A Lonely Way To Die - Art Bourgeau

by Art Bourgeau

  I stretched out on the blanket, propped myself on one elbow, and looked at her. Something was bothering Jessie. She lit a cigarette with the butt of the first.

  "Do you want to talk about it?" I said.

  "There's nothing to talk about," she said.

  "Okay, if there's nothing to talk about, then why don't you act a little more cheerful?" I said.

  "Maybe I don't feel cheerful," she said. It must have been contagious, because all of a sudden I didn't feel too cheerful, either.

  "Go ahead. Let's have it. Get it off your chest," I said.

  She turned and stared at me. It was a cold, hard, mean stare.

  "What is Dawn doing with F.T.?" she said.

  That caught me completely by surprise.

  "What are you talking about?" I asked.

  "It wasn't enough to get the mother. Now you have to get the daughter, too," she said.

  "I don't know what you're talking about. They just went fishing together," I said.

  "You know what I'm talking about. I'm talking about my daughter and your friend. Do I have to spell it out?" she said.

  "All right, I know what you're talking about. So what?" I said.

  "I don't like it. That's what," she said.

  "I gathered that," I said.

  "Where did they go fishing?" she asked.

  "I don't know," I lied.

  "They went to the cabin, didn't they? That's why we came here," she said. Jessie had all the makings of a first-class detective herself. I got up and started to dress.

  "What are you doing?" she asked.

  I didn't want to tell her that, at that moment, I felt uncomfortable being undressed around her, and that I thought I could fight a much better fight once I got my clothes on. So I just said, "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm getting dressed."

  "Why?" she asked.

  "Because I'm just wasting my time here. You know that saying about a lady in the living room and a whore in the bedroom—that's you. Only this time, the part about the lady isn't a compliment," I said.

  "I just have Dawn's best interest at heart," she said.

  "Bullshit. You're just thinking about yourself. That's the only best interest you have at heart. You're worried that Dawn might find out about our little scene at the cabin from one of us. Well, you don't have to worry. We aren't about to tell her about it. Your little secret is safe with us. If she finds out from anybody, she'll find out from you. I'm going to give you a piece of free advice. Relax. Take a load off your mind. Don't make waves. You're making a mountain out of a molehill. Dawn is a great girl. You've raised her well. It shows. Now let her do some living of her own," I said.

  "It's hard for me," she said.

  "Of course it's hard for you. It couldn't be any other way. But if you keep on trying to sound like the Virgin Mary, you're going to wind up sounding like some tin-plated hypocrite. That first day at the cabin, when I asked you if you were a lesbian, you said you made it with Cindy because it felt good. Do you think you're the only person in the world who wants to feel good? The only person who wants that little private part rubbed, tickled, tweaked, or stroked until it feels good? Hell, no, you're not. Everybody wants it. Everybody needs it. Everybody thinks about it more than they should. But everybody has a right to it. So like I said, relax. Take a load off your mind. Don't shoot off your mouth. It'll do you a world of good."

  I had finished dressing. At this point in any self-respecting B-grade movie, the lady, with tears glistening, would have torn off my clothes and raped me right there on our secluded Boy Scout beach. Only it didn't happen that way with us. Jessie got up, dusted the sand off her ass, put on her skirt, and headed for the car.

  We didn't have much to say to each other during the ride back. I wanted to talk about the case, but this was not the right time. Jessie dropped me off, and I walked back to the goat shed. F.T. and Dawn were already there. I opened myself a beer.

  "Did y'all have a good afternoon?" I asked.

  "Yeah, we didn't catch any fish, but we did have fun," said F.T.

  "What did you do?" asked Dawn.

  "I spent a hard afternoon of detecting," I said.

  "What did you find out?" asked F.T.

  "Truman and I checked out the cars of all the suspects. Out of the whole bunch, Jim Henry has the only dark car, so that eliminates him. We know where Buck Hill was. He was chasing the suspect, so that eliminates him. Now we're down to five suspects," I said.

