by Ann Mullen
“I don’t know, Mom. Why do people do some of the things they do?”
“Evil—it’s everywhere. I never did anything to him. Why is he lying dead on my floor? This didn’t have to happen. He had no right to break into my house! It’s his own fault he’s dead. He never should’ve come here.”
“Let’s go to the utility room and take off our shoes. We don’t want to spread blood all over the house. We can wash up in the laundry tub. Watch out for the pieces of splintered wood on the floor.”
Mom and I walked over to the laundry room and took off our shoes. I pulled out two washcloths and a couple of towels from the linen cabinet and handed one of each to Mom. We stood by the laundry tub washing the blood from our faces and arms. Pink, watered-down blood filled the bottom surface of the tub as it ran down the drain. It was an experience I’ll never forget—and don’t want to go through ever again. I wasn’t so much concerned for myself as I was for my mother.
Mom finally broke down and cried as we stood there together washing the stain of death from our bodies. Not being able to hold back any longer, I cried, too. I put my arm around her and rocked back and forth.
“You go ahead and cry, Mom,” I said as I rinsed the blood from my washcloth and then started washing the specks of leftover blood from her face. “This is a horrible thing to happen to anyone, but we didn’t have a choice. He would’ve killed us. He had the smell of death on him. It wasn’t his first time, I’m sure. I think he’s killed before.”
“What do you mean, smell of death?” Mom asked between her sobs.
“When Billy and I started doing investigative work together, he taught me things, and one of the first things he taught me was about the smell of death. Normally, killing makes a person’s adrenaline soar. Sweat and a foul odor seeps from their pores. It might be strong or the odor could be faint. The level of stench depends on the degree of violence. If the crime is brutal and bloody, the smell most likely will be putrid, whereas, if the crime is a slash and run, the criminal might smell as if he’s worked out in the hot sun and hasn’t had a bath. Either way, the smell of death reeks. I don’t know if Billy was pulling my leg or if this was some Cherokee thing they know that we don’t, but to me, it struck a chord. I smelled a putrid odor as soon as I ran to the kitchen. The first thing that popped into my head was what Billy had said. I knew we were headed for trouble and this man had to be stopped. We stopped him, Mom.” I turned and pointed to the body on the floor. “That could’ve been us. Try to think of it like that. It could’ve been me and you on that floor.”
I took a couple of steps toward the kitchen table, grabbed a chair and then set it by the laundry tub. “Here, Mom. Sit down and rest. I’m going to call the sheriff.”
“He was breathing on the back of my neck with that hot, stinky breath. It was so awful, Jesse. When I managed to turn around and look at him, his face was sweaty and little beads of dirty, smelly sweat ran down it in streaks. And then there was all that blood—all warm and gooey. I can’t put the feel of it out of my mind. It was scary, Jesse. I looked death in the face and it terrified me. I thought we were going to die. I was afraid he was going to kill you—that was my worst fear at the time. I couldn’t let him hurt my child.” She sat down on the chair and looked up at me. “I just couldn’t! I had to do whatever I could to stop him. I knew he’d hurt you after he finished with me and I couldn’t let that happen! You’re my baby, Jesse. A mama has a right to protect her child, doesn’t she?” Mom cried.
I hugged her. “Yes, a mama does. You did the right thing.”
“I’ve never hurt a soul in my life.”
“I know you haven’t, Mom.”
She hung her head and said, “God, forgive me.”
“Stay here, Mom. I have to call the police.”
I walked over to the wall phone and picked up the bloody receiver from the floor. I took the wet washcloth and wiped it as clean as I could. I heard the beep-beep one normally gets when the phone has been off the hook too long. I pushed down the receiver holder and then released it. A dial tone clicked in. I pressed the keys for 911 and swore from that moment on, I would never whine about an outdated wall phone again, because this one probably had saved our lives.
“911, please state your emergency.”
