Kentucky Murders: A Small Town Murder Mystery

by Larry Parrott

  Then, last year, Tommy started coming around again to see her. They had started dating again. In the last six months, it had gotten pretty steady. But, this time, things had been different. Tommy wasn’t the football hero, and she wasn’t the cheerleader anymore. Tommy had seemed a little bored and somewhat depressed. In high school, he was full of hope for the future, but his recent failures seemed to deflate that vigor he once had. They began arguing more often. Sometimes he’d throw things when he was mad. Once, he punched a hole in a wall. But he’d never hit her. Not until the other night.

  That was it. There was no way she would let him abuse her physically. She now realized he’d been emotionally abusive all along. It was over.

  Maybe that’s why she was imagining romance with a stranger. She was hungry for a caring, gentle man. Zack was cute and seemed nice. Nice was nice for a change. She smiled. “Romance? I wonder what that would feel like?” she said to a squirrel that was perched on the branch of a tree, its beady, little eyes staring down at her. Snuffing out her cigarette in a nearby sand-filled can, she stood up and went back to work.

  Chapter 12

  Zack pulled into the parking lot that stretched across the front and around the left side of the A&M Box Factory. He estimated there were about thirty other cars in the lot. He found a space up front marked “Visitor” and parked.

  Branching out from the side of the two-level factory was a one-story section, which Zack figured was probably the company offices. He went through the double, tinted glass doors, which led into a reception area. Off to the side behind a counter, sat a pleasant-faced middle-aged woman, her hands flying across the keys of an old-fashioned typewriter on a small desk, her dark hair formed mostly into a ball on top of her head. She stopped typing when she noticed Zack.

  “May I help you?” she asked, adding a smile.

  “I hope so,” he said, walking up to her. “I saw your ad in the town paper for the forklift driver. If it’s still available, I’d like to apply.”

  “It sure is, sweetie,” she said, opening her desk drawer, removing a multi-page form and handing it to Zack. “Fill out this application, and I’ll tell the foreman you’re here.”

  Zack took the application and gave her a confused look. “Where?”

  She pointed. “You’ll find a pen over there at the table.”

  Ten minutes later, he walked back up to her desk and handed her the application. “Here you go. I’m done.”

  “That was quick.” She looked through the form. “And you’re one of the few who got it right the first time. Except we need an address and phone number.”

  “Well, I’m new in town, and I need the job before I find a place to stay.”

  She looked at him slightly puzzled. “Okay. If you’re hired, you can give me that information later. Take a seat, and Frank will be with you in a little while.”

  Zack patiently waited almost a half hour without really minding. He sat back, relaxed, enjoyed the air-conditioning, and browsed through several magazines without seeing the words or pictures. Instead, his thoughts drifted back to Kate.

  Finally, a husky man in his mid-fifties with the top of his bald head rimmed with gray hair, took Zack to a second-floor office with a window that looked out over the factory. “Take a seat,” he said. “I’m Frank, the foreman. You know, you’re really lucky. We don’t usually get too many job openings around here. There isn’t much turnover, since everyone is local. I had three boys quit last week and join the Marines. I did a tour in the Marine Corps in Korea. It was cold as hell.”

  Zack sat near the window, and Frank settled himself in a worn leather chair behind his scarred, metal desk. He looked over Zack’s application for a minute before speaking. “You worked there four and a half years, huh? Cars just aren’t sellin’ like they used to.”

  “Those were the exact words they used when they laid me off.”

  “Well,” he looked back at the application, “have you ever driven a forklift?” He planted his elbows on the arms of his chair and folded his hands together in front of his belly.

  “I sure have. Many times. I could demonstrate if you’d like.”

  “That won’t be necessary. We have a standard test for new forklift drivers. You shouldn’t have a problem with it. If you get this job, you’ll be living here in town, I suppose,” he said as a statement, but waited for Zack’s acknowledgment.

  “Yes, I would. But if I can’t find a job here, I’ll have to move on and keep looking.”

