by Jason Deas
He slowly picked up his phone and stabbed at the buttons with the receiver to his ear. The other end of the phone struck his cheek. It wobbled and reminded Rachael of a bulldog.
“Your appointment is here Chief.” His brow furrowed as he listened and he crinkled his gaze upon Rachael. “I didn’t think you did.”
“I’ll tell this Ms. Rachael Martin to make a real appointment… What was that Chief? Yes, I said Rachael Martin. How would I know if she’s on television?" Rachael emphatically nodded her head to the officer. “Chief, she says she is on television. All right. OK.”
He hung up the phone, looked at Rachael with his eyes at half-mast and said, “I guess he likes you better than the Pope. He said for you to go right in. His office is right there.” He pointed with an effort that looked as though it took every last bit of energy in his body.
Rachael knocked twice and walked into Chief Neighbors’s office just as he was popping a breath mint into his mouth and combing his mustache with the index finger of his other hand. He could have been Burt Reynolds’s cousin.
“Ms. Martin,” he beamed her his best Hollywood smile. “Welcome to my town.”
Rachael took note of the fact he said “my town” as she also couldn’t help but notice the obvious way he studied her from head to foot, pausing a couple of places during his scan as his eyebrows twitched.
“How can I service you, Ms. Martin?” he said, with a devilish grin.
“Chief Neighbors,” Rachael began cautiously before she was interrupted.
“Call me Chuckie, honey.”
Rachael sensed she had to be very careful here. If she said what she was really thinking and wanting to say, this would be the last time she would ever be granted an interview with the Chief. If she turned on her Mississippi charm, she was certain he would take it as a green light to make a pass at her.
She decided to ignore his arrogance and take a business approach with a touch of friendly. Too much friendly would stroke his ego and leave him in the driver seat. She knew from past experience this type of man would give her everything she wanted if she played the hard to get role.
“Now Charles, the name Chuckie may be taken well in a quaint town like this but because of your situation here, you are about to enter onto the national stage. Believe me when I tell you, you will be better received by the general public going with your God given, and quite honestly if I may say, distinguished name, Charles. If this thing drags out a while, you will need every little public relations boost you can muster.
“Some of those press people can be awfully nasty, and you don’t want to give them any unnecessary ammo. Every dilemma needs a scapegoat, and you, Charles, will be sitting in the catbird seat. If I may be so bold and put aside my modesty for a moment, I have covered some big cases and I have seen some good folks get murdered, no pun intended, in the media.
“I am here to offer my services as a public relations consultant for you if you will give my station the first interviews when any new information arises. Let’s just say that I’ll scratch your back if you’ll scratch mine.” Rachael knew she should not have added the last bit but she also knew as she said it with a wink she had him signed, sealed and delivered.
Needing to protect his ego, which was slightly bruised, he said, “I’m going to need to mull this over for a few hours Ms. Martin. I’m not the type to make any snap decisions.”
“I understand, Charles. Here’s my card.” She leaned directly over his desk in front of him and wrote her cell number on the back. She felt his eyes goggling down her shirt. “I’m going on the air tonight at nine. Let me know if you want to be on with me and we’ll have P.R. 101 a half hour before we air.”
On her way to the door she dropped her notebook and slowly bent over to pick it up without bending her knees. If she had the deal signed, sealed and delivered before, she now had it overnight, priority, and hand delivered.
Chapter 28
Benny looked under the five-gallon paint bucket behind Hank’s Bar and Grill. The key was there as Vernon said it would be. Benny didn’t know which door it unlocked but decided to try the back door, which would be the logical choice as it was next to the bucket.
He slipped the key into the lock and the key turned with ease. He opened the door. Immediately, a nauseating smell wafted out and marched directly into Benny’s nostrils. He stepped back, surprised it was so powerful. Benny thought his dead bird theory could not possibly be true unless it was a dead flock of birds.
