Good Boy Gone
Mountain Justice
Joshua Erik Rossi
Copyright © 2020 Joshua Erik Rossi
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
ISBN-13: 9781234567890
ISBN-10: 1477123456
Cover design by: Joshua Erik Rossi
Library of Congress Control Number: 2018675309
Printed in the United States of America
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Good Boy Gone
Buck Valley Mysteries
Joshua Erik Rossi
Chapter 1
“We have to do something!”
“I can’t do anything right now. I’m busy.” The diner was crowded because of the breakfast rush. Dishes were clanking in the sink behind me.
“Jimmy’s dead.”
“I know. I heard.”
“We have to do something, Seth. What if the killer is in this town?” Steve followed me behind the counter.
“You’re not allowed back here and you don’t know where the killer is. He could be anywhere.”
“The next town is two hours away. Who drives two hours just to kill someone?”
“How would I know?” I stopped working for a moment. Sweat was running down my neck. My shirt was damp. The rush was over and people were leaving. Maybe they had enough to eat or maybe they didn’t want to see the unstable scene Steve was creating. He’s emotional, dramatic, and he’s upset. It’s understandable. Jimmy was in high school. Graduation is next week, but he won’t be there. “Do the police have any leads?”
“Who? Ryker? Are you serious? How far do you think he’s going to look into a gay kid’s death? If we don’t investigate this, no one will. I’m telling you, it’s a hate crime.”
I drew in a breath and exhaled slowly. “I thought things were getting better around here.”
“I thought so, too, but apparently not. Who would do this to him? Everybody liked Jimmy. He was a good kid. What if we’re next?”
I didn’t want to think about that. “Where did they find him?”
“In his living room. His parents were at work. They came home and found him on the floor. Somebody shot him, point-blank range. He didn’t have a chance. There was no sign of forced entry.”
“If they got into the house, it was someone he knew.”
“Or a hook-up.”
“Maybe.”
“His phone’s missing.”
“So, what is Ryker doing about it?”
“He told Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton he would investigate, but you and I both know what will happen. I bet Ryker went back to the station talking about how Jimmy got what he deserved.”
Again, I sighed. I ran my hand back through my hair. The whole thing made me nervous, or was that fear? “I don’t know how to solve a murder.”
“We’ll look for clues. The first one is his phone. Where did it go? What’s on it? Was it a hook-up or an actual date?”
“This is so crazy. I don’t think he was dating anyone.”
“Seth, who would drive to Jimmy’s house and shoot him? This wasn’t a drug deal. Jimmy never touched drugs. It was an execution because he was gay, pure, and simple.”
“All right fine. Come over tonight after you close up your salon. We’ll talk.” I didn’t think we’d find anything, but I didn’t want Steve coming into my diner every day getting my customers riled up. In a small town like Buck Valley, it didn’t take much.
Chapter 2
The afternoon was slow, and it gave me time to think. It didn’t make any sense. Jimmy Hamilton never caused trouble for anyone. If the news reporters asked his neighbors, they’d hear the typical, ‘he was such a good boy’. He was a quiet kid, shy, and a little overweight. He struggled with acne and the usual teenage issues, but as far as I knew, no one hated him. Cliche or not, he was a good kid.
I didn’t want to admit it, but Steve was right. The only thing about Jimmy that someone could dislike, was the fact that he was gay.
Buck Valley’s not a progressive town, but they have made some progress. When I was in high school, no one talked about being gay. Now the kids had LGBTQ+ clubs, there were support groups and even a place for them to hang out.
I couldn’t think of anything Jimmy could have done to provoke anyone. He wasn’t that kind of kid.
He’d been in the diner the week before. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He was with Ian and Dale, and they had lunch. It was like any other day.
I spent the rest of the afternoon trying to make sense of his death, trying to think of a reason someone would get angry enough to kill him. I desperately wanted a different reason other than the one Steve was giving me. I didn’t want it to be a hate crime.
I was angry by the time we closed our shops. Angry because someone killed Jimmy and he was a great guy, and angrier still because he may have been targeted for being gay. Steve came out of the back entrance of his salon and walked into my kitchen. I didn’t see him coming and when I heard him, I was startled.
“Sorry,” he said.
“This whole thing is making me nervous. I’m furious. Seventeen years isn’t long enough for shit. What about his poor parents? How do you love and take care of someone for seventeen years only to lose them?”
“I don’t know, Seth. It’s sad.”
Steve Lark and I dated briefly in high school. We went out two or three times. He’s not a bad looking guy, but we didn’t find the attraction we thought we were supposed to have. Or maybe it was there and we were too afraid to act on it. Either way, I worked a lot and he went to school to learn how to cut hair. We didn’t have time to go out. We lost touch. I walked over and closed the door behind him, locking it. “We’ll need a list of suspects.”
