The Silent Scream of the Straw Man

by Corinne F. Gerwe

  “Then I thought about old Aggie Smith. You know her, Chief. She’s about ninety-years-old and has lived back on Tyler Creek since marrying Ebenezer Smith when she was sixteen. He’s long dead now, but she gets herself to the Tyler Creek Baptist Church every Sunday and knows more about this area than anyone. Tyler Creek winds its way around the base of this ridge like a snake and that’s where some of the landowners kept campsites for fishing. When times got tough, they rented out those camp-houses, even though some weren’t fit to live in. So I went to pay her a call to ask if she remembered any folks livin’ there during the time period we’re interested in.

  “Sure enough, she did. She recalled one family who moved in and stayed through two winters. She remembered because the husband got into an altercation with one of her fellow church members who went calling, as they did back then, to invite him to bring his family to church. She didn’t remember how the church member knew he had a wife and child, probably from the farmer who rented the place to them, but did recall they were seldom seen. The husband was a rude gruff man who sent them away with no word of thanks and a warning not to return.

  “In those days, people didn’t take kindly to their Christian efforts being rejected like that. There was concern expressed for the family and prayers said, and maybe even some talk of trying again, but another season went by and one day they up and moved out, without a fare thee well. She said that was the way of transit folks. They moved with the hard times and, in most cases, took the hard times with them. She said the camp-house is nothing but a dilapidated shamble, but still there.”

  Farley asked, “Jim, did she recall the man’s name or the landowner?”

  “She couldn’t remember his name, but remembered quite clearly the property owner. That’s why I was going to call you. His name’s Temple Dawson and he once owned the eighty acre bottom land that runs along the base of this ridge. The land is spring fed by Tyler Creek on the southeast side where it crosses over the creek and borders my property for a stretch. See here on this map how the creek curves around the back corner slope of my property and moves away from it farther on. That’s why I didn’t think of it even though it’s close as the crow flies. His land had since been sold and resold and cut up into small lots. But if you take a ruler like this,” Sutton placed the ruler on two maps he’d taped together, “you can see there isn’t much distance from where she said the camp-house is located to the backside of my farm where the cornfield ends.”

  “Does Dawson have kin living around here, Jim?”

  “Not that I know of, but I’ve put the word out. I wanted to have that piece of information before I called, but after talking to Miss Aggie, thought I’d better not wait.”

  “You were right, Jim. You’ve done an incredible job. We’re getting closer and this is a great help. Did Miss Aggie know if the child in that family was a boy or a girl?”

  “I asked, Chief, but she did not.”

  “Jim, I think you know where I am heading with this. The man must have taken the child and moved away, perhaps in the dead of night, leaving the poor woman behind. She hadn’t been reported missing and might never have been discovered, but for the killer who brought attention to her grave. She’d been buried and forsaken, Jim, but not forgotten.”

  Jim bowed his head and prayed, “Lord have mercy on us all.”

  Farley shook Sutton’s hand and said goodnight. Words weren’t needed. Sutton would continue his informal investigation with the steadfast persistence of a farmer. Farley would continue his official one with the resolute tenacity of a hunter.

  The hunted one was also preparing, and thinking. They’d discovered her body but it would remain anonymous. The tiny fractured bones were those of a non-person, a person of no consequence. People could do that to other people then; erase their meaning, their existence, their hopes, dreams, and future. To witness the annihilation of a spirit was like watching a slow death. Death could precipitate death, when even hopelessness and despair could no longer be seen in the eyes. What manner of man would allow a child to witness a mother’s persecution, slow destruction, and merciless killing? Then make the child help drag her lifeless body to the post of his only protector as punishment for hiding beneath him?

  They’d moved away, with never a word spoken of the deed, to a life of watching with fear as suspicion grew about the secret they shared. The only answer was to act as if it had never happened, and then later enter a world in which acting was the norm and past histories were fictional creations.

  There was no remorse in the heart of the hunted one. Tomorrow would be like any other. The film company would start to disassemble and the major players would begin a year of promotion followed by a premier, and then other places and other films. But none would be like this film, which had brought it all back. To be near the place kept so vividly alive in nightmares. To be close enough to hear her crying out from the grave and to realize she had not surrendered. Somehow in death, lying beneath the protector, she had felt that nearness and found a voice. It rose through the earth and caught the wind blowing across the ridges to enter sleeping or waking dreams, directing attention to others like her, insisting they be protected, crying out for justice.

  The only ones who understood were those who needed protection. They understood and were grateful. They’d been given life for a life. It would be useless to explain and wrong to confess to those who would never understand. The wicked had been punished and most importantly, stopped. She would be laid to rest now, an infamous corpse, an anonymous grave, but one that would be remembered.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  BY TEN O’CLOCK ON MONDAY morning, Richard Sherwood had gathered those in attendance at the Serena Events Center and was placing them in their positions as though directing another movie. Farley had called him Sunday night to request he assemble those who had been there during auditions when the Gaither incident occurred and told him what he had in mind. At Dev’s suggestion, Farley had decided to narrow the focus of his investigation of the film company to those who had witnessed Willis Gaither’s abusive behavior.

