Death By Drowning

by Abigail Keam

  Matt finished the caretaker’s house and invited me to dinner. Small but cozy, just perfect for a single person, the sparsely furnished four rooms with colors of pale greens and browns reflected Matt’s aesthetic taste. After the main course, we sat on the little porch and watched my peacocks strut in the yard while the sun settled in the distance behind the Berea knobs, the last gasp of the Appalachian Mountains before they gave way to the graceful hills of the Bluegrass. From Matt’s porch, one could see for fifty miles or more.

  To the south of Matt’s porch vista was Whitehall, the home of Cassius M. Clay, the fiery emancipationist, who donated land for Berea College where beginning in 1855, both blacks and whites could get an education. This was stopped by the Day Law in 1904, when a member from the Kentucky legislature attended a graduation ceremony. Appalled at seeing integration, he drummed Jim Crow through the legislature at the next session. Black Kentuckians couldn’t get an education at schools where whites attended until the law was amended again in 1950. This story was not one of Kentucky’s finest.

  But every time I saw the knobs, I thought of Berea College’s creed – “God has made of one blood all peoples of the earth.”

  Awakening from his nap and not finding me home, Baby followed my scent to the cottage. Feeling threatened upon seeing him, the male peacock gave a grand display of his turquoise feathers while hissing at Baby, who took no notice of him. Giving me an accusing look, the fawn mastiff plopped down near the porch steps and would not be comforted until Matt had given him a plate of leftovers.

  “I think I better be going,” I replied to Matt’s inquiry about dessert.

  “I’ll drive you home.”

  “I’ll walk. Can still see. It’s just turning dusk.”

  Matt looked dubious but said, “Call me when you reach the Butterfly so I won’t worry. I’ll call Jake and tell him you are on your way.”

  “Sure thing.” I grabbed my cane and after waving goodbye, started down the gravel driveway to my house. The gravel was tedious to walk on, but I was too proud to say that I had made mistake and needed a ride home. Matt watched me for a moment and then went into the house. Baby, realizing that he might have to sleep outside if he didn’t come with me, lumbered to his feet and followed at a distance. I pulled a taser out of my pocket in case a coyote got too inquisitive. Just the noise of a taser would make a coyote think twice.

  Seeing that the lights were on in the old tobacco barn, I went in and found Shaneika brushing her stallion, who stirred at my entrance. “Whoa boy, whoa. She’s not going to hurt you,” soothed Shaneika. She rubbed his velvety muzzle, giving the horse a peppermint.

  I stayed a safe distance away, plopping down on a bale of hay. “You really went and bought a racehorse. He’s so beautiful,” I said, admiring the horse’s gleaming dark coat and black mane. “What’s his name?”

  “Comanche,” she said, brushing his mane while the stallion chewed contentedly. “I felt he needed a strong name. Not after the tribe, but a documented survivor of Custer’s stand at Little Big Horn.”

  “I knew that,” I relayed, batting my eyelashes. I guess the name referred to a horse since no white soldier at the battle survived that day. I would have to look it up when I got home. “I would have just called him Scout.”

  “As in Tonto’s horse?”

  “Hey, you know your horses.”

  “You’re not the only one who has useless information rolling around in her head. Besides you renamed those nags you saved Scout and Silver. It doesn’t take much to realize you have a thing for the Lone Ranger.”

  “Everyone should know things like that. It is part of our cultural history. What was the name of Dale Evans’ horse?”

  “Buttermilk.”

  “How about Gene Autry’s horse?”

  “Champion.”

  “Okay. How about the horse from Mister Ed?”

  Shaneika gave me a weird look. “Uh, Mister Ed.”

  “Oh yeah, right. Well, the Lone Ranger is a cherished icon from my childhood. I wish I had kept my Lone Ranger lunchbox. It would be worth a small fortune now.”

  “Have you read that material I sent you?” asked Shaneika, wishing to change the subject.

  “Not yet. I need to do that soon, as Irene will be asking for answers.” I summed up my meetings with Sarah Dunne and Maggie Moore. Franklin had also sent me information, which I hadn’t studied yet. It was just depressing, sifting through a dead boy’s life. “What do you think?” I asked.

