Mercy Killer

by T S Paul

  “Genevieve, I’m going to ask you just once. Did you take Mrs. Strickland’s wallet and things from her desk?” Sheriff Smith asked me. He and Griff, his deputy, confronted me in the headmaster’s office.

  Headmaster Meyer grunted in disgust. “She’s the worst student here. Of course she did it. Why are you even bothering to ask her?”

  Cutting his eyes to one side, Smith glared at the headmaster. “Stop. My question is for Genevieve, here.” Bending down to my level the big man asked again, “Well?”

  “No, sir. I didn’t do it,” I replied.

  “Liar!” Headmaster Meyer shouted.

  Sheriff Smith straightened up and turned towards Meyer. “Step outside, please.”

  “I will do no such thing. This is my office,” Meyer said, scowling.

  Smith said a single word and pointed his finger, “Griff?”

  Grabbing the headmaster by the arm roughly, Griff manhandled him out of the room. “Come quietly and I won’t lock you up for being an asshole.”

  When both men left the office, the sheriff closed the door. “Now. Your story please.”

  Bowing my head a little, I forced a tear to come out. After the first beating by both the headmaster and my grandmother, I’d promised myself to never cry out, to never shed a tear, to never, ever give in. My life, my rules. Going to jail for something I didn’t do wasn’t part of any of my plans, though.

  Both my eyes were brimming with unshed tears as I looked back at “Uncle” Bear. “There was no way it was me. Grandfather dropped me off at seven sharp this morning. I owed Miss Cumming a hundred “I won’t talk in class” sentences on the board, so I went straight to her classroom. First bell was at eight and classes started. I had history with Mr. King, and he made me stand in the corner the entire time. You can ask them.”

  Sheriff Smith frowned. “Is this place so hard for you, young Gen?”

  “Yes. But it’ll be ok. Unc…I mean Sheriff. They just hate me here. Did you know Mrs. Spalding was related to that Luther guy?” I inserted innocently.

  Smith’s eyes widened. “Looks like you might make a good investigator or something one day. You could even work for me when you get older.”

  I sniffed as if crying. “Did you love my momma?”

  “Gen…” The sheriff shook his head. “Now is not the time for that. Not sure when or if there is a time for that. Buck up. She wouldn’t want you to give in to the assholes and you know it. I’ll investigate this, but you best not be lying to me now.”

  “I’m not. Thanks for the offer but I intend to leave this place as soon as I’m able,” I said, showing intelligence beyond my years.

  Turns out he did investigate discovering relationships unknown to the town gossips about the families involved. The items missing were found among Mrs. Spaulding’s things at her house. On the kitchen table, actually. All potential charges against me were officially dropped, at least by the school. Spaulding was suspended for a month without pay. That didn’t stop the headmaster from taking his revenge.

  “Don’t think you’re getting away with embarrassing this school like this, young lady. If it wasn’t for that battle-axe of a grandmother, your ass would’ve been out of here a long time ago. In payment for the disgraceful events this afternoon, I have a special assignment for you. Yard work,” Meyer said with a smile.

  I couldn’t believe the man. They accuse me of stealing, get proven wrong, and then punish me for it. “What kind of yard work? Mr. Alston not able to start his mower today?”

  Alexander Alston was the groundskeeper for the school and an all-around nice person. He was one of the very few who’d never said a cross word to my face.

  Meyer smiled. I could almost see the evil gleam in his eyes. “Our school pays hundreds of dollars a year for groundskeepers. We’ve decided to make use of students such as yourself who need help. From now on, there will be no more study hall or after-school detention. You and any other miscreants we find will do that job for us.”

  “What did you do now, Miss Gen?” Francis asked me as I staggered into the kitchen.

  I must have looked a sight. My school uniform stuck to me like glue, leaves and grass in my hair, and dirty shoes. Mowing, raking, and digging was harder than it looked. Farmer wasn’t something I wanted to be in the future.

