The Night Killer df-8

by Beverly Connor

  Deputy Conrad chuckled. “Don’t take it personally. It’s just the way people think here.” He sighed. “Daddy thinks he knows everybody in the county-knows what they’re like. He knows his generation, but he don’t know young people or people that’s moved into the county. None of them older folks do. Brother Sam-he’s the preacher over at Golgotha Baptist-he’s dead set against getting a cell phone tower in the county, and he keeps his congregation all riled up about it, so we got no cell service. Lots of them deacons from the churches got theirselves elected to the county board, and they do their earnest best to tell the rest of us what to do. Lucky for us, a lot of the Baptists, Primitive Baptists, and the Pentecostals don’t agree among themselves, so the county board don’t get much done but arguing.” He laughed again. “If the county’s ever going to get any businesses moving in, we’re gonna have to get ourselves a cell tower, for starters, and do something about these roads. Can’t nobody have a decent car around here.”

  “They are hard to drive on in the rain,” said Diane, remembering her trip down the road earlier. She appreciated that when Deputy Conrad talked, he kept his eyes on the road.

  “One of the cell phone companies offered Roy Barre a lot of money to put a tower up on one of his mountains.”

  “Was he considering it?” asked Diane.

  “I think he was. He talked like he was. Roy wasn’t as against some of the modern stuff like the rest of the older folks around here. I swear, if they weren’t addicted to WrestleMania and the cowboy channels, they’d be fighting over whether we should even have television. Not that they could stop people, but they could sure fuss about it.”

  “Would any of them be angry enough at Roy Barre over the cell phone tower to kill him and his wife?” asked Diane.

  “You mean, thinking they figured they were killing the devil’s disciple and doing a good deed? I don’t think so,” he said. “They aren’t crazy or anything-just trying to keep the sins of Atlanta out of our little mountains. Most people here like to fuss, but they don’t carry it beyond that. Our families have known each other forever around here-at least the old families. My great-granddaddy and Roy’s granddaddy were good friends. Same with a lot of families. We’ve all been friends and enemies and friends again a long time, but we’ve never killed nobody over anything.”

  Diane looked out the window at the dark silhouettes of trees as the Jeep slid and swerved its way down the muddy mountain road. She felt as if she were riding in a stagecoach. She wondered about a place that had insulated itself the way this one had-families who knew one another for generations, with boundaries to the outside world maintained by mountains, family ties, and inhospitable dirt roads. Of course, there were changes over the years. People weren’t forced to stay. They did travel, join the military, work outside the area, have television, but Diane wondered how they would change if they merely paved their roads. They would certainly have more visitors in the mountains if the roads outside the towns could carry vehicles other than four-wheel-drives. And nothing brought change like visitors. She wondered to what degree some of the citizens hated cell phones. Hated the idea of their kids sending and receiving text messages all day long, having the phones ring in church, in school.

  Diane had heard that some people wanted to make Renfrew, the county seat of Rendell County, into a tourist town, along the lines of Helen, Georgia, a picturesque alpine village in the North Georgia mountains. She had no doubt it could likely happen. But there were those who would fight it all the way. She wondered if those people would kill to protect their wilderness from encroaching outsiders. Was Roy Barre’s willingness to allow a phone company to erect a tower on his property seen as the first crack in the dam they had built to hold in their traditional values? But, like Deputy Conrad, Diane couldn’t imagine anyone would kill to stop the erection of a tower.

  Diane wanted to ask who inherited the Barres’ land, but she didn’t. She didn’t want to sound as if she were sticking her nose into their business-something she fully intended to do, but more discreetly. She did wonder about the taxes on property the size of the Barres’, and she asked Conrad about them.

  “Not as much as you might think,” he said. “Barre was on the county board, along with other big landowners, and they keep property taxes down. We use sales tax and government grants to fund the schools and the sheriff’s office, the road department, and such.”

  “What did folks think about that?” asked Diane.

