The Burgenton Files

by C. Ruth Daly

  The blue roses of the wallpaper climbed above her. “Hi, Anna. How was your night?” I asked looking for someone to talk to.

  “It was okay. I babysat tonight.” Anna was engrossed in her magazine and didn’t seem to want to say more.

  “Okay. I’m going to bed.” I said as I slipped into my pajamas. Looking around the room, I thought again of LBJ moving to Arkansas, the dinner at the steak house, and running into Ned Hollis again. I was beginning to feel as if there was no escaping Ned Hollis. I sighed and climbed into bed and stared at the pale blue roses on the wall. Anna in bed beside me continued to read. I closed my eyes and snuggled under the covers, glad to be in the safety of my big blue room.

  FIFTEEN

  Every morning Mom listened to the Mid-North Indiana News Report on the radio. There had been many mornings when Mom had yelled upstairs to report a tragedy such as when Martin Luther King was assassinated and then Bobby Kennedy. The alert usually began with, “Oh my Lord All Mighty!” This was another one of those mornings but not with national implications. Mom yelled upstairs to wake us and for us to share in her disbelief.

  “Oh my Lord!” Mom began. She had left out the All Mighty part, which led me to believe it was either a state or county catastrophe.

  I rolled over in bed and Anna beside me, rubbed her eyes, sat up and then fell straight back on the bed, again sound asleep.

  “What is it, Mom?” I ran to the top of the stairs.

  “My Lord! There was a murder in Hamilton City! Just like the one here. The girl was strangled and left in a ditch out by the river.” Mom clicked her tongue and left the bottom of the stairs. She continued to talk to herself.

  I was completely awake by now and Irish was too. Anna remained deep in slumber with her mouth wide open and one unraveling curler across her face.

  Irish met me at the top of the stairs. We shared a knowing look and then I ran down the stairs with Irish right behind me.

  “Mom, who was it? Do they know who did it and why?” I was scared. I had a feeling I knew who did it, but I thought maybe my imagination was getting the best of me. Ned Hollis had been in Hamilton last night, but then he was with an older woman. She was hardly a college student. Thoughts raced through my mind.

  “No. They don’t have no suspect yet. I tell you. What is this world coming to? Why would anyone want to just murder a poor young girl? Why, it’s just like poor Linda Miles, but Brian Reynolds is in jail. Who knows if he really did do it then?” Mom was sorting things out and thinking aloud. “I just don’t know. I wonder if Mrs. Randall has heard any more.”

  Irish sat down at the kitchen table. She hadn’t said a word until now. “I think I’ll call Gil and see if he’s heard anything.”

  She went to the phone and dialed. Irish waited while I could hear the Rolf’s phone ringing through the receiver held tightly to her ear.

  “Hello?” Irish spoke into the mouthpiece. “Yes, it’s me, Stewart.” Irish looked at me and rolled her eyes. I couldn’t help but laugh. He irritated her too.

  “Stewart. I need to talk to Gil.” Irish was firm.

  There was a pause and then she said, “Please have him call me when he gets back.” Then she said, “No. No. You don’t need to write down my number. No forget it. No. Gil knows my number. No. Don’t look for a pen. Yes. That’s right. Okay, bye Stewart.”

  “What an idiot.” Then Irish turned to go back upstairs.

  I thought of Rita Brennan and wondered what she was doing. I missed her and I wished she were still here so I could talk to her about this. Maybe LBJ was awake and I could call her.

  Like a message from the beyond, the phone rang.

  “Hello?” I said into the receiver.

  “Donna. It’s me.” LBJ’s voice rang desperately through the phone.

  “LBJ did you hear?

  “Yeah, I heard. If you’re talking about the murder. Do you know who she was?” There was terror in LBJ’s voice.

  “No. Do you?” I had a suspicion that this had something to do with Ned Hollis.

  “You know the lady at the restaurant last night? You know. The one with Ned Hollis? Be right there, Sugar!” LBJ made her voice into a high falsetto.

  “Yeah. Was it her?” I asked.

  “No. Not her.” LBJ sounded frustrated. Then she whispered. “It was her daughter.”

  “What? Her daughter...you don’t think, do you?” I was afraid to even mention what I was thinking for fear that anyone in Burgenton might be listening even though the phone wasn’t on a party line. I was beginning to feel paranoid. Maybe Ned Hollis was somehow getting to me and controlling my feelings just like he had gotten a hold of Glynda and her grandma. The Twilight Zone feeling was back.

  “Are you still there Donna?”

  “Yeah. Sorry LBJ. So what else have you heard?” I snapped out of my stupor and regained control of my senses.

