Shattered Dreams

by Frank Hayes

  “Ain’t had much of a routine for the last ten years, Sheriff. Pretty much take it as it comes these days. You know, when I look back now, it seems like I was always in a hurry. Now I wonder what I was hurrying to.”

  “My grandfather said something like that not too long ago.” Virgil’s eyes took in the little house as he got closer, noting how the shutters on either side of the windows that looked out from the front of the house onto the driveway and the front yard looked freshly painted. The windows themselves looked brand-new.

  “Nice little spot you got here, Mr. Jessup.”

  “Yep. Everett’s doing. The whole place from top to bottom. The old place stood for over a hundred years but Everett said it wasn’t worth putting new money into it, so he just had it leveled and had this new place built. It’s a modular. They did the whole thing start to finish in less than one week. C’mon inside, Sheriff. Got a fresh pot on the stove.”

  Virgil followed the old man inside. He was even more surprised when he sat down at the kitchen table and got a chance to look around. Everything, appliances, cabinets, even the floors he had walked on to get to the kitchen and those in the kitchen itself looked brand-new. “Got some doughnuts if you’d like.” Mr. Jessup placed a plate of doughnuts in the center of the table. “They’re still warm. Gracie over at the Pit Stop brought them over about an hour ago. When I got your call, I told her you were coming and she brought them over.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Jessup. Didn’t mean to have you go to all this trouble.” Mr. Jessup held up his hand.

  “Nice to have the company. Now that Everett’s gone, I’ll have plenty of time to be alone. Might as well get used to the idea. He was a good boy, kept me from getting lonely.” He waved his hand again in a sweeping gesture. “Did all this for me. Said Pop, you earned this. Wouldn’t take no for an answer. Funny, it was almost like he knew something was going to happen. Didn’t want me living in the old shack. Funny.” He bent his head slightly. Then Virgil saw him brush his hand across his brow as if he was swatting a fly. Virgil took a sip from his cup then reached across, taking one of the doughnuts from the plate. He took a bite, sat back in his chair, then took another sip from his cup. Mr. Jessup sat up a little straighter in his chair and took a drink of his coffee.

  “So, Sheriff, how can I help you?”

  “Well, I was hoping you could tell me about Everett, his friends, his job, anything that might help me understand why he ended up like he did.”

  “Don’t quite understand, Sheriff. Accidents happen. Guess maybe Everett got a little careless.”

  Virgil took a breath.

  “Well, Mr. Jessup. You see, that’s one of the reasons I’m here. There is a pretty strong likelihood that this wasn’t an accident.” He waited for the words to sink in a few seconds before continuing. “So, if that’s the case, anything you could tell me would be really helpful as the investigation goes forward.”

  The old man looked about the room, almost like he was looking for something. “Investigation . . . investigation.” After he made the comment he paused. “So you think maybe somebody hurt Everett on purpose.” He said it as a statement of fact rather than as a question. Then he looked at Virgil. “Why would anybody do that, Sheriff?”

  “Well, that’s what we’re hoping to find out, Mr. Jessup.”

  For the next twenty minutes Virgil heard the life story of Everett Jessup, how he had worked at the sand and gravel company with his partner, Michael Stark, for the last five years, how everybody liked him and he didn’t have an enemy in the world. Virgil chose to not point out that wasn’t a hundred percent true. Everett, he knew, had at least one enemy. Finally, Mr. Jessup was showing signs that he wasn’t just talked out but physically tired.

  Virgil got up from the table, took his and Mr. Jessup’s empty coffee cups and set them in the sink.

  “Thank you, Sheriff. You know, I remember your father. Didn’t know him real well but I remember he had a reputation for playing it straight down the line. ’Course, back in that day that was a line many people regretted crossing. Not everybody was happy about that. But he was known as an honest man. Didn’t have his hand out waiting for a payoff or dipping into the till. Every time I read the newspaper these days or see the news on the TV, somebody in Congress or some local politician is being looked at for double dealing. No matter how much they have, it’s never enough.” He got to his feet with some difficulty.

  Virgil reached out to steady him. Together they started for the door.

  “Have you been here long, Mr. Jessup?” They had reached the small entry hall by the front door.