  “You know, I admire you,” said Frank. “You read all about these unemployed autoworkers who sit on their butts collecting unemployment. Then there are guys like you who take off, leaving everything behind, and go after a job. That’s good. I like that. You look right for the job to me. When can you start?” He stood and stretched out his hand.

  “I can start any time. I just need to find a place to stay.”

  “Welcome aboard,” Frank offered his hand and smiled.

  “Glad to be here,” Zack said, as they shook hands.

  “This afternoon you’ll get a tour of the factory, fill out some additional paperwork, and take the forklift test. Then, if you’re ready, you can start in the morning. If you need a little more time give me a call, but we need you ASAP.”

  They walked downstairs to the back of the factory, where he showed Zack the loading docks and warehouse areas. He explained that it was another driver’s job to unload the trucks and stack the corrugated cardboard in the warehouse. Zack’s job would be to deliver sheets that had been cut and scored to the machines in other departments of the factory.

  “This will be your main delivery,” explained Frank, as they entered a noisy room. “This,” he pointed proudly to one of the long machines, “is a printer/slotter. It cuts the final slots that will form the box and also prints whatever the customer has ordered on the board.”

  Several different sounds came from the machine. A man fed cardboard onto a rubber tongue, and metal kickers pushed it into the machine. A whizzing sound came from inside, then a cha-chunk as the board was printed, and, finally, a noisy chopping sound came as the final piece shot out from the other end. It was the loudest machine they had come across so far. “After it’s complete, they load the board onto handcarts and take it into there.” He pointed to an archway leading to another department. “That’s where the boxes are taped, glued, or stitched, folded, and stacked on pallets ready to ship.”

  Zack also discovered that his job included taking large scraps form the various machines up the elevator to the second floor, where they would be used for making partitions to be placed inside certain kinds of boxes.

  On their way past one of the printer/slotters, they saw a forty-something, heavyset man dressed in a blue uniform, stooping over and sweeping up dust at the end of a machine. “That’s Max. He’s the janitor around here.” He leaned over to Zack as if Max could hear him over the noisy machinery. He said through a cupped hand into Zack’s ear, “He’s mentally handicapped, but is one hell of a hard worker; he’s just a little slow to understand.”

  Zack nodded just as Max looked up at him. Zack called out loudly, “Hello, there.”

  Max didn’t return his smile, but his mouth moved in what Zack took to be hi. Max immediately went back to his work.

  Frank slapped Zack on the back, saying, “That’s enough for today. Zack, unless you call to let me know you can’t, I need you to try to be here at seven sharp to punch in. You can learn the rest as you go along.”

  After shaking his hand again, Zack left for the front office to complete the other paperwork and take the written forklift test, a basic test that could probably be passed without any forklift experience at all. It contained mostly safety questions, which probably meant they would keep it in his file to cover the factory in case he had an accident. He’d found out that the job paid about half of what he had made back in Detroit, but the cost of living seemed to be much lower in Michaeltown. He remembered the quarter parking meter and the prices at t
he diner.

  He drove toward town in search of the hotel Frank had recommended. According to Frank, the owner kept one room upstairs that had been converted into a bachelor-type studio apartment for the occasional long-term tenant. The bedroom/ living room with kitchenette and private bath arrangement would suit Zack fine until he found something more permanent.

  Frank seemed nice enough. That comment he’d made about the laid-off autoworkers seemed a little narrow-minded, but he didn’t know any better. Sure Zack had taken to the road in search of a job, and, sure, some men took advantage of the system, but there were thousands of others with hungry kids to feed. They would have a hard time picking up and moving, even though some of them had done just that. Most of them couldn’t afford to take some lower-paying job while they waited to be recalled. He’d seen friends lose cars, houses, furniture, and everything else they owned because they just couldn’t make the payments. No, Frank’s neat little theory wasn’t quite right, but Zack wasn’t about to sit him down and explain his error. No, he’d made a good impression and had gotten the job. That’s all that mattered.

