by McNay, Dan
She spotted Ted at the grocery store. He had his young daughter in the child seat and was slowly shopping, stopping to check his list. Daydee sent her father to go get fruit and wheeled her cart down the aisle of cereals. Ted’s daughter was eating grapes.
“Hey,” she said.
“Oh, hello.”
“So I saw you and wanted to find out what was happening.”
He looked at her.
“I have to do this by the book,” he said.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“You know, sometimes you look at someone and you just know who they are. What they are made of. I understand you hate cops. I may know why, but that’s neither here or there. You know me the same way I guess. Why else would you go against everything you know to come to talk to me? I need to do this by the book. Sorry.”
“Ok,” she said. “Do you tell fortunes? Read Tarot cards or something?”
He smiled.
“Not at all.”
“Edward and Rob’s son tried to kidnap us, you asshole!” she whispered.
“Your father and you?”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t call me.”
“Now you know.”
“You want me to arrest him?”
“If you want.”
“Let me look into it.”
“You are going get us killed,” Daydee said.
“Just give me a couple of days.”
“You better hope he doesn’t show up in front of me again,” she told him.
* * *
They put the tree up and tried to decorate it. It really didn’t look like much. Neither Daydee nor her father could ever remember doing it before. Her mother had never wanted the fuss of it. His father’s parents were fallen Jews and they hadn’t done anything to celebrate Hanukkah either. Daydee had never met them. Daydee could recall going to her mother’s parents in Indiana one year and her grandmother had a tree and a cardboard fireplace. But those two grandparents died in their fifties under circumstances that were never talked about. Her father had already been taken away by that time, so he didn’t know what had happened to them.
They tried. The ornaments she had bought were all hung evenly spaced and the little lights blinked off and on. It needed a star on top and some garlands or something else. She reminded herself to look again when she went back to buy him those warm socks he wanted. She covered the stand at the bottom with a green shawl she had kept from her mother’s things. Maybe a real tree would be better. That would be something for next year. God. Next year. The baby would be here. Maybe John as well. You needed a man to pull a live tree into the house. Fuck, she could do it herself once she was mobile again.
She kept waiting for the cops to show up about the shooting, but no one did. She called Ted, again but he was too busy to take her call. So Edward and Rob’s son hadn’t reported it. She wasn’t going to either. Ted was turning out to be a dud. It was an attempted kidnapping, wasn’t it? Edward would have to explain why they were at the cemetery. She didn’t quite understand what they were trying to do. Take them to Chicago and hold them captive? Or just toss them out on the sidewalk and leave? That plan made her think that Edward didn’t know that her father was under medication and conscious. Now he does. He wasn’t with the guys that had tried to grab her father when he was here alone. The whole thing was too weird. Why would Edward want them out of town for however long it would take to do something? And what did he want to do?
* * *
Daydee came out in the morning to find her father sitting on the couch in his bathrobe, crying.
“Daddy! What’s wrong?”
“I’m a dead man. With nothing to show for nothing.”
“Oh, come on. We’re warm and inside out of the cold. We’ve got a Christmas tree.”
“The drugs keep the sprites away but I weigh three hundred pounds. I can hardly lift my arm. And when I go, they’ll be there to meet me and carry me off. They ain’t ever gonna let me go!”
“You don’t know that. What if they disappear when you die?”
“This world ain’t been kind to me. Why would I expect it any different in the next? And I don’t have anything for you or your little one.”
“Daddy, don’t worry about that. I’ll be fine. The sale of the farm should set me up for the rest of my life.”
“I’m so sorry for your life. I should have been there.”
“Hey, that doesn’t matter. We did what we had to do. Can I make you some breakfast? I thought we could go Christmas shopping today. That would cheer you up.”
“You go. I don’t want nothing. Not hungry.”
“Why don’t you lie back down and I’ll tuck you in and bring you a little toast and jam.”
He complied without answering her and she turned the television on for him. The news told of another snow storm coming. When she returned with the toast and coffee, he was asleep. She sat around for a bit, watching the news. And then grew restless. His episode made her think that she might need to take him back to the doctor. Things were probably going to get worse for him. Would she even be able to take care of him when he couldn’t get out of bed anymore?
She decided to go Christmas shopping on her own. She wrote a note for him, telling him that she would be back in a couple of hours and would bring home lunch. And he was not to go out. She bundled up and locked him in and went off to Walmart again. For those socks he wanted. She bought some Christmas candy as well. And some beer.
There was a music store downtown. She headed there next. Somewhere in her early memories of him, she thought he had played a harmonica. She’d see what she could find. Driving past the diner in the way, she found Jack and Edward out on the sidewalk in front. They looked really angry with each other and Jack was poking him with a finger. They were so involved they didn’t even notice her driving by, which was just as well. What was that about?
She found the shop and went it. The choice of harmonicas was confusing. She talked to the owner for a long while before he decided what she should buy. All with a promise that they could return it if it was untouched. He couldn’t take it back with someone’s spit in it. She had it gift wrapped. By the time she made it out of the drive-through at McDonald’s it was noon.
