by David Archer
“Hey, Bryce,” he said as he opened the door. “What is it?”
Bryce licked his lips before he spoke. “Chance, there’s a big uproar going on,” he said. “Manuel Baldizon, that boy’s daddy, he’s got all his family out looking for the people that did this. I was here when they took your grandpa, and your grandmother said you were coming. I just want to be sure you don’t get involved in that mess, you hear me?”
“You don’t have to worry about me,” Chance said. “I’ve got enough to deal with right now. And, if you want to know the truth, I don’t want anything to do with his family. If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t have to bury my little sister. Would I, now?”
Bryce made a sad face and shrugged. “Chance, we never know when something like this is going to happen. When it’s your time, I guess it’s just your time…”
Chance reacted without thinking, reaching out and grabbing Bryce by his shirt collar, pulling his face down close.
“It wasn’t her time!” Chance said vehemently. “She was only fifteen years old, for God’s sake. That wasn’t her time, Bryce.”
It said something for Bryce that he hadn’t tried to fight, that he hadn’t reached for his gun. His eyes were wide as he stared into Chance’s face, but underneath the moment of fear, he completely understood where the young man was coming from. He nodded slowly, and Chance released his grip.
“I’m sorry about that,” Chance said. “Listen, Bryce, I know this ain’t your fault. I’m just—it’s all just been a big shock, you know? First Robin, and then my grandpa? I’m just not doing too good right now.”
Bryce nodded and patted him on the shoulder. “That’s pretty understandable,” he said. “Like I said, I just wanted to make sure you weren’t going to go hunting after those people with Baldizon and his crew. You know, he comes off like a decent sort, but there’s just something about him that makes me… Hell, I don’t know, he just scares me.”
Chance nodded. “If his people are anything like the cartels in Louisville, you don’t want to try to take them on by yourself. They’re called Zetas, and there was an article in the news couple weeks ago that said they’re the biggest criminal organization in the country. They got members everywhere, and a lot of them come from Guatemala.”
Bryce grimaced. “Yeah, I know. FBI was down here a few weeks ago, gave us a lecture about them. Some of these people are just about certain to be members, but the feds say they don’t have enough evidence to indict any of them.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what I’m going to do if I end up with a cartel war on my hands. Call the sheriff, I guess, but I’d imagine they’re going to be plenty busy on this themselves.”
“I know that’s right,” Chance said. “All I know is these are some bad people, Bryce, so you watch your back.” He looked over his shoulder at his grandmother, then turned back to Bryce. “Listen, I gotta take care of her. Don’t worry about me, I’ll stay out of this thing. I just don’t think I’ve got it in me to think this through, right now.”
Bryce turned and walked off the porch, and Chance shut the door. He turned around and walked back to sit down beside his grandmother, but she didn’t move to lean against him this time.
“Grandma? You okay?”
“I heard you,” she said. “And I heard Bryce. Jorge’s father is going after the people that did this.”
“That’s what Bryce said, yeah,” Chance replied.
“It’s a lie. I don’t know who pulled the triggers on the guns that killed them tonight, but they can’t tell me that Jorge and his family weren’t part of it. You and your grandpa were right, and there’s no way his daddy made enough money working for Toler for the way they live. They have a big mansion, that one on Boone Street. Some rich lawyer built it back in the fifties, and it would’ve cost millions to buy that place. Brad Toler wouldn’t have bought it, because it cost too much. There’s no way I can believe that one of his managers could afford it.”
Chance leaned back and stared at her. “Grandma, are you trying to say that you think Baldizon killed them?”
“Not himself,” the old woman said, “but in a way, yes, he did. Whatever they were doing that made that kind of money, that’s the reason his son was killed, and I believe the only reason Robin died was because she was with him at the time. These people don’t care about human life, and they don’t care about innocent bystanders. It’s all about drugs and money, just like your grandpa always said.”
“What did grandpa know about it?” Chance asked.
“He knew about Zetas. You know your grandpa, he was always watching those documentaries about crime, stuff like that. He was telling me just a couple months ago about these Zetas, how they’ve just about taken over the drug business. I don’t know what Jorge did to make them mad, but that’s the reason he’s dead. And the only reason Robin is gone is because she happened to be with him when they decided to kill him.”
“You may be right,” Chance said. “And the police…”
The old woman spun her face around to look him in the eye. “The police are terrified. Even in the cities, where they have a lot of police officers, this cartel is so strong they don’t know how to handle them. They arrest a dozen of them, and five dozen more show up in town. They don’t care about going to prison, they don’t even care if they get killed. Your grandpa says, to them, it’s just part of doing business.”
“Then what could we do, Grandma?”
“Nothing we can do but pray,” Grandma said. “There are seven archangels in heaven. And one of them, Raguel, is the Angel of Justice.”
EIGHT
People started arriving around seven, many of them from the church. Several of the ladies took over the kitchen, making breakfast for Chance and his grandmother, as well as for everyone else that showed up.
Bryce came back about 8 o’clock, just to tell Chance that the medical examiner over at Hinckley had released Robin’s body. Chance would have to make some kind of arrangements for the funeral, but he didn’t even have a clue how to begin. He figured he would wait until all the people were gone, then sit down to discuss it with his grandmother.