  “All my life and then some.” He pointed to the wall in the hallway leading to the door. It was covered with family history. Virgil saw cowhands in full regalia looking back at him from days long past. “That’s me in the buckboard, alongside of my mother. We were bringing supplies out to where my father was running fence with a couple of hands and my older brothers. Ran over two thousand head on this range back then. This here was my grandmother. She was mostly Ute. My other grandmother was half-Apache. They hated each other. You got a little Indian in you, right?”

  “More than a little,” Virgil answered.

  “Well, I always say the soup with the most ingredients has the best flavor. Never did understand how people got to hating one another because of race. Way I figure, we all come from the same pot of stew. Oh, that there is Everett.” Mr. Jessup pointed to a photograph obviously taken much more recently than all the others. Virgil leaned in to get a closer look. “That was taken just before my wife passed, about four years ago.” The man in the photo, all in white, towered over the woman standing next to him.

  “Everett must have got his height from your side of the family,” Virgil said.

  “Well, my wife had a couple of pretty tall brothers. But Everett, yeah, he just sprung up like a weed. He was still growing when he was in the Army. He was the tallest of the three boys. ’Course, the youngest never got to full growth. He got hit by the haybine when he was eleven. Clint, well, he landed bad off a nasty bronc, so Everett’s all I got now.” He averted his eyes for an instant. Then he turned to look at Virgil. “By the way, Sheriff, do you know when I can get him?”

  “I’ll check when I get back to Hayward.” They had stepped outside. “Guess you have to make some arrangements.”

  “No . . . that’s all done. His spot is waiting for him.”

  Mr. Jessup stepped off the path that led to the front door then motioned to Virgil to follow him. They walked around the side of the house to the back. There were a couple of barns and a corral not too far distant. One of the barns looked in fairly good shape but the other looked like it wouldn’t make it through the next windstorm. But then Virgil had seen old, forgotten outbuildings like these hang in there long after the people who owned them. Mr. Jessup walked to the sturdier of the two barns and opened the door. The sunlight flooded in while an old barn cat missing one ear ran out. Dust motes swirled in the air, while a cow somewhere in the depths of the structure bawled. Mr. Jessup walked a few feet into the alleyway that ran down the middle, then stopped. Virgil could see something covered by a canvas tarp sitting on a couple of sawhorses. Mr. Jessup picked up the edge that was hanging over, throwing it back on itself, exposing what was underneath to view.

  “I made it for myself, like I did for my wife, but now it will be for Everett.” Virgil looked down on the frame of the box that would hold Everett’s body. “Hope it’s long enough.” Mr. Jessup said.

  “You did a nice job.” Virgil didn’t know what else to say. Mr. Jessup pulled the covering back over then led Virgil back outside. He didn’t say anything but the horse that had been grazing in the pasture had come over to the fence gate that led into the corral, which stood to the right of the barn. He called to Mr. Jessup like he had to Virgil.

  “Not time yet, Ranger,” Mr. Jessup said. “He’s getting anxious for his supper.” Again he motioned to Virgil to follow him as he led him down the opposite side of t
he barn, past the other barn that was struggling to stay vertical. When they got clear of both, tucked away on a little knoll that rose up in back was a small fenced-in area maybe a quarter acre in size. He led Virgil through a small gate that squeaked for lack of oil in the dry climate. Virgil realized immediately that they were in a family cemetery.

  “Been putting family in here for about a hundred and seventy-five years. Looks like I’ll be the last one, now that Everett’s gone. Didn’t think it would all end with me.”

  They walked a little further into the cemetery. Virgil noted the fresh paint on the metal fence that enclosed it. Every marker stood upright, every memorial on each was vivid and readable. The old man stopped in front of one headstone. It read: Mamie Jessup. Underneath were the dates of her life, and beneath that there was one word, BELOVED. Alongside, Virgil saw a freshly dug hole.

  “That’s for Everett,” Mr. Jessup said. “I’ll be on the other side of Mamie. You know I always had a dream that Everett would come back to the land. Oh, I know he decided to go to college, become an accountant. Always was smart as a whip, but I figured that maybe someday . . .” A minute passed in silence. A crow landed on the fence surrounding the little graveyard, gave a raucous caw, then flew away. Mr. Jessup looked at it. “Guess it’s time to let that dream go, bury it here with Everett.” He looked once more down at the empty hole in the ground. Then they turned and headed back down to the house.