  The stunt crew would be questioned later at the remote parking lot site. Steven had been questioned earlier that morning, at his insistence. He had joined Dev and Farley at the Serena Grill after learning from Kate they were there. The morning crowd had cleared enough to afford some level of privacy, but Frye hadn’t seemed to care. He’d come rushing in with a look of desperation on his face, making a beeline for the booth where Dev and Farley were seated.

  “Chief Farley, Dev, please forgive this intrusion but I had to talk to you away from the others. I cannot apologize enough for withholding what I knew about the audition. I simply didn’t think it had any connection to Willis Gaither’s murder. In all of our discussions, focus had been on the sightings and significance of the scarecrow in relation to recent events.

  “When I met Eleanor, I could only think about her state of mind after the murder of a husband I knew to be abusive. I assumed she had shared that information with Kate. I also assumed her husband had made local enemies and one of them had killed him. I didn’t tell Eleanor I had been at the center that day to spare her embarrassment. But I must admit that I was drawn to her because of it, identifying and empathizing with her low self-esteem. I hoped to erase the painful memory of what had happened by inviting her to the Halloween ball. It was then she told me about the audition and I responded by letting her know I had been there.

  “When I learned about the second murder, I once again assumed the killer must be a local maniac run amuck. My concern for Eleanor blinded me to the possibility of someone in the film company murdering her husband because he brutally disrupted an audition. It simply didn’t enter my head.

  “When Eleanor told me last night you requested she be present at the questioning today to re-enact the experience, I realized my mistake and how stupid I had been. Don’t get me wrong, Chief. I do not believe for one minute that anyone in the film company had anything to do with the murders.
It’s been one of the least eventful filming experiences I’ve been involved with. Except for a minor hitch with Megan at the beginning, everyone’s performed magnificently and I’ve even managed to make it through without incident.

  “In many ways, Eleanor and I are alike, both recovering from the ravages of debilitating shame and self-doubt and yet we seem to find strength in one another. I know you believe her story and now I hope you believe mine. Dev, I would never betray the kindness and support I’ve received in your home. I may have made a mess of my life before treatment and coming here, but I’m trying to correct that.”

  Farley wasn’t so easily convinced and said nothing. Dev looked thoughtful and a bit troubled.

  He said, “I’ll take you at your word, Steve, but I would like to suggest something that might be difficult for you to hear. I feel somewhat responsible for your friendship with Eleanor. After all, Kate and I did bring the two of you together. But your efforts to protect her and her reluctance to share what happened at the audition demonstrate a collusion of silence that hampered this investigation. You’ve also made yourself a suspect by this omission.”

  Steve looked stricken and his posture slackened.

  The serious expression on Dev’s face was softened by the tender compassion in his eyes, which caused Farley’s skepticism to fade. His respect for Dev had grown with their friendship. Serena was a small town with a law enforcement budget that could not afford psychological consultations. The county sheriff had little regard for this type of assistance, but Farley had learned its value during his days in the FBI. Dev had freely assisted him on several cases and Farley had learned there was more to him than professional experience. He had an old world way of seeing things and a spiritual understanding of good and evil that enabled him to look beyond human frailty to the basic nature of a person, which is what he had just done with Steven Frye.

  Farley looked directly at Steve and said, “You haven’t been the only roadblock to the truth, Steve. That kid playing scarecrow cost me more days than I care to think about. Making the audition connection doesn’t mean we have the murderer. If you want to redeem yourself, help us find out who it is. You say you cannot believe the murderer is a member of the company, but I believe it’s possible. You were on the set every day. You might have seen something and not realized what you were looking at.”

  Steve brightened and eagerly said, “Just tell me what to do.”

  “In less than an hour we’ll be at the Events Center. Everyone who had been present that day will be asked to stand where they had during the Gaither incident. I’d like you to focus your attention on the others during this re-enactment instead of focusing on Eleanor. She might not be able to remember much, but you might recall something important. Could you do this?”

  “I’ll try, Chief,” Steve replied with grateful sincerity.

  Farley felt moved to sympathy while thinking that if Frye turned out to be the killer, he’d have to give up his badge, having once again given the benefit of the doubt to a primary suspect in this case.

  When they arrived at the Events Center, Farley was pleased to see that Richard Sherwood had not wasted time. Steven had arrived ahead of them and been directed to his place. It had been arranged that Kate bring Eleanor and stay in the background, while also providing emotional support. Eleanor was standing in her place, appeared nervous, but smiled at them and nodded to indicate she was okay.

  The distance to the stage from where Farley and Dev stood was considerable. The participants gathered on and near the stage were turned away from them. A burst of laughter indicated the person who had their attention was entertaining them, which seemed odd under the circumstances. Sherwood came forward and shook hands. He was ready to proceed and eager to have his company cleared.

  “Everyone is accounted for, Chief, except one, who is uncharacteristically late. I hope we can go ahead. She’ll probably be here any . . . ” Gales of laughter interrupted Sherwood. He turned toward the stage and shouted for quiet.