  “Mom has talked to some of her friends who’ve waitressed with her and they say that the woman, you know, the one with Ned Hollis? Well she said Hollis was with her all night. And her daughter lived in an apartment near the campus. Hollis didn’t even know about the daughter. The woman is really shaken up. I guess she was her only child.” LBJ went on. “Mom says the police don’t know who did it, but they’re thinking it was the daughter’s boyfriend. That’s all I know, Donna.” Then LBJ let out a big sigh. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

  “Yeah. I am. I’m going to get dressed and see if Glynda wants to go on a walk around the neighborhood. I’ll see you at school on Monday. If I hear anything sooner, I’ll call.”

  “I will too. See you Monday, Donna.”

  “Bye, LBJ.”

  After grabbing a bowl of cereal and wolfing it down. I ran back upstairs to get dressed. Irish was sitting in bed, her knees beneath the covers, were pulled up to her chin.

  “Are you okay, Irish?”

  “I’m okay, Donna. I’m just thinking about New Year’s Eve and how much my life has changed since then. I just want Gil to call.” Irish spoke quietly. She seemed even more distant these days.

  “Yeah. Do you think Gil knows anymore than anyone else?” I wanted to distract her from her introspection, and I also needed information about the murder.

  “I doubt it.” It was all Irish could come up with.

  “Well, all right then. I’m going to see if Glynda Myer wants to play or something. Would you tell Mom I’m headed to the Myer’s house?” I grabbed my light blue nylon jacket and ran down the stairs and out of the house.

  Mom was at Mrs. Randall’s backdoor talking through the screen. Her hands were on her hips and her mouth looked like it was going a mile a minute. I wondered what she’s finding out, but knew she would tell me later.

  On my run over to the Myers, I once again passed Mr. Robert’s house where his baby boy’s cry came loudly through the open windows. I hurried past Mrs. Cruz’s house and the armory, to the Myer home where the boys were digging up the grass with their bike tires. Rodney was standing in a pile of mud that covered his bare feet. He had a sucker in his hand and bits of dirt and grass were on his chin where gooey spit had slipped out of his mouth.

  “Gwinda in da kitchen.” Rodney reported as I zipped past him and into the house.

  “Hello!” I alerted as I made my way through the living room and back to the kitchen.

  Glynda and Mrs. Myer were at the sink peeling potatoes. From the back they almost passed for twins except from the front, the age difference was apparent. A metal bowl with potato skins sat on the counter beside an even bigger metal bowl with the peeled potatoes.

  “Hi Donna. We’re making potato salad for the church bizarre tomorrow.” Glynda said while feverishly peeling potatoes. Mrs. Myer turned to me and smiled.

  “Oh. I was wondering if you wanted to go for a walk.” I tried to hide the anxiousness in my voice.

  “Sure, I’m almost done here.” Glynda pushed the bangs from her eyes and peeled even faster finishing the last of the potatoes in minutes.
/>   Mrs. Myer said she would clean up and do the rest while Glynda went with me to get some exercise. Glynda grabbed her sweater and a green plastic glass filled with ice water from the refrigerator and we headed out the backdoor of the kitchen to the alley that lay between her house and the armory.

  I waited to talk to her until we were past the front of her house where her older brothers had just made another bare patch in the lawn. The grass barely had time to develop growth before another Myer boy destroyed it with some kind of reckless mayhem. Glynda looked over her shoulder at them and sighed.

  “When I grow up, I’m going to have a nice house with a big grassy yard and I’m not about to let my brothers come over. And if they have boys, they can’t come over at all.” Glynda spoke with contempt.

  I did feel bad for her. She never could have anything nice because her brothers destroyed everything. Mr. Myer was rarely around since he was a long distance trucker and was only home for a few days out of the month. He had lost his job at a factory in Kokomo a few years back and had to take the trucking job to keep the family afloat. Mrs. Myer had always let her husband discipline the boys. When she did try, the older ones ignored her and Rodney pouted and sulked, making Mrs. Myer feel so bad she would cuddle him against her while Rodney glowed with a triumphant smirk. Sometimes their Grandma Becker would lay the law down with them and the boys would straighten up for awhile, but Grandma Becker kept busy with social activities at the Presbyterian Church and didn’t have time to keep after her grandsons. We were quiet until we were by the armory where I broke the news about last night’s escapades and the recent murder in Hamilton City.

  “Gosh, Donna. That’s weird. Ned Hollis was in Hamilton City right where you and LBJ were. I think you just need to stay away from him. He’s scary and I don’t like him. Neither does Grandma but everybody else in town loves him.” Glynda emphasized the love part and rolled her eyes. “Mom said she heard Mr. Hollis will be running for mayor in November. Mayor Willis is quitting because he’s just done it too long.” Glynda sighed.

  We walked along toward the uptown and the town square. After about two blocks I broke the silence.