  Grimacing, I filled both ladies in on my newest troubles. “I hate that man. Why does grandmother allow him to do this kind of thing?”

  Both Were women just stared at me. On the reservation, there was only the most basic of an education system. Kids were expected to work, not learn. I’d gotten closer to these two than my grandmother in the year or so since Mom’s trial.

  Waving my hands, I explained. “Forget I asked you. Humans. We do the damnedest things.”

  Francis grunted, clearing her throat. “It’s a status thing with her. Her father sent her there, too.”

  I nodded, acknowledging her comment. Francis would know. She’d been here for years, almost as long as the reservation had been in the area. “Grandmother is my cross to bear. Headmaster Meyer is another matter, though.”

  Tipping the kitchen chair back against the wall I started thinking of ways to get rid of him. It needed to be an accident, though. An outright murder would attract too much attention. Spaulding was on my list as well, but Meyer moved up on that list when he made me the lawn girl.

  The perfect accident is hard to think up. Sabotaging the man’s car was out. I’d already done that once, just last year. I closed my eyes and savored that moment.

  Mr. Pace was CHO’s primary science teacher and the biggest liar in the place.

  “Open your books to chapter one. Science is the study of the natural world through experimentation but as Christians, you only have to understand it represents man’s knowledge. Tampering with God’s laws is against the faith and Him,” Pace droned. “In my class, we’ll be looking at the world that God gave us. Save the advancement crap for college.”

  Girls weren’t expected to know anything about science, so Pace never called on us. Ever since the death of ‘Uncle Luthor’, I’d been interested in how the body worked and how blood flows through the body. Not being able to ask anything made me mad. So mad that I started plotting against him.

  How do you kill a man without touching him directly? That was my first challenge, so I started watching him on the sly as much as I could. Where he went, lived, shopped, and how he got there. Small towns were nice, in that there wasn’t all that much ground to cover, and that most everyone knew everyone. Finding out most of what I wanted wasn’t too hard.

  “Young Gen, is there a reason you’re so far from home?” Sheriff Smith asked me as he leaned against his patrol car.

  Internally, I was wincing. A police car had pulled up behind my hiding spot and I hadn’t noticed at all. Picking up the small bucket next to me, I turned toward the man I used to call Uncle Bear. “Would you like some berries, Sheriff?”

  Bear frowned as he scrutinized me. “Berries? What kind?”

  Smiling, I tried to keep my voice both calm and light. “Boysenberries and blueberries. The bushes down around Grandma’s are all picked out, so I thought I’d try higher up the mountain.”

  I wasn’t telling him a complete untruth. The estate did indeed have a multitude of berry bushes, but the church lady considered them to be a crop, so she had sold them. If I looked really hard along the edges of the property I might, might, come away with a small bucket or two, but that would take me at least an entire day. Up here, the plants were everywhere, and for the most part, free. Or at least unclaimed.

  “These for sellin’ or eatin’?” Bear asked me. He pushed off the car and took a single step closer to me.

  “Eating. Grandmother would tan my hide if she caught me selling stuff. Especially berries. You know that,” I answered.

  I held out the bucket for him to inspect and he pulled out a small handful. Rolling them around in his hand for a moment, he sampled them. “Not bad.” Bear motioned with his han
d. “When I was about your age, I used to pick blackberries like that.”

  “Those things are too prickly for me. The last time I went into a patch I got stickers all over me and ripped my new dress. Blueberries are easier,” I explained to him.

  “True,” he said, and he gave me kind of a sad smile. “You be careful up here all alone, child. We haven’t had any bear sightings in a while but that doesn’t mean they aren’t around. The Newton farm is just over that rise as well, and they don’t appreciate trespassers of any kind. Your gran would be hard pressed to tangle with those folks, so you might reconsider your berry picking spots, understand?” He popped the last of his berries into his mouth.

  I nodded. “Should I ask them first?”

  “No. Just think of this as your last time up here without supervision. Check with your grandpappy first. If he says it’s okay, then let him deal with the Newtons. Okay?” the sheriff asked me.