  “I think Jamie was no different from any other boy of fifteen. He had secrets from his family. From what you told me, it seems he was sexually active.”

  “Yeah, but with whom? Everyone I’ve talked to confirms that he went to school and came straight home afterwards. When he wasn’t working on the farm, he was on the river.”

  “Didn’t you say that a girl his age worked at the vineyard?”

  “She said there wasn’t anything between them.”

  “And you believed her?”

  “Maybe I should talk to her again. You’re right. If I were she, I wouldn’t tell something like that to a stranger.” Seeing that it was now the last gasp of twilight, I hummed the William Tell Overture as I waved. “Farewell, Kemosahbee!”

  Heading home, Baby rejoined me from a foray into the woods. I sang Happy Trails to him until I came to the beeyard. “Just gonna take a quick look-see,” I said to Baby. Turning into the bee pasture, I was about eight feet in when I spied a dark figure moving near my hives.

  I gasped. I couldn’t get out any more sounds. Sensing my fear, Baby purposely moved in front of me, pressing against my legs, growling. Upon hearing the dog’s warning, the shadowy figure looked up, only to flee into the woods. I grabbed Baby’s collar and pulled him with me as I hobbled down the gravel road. Wanting to protect me, Baby jerked loose and ran in circles, only impeding my way. “Don’t make me fall, Baby. I won’t be able to get back up,” I cried at the frantic dog. Finally remembering the emergency necklace that Jake had given me, I pushed on the panic button, again and again.

  It must have been just over three minutes, when a jeep with bright search lights came rushing up the road. I pounded on the car hood as Jake and Cody jumped out of the jeep. Jake grabbed me and pushed me into the vehicle as Cody searched the perimeter with his gun drawn. Jake yelled at me to get down while he swerved the jeep around and headed towards the house. Cody jumped on the running board and held on. Once home, they surrounded me until they got me into the Butterfly. The phone was ringing. Jake answered it and muttered something like . . . “hurry!” It must have been either Shaneika or Matt calling.

  Cody brought me a glass of water and then left to search the property. Jake ran to get the nebulizer as I had begun a serious asthma attack. I slid to the floor as Matt suddenly appeared before me in a T-shirt and boxer shorts. He lifted me into a chair.

  Out of the corner of my eye, Brannon was sitting in his favorite chair reading the newspaper. “Now?” he mouthed to me.

  Go away, Brannon, I thought. Looking disappointed, Brannon shimmered and then was gone.

  I had more pressing problems than a dead husband beckoning me from beyond the grave. It felt like someone was standing on my chest. Heaving for air, I tore at my shirt. Matt grabbed my hands as he yelled at Jake to hurry. Everything seemed on the verge of going dark when Jake rushed into the room and threw Matt an adrenaline pen before he plugged in the nebulizer and poured abuterol into its opening. Matt tore off the cap of the pen and plunged the needle into my thigh. I jerked forward. Seconds later a life-saving steam emerged from the nebulizer mouthpiece, which Jake pushed into my mouth. The medicine found its way into my lungs, allowing my chest to expand more until my inhaling was longer and smoother. Matt let go of my hands.

  Opening my eyes, I saw Shaneika standing tightly in a corner. She looked frightened. Jake spoke with her before she gave me one last quick look and departed. Finally my breathing was slow and steady. Jake turned off the machine and removed its mout
hpiece. I was terrified. The idea that O’nan might be on the property was causing me to spin out of control just when I needed to focus. Plus my chest and thigh hurt like the dickens. Blood dripped from my cheek where I had scratched myself.

  “Why did you push the panic button?” questioned Jake, speaking very loudly.

  “Someone in the beeyard. When he heard me, he ran. It’s O’nan. I think he’s here!” I cried out. I tried to get up but Jake pushed me back into the chair.

  He said something else to me.

  “What? What are you saying? Can’t hear you. Speak up.”

  Cody strode in with my hearing aid and a carved piece of wood. He shook his head at Jake as he dropped the hearing aid in my lap. Jake checked it and put it on my ear as my hands were shaking far too violently to help. “Can you hear me more clearly?” asked Jake.

  I nodded. Cody handed me the carved wooden stick.

