Paradise Park

by Carolina Mac

  Harold asked, “Now, regular issues to discuss?”

  MARG AND SHEILA left the meeting together. When they reached the corner of Pine and Maple, Sheila tuned left.

  “You’re not going to see if Gary’s sulking, are you?” asked Marg sounding unhappy.

  “I might be,” said Sheila. “They said some mean stuff to him in the meeting.”

  “Mean stuff?” Marg threw up her hands. “That bastard is the mayor of Meansville. Shit like that rolls off his ugly tattooed back. Go if you want to. I’m not going near the lying bastard.”

  “I’ll be home later.” Sheila gave a little wave and took off on her sparrow legs at a jog.

  Marg shook her head and walked up Pine Street to Sheila’s trailer.

  LONNIE AND I sauntered hand in hand up Pine Street and turned left onto Hickory Lane.

  “That was a lot of nothing,” Lonnie said. “They haven’t got a clue who raped April and they can’t find Rob Eastman.”

  “Which trailer belongs to Rob’s brother?” I asked.

  “Why?” Lonnie sounded alarmed whenever I mentioned Rob’s name and it gave me the shivers.

  “Probably nothing. I had the feeling somebody was watching me when I was jogging with Ted, but I don’t know if it was the right trailer.”

  “Why did you think somebody was watching you?” Lon’s breathing quickened.

  “I saw the curtains move as we passed by. I think I overreacted and made Ted run faster.”

  “Fuck,” hollered Lonnie. “Wonder if Rob sneaked back to Gary’s trailer and is holed up in there.” He ran his hands through his thick mop of hair. “Any sign of his bike?”

  “No. I’m not sure it was even his brother’s trailer.”

  “Damn it, Gracie. I don’t like this one bit.” Lonnie stood behind her holding the screen door while she put her key in the lock. “Let’s have a beer, then we’ll take Ted for a walk. Meantime I’m phoning Harold to see which trailer is Eastman’s.”

  When Lonnie became upset and started yelling, I wished I hadn’t said anything. I hugged Ted for moral support and kissed his velvet ears while Lonnie phoned the park boss.

  “Okay, third from the back gate, backing onto the bush. Got it. Thanks Harold. Oh, nothing. Just wondering.” Lonnie eyed me as I processed the information. I inhaled sharply and tightened the choke hold on Ted’s neck.

  Yep. That was the trailer.

  “Come here.” Lonnie held his arms out and waited for me to release the dog and move onto his knee. I buried my face in his neck and he stroked my hair. “I’ll kill him before I’ll let him hurt you,” he whispered.

  “We’ll walk after ten.” I put my open mouth over Lonnie’s and leaned into the kiss.

  I need to feel close to him to make the fear go away.

  He moaned as I thrust my tongue into his mouth and ran my free hand up under his shirt. I pulled Lon’s t-shirt up from the bottom and licked his right nipple while my left hand gently rubbed the front of his jeans. Jeans that were becoming tighter on my man. I unzipped him, giving him breathing room and slid my hand down the front of his shorts.

  Lonnie groaned long and low as I slowly brought him around. Then without preamble or a hint of modesty I whipped off my jeans and underwear and straddled him on the chair, taking him deep inside of me.

  “Jesus,” Lonnie mumbled as he wrapped both arms around me and held me close.

  I thrust myself down on him until he was gasping for breath and he gave it up with a loud holler.

  After tidying up a little, I emerged from the bathroom. “Ready to go for a walk, Ted?”

  Ted dragged himself off the sofa, yawned and wagged his long tail. The two of us joined Lonnie on the deck where he was having a smoke. Ted’s leash lay across his knee and he seemed more relaxed.

  “Don’t know if I can walk yet, Gracie.” He chuckled, “I think you fucked me crippled.”

  “I’d do you sideways and six times on Sunday. That’s how much I love you, Lon.” I buried my face in his neck and kissed him. “Mmm…you taste good. Maybe I’ll do you on the deck.”

  He grinned as he snapped Ted’s leash onto his leather collar and reached for my hand. We sauntered down Hickory Lane with Ted sniffing through the grass and weeds on the side of the road and lifting his leg on every tree we passed.

