by Jason Deas
Benny stood still and looked around. A green three-man tent was pitched in the middle of an area filled with pea gravel. Benny searched the pea gravel for footprints and did not find any. He thought it strange.
“Did you look inside?” he asked Vernon.
“Yes, unfortunately.”
“Where are your footprints?”
“We put a sheet of plywood down.”
Benny smiled and pointed at Vernon. “Is somebody looking for a promotion?”
“Hell no. Only position up from mine is Chief.”
“And?”
“Damn. I wouldn’t run against Chuckie. And y’all white folks wouldn’t vote me in, anyhow.”
“You got my vote.”
“Thanks. Now stop dreaming and take a look inside the tent.”
Benny walked toward the tent door and his head popped back.
“I know what that smell is,” he told Vernon.
Benny cupped his hand over his face. He pulled the flap to the side and peered inside. An incredibly large man lay on his back, slashed to pieces. His throat, chest, stomach, and legs suffered small cuts. He was naked. The bottom of the tent had a thin pool of blood, some of which was still not dried. Benny backed out of the tent.
“We got us a first timer,” Benny said.
“What do you mean?”
“Whoever did this is a first time killer. I would bet my life on it.”
“Why?”
“There is uncertainty in the knife slashes. Our killer didn’t know if the ones across his neck would do the job, so they continued and slashed his chest. As he gasped for his last breaths our killer panicked and slashed his stomach and legs. I guarantee you if he hadn’t died then, we would be finding more of him carved up.”
“Why do people do these things?”
“Rage, money, jealousy.” Benny backed away from the tent and tried to shake the smell out of his nostrils. “Too many reasons.”
“I’m no expert,” Vernon said, “but I don’t see rage in those slashes.”
“You’re right. Now tell me why.”
“The cuts aren’t deep enough or long enough.”
“Right again.”
Vernon’s chest puffed out a little and he continued. “I can tell the knife he used was incredibly sharp by the flaps of skin. A dull knife would have torn the skin, but those cuts are smooth.”
“You’re starting to make me feel useless,” Benny joked.
“I guess it’s like anything, the more you see and experience, the better you become.”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Come look at this,” Vernon said, walking over toward the concrete picnic table.
Benny took a few steps before the tabletop came into view. “Well, that’s fresh,” he said. “And interesting. What the hell is it?”
Someone had taken a rock or something of the sort and carved an image into the top of the table. The abstract image seemed in places like it would burst into a realistic figure and then it somehow dove back into abstraction. Just as the viewer’s eyes recovered from one trick of lines, more pulled the eyes to another section that almost revealed itself, and did not. The artist created a dance for the eyes and a curious journey of near discoveries.
“Is this thing moving?” Benny said as he had to look away.
“I felt the same thing. I thought maybe I was just feeling queasy from what I had seen in the tent.”
“Somebody is talented,” Benny said. “We need to start looking at artists around town and see if we can match this style. Not just anybody could do this.”
“If you want to get on that, I’ll find out who the guy in the tent is and maybe we can connect the two. I’ve already asked the camp attendant to give me a printout of all the names, phone numbers, and addresses of people who have been staying here in the last week. I’ll get some of the deputies to start visiting or calling all of them to find out if they saw or heard anything.”
Benny took two steps back, feigning anger. “You sure you need me?”
Vernon tried to hide his pride and smothered a grin. “You taught me well. I do need you.”
“I think I actually need you more than you need me this time around. I need to keep my mind busy.”
“What do you mean?”
“Rachael’s moving on.”
“Shut your mouth! She burned you?”
“Afraid so.” Benny’s eyes began to well up.
Vernon put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Her loss, my friend. You want to go get a beer?”
“Nah. Thanks though. I just want to try to wrap my mind around this alone today. Maybe tomorrow.”
“I understand. Damn! She was a good one, brother.”
“She was. And thanks for not talking bad about her. She deserves better than that.”
“Yes, she does. Hey, if you get to feeling lonely or need to talk, call or just come on over to the house. We got plenty of commotion to take your mind off your problems.”
“The twins doing OK?”
“I’m surprised every day that the house is still standing. The boys are wild. Karma’s a mean bitch.”
Benny laughed. “Let’s touch base later.”
“Promise me one thing.”
“OK.”
“Don’t drink this problem away like you did Jane.”
Benny had been married to a local named Jane for a short time. She had been Chief Neighbors’ high school sweetheart and wife. Jane had hired Benny to find out if Chief Neighbors was cheating on her. After he gave her proof that he was, a romance followed and marriage. Vernon called Benny not long after they tied the knot to let him know that Jane’s heart had floated back to the Chief, and Benny busted them in the Chief’s office. A divorce and a tight friendship were the results of the secret phone call.
“I won’t. I tried it last night and the problem was still here this morning.”
“Is that why my phone rang at three o’clock in the morning?”
Benny fanned out both of his hands and shook his head. “Wasn’t me.”