  “Mixed. Them that own property like it. Others don’t,” he said. “I don’t think it would be a motive for murder, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “I suppose not,” said Diane. She thought back to the image of the Barres at the dining room table. That was a very angry crime. Something was a motive. Something more serious than cell towers and property taxes.

  “I’ve been thinking about running for sheriff when Daddy retires,” said Conrad. “I could get the votes of both the old-timers and the younger people around here. Of course, no telling when Daddy will retire. He likes his job. Considers himself the county’s gatekeeper. Just around this bend we’ll come to the Massey house.”

  So soon, thought Diane. “What’s his story?” she asked. “Is his family one of the older families?”

  “Sure is. But it looks like ol’ Slick is going to be the last Massey. The family usually had girls, so the Massey name kind of disappeared. Slick inherited the house when his daddy died about seven years ago. I don’t think he’s done much to keep it up. He raises hunting dogs and works at the sawmill in Riverdale. He’s been living with his girlfriend for about five years. I think she’s a stay-at-home girlfriend. I don’t know that she works anywhere.”

  “Your county fathers don’t have anything to say about that arrangement?” asked Diane.

  Deputy Conrad grinned. “They have a lot to say, but Slick don’t go to church none to hear it.”

  “Does he own a lot of property?” asked Diane.

  “Not much, about a hundred acres. It butts up against the Barre land. They’ve argued about where the property line is, but it’s nothing serious.”

  That sounded to Diane like fuel for anger, and a possible motive. She took a deep breath as they pulled up in front of the house. It was dark and looked just as foreboding as the last time she saw it.

  “You don’t have to worry none,” said Deputy Conrad. “He won’t try nothing with me here.”

  “What about his dogs?” asked Diane.

  “Them’s huntin’ dogs. They won’t hurt you,” he said.

  Diane saw her SUV. It was where she’d left it. The door was still open, but the tree on top of the hood was gone. So was the skeleton.

  Just as they were about to get out of the Jeep, the lights came on in the house.

  Chapter 7

  “Looks like we woke them up,” said Diane.

  She had managed to slip her backbone back into place, so she was not nearly as freaked as she thought she might be when the lights came on in the house.

  “Looks like it,” said the deputy.

  Diane and Deputy Conrad got out of his Jeep and walked to her SUV. The dome light wasn’t on. It automatically turned itself off after a period of time to save the battery. Diane climbed in. The seat was wet from the rain. The key was still in the ignition. She tried to start the engine. It sputtered a little and she looked at the fuel gauge. Empty. She’d had almost a full tank when she left.

  “Well, son of a bitch,” she said.

  “What?” Deputy Conrad was standing next to her just outside the vehicle. “Something wrong?”

  “They drained my gas tank.” Diane didn’t know why she was surprised, but she was. The sheer effrontery.

  Conrad shook his head. “Slick’s got a bad habit of siphoning folks’ gas. I’ve talked to him about it more than once. Look, it’d be best not to make him give it back. He’d doctor it with sugar before he gave it to you. I’ve got some in a can in my Jeep.”

  “Well, hell,” she whispered to herse
lf as the deputy went back to his Jeep.

  She looked over to the passenger side. The contents of her purse had been dumped into the seat. Fortunately, there wasn’t much in it for them to take. The really important things she always kept on her person. Her lipstick was gone, as was a small mirror. So was her small Swiss army knife and first-aid kit she carried in her purse. She stuffed the contents back into the purse and opened her glove compartment. It was empty except for papers. No flashlight, tire gauge, or seat-belt knife. All the small change was gone out of her ashtray.

  “Jeez, these people are rats,” she whispered.

  “Wha’d you say?”

  Diane looked up into the face of Slick Massey leaning into the car. She was pissed off enough that when she looked at him again she didn’t have the fearful response that she assumed she would.

  “Nothing for your ears,” said Diane. “Where are the contents of my purse and glove compartment?”

  “Whataya talking about?” he said.

  “She’s accusin’ us of stealing from her.” It was a hard-edged female voice that Diane guessed to be the girlfriend’s.

  “Folks, let the woman get out of her vehicle.”

  Diane was glad to hear Deputy Conrad’s voice.

