Good Boy Gone: Mountain Justice (Buck Valley Mysteries Book 1)

by Joshua Erik Rossi

  Everyone except Johanna and possibly the drifter, died of natural causes until we heard about Jimmy Hamilton.

  Now people suspect each other. Was it a hate crime, they ask. Are we like that? They know they are, but no one wants the proof.

  I was thinking about this on my way over to Steve’s place when I realized he was acting different, too. We all were. Was he scared? Was I?

  I double checked all the locks on the doors last night. I couldn’t sleep. Was it because it was so hot or was it fear that keeps me tossing and turning? The world is changing. Hate crimes are everywhere now. Killers are getting braver.

  As I pulled into Steve’s driveway, I made a mental note to go back up on the mountain and talk to Mrs. Hamilton again. Maybe Ryker was right. Sometimes depressed people never say a word and then, they’re gone.

  Steve met me at the door. He was wearing gray athletic pants and a soft stretch T-shirt that clung to his muscular upper body. The scent of roasted chicken wafted around me. It was on the grill out back.

  “I was afraid you weren’t going to come. I didn’t want to be alone the night before Jimmy’s funeral,” he said.

  “I don’t either,” I admitted. “Besides, after today everyone knows something is going on. You were right.”

  “We’ll go out back. I’ll show you the Garden of Steven.”

  “The Garden of Eden?”

  “Nope. Steven. It’s all mine and it is paradise.” He led me through the house, which was immaculate. His entire existence was polished and pristine. He opened the door to the garden and it was breathtaking. He had an in ground pool surrounded by bright colorful flowers, a small waterfall cascaded into a pond of Lotus blossoms and it was completely secluded, surrounded by a privacy fence.

  “Wow. This is amazing. Did you do all of this?”

  “Yes. It’s my passion.”

  “It’s wonderful.”

  “I come here to shut out the world. I leave my phone and tablet in the kitchen. I leave my problems there, too. In my Garden of Steven, I’m at peace. Sit anywhere you like or go for a swim. The idea is to be relaxed here.”

  “Thanks. Where did you get that elephant statue? It’s gorgeous.”

  “It’s white marble from Thailand.”

  “I can’t believe you brought it to Buck Valley. What a great idea, this garden. I’m inspired. I wish I had a yard behind the diner.”

  “You can use this garden any time you like.”

  I sat down on the chaise lounge. “I might take you up on that.” I drew in a deep breath and exhaled. “This helps.”

  He checked the chicken, turned it over on the grill and it spattered. “Would you like something to drink? I have alcoholic and non-alcoholic beverages.”

  “Iced Tea?”

  “Absolutely. I make my own. I’ll be right back.”

  He went into the house and came out with two tall glasses of tea with crushed ice. “Here’s yours,” he said.

  “Thanks.”

  “I am dreading the funeral tomorrow. I don’t want to go.”

  “No one wants to.”

  “I know, but it will remind me that we’re not solving this case as fast as I’d like to.”

  “Did you get through Jimmy’s messages and texts?”

  “Yeah. Nothing. He had a huge crush on Dale, though.”

  I nodded. “That’s been in existence for a few years. Speaking of Dale, we’re eliminating him and Ian from our list of suspects, right?”

  “Yeah. Neither of them are guilty. What’s your final decision on Jimmy’s parents?”

  “Mrs. Hamilton wasn’t at all skittish when we talked to her,” I said. “She was grief stricken, and I don’t believe Roy would shoot his own son. If we could see the body, we might be able to rule out suicide.”

  “I can’t go into the morgue,” Steve admitted.

  “The body’s at the funeral home by now. I’ll talk to Mr. Wagner, the funeral director. We need to know how that bullet hit him. I have to rule out suicide.”

  “Everyone we talked to said he was happy.”

  “I know, but there are some things people don’t talk about,” I explained. “Hell, I had things I never told anyone. When I came down off that mountain, I was depressed. No one knew.”

  “Really?” He leaned forward, concerned.

  “Sure. Once I left, I knew I could never go back.”