She turned the corner on her street and immediately spotted the sheriff’s car out front. He was standing in the front yard with his gun drawn, looking up into her tree. Her father was up in the tree standing on a branch. He had his coat and wool cap on, so he must have gone out on a walk. How the hell did this happen? She honked as loudly as she could. The sheriff looked over at her.
Her father leaped from his branch. He landed on the sheriff and they both went down. Her father rolled across the icy street. She jammed on her brakes and slammed it into park and climbed out, running to her father across the slippery pavement and almost fell. He was motionless. His legs were both twisted in strange positions like both were broken. She got down on her knees. He wasn’t breathing. There was a big gash on his head which was bleeding.
The sheriff was on his back, writhing with pain. He was conscious.
“I can’t move!” he yelled.
Daydee ran to his car and got on the radio and told them an ambulance was needed and that the sheriff and her father were seriously injured. She ignored Rob and went back to her father. He wasn’t breathing. She tried giving him CPR, but she was sure it was hopeless. She kept on breathing for him until the ambulance came. It seemed like forever. The paramedic took over with oxygen and tried getting life signs. He tried the defibrillator twice with no result. She got to her feet by pulling herself up on the gurney. Another sheriff’s car arrived. It was a dream. Unreal. How could this happen?
They covered her father and put him on the stretcher. Rob must have been moved as well. He was gone when she turned. The deputy came over to take her statement. She looked at him and very slowly tried to tell him what had happened. He walked her back over to the open door of her pickup and had her sit down whil
e she told him everything she saw. The smell of French fries were all around her. She handed the bag to the deputy and asked him to take it away.
She recalled the deputy said they would give her a call when her father’s body was to be released. That right now it was criminal investigation. Did she need help parking the truck? Did she need a hand into her house? She just shook her head. He left her there. Someone must have turned the engine off. The ambulance had already left. When the deputy drove off, she pulled the truck up to where she usually parked it and, leaving the presents on the seat, she carefully walked to the front door. Her knees were skinned. The door was locked.
* * *
The snow was falling softly when she got to the cemetery. Sean had offered to help, but she turned him down. She did accept a loan of the electric blanket thing he owned for digging in the frozen ground in the winter. The plot was down the hill from the office on the back edge of the grounds. It overlooked the clump of trees where she had found him camped out. As far as she could tell it wasn’t owned by anyone. She drove her pickup down to where she had laid out the five by fifteen blanket. It had been some work to clear the snow and lay it out and then run a power cord down here from the shed. She lifted one corner and tested the ground. It had thawed overnight. She unplugged it and rolled it, and by climbing into the bed of the truck, she could pull it up. Walking back up toward the shed, she rolled the extension cord over her forearm as she went. She tried unrolling it out again up to where her mother was buried, but it wasn’t going to reach. Then she realized that running it from the office to her mother would work. Unplugging from the shed and running it from there to her mother was a bit of trudging through the snow, but she had a mission. She drove the blanket up and rolled it out again, this time over her father’s first grave. She had cleared that snow the day before.
A break in the office to warm up and a cup of coffee from the thermos she had brought, was enough get her going again. The baby kicked as she went down to the backhoe. It was odd to watch your belly jump. She drove the backhoe down and opened the grave for the funeral on Saturday. It was still a couple of days away. Maybe she would hire Sean to close it after. It was nearing lunch time when she finished and drove the backhoe up by the office. Sarah arrived.
“I’ve been looking all over for you,” she said. “You couldn’t hire someone to do this?”
“Come on in the office. There’s coffee.”
Sarah followed her inside. She handed Daydee the morning’s newspaper. The headline read: Sheriff Turner Seriously Injured. The article talked about how he was attacked while in a criminal investigation and had broken his back. Surgery was scheduled in two days. A specialist was coming in from Springfield. He was in intensive care and was in a serious condition. His attacker had died at the scene. No name of the attacker was given. Nor any explanation of the investigation.
“They released his body to me yesterday. I had the Templeton Funeral Home go and get him. So I guess the investigation is closed.”
“Why didn’t they give more of the details? Everyone in town knows it was your father.”
“How did you find out?” Daydee asked.
“From Hanna.”
“Oh, well that’s hardly the whole town. I called Sean for his help.”
“How are you?”
“I’m ok,” Daydee said. “Just really pissed at this fucking town. My father took Rob out to help me. I hope he dies as well.”
She told Sarah the details.
“Jesus Christ. What a horrible thing to watch.”
“It still feels like a nightmare. It just doesn’t feel real.”
“You had lunch? You want some company?” Sarah asked.
“I can’t eat. I need to return the presents I bought him.”
Daydee began to cry. Sarah hugged her and Daydee laid her head on her friend’s shoulder.
“I bought a goddamn harmonica,” she said.
Daydee wiped her eyes and withdrew from her friend’s arms.
“He was going to die in another few months anyway. He wasn’t feeling very good.”
“Anything you need, love?”