  "What are y'all talking about?" asked Dawn.

  "We've been watching your house all night, every night since this thing began. Last night a light-colored car pulled down the road behind your house and stopped. It had its lights off the whole time. We think it was the killer getting ready to try again, but Buck Hill came along before he could do anything and chased him off."

  "Who are the suspects?" asked Dawn.

  "The five we're left with are Lou Young, Hulan, Virgil, Flo, and Buford Whaley, the man F.T. punched," I said.

  "That's crazy. Those people, all but Whaley, are friends of ours. They wouldn't do anything to hurt Mom," said Dawn.

  "That's what I keep telling him, but he won't listen," said F.T.

  "One of those people is the killer, and I'm going to prove it," I said.

  "All right, Mr. Detective, why would Virgil or Flo want to kill Mom? Or for that matter, Hulan or Lou Young?" asked Dawn. She was using that boys-will-be-boys tone again.

  "I don't know yet, but one of them has a reason. Your mother is going to have to help me find it," I said.

  "Well, you're wrong," said Dawn.

  "Maybe, but I doubt it. We can talk more about it later. It's getting late, and we have to get to the stakeout. Ready, F.T.?" I said.

  "Why don't you take the first watch, and I'll come over about midnight to relieve you," he said.

  I took my poncho and walked toward Jessie's. I passed the garbage dump. It was quiet. The rats must have been asleep. The park was deserted. The sun had gone down, the street lights had come on, but it wasn't quite dark yet.

  I went to our usual spot, made myself comfortable, and filled my pipe with Revelation? I couldn't get the case off my mind. I kept wondering why detective novels made it look so easy. In real life, it was so hard. There were few clues: the telephone calls, the two notes, Jessie's missing gun, the footprints in the flower bed, the snakes, the funeral home, and the light-colored car. The killer had covered his tracks beautifully. If he decided to stop while he was ahead, I would never find him, not with the small amount of information I had.

  What I needed was a breakthrough. Then I remembered the car. There would be tire tracks, of course. It was still light enough to see, so I walked down to the road, being careful not to be seen. I didn't want Buck Hill to arrest me for the murder.

  I was disappointed. The road had been muddy, and the tracks were still there, but they were impossible to read. I couldn't tell which were Buck Hill's tracks and which were the killer's. I still needed a breakthrough.

  I went back to my hiding place and thought some more. What else could I work on? I reviewed the clues again. Then the tire tracks reminded me of the footprints under Jessie's window. Maybe they would help me to catch the killer, or at least eliminate another suspect or two. I made a. mental note to check them out tomorrow when I went to see Jessie.

  The time passed quickly. Around midnight I heard someone coming. I shifted my position and

  waited. It was F.T.

  He sat down, lit a cigar, and made himself comfortable. ..

  "Here, I brought you some whiskey," he said, passing the bottle.

  I took a drink. It burned my throat.

  "Thanks," I said. I was a little bit peeved at F .T. for chasing skirts with a murder to be solved, and he knew it.

  "I`don't want you to think I let you down today, but someone had to take Dawn off your hands so you could get on with the case. With her always around, you're not going to get anywhere," he said. He was right. Jessie was like a clam with Daw
n around.

  "No problem, I appreciate it," I said, and I did.

  Chapter 22

  F.T. and I woke about seven-thirty. Sometime before dawn, we had both dozed off. This stakeout business was starting to get old. Fortunately, there was no indication that anyone had tried to kill Jessie while we were asleep.

  The sky was clear. There would be no rain today. We rolled up our ponchos and started for the house. The tall grass was wet with dew. Before we had gone fifty yards, our pant legs were soaked from the knees down.

  The kitchen window was open, and we could smell the breakfast bacon cooking. We stopped for a moment to enjoy the smell. That's when we overheard the conversation between Jessie and Dawn, who were sitting at the kitchen table beside the window.

  "Dawn, where were you yesterday?" asked Jessie.

  "Here we go," I thought.

  "I went fishing. Why?" Dawn asked.

