Jed Had to Die

by Tara Sivec

  “Put your hands up and step away from Miss Lambert. NOW!” Leo orders, shouting the last word when Jed stupidly starts to lean in my direction instead of away, like he was told.

  “He has a gun pointed at your head, you might want to listen to him,” I warn Jed with a scratchy voice.

  Jed finally lowers his arm with a sigh, the rage on his face quickly replaced with a sickeningly sweet smile when he turns away from me and addresses Leo, who is still standing at the base of the porch steps with his weapon pointed right at Jed’s face.

  “Good evening, Sheriff Hudson, it’s always a pleasure. We’re just having a little misunderstanding, but it’s all cleared up now. Isn’t that right, Payton?” Jed asks, turning his gross, fake smile at me when he glances back over his shoulder.

  “The only thing cleared up is any tiny inkling I might have had that you AREN’T a complete piece of shit,” I rasp, each word making my throat scream in pain.

  “Payton, go back inside the house,” Leo orders in a low voice, moving up to the bottom step while still aiming his gun at Jed.

  “Screw that! Give me your gun so I can shoot him myself,” I fire back angrily with my hoarse voice, holding my hand out in Leo’s direction without taking my eyes off of Jed. “Better yet, you shoot him in the head, then let me shoot him in the dick. Everyone wins!”

  My throat hurts, and my pride is a tad wounded that I thought I could put this idiot in his place all by myself, but at least now I’m much more inclined to listen to Bettie and I actually want to apologize to Leo. He deserves a whole shit ton of apologies for showing up here like my knight in shining armor, and I’m not ashamed to admit that the few glances I’ve shot in his direction have done amazing things for my ego. The way he keeps looking back and forth between what I’m sure is an angry red mark on my neck and Jed, it isn’t hard to see the barely concealed rage going on within him. The muscles in his arms bulge and ripple while he holds tightly to his gun, forcing himself to remain professional while at the same time, wanting to rip Jed’s limbs from his body and beat him with the bloody stumps.

  Jed wisely lifts both his hands in the air and takes a few steps back and away from both of us when Leo makes it up the steps to stand next to me.

  “Sheriff elections are coming up again soon, aren’t they, Leo? How about you and I head down to Pickerson’s bar and discuss your plans for reelection?” Jed asks Leo with a grin, actually having the nerve to try and blackmail him right in front of me and get him to forget about what happened here tonight.

  As if my knight in shining armor would do something so stupid! Also, I just remembered another reason why Mrs. Pickerson wouldn’t have come to my aid tonight. I’m pretty sure those six wine coolers were stolen from Mr. Pickerson’s bar the night I peed on her lawn. It really is a good thing Leo showed up when he did.

  “That sounds like a fine idea,” Leo replies, lowering his arm and sliding his gun back into his holster.

  “You have GOT to be fucking kidding me!” I shout angrily.

  Well, it’s more of a croak of anger, but still. My feelings are made known when I shoot an angry glare at Leo and let a whole slew of more curse words fly until he wraps his hand around my arm and pulls me across the porch until we’re out of hearing distance from Jed the Jackhole.

  “Let me handle this, Payton. Go inside and check on Emma Jo,” Leo whispers, his warm, minty breath skating across my lips from his close proximity, but his eyes aimed over my shoulder, keeping an eye on Jed.

  “Let you handle this by kissing that piece-of-shit’s ass? Like you’ve been doing for twelve years? Hell no! I don’t give a rat’s ass what kind of strings he pulls for you or what kind of money he slips the sheriff’s department under the table for you to turn a blind-eye on all of his horse shit. He just threatened me and tried to kill me. You’re seriously going to go down to Pickerson’s, toss back a few brewskies, measure your dicks, and call it even?” I fire back. “I can’t believe I was actually going to apologize for not recognizing you!”

  Leo finally takes his eyes off of Jed long enough to glance down at me.

  “Trust me, Payton, this isn’t what it looks like,” he confides softly. The serious look on his face softens when he smiles down at me. “Get in the house, check on Emma Jo, stop picturing me naked, and I’ll let you apologize to me later. I’ll make a list of ways you can show me you really mean it.”

  With those parting words and a wink, Leo steps out from around me. His boots thump against the porch as he walks across it toward Jed, holding his arm out for Jed to lead the way.