  As he reentered town, he remembered Kate’s words “if you get the job, we’ll have time to get to know each other better.” He smiled and turned in at the hotel.

  Chapter 13

  On the following Wednesday, Zack tried again to interest Kate in dinner. “How about going out with me this weekend?”

  Kate looked up from behind the counter at Zack, who was sitting in the same place as on the day they met, almost a week before. “You’ve eaten here, what, four times? If you add up all the short conversations we’ve had, that’s maybe a couple hours, and now you think I know you well enough to go out with you?” she said doubtfully, while taking a thoughtful puff on her cigarette. “For all I know, you’re a serial killer.” She smiled.

  “I’ve eaten here five times,” he gently reminded her, smiling and crossing the first two fingers on each hand for good luck so that she would see. “And I wouldn’t kill a fly. Please?”

  She looked at him carefully, trying to judge if he was trustworthy and sincere. “You sure are persistent, and it hurts me to see you beg,” she said, turning to deliver a tray of double cheeseburgers and shakes to a booth full of teenagers. She kept glancing back at Zack from across the diner, and he winked back each time. She returned a minute later. “Oh,” she said with a sigh. “Okay, I’ll go out with you.”

  “You’ll be glad you agreed, Kate. You’ll enjoy this date more than you think … I promise.”

  “Wait a minute. This is just our first date. Let’s take it nice and slow.” She pulled a menu from a metal rack and handed it to a teenage boy seated on a stool farther down the counter. She served him a glass of ice water before returning to Zack.

  Kate didn’t seem to be used to fast-paced life like Detroit, where he had grown up. Zack figured he shouldn’t try to push her too fast, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. He’d never begged a girl for a date until meeting Kate, but with her it didn’t matter. He knew that he would do just about anything

  “What were you daydreaming about?” she asked. Leaning across the counter in front of him, she said, “I’ve been standing here for half a minute and you didn’t even see me.”

  “Sorry,” he said. “Sometimes I drift off into my own world. As a kid in school, it got me into trouble more than once. Next time, just poke me.”

  She laughed quietly.

  “I was just thinking of our date,” he said, which wasn’t exactly the truth. “I want to take you out of town for a few hours. See something new for a change. How about joining me for a candlelit dinner at a nice restaurant in Cincinnati?”

  Her mouth and eyes opened wide. “Cincinnati? That is a forty-five minute drive. You want to go there just to take me out for dinner?”

  “We could add a show.”

  “You’re going to have to give me a minute.” She shook her head while she thought about it, moving back down the counter to take the teenager’s order.

  A few minutes later, back in front of him, she said, “This is a small town, Zack.” She spoke slowly, explaining tactfully. “We don’t usually make forty-five minute drives just for dinner.”

  “Kate,” he said in a soft tone that imitated hers. “Where I’m from, it takes more than forty-five minutes to drive to work, and that’s in bumper-to-bumper traffic. So, what do you say to Friday night?” He took a sip of his coffee, almost burning himself on the hot liquid while nervously keeping his eyes on her, waiting for her answer.

  Her head tilted slightly to the side as she considered his proposal. “I don’t know why,” she said, “but I can’t seem to say no to you.”

  Zack grinned and pumped a triumphant fist in the air. “Yes!”

  “Is it okay if you pick me up at seven o’clock?” Kate asked.

  “Sure, it’s a date!”

  ---

  By Friday morning, Zack had his work route down fairly well. He located orders in the warehouse that the other driver had stacked and tagged, and delivered them to the printer/slotter or to other machines. He quickly learned how fast the machines consumed the stacks of corrugated cardboard, and he judged when to bring in the next load.

  He looked forward to his first paycheck that afternoon. His small, personal stash was almost gone. At least his rent was paid until the end of July. He wouldn’t have to pay again until next payday.