  Slick stepped back and Diane got out. It was starting to feel like a replay of a few hours ago. The only light they had was from her dome light she’d switched on and the deputy’s Jeep lights. Everything was in high contrast and rather surreal.

  “That’s the thanks we get for trying to help,” said the female.

  “This is Tammy Taylor,” said Deputy Conrad, nodding in the direction of a woman still in shadows. “I put a couple-three gallons in your tank. That should get you to a gas station.”

  “Thank you,” said Diane.

  Diane eyed Slick. He sported a black eye, and it took Diane a second to realize that she was the one who gave it to him. It gave her some mild satisfaction. The rest of Slick was not much to look at either. He had grubby clothes, torn, dirty jeans that, Diane realized, could have been purchased that way some places for a lot of money. His short-sleeved plaid shirt was half tucked in and half out, and only a couple of buttons were buttoned, revealing a bare chest with sparse hair and a bad tattoo of some sort of animal. He had shoulder-length, stringy blond hair with dark roots, and his straight teeth looked a brilliant white in the light. Diane assumed they were dentures.

  “She’s saying we stole her stuff,” said Tammy. She walked into the light and glared at Diane. “That’s the thanks we get for tryin’ to save your skinny ass.”

  Tammy took a drag on her cigarette and blew the smoke in Diane’s face. Diane waved it away and stepped back.

  Tammy wore black, tight capri pants and a black tank top decorated with rhinestones. Her hair was light brown, shoulder length, and frizzy. She had long, polished fingernails. All the better to scratch your eyes out, thought Diane. Tammy could have been in her thirties, forties, or pushing fifty, for all Diane could tell. Her face was lined with light wrinkles that looked like they came from too much time in the sun.

  “Miss Fallon says Slick attacked her,” said Conrad. “What about it, Slick? Did you attack her?”

  “Now, Travis, you know that ain’t true,” said Slick. “I was trying to help the woman. A tree fell on her ride here and she was all shook up.” He chuckled. “All shook up. Anyways, when I tried to see if she needed help, she slugged me and ran-and stole my flashlight, damn it. She stole my flashlight.”

  “Slick tried to find her with the dogs,” said Tammy. “I told him not to bother. If the bitch was so stupid as to run into the woods in a thunderstorm, then she deserves to get her ass drowned.” She waved her hand in the air, holding the cigarette between her fingers. “But you know Slick-what a tender heart he has. He had to go out in the rain and try to find her. Got soakin’ wet. I’ll bet he catches his death.”

  “What’s goin’ on? Is somethin’ goin’ on?” A high-pitched, plaintive voice came from the porch.

  Diane looked over and saw a woman with a walker standing backlit in the doorway of the run-down house.

  “Nothing you need to worry about, Norma, honey. You just go back in and I’ll make you some hot cocoa when I come in. Go back in. You don’t need to be out here after a storm. The air’s too wet.”

  They all watched as the woman disappeared from the doorway. Tammy stood with one arm across her midriff and the other holding her cigarette up near her face. She flicked ashes off the end of the cigarette and resumed her stance.

  “That’s my cousin Norma, visiting from Indiana. Poor thing’s not in good health. She came down here to try and recuperate. She don’t need this kind of excitement.” Tammy took another puff on her cigarette. This time she blew the smoke out the corner of her mouth.

  “Miss Fallon says a skeleton landed on the hood of her vehicle,” said Deputy Conrad. He was leaning against the fender of Diane’s SUV, touching the top where it had been bent by the falling tree. “What do you have to say ’bout that?”

  “Ain’t true,” said Slick. “Sho’ ’nuff ain’t true.”

  “That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard,” answered Tammy. “I’ll show you what she saw.”

  Tammy marched them over to the side of the road where they had pulled the tree. Among the branches was a crude plastic skeleton.

  “We hung it in that old tree last Halloween. Forgot about it. That’s what she saw. That’s what she got hysterical over,” said Tammy, grinning.