“You want to come back here in the morning? I could use some help with the old grave that my father’s name is on. The ground should be thawed by morning and I want to take up whatever is in that grave.”
“Is that legal?”
“I own the graves and the cemetery. And the backhoe.”
“Ok. What time?”
“Early. 8:00?”
Sarah nodded.
“Don’t mention it to a soul, please,” Daydee pleaded.
“My lips are zipped.”
They locked up and left.
* * *
She had a sleepless night. Why hadn’t anyone figured out her father was the one that died? Wouldn’t Edward think, if he found out, that her father’s first grave would probably be opened? He had to know. Why was he arguing with Jack? Rob’s son would tell Edward the details. Or Rob himself if he was able to talk. She just knew that she would show up in the morning and the blanket would have been removed and the ground would be too hard to dig in. She was supposed to hang out there all night long with the shotgun? She knew that’s what she should have done, but she was too tired – too discouraged. The presents were still sitting on the seat in the truck. She couldn’t bring herself to touch them. This was to be her first Christmas.
She dozed on her moist pillow and dreamed herself back out to the cemetery. With the shotgun in hand. And the figures all standing around the open grave in the dark. You couldn’t tell who they were or why they were there. If she ran for the backhoe, would they chase her? The hole had to be bigger. Why had she dug it so small? Like it was for a child!
She stirred, not knowing how long she had slept. It was still dark outside. The clock said 5:15. Getting up, she showered and dressed and drove out to the grounds, certain of what she would find. But the blanket was intact, not unplugged, not moved. The ground underneath had thawed.
Bringing the backhoe up, she began to dig, being as careful as she could. She didn’t want to smash it. If it was in a burial vault, it would not be so worrisome, but she had no record of the grave or what was in it. The whole thing was really stupid. She had no intention at all of burying her father next to her mother. She suddenly realized what Edward had been trying to do. He was trying to get her and her father out of the way, so he could come out here and do the same thing she was doing. Except he would haul it off somewhere and it would never be found out. No evidence, no witnesses. This grave was just something buried, everyone hoping it would never turn up again. Just like her.
She hit it. Climbing out, she approached the hole. The casket looked intact. It was still covered by soil on the top. She swept one end and found the handle. She went off to the shed for the chains she had noticed hanging there. This was going to take a little bit of effort to get down in there and wrap the chain on it to pull it out.
Sarah drove up.
“Just in time!”
“I should have gotten some strong guy to come along,” Sarah said.
But she looked ready for duty in her jeans and boots. Sarah climbed in the hole. A couple of tries were needed before the chain was securely attached to the casket and backhoe well enough to actually pull the casket out of ground. Daydee dragged it to an open spot. They brought crowbars from the shed and tried prying it open. Daydee wasn’t much help. She didn’t have any way to put her back into it. They were both nervous about what they would find.
Sarah finally cracked the viewing door and they pulled it open. There was the remains of a man in it. The body was pretty decomposed. This is what we look like? Daydee asked herself. There was some smell, but it seemed to dissipate quickly in the brisk winter air. They were sweating with their work.
On top of the chest of the body was a jacket.
“It’s a football letterman jacket from Paris High,” Daydee said.
“This is Edward’s father, I recognize his wedding r
ing,” Sarah said. “Shit. Edward said he died in a nursing home in Florida. So, what now?”
Daydee explained to her about Ted, the Chief of Police. They went to the office to give him a call. He called back almost immediately, telling them not to touch anything and he would be right there. They broke out the coffee Sarah had brought and waited.
The wind came up. Outside the office window there was a small twister of snow moving across the grounds and then it feel apart. No clouds at all. Just sun. The Paris City Police car came in the entrance and pulled up at the office. Daydee and Sarah went out to meet him.
“It’s over here,” Daydee directed him.
They walked around the backhoe to the casket.
“I thought I had asked you to wait,” Ted said.
“It’s my plot and my cemetery. My father is dead because you wanted to wait.”
“Your father shouldn’t have resisted arrest.”
“Oh, fuck you!” Daydee said.
“It is Edward’s father,” Sarah interrupted. “It’s his wedding ring and it looks like Edward’s Letter jacket from Paris High was buried with him.”
Ted didn’t say anything and knelt in the snow to look over the body. He got up without touching anything.
“I’m trying to conduct a proper investigation,” he told the women.
Edward walked out to them from behind the backhoe. His foot was in an injury boot. He limped toward them. Daydee jumped.
“Motherfucker,” she said to Ted. Her hand was inside her coat pocket already. She gripped her little revolver there.
“Morning, ladies. Ted.”
“So, this is your father?” Ted asked him.
Edward nodded.
“Mr. Stills, you are under arrest.” Ted pulled his cuffs off his belt. “Hold your hands out.”
“What the fuck?” Edward said. “You are joking? You are supposed to be helping me!”
“The money you handed me has been put into evidence and I have our conversations recorded.”
Edward backed away and pulled a gun from his coat pocket. Ted tried to pull his revolver out, but Edward shot him. Ted fell.
“Well ladies,” he aimed the gun at Sarah. “It looks like you get to help me.”