The Bone Yard and Other Stories

by John Moralee

  I considered waiting, but I decided to use the time for getting rid of the body. Not far from the edge of the town was a deep forest. I drove out into the forest for ten miles. I thought about just ditching the body somewhere off the road, but there was a flashlight in the glove compartment and a spade in the back of the truck. It was far better to bury him. I chose a place behind some trees, not visible from the road. Digging a hole was exhausting, but I didn’t dare rest until it was done. It wasn’t as deep as I would have liked – I would have liked it to be a thousand feet deep – but a shallow grave would have to do. Dragging him a second time was twice as hard. My arms ached like they’d been torn from the sockets. I buried him inside the tarpaulin so it would stop wild animals digging up his bones. I felt sick as I covered him with soil. I tried to make the ground look untouched before leaving.

  I still had to do something about his pickup truck, but I didn’t know what. All I knew was I had to return to the laundry. The weirdo customers had gone when I went in to collect the towels and sheets. The washing powder had done a good job. I could not see any stains. I put the sheets in the dryer and waited for them to be dry before taking them out. I drove back to the motel.

  I made the bed and then messed it up as if two people had had a good time last night. I took a critical look at the room. I could not tell someone had died in the room – there was no blood visible anywhere - which was exactly what I wanted.

  Now I had to just figure out what to do with the pickup truck.

  I thought of driving it somewhere remote and ditching it, but then how would I get back home? Instead, I parked the pickup in the lot of a local bar, where it could stay for days before anyone would notice it. I left it unlocked, with the key in the ignition, praying a thief would find it. I hated leaving it there but I could think of nothing better.

  Walking home, I dumped the baseball cap and jacket in a garbage can. At four in the morning, the streets were spookily quiet. I was the only fool around. I jumped each time I saw headlights, but I avoided being seen by staying on the side streets.

  My house was in a suburban neighbourhood. Lana had parked my car on the drive. I almost wept with relief as I entered my house and closed the door behind me. Then panic set in. I wished I’d done everything differently in a thousand ways, but it was too late now. Any mistakes I’d made could not be erased. What if the police found something? Had I left fingerprints anywhere? The horror of the night caught up with me. I retched violently into the kitchen sink everything I’d eaten yesterday.

  *

  “Miss Gretsky?” someone said.

  I didn’t realise that was my name for a few seconds. Then I jerked back into reality like I’d been slapped awake. One of my ninth grade students was asking the question. I was supposed to be teaching but I’d been staring out of the window thinking about last night.

  “Are you okay, Miss?”

  “I’m fine, Gerry.”

  Gerry and the rest of the class kept staring at me. Something was wrong, but I didn’t know what. Then I noticed the time. The lesson was over but I’d not heard the bell. I was really out of it due to lack of sleep and the memory of what I’d done to help my sister.

  “Okay, class dismissed.” They headed for the door. “Remember the homework.”

  As soon as the classroom was empty, I opened my bag and took out my cell phone. My hands were shaking. I called Lana. She answered immediately. She sounded odd on the phone. Tense. We didn’t mention Ken.

  We agreed to meet after school.

  *

  It was a balmy autumn evening suitable for romantic trysts, not clandestine meetings. Lana and I sat in my car for ten minutes without saying anything. The whole situation did not feel real. My sister nervously smoked cigarette after cigarette despite saying she’d given it up as a New Year’s resolution. She was dressed in a powder blue jacket and skirt, an outfit she wore as a realty agent. She didn’t look different from normal except for her eyes, which looked puffy and bloodshot.

  “Dean was up when I got home,” she said. “He asked where I’d been all night. I said I’d been with you.”

  “Did he say anything else?”

  “No.”

  “Did he seem suspicious?”

  “No.” She lit another cigarette despite having one already between her lips. When she realised what she’d done, she offered me the cigarette. I shook my head. She smoked them with alternate drags. “I’ve been worrying all day about you. How did you get rid of it?”

  It. She was already distancing herself emotionally. I was suddenly mad at her. “You really want to know?”

  She nodded.

  “I buried him in the woods.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “For getting you into this.”

  I sighed. “Forget it. It’s done now.”

  “Susan, what do I say when people realise Ken is missing?”

  “You say nothing. You don’t know anything.”

  “I don’t know anything,” she repeated. She sounded uneasy. “I feel so guilty. I’ve been flustered all day. I lost a sale because I scared a customer by almost breaking into tears when I was showing a house. I feel like I’m about to explode. Maybe I should tell Dean and the police what happened ...”

  “No! It’s too late now, you stupid idiot!”

  Lana looked scared of me. I had shouted. I was angry. She had no idea what I’d done for her. I felt like slapping her.

  “Lana,” I said, trying to calm down. “You can’t change your mind now. I got rid of the stupid body for you. I’m implicated in this as much as you. It’s too late for changing your mind now just because you’re feeling bad. Ken’s dead. It’s just a terrible fact we have to deal with. Remember, he did try to rape you.”

  She nodded slowly. “I know, I know. It’s just so hard not talking about it.”