  That same day he sat eating lunch with Max in the break room. Zack looked over at the smiling, lumbering hulk of a man sitting across from him. It didn’t surprise him that they’d become friends in the short time they’d worked together. They were both outsiders in Michaeltown, and they naturally bonded instantly. Sure, Max had lived there all his life, but he had never fit in. People either ignored Max because he was different and maybe a bit frightening, or they made fun of him.

  He looked at Max sitting across from him. “Well, how is work going today?” asked Zack.

  After a several second pause, the answer came: “Max doing good.” He spoke, hesitantly and bluntly as usual, without looking at Zack.

  “You know, I think I like this place more every day.” Zack bit into his salami sandwich. His great mood was influenced by Kate’s decision to go out with him. “And you know what?” He reached over and slapped Max playfully on the shoulder. “I have my first date with Kate tonight. What do you think of that, old buddy?”

  Max looked up from his Hostess cherry pie. “Kate pretty. Nice, too.” This time, he looked at Zack as he spoke, and he gave him a small, timid smile.

  “Oh, I see. You do get around after all. Don’t you?” Max’s face turned red. “You watch yourself. Kate’s my territory now.” Zack smiled and held out his hand.

  Max slowly grabbed his hand and they shook their agreement. He tilted his head and giggled.

  Suddenly, Max’s smile faded, and his gaze dropped back down to his pie.

  “What’s?” Zack didn’t finish the question, but turned to see who’d just come into the room.

  A scruffy group of men had entered. Zack leaned over to Max and whispered softly, “What’s wrong? Who are they?” Max didn’t look up.

  “Well, looky here,” came a man’s malicious voice from behind Zack. The rest of the room instantly fell silent, but Zack didn’t turn around. “The dummy has found a playmate. Why don’t you introduce us to your new playmate, Maxie, baby?”

  Max kept quiet, with his eyes and head lowered submissively and his shoulders rounded. Zack turned slowly in his chair to face the speaker. He’d seen this guy around the factory, along with his pack of filthy, angry followers, who were now standing behind him at his heels like a pack of dogs. “Can I help you?” asked Zack mildly.

  “You sure as hell can.” The others laughed on cue at his mocking tone of voice. “We want to know all about the new boy in town. We’ve seen you around the past week, but now that you and Max have joined up, we’re taking bets on whether or not you’re a retard, too.” The room broke out in l
aughter.

  He waited until the noise quieted before he spoke. “My name is Zack Taylor,” he said simply. He knew when to stay out of a fight, and, after adding up the numbers, this was one of those times.

  “Zack? That sure is a perdy name. Well, Zack, I’m Tommy Ray.” He pointed at Zack. “Around here, what I say goes. Do you understand me?”

  “Whatever you say,” said Zack. He paused, gave a mock salute, and then added, “Sir.” Smiling, he stood up. “Come on, Max. It’s time to go back to work.”

  Chapter 14

  Promptly at 6:55, Zack arrived at Kate’s house, parked along the curb, and walked up to the old, wooden garden gate. He paused and glanced at the neat rows of flowers and shrubs along the white picket fence, which needed a fresh coat of paint. Zack thought of Mrs. Wilson. She would know exactly what shrubs and flowers these were. To Zack, they were just pretty flowers. If they’d been something easy like daisies or roses, he might have recognized them.

  The day had been overcast, not giving the sun a chance to break through and heat things up, so now the evening was little cooler than normal and more comfortable. Zack saw some gray clouds in the west, but he didn’t think that it would rain unless heavier, darker clouds rolled in. That would be all he needed. He didn’t want rain to spoil their first date.

  He opened the latch and went through the gate, walked up the flower-lined path, and rang the doorbell. “Just a minute,” came a woman’s pleasant voice from inside. It didn’t sound like Kate’s; maybe it was her mother’s voice. “I’m coming,” she called, as she hurried toward the door.

  An attractive woman stepped up to the door. She patted her salt and pepper hair with one hand and pushed open the screen door with the other. “You must be Zack. Come in, please.”