Alfie Carter

by BJ Mayo

  “Hey Bea,” I said. “How was your day?”

  “Alfie, I did not hear you come in.”

  “What are you reading?”

  “Oh, just a book. Kind of a love story, I guess. How was your day?”

  “Same old, same old.”

  “Are you working on the girl’s case that hung herself?”

  “Yes,” I said, and left it at that.

  “I really don’t feel like cooking. How about we go get a hamburger?”

  “I was just thinking about a bowl of soup, grilled cheese sandwich, and a beer.”

  “Let me fix you just that,” she said, laying down the book.

  She stopped when she reached me and gave me a tremendous bear hug and kissed me on the lips. “I thought about you today,” she said and headed off to the kitchen.

  “If you were thinking about me, you must have been bored.”

  She laughed out loud when I said this as always. “And why would I not be thinking about you?” she asked with her hands on her hips, feigning incredulity that I would say that.

  “Well, I am just saying that you probably have better things to think about than me, that’s all.”

  “Well, I will determine what I choose to think about, thank you. That is something you do not do, understand?”

  “Yes, ma’am, understood. I will go wash up.”

  She brought me my supper on a tray while I watched the evening news. Our conversation dried up pretty quickly after that. I watched the news and a Western then turned in at my normal 9:30 time. As usual, she washed the dishes and then returned to her reading.

  It was 2:50 p.m. on Friday when I pulled up to the Feed Store. Be it by chance or by her own doing, there were no other vehicles in the parking lot but Rose’s white Jeep truck. Our appointment was for 3:00 p.m. When I got to the door I understood why. There was a “closed for inventory” sign on the door.

  Rose opened the door as I was reaching for the handle. Her perfume carried out the doorway. “Come in, Captain,” she said, waving her hand. “You look hot in your uniform. I’m closed for inventory. Didn’t wear my normal clothes, it is so hot.”

  Rose had on a pair of very red and very tight shorts, tennis shoes with little matching ankle socks, and a white t-shirt. Everything she had on accentuated her shape. I tried not to look.

  “Let’s go sit down, Captain, and have a glass of tea. Sound good to you?”

  I sat in one of her leather chairs while she poured two glasses of tea. She sat them both on the little, round table and pulled her chair directly in front of me.

  “I appreciate you seeing me today, Rose. I have a pretty tight schedule. Did you come up with anything on the lead rope?”

  “Captain, you can’t be in that big of a hurry. Let’s enjoy our tea and visit a little.”

  “Ma’am, I really have to move on pretty quick, it would be nice to see what you have on the lead rope if you have anything.”

  “You are such a killjoy, Captain. I do have a name that matches up to the tag number you gave me, it was 3404, right?”

  “That is correct.”

  “I kept it on me all day in my shorts pocket.” She stood and made quite a show trying to get it out of her pocket. “It is real tight in these shorts,” she said, finally fumbling the receipt. She handed it to me.

  “What is the signature on the receipt?” I asked.

  “Well, Captain, it is Turtle Vines.”

  “Do you know him?”

  “Why, yes, Captain, he is the Ag teacher at the high school. He’s been there many years and a steady customer of mine. Looks like he purchased this about six months ago.” Rose was sitting directly across from me, sipping on her glass of tea. “What else can I get for you, Captain?”

  Her forward behavior made me blush. “I think that will do. You have been very helpful,” I said.

  “I like a man in uniform. My husband is a nail salesman. His uniform is a nasty apron in a hardware store.”

  Donning my hat, I stood and thanked her for the tea. “Remember, Rose, this information is extremely confidential.”

  “Don’t worry, Captain, sir,” as she saluted. “Everything between you and me is safe. I mean everything.”

  “Very well,” I said. “That is good. Can you let me out the door?”

