Bury! The Lead

by Shelley Dawn Siddall

Crystal didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t very well run after Amy and interrogate her. Crystal moved her bike to one side. She could go shopping for an outfit to wear to work tomorrow.

  Work! The thought of it made her start to hyperventilate.

  “Would you like a drink of lemonade? Only fifty cents.”

  Crystal knocked back the drink in practically one gulp and immediately regretted it. This was how they were going to make money…by selling lemonade with what tasted like one teaspoon of sugar for the whole pitcher? She paid the vendor fifty cents and looked at the crowd with fresh eyes. She needed to find someone who was selling pop, or juice or even water for that matter.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a teenage girl waving at her.

  “Hi, I’m Crystal. I saw you calling me over; what’s up?”

  “Hi, I’m Jennifer. I figured you might need this.” The young girl gave Crystal a glass of grape juice. “Everyone knows that Mrs. Watson has the worst lemonade.”

  “Thanks, Jennifer; you’re a lifesaver.”

  “So what are you here for?”

  Crystal cringed internally. She couldn’t really say she came to snoop. “I need to buy some clothes for work,” she said, almost truthfully.

  “Where do you work?”

  “At the Harrogate News; I’m just hired to work in the office.”

  “Cool! I’m taking courses at school so I can be an engineer!”

  Crystal was impressed. She had just drifted through school with no real goal other than to graduate. Then she graduated and just kept drifting. Until now, that is. Now she had a purpose. Maybe this Jennifer knew something about the accident? Crystal truthfully commended the teenager.

  “Wow! That’s impressive. In what field?”

  Jennifer looked both ways, and motioned Crystal to come closer.

  “I want to work in aeronautics; like the people who worked on that robotic arm that went up in space. Do you know it weighs over nine hundred pounds and has joints that can move like an actual arm?”

  “I did not know that. I’m impressed yet again, that you do. How come you’ve got this figured out already? Are your parents engineers?”

  Jennifer suddenly was sad. “You’re not from around here, are you? My parents are just regular people with regular jobs, but they’re not working now. They’re just holed up in the house, depressed beyond belief, because my little sister Lisa died.”

  Crystal started to tear up. “I am so sorry. What can I do to help?”

  “You know what, Crystal, I liked it when you just talked to me like I was a regular person. Everybody has been feeling so sorry for me, that every time they see me, they usually grab me and hug me and say, ‘oh you poor thing’. Maybe this is cruel, but my sister died, not me. I have things I want to do. Things I like to talk about, but everybody just wants to talk about Lisa.”

  Crystal put her juice glass down. “Yeah. I think I understand. When my dad died, everybody felt so sorry for me. To this day, I can’t remember what I wanted to do with my life back then, but I do remember all of the sudden and random hugs. Even though I was only six, I felt like I was getting smothered by all the sadness.”

  “That’s a good way to put it, smothered by sadness.”

  Crystal nodded. “It was as though I was invisible, everyone talking in hushed tones around me; but when a grown-up needed comfort, they would suddenly see me. I became some sort of teddy bear to them, and they would practically hug the stuffing out of me. Fortunately my mom quickly realized I was getting overwhelmed and kept me close to her and asked people not to hug me.”

  Crystal hadn’t thought about that time for ages. She remembered that some people looked at her mother as strange and uncaring, when in fact, she was protecting her girl.

  “My sister was six,” Jennifer said quietly. She filled up Crystal’s juice glass again. “Let’s talk about space!”

  “Sure! I’m far too claustrophobic to be an astronaut, you know? But it would be cool to see the earth from the moon.”

  “It would. I’m not claustrophobic, but when I read about the um, bathroom situation and saw how they eat food, it just grossed me out. It’d be like eating toothpaste every day!”

  Crystal started laughing. “And from what I’ve heard, the food doesn’t even taste as good as toothpaste.”

  This time is was Jennifer that started giggling.

  Several ladies heard Jennifer giggling and stopped sorting through clothing. Determined to comfort the teenager, who in their mind was clearly hysterical, they marched over to Jennifer.