  “What’s this?” I asked.

  Jake gave a slight nod of his head, giving Cody to signal to depart, which he swiftly did. Pulling up a chair, Jake sat down. His forehead was deeply creased and his jowls seemed slack as though his skin had been pulled loose. “Man, I feel really bad about this. I should have warned you,” he confessed.

  “That O’nan is in Lexington?” I couldn’t stop shivering.

  “Boss Lady, it’s not O’nan. It is not someone who will hurt you.” Jake looked helplessly at Matt. “I don’t know how to explain this. We thought it best not to tell you because we never thought you would see him.”

  Matt leaned forward and held my hand. “It’s not O’nan. It’s Boo Radley.”

  “Huh? Talk sense, Matt,” I demanded.

  “It’s not the Boo Radley; it’s your Boo Radley. That’s the best way to explain it.”

  “Like Boo Radley from To Kill A Mockingbird?”

  “When the rescue team brought you up, you had a tree branch through your thigh. One of the paramedics pulled me aside and told me what a good job I had done; otherwise you would have bled out. He then asked me how I could have gotten down and back up the cliff so fast.

  “Like I told you before. I didn’t go down the cliff. I couldn’t see in the dark. I thought you were dead. I went to find Franklin. But when the paramedics got to you, the branch had been trimmed with a knife and a tourniquet was tied on your leg, plus there was moss packed around the branch to stanch the bleeding. Whoever it was knew enough not to pull the branch out of your leg.”

  I listened, but could barely believe what I was hearing.

  Matt continued his monologue as though reliving a dream. “When the big kahuna arrived the next afternoon, I told her about the tourniquet. Her first thought was it might have been O’nan, but she ruled out that possibility two days later when her men discovered a cave in the Palisades cliffs about three miles from here.”

  “What did she find?” I asked, my heart pumping fast.

  To my chagrin, Matt’s lips turned into a short smile.

  “This is not funny,” I fumed.

  “Actually, it is. Our mistake was not telling you about it, but we thought you would never see him.” Matt took a deep breath. “She found a hermit who had been living in a cave for over a year without detection.”

  “A hermit! Is he crazy?”

  “Nope. His background is good. No history of drugs, violence or anti-social behavior. The situation was explained to him. He was very cooperative and let us check him out. He turns out to be a true ascetic. Wants only to be left alone so he can contemplate God. Came here because he said Kentucky was a very spiritual place. He’s actually a very nice guy. But what makes him so odd is that he is an ex-rapper Hasidic Jew from the East Coast. Since we knew your beliefs of live and let live, she didn’t run him off. Besides he wasn’t living on your property anyway and had saved your life.”

  I squinted at Jake and Matt. Would they lie to me about O’nan only to replace it with a more outrageous lie? What was the truth here?

  “What’s his name?”

  “His real name is Moshe Goren but his stage name is Magnus J.”

  I studied the wood. It was a handsomely carved walking stick with figures of honeybees and occult signs. “These are kabbalah symbols,” I said, turning the wood over.

  “How can you tell?” asked Jake.

  “Because I was once a professor of art history specializing in religious symbols,” I quipped. I pointed to a symbol. “This is the kabbalah tree of life. This sign over here is the circle of the five worlds. Each ring in the circle represents a plane of existence – God, emanation, creation, formation and action. This group of symbols with the Hebrew letters and the eye represents protection against the evil eye.”

  “It must be a gift for you, Josiah,” said Matt, fingering the carving of a queen bee. “He’s leaving gifts for you like Boo Radley did for Jean Louis and Jem.”

  “That’s great. Just great. I’ve always said what I need is an ex-rapper Hasidic Jew carving mystical prayer canes for me, sneaking around on my property like some nut and scaring the bejeebies out of me. Now I can see why you didn’t think you needed to tell me about him.”

  I was so mad I could have spit cotton. I grabbed my walking stick and hobbled into the kitchen, where I got out a gallon of vanilla ice cream plus a spoon and marched past Jake to my office. “Don’t say a thing to me,” I muttered. “I’m going to eat every bit.” I slammed the office door and sat on the corner of my desk eating my ice cream. Suddenly feeling nauseous, I put the container outside the door and let Baby finish the rest it at his post of guarding the hallway. He put the tub between his two mammoth paws and buried his face in the container happily.