  “I wish I’d known that, but you’ve always been good at keeping things to yourself.”

  “Maybe Jimmy was, too.”

  “Maybe.”

  Chapter 10

  We ate and relaxed in Steve’s garden. It was a nice summer evening. We could hear the kids playing and splashing in a pool in the neighbor’s yard. We couldn’t see anyone and they couldn’t see us. I had to admit, it was a relief both ways. “It’s nice to have some privacy.”

  “It won’t stop the town from talking. In fact, this might make it worse.”

  I sighed.

  “Is it so awful?”

  “What?”

  He sipped at his iced tea and set the glass on the table beside him. “For your name to be connected to mine? They do it anyway.”

  “How so?”

  “We were the only two gays in this town for a long time. Whenever gays are mentioned, it’s ‘oh, did you know Seth and Stevie...blah, blah, blah’.”

  “I thought you hated being called Stevie.”

  “Like they care. Which is my point. You cannot dictate what the people in this town will or will not do. It’s out of our control. Always has been.”

  “I like to think I have some control over my own life.”

  “We don’t. They see us daily in our shops,” Steve explained, “and if they don’t see us, they’ll say, ‘Stevie is probably with Seth’ or the other way around.”

  “I don’t see why they’d think that. Until Jimmy was killed, I never knew where you were when you weren’t in your salon.”

  “Right here in this garden,” he said, “but that’s not what the neighbors think. Because we’re gay, they will automatically assume that you and I are hanging out together, somewhere.”

  “So you’re saying it’s inevitable, us being together.”

  “No. I’m saying that’s what they think.” He paused, visibly gaining courage by straightening his shoulders and looking directly at me. “Are you involved with someone else?”

  This could go two ways. I could lie and say ‘yes’. He’d stop flirting with me, but he’d turn into ‘past history depressing baggage’ that I’d have to carry around. I cleared my throat and spoke, “No. There’s no one else at the moment.”

  “Oh my God. What a coincidence! There was this complicated group thing I was involved in when I was in the city, but I managed to leave that behind. I’m single now, too.”

  Someone was in front of the house honking a car horn and it didn’t stop.

  “I’ll go see what that’s all about,” he said. “Help yourself to some chicken. I think those pieces on the end are done.”

  “Thanks.” I stood up and got a plate. My mouth watered as I lifted the lid of the grill. There was only one thing better than food made on a grill outdoors, meat roasted on a campfire. I love camping in the woods. I put the chicken on my plate and set it on the table. Steve still hadn’t come back. The car horn stopped. I shouldn’t have been worried, but I was. It wouldn’t hurt to go take a look out front and make sure everything was okay. I left the garden, went through the house and I looked out the front window, feeling like a creeper. I expected to see Steve talking to some hot guy he forgot to tell me about. No one was there.

  I opened the door and went through the gate. He’d left it open. He was gone. Had I missed him? Was there a side entrance to the garden? Feeling like a doofus, I checked the backyard. He wasn’t there. It was as if he’d vanished. One of the kids from next door was hanging on the fence watching me. “Did you see where Steve went. You know, the guy that lives here?”

  “My dad says I can’t ta
lk to him cause he’s gay.”

  I sighed and rolled my eyes. “Did you see where he went?”

  “He got in the car.”

  “What car?”

  “A broken red one. He got in and they went that way.”

  “They?”

  The kid shrugged and ran into his backyard.

  I walked out to the street and looked both ways. I didn’t see anything. The sun was setting over the town. Gray clouds streaked across the fading blue sky. Night was approaching and no one was on the street. Just the usual cars parked along the side after everyone had come home from work. Broken sidewalks, pot holes and grass higher in some yards than others. It was an average summer night in Buck Valley, except Steve Lark was missing. He’d gone off without saying anything. His phone was on the table in the backyard, next to his half empty glass of iced tea.

  I’d have looked for the broken red car, but if it turned out to be an ex boyfriend of his, I’d look like more of a doofus for following them. I decided to wait.