“On that other thing,” Bryce said, “what I told you this morning? Chance, some of those FBI guys showed up a little while ago. They’re saying that Baldizon is about to unleash a drug war around here, and I don’t mind telling you that I’m scared to death. I know they call me the police chief here, but everybody knows I’m nothing but a glorified security guard. I prowl around town and watch for the kids who are out making trouble, but we don’t ever deal with any kind of real crime around here.”
Chance shook his head and looked at the officer. “Bryce? Why are you telling me all this?”
Bryce swallowed. “Because I don’t have anybody else to tell. I figured, right now, you can at least understand what I’m talking about. This is some bad stuff coming our way, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.” He shook his head again, then turned and walked out the front door. Chance watched him go, wishing he could think of something to say that might help.
The day passed slowly, but the crowd of people finally left around lunchtime. The ladies from the church had made enough food to last several days, and it was all tucked safely away in the big refrigerator. Grandma wouldn’t have to do any cooking, so she could spend her every waking moment just sitting and thinking about their losses.
When everyone was gone, Chance sat her down at the kitchen table. “Grandma, we have to start making arrangements. Do you have any idea where we begin?”
The old woman nodded slowly. “Me and your grandfather, we bought burial plots back when your daddy and mama died. We laid them to rest in a couple of the spots, but it was cheaper to buy a package with six spots than it was to buy just one or two, so we did. Those are already paid for, so all we need to do is talk to Jarvis down at the funeral home.” She shook her head. “I don’t know how we’re going to afford to pay for two funerals at once. They both deserve a nice casket, but we’ll probably have
to settle for the cheap ones.”
Chance just looked at her. “It’s not that bad,” Chance said. “I’ve got some money in the bank, and I know Robin did. And if we have to, we’ll go to the bank and borrow money. They know I’m good for it, with the horses.”
Grandma looked him in the eye. “But you aren’t here to sell the horses,” she said. “You’ve been gone up to school, and business has been slacking off. We haven’t sold a horse in six months.”
“Yeah, well, I’m back. There’s no way I’m going back to school this year, so I can get the horses selling again. It’s just that we need to do whatever we have to do. I don’t care what it costs, I’ll find a way to pay for it.”
Grandma called Bill Jarvis, the funeral director in Silver Bell, and he expressed his condolences as soon as he got on the phone. Everyone in town had already heard, of course, and Jarvis had been expecting the call. He told them he’d be delighted to see them that afternoon, and Chance said to tell him they would be there shortly.
Silver Bell is a small town, and the drive to the funeral home took only about fifteen minutes. Jarvis was waiting for them when they arrived, and ushered them straight into his office.
“Mrs. Reddick, Mr. Reddick, first let me tell you how sorry I am for your losses. This is a terrible day, a terrible day for Silver Bell, and for everyone around here. The senior Mr. Reddick was one of the pillars of our community, and that poor young lady was one of the most popular girls in town. Everyone loved them both, and the whole community will feel their loss.”
“Thank you,” Chance said. “It’s definitely been a shock.” He cleared his throat. “We need to see about making funeral arrangements. I heard the medical examiner has already released my sister’s body, but I don’t know what’s involved in…”
“We will handle everything,” Jarvis said. “This is why we are here, to help in times such as these.”
“And for my husband?” Grandma asked. “He’s at the hospital, I guess.”
“Yes,” Jarvis said, nodding. “Again, we will handle everything. All we need to discuss today is how you want to handle the funeral. I took the liberty of speaking with the officials in Hinckley, and they seem to think that the young lady could lie in an open coffin.”
Chance’s eyes widened. It had not occurred to him that, under the circumstances, his sister might not be in a condition to be seen. “Is she… I mean, was she…”
“From what I was told,” Jarvis said, “the wounds that took her life were on her body. Her head and face were not injured.”
Chance clamped his eyes shut, and tears began to squeeze out of them. Just the thought that his beautiful little sister might’ve had that beauty ruined forever was almost more than he could bear.
“I prefer the coffin to be open, if it can,” he said haltingly. “Grandpa, too.” He looked at his grandmother for confirmation, and she nodded.
“Of course,” Jarvis said. “Now, you need to select their coffins. We have several on display, if you want to look at them, or I have a catalog.”
They chose to look through the catalog, and Chance’s eyes grew wide again when he saw how expensive some of the coffins could be. The least expensive of them all was still more than three thousand dollars, and he was about to choose it for Robin when Jarvis spoke up again.
“My goodness, I’ve forgotten,” he said. “You do not need to concern yourself with the price. I’ve already been contacted this morning and told that arrangements have been made to cover all of the funeral costs for both of them.”
Chance looked up at the man, and he suddenly felt ice running through his veins. “Arrangements? Who made the arrangements?”
Jarvis smiled sadly. “It was Mr. Baldizon who called,” he said. “He said that your sister and grandfather were merely unintended victims of the violence that took his son, and he felt it was his Christian duty.”
Chance stared at him for a moment, and then he felt his grandmother’s hand on his arm.