  “May I take the berries?” I asked him. Turning to my right, I could see both Mr. Pace’s house and the road down the mountain. “I’ll start walking.”

  Bear shook his head. “Climb on in. You can ride down with me.”

  Stepping closer to the big man, I handed him the bucket even as I reached for the rear door of his sedan.

  “No. Up front with me,” Bear directed. “Only bad people ride back there.”

  Part of me wanted to contest that statement, but the reasoning part of me could only smile. He didn’t think I was a bad person!

  It was the ride down that confirmed for me how I was going to kill Mr. Pace. In my head it made total sense, but in practice I knew it was probably impossible. I needed to talk to Grandfather about it. He might know the answer I needed.

  Five

  Driving down a mountain was easy. Stopping wasn’t. Sheriff Smith may have known his way around, but he took all the curves and bumps extra slow on his way down.

  “When you learn to drive, you be careful. It’s roads like this one that get folks killed,” Bear explained to me. He was pressing on his brakes a lot. “Do you see all the curves and dips?”

  I croaked out, “Yes,” even as the car lurched to one side again. Even with the seatbelt on, I was having to brace myself against the door to keep from falling over.

  “Each one of them used to be a house or homestead. See, when the early settlers came they would make a road to their house, but not past it. They only needed to go to town, not anywhere else. So as more and more folks built houses, they would make the road go farther and farther. Why cut a new one when one already existed? The houses might not be there anymore, but the road still is.” Bear jerked the wheel suddenly and applied the brake as the car slid through another turn throwing rocks and dirt everywhere. The shocks on the car barely kept it level. “Fun, right?”

  “Sure.” It was almost making me sick, but it gave me such a good idea at the same time. Why burn down the man’s house when I could use the mountain against him? It might be the perfect accident, and so much less to carry up there to do the job. “Don’t you worry about sliding off the road?”

  Hitting a low spot the car seemed to jump and swerve as Bear wrenched the wheel to stay on the road. Bursting through a patch of roadside weeds the car’s presence frightened half to death a pair of crows and a rabbit.

  “Little girl, I’ve been driving up and down this mountain half my life. I’ve got this,” Bear exclaimed as the road suddenly leveled out. “See, no problem.”

  I nodded. “It looks a lot less hilly on foot.”

  “That’s the city in you showing. Your momma should have let you out of the house more often,” the sheriff replied.

  Staring at his face, I saw something there I hadn’t seen before. Regret. Bear truly missed my mother. He looked over at me and then quickly looked away. “She’ll come home one day, Gen.”

  Continuing to stare, I corrected him. “No she won’t. And you know it.”

  Bear refused to look at me the rest of the way home. Not wanting Grandmother to see the police car, I asked him to drop me off at the corner.

  “You stay off that mountain now, understand?” Bear told me as he drove off.

  Cutting through the woods bordering the estate, I went straight for Grandfather’s barn. Making Mr. Pace’s death look like an accident would take more planning than I had thought. I knew so very little about how cars worked, but Ernest Vogel did. Maybe it was time for some engineering lessons.

  “Tell me again why you want to learn this stuff?” my grandfather asked as he slid out from under the 1957 Chevy that was up on blocks.

  “Because. Do I have to have a reason?” I replied. The former barn-turned-garage was Grandfather’s domain. The church lady didn’t come out here, ever. If she needed him, she would either call on the intercom or send one of the help. Getting her hands dirty wasn’t part of her personality.

  Pushing himself up to a sitting position, Grandfather looked me in the eyes. “If she finds out, there’ll be trouble.”

  I shrugged. “So? It’s not like she hasn’t punished me before.”

  “True. How about this. I’ll tell your grandmother that you’re doing some work out here for me, cleaning up and sorting through boxes, and you help me with this new project of mine.” He looked at me sternly and shook his finger at me. “I expect you to be on time, right after school, and dressed for messes. Old clothes or something she won’t miss. Lots of grease and dirt out here. Understood?”