  Virgil looked in his rearview mirror as he pulled away from the house. Mr. Jessup was standing by the pasture fence. Ranger had walked over to him. He was nuzzling at his sleeve. Virgil had the feeling that he had come to find out about Everett Jessup Junior but was taking away a lot more than that. He mused over the last words of Mr. Jessup when Virgil asked him if there was anything he could do for him.

  “Nope.” He looked back in the direction of the graveyard. “After I’ve taken care of Everett, I’ve got to build another box. Make some arrangements for myself. Guess I ain’t done living yet.”

  Chapter 10

  When Jimmy came into the office he was surprised to see Rosie still there locked in conversation with Dif.

  “Hey, guys. What’s going on?”

  “Actually, we were talking about that Christmas party Virgil’s having.”

  “Yeah, Virginia’s getting into that big time,” Jimmy said.

  “Should be fun but we got a little problem. Rosie and me were just now talking about it.”

  “What’s that, Dif?”

  “Well, if everyone’s at the party, who the hell is going to mind the store?”

  “I don’t get your drift. How do you mean?”

  “Well, the town and county of Hayward ain’t about to shut down just ’cause we are all having a good time over at Virgil’s place.” The door to the office had opened again. The gust of wind that came with it caught their attention. Simon had walked in on the tail end of Dif’s comment.

  “Don’t mean to butt in but I might have a thought about that, if I understand correctly what you were talking about.” Three heads turned toward Simon, who was still standing in the doorway.

  “Well, spit it out, son,” Dif said.

  “Major Travis . . . the state police. I think after the way the attempted bank robbery went down, for a little payback I bet he’d be more than willing to cover the town and the area for a few hours.”

  “You know, Simon, I’m beginning to think I misjudged you. I wasn’t sure whether or not you had enough sense to pour sand out of a shoe but that’s a great idea.”

  “You know, Dif, I’m beginning to feel different about you too. When I first heard some of your stories, I figured you were just another old windbag living in the past. But now I realize you’re not that old.” A hush fell over the room. Then a spontaneous roar filled the room. By the time Virgil came in almost half an hour later, a transformation had occurred. Simon had definitely become a member of the club.

  Simon and Jimmy left on patrol shortly after Virgil came in, spurred on by Virgil’s revelation that he had spotted a lot of lawbreakers roaming the streets of Hayward with little evidence of any members of law enforcement on the scene.

  “Everything all right, Virgil?” Rosie made the inquiry as Virgil slumped down into his chair. Virgil took off his hat and tossed it onto his desk before answering. She thought he looked tired. “What is it, Virgil?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Guess I’m just thinking about how life sometimes tosses us a curve. We go along thinking it’s a straight line. Like Mr. Jessup down there in Roscoe Flats. All alone now at the near end. Wife gone, now his son. Tough way to end up . . . all alone.

  “Virgil, you are going to the dark side. That’s not you. Look, you’ve got a daughter now. People who care. We all go through rough patches, but life is always a surprise waiting around the corner. There may be one for Mr. Jessup. Just when you think there is no more and you are ready to settle into that rut, something jumps up, smacks you in the face, to let you know you are not in control.” Virgil looked across the desk at Rosie, who was smiling from ear to ear.

  “You know, Rosie. I should pay you for the therapy. But what gets me is, here you are spouting this life philosophy and hell, your life has been going in a straight line forever.”

  “That’s right, Virgil. Like I just said, that’s when it hits. Just about the time you’ve settled into that rut. Dave and I, we finish one another’s sentences. We’re all set. Empty nesters, bills mostly paid off. Nice house, mortgage almost done, kids gone. Looking from the outside, the straight line . . . the rut. No more surprises, you think, then wham.”

  Virgil sat up in his chair.

  “What are you saying, Rosie?”

  “I’m saying, Virgil, just what I told you. Life is waiting to happen, just around the corner. It can be good or bad. You never know but it’s there.”

  “You had any of those surprises lately? I don’t think so,” Virgil said, mockingly leaning back in his angled chair.