  She was still standing in front of the front door when I started my vehicle. Hands on hips. I could not get out of there quick enough.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Turtle Vines had been employed by Spring High School for nineteen years, and was into his twentieth when we met. I arranged to meet him on a Monday afternoon during his conference period at 2:00 p.m. He was a short, stocky man with blue eyes. He had on what I would expect from an Ag teacher: boots, jeans, and a western yoke shirt with pearl snap buttons and a genuine smile. His cap came from the ag co-op. His belt buckle was large with a man on a horse roping a steer.

  “Are you a steer roper, Mr. Vines?” I asked, looking down at his buckle.

  “Hell, this?” he laughed. “I used to be, back in the day. I used to do a lot of things back in the day. Yes, you could say I was a steer roper,” he laughed. “It helped me pay my way through college. Made enough money to pay for my riggings, gasoline, and pony. Maybe a few dollars thereafter. But never was good enough to go professional. Maybe that was a good thing. Well, my conference period is only thirty minutes, detective. Let’s get on with it. Am I in some kind of trouble?”

  “No, I wouldn’t say that, Mr. Vines.”

  “Please, call me Turtle.”

  “Okay, Turtle, I wouldn’t say that. I am investigating the death of a child from this high school. The Couch girl.”

  Turtle teared up immediately and began wiping his eyes.

  “I will tell you, detective, I love all of these high school kids. Spend a lot of time with the Ag girls and boys in FFA. And I don’t care where they come from, I love all of them. That broke my heart. Such a young girl. Me and Mama never had kids. I treat all of them like my own. Exactly what happened out there? Rumors in the teacher’s lounge are running rampant. I try to stay away from that gossip crap and just keep my mouth shut.”

  “Well, Turtle, I am working on the case now and I cannot tell you exactly, that is why I am paying you a visit.” His eyes narrowed. I pulled out the receipt Rose had given me. “What can you tell me about this receipt?”

  Turtle looked it over carefully and handed it back to me. “Detective, that is for a lead rope I bought from Rose McDonald down at the feed store. I buy all of our Ag lead ropes from her. For consistency, when we show. Want them all to look alike. Besides, no one else in town sells them.”

  “Yes, sir. That is what I understand,” I said.

  “Well, what is the deal, detective? What does this have to do with the Couch girl?”

  “Turtle, all of these ropes have a specific number on the inside clasp. This particular rope was the one that was around Jenna Couch’s neck when we found her hanged at the lake house.”

  Turtle’s eyes widened. “Why, how in thunder did she get it? She is not in Ag.” His mind was running ninety miles a second as he pondered. “Let me see that receipt again,” he said. He studied it carefully.

  “Where do you keep all of the lead ropes, Turtle?” I asked.

  “Why, down at the Ag barn, where they belong,” he said. “Only the Ag kids have access to them.”

  “This particular rope looked new. Are they kept locked up, can anyone access them?”

  “They are hanging on a wall on little individual hangers. I guess anyone could grab one if they wanted. They would have to have a key like the Ag kids do to get into the barn to check their animals.” Turtle stood and looked out the conference room window with his arms crossed and one hand on his chin. “How in thunder? How in the thunder? You know, detective, there are a lot of kids with a lot of projects, and I’m not just talking about Ag projects. I give them what I can if they ask me.”

  “Exactly what are you trying to say, Mr. Vines?”


  “Well, it is coming into a little better focus now, but there was this girl.”

  “What girl?”

  “She was one of the senior cheerleaders at the school. I think her name is Brittany, or something like that. She came to see me about a month ago. Maybe a month and a half.”

  “Go on, Turtle.”

  “Well, detective, she asked me if she could borrow a rope. I swear, I forgot all about it. Kids are asking for stuff all the time. Do you have a horseshoe, can you spare a bale of hay for our project, or some damn hayride? But she sure did ask for a rope. I guess it was this rope.”

  “Do you think she gave it to the Couch girl?”

  “Hard to say, Mr. Vines. But it got to her somehow, someway, I guess. I would have never loaned it to her if I would have known it had come to this.”

  “Mr. Vines, that is the way the world is tilted, I am afraid. There is really nothing in our control, is there? How would you have known about where and what this rope would be used for?”