“Yeah. I brought a notebook.”
“Come to my office.” We walked through the diner. It was clean and the lights were out. The front door was locked. Everything was stocked and ready for the next day. I went into my office and sat down behind the desk. “I still can’t think of why anyone would kill him.”
Steve shrugged and tossed his blond hair over his shoulder. He had great hair. The women in town couldn’t stop talking about it. They prayed for hair like his. He looked like a surfer from California who lived on the beach. “I can’t either. Let’s start with the obvious, a list of anti-gays.”
“Bobby Ryker,” I muttered. Damn shame that the Police Chief was number one on our list, but that’s how it was. “He has a gun. He could get away with it and no one would suspect him.”
“True, but is he that crazy?”
“You heard the story about the drifter.”
“Okay, you have a point. I’ll put him on the list. How about Pastor Arnold?”
“From the church
? That’s cold.”
“Maybe, but he is number two. You have to admit it. He got really angry when they banned conversion therapy.”
He paused and then wrote their names down. “Am I naive? I never thought we’d be doing anything like this.”
“How could anyone think this would happen? There’s never been a murder in this town.”
“The drifter?
“Technically, no. He was killed on the other side of the bridge. That’s not Buck Valley.”
“True,” Steve agreed. “What about Mike from Lee’s Auto? He threatened me once.”
“When? You never told me.”
“It was a long time ago, right after I came back from the cosmetology school in the city.”
“What did he say?”
“Not much. He was on the sidewalk, and I walked past him. He called me a fag, and told me to stay away from him or else.”
“Or else what?”
“I don’t know. That’s all he said.”
“Write his name down.” I sat back in the chair. “It’s hard to believe Jimmy’s never going to come in the diner again. He sure loved his cheese fries.” A lump grew in my throat and my eyes watered. “Seventeen years old. It’s a damn shame.”
“Yeah.”
“How did we make it this far?”
“I don’t know,” Steve said softly. “We didn’t win any popularity contests, but we’re tolerated.”
“I wonder what it would be like to have total acceptance?”
“My family accepts me,” he said.
“That’s nice,” I muttered.
“Should I write their names down?”
“Whose names?”
“Liz and Edgar.”
“My parents?”
“They threw you out.”
“My parents aren’t murderers, Steve.” I gave him a stern look. “What’s the matter with you?”
“They’re anti-gay. They should be on the list until we can prove they have alibis. Your dad has guns, a lot of guns and he’s a…”
“Don’t you say it,” I warned.
“Redneck sum-bitch.” Steve grinned. His green eyes lit up and he started laughing.
“My parents live on the ridge. They’re not rednecks. They’re mountain folk.”
“They hate gays.”
“They stay on the mountain, and they come into town once a month, at best.”
“Are you allowed to visit them?” He blinked, looking at me and he waited for an answer.
“How is this about me all of a sudden?”
“It’s not. It’s about the anti-gays in or near this town. We’re talking about people who have so much hate they’d just as soon shoot a gay as look at one.”
“Fine. Write them down, but they didn’t kill anyone. They wouldn’t draw that kind of attention to themselves.”
“Why not? Is your pappy still making’ that moonshine? You know that’s against the law, right?”
“Shut up. It’s not like you came from Foxdale, Mister Trailer Trash. Those are some roots you’ll never get rid of.”
“How-dare-you.”
I grinned. “You started it.”
He slumped in the chair. “We’re not getting anywhere.”
“We are,” I insisted. “Write down all of Jimmy’s friends. We’ll talk to them, too. What about the house?”
“What about it?”
“We should pay a visit to Jimmy’s parents and check out the place, see if we notice anything.”
“What are we going to say?”
“We’ll take some food over. We’ll tell them how sorry we are this happened. It’s not like we didn’t know him. We watched him grow up. He came into both of our shops on a regular basis.”
“True. I just can’t believe this.”
“Unfortunately, I can. It happens everywhere. We’ve been lucky until now, that’s all. I’ve got some pot roast and potatoes leftover from today’s lunch special. I’ll get it all together.”
He followed me from the office, carrying the notebook. He got real quiet, and he wasn’t saying anything, but he was watching me. “What are you thinking about?”
“This changes everything. Every time someone comes into the salon, I’m thinking, are they the killer or do they know who did it?”
“I don’t think the killer is coming in to have you cut his hair, no offense. Your clients are mostly women, anyway.”
“We can’t rule them out. Some of the women in this town could get mad enough to kill. I know. I hear what they talk about.”
“I think if they’d go after anyone, it would be someone who cheated on them. But, you’re right. We have to assume anyone could be the killer until evidence proves otherwise.” I put the pot roast and potatoes in containers and stacked them up. “Let’s take my truck in case any of these leak. I know you don’t want it to spill in your car.”