The bird he recalled from the first scene could not possibly produce this stench, even if it was hanging in the doorway just above his nose. Still outside, Benny was thankful he brought a bandana in case the smell made him sick. He tied the bandana tightly around his head, under his eyes, and, like a bank robber, cautiously proceeded into the bar.
Benny found a strip of light switches just inside the door and flipped them all on. The joint lit up and as he inched forward, examining everything in sight, the intensity of the rotten smell thickened. Examining the ceiling, Benny scratched his theory of a dead carcass hidden among the rafters. Benny decided the killer would have only employed this idea if it was a drop ceiling, which could easily be accessed by removing a single panel from below.
The ceilings were flat painted sheetrock. Benny doubted the killer would take the time to crawl in an attic space to leave such an item. Part of the game was discovery of the hidden item, and this would surpass the level of difficulty Benny believed the killer would want to place on his adversaries.
He made his way warily to the precise area where the body of Danny Mableton was found and scanned the room. He pushed the bandana against his nose and tightened the knot on the back of his head as he suspiciously eyed the baby grand piano. The top, which hid the strings, was closed. A fly flew from a crease between the top and lower piece of the piano where it rested.
Benny hesitated, taking a deep breath before he raised the top. Upon raising the top of the baby grand, the light from the room struck the innards of the piano. As the light poured in and Benny’s eyes gained focus, a horde of flies exited, reminiscent of bats in a mass exodus from a cave. Inside, lying lifeless against the hammers and strings of the piano were a monstrous feathered creature surrounded by smaller birds. In horror, Benny surmised the large bird was a vulture or buzzard.
He was internally revolted by the discovery, yet simultaneously joyous his instincts were still alive and well. All of this flashed through his brain and happened in an instant, at the end of which he flinched, slipping back ever so slightly, just enough to release his hold of the piano’s top. The force with which the cover dropped shook the baby grand and stirred the air beneath, thrusting the putrid stench and a rush of wind that rustled his shirt.
Benny’s face contracted as his stomach shuddered. His throat trembled, tightening for an expulsion. He ran for the door. Stumbling out of the building, Benny removed the bandana, threw it in the dumpster, and took deep breaths of fresh air. Leaning against the hood of his car, his legs weakened, he removed his shirt and pitched it over the car.
On his cell phone, he called Vernon, and on his voice mail he left a message telling him to send out his boys to take photos of the latest discovery. Hanging up the phone, Benny headed home to take a shower. He felt dirtier than he could ever remember.
Chapter 29
Chuckie Neighbors, who would soon be known to the world as Chief Charles Neighbors thanks to Rachael, called the cell phone number she gave him immediately following the five o’clock news. The broadcast made it abundantly clear the public was ready to hear from the Chief.
Rachael was in her room at the Lakeside Motor Inn compiling and reviewing the information she had gathered throughout the day when the phone rang. When her caller ID displayed the local area code, she surmised it was Chief Neighbors. She quickly formulated a plan, deciding to continue her one-sided mind game she began in his office, leaning over his desk with her chest inches from his face, followed up by the tempting bend she emp
loyed to retrieve her notebook. Rachael knew if she could get him to think with his manhood rather than his brain, she would be able to call the shots in their dealings. She ran to the bathroom, turned on the hot and cold faucets in the tub, and plugged the drain so the sound of running water would be impossible not to hear.
“Hello,” Rachael smiled as she answered.
“Ms. Martin,” Chief Neighbors said. “Is everything all right?”
“Hold on one second Charles,” Rachael commanded. In her mind she counted one, one thousand, two, two thousand, and so on to twenty. When she reached twenty, she turned the water off and said, “I’m so sorry about that Charles. I almost had the tub filled when the phone rang and I like to have the water at least above my knees. I get cold easy.”
Rachael smiled and reached her free hand down into the water, splashing just a bit as Chief Neighbors searched for something to say. One percent of his brain was working on the language task at hand while the other ninety-nine percent did a spectacular job of creating a mental picture of Rachael soaking nude in the tub. While the one percent continued to struggle, the ninety-nine was turning the still image into a movie.