  I locked the gate and went back to the yard. The chicken was burning. I hurried to take the rest of it off the grill. I wasn’t sure what to do so I waited for him. Sooner or later, I thought, he’ll come back.

  I ate while the solar powered twinkly lights came on through out the garden. The Garden of Steve was a masterpiece at night. He had an eye for detail. The lanterns he chose lined the walkway, the water from the fountains trickled into the larger pool below. I was tempted to go for a swim. It was inviting, but Steve hadn’t returned.

  I checked my phone. Who disappears like that without saying anything? That’s just rude. His phone was sitting in front of me, but he could borrow someone’s and send a quick text. What would it say? Sorry. Changed my mind. I’m into the group thing. See yourself out.

  Some people say I worry too much. I think too far into everything. High anxiety. Whatever. I’ve never been diagnosed. When you know crazy runs in the family, the last thing you want to find out is if you have it.

  I waited. The mom next door called the kids in. There was a small ruckus of voices protesting bed time and then, it was quiet. Crickets. Cicadas singing. A Mockingbird and a Whippoorwill joined in for the chorus, but the Great Horned Owl made me shiver. Owls, in some cultures, signify death.

  I gave a forced exhale and checked the time on my phone again. Ten o'clock. Was he coming back? Had something happened to him? Why would he get in a car and ride off without saying anything?

  I carried the plate of chicken into his kitchen, covered it with plastic wrap and opened his fridge. He’d prepared potato salad, macaroni salad and he’d sliced fresh garden tomatoes. It was ready and waiting, sitting on the shelves. I stared at the food for a full minute. Steve wasn’t planning on going anywhere. I put his phone on the counter and locked the back door. I turned off the lights, flipped the switch for the porch light and I went outside.

  In the distance, the owl hooted. It came from the dense forest behind the house, this reminder of death. Was there a killer loose in our town? Had he come for Steve?

  Why would Steve go with him? Why did Jimmy let him in his house?

  Am I crazy?

  I got in my truck and drove over every street in town, looking for broken red cars, whatever that meant. I wished I’d asked the neighbor kid more questions.

  Where the hell was Steve?

  Chapter 11

  Another sleepless night. More tossing and turning with only the haunting sound of the owl for company. The hooting echoed, or seemed to echo through the quiet streets of town.

  Up at 3 am. I’d given up on sleep. There were too many ‘maybes’ in my mind. Maybe it was an emergency, something about his parents? He’d rushed off without thinking. Maybe it was an old boyfriend that he was excited to see. I thought about it as I brewed the coffee, re-stocked everything and unlocked the front door to my diner. Maybe he was nervous about having supper with me. As I turned the lock, I glanced over at the front step of Steve’s salon. He should have been there by now with a broom in his hand. It was a ritual. He swept the sidewalk and his step every morning for the past four years. He was never sick and he never stayed home.

  As soon as I opened the door, the people came in. Donna came for her Mocha Latte. Gina and Linda ate breakfast every morning, catching up on the latest gossip. They kept looking through my window and over at Steve’s salon. I knew what was coming when I approached their table. “The usual?” I asked.

  “Where’s Stevie?”

  They looked up at me, waiting.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Wasn’t your truck in his driveway last night?” Linda asked. “Is he sick?”

  “He’s never sick,” Gina replied.

  They looked at me, accusing me without saying a word.

  Silence.

  “Did you two argue?” Gina finally blurted out.

  The chatter around us quieted.

  “No. We did not. I don’t know where he is. I don’t know anything about it. Now, do you want what you guys usually order or do you want something else?”

  “You should hire someone,” Linda advised. “That Ian kid could work here.”

  Why? Because he’s gay? “I work alone.”

  “Things might move faster if you have him take the orders and you could stay in the back.”

  “Linda, do you want your cheese omelet and hash-browns?”

  “Yes.”

  “Gina, pancakes with Maple syrup?”

  “Sure,” she said.

  I left their table and went to the kitchen. Where the hell was he? If he’s messing around somewhere, I’m kicking his ass. I’ll never make it through the day. The entire town of Buck Valley was going to kick mine. I looked up to see Bobby Ryker come into the diner and he sat at the counter. Could this get any worse? I knew better than to think he was there to protect and serve. I growled and went to where he was seated. “Coffee?”