  With an angry growl under my breath, I storm into the house and slam the door behind me, securing the deadbolt and making up a bunch of new nicknames for Sheriff Stupid-Face Hudson.

  CHAPTER 8

  Recorded Interview

  June 2, 2016

  Bald Knob, KY Police Department

  Deputy Lloyd: Mrs. Pickerson, can you tell me what you remember about the night of May 31st?

  Justine Pickerson: Well, I was heading out to my car to drive into town and help my husband, Roy, close up the bar. I heard some shouting coming from across the street at the Jackson’s. I try not to pay too much attention to gossip, mind you, but I heard from Starla Godfrey, who heard from Teresa Jefferson, who heard from Andrea Maynard down at the Hungry Bear that Payton Lambert was back in town. I figured her first stop would be to go see her mamma and daddy, but obviously she felt the need to cause trouble for Emma Jo and poor, poor Jed. Is he really gone? I just can’t believe it. He was such a nice man and took such good care of the people of Bald Knob.

  Deputy Lloyd: Why do you think Miss Lambert would cause trouble for Emma Jo and Jed?

  Justine Pickerson: I caught that girl squatting in my yard, doing her business in the wee hours of the morning. No pun intended. She also stole alcohol from our bar.

  Deputy Lloyd: You saw Miss Lambert going to the bathroom in your yard and stealing alcohol on the night of the murder?

  Justine Pickerson: Well, no. It was back when she was seventeen, but that girl has always had bad news written all over her. If there’s trouble in Bald Knob, you can bet Payton Lambert had something to do with it.

  Deputy Lloyd: So, you’re referring to an incident that happened thirteen years ago, when she was in high school?

  Justine Pickerson: Don’t you look at me like that, Deputy Lloyd. A girl freely drops her drawers in front of God and all creation when she’s a teenager, Lord only knows what she’ll do now that she’s an adult.

  Deputy Lloyd: Ma’am, can we please get back to the night of May 31st. You said you were walking to your car and heard shouting. Do you remember what you heard?

  Justine Pickerson: A lot of cursing and bad words, I can tell you that. I mean, I’m not one to eavesdrop, mind you, but our houses are close together and Payton was yelling loudly. I heard her threaten to shoot Jed Jackson. Was he shot? I heard from Andrea Maynard, who heard from Teresa Jefferson who heard from Starla Godfrey that he was shot. Starla lives right next door to Emma Jo and Jed, you know, and I heard she discovered the body so it must be true.

  Deputy Lloyd: Actually, Mrs. Godfrey didn’t discover the body, and no, Jed Jackson wasn’t shot.

  Justine Pickerson: Was he stabbed? I heard from Teresa Jefferson who-

  Deputy Lloyd: He wasn’t stabbed. That’s all I can really tell you about this since it’s an ongoing investigation, and I’d appreciate it if you kept what we’re discussing in this room to yourself until we can finish questioning everyone.

  Justine Pickerson: I told you, I’m not one for gossip, so you have my word that nothing we talk about will leave this room.

  Deputy Lloyd: Thank you for your cooperation. Now, can you remember what Jed Jackson was doing when Miss Lambert was shouting at him? Did you see a weapon in his hand or hear any shouting from him?

  Justine Pickerson: Jed Jackson has never raised his voice at anyone, he was a wonderful and kind man. Whatever he might have said to Payton, I’m sure it
was warranted considering, all the nasty things she said to him. Are you going to arrest her?

  Deputy Lloyd: I can’t disclose any of that information with you, Mrs. Pickerson. We aren’t making any arrests until we finish with the interviews and gather as much information as we can.

  Justine Pickerson: Well, you should arrest her for indecent exposure and theft. Those wine coolers cost us $1.75 a piece.

  Deputy Lloyd: We can’t arrest someone for something they allegedly did thirteen years ago.

  Justine Pickerson: First it’s stealing wine coolers, then it’s selling your body for the marijuana, and next thing you know, you’re murdering someone in cold blood. I’ve seen Cops, I know how fast people spiral out of control. Payton has been living in Chicago since she left town. I heard from Mo Wesley who owns the Gas n Sip who heard from his son Roger who had a friend that visited Chicago once and told them it’s a seedy place full of good-for-nothing criminals. I heard Payton owns a coffee shop called Liquid Crack. You know crack is a fancy word for drugs, right? She probably sells drugs and hangs out with a bunch of rabble-rousers.