Rachael knew she had him. “Are you still there Chief?”
“I, uh, oh, yes,” Chief Neighbors said, as he snapped back to reality.
“So,” Rachael began, pausing ever so briefly to make a little splash. “Will you go on the show with me tonight?” She knew the answer before she asked.
“Absolutely. You mentioned earlier you might be able to give me a few public relations tips. Do you want me to come over to your room and we can take care of that right now? Now is good for me.”
“I have a six o’clock meeting with my producer and staff. How about I come to your office at 7:30?”
“That will be fine,” Chief Neighbors said.
Rachael could hear the deflation in his voice and ended the conversation saying, “See you there, Charles.”
At the meeting in Chief Neighbors’s office, Rachael advised him what to say, what not to say, and how to respond to questions he was unable to answer without using the phrase “no comment.” Confidence didn’t seem to be a weakness, but Rachael reminded him he needed to exude with his mannerisms and body language an assurance to the public that he and his team were doing everything possible to apprehend a suspect.
Five minutes ahead of the show, Rachael thanked Chief Neighbors and wished him good luck. They were standing in front of the courthouse when the show went live. Chief Neighbors was standing to the side as the camera focused solely on Rachael for her introduction to the show.
“This is Break Down with Rachael Martin. I’m coming to you live tonight from Tilley, Georgia. This past week two bizarre murders occurred in the usually quiet town of Tilley. I have the privilege of being joined tonight with the Sheriff of Gladdis county and Chief of Police from the town of Tilley, Georgia, Charles Neighbors.” The camera pulled away from Rachael and Chief Neighbors stood, leaving a comfortable distance between the two. “First of all, thank you for being so kind to join our program this evening.”
“Thank you,” Chief Neighbors emphasized the two words. “I appreciate this opportunity to speak to my community and to all of your viewers through this unique format.”
“Why did you choose this type of forum over a standard press conference?”
“Well, that’s a great question and I’m glad you asked. My decision was based on the fact that our community does not need that type of excitement. This is already hard enough on our people and I thought a formal press conference might create a spectacle.”
“Before we get into the events of last week, explain to me how you are a Chief and a Sheriff?” Rachael probed lightly, loosening up Chief Neighbors.
“We are the smallest county in Georgia and I ran for Sheriff and won a few years back. We are so small that I can competently fulfill the duties of both offices and it cuts a salary out of our county’s budget.”
“So should I call you Sheriff Neighbors?”
“No, I prefer Chief, or Charles.”
Rachael smiled as he called himself Charles. “Are you going to request the assistance of the Federal Bureau of Investigation? As I understand, the FBI does not have jurisdiction in a crime that has not crossed state lines and will only help if requested by the Sheriff.”
“You are correct. The FBI will only get involved in certain criminal activities and those that cross jurisdictional lines. At this point, we feel that our staff is self-sufficient. We know the ins and the outs of the town, the people, and what makes it tick. In addition to our capable staff we have hired a former FBI officer as a consultant.”
The interview was a gem. Benny watched from the back of the small group of spectators. As soon as Rachael strategically blew off Chief Neighbors, Benny approached her.
“You’re even more impressive in person than on television,” he said with a warm, heart-bending smile.
“Oh,” Rachael blushed slightly. “He was easy.”
“Did you uncover anything today in addition to what you exposed on the show tonight?” Benny asked with genuine interest.
“A little,” Rachael responded. “I know it’s late, but have you had dinner?”
“No, I haven’t had time to stop for that long.”
“Do you know a place open in town this late where I can buy you dinner and we can talk?” Rachael asked with a business tone and confidence.
“Actually, I have two steaks marinating in the fridge on the boat. Would you feel comfortable having dinner at my place? I’ll buy you dinner,” Benny said with a sly smile.