  “I don’t get hysterical over skeletons,” said Diane. “I’m fascinated by them. I’m a forensic anthropologist. I analyze skeletons for a living. I can tell bones from plastic.”

  “Well, ain’t you fuckin’ special,” said Tammy. “Looky here, Slick, we got ourselves a fuckin’ forensic anthropologist. Well, I’ll bet you’re real embarrassed about thinking ol’ bloody bones here was real. Yeah, real embarrassed.” She took a puff on her cigarette and smirked at Diane. “Your word against ours, doll. Out here you don’t mean squat.”

  “Tammy,” said Deputy Conrad, shaking his head.

  “It’s true,” Tammy said. “Do you see real bones here?”

  “Unfortunately,” said Travis Conrad, “with no body, so to speak, there’s nothing I can do.”

  Tammy’s smirk grew broader. Diane focused on the memory of the skull. Well-closed sutures, angular orbits, narrowish face, small triangular nasal opening, slight jawline, graceful brow ridge, bad teeth. Diane looked at the tree and detritus around it. Of course, it was hollow and had been cemented up. The body was inside the tree. Completely skeletonized. This was Georgia. Even in the mountains, bodies could skeletonize quickly. It was held together when it fell, but broke apart easily. Held together by what tendons it had left. Then there was the healed fracture. Diane was surprised her memory was so good at this point. Must have been the water and candy bar that Travis gave her.

  “Of course,” Diane said to the deputy. “I understand. However, if a report comes across your desk of a white adult woman who’s been missing from about three to twelve months ago, who has bad teeth, and has been beaten about the face or been in a car accident that broke her cheek and nasal area-then you need to come back and take a look around.”

  Diane watched Tammy and Slick as she spoke. Slick kept his face still, too still. There was a flash of something in Tammy’s face as she dropped her smirk and picked it up again.

  “Well, aren’t you something?” said Tammy. “You need to go into storytelling, the way you can spin a yarn at the spur of the moment like that.”

  “You’re right on, Tammy,” said Slick. “The woman’s pure entertaining.”

  “I’ll keep my eyes open,” said Deputy Conrad, looking at the two of them and shaking his head. “I sure will.”

  “I don’t suppose I can get my things back,” said Diane. “From my purse and glove compartment?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Tammy. “Accusing us of stealin’, when all we ever
did to you was try to help you. People come down this road all the time and steal stuff. You didn’t have your car locked, did you?”

  “What about Roy’s arrowheads?” said Travis. “If you guys took his arrowheads, I’ll have the National Guard out here combing your land.”

  “What the fuck do we want with a bunch of arrowheads?” said Slick. “Like Tammy said, people come and steal stuff all the time. We can’t keep nothing out what it don’t get stole. Alls we did was look in her purse to find out her name. Here this strange woman drives by and the tree falls on her. We was trying to help. Had no idea who she was. She didn’t say before she run off.”

  “I need to look in the back of my SUV,” said Diane.

  Deputy Travis nodded and they walked back over to Diane’s vehicle. Diane opened the rear door and looked at the boxes strewn across the back.

  “Well, shit,” she said.

  Chapter 8

  The boxes of artifacts were open in the back of Diane’s vehicle. Their contents were in disarray. Some were overturned and the arrowheads had spilled out on the floor.

  “Well, hell,” she muttered, and climbed in the back. “I need to sort this out.”

  “Damn it, Slick, Tammy, can’t you keep your hands off other people’s things?” said the deputy. Travis Conrad stood at the back of the vehicle with a hand on the open hatch.

  “Now you’re accusin’ us,” said Slick. “We was out lookin’ for her. When was it we had time to rifle through her stuff?”

  “You had time to move that dead tree,” said Conrad. “I doubt Tammy was out looking for her. Were you the one who went through her things, Tammy?”

  “You watch your mouth, Travis Conrad,” said Tammy. “I could say some things about you.”

  “A lot of people could, I’m sure. Did you take any of these arrowheads? I mean it. You got yourself in a heap of trouble if you did.”

  “You gone crazy, Travis? You wasn’t this pissed about the notion of a skeleton,” said Slick.