  Just before they arrived, Jennifer grabbed a teddy bear off a nearby table, looked at Crystal; crossed her eyes and started choking the teddy bear. The trio of women began taking turns hugging Jennifer.

  Crystal looked at the teenager, crossed her eyes and waved goodbye.

  She decided to forgo the shopping and rode home. For some reason, she felt lighter than air.

  “I’m going to get a cat,” she said as she unlocked the cabin. “I’m going to get a cat that stands up on it’s hind legs and looks like an owl!”

  She sorted the letters into those with return addresses and those with none. Crystal guessed the letters without a return address had been dropped off discreetly and would be more interesting to read. She started with the letters that had been mailed.

  After about a half an hour of reading, she had a pile of discarded letters that were too ridiculous to answer. She groaned. “Do people not have common sense?”

  Crystal picked up a letter from the top of the discard pile and read it again.

  ‘What to wear out tonight?’ had asked Betty if she should wear her red dress or the blue one with sparkles when she goes out; which one did Betty think looked better? The writer had not included a photograph.

  Crystal wrote on the back of the letter, “No sweetheart; I’d go with the green one with the black stripes. And just think, if you wear it to the club, someone might mistake you as a watermelon! Wouldn’t that be a riot?”

  She got up and stretched. “I should just go down to the hardware store and by a big bucket of common sense and sprinkle it liberally throughout the land!” She danced around her living room sprinkling common sense.

  Crystal caught sight of herself in the mirror. She looked slightly insane.

  “This would look so much better if I had a ribbon and I was swirling it around for my cat.”

  Just as she started to laugh at herself, a worry wiggled it’s way across her brow.

  “What am I going to wear tomorrow?”

  Chapter Four

  “Would this snag? I think it would snag.” Crystal was standing in front of her mirror. She had on the outfit that up until two minutes ago, she had decided was perfect to wear to the newspaper. A white blouse and a long navy skirt. But now she wondered.

  “What if I walk into the office; snag my skirt on the edge of my desk, it rips right along the seam leaving me literally em-bare-assed?” Crystal went to her dresser and pulled out all of her underwear. She sorted her undergarments by color.

  “Now which color matches my skirt the best? In this pile I have white and in this pile I have black. Would I be thought of as a wild woman if they see I wear black underwear when my skirt rips open? But equally wouldn’t my white underwear stand out like a beacon…oh this is impossible.”

  Crystal sat down on her bed. Matt was right; she was spending too much time dithering.

  “Let’s just go through my morning; I’ll get up. Have a piece of toast. Comb my hair. Get dressed in a white shirt and a blue skirt and black underwear, yes just like the wild woman I am; hop on my bike. Well shoot. I can’t ride to work in a long skirt.”

  Crystal opened her pants drawer and sighed with relief. She only had jeans.

  Decision made. White shirt, jeans and sneakers. Done.

  The hand-delivered envelopes were beckoning her. As Crystal carefully opened the letter on the top of the pile; she had an idea that would hopefully add a little zes
t to her column. At the end of the column, she would bestow ‘the bucket of common sense’ award to some worthy recipient.

  She read the letter and shook her head. “Winner winner, chicken dinner!” she exclaimed.

  Dear Betty,

  I really like to dance; except I have these two kids I have to babysit. When my husband comes home from work, he says he’s too tired to take care of them so I can go out dancing. I told him our kids are practically old enough to take care of themselves at night. Betty, what four-year-old and five-year-old wouldn’t fall asleep when they’re tired? And our kids, well, from the day I gave birth to them, they’ve been good sleepers. For Pete’s sake, how difficult would it be for him to pick them up and put them in bed?

  So there’s a big two step contest coming up at the Dew Drop Inn and I already entered. I put my name down as Melody Dancer; isn’t that a fantastic name? Actually I’m thinking of changing my name to that as soon as I win enough money. My partner is the guy who bags groceries at the Quickie Mart; his name is Frank; but I don’t like that name, so I call him Lorenzo; isn’t that exotic? He’s a bit younger than me, but he says he’s a good dancer.