  "You were fishing all day?" Jessie asked.

  "Yes, why?" said Dawn.

  "Who did you go fishing with?" Jessie asked.

  "Snake's friend, F.T. Why all the questions?" said Dawn.

  "Were you down at their camp on the river?" asked Jessie.

  "Yes, I was. Why?"

  "I don't want you going there any more," said Jessie.

  "Why not?" asked Dawn.

  "l just don't think it's right. That's why," said Jessie.

  "Why not? Associating with them hasn't hurt you, so why should it hurt me?" said Dawn.

  "Because people will talk." said Jessie.

  "Who cares what they say. I'm not doing anything wrong, and you always said not to worry about what other people said, as long as you were in the right."

  "Honey, you know the people in this town have dirty little minds. If you give them the least thing to think about, they'll blow it up into something big, and later it will come back to haunt you," said Jessie.

  "Mother, I don't think it's the people in this town that have dirty minds," said Dawn.

  "What do you mean by that?" asked Jessie.

  "Mother, are you having an affair with Snake?"

  Dawn lit a cigarette. We could smell the smoke through the open window.

  "I didn't know you smoked," said Jessie.

  "Mother, there's a lot of things about me that you don't know, and there are a lot of things about you that I do know."

  "For instance," said Jessie.

  "For instance, your affair with Snake," she said.

  "What makes you think that?" asked Jessie.

  "Attitude mainly. The first clue was at the funeral home. Remember when you found the note? You left me at the car and went back to the funeral home. Just about everybody in town was there, but you brought back Snake, F.T., and Truman. Then you didn't really talk to any of them but Snake, and he didn't seem at all surprised about the note. So I figured you had talked to him before. Then we drove home. As soon as you saw the light was out on the back porch, you headed for their camp. The only problem was that no one had mentioned where they were camping. So you obviously had been there before. Then when we checked the outside of the house, you went with Snake. I went with F.T. Then later, after everyone was supposedly asleep, the two of you got together in your bedroom," said Dawn.

  "That's silly. Snake is young enough to be your brother," said Jessie.

  We had heard enough to know that if we were caught, it would be embarrassing to everyone, so we quietly headed back to camp. F.T. was not at all happy to hear that Jessie didn't approve of him. It's one thing to know it in your heart, but another thing to hear it with your own ears. I was curious as to why Jessie had said I was young enough to be Dawn's brother rather than young enough to be Jessie's son.

  I made a pot of coffee, and we started a gin rummy game. It wasn't long before Dawn arrived. She was her normal, bright, cheerful self, giving no indication of having just finished an emotional scene with her mother. We chatted for a while, and then she and F.T. headed upstream for another day of fishing.

  I figured Jessie had had enough time to cool down so I headed back to the house. I went to the back door and knocked. Jessie came to the door. I went inside. We sat at the kitchen table, and this time, I was all business. I didn't want a repeat of yesterday.

  "Did you have any problems last night?" I asked.

  "No," she said.

  "No phone calls. No one outside the window," I said.

  "No," she said.

  "I didn't think so. You see, F.T. and I have been hiding out back, watching the place all night, every night since you got the first note," I said. After Jessie and Dawn's conversation, I figured someone needed to say a kind word in our behalf, so I said it.

  "Why didn't you tell me?" she asked.

  "You never asked," I said.

  "No, really, why?" she asked.

  "It didn't seem important," aI said, brimming with false modesty.

  "Then why are you telling me now?" she asked.

  "It gives me a base for what I'm about to say. I'ye been working since the funeral on a list of suspects. Originally, I had it narrowed down to seven: Jim Henry, Buck Hill, Lou Young, Hulan, Virgil, Flo, and Buford Whaley.

  "Then Sunday night, after the funeral, while we were watching the house, a car stopped on the dirt road behind here. The driver turned off his lights when he turned in from the highway, so all we could tell was the car was light-colored. F.T. and I started down to check it out, but before we could get there, Buck Hill came along. The driver saw him and took off before Buck could catch him. I'm sure it was the killer.