  “Please excuse them, Chief. Buddy Larson is on stage telling tales and can’t stop when he has an audience. It’s his way of relieving the tension we are all feeling. He keeps everyone laughing during breaks, but now isn’t the time. I apologize.”

  Sherwood introduced Chief Farley to the assembly. Dev moved off to the side to observe reactions. Farley made a mental sketch of the room, and then asked for a hand count of those who had witnessed Willis Gaither’s arrival. Everyone positioned near where Eleanor was standing raised their hands. No one on or near the stage raised a hand, which was understandable because their view would have been blocked by distance and the people nearest Eleanor. He walked toward the stage and asked how many eventually realized something was happening on the other side of the room. Almost everyone raised their hands.

  Farley walked back across the room and asked Dev to enter through the doorway, move toward Eleanor and stand next to her. He asked Sherwood to direct everyone to move two steps forward in the direction they had during the incident. He knew this would be hard for Eleanor to endure and was grateful for her brave stance. Steven had been standing near a side entrance and was not as close as the others, but had a direct view from his position. Farley had seen him give an encouraging nod to Eleanor, and then turn his practiced eye on his colleagues. Dev had a bird’s-eye view of those closest to him and Eleanor. He turned to her and caught her staring at the pine paneled wall by the curved bar. The fleeting puzzled expression on her face disappeared when she turned to him.

  Sherwood had one of his sketch artists do a simplistic but accurate drawing of the scene as each person was questioned one by one. Most described their shock and sympathy, some described feeling embarrassed for the woman. Many said they felt helpless, that it happened too quickly to intervene. Others said it was none of their business and put it out of their minds. The last to be questioned were the group on or near the stage, which included the make-up, hairdressing, and wardrobe department staff. Megan said she hadn’t seen a thing because her costume was being fitted. The production assistant said they were, for the most part, engaged in separate activities from the auditions. Buddy said his eyesight was too bad to see anything, making a joke of it and said he was only there to be fitted for overalls.

  Farley noted that the stage group had been focused more on preparation for their roles, whereas many in the group involving the extras were waiting their turn with nothing to do but react to the situation as it evolved. Those closest to the episode described the strongest reaction to it.

  Sherwood’s efficiency helped bring everything to a conclusion by noon, leaving little time for discussion before Farley had to meet with the stunt crew. He asked Dev and Kate to take Eleanor and Steve back to their home and share their impressions with one another until he could meet with them later. His was fully aware that the one person missing was Joyce Crenshaw. Sherwood seemed to have forgotten about her absence and probably would as an afterthought. Farley would ask him about it later. He had other things to do before heading to the lot.

  After everyone dispersed, he looked around the ballroom-sized room and thought about what he had learned. Not everyone had been sure of their movements or what they had seen. Impressions varied as they often did with eyewitness accounts. Sometimes people remember what they think they’re supposed to remember and some can be influenced by other witnesses. Sherwood, for example, had forgotten about Joyce not being there. If she had arrived late, which she hadn’t, and come through the side entrance unobtrusively, his attention would have been on directing the assembly to their places. He’d been focused on trying to keep things moving on time. Perhaps he’d planned to meet Miss Pen for lunch; he’d been in a hurry to leave. Whatever the reason, he was a perfect reminder of the flawed testimony of eyewitnesses.

  A thought invaded Farley’s analysis. It was something Steven had said. What was it? Ah yes! Frye had wanted to replace Eleanor’s painful memory with a positive one by taking her to the ball. Farley wondered if someone
had the same idea about the assembly; to replace the memory of one or more in attendance with a new one. Was it possible to convince a person or group that you were in a position you had not been on the day of the incident?

  Joyce was a big woman who exuded a strong presence. Yet no one attending this morning had mentioned her absence. A dramatic event draws attention to the center of the drama and away everything else. By not being in attendance, attention was deflected from her, albeit temporarily. On the other hand, by not being there, she couldn’t verify the original position of someone who might have changed positions.

  Farley hoped the latter wasn’t true. He preferred thinking of her as a suspect. She was physically strong and mentally capable. She had picked Zack from the crowd and Eleanor Gaither. She took a personal interest in both of them and would have been outraged by Willis Gaither’s behavior. She’d been keeping an eye on Zack and may have been attracted to him. He had ideas about being in the movies. She could have made promises.

  Farley called the Serena Mountain Lodge to find out if she had checked out. She had not. He asked that her suite be checked. The clerk did as instructed and reported that her clothes were hung in the closet and toiletries spread about the bathroom sink countertop. There was no handbag in the room and her room key was missing.

  Farley drove to the remote parking lot to interview the stunt crew made up of five drivers and two mechanics. They were eager to help. Zack’s murder had come as a shock. Six of them had good things to say about him. The seventh remained silent. Farley took him aside after questioning the others. After pressing him a bit, he talked.

  “I never trusted the guy. We’ve been two men short since the beginning, so his offer of help was welcome. None of us knew these back roads and he knew them all. He was a good driver, too, and knew where to take the cars to get the parts we needed. But I can tell you that he used that time for his own benefit, taking longer than need be, and always having an excuse that couldn’t be checked out. I thought he was sneaky. I wouldn’t have put it past him to hold onto keys to a vehicle overnight.