  “You bet. Word is, you lost your date last night.” He grinned.

  “It was not a date.”

  “What was it?”

  “We were grilling some chicken,” I said. “Steve made supper.”

  “So, it was a date.”

  “Christ, Bobby. Can you be any more annoying?” I demanded. I put my hands palms down on the counter to keep from grabbing him by the throat. I never liked him. In fact, on my list of people I liked in town, I’m pretty sure Bobby was last.

  “He’s not in his barbershop.”

  “It’s a salon, and I think everyone with eyes can see that,” I said.

  “What’s the matter? Lover’s quarrel?” He snickered. “Is he butt hurt?” He laughed.

  I sighed again, heavily. “We did not argue…” I stopped mid-sentence because the door opened and I always look up to see who it is and how many people are coming in. It was one man, and he brought radio silence to the entire room. He looked the same except for a fresh cut above his eye. He was six foot, six and a half inches tall, wearing overalls and no shirt. His hands, forearms and his face was dirty, smudged with coal dust. His uncombed, unruly black hair was hidden under a backwards baseball cap. Other than that, he looked like me because it was my older brother, Casey Keegan.

  Six people got up and immediately left the diner. Chief Bobby Ryker whistled and spun around on his stool to face him, crossing his arms over his chest. He wanted to arrest Casey so bad he was drooling. My brother didn’t have anything on him. He came into the diner empty handed. Thank God. No gun. No moonshine and as far as I could tell, no drugs. Those were three things he religiously carried no matter where he was going.

  He walked through the dining area and into the kitchen, expecting me to meet him there which I did. I’d seen him one time in the past six years and he was up to no good. I hadn’t talked to him since I left home.

  “Seth,” he said. He nodded, acknowledging me.

  “What’s up?” My voice was weaker than I wanted it to be, but it was rare for any Keegan to come into town. I was the only one people saw on
a regular basis.

  “Pa wants to talk to you.”

  “What?”

  “Can you hear? I said, Pa sent me for you.”

  “What’s he want?”

  Casey shifted on his feet, shoved his fists in the pockets of his overalls and spit on my floor.

  “This is a kitchen!” I roared, grabbing him by the bib of his ratty worn denims. I pushed him to the wall, but he just grinned at me. Everyone in the dining area turned into statues, frozen, with shocked expressions on their faces.

  “You goin’ to kick my ass?” Casey inquired. He raised an eyebrow. “I’ll give you a minute to make peace with Jesus.”

  I let him go. I didn’t want to get into a brawl with him. “I’ll go see Pa after I close up tonight.” I lied. I wasn’t going up there. He broke too many of my bones the last time.

  “He wants you now.”

  “Casey, look there. Do you see all those hungry people?”

  He walked out there, opened the front door and turned the sign over. It now said, ‘Closed’. He didn’t even have to point to the street. He emptied the place in less than fifteen seconds. The last person out was Bobby Ryker. They gave each other a hard stare.

  “I’m watching you Keegans,” he said, looking at both of us.

  Funny thing about a last name. You can be a Saint and if your older brothers terrorized the town, you’re just like they are. No questions asked. No one cared. My father’s legacy. Once a Keegan, always a Keegan.

  “You owe me at least six hundred dollars.” I squared off with Casey. At least with him, I had a chance of winning.

  He sneered and spit on my floor. Again.

  I closed my fist, pulled back my arm and plowed it into his face. Blood flew all over. Broken nose on the first punch. In seconds I was in mid-air, flying across the diner. I crashed into the wall. Pictures fell. Glass shattered and a hard toe of a boot slammed into my ribs. There was a loud crack and sharp pain spread through my chest.

  Casey crouched down and said in a low whisper, “You get up and come with me or you’re not getting up.”

  “Damn! Why are you all so damn crazy?” I glared at him. “Can’t you be like normal folks? One time. Just one time without the crazy would be nice.”