  “Glynda, you know, a… um...while back Mr. Hollis well, he kinda cornered me and tried to scare me. It was right before Miss Brennan moved. Um...do you—you know, did he say or do anything to you? I was just wondering. That’s all.” I tried to act as if it were no big deal Ned Hollis had threatened me. I had only told Gil. I was too afraid to tell my mom, dad, or anyone else, but I had to know why Glynda was being so elusive.

  We walked another half-block and were by the Baptist Church when Glynda turned to me and nodded her head. After another half-block we were close to the start of town and Glynda started to ramble. Her words came fast and she was almost incoherent.

  When she was done, she breathed a huge sigh of relief. By the time Glynda was finished, we had walked the block to the Shoe Hospital. It was a tale similar to mine, where Ned Hollis came by her grandma’s house, told Mrs. Becker he was a powerful man and for her to stay out of his business. Hollis went on about the fact that Rita Brennan was a drunken tart from out-of-town and he was from Burgenton, after all, his mother was from a powerful Gardenville family. He told Grandma Becker she had better not even give one kind word to Rita Brennan and that me, her granddaughter, had better stay clear of his house and his life. Grandma Becker had threatened to call the police on him if he didn’t get out of her house and Ned Hollis just laughed at her and walked out the front door.

  I didn’t tell Glynda what Gil Rolf had told me about the police being crooked. We just walked on in silence until we reached the drugstore where we went in to buy candy. Glynda and I made our way to the back of the store to the card and magazine racks where we took some time to look at the latest news in Teen Times. There were a couple of the usual men at the table sipping coffee and chewing the fat.

  “Well I declare we best be gittin’ some rain here soon.” One of the men said as he stretched out his long legs from beneath his dirty coveralls.

  “Yes, yes.” I heard another man say, and then there was a long silence.

  Glynda and I continued to look through the magazines. I put one back and reached for the Farmer’s Almanac when I heard the pharmacy phone ring. There was a muffled voice from behind the pharmacy counter. It was Mr. Smith, the pharmacist answering. I was able to hear the name of the person on the other end of the line. “Yes, Mr. Hollis. Yes, I’ll have that ready for you.”

  The man in the coveralls said, “Norm, was that Ned Hollis on the phone?” Norm Smith answered it was and then the coverall man asked, “Ain’t he the one who wants to replace old Mayor Willis? I hope he ain’t sick or something ‘cause we can’t afford to have no mayor who’s sick or something.” The coverall man clicked his tongue and took another sip of coffee.

  “Now Ellis, I can’t tell you anything and you know it. I don’t want you starting rumors around, because I’m telling you now that I haven’t told you anything about Mr. Hollis.” Mr. Smith looked over the top of his glasses at the coverall man. Ellis pulled his legs back up into his coveralls and planted his feet firmly under the little round table. “I just don’t want an unhealthy man leading Burgenton. That’s all.” He said as he crossed his arms and pouted. The man across from him picked up the newspaper and opened it wide to block the view of Ellis and his pout.

  I nudged Glynda so she could get a look at the sight of the men. “Looks like some of those seventh grade boys, doesn’t it Glynda?” I smiled at her.

  Mr. Smith cleared his throat and he looked in our direction. “Do you girls need help Donna? How’s your grandma, Glynda?” Mr. Smith wasn’t smiling and I knew he wasn’t happy with us. So the two of us mumbled a mix of “no” and “fine”, stuck the magazines back in the holders on the rack and quickly moved to the front of the store to pick out our candy.

  Outside the drugstore I looked around at Burgenton in the spring. The air smelled nice and fresh and the sky was clear of its winter gray. Glynda and I walked along contentedly munching our chocolate. We were by the corner to turn toward home when I glanced across the street. The vacancy on the corner which had long been dark and dormant was now bustling with activity. There were a few men moving about the room moving desks and chairs. I saw Officer Moore hanging a huge banner in the window and I told Glynda to stop for a minute. As another one of the men reached to pick up one corner of the banner, Glynda and I were able to make out what it said: “Ned Hollis for a Better Burgenton.”

  That was it. It was for sure. Ned Hollis was running for mayor of Burgenton and Officer Moore was aiding him. With a feeling of panic, I stared at Glynda. She was afraid too. We ripped around the corner and ran past the Shoe Hospital and down Livingston Street to the safety of our homes. I knew I would have to tell Gil Rolf about this if he didn’t already know.

  Mom was sitting in a lawn chair on the front porch when we reached my house.

  “Mom, how’s Mrs. Randall? Did she hear anything else about the murder in Hamilton City? LBJ’s mom knows the mother of the girl who was murdered.” I didn’t give Mom time to answer my first question.

  “Hold on, Donna.” Mom sounded irritated with me. “Mrs. Randall only knew as much as what we heard on the news.” She went back to the shirt she was mending and hummed quietly for a moment. “You say Lori Bell’s mother knows that murdered girl?”