  “We can talk about it. Anything you have to say, say it to me.”

  We sat there for maybe an hour. Eventually Lana noticed the time was getting late. She wiped her eyes and re-applied her makeup. “I feel a little better having talked to you. I knew you would take care of everything. My big sister. I can’t tell you how grateful I am. Anything you want, just ask. I owe you the biggest favour.”

  We hugged goodbye.

  *

  For the rest of the week, I watched the news and read the newspapers for anything about Ken. There was nothing. I began worrying the police had found him and were keeping it a secret so they could trick me into returning to the grave. I was dying to know if he had been discovered. The temptation of checking the grave was almost unbearable. I got as far as driving my car to the entrance of the forest before turning back. I wanted to know if Ken’s disappearance had been mentioned to the police yet. It must have been, I thought, because he had a family. Lana did not know any more than I did, as she had no legitimate reason for asking Dean about his foreman, so I tried to forget about it, like I’d told Lana. But it was impossible to do it. That long night was the only thing I could think about. I had bad dreams. In one dream Ken was a zombie trying to kill me. I slept with the light on after that. And I started wondering if Ken had actually been dead when I buried him. What if he had been badly wounded but alive? What if I’d buried a living man? No, no – it was crazy. He was dead. Wasn’t he?

  I needed to check the grave.

  But I rationally knew it wasn’t a good idea.

  I fought the urge by going to the local gym. It was the first time I’d been since my ex-boyfriend Joshua gave me a year’s membership as a birthday present. (It was his way of encouraging me to lose a few pounds. We broke up because he was always criticising my body.) I worked out like an adrenaline junkie for three hours every night after school. It helped me resist the temptation. Just.

  On Friday, I had dinner with Lana and her family. I didn’t feel like going, but it was something we did every couple of weeks. It might have aroused suspicion if I did not show up at their home.

&nb
sp; Lana and Dean lived in a beautiful house built by Dean’s company. Everything about it was perfect, like the glossy pages of an interior-decorating magazine. The dining room was more spacious than my entire house.

  During dinner, Dean mentioned Ken.

  “Here’s something weird,” he said. “He’s disappeared like something out of the Twilight Zone.”

  “Really?” I said. “What do you mean?”

  “Nobody’s seen him since Tuesday. He didn’t come in on Wednesday. I thought he was sick or something, but I phoned his house and nobody’s seen him. His wife Grace contacted the police. They found his car parked at a bar with the keys still in it, but no sign of him.”

  “That’s strange,” I said. I looked at Lana. Here eyes were bugging.

  “It’s a real pain. Ken’s a good foreman. I can’t understand where he’s gone.”

  “What do the police think?”

  “I don’t know. They seemed as baffled as everyone else.”

  Let’s hope it stays that way, I thought, but I had a bad feeling it would not.

  *

  Another week went by. I taught my classes just like normal. Pretended everything was okay. Mid-week a story appeared in the local paper about Ken. It was entitled “Missing Man Mystery.” According to the story, the police had not learnt anything new. However, the story featured a photograph of Ken with his wife and daughters. It had been taken on vacation last year in Florida. They looked so happy it made me want to confess all.

  That Friday morning I found a white envelope in my mailbox with just my name on it, no address. It had not been stamped like the rest of my mail, which was mostly junk and bills. It looked like it had been typed on an old typewriter with a fading ribbon. I had a bad feeling about it even before I opened it and read the single sheet of paper inside, also typed. I stared at it, the words searing my brain.

  I had to see Lana straight away.

  She was in her office on the phone to a client when I came in. The expression on my face told her enough. I closed the door and slumped in a chair, holding the envelope. She quickly ended the call.

  “What’s wrong?” she wanted to know.

  “Did you get any strange letters?”

  “No – why?”

  “I got this in my mail.” I handed the sheet across her desk. She read it silently, mouthing the words. I knew the contents by heart already, having read it a dozen times.

  We know what you and your sister did. We saw it all.

  Bring $1000 to Century Park on Saturday at 18:00.

  Wait on the bench by the lake.

  Pay or pray – it’s up to you.

  The Watchers.

  “Oh, God, no,” she said. “We’re being blackmailed. Who do you think it is? How could they have seen it all?”

  “I don’t know,” I said.

  “Could it be the police, trying to trick us?”

  “Maybe,” I answered. “If it is, there’s nothing we can do about it, though. I think we have to assume it’s not the police, but a genuine blackmailer.”

  “I don’t get it. Why did they contact you, not me?”

  “They must have found out I live alone – so they sent the blackmail note to me to ensure the wrong person didn’t read it first. It’s the smart thing to do. Also, the amount they want is not outrageous, so they know we can afford to pay it. Of course, the thousand won’t be the only money they want. It will just be a first instalment. They’ll want more. A lot more. They’ll probably want regular payments to keep quiet. That’s how blackmailers work.”

  “You seem to know a lot about blackmailers.” She made it sound like an accusation.

  “I’ve read a lot of crime novels.”