  Here’s my question; do you think my husband is going to notice if I just put the kids in front of the television in the den and shut the door, so when he comes home I can tell him they’re in bed? Or should I not say anything and just slip out the side door when he falls asleep on the couch?

  Yours truly,

  Babysitter Blues.

  Crystal poured herself a glass of white wine and decided that she wouldn’t include Babysitter Blues’ letter in her column. The letter had too many identifying clues that might not only cause the husband embarrassment but if published, it could create trouble in Babysitter Blue’s household. Because of her dad’s death due to domestic violence, Crystal could see the potential for trouble in this case. Crystal tapped her nose with her pencil, then wrote:

  This week’s Bucket Of Common Sense Award goes to ‘Babysitter Blues’. My dear Babysitter Blues; I understand you want to change your name to ****** Dancer. I agree with you; that is indeed a lovely name. It would suit someone who would love to go dancing every night except for the fact that they have these kids they have to babysit.

  Common sense approaching in three, two, one…

  You are their Mother! You gave birth to them. You do not ever babysit your own children; you guide, nurture and care for your children. Why not go to the library (they allow children there as opposed to the club) and get out books on activities for parents and kids? Pour yourself into the process and ask for tips from family and friends on how they create fun for their whole family.

  Otherwise, forfeit your children and go dancing.

  Crystal sipped her wine and looked at what she had written. Nope, a little too harsh so she erased the last line. But she wanted a clincher. She chewed on the end of her pencil. Finally she wrote:

  And here’s a twist; move the furniture out of the way and teach the kids some popular dance moves! I’m willing to bet you’ll laugh yourself silly and start to see what marvellous little people your children are. Remember; you already have one of the loveliest names there is…Mom.

  Sincerely,

  CeeCee.

  Better. Much better.

  Crystal finished her glass of wine; washed the glass and was in bed by eleven. Sometime later, she woke up feeling rested and surprisingly ready to greet the day. She opened one eye and looked at the display on her alarm clock. It read 11:23.

  “Twenty-three minutes? I’ve been asleep for less than half an hour? Oh good gravy.”

  She got up and went over to her bookshelf where a dozen or so murder mysteries were bookmarked.

  “Do I want to continue being on a train, stuck in a snowstorm somewhere in Yugoslavia or shall I continue down the Nile with the kleptomaniac?”

  She opted for the snowstorm and although her cabin was more than adequately heated, Crystal got the shivers as she read. She made herself a hot chocolate, and then pulled the comforter off her bed and bundled up in her favorite chair with her paperback.

  The next time she awoke, it was early morning and she was still in her armchair. In a panic Crystal bolted out of the chair, threw on her clothes and gathered her answered letters and dumped them in her knapsack.

  “I don’t have time to pack a lunch; I’ll just grab something from the café,” Crystal announced to her cabin. “What if they don’t give me a lunchbreak? Maybe I should grab some fruit or crackers or toast? Would it look weird if I brought toast to work?”

  She then looked at her clock.

  “Perhaps arriving to work about three hours early might look a tad eager on my part as well.”

  ***

  Crystal nearly threw her shoulder out of joint pulling on the door to the Harrogate News.

  “You know, hon, it might work better if I unlock the door.”

  Crystal looked longingly at her means of escape, locked to the bike stand and followed the woman inside.

  “I’m Marjorie; you must be Matt’s girlfriend's daughter, Crystal.”

  Crystal cringed at the description. “Hi. Does everyone know I’m, as you put it, Matt’s girlfriend’s daughter?”

  “Well there ain’t no other way to put it darling. Come on in. I’ll get the coffee started.”

  The only desk parallel to the wall had a word processor and pad of paper on it.

  “Must be mine,” she said as she plopped her knapsack down. The word processor looked like the kind she had used at school, so she plugged it in and put in a sheet of paper. Matt had said that she had to type up everything before she gave it to Marjorie, so Crystal got out her letters and started working.