  I picked up the wooden walking staff and examined it. It was made of sycamore wood, probably found floating in the river. It was not professionally carved, nor sandpapered or even stained. It was a rough piece of wood, but it had a powerful quality about it. Obviously someone had taken much time to carve all the symbols and flying honeybees. It was folk art in its most primitive and raw form. I felt drawn to it. Walking around the room, it felt natural to be by my side as though it had be specially designed for me. I decided it would be my country walking staff and the cane Franklin got me would be my town cane.

  I tossed the staff in the corner. My throat felt raw and my ribs were throbbing. I took a hit of the abuterol spray kept on the desk. My body was literally quivering from all the adrenaline. Be careful, I thought, adrenaline is what did Richard Pidgeon in. Ignoring the shaking, I booted up my computer. While waiting for my tired old machine to respond, I opened the mail. Bills, bills and more bills.

  I came across Shaneika’s folder and tentatively opened it. As I had hoped, it contained copies of Jamie Dunne’s coroner’s report and death certificate. It was sad reading. Jamie’s body contained no drugs, no sign of disease; just a healthy Kentucky boy on his way to manhood. His face, arms and hands contained scratches that were indicative of someone tipping over in a kayak and struggling near the bank where there were sharp rocks. There was one contusion on the left side of his head that could have been caused by him rushing up from the water and hitting his head on the overturned kayak. No suspicion of foul play. Death was ruled accidental. I put the documents in a file marked Jamie and put it aside.

  Under various clothing catalogs was an envelope from Franklin. The word PRIVATE was scratched on it along with a frowning smiley face. Not good.

  I tore it open. Franklin had gone on Facebook and MySpace to track down Jamie’s friends who were on Sarah’s list. He had downloaded pages with photos of Jamie with his friends at school functions. A blond-haired Jamie with his tanned muscular arms around several girls at a dance. Jamie with his buddies giving wannabe gang symbols. Jamie and others skateboarding in the school parking lot. Jamie and another boy leaning against an old ratty car smiling innocently at the photo taker. There was no patter by his friends thinking his death was anything but an accident. This was a big help. The last thing I wanted to do was to interview his friends and have a
slew of angry parents on my fanny.

  The last page was a picture downloaded from YouTube of a group of army nurses in the desert singing Girls Just Wanna Have Fun. Franklin had circled something behind them, but I couldn’t make out what it was. Pulling out my magnifying glass, I studied the photo under a light, but my hands were still trembling so much, I couldn’t make out what he wanted me to see.

  My computer beeped in readiness. I typed in YouTube and then the name of the video Franklin had written for me in bold letters. Five army nurses in desert fatigues with arms locked around each other giggled to Cyndi Lauper’s song while kicking up their legs. Behind them, trucks and personnel scooted back and forth whipping up dust. They must have been in front of a heavily traveled road. A jeep stopped with several official-looking men as a woman dressed in black walked from the left side of the frame and stood next to the jeep conversing. She was wearing Kevlar and lugging a huge official-looking briefcase handcuffed to her wrist. A man scooted over to make room for her in the jeep. She turned for an instant and gave the briefest frown at the singing nurses before turning back to the men in the jeep. She said something to the men. The driver of the jeep yelled at the nurses and one woman went to turn the video off. Then the video ended.

  NO! IT COULDN’T BE!

  I brought the video up again and again. I couldn’t testify positively in a court of law, but in my heart I knew. I picked up the phone and put it down. Jake had probably already made his call. All I had to do was wait.

  At ten p.m., the phone rang. I called out from my bed that I had it.

  “Hello.”

  “Hey. Heard you had a bad asthma attack. How are you doing?”

  “Better. But, of course, if I had been told of a hermit lurking about the property, I might have been better prepared.”

  “That was my call. Now I realize that it was a stupid one, but you had so much on your plate. I thought if you hadn’t detected him in a year, you still wouldn’t see him for another one. I’m sorry. It was a bad decision.”

  “Yes, it was. You are distracted and not realizing that these little surprises are taking a toll on me.”