Chapter 3
Another sun-drenched morning graced the Sleepy Cove Marina. Benny’s houseboat gently swayed as the fishing boats headed out. He was not a morning person and usually rolled out of bed around ten. He peeked at the clock and found it to be a few minutes before six. His brain took off and he tried to fall back to sleep without any success. He could not calm his thoughts. Benny cursed and got out of bed.
Although it was four hours earlier than usual, he followed his morning ritual and headed up to the marina’s office for the morning paper.
“What’s wrong?” Donny yelled when he walked in the door.
“Nothing,” Benny tried.
“Aw damn! Does this have anything to do with Rachael not being on TV last night?”
“Maybe.”
Donny grabbed his face and pulled the cap off his head. He slammed it to the floor and then kicked it across the room. He put his head down on the counter swearing and hollering indecipherable phrases.
“Whoa! She didn’t break up with you. She dumped me,” Benny said.
“I’m so upset. I feel like I’ve been kicked in the stomach. I need to sit down.” Donny stumbled over to one of the couches lining the walls of the office and bait shop.
“Are you kidding me here? Am I still asleep and dreaming?”
“She didn’t just dump you!” Donny screamed. “She dumped this whole town—me included. I don’t think I can ever watch that channel again.” Donny jumped up and ran toward the television set hanging on the wall across the room. As he neared the set, he jumped as if he was an NBA player about to make a fantastic dunk. With one finger outstretched, he flew through the air and caught the power button. As he landed, the television went dark. “Please go,” he told Benny. “I need to be
alone.”
“Um… OK. Call me if you need a hug,” Benny said in jest, picking up the newspaper.
“I do,” Donny said, getting up again and walking toward Benny.
Benny threw his hands up not believing the situation. Donny fell into his arms and trembled as he gave Benny a tremendous bear hug.
“You’ll get over this,” Benny said.
“I won’t,” Donny answered.
“Give it time.”
As Benny left he heard the door lock. When he turned around to see what was going on he saw Donny putting the “Closed” sign in the door window.
Is he for real? Benny thought. He peered at the front page of the paper and the headline read, “Murder. Again.” He tucked the paper under his arm and made his way back to the houseboat with Birdsongs painted on its stem and stern.
With the coffee maker dripping, Benny read the front page story in the Tilley Bee and thought about his old friend Jerry Lee, who at one time wrote for and edited the newspaper. Jerry Lee had been an unusual soul who made up his own curse words, and in honor of him, Benny said aloud to no one, “Peanuts!”
With coffee in hand, Benny sat on the top deck of Birdsongs and listened to the morning. He heard a few boat motors coming and going, birds, waves, and his own breathing. He realized that once again, without Rachael, he was alone. He tried to think good thoughts. At forty-nine, he was still in good health. He had fantastic black hair that still curled if grown past a certain point. His chameleon eyes still stopped people on the street. His fit body and deep voice were now back on the market, and if Benny could have heard the undertones of the city, he would have heard the women of Tilley rejoicing.
Benny knew Vernon would be awake and called him after his second cup of coffee.
“What are you doing up so early?” Vernon asked.
“Couldn’t sleep.”
“You want to get an early start?”
“Might as well,” Benny answered.
“Where’re you gonna start?”
“Oglethorpe place. I hear two of the residents are artists. Maybe they can tell me where to start.”
“I hear the uncle is a crazy old coot.”
“You know I love crazies. Did you find anything out about the vic?”
“We’re working on it. I’ll have something definite by lunch. You want to meet?”
“Yeah. Meet me at the marina at noon and I’ll throw something together. Did Rene say when she was going to reopen?”
“Tomorrow. She doesn’t think anybody would eat there even if she opened today. She was going to take the week off but said she couldn’t afford it. She said the food spoilage alone would cost her a couple thousand dollars. I guess she buys everything fresh. Doesn’t she live in the same marina as you?”
“No. She lives across the lake.”
“Maybe after lunch we can both go over and talk to her.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“See you at noon.”
“If I’m not back, just let yourself in with your key and make yourself at home.”
“You know I will.”
After hanging up the phone, Benny poured himself one more cup of coffee and got ready for the day. On his way to his Jeep, he noticed the sign in Donny’s window was still reading “Closed.” Benny couldn’t help but laugh.
As Benny drove down the Oglethorpe’s long dirt drive, he stopped once again to marvel at the giant metal sculptures. Just as he put the vehicle back in gear an animal bolted across the road in front of him and disappeared in between some bushes on the other side. It all happened so fast, Benny couldn’t decide what kind of animal it was. He knew it was as tall as a horse, but he could have sworn it stood vertically like a kangaroo or a human. And it was fast! Images of the cartoon Roadrunner flew through his mind, and Benny couldn’t help saying aloud, “Beep, beep.” It’s going to be a strange day, he thought.