  “That’s pretty industrious of you! I’m usually the early bird, then Scott, then Matt, then Ben.”

  Marjorie had taken off her red beret and matching red poncho and now stood in front of Crystal watching her work.

  Crystal stopped typing and looked up. She was temporarily blinded by the shock of orange hair that had been hiding under the red beret. Marjorie sure liked color!

  “Who are all the other desks for?” Crystal asked.

  “Oh, we have part-timers that cover different events. Nothing’s really going on this week so no one’s here. Plus, after the paper is printed on Tuesday, the driver brings it back to Harrogate, then phones all the ‘stuffers’. They’re the folks that put all the flyers in the newspapers before they’re delivered.

  “Wait. Matt said the photographic plates or whatever are driven up to Patterson Lake, then the paper is printed and all the papers are brought back here. Are these stuffers called in the middle of the night?”

  “Pretty much. Usually around two in the morning. We have a collection of friends that come in; Fay, Marlene, Linda and Graham and they spend a couple of hours putting the flyers in, then delivering papers in bulk to different drop off points. Not my idea of a fun time, but they like it. How do you take your coffee, hon? I think it’s ready.”

  “Oh I don’t need to be waited on!” Crystal said, jumping up and following Marjorie to the kitchenette at the back of the office.

  “Wasn’t going to wait on you; was just asking in case you took cream in your coffee. I was ready to tell you we don’t have a working fridge at this time.”

  Crystal blushed. “No, I just take it black.” There was no way she was going to mention that her mom always put cinnamon in it for her.

  All the mugs on the counter had names. Crystal started to spin out. What if she took someone’s mug, drank out of it and got some communicable disease? Some terminal communicable disease and she died and Matt would be blamed because it was his girlfriend’s daughter who drank out of the mug that belonged to… Crystal looked at the names again. Sarah; it was Sarah’s mug and Sarah was evidently immune to this disease but Crystal wasn’t and so died and Matt was fired because it was bad publicity and he didn’t marry Joanne Schmidt but just went up north to pan for gold and didn’t ever find any.

&n
bsp; “Pick a mug; any mug. Time’s a wasting.”

  Crystal avoided Sarah’s mug and grabbed Fay’s. Fay sounded like a decent, disease-free name.

  “If I was as tall and as pretty as you, I’d sit with my back against the wall too. There must be a frenzy of wolf whistling every time you ride by a construction site! But I’m a wrinkled old prune; nobody’s interested in chasing after me!”

  At the mention of the word nobody; Crystal thought of the poem her mom had recited the previous day. Crystal didn’t want to be a nobody. Perhaps she should ask Marjorie about the hit and run story? She looked over at Marjorie who had her feet up on her desk, drinking her coffee and doing what looked like a crossword puzzle in the paper. Marjorie was frowning.

  Nope, Crystal thought, she’s pretty busy. Crystal replayed what Marjorie said and then started to imagined a pack of wolves surrounding her desk; ready to devour her. She had to get out of there!

  “Where you headed to hon? You just got here.”

  “Just checking to make sure I locked my bike up. I’ll be back.”

  Crystal walked right into a fussy little man; she knew within two seconds of literally bumping into him who he was.

  “I’m Scott Avery the number one reporter on this paper! I don’t know you; who are you and what are you doing here?” he yelled after her.

  Crystal checked the lock on her bike. It was locked. She knew it was locked; she had just needed some air.

  Scott yelled at her when she came back in. “So you’re the new girl! Well new girl, you should know that most of us are here at our desks already working at eight. So hop to it.”

  Crystal had several choice words for Scott but said none of them. She went to her desk and glared at her coffee cup. She slowly raised her eyes and looked at Scott.

  He was a shrimp; plain and simple. And an arrogant shrimp at that, with some weird bouffant hairdo. Was he trying to look taller?

  Crystal started to giggle. That was it! He was trying to look taller. His brunette hair looked like it had been backcombed to stand up like it did. He also must be trying to look older as he had a huge mustache growing over his lip and a pointed beard.