  I sighed when we passed the sign on April’s lawn. “Guess she’s scared to live alone now.”

  “Can’t blame her,” said Lonnie, “she’s probably having nightmares reliving what happened to her in that trailer.”

  “I’ve heard it takes years to recover from a trauma like she suffered.” I gave myself a shiver.

  We turned right on Pine and approached Sheila’s property. Marg was sitting alone on Sheila’s deck with a drink in her hand and I waved. Marg waved back but she didn’t look happy.

  At the corner of Pine and Maple, Lonnie pulled on Ted’s leash and encouraged him to turn right. He tightened his grip on my hand. “Looks like people on the deck of Gary’s trailer.”

  “Rob wouldn’t sit out where people could see him, would he?” I asked.

  “Not if he had a brain.”

  It was full dark, but there were street lights on poles every hundred feet providing some illumination. A yellow bulb surrounded by a swarm of bugs shone beside Gary’s front door. As we drew closer I could see two people—Gary and Sheila.

  “Hey, come on up for a beer,” Gary hollered.

  “He’s drunk,” Lonnie whispered, then answered Gary, “No thanks. Just walking the dog.”

  “Heard your girlfriend was a looker, hotshot. Bring her up here so I can see her in the light.” “Where did you hear that?” Lonnie asked through clenched teeth.

  “Fuck, can’t remember,” Gary laughed like a hyena. “Guess Sheila told me.”

  “I certainly did not.” Sheila punched him in the arm.

  “Don’t hit me, bitch.” Gary swung at Sheila and took her in the side of the head. She screamed as her chair tipped and she fell in a heap on the deck.

  “You miserable bastard.” Sheila scrambled quickly to her feet, swung her beer bottle and hit Gary square in the face. He stood up, staggered back and grabbed at the railing for support.

  I grabbed Lonnie’s arm. “Come on. You don’t want to get in the middle of that.”

  “Won’t need to,” he said, “here comes the patrol car.”

  The cruiser stopped when he saw activity of a dubious nature at Gary’s trailer and hopped out. He walked up the steps and onto the deck offering Sheila a hand. “What’s the trouble here, folks?” He shone his flashlight first at Sheila’s swelling eye and then on Gary’s bloody face. A fountain of red was pouring from his nose. “I think the two of you have had enough fun for one night. Why don’t you go inside, clean yourselves up and sleep it off?”

  “Good idea,” mumbled Gary. He stomped inside and locked the door leaving Sheila standing on the deck looking bewildered.

  “Need a ride home, ma’am?” the officer asked Sheila.

  “Yes, thanks.” With a hand over her eye she stumbled down the steps. The officer held her elbow and escorted her to the cruiser. He helped her in, closed the passenger door and drove off.

  “That was interesting,” I said to Lonnie.

  “Gary didn’t want the cop to go into the house.”

  “Think that was it?”

  “My impression.” Lonnie took my hand and we continued walking towards the back gate.

  I didn’t notice Arthur Lyons standing in the shadows by his trailer and I almost jumped out of my skin when he spoke. “He’s nothing but a hoodlum,” Arthur said, “Should be locked up or somebody’s going to kill him.”

  Another shiver ran through me and I clutched Lonnie’s hand. “I didn’t see him there,” I whispered. Lonnie slipped a protective arm around my waist and we finished the circuit of the park. After our walk, we relaxed on the deck with a couple of beers.

  “I noticed a metal shed behind Gary’s trailer,” said Lon. “May
be Rob’s bike is in there.”

  “What are you thinking?” I asked. “I don’t want you getting beat up, or worse.”

  “I’ll be careful. I’m going to sleep for a couple of hours, then walk over and take a look.”

  “Do you want me to come with you?”

  “No. I want you to stay here. If I don’t come back inside of an hour, I want you to call McMurtry.”

  Lonnie set the alarm for three and we went to bed. When the buzzer sounded, he shut it down immediately hoping to let me sleep, but I rolled over and held him tight. “Please be careful.”

  “I will. Don’t worry.” Lonnie dressed in black jeans and a black t-shirt, left the bedroom in darkness, and stole out the back door.

