the school.

  LBJ and Glynda met up with me in the parking lot, and the three of us headed for the school social held in the gym. Everyone had to be wearing something red in order to get in for free. The gym was decorated with big paper balls suspended from the ceiling while red and white streamers ran from corner to corner.

  On the portable stage was a band named Boss Pits, a group of hippies with long hair and grungy clothes. The Boss Pits played hard rock and after an hour, they took a break. The Pits returned from the cold outside, glassy-eyed and slow moving. They began the next set of songs while the guitarist and singer got out on the dance floor and began rubbing their torsos against each other in a provocative back and forth motion.

  We stood frozen—mortified. Kids stopped dancing and moved from the floor. Next thing we knew Principal Gonzalez with his five foot two inch stature, black-rimmed glasses and greased hair swept up in a wave at the forehead was out on the floor waving his arms and yelling at the couple, who continued with their suggestive moves. Mr. Gonzalez’s face was bright red as he violently motioned for the band to leave the gym. The musicians flipped him off, took down their set and proceeded out the door.