“You got that right,” he said. His brand new turquoise mini- Cooper convertible was his baby.
I handed him the containers, and we went outside, locking the back door to the diner. We got into my truck, and I started the engine. I thought of the time we went to our class picnic at Swan Lake together, and I grinned.
“What?”
“Nothing. Just a memory. Swan Lake, remember?”
He turned his face away, but I saw the wrinkles he got near the corners of his eyes when he smiled. “I never did get those grass stains out of my white jeans.”
I chuckled and felt a pain in my chest. Our smiles faded at the same time. “My life turned out okay so far,” I said, “but I can’t imagine having everything taken away at seventeen years old.”
“I can’t either,” he said. His voice was a soft whisper. “This sucks.”
“Yeah, it does.”
Chapter 3
The cab of the truck filled with the enticing smell of the pot roast as we drove along the back roads to the Hamilton’s place. Steve had a point. Unless Jimmy told someone exactly where he lived, a stranger would have a hard time finding it. Like Pa’s cabin up on the ridge, it can’t be found with a GPS. Only the people in town know where the Hamilton’s live. It’s that way with a lot of folks around here. The drive took forty-five minutes and it was at the foothills of the mountains.
Driving along on this road, I can see Chestnut Ridge. My old home. There’s a familiar pain in my chest, but I ignore it. The mountains are beautiful and they stretch from one end of the horizon to the other. No one knows for certain how many families are tucked away up there.
People here are private, especially the mountain folk. They don’t want to be bothered. Pa’s bath-tub gin and shine gave him good reason to stay hidden.
I didn’t want anything to do with Pa’s moonshine. I didn’t like the way it tasted, and I didn’t like the way Pa acted after he drank it. It made him stupid and violent. He got angry, fast. When I was young, I accepted it. The moonshine, the arguments, and fights, that was my life. If Pa got mad and hit one of us, well, we deserved it. I truly believed that.
I didn’t know there was anything wrong with my life until I spent a night at Steve’s house. His parents didn’t drink in front of us. They ate supper together every evening. Steve’s house, even though it was a trailer, was clean and calm. He got along with his parents, and they were interested in what he was doing at school.
In twelve years, I can’t remember my pa asking me a single thing about school or anything that concerned my life. He thought I was stupid. I guess that’s why he didn’t bother to ask. If he wanted me to do something and I didn’t do it, he’d haul off and punch me in the face. He has a hell of a right hook. I learned to stay out of his reach.
I got a job at the Oak Street Diner during my last year in high school. Pa was expecting me to drive his moonshine for him regularly. I’d already done it a few times, but I was nervous the whole way. I knew it was illegal. I didn’t want to get arrested, and I didn’t want to go to jail. I had to get away from Pa and his shine business as soon as I could. After g
raduation, I worked more hours at the diner. That caused an argument with Ma, who threw me out, and an even bigger fight with Pa. He broke my nose and my right arm. Old Tom, the man who owned the Diner, took pity on me and he let me stay in the back room. I healed up from that fight, and I never went home. When Old Tom passed on, he didn’t have any family so he gave the diner to me.
“Are you okay?” Steve asked, glancing at me.
“Yeah.” I turned onto the narrow dirt road that led to the Hamilton’s house.
“What if they don’t want visitors?”
“We’ll leave the food on the porch and go.” I stopped the truck in the driveway and shut off the ignition. The curtain in the kitchen window moved. They knew we’d arrived.
The Hamilton’s place was a small wooden farmhouse that only had two rooms and a wood stove when it was built. As the years went by, the family added extra rooms and a bathroom. There was nothing unusual about it. It was painted white with blue shutters. According to mountain legend, the blue represented water and folks believe spirits can’t pass through water. A lot of houses around here had the same faded blue shutters, but it wasn’t a ghost that killed Jimmy Hamilton.
I walked up onto the porch and knocked on the screen door. The thin wood shook from the tapping of my knuckles. Steve stood beside me holding the containers from the diner.
The door opened a crack. “What can I do for you, Seth?” Mrs. Hamilton asked.
“We brought you some pot roast,” Steve said.
She opened the door, and we went into the kitchen. It’s crazy how death brings everything to a halt. The dishes weren’t washed. The table was cluttered with used dinner plates and piles of old mail no one looked at. Poor Mrs. Hamilton looked like she was about to fall over.
“I’m sorry for…” I couldn’t get the rest out. It got stuck in my throat when she looked at me and tears seeped from the corners of her eyes.
She nodded her head, accepting the grief, hers, and ours, over and over. “Roy’s not here. He can’t seem to sit still. The living room...he…” She sighed. “Well, you can’t relax in there. The old man stays out and about. He tries to keep busy. I would too, but I haven’t got anywhere to go.”
Good Boy Gone: Mountain Justice (Buck Valley Mysteries Book 1) Page 1