  Deputy Lloyd: Mrs. Pickerson, do you remember anything else from the night of May 31st?

  Justine Pickerson: I don’t think so. But I’m having lunch with Starla after this, so I’ll ask her and get back to you.

  CHAPTER 9

  Coffee: Do stupid things faster with more energy.

  —Coffee Mug

  “Bettie, shut off the music.”

  I wince at the sound of my own voice, even though it’s muffled and raspy. The combination of my voice and the song blasting through the room makes my head pound so hard that I want to cry.

  “Bettie, seriously, turn off the damn music!” I complain again, opening my eyes and immediately regretting that decision when bright sunlight hits them and it feels like a million knives are stabbing into my skull. I roll over on the couch in the back room of Liquid Crack with a groan, quickly sitting up when I realize I’m not on the couch at Liquid Crack, I’m on a floor.

  With my hand over my eyes to shield them from the sunlight streaming into the room, I glance around and it all comes back to me. Well, some things come back to me, but most of it is a blur because of the wine hangover sloshing around in my brain and curdling in my stomach. Shoving an empty wine bottle away, I roll over on my hands and knees on the living room floor of Emma Jo’s house, reaching under the coffee table for my phone, A.K.A., the source of the music I had been sleepily arguing with Bettie to turn off.

  I grab it and flop over onto my butt, leaning my back against the couch as I finally cut off the ringtone – “Coffee Song” by Frank Sinatra. Normally, this is one of my favorite songs, hence the reason for it being my ringtone, but right now, every noise hurts and makes me want to puke.

  “ ’Yep,” I speak into the phone, unable to form any other words at the moment.

  “I can’t believe you’ve been in town for more than a day and I have to hear it from Starla Godfrey! You are the worst daughter in the entire world. I bet you wouldn’t care if I died. I could have been lying here in my own bed, dead from a broken heart, and you wouldn’t care,” my mother complains in my ear.

  “Mama, can you do me a favor and not talk too loudly?”

  “DON’T YOU SASS ME, YOUNG LADY!” she shouts, jamming more knives into my aching head.

  “I’m not sassing you, I had a rough night, and I just woke up. I was going to call you today, I swear.”

  She huffs loudly. “I heard you did plenty of swearing last night. It’s all over town that you threatened Jed Jackson right on his own front porch. Honestly, Payton, what has gotten into you? Have you been hanging out with hoodlums in Chicago doing drugs? Is that why you never come home to visit? Thirty hours of labor with you, and you’re still making me suffer.”

  I’ve tried to explain to my mother over the years why I never come back home to visit, and instead buy plane tickets for my parents to come out and see me whenever they can, but she doesn’t listen. She doesn’t understand that I love Chicago and outgrew Bald Knob and everyone being in your business a long time ago. Clearly nothing has changed since I’ve barely been here for twenty-four hours and I’m already the main source of gossip in this town.

  “Jed Jackson isn’t the nice guy everyone thinks he is, Mama. I’ve been telling you that for years, and now I finally have proof,” I inform her.

  “Payton Lambert, I still have to apologize to Justine Pickerson every time I see her in church for that time you robbed her bar and urinated in her yard. Whatever you did, you better fix it before they kick me out of the knitting club.”

  I sigh, closing my eyes and letting my head drop back to the couch cushions.

  “Mama, I’ll come out to the house to see you and Daddy later on today, and I’ll explain everything, okay? Right now, I need to find some coffee before I go on a murderous rampage,” I tell her.

  With a quick “I love you,” I end the call before she can yell at me some more and sit perfectly still while I try to will my stomach to calm down before I have to get up, run to the bathroom and throw up ten gallons of wine.

  “What is happening to me right now? Why does everything hurt? Even my hair hurts.”

  Cracking open one eye, I watch Emma Jo shuffle into the room, holding her hand against her forehead and looking as miserable as I feel.

  “It’s called a hangover. Welcome to Hell.”

  She slowly ambles over to me and gently lowers her body onto the couch, moaning in pain until she gets seated and rests her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands.