  LONNIE AVOIDED THE narrow gravel streets and the sparingly placed street lights of the trailer park and took the long way around. He jogged down the highway, turned onto the sideline that bordered the north side of Paradise and ran in the shadows straight past the back gate. When the bush thickened on the left side of the road he ran through the ditch, plunged into the trees and pulled his flashlight out of his pocket. He stepped on a fallen branch and the cracking sound startled an owl, who in turned scared the hell out of him with a flapping of wings and loud hooting.

  “Shit,” he said under his breath. He slowed down, shone the light around and tried to get his bearings. He wanted to come out of the woods directly behind Gary’s trailer. He had never run through a bush in the pitch dark before and didn’t realize how intimidating it was. Branches reached out and clawed at his arms, leaves and pine needles were constantly slapping him in the face, and mosquitoes feasted hungrily on his exposed skin.

  He shone the light one more time in the direction he thought Gary’s trailer should be and saw the outline of the shed. As he drew closer, the dim light cast down from the pole at the front edge of the property was enough to guide him. He doused the light in his hand, and crept towards the shed on the dark side, farthest from the trailer. He couldn’t risk opening the sliding door of the half-rusted metal shack. The scraping noise of tin on the unused metal track would wake the dead.

  At the back of the building there was one small, cracked window covered in dirt and grime. Lonnie wanted to rub the dirt off to get a good look, but thought better of touching it and used the flashlight instead. He tried to focus on the junk inside. He squinted and peered through the filthy glass, taking stock of the contents—lawnmower, gas can, two broken lawn chairs, flower pots and beer cases and a Snap-On tool chest. That must be worth a buck or two. No Harley.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  BARKLEY’S ATTENTION WAS temporarily diverted from his petunias as he watched Betty head for the small umbrella table in the garden with the local paper tucked under her arm and a mug of hot coffee in her hand. “She’s going to sit there all morning and smoke and that can’t be good for her eighty-six-year-old lungs,” he mumbled to himself. He smiled and gave her a wave as she eased herself with a grunt onto a metal ice cream parlour chair. Barkley shook his head and shuddered as Betty put a fresh cigarette into her ivory holder, lit up and blew the smoke upwards. She spread the paper out on the table and before Barkley could turn his focus back to his petunias, Edgar appeared in his tomato patch with the garden hose.

  Barkley acknowledged Edgar with a wave at the same moment Betty screamed. Edgar ran through the tomato patch that separated his property from Betty’s to see what his crazy neighbor was screaming about and ran headlong into Barkley approaching at top speed from the other direction.

  “What is it, darling?” asked Barkley, his handsome face beet red from exertion.

  Betty clutched her chest and pointed to an article in the paper. She stared at Edgar and whispered, “Murderer.” Her eyes rolled back, she slumped forward and cracked her head on the glass table top with a wallop. The cigarette holder fell from her lifeless lips, releasing the Matinee Light, which in turn singed a hole in the newspaper. Barkley picked up the cigarette in disgust and stubbed it out before the paper caught fire. He then pulled his cell phone from the pocket of his perfectly pressed khakis and pressed 911.

  Oh, my, I should have taken CPR instead of the course on propagating orchids.

  While he concentrated on providing the proper information to the operator, out of the corner of his eye Barkley could see Edgar easing the newspaper out from under Betty’s head.

  “Don’t touch anything, Edgar,” he barked. “That might be important to the police.”

  “Why do we need the police?” Edgar hollered, “The old bag had a heart attack.”

  “Something caused it.” Barkley pointed a finger at Edgar. “She said it was you.”

  “Bullshit,” Edgar yelled, “I dashed over here to help her. Lot of good it did.”

  “Suit yourself,” said Barkley. “I’ll wait here with Betty.” He pulled out the other chair, let out a big sigh and kept Betty’s corpse company, awaiting first response. “Too bad you weren’t wearing something more becoming for your last day, Betty dear, instead of that frightful old frock.”

  Ten minutes and twenty-eight seconds later, screaming sirens blasted through the gates of Paradise and fire truck, ambulance and police cruiser alike parked in Betty’s driveway. The paramedics admitted they were too late to be of any use to Mrs. Farrell and the police took over. The officer spoke into his radio as Barkley looked on with tears brimming in his blue eyes. Shortly after the fire truck departed, Spangler and McMurtry arrived on the scene followed closely by the Medical Examiner.