  "Yesterday morning, before I saw you, I checked the cars of all the suspects. Jim Henry had the only dark car, so that eliminated him, and of course that eliminated Buck Hill, too. Now, we're left with five: Virgil, Flo, Lou Young, Hulan, and Buford Whaley. I need your help to figure out which one is our man," I said.

  "What do you want to know?" she asked.

  "Let's start with Buford Whaley. Have you had any dealings at all with Buford Whaley in the past few months?" I asked.

  "Yes," she said.

  "What were they?" I asked.

  "Not much, really. You know every year the Middle Tennessee Association of Hair Dressers, Cosmetologists, Beauticians, and Beauty Parlor Owners has a beauty contest and ball at the Tullahoma National Guard Armory?" she said.

  "Yes, I've been there," I said.

  "This year, Buford Whaley came. He'd been drinking, and he came over and asked me to dance. I turned him down. Later, when I got ready to leave, he followed me out to the car and tried to kiss me. I slapped him, and he called me a few names. Nothing serious, though," she said.

  "That might be motive enough. What about Lou Young?" I asked.

  "No, nothing," she said.

  "Are you sure? Take your time. Think hard," I said.

  "Well, there is one thing, but he wouldn't have any way of knowing it," she said.

  "What's that?" I asked.

  "The land on one side of the highway at the intersection where I want to put the traffic light is owned by the town. I've been talking to some developers from Nashville about putting up a shopping center there," she said.

  "So if you win, you're going to sell the town's land to these developers, right?" I asked.

  "Yes, but you don't have to say it like that. It'll be a good thing. The town will have the shopping center, more jobs, and the money from the sale of the land. It'll work out better for everyone," she said.

  "I see what you mean. That would wipe out Lou Young. The only business he'd have left would be the old people who couldn't get down here," I said.

  "Yes, it might hurt his business a little bit," she said.

  "Lady, did anybody ever tell you, you've got a real way with words. I think Lou Young has a good solid motive for wanting to see you dead," I said.

  "But he doesn't know about it," she said.

  "Are you sure?" I said.

  "Yes, no one knows except the developer and me," she said.

  "Who's the developer?" I
asked.

  "Cumberland Valley Shopping Centers, Inc., in Nashville," she said.

  "What about Virgil?" I asked.

  "Probably the same reason," she said.

  "What do you mean?" I asked.

  "My cousin, T. Tommy Tucker, owns Cisco's Southern Tacos, a Mexican restaurant near Manchester. It's not much, just a couple of house trailers and a beer license, and things haven't been going too well lately. So I told him that if I was elected, he could move his trailers over here and set up operation. But I'm sure he hasn't told anyone," she said.

  "Probably not, but Virgil has a way of hearing the things that people aren't saying. Before we go on, have you made any more deals with anyone about anything concerning this election?" I said.

  "No," she said.

  "Are you sure?" I said.

  "Yes," she said.

  "What about Hulan? Is there any reason he would want you dead?" I asked.

  "No, not a one that I know of," she said.

  "Okay, we'll forget Hulan for the moment. But that doesn't mean he's not a suspect. I think he has a motive, but maybe you just don't know it," I said.

  "That's a cheerful thought," said Jessie.

  "What about Flo?" I asked.

  "There's no reason that I can think of," she said.

  "Flo got married recently, but you never see her with her husband. Who did she marry?" I asked.

  "I don't know. Until you mentioned it, I didn't even know she was married," she said.

  "Was she friendly with Cindy?" I asked.

  "I guess so. They were about the same age," she said.

  "You said your pistol was stolen," I said.

  "That's right," she said.

  "Describe it for me," I said.

  "Originally, it belonged to my daddy. He bought it in a pawnshop in Chattanooga. He always said that when he saw it, he had to have it. It was a Colt thirty-eight with a short barrel. It was nickel plated and had yellow ivory handles. Someone had filed the front sight away. Daddy always said it must have belonged to a pimp," she said.