  “Well, I guess I wouldn’t,” he said. “I damn sure would not have loaned it.”

  “I understand. Also, Mr. Vines, this investigation is confidential. You may be called to testify. I would ask you to keep our conversation private and under no conditions share it with anyone, agreed?”

  “Absolutely, detective. I understand completely. It is still a sad day when it comes to this. I am available anytime, day or night, if you need me. You might want to visit with the school superintendent. Not telling you how to run your business. Thomas Orlager is a good man. Of course, he is the only one I ever worked for, but he is honest. I’ll tell you that. Never lied to me in all of these years. When he says it’s red, it is red.”

  For some reason, I thought of the tight shorts Rose had on at the feed store on “inventory day,” as she said. She had a way of embarrassing you when she was not around.

  “You look flushed, detective, need a glass of water?”

  “Yes, that would be good.”

  I thanked him as I walked out of the conference room. Turtle Vines appeared to be an honest man with a big heart for kids. He had gained my respect and admiration. Anyone that wants to work with high school kids is fairly tough and must like the job. I still did not understand the attraction for Bea, working down at the orphanage with those kids. They did not seem to have much hope for a real life, it seemed to me. All of their clothes were donated by the local good folks, wanting to feel better about themselves. I thought about the pair of boots the neighbor gave me when I was young.

  As usual, I tried to move as quickly as possible on this case. It was always a puzzle, with one piece connecting to the other until a complete picture came into view. This one was no different. “Loose lips sink ships” was my motto. You never knew for sure who would keep their word and keep their mouth shut. I have been on multiple cases where they knew I was coming before I got there. I just wanted to find out exactly what had happened to Jenna Couch. It was starting to sound like there was more to the case than just a girl taking her own life. I was confident Turtle would keep his word. Rose? I was not so sure.

  I could not go higher than Tom Orlager in the Spring school system. His secretary confirmed he was not available for a few days, due to meetings. She put me down for the following Tuesday at 9:00 a.m. She said he was meeting with the president of the PTA at 8:00 that same morning. She also said he may be in a foul mood after that meeting, so be prepared. I could only imagine a meeting with the PTA president. Like any organization in the school system, when there were parents involved, it generally centered around their kid or kids and the promotion thereof. The parents seemed to live vicariously through their kids’ lives, pushing and promoting their kids to make themselves look good.

  Bea and I quit making the football games a long while back, due to the behavior of the parents. We sat in the stands for years, dutifully cheering on the team. After several near-fistfights, cuss fights, and family against family, we quit.

  In any event, I would give Mr. Orlager the high side of the road after the meeting with the PTA president. Of course I could not repeat what his secretary had said in private. Maybe the visit with Mr. Orlager would prove to be pivotal in the search for answers. Maybe it would not. Sometimes in protecting an institution, which may or may not bear any responsibility, answers get lost in whirlwinds of minutiae. Giving an answer that is not an answer. Lawyer-speak. Evasiveness and twisting of words. Based on what Turtle Vines told me, though, I should expect that of this individual.

  I sat quietly in the waiting area in the superintendent’s spacious lobby. The local tax revenues from the oil companies in the county had been good for the school. They had put the money to good use in building a new junior high school. They were able to put a new football stadium in, with a little bond money. Every time there was a bond election issue with more tax revenue needed to pay for a dream, there was conflict. The new football stadium did not seem to cause the normal stir, as all they had to raise was about five million dollars, with the oil revenues providing the rest.

  The lobby was adorned with new dark cherrywood furniture and Western artwork. Nine a.m. came and went with no Mr. Orlager. His secretary stepped out and approached me. “I am sorry, Mr. Orlager will be about thirty minutes late. His first meeting is taking longer than expected.”

  I assured her that would be no problem. It must be quite a meeting. Finally, around 9:40 a.m., the door swung open and out marched a woman in a tennis outfit. She appeared fit to be tied.

  “I have a doubles match at the Country Club in twenty minutes. Because of you, I will be late.”