  “Detective Spangler, lovely to see you again. I wish the circumstances were more pleasant,” said Barkley extending a manicured hand.

  “You too, Mr. Campbell. Could you give me your version of what transpired here?”

  “I would be delighted.” He inhaled as he dabbed his eyes with a tissue.

  Spangler whipped out her recorder and Barkley began. “I was in engaged in the arduous task of dead-heading the petunias in my hanging baskets, something that must be done on a daily basis.” He paused to heave a huge sigh. “Mrs. Farrell emitted a blood curdling scream of such magnitude that my very veins turned to ice.” He sucked in a big breath and continued. “Of course, I immediately tossed my pruners and dashed over here to be of service. When I arrived moments later I found the dear lady pointing to an article in the newspaper with her right hand and grasping her chest with the left. She was trying to draw a decent breath, but in obvious distress.”

  “No one else around?” asked Spangler.

  Barkley pointed towards the Plimpton trailer. “Edgar arrived on the scene at the same moment as I did, coming from his tomato garden.”

  “Mr. Plimpton was here when you arrived?” asked McMurtry.

  “We arrived at precisely the same time, within seconds of each other.”

  Ms. Spangler made a note. “Go ahead, Mr. Campbell.”

  Barkley continued. “Betty only said one word before she died.”

  Spangler raised an eyebrow. “And what was that?”

  “She stared straight at Edgar and called him a murderer.”

  “And then she succumbed?”

  “Yes, her head hit the table with a nasty thump.”

  “Anything else that you noticed?”

  “After Betty died and her head was resting on the newspaper, Edgar tried to pull it out from under her. I told him not to touch anything and he cursed me vilely and returned to his trailer.”

  “And what was in the newspaper that upset her so much?” asked Spangler.

  “I honestly don’t know. Betty’s death rendered me so distressed, I never thought to look.”

  Once the Medical Examiner had done his job and Betty was snugly zipped in a body bag and on her way to the morgue, Spangler scanned the two pages of the open newspaper trying to find which article had upset Betty enough to kill her.

  “Holy Hellfires, partner. Look at this.” Spangler pointed, “A fisherman found five dead Chihuahuas floating on Little Lazy Lake up near Peterborough.”

  “
Guess we better drag that lake,” said McMurtry cursing under his breath.

  “Damn right we should. And we better bring Edgar Plimpton in for another round of questioning,” said Spangler.

  “That too.”

  GARY WOKE WITH a start and stared up at his brother standing over him with a spatula in his hand. “Get up, Gary. I’m fuckin starving and I never cooked anything in my whole life.”

  “Time you learned then, ain’t it.” Gary reached for his smokes on the nightstand and fumbled for his Zippo lighter. He sat on the side of the bed in his shorts, flicked his lighter twice and lit up.

  “Come on bro, make me some eggs.”

  “Fuck off. I’m not awake yet.”

  “Want me to throw cold water on you and speed you up?”

  “Want to get yourself fuckin dead?” Gary growled.

  “As if.” Rob chuckled to himself.

  “For sure,” Gary grumbled as he stumbled to the bathroom. When he made his way to the kitchen he yelled at Rob. “Why don’t you clean this dump up if you’re gonna hide out here. I ain’t no fuckin maid.”

  “Too bad you pissed Marg off. She wasn’t bad at cooking and cleaning up.”

  “Yeah, too fuckin bad. Her time had come.”

  Rob curled his lip. “Now you’ve gone from bad to worse with that ugly, skinny bitch.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. Sheila is a pain in the ass and I can hardly stand the sight of her.” Gary took a package of bacon and the carton of eggs that Earl the egg man had brought out of the fridge and pulled a dirty frying pan out of the sink. He wiped it out with a paper towel and turned on the stove.

  Rob sank onto one of the kitchen chairs. “I’m used to three squares a day in the slam.”

  “Go back there then,” Gary barked.

  “Fuck off. You’re my brother. It’s your job to look out for me.”

  “Nobody ever looked out for me,” Gary snarled.

  “Sheila’s looking out for you now. She posted your fuckin bail.” Rob sipped his coffee.