“Chance,” she said, “let it be. It’s at least a sign that he’s aware of what he’s done. Just let it be.”
Chance held his gaze on Jarvis for another moment, then looked down at the catalog again. He flipped the pages until he came to the most expensive coffin in the book, one that had gold-plated trim and was priced at more than eighteen thousand dollars.
“Two of these,” he said.
Jarvis didn’t even blink. He made a note on a card and took the catalog back.
“With your permission, we shall retrieve the bodies today, and we can schedule a time for the dual funeral by tomorrow afternoon. That would give us time to be certain that they are both properly prepared.”
Chance and his grandmother agreed, and then he took her by the arm. They walked out of the funeral home together and got into his grandmother’s car, with Chance behind the wheel. He started it up and drove away from the curb.
“Justice,” Grandma said. “Somehow, Chance, there has to be justice.”
“Well, the police aren’t going to do anything,” Chance said. “I’m sure they’ll try, but these little towns don’t have the kind of cops it takes to deal with this cartel. Maybe the best thing is to let Baldizon handle it his way.”
“No, you heard Bryce. The last thing we need is a drug war around here. Chance, if innocent people are hurt, then justice has not been served.” She turned her head to look at him. “Justice always has to be served, Chance.”
“I admit I’d hate to see anybody else get hurt,” Chance said, “but if Baldizon can hunt down the people that did it and blow them away, then I say more power to him.”
Grandma scowled at him, and turned her face away to look out the window. “If only your grandpa were here,” she said. “If only he was here and able to do what needs to be done. He wouldn’t sit back and wait for the whole town to get blown up. Not if he was able.”
“Grandma, that’s not fair. Grandpa wouldn’t be able to do anything, any more than I can.”
The old woman turned and looked at him again. “Did you ever hear the story of Julie Holloway?” she asked.
Chance rolled his eyes but nodded. “Oh, yeah,” he said. “Y’all told us about that many times while we were growing up. She was the little girl that got raped and murdered, and they never caught the person who did it. See? Justice never got served in that case, did it?”
“I guess you’re old enough, now,” Grandma said after a moment. “It’s not like it’s going to make any difference, now.” She turned in her seat to look at him, twisting herself inside her seat belt so that she was partially facing him. “When little Julie went missing, just about every able-bodied man went out to help search, including your grandpa. They covered every square foot of the woods around here, and it was your grandpa and a couple of our neighbors who searched the area where they found her body a couple days later. Everybody thought your grandpa just missed her, but he knew better than that. He said when he saw where her body was laying, he recognized the very spot because it was right where he had stopped to have a cigarette. That was back before he quit smoking, of course, but he had stood right in that spot two days before they found her body, and when they were wrapping her in a blanket to bring her out, he found the cigarette butt he had thrown down and ground under his foot.”
Chance glanced over at her, then turned his eyes back to the road. “But, that would mean he really did miss seeing her,” he said. “How could he miss seeing a dead body?”
“He couldn’t, of course,” Grandma said. “What it meant was that the body wasn’t there when he stopped for that cigarette. And nobody else was supposed to be searching that area, but Bob Mallard went back there two days later and then started yelling that he had found her.”
Chance let it all roll around his mind for a moment, then narrowed his eyes. “Then somebody put the body there, after Grandpa had already passed by. And the only person who might do that would be somebody who knew the area had already been searched, and that no one would be watchin
g.”
Grandma nodded, a faint smile on her face. “Your grandpa figured that out, too,” she said. “And poor little Julie was covered up with leaves and brush when Bob said he found her. Bob said that explained why your grandpa didn’t see her, but that wasn’t good enough. Grandpa’s mind wouldn’t leave it alone, especially after he saw that cigarette butt, until he figured it out. The only way Bob Mallard could have found Julie’s body in that spot, especially if it was covered up to the point that somebody walking through wouldn’t see it, was if Bob Mallard was the one who put her body there.”
“And if Bob put her body there,” Chance said, “then that would mean Bob was the one who killed her. Only the killer would have known where the body was really hidden.”
“That’s how your grandpa saw it, too,” Grandma said. “Nobody but Bob would have been able to find her, because he was the one who put her body there. He sat and thought about that for a couple of days, and then he looked at me and said he had to do something about it.”
Chance made a turn that put him on the highway leading out to the farm. “Grandma? What did he do?”
“Your grandfather,” the old woman said calmly, “went to see Bob Mallard. He told him what he figured out, and then he told him about the cigarette butt. He told me later that Bob started to cry, said that it had all been an accident, but your grandfather had seen that little girl’s body. He saw the way her clothing was torn, and it was pretty obvious what happened to her. He told Bob there was no way it was an accident, and that he was going to take Bob to the sheriff.”
“But—the way I heard it, the man who found her killed himself.”
Grandma nodded. “Bob Mallard was what you might call a pillar of the community. He was a deacon at the local church, and he ran the loan department at the bank. As far as everybody knew, Bob was one of the nicest guys around. When your grandpa said he was taking him to the sheriff, Bob started begging. He said he knew his life was over, but he wanted to go out in a way that wouldn’t destroy his wife and kids. Your grandpa agreed, and then he helped Bob Mallard hang himself.”