  An exasperated Tom Orlager offered a feeble, “I’m sorry it took so long.”

  “Well, Tom, you just remember what I said. The PTA will not tolerate it, and you better not either.”

  “We will stay in touch,” he said. “I promise.”

  She turned smartly and strode out the door and into the hallway. He looked at me with his spectacles on the end of his nose.

  “Are you Detective Carter?”

  “Yes, sir. Perhaps a better time, Mr. Orlager?”

  “No, there is not a better time. I am sorry you had to witness that spectacle. Let’s go to my office.”

  Mr. Orlager quietly shut the door behind him and seated me.

  “No one can hear us in here. I am sorry you had to witness that ogre of a woman,” he said, his face reddening, “and I should not be calling her names. She is one of the reasons I may retire early. Always threatening. I cannot imagine how she was elected to head the organization. She is so overbearing, I think no one will ever challenge her. Our only hope is when her daughter is out of school. Seems like the apple did not fall far from the tree. Don’t mind me, I am just venting and should not be. Especially to you. I don’t even know you.”

  “That is okay, Mr. Orlager, it is safe with me. Vent all you want. What is she threatening you about, if I may ask?”

  “You may ask and I will tell you. She wants a separate van to haul all of the cheerleaders on all out-of-town games. Can you imagine such a waste of dollars? Everyone else rides on the school buses, for gosh sake, including the teams. The sanctimoniousness is nearly unbelievable.”

  “Well, I guess so,” I said. “What are you going to do about her request?”

  “I’ll be damned if we are ever going to let her get by with it. She claims that the cheerleaders represent everything good about the school and should be treated as such. Again, I am sorry. Every time I deal with her it is like a preparing for and having a colonoscopy. You ever had one, Detective? Well, there is nothing fun about it. Drinking the juice, crapping all night, and then getting a rotor rooter shoved up your rear. She leaves my butt irritated every time. It takes me days to get over it. Want a cup of coffee? Let me get us one and I can settle down a little and visit when I get a little caffeine in my system. I did not have time to drink my morning cup of coffee before she burst in my door.”

  Mr. Orlager disappeared for a few minutes.
I could smell the coffee being brewed. He brought in two steaming cups on a tray with milk creamer on the side.

  “You take cream, Detective?”

  “No, straight will do.”

  When he finished doctoring his coffee, he took a sip and let out a long sigh. “Now, that is better. What can I do for you?”

  “Well, in light of the morning’s events, I am afraid to tell you.”

  “Go ahead. Go ahead,” he said. “If I can handle her, I can handle anything you have to tell me. Someone in trouble at the school?”

  “Well, I cannot say at this time. But based on my current investigation, someone maybe needs to be talked to.”

  “Go on, detective. What does it concern?”

  “It concerns the death of Jenna Couch, sir.”

  “You know, detective, I don’t consider myself an overly perceptive man, but somehow in the back of my mind I thought that might be why you are here. I gave my condolences to her parents by phone the day after it happened. That girl was a lovely girl. She was not in the top-tier group, we shall say. She was a very good athlete. I did not know her personally. There have been all kind of rumors floating around. I simply disregard them. I cannot imagine why she took her own life. What do you need from me?”

  “Mr. Orlager, again, after what transpired this morning, I am nearly afraid to tell you, but here goes. I went to the lake house and met the JP right after her death was reported. I personally gathered evidence at the scene and was there when they took her down and to the funeral home. It seems that the rope used in the event was somehow borrowed from the Ag teacher, Turtle Vines. He indicated that kids borrow things all of the time from the Ag department for use in projects. He thought nothing about loaning out this rope. However, this rope is a lead rope for use on animals, leading them by halter in livestock shows and training them to lead. Mr. Vines uses only one type of lead rope with a certain type of swivel.”

  Mr. Orlager leaned over his desk with deep interest. “Go on, detective.”

  “Each swivel is stamped with a number. He buys all of them from the only place in town that sells them, Rose’s Feed Store.” I paused for a moment.