“That sounds great,” Rachael responded with a purr.
Chapter 30
Benny and Rachael walked down the dock silently, each feeling a naughty sexual vibe coursing between their bodies. As they reached the boat, Benny jumped aboard first so he could steady Rachael as she adjusted to her sea legs.
She stumbled unintentionally as her heel found the only slippery spot on the entire boat, and when Benny caught her, he had one-half of her buttocks firmly cupped in one hand and his other firmly around her waist. She looked up and Benny did not move either hand besides slightly squeezing her a bit tighter. She didn’t move.
Without thinking, Benny pulled her to him and her lips met his hungry mouth. She responded and went limp. They fumbled blindly through the door and onto the couch, which swallowed them whole. When they surfaced from the depths of the couch to take a breath, Rachael’s shirt was nowhere to be found and one of the windows above the couch was beginning to fog.
Benny’s hands found her breasts as he continued to kiss her. She tugged at his belt and whipped it out flippantly as it fell with an unnoticed thud to the floor. Somehow, they magically pulled each other’s pants off in unison. Their tongues continued to do an unknown sacred dance. Benny disappeared below her waist for a few cosmic moments and caressed his way back up. The two rocked, grinded, and swayed with one another in perfect harmony.
The steaks were still marinating in Benny’s fridge.
Chapter 31
Another gentle morning graced the Sleepy Cove Marina. Rachael was cozy, wrapped in Benny’s arms. The excitement of a new relationship permeated the room. Benny was awake, staring at the ceiling, lost in his thoughts of her and the case when Rachael stirred.
Before opening her eyes, her hand traced circles and figure eights down as far as her hand would reach. She found a prize. The boat bobbed against the dock.
Energized and showered, Benny cooked the steaks, eggs, and his grandmama’s not so secret buttermilk biscuit recipe. The two lovers were famished from the release of pent up passion that had escaped from their bodies the night and moment before. They were an island unto themselves in conversation and admiration for one another as they enjoyed the well-marinated meat and biscuit recipe that once again would soon slip across family borders.
As they digested, Rachael addressed the nine hundred pound elephant, which had been standing in the middle
of the room all morning. “Benny?” she asked hesitantly. “What was last night?”
Benny knew exactly where her question was leading. “I believe it was the twentieth of May.” He watched her deadpan and waited for her comeback.
“Damn you, Mr. James,” she barked. She adjusted his Peachtree Road Race t-shirt over her knees, stretching it in a way that would never allow it to return to its original state.
“Ms. Martin,” Benny countered. “I’ll lay it out for you real clear. I don’t play games and I live my life one day at a time. Why don’t we live today and tomorrow will take care of itself?" Benny paused. “You’re worried about tomorrow, right?”
“Yes,” she let her head drop as her guard sank towards the lake’s bed to commune with the bottom feeding catfish.
“Come here, baby,” Benny motioned for her to join him on the notorious couch, made famous the night before. She joined him and they spooned. Benny smelled her hair and rested his hand under her shirt against her bare stomach. Rachael relaxed and once again melted, feeling at home in Benny’s arms.
“One day at a time,” Benny stroked her hair with one hand while the other pulsed on her abdomen. “OK?”
“OK,” Rachael responded. “I’m a little type-A.”
“Really!” Benny mocked.
“I could use this,” Rachael sighed. “It’s likely that I will only be in town for a week or two.” She reached back and found what she was looking for. “Do you mind if I bring my toothbrush over?”
“As long as your suitcase is attached to it,” Benny answered as he responded to her groping in another manner. They killed another thirty minutes. It was noon before they saw the sun that day.
Chapter 32
Rachael headed out for the day to continue her research and to get her toothbrush. Benny washed the breakfast dishes and tidied up a bit as the thought of her draped over his pulsating brain. His mind reverberated with thoughts of the murder case and his desire to have Rachael back with him regardless of the fact she had just left.
