by Jason Deas
Miles.
Ray Clint Boyd cried. He cried like a baby. “I loved you,” he said to the gravestone. “I could have made more of myself, I know.”
He placed a dead bird on Myra’s grave and said out loud, in a voice filled with emotion, “I’m coming for you Miles, god dammit.” With the words still in the air, R.C. turned, walked to the Gold Wing, and headed back to Tilley.
Chapter 50
Benny and Vernon walked into Renée’s for lunch. Jerry Lee and Larry from the music store were sitting at a table just inside the door’s entrance. There was a mass of food on the table. Larry looked directly at Benny and then back to the fork that was about to enter his mouth, without recognizing Benny. He had on a shirt that read, “I’m as baked as fried chicken.” A teriyaki chicken wing distracted Jerry Lee.
“The music man and the paper man,” Benny said, stopping in front of their table.
Larry popped his head up like a spooked turtle and Jerry Lee said, “God bless America!”
Vernon laughed and said, “Damn, can’t a black man come in here without scaring folks?”
“That was a joke, wasn’t it?” Larry asked sputtering, not sure if it was or not.
“Of course man,” Vernon winked. “How’s it going Jerry Lee? Find out anything new today?”
“Just what you guys released of the lab results. Doesn’t really seem like enough to write two paragraphs worth without a whole bunch of filler and re-tell of the story. And everybody knows the story. Can I ask you guys a few questions?”
“No,” Benny responded.
“And don’t be eavesdropping on us either,” Vernon added.
Benny and Vernon sat down at a table as far away from the two as possible. Their conversation was light and personal, not case related, as they ordered, waited for their food, and waited for Jerry Lee and Larry to leave. Benny got Vernon up to speed on the situations with Rachael and Red. Vernon commented on how boring his life was compared to Benny’s. Their food arrived almost simultaneous to the time Jerry Lee and Larry departed. As they left, Jerry Lee promised Benny a call later in the day. Benny did not promise to answer.
Larry and Jerry Lee left the café and the lunch hour wound down into its waning moments. Benny and Vernon once again, with Renée dressing the sinful desserts in the kitchen, had the place to themselves. Vernon smiled.
“What?” Benny asked. “You have something,” he said pointing his finger Vernon’s way and beginning a smile of his own. “I know that look.”
“I think I do,” Vernon responded. “The last time we were here talking about the case, you asked me if Ryan had a computer.”
“Yeah. You said you didn’t see one in the apartment.”
“Well, I started looking into some of his financial records and found he had been paying for a high speed Internet connection. And the connection was not at his and Farrah’s apartment.”
“Oh no,” Benny said, wheels turning. “Oh shit!” He gulped as he knew what Vernon was about to say.
“Yep, the house on Little Pond Road. Crime scene number one.”
“Oh Jesus,” Benny pushed away what was left of his food.
“That’s not all.”
“Something else big?” Benny questioned.
“I’ll say. Farrah gave me the boss’s number and I got him to round up the crew that was working on the house before the investigation shut it down. I had them meet me down in the unfinished basement. It’s still pretty dark down there and I thought the atmosphere might intimidate the boys a bit. It did. I started acting like I knew all kinds of stuff I didn’t know and they started sweating. Even the ones who didn’t know a thing were wiping their brows. The Mexicans who couldn’t understand a word I was saying were shitting bricks thinking I was the INS or something.”
Benny leaned forward and listened in silence as Vernon warmed to his report.
“They looked like they were ready to run so I rested my hand on the gun by my hip and I gave them all one of my cop looks. They didn’t move a muscle. When I brought up the Internet connection, this one skinny washed-out roofer lost it and spilled his guts. He said Ryan used chat rooms to meet girls. He said he also had some sort of weird club.”
Vernon stopped speaking as their dessert and coffee arrived. Benny sipped his coffee and waited patiently for Vernon to continue.
“He said Ryan had found some girls and guys within a minimal driving distance. They would rendezvous at the house after work hours. That accounts for the inflatable mattress we found in the master bedroom closet.
He went on to say Ryan had recently met this one chick he was wild about. He said Ryan had bragged a time or two about his conquests but was mostly secretive about it. He supposedly talked constantly about this new girl he hadn’t met yet. The only other thing I got out of him was her screen name.”
“What was it?” Benny asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.
“Little red hen.”
“Little red hen?”
“Yep.”
“God damned birds.”
Chapter 51
Chief Neighbors moped around his house, feeling his ineptitude. The phone rang and he answered hesitantly. It was his and Benny’s ex-wife Jane.
“Hi, Chuckie,” she began. “I saw Benny on the news last night,” she continued casually. “When’s this going to stop?”
“I’m sure Benny will solve it any day now.”
“But…” Jane croaked, “Benny said on the show you didn’t recover any evidence?”
“C’mon Jane,” he said. “Didn’t you have enough time to get to know him better than that?”
“You’re right. You’re right. I’m sure he has something up his sleeve.”
“He does,” Chuckie stated.
“What is it?”
“I don’t know. I just know him.”
“You feeling pretty low?” Jane asked, concerned.
“Yeah.”
“Ah, c’mon Chuckie. Solving crimes just isn’t your thing. Being Sheriff and Chief doesn’t mean you have to be the best at everything in the whole system. If that were the case, you would have to be the best typist, the best driver in high-speed chases, and make the best coffee. You type with two fingers, you drive like an old man, and your coffee tastes like shit. But, Chuckie, you’re the glue that holds it all together. You’re a people person and even though you oftentimes give people plenty of reasons to hate you, they still love you.”
“You think?” he said, seeing a light out of his downtrodden tunnel.
“Yeah. And you’re making the right decision by giving Benny and Vernon ten more days before you call in the feds. I hate to say anything good about him, because he really pissed me off on the phone the other day, but he is better than anyone you could call in there.”
“He is that,” Chief Neighbors said.
Chapter 52
Peter sat at his desk with the paper work Benny had filled out for the paternity test. He wondered where to begin. In a covert manner, Peter needed to get an inside track into what became of the found son of Jack Baker. Benny had written his cell phone number on the documents but Peter didn’t want to take the chance of talking to Benny while he was working.
Peter wanted the exchange to be a casual one in which he might pick up a hint or two about Benny’s client through relaxed conversation. He thought he would ask where the kid worked even though he knew as a professional, Benny probably would not reveal this information. He decided he would lie to Benny and tell him the lab was running behind schedule and the results would be available in the next couple of working days. Being a Friday, this strategy would buy him a few days to conduct his investigation. Peter decided to try the home phone he found listed in the phone book.
The phone in the house with the red picket fence rang. Red, now accustomed and no longer frightened by its sound, answered. Peter did not understand the greeting and asked for Benny, not using his last name for the sake of his laid back tone. “Bendy trying to jail up bad man,” Re
d stated.
“Excuse me?” Peter asked.
“Bad man hurt bad kill people. Bendy hide and seek him.”
“OK…” Peter said, trying to get his mental feet under him. Peter looked at the name Benny had written on the documents to make certain one final time that he was reading it correctly. “Do you know where I can find Red Jasper?”
Red thought the voice on the other end of the phone was looking for his father and he said, “He’s dead.”
“What!” Peter asked. “He’s dead? When did this happen?”
“When Red seventeen.”
“Where is Red now?” Peter asked, attempting to understand the strange conversation he embarked upon.
“Here.”
“Can I talk to him?”
“You do.”
“All right,” Peter said getting frustrated. “Red is there?”
“Here Red.”
“Can you please get him for me?” Peter pleaded.
“You get,” Red replied.
“How the hell am I supposed to get him when I’m not there and you are?” Peter’s frustration turned to anger.
“You get.”
Fed up and not wanting to continue the Abbott and Costello routine, he slammed the phone to its holder.
Peter, having the address, decided to drive over and attempt to find the underlying cause of the bizarre situation. He had a vacuum cleaner in his trunk he used for such occasions. He planned to use his door-to-door salesman routine. On one such enactment, he made his pitch and showed a demonstration to a woman who, to his surprise, wanted to buy one. Thinking fast, Peter promised a delivery the following day and never returned. In his other false sales pitches, Peter never even had the opportunity to plug the vacuum into the wall.
Spotting the mailbox displaying the numbers he sought, Peter wondered why the fence was red. Puzzled, he thought of the person he spoke with on the phone. Peter, still thinking about the strange voice, knocked on the door with his vacuum in hand.
Peter thought the young man who answered the door looked like a real life version of Shaggy from Scooby-Doo. Red stared at Peter and his vacuum without saying a word. Peter waited for a greeting that never came and said, “Hello, my name is Lou Stewartson. I’m with the Handy-Vac Corporation and it would be my pleasure to demonstrate for you our most popular selling vacuum.”
Red remained silent, as he had never seen a vacuum cleaner.
Boldly wanting to gain entrance into the home Peter spotted a plug, pointed towards it and in the same motion walked past Red and into the house. A potted plant sat on the coffee table and Peter grabbed a handful of dirt and tossed it on the floor. He plugged in the vacuum, gave Red a cheap smile, and sucked up the dirt.
When he turned off the vacuum, Red clapped with enthusiasm and said, “You little machine eat dirt!”
“Yes, yes,” Peter answered, thankful the boy had a pulse.
“Bendy need dirt eater machine. How many monies?”
“One hundred and nineteen dollars,” Peter said with another gaudy smile.
“Oh,” Red said deflated. “Red having thirty dollars.”
“You’re Red?”
“Red here.”
“Well Red,” Peter said pulling his camera out of his pocket. “Handy-Vac is having a special promotion to give some of our very special customers a free vacuum cleaner.”
“Free!”
“Yes Red, free. All I need for you to do is let me take a few pictures of you with the vacuum and you just might win it!”
Red took the vacuum in hand and Peter snapped away with his digital camera. Peter then turned the dial on the camera allowing it to take video and said, “All right, one last thing here. What do you think about the vacuum cleaner?”
“Eat dirt fast like broom not can do.”
“And can you please tell me your name?”
“Red. Red Jasper.”
Feeling once again like a snake, Peter slithered out the door and back towards the office of Bobby Baker.
Chapter 53
Birds sang to the evening. Benny and Rachael perched on the boat’s top watching the light’s last energetic flash of the day. Crickets joined in the birdsongs. The water bowed to the shore and the silence of old friends waltzed through a breeze.
A redneck screamed heehaw to the world and it all ended abruptly.
“I visited Danny Hill’s mother today,” Benny leaned forward and looked at her.
“Oh,” Rachael stretched and wiggled her toes.
“She gave me some of his recordings and a couple of notebooks. Do you want to go down below, get a couple of beers and pour through this stuff?”
“Oh wow! Yeah,” she said, using Benny’s arm to vault upwards.
Rachael still found the fact she was on a boat hard to believe. Benny navigated around the kitchen’s island and opened the oversized fridge. Rachael looked at the fridge, studying its size, and then at the door leading outside. Benny handed her a bottle with a homemade label that read, “Ein-Stein.”
“Compliments of Ned,” Benny said.
Rachael had yet to meet Ned and in jest asked, “Is he a beer scientist?”
“No,” Benny chuckled. “Just a mad one.”
“Did he concoct a potion to get that fridge through the door?”
“No. That’s why I have the skylight,” he looked up.
“You’re something else, Benny James.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Benny sat on the couch with the stereo remote. “Come, sit babe. Let’s see what these songs have to offer.”
After hearing half a song, Benny and Rachael both held a similar bipolar opinion of Danny’s music. The instrumentation was brilliant; his voice and lyrics were atrocious. They listened to both cassettes with hopes of finding a clue. It was painful work. When the second tape clunked, signaling its end, a deep sigh filled the room. Neither tape revealed anything pertinent. Benny unloaded the cassette from the deck and as he slid it back into its case, his eyes gushed. “Wham! Bam!”
“What is it batman?”
“Remember the screen name the person used who Ryan was chatting with on the Internet?” Benny asked twitching.
“Yeah. Little Red Hen,” Rachael retorted, with anticipation.
“Danny decorated this tape jacket, and at the bottom it says, ‘Made for Little Red Hen Records’.”
“What?” Rachael looked puzzled.
“Look,” Benny handed her the casing. “They both knew him in some way.”
“He preyed on them,” Rachael gasped.
“He was basically a vulture.”
Chapter 54
As R.C. drove home from Pascagoula, he thought about his future, near and far. He didn’t look as he turned onto roads at a whim. He figured he would find his way back when he was ready. R.C. ached, feeling the prison in his soul. Those walls were cold and made his soul dry.
He thought of Myra Robinson.
He thought of Miles.
He thought of Sly. He wanted to go fishing in Montana with Sly and work with him in the diner. Hard, honest work felt good to his soul. R.C. was homesick for the trailer with no electricity. He longed to gaze at the stars and to hear the bug chatter and other strange noises of the night. Even living in the shadow of the prison would not bring him down. It would be an arm around his shoulder, a friendly embrace. R.C. had the ability to forgive chance. He did not possess the ability to forgive Miles.
R.C. decided the time was near for the showdown. He grew weary of swinging the bat through the air. His anger began to perk.
The last time R.C. looked down at the speedometer it had passed a hundred. His teeth gritted like flint about to spark fire. He trembled with the vibrations of the bike and with his anger.
Chapter 55
Benny borrowed Donny’s speedboat. He needed a wind in the hair jaunt around the lake. As he steered the boat across the water, gently breaking its surface, he thought of his houseboat and its current name, the Jane Says. He decided it was time to change th
e name. Benny thought Casually Late would be a good name for a boat, although personally he was always on time. As he pondered additional names he thought of racehorses. His favorite racehorse name of all time was Captain Steve. Playing off this thought he settled on the fact that his racehorse, if he ever owned one would be named Lucky Steve. Benny laughed as the wind tickled his ears.
He felt trickles of sweat bead on his forehead and the wind pushed some of the beads into his hair and others down between his eyes. He was under the gun once again and the stress felt good. His heart was beating wildly. He had more to do than one ordinary man could accomplish or mentally cope with, without cracking.
Benny was not an ordinary man when it came to this business. He knew he needed to take the endeavors in front of him in stride and it would all fall into place. One step at a time he thought. A wise friend once told him to “chip away” when dealing with large problems or tasks and he decided, as he saw a skier take a nasty fall, to do just that.
He pulled the boat’s throttle back and settled the boat into his favorite cove, tossing the anchor into the mirrored water, shattering its stillness. He packed two beers in a cooler and popped one of them into his favorite coozy. It was blue with a picture of Mount Rushmore on the front. He swiftly drank the first beer and as he sipped the second in deep thought he snapped out of his thinking as he saw a man rowing a boat towards a small island, the closest one to the shore.