“A man broke into our house and we killed him. You need to send the sheriff out.” I gave the dispatcher the necessary information and she assured me the police were on their way. I clicked the holder again and waited for a dial tone. I punched the number for my house and after what seemed like an eternity, Sarah answered.
“Sarah, I need to talk to Billy. It’s an emergency.”
Sensing the urgency in my voice, she replied, “I’ll get him right away.”
“What is it, Jesse?” he asked with concern in his voice when he finally got to the phone. “Is everything all right?”
“No, it’s not. You need to get over here right now. A guy broke into Mom’s house and…”
“And what? What happened, `ge ya?”
“He’s dead, Billy.”
“What do you mean, he’s dead?”
“I mean, we killed him. Mom stabbed him in the neck with a butcher knife and I hit him on the head with one of Dad’s heavy trophies. It’s pretty awful over here, Billy.”
“Don’t do anything until I get there.”
“I didn’t know what to do, so I called the police.” I began to cry again.
“Don’t worry, `ge ya. I’m on my way. When the sheriff gets there, tell him a man broke into the house and you had to defend yourselves. If he wants more details, tell him you want to wait for your lawyer and that he’s on his way. Do not make a statement. I’ll call Russ.”
Billy hung up the phone without saying good-bye.
I placed the receiver back in its cradle and went back to comfort Mom. I knew she was going to have a hard time dealing with this.
Mom is an old North Carolina girl and comes from a very religious family. She was raised as a Baptist, but most importantly, she was raised in a loving home with strong family values—it was by these values she raised her own children.
My brother, Jack, and my sister, Claire always did the right thing, while I was known as the rebellious one—but that had nothing to do with the way I was brought up. Mom made sure I was taught right from wrong. She instilled moral standards in all her children. It was just that sometimes, I was the one who ventured off the beaten path. So to have something like this happen while I was around would not surprise anyone.
“Billy’s on his way. He said he was going to call Russ and that we weren’t to make any kind of a statement until we have our lawyer present.”
The minutes dragged by as we waited for the sheriff to show up. The longer we waited, the more nervous I became. Having a bloody, dead body not five feet from me was unsettling.
I looked at the kitchen clock. “How long is it going to take the police to get here?”
“It’s only been four minutes since you called 911, Jesse. I’ve been watching the clock. I needed something to take my mind off…”
The sound of police sirens stopped Mom short.
I took a step into the kitchen and could see the flashing lights through the front window. I reached over, took Mom by the hand and said, “Come with me. We need to go let the cops in. Don’t look at him, Mom.”
She took my hand and we walked in silence to the front door, trying to avoid looking at the corpse on the floor. I opened the door and the two of us stood there staring at the police cars that filled the front yard. We both shivered even though the evening was warm. I was so relieved when I saw Cole’s face, I started to cry. Russ Shank was right behind him.
Cole rushed through the door and put his arms around us.
“Where’s the body, Mrs. Watson,” Sheriff Wake Hudson asked as he walked into the living room.
Mom and I looked at each other and then I pointed to the kitchen.
He looked in that direction and then back to us.’
/> “Deputy James, would you please escort them outside? They look as if they could use some fresh air.” He glanced over at Russ. “I see your lawyer’s here. How are you Russ?”
“I’m fine, sheriff. Thanks for asking.”
Sheriff Hudson looked back at us and said, “We can talk as soon as you’re up to it, Mrs. Watson. My men need time to examine the crime scene and since you have a lawyer present, you might want to take the time to confer with him.”
As soon as he said that, Mom started crying. “Are we going to need a lawyer?”
“It’s always wise to have one, but in this case, it looks pretty cut and dry. You told the dispatcher a man broke into your house and you killed him. You have every right to protect yourselves. As long as you’re telling the truth, you have nothing to worry about.”
“In that case, we’ll exercise our right to counsel. No offense, sheriff, but I know how quickly the tables can be turned,” I said, looking at him.