  “What should we do?”

  I thought about it. We were powerless unless we could find out the identity of the blackmailer. I thought of a plan, but it would have to be carefully executed. There were so many things that could go wrong I dared not even think of them. “I’ll go alone to the rendezvous. Meet the blackmailer. We might need to make the first payment. Can you get the money?”

  “Yes, but I can’t afford to pay forever, Susan.”

  *

  I sat down on the bench at five minutes before six. An old man was reading John Grisham. He looked up at me. I stared back. I wondered if he was the blackmailer, but he got up and walked off after thirty seconds. I probably scared him with my stare. I looked around as I waited.

  It was a warm evening with plenty of time remaining before the sun went down, though the shadows were long. The lake looked golden in the sunlight. There were several people walking or jogging by on the path circling the lake. There were some kids playing baseball. The blackmailer had chosen a discreet but also populated place. There were several exits via paths into the woods. I watched everyone as they approached the bench, half expecting them to stop, but they did not. I kept looking at my watch. It was after six. The blackmailer was late. That was to be expected. The blackmailer would want to keep control of the situation.

  A jogger was coming around the lake. He was wearing a grey jogging top with a hood covering most of his face. He was white, in his twenties, but I could not see much more because sunglasses hid his eyes. He had long greasy black hair and acne scars. He sat down next to me and looked around nervously.

  “Where’s your sister?”

  “She couldn’t make it. Who are you?”

  “Shut up. Don’t ask me questions. I’m here for the G. Do you have it or what?”

  “Are you a cop?” I asked.

  “No,” he said. “Do I look like a lousy cop?”

  “I had to ask,” I said. “You wrote me a blackmail note, but why should I give you money?”

  “Why? Because I’ve got evidence that’d put you in jail. That’s why.”

  “Evidence? What evidence?”

  “Don’t play games,” he said. “I’ve got a tape. It’s real interesting.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Yeah, right. I suppose you was nowhere near the Two Hearts Motel last Tuesday? I suppose your sister didn’t kill Ken, the guy the police are looking for? You didn’t help her get rid of the body? It’s all on VHS, baby.”

  “I want to see this so-called tape before I give you money.”

  “No way. All you’ve got to know is the tape could put you both away for a real long time. I’ve made plenty of copies of it so don’t even think about trying to mess with me. Anything happens to me, my lawyer’s been instructed to open a safe-deposit box with the original in it. If you don’t want the cops getting a copy, you’ll give me the money right now.”

  “Okay, okay.” I reached into my handbag, taking out a paper bag. “Here.”

  Looking around agitatedly, he grabbed the paper bag and counted the money inside. He looked pleased with the total. “This is the way it is, lady. I want another G next month. I’ll contact you on the Friday where to drop it off. You show up with the money or the tape puts you in jail.” He grinned coldly. “I’m going now. Don’t try to follow me. My associates will be watching.”

  He sprinted away, looking back a few times to assure himself I had not moved. I waited until he had disappeared before standing up. I hoped Lana had been able to track him through the binoculars. I returned to my car before switching on my cell phone and calling her. She answered immediately. She was breathless.

  “I’m following him,” she said. “He’s leaving the park via the south entrance. He’s still on foot. I’ll call you when I know more.”

  *

  I met Lana in a café an hour later.

  “Well?” I asked. “Did you find out where he lives?”

  “No. I lost him,” she said. “He jumped on a bus. I’m sorry. I tried to follow him.”

  I swore. I had been hoping she would have been able to follow him home so we would know his identity. “Don’t worry. There’s always next month. We can try again. Anyway, I recorded the meeting. You want to hear what he said?”

/>   Lana nodded. I opened my bag and took out the tape I’d made of the conversation. She listened to it on headphones.

  “He has a tape – but how?”

  “I don’t know, but at least we now know what he has against us. If only we had the tape, the blackmailer would have nothing. Then it would be just his word against ours.”

  *

  That night I lay awake, thinking. I could not sleep. I got up and went for a drive. I ended up parking not far from the Two Hearts Motel. I walked there. I could see into the brightly-lit office from across the street. There was a young man behind the counter with long black hair. It was hard to tell from a distance, but it looked like he had marks on his face.

  “The night manager,” Lana said when I told her. “Are you sure?”

  “Fairly,” I said. “I would have to see him up close to be sure, but I’m eighty percent positive. He must’ve remembered seeing you with Ken. He probably saw my car arrive later. That’s how he figured out who we are.”

  “So, what do we do now?”

  “I’m going to spend the day finding out his name and where he lives. Tonight I’ll break into his place while he’s working and search for the tape – if it exists. He could be lying. But I need to know what evidence he really does have. His power over us is the fear of what evidence he’s got.”

  “That sounds risky,” Lana said. “I don’t want to break into his home. I’m not doing that, Susan. I’m not doing it!”

  “I’ll do it by myself,” I said. “It’s probably better if you don’t get involved, anyway. I know how to pick a cheap lock – I read about it in a book. I’ll be very careful.”