  “Just one, Virgil,” Rosie shot back quickly. “I’m pregnant, Virgil. Dave and I are going to have a baby. I’m a grandmother and I’m going to have a baby. How’s that for a curve?”

  Virgil caught hold of the desk to keep from going over as he came upright. Rosie swore Virgil to absolute secrecy, telling him that he and Dave were the only ones who knew about her pregnancy. She hadn’t even told her son and daughter.

  When Dif came back from the holding cells, Rosie was washing out the coffeepot while humming the same song she had been humming in the morning, before Virgil left to go down to Cielo and Roscoe Flats. Virgil had wondered why she had been singing that morning. Now he knew that Rosie had put a positive spin on this life surprise, but then knowing her as long as he had, he would have expected no less. He was still thinking about her news along with what she had said while on his way out of town. It was almost full on dark. He glanced at the clock on the dashboard. It wasn’t even five thirty. He decided to take a chance on an unscheduled stop, turned off Main Street and backtracked to the hospital.

  Virgil caught up with Ark in the hall leading from his office to the morgue.

  “I thought maybe by chance I would get you.”

  “Trying to get caught up on a lot of overdue work so I can have a little more time at home next week with the kids.”

  “Guess Christmas can get a little crazy when you have little kids.” Virgil was thinking of Rosie when he made the comment.

  “You have no idea, Virgil. You will have to try it sometime. But we are looking forward to your party and a night away from the house. Toys will be all over the place. It’s like walking through a minefield. It will be a nice change, stepping over some partygoers who didn’t know when to stop. Hell, we might even join them. We can sleep in the barn if it gets that good.”

  “You will be more than welcome. Jack will be happy for the company. On another note, Mr. Jessup was wondering when he would be able to get Everett?”

  “I guess that all depends on when Everett wants to
show up.”

  “Not quite sure I get what you’re saying, Ark.”

  “Well, I called you earlier but you were out of town.”

  “Never got the message,” Virgil said.

  “Well, Virgil, to answer your question, that poor soul lying on the table in the room at the end of the hall isn’t Everett Jessup. I’d say it’s somebody in their late teens to early twenties. And I’m not a hundred percent sure, but I remember Billy Three Hats contacting me a while back about a couple of youngsters he was looking for who had gone AWOL from their homes. Do believe drugs . . . meth was involved. Well, I think that boy in there . . .” Ark gestured toward the room at the end of the hallway.

  “I think that boy’s last home might have been on the reservation.”

  A surprise, waiting around the corner, Virgil thought, recalling Rosie’s words.

  Chapter 11

  By the time Virgil left Art Kincaid at the hospital the dark had settled in for real. Virgil’s head was spinning a little with the new information he had learned. He was beginning to get that feeling that he’d been down this road before. For some reason, that phrase Kyle Harrison used that night he set up Virgil to see Ruby for the last time was stuck in his brain: “Things are not always what they seem.” He actually said it out loud, as if by doing so there would be some kind of clarity. He drove another mile or two in anticipation but there was no epiphany. He had a deep-down feeling that as far as the mystery of Everett Jessup was concerned, there was a lot more that he didn’t know than what he did. The burnt-out trailer along with its unknown occupant might be only a hint of what was ahead. Maybe that mantra that kept playing in his head like a phonograph needle stuck in the same groove was worth listening to.

  The brightly lit Christmas tree that stood on his front porch could be seen on a moonless night like this a mile off. It pleased him to see it. It was a beacon to the one place on earth he held sacred. On this particular night, alone on a dark country road when he saw it, the day’s events finally dropped away. Inevitably, it brought to mind his conversation with Rosie, then to thoughts of Virginia and how his life had changed in the blink of an eye. A year ago he didn’t know he had a daughter. He was living day to day, which he now realized had been going on for much longer than he cared to think about. But now, like a fresh breeze, Virginia had come into his life. He would never go back to what was, he knew that. Rosie had only verified what he always knew, touched the tip of the iceberg. There’s a surprise around every corner just waiting. For Rosie it was a new baby, for him it was Virginia. He couldn’t think about Virginia without thinking about Rusty, her mother. Virgil didn’t spend a lot of time on what-ifs, but in this case it was inevitable. For one thing, he knew as he turned into the driveway, if Rusty had been around this would not have been the first Christmas tree on the front porch.