  I nodded. This was the most Grandfather had said to me in entire year I’d been here. I was starting to think he didn’t know how to talk! “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. Now off you go. Dinner’s in a half hour and she’s already looking for you,” he pointed out.

  Closing my eyes, I shook my head. “Sorry. I was picking berries.”

  Grandfather smiled. “I know. You’ve got berry juice all over you. Best to not let her see that, old clothes or not. She’s possessive of those bushes out there.”

  “I’ll change in the laundry. Thank you.” Jumping to my feet, I ran toward the house. If I was careful, she wouldn't see me.

  The next day after I got home, I started work with my grandfather.

  “This is a 1957 Chevy Bel Air Sport model. I bought it new just last year,” Grandfather explained. The car was still up on blocks but now the engine was out of it.

  Wiggling my fingers at the shell of a car in front of me, I asked the obvious question. “What happened to it?”

  “Did you know I’m an engineer?” Grandfather asked me.

  I nodded. “Momma said something once about you. I thought she meant you drove trains.”

  “Ha! She would let you believe that,” Grandfather chuckled. He shook his head in remembrance. “Not that kind of engineer. No choo choos here. I’m the sort that builds things. Engines and mechanical wonders are more my sort of thing. I like to tinker on things.”

  He ran his hands down the front of the car and over the fender. “Ford rolled out something called a Ranchero this year. It’s sort of a car truck hybrid. Do you know what I mean by hybrid?”

  I screwed up my face and cocked my head just a bit. Science fascinated me, and I’d been reading on a more advanced level for more than a year now, but I didn’t want him to know that. “Maybe? Is it when you take two different things and make one thing?”

  “Exactly! If I had a Kewpie doll I’d give you one!” Grandfather smiled at me. “So Ford. Being a Chevy man, I don’t want one of those, so I thought I’d make my own. A man, who shall remain nameless, that I went to school with slipped me a set of plans for what Ford is building. Using them as a base, I created my own model.”

  Pointing around the barn, he started naming off car models. “That over there is a 1956 Nomad and the other one is a 3100. It’s my intention to take the front end of the Bel Air on the Nomad frame and use the rear end of the 3100 as the bed. It will have that distinctive nose, but the ass of a truck. The Fleet side trim from that truck should match up pretty well with the Bel Air.”


  I didn’t know anything about cars other than they looked easy to drive. Mom didn’t have one and Grandmother only used a limo. It sounded a bit crazy, though. “Why not just make the truck all fancy?”

  “Good question. I like pretty things and driving a plain old truck is boring. Trust me, this will be so much fun when it’s done,” he replied. “Besides, you know your grandmother won’t ride in it.”

  It took more than my allotted week to figure out what I needed to know. The science and engineering part of how cars work was totally fascinating to me. If I wasn’t so set on going into the medical field, I might do this. The tiny voice in the back of my head thought that knowing this stuff would help me along the way. Especially in my hobbies.

  “How does the brake system work on this car? I mean you told me that all the fluid is up here, but how does it get down there?” I pointed to the engine.

  Grandfather followed my finger and stared down at the engine. “Right. That’s the master cylinder. What happens is when you apply pressure inside the cockpit of the car it compresses the fluid inside the lines, pushing the brake pads forward. It’s the friction they cause that ultimately stops the car. Without the fluid the brakes barely work.”

  “Right. So how does it get to the brakes?” I asked. There were a couple of lines coming out of the part, but I couldn’t see where they went.

  “Ah. Let me show you. Grab that roller over there.” Grandfather pointed to a mechanics roller board. “Hop on and lie down. We’ll slip up under the chassis and I’ll show you.”

  Using his flashlight and screwdriver, grandfather showed me all the connections. Where the fuel pump sat and where the lines were. How to tell the difference between them and the brakes. What tools to use to disconnect and what to look for if they leaked. “You’re a bit young right now, but in the future this all might come in handy. A little technical knowledge is good for you.”