  “Did we make pie last night? Why do I remember making pie?” Emma Jo asks.

  Leaning forward, I glance into the kitchen and see a mess of flour all over the counter, dirty dishes piled in the sink, and a broken egg splattered on the tile.

  “I vaguely remember baking something. And it was pink. Wait, no, blue. It was blue. What the hell did we make that was blue?”

  Emma Jo laughs softly, cutting herself off when my cell phone rings in my hand. Glancing down and seeing that it’s my mother again, I quickly hit the button on the side to silence the call, waving Emma Jo off when she gives me a questioning look.

  “I remember now,” Emma Jo says brightly. “After Leo left with Jed, we drank the rest of the wine, and I told you that I was supposed to make Jed a blueberry pie for when he got home from his business trip.”

  I scrunch up my face in concentration until some more memories from last night come fluttering back. I remember stomping back into the house all pissed off about what Leo said and did, hoping Emma Jo was still busy looking for DVDs and had no idea what happened on her front porch so she wouldn’t get upset. Keeping my lips sealed about it would have worked, if I hadn’t forgotten all about the angry red marks on my neck from where Jed tried to choke the life out of me. She came down the hall from the back of the house a few minutes later, her arms full of chick flicks and her face bright with a smile until she stopped in her tracks and dropped all of them to the floor when she saw my neck. I had no choice but to tell her what had happened and instead of breaking down in a puddle of tears, Emma Jo lifted her head high, walked into the kitchen, and grabbed every bottle of wine that was left. We drank, we bitched about Jed, argued about Leo’s decision to go to the bar with him, and then we came up with a brilliant idea when we polished off the last of the wine.

  “Did we really make that douchebag husband of yours a poisoned blueberry pie?” I ask, even though I already know the answer to that since I’m still staring into the kitchen and can see an empty white bottle of Lysol Toilet Bowl Cleaner tipped onto its side next to the stove.

  My cell phone rings again and I cut it off once more when I see my mother’s name on the display, rolling my eyes when I tell Emma Jo who it is and why she’s calling.

  “Anyway, yes, yes we did make a poisoned blueberry pie,” Emma Jo confirms when my phone beeps with an incoming voice message from my mother. “It was actually a great idea since the p
ie was blue and Lysol Toilet Bowl Cleaner is also blue. Sadly, we didn’t think that plan through very much, considering Jed isn’t supposed to come within a hundred yards of me and we’d have no way of feeding him the pie.”

  I nod with a sigh. “Maybe once our hangovers pass, we’ll be able to come up with a new plan.”

  Emma Jo’s home phone starts ringing from the side table, and I hold up my hand to Emma Jo when she starts to reach for it.

  “I guarantee you it’s my mother. You don’t need to listen to her scream about what a horrible child I am because I won’t answer my phone. I’ll get it,” I lament, pushing up from the floor and moving over to the table to answer the call.

  “Mama, I told you, I’ll stop by and talk to you later.”

  “Emma Jo, there’s something in your back yard,” a woman on the other end of the line whispers, sounding nothing like my mother.

  “This isn’t Emma Jo. Can I tell her who’s calling?” I ask nicely, remembering my manners so word doesn’t get back to my mother that I’m a horrible phone conversationalist and someone kicks her out of her Sunday afternoon Bridge club for it.

  “Payton Lambert, is that you? I heard you were back in town. Bo Jangles has been fit to be tied ever since you yelled at him last night, and now he won’t stop barking at something in Emma Jo’s yard. I think he’s traumatized and he thinks it’s you. Are you outside in the back?”

  I try not to sigh too loudly when I realize it’s Mrs. Godfrey on the other end of the line, Emma Jo’s neighbor and the owner of dog who pissed on my leg.

  “Hello, Mrs. Godfrey, and yes, this is Payton. And your dog almost attacked me and then peed on my leg,” I tell her in the nicest voice possible and without any swearing.

  I should get a medal.

  “Bo Jangles wouldn’t attack anyone! I’m sure he only lifted his leg on you because you frightened my poor baby. He’s been outside all morning sitting at the fence and barking over at Emma Jo’s yard. My eyesight isn’t what it used to be, but I can see something out there in the grass,” she informs me.