An older man stood in front of the Oglethorpe house with a worried look on his face. Benny couldn’t tell how old he was as his skin was lobster red and glowing with some sort of lotion Benny imagined to be aloe. The man wore overalls without a shirt underneath and as Benny neared, he noticed the man pull a tube of lotion out of his pocket. He squirted some in his hands and rubbed his shoulders and arms. He even rubbed a handful through his white hair, massaging his scalp. The man noticed Benny’s Jeep and stuffed the tube of lotion back into his pocket.
Before Benny could even get the car in park, the man was at his door.
“Did you find her?” the man asked.
“Who are we talking about?”
“About this tall,” the man said, holding his hand in the air above his head. “Fast as hell. White. Black. Peachy pink.”
Benny got out of the Jeep. “We’re not talking about a person I assume?”
“Nope. We’re talking about Clarice.”
“And Clarice is?”
“Shifty.”
“And?”
“Lost.”
“What kind of animal is Clarice?”
“Ostrich.”
“Thank you. I think I may have seen her,” Benny said remembering the streak that ran across the road in front of him. “I saw her back by your crane sculpture.”
“I knew it,” the man said. “She thinks I like her better and she’s mad because I wouldn’t make her a BLT last night.”
“That would make me mad as well. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Yes. Scream like I’m kicking your ass.”
“What?”
“Clarice don’t like violence. If she thinks I’m beating you up, she’ll come running and knock me over. Then I can apologize and make her a BLT.”
“OK,” Benny said, wondering if he really was still asleep and dreaming. “How do I start?”
“Just act like I’m hitting you and kicking you over and over again.”
“OK.” Benny had been in some weird situations before, but he decided this one was even stranger than the day he met Red. He took a deep breath and put on an Oscar worthy performance of having his ass kicked. “Stop! Ouch! Ow!…”
Thirty seconds later a black and white streak tore across the yard and knocked the man in overalls down. The angry ostrich stood over him and glared down into his eyes.
“Tell her you’re OK,” the man yelled. “And call her by name.”
“I’m OK, Clarice. Let him go. Clarice, I’m OK.”
The ostrich took a step back as the man got off the ground.
“You are so stubborn,” he said to the tall bird. “If you want to eat your friends, then fine, you can have a BLT.” The man nodded his head up and down as if the ostrich was talking and he was listening. “I know, pigs are stupid.” He listened again and nodded. “Yes, they are delicious and I’m sorry. I won’t ever eat a BLT in front of you again without sharing. Will you get back inside the fence now? I have a visitor.”
The man turned and walked toward the back of the house and the ostrich followed. Benny followed as well. At the back of the house, the man opened a gate and the ostrich walked inside. The man shut the gate and turned to Benny.
“Thanks,” he said pulling the tube of aloe out of his pocket again.
“You’re welcome. I’m guessing you’re Karl?”
“You can call me Uncle Karl.”
“Um… OK.”
“Do me a favor,” Uncle Karl said. “Put some of this on my back.”
Before Benny could object, he squirted a handful of aloe into Benny’s hands and turned around. White hairs stood above red skin. Benny took a deep breath and began rubbing.
“Oh yeah,” Uncle Karl moaned. “Right there. Oh. Oh. Yeah.”
When Benny finished, Uncle Karl turned around and flashed him an unusual smile. Benny thought he was about to speak, but he didn’t.
“T
hat’s one hell of a sunburn,” Benny finally said.
“Arc welder did it.”
“What? How?”
“I got drunk last night and decided to weld a few pieces together in my studio. I had my shirt off and forgot that the light from an arc welder is just as bright, or brighter than the sun. Woke up in hell this morning and couldn’t figure out what had happened last night. I finally remembered my welding and it all clicked.”
“Interesting.”
“Who are you anyway?”
“Benny James. I gave Angel a ride home yesterday and she told me you were an artist. I’m also friends with Red.”
“Son of a monkey! Red! Any friend of Red’s is a friend of mine. That kid grows the best tomatoes this side of the Mississippi. Are you the Benny he talks about?”
“That’s me.”
“Are you here to steal my ostrich?”
“No. I want some information about art.”
“Then you came to the right spot.”
Chapter 4
Vernon pored over documents back at department headquarters. Something did not add up, and he was miffed. Although he treasured his friendship with Benny, Vernon dreamed of being his equal. He knew he would most probably never work for the FBI, but he knew his mind was sharp, and his ability to solve crimes was above average. He wanted to unravel this problem without Benny’s help.
As Vernon waited on an identification of the victim, the reports from his deputies kept coming in. It appeared that no one had seen anything. The camp attendant even assured him after double and triple checking, that the site was not rented on the night in question. The camp attendant also ascertained that the gates to the campground closed promptly at ten thirty every night, and there was no possible way to get around the gates without driving across the site where his personal camper was parked.
Vernon decided to give him one more call.
“Hello Officer Kearns. Would you like me to check the registry a fourth time?”
“That won’t be necessary,” Vernon answered. “You were telling me earlier that your camper is parked near the main gate.”