I held onto Mom’s hand as Cole led us outside and out of the way of the onslaught of the other deputies. He took Mom over to the porch swing and sat down with her. Russ and I stood next to them as I continued to hold her hand.
It devastated me to see the sadness in her eyes. She was a broken person. All I could think about was how I was going to help her recover from this tragedy. I was so worried about her that I wasn’t the least bit remorseful that we had just killed a man. I’m sure that later I would probably have nightmares, but for now, I had to help my mother. My stomach was queasy at the thought that my mother could be the one lying dead on the kitchen floor. What would’ve happened if I hadn’t been here? What if she’d been alone? She’d most likely be dead. The thought of that made me want to go back inside, kick that man in the head, and stomp him until there was nothing left to stomp. I wanted to brutalize him like he tried to do to us. A second later, I was leaning over the porch railing, puking. I felt as if I was going to pass out as I slid down to my knees, crying.
Cole jumped up and came to me. He put his arm around my waist and helped me to the swing. I sat down next to Mom and immediately felt better just being close to her.
We sat there until I saw Billy’s Dodge truck pull into the driveway. I jumped up as he ran past the deputies standing in the yard. They didn’t even try to stop him. He got to the porch and sprinted up the steps. He hugged me and then turned to Mom. He held onto my hand as he sat down beside her and cradled her in his other arm. She started to cry again.
“I’m going to hell, Billy,” she said. “I killed a man.”
“I doubt that very seriously,” he assured her. “God gave you the strength to do what you had to do. He will not punish you for it. He made you strong and gave you the will to survive. The first thing the Cherokees are taught is to protect their own. It’s your God-given right. No, he stood beside you today when you saved yourself and your daughter from harm. Trust me, he was there with you. You should feel no shame.”
His words were a welcomed relief. Mom stopped crying and slowly pulled herself together.
“I need to take a shower,” she said. “I tried to wash it off, but I’m still covered with his blood. I feel dirty.”
Cole, who had been standing there for our support said, “We have to work the scene, but I’m sure the sheriff wouldn’t mind if you went back in and took a shower. He’ll probably want your clothes so they can be examined for any trace evidence that might be present.”
“I don’t understand,” I said. “All we have on us is his blood.”
“You never know, Jesse. You could have DNA from the killer that might not even be related to this assault. Let me talk to Sheriff Hudson and see what he has to say, okay?”
“Make if fast, please,” I said. “Mom needs to get out of here and I’m sure she doesn’t want to go anywhere covered in blood.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” Cole turned and went inside. He returned within seconds and said, “Sheriff Hudson wants to talk to you before you do anything.”
Before anyone could reply, Sheriff Hudson walked out onto the porch. At the same time, the two deputies in the front yard jumped into their cruisers and pulled out of the driveway heading up the mountain.
“Where’re they going?” I asked.
“We have a real situation on our hands here,” Sheriff Hudson said.
Sheriff Hudson is a small man, unlike his deputies who are huge, muscular men, strong enough to bring even the toughest criminal to his knees. They were used to running Greene County with an iron fist. Before Wake Hudson’s arrival, the old sheriff and his deputies were known to have knocked a few heads together to bring peace to the community. They say the old sheriff cleaned up the town, and all but eliminated the flow of drugs into Greene County. However, in the process he made a lot of enemies along the way and wasn’t reelected. But when Sheriff Wake Hudson got elected, things changed. He kept the communities safe without the use of too much brute force, except when absolutely necessary. He had the respect of his men and everyone who lived in the county. He was considered fair and just, which was just what this town needed. He almost eliminated moonshining and illegal guns on the streets, and he kept the drug flow to a minimum. If people in the community wanted their pot or other illegal substances, they had to get past the new sheriff in town. Most potheads and users of harder substances had to branch out and go to Charlottesville, Gordonsville or as far away as Culpeper to make their purchases. But even those towns had their own way of dealing with drug users and it was getting harder and harder for users to score. The city of Charlottesville is a college town and we all know that college towns often have a high rate of drug users (mostly pot) because the new students from other cities bring their drugs with them. But the Chief of Police took a hard stance and hopefully was winning the war on drugs… if that’s possible. As long as crack is out there on the streets, the war is never over.
“What’s the deal, sheriff?” Billy asked.
Sheriff Hudson looked at Mom and then to me and asked, “How deep are you two into this mess with Daisy Clark?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” I replied, acting as if I was totally confused by his question.
“Come on, Jesse. Help me out here. I know the two of you went to Alice Aiken’s funeral today with Daisy and Gabe Clark. I was there, remember? Now I know you’re involved in something that you shouldn’t be. How many times have I told you to let us do our jobs? You’re making matters worse by being in the company of this woman and you’re hindering our investigation. Not to mention the fact that you’re putting yourselves in danger.”
“What investigation?” Mom asked. “Alice came to you with her suspicions and you brushed her off. Now she’s dead. She was a friend of mine and I plan to keep after Daisy until I break her.”
“Or until you both get yourselves killed. Stay out of this. We’ve had her under surveillance ever since Alice Aikens made those claims.”
“Unfortunately, you can’t seem to get anything on her,” Mom said, belligerently. “She’s not in jail, is she?”
“We don’t have enough evidence to arrest her. As soon as we can...”
“What about your eyewitness?”
“We can’t locate her. It seems she’s disappeared. The last time anyone saw her was the day she came into the station and made her statement.”
“Oh, that’s a fine how-do-you-do. Three women are dead, and now a witness is missing. What does that tell you?”
“It tells me that we might have a serial killer on our hands and the two of you had better stay away from Daisy Clark until we can either eliminate her as a suspect, or put her behind bars.”
“So you do think she’s a killer.”
“Something strange is going on, that’s for sure,” Sheriff Hudson said. “We now have a bigger problem to deal with.”
“What’s that?” Billy asked.
“The intruder lying dead on your kitchen floor is Kansas Moon.”
“What an odd name,” Mom said. She seemed re
lieved to finally be able to put a name to the face… as if that would help her deal with her distress.
“Who would name someone after a state? Kansas… what kind of name is that?” I sneered.
But it wasn’t the name that repulsed me; it was the person lying covered in blood on my mother’s floor. I was filled with hatred for him. I thought about my mother. This is her place. How will she ever be able to return to the final home she had shared with my father and be able to relive her precious memories of her soul mate without thinking about what happened here today? This place will never be the same for her. I was quickly becoming more furious than I was when I struck the intruder in the head. Now I wanted blood. I wanted to hurt him again. Suddenly, I realized I wasn’t as all right as I previously thought I was. My concern for my mother overshadowed an extreme force in me, a force that would allow me to go back in there and pulverize his body with a baseball bat… or a hammer. I thought about my earlier vision of kicking him in the head and I knew I had to do something to get rid of these evil thoughts before it destroyed me and turned me into another Daisy Clark. I was afraid I was going postal. My stomach churned.
“What’s this bigger problem you mentioned, sheriff?” Billy asked, raising an eyebrow.
One look at the sheriff’s face and I knew there was an ocean current getting ready to rise up and suck us all in. We were getting ready to drown.
“Kansas Moon is Daisy Clark’s brother.”
“What?” Billy asked in shock. “Are you serious?”
“I knew who he was the minute I laid eyes on him,” Sheriff Hudson said. “There’ve been several complaints filed against him over the years, but never anything too serious—mostly trespassing or an occasional newspaper theft from someone’s box, or food stolen from someone’s garden. He’s mentally slow, if you know what I mean, and up until now, he was harmless.”
“So what you’re saying is that if he’d been locked up for his past offenses, this might not have happened,” I said, furious at the failure of our sheriff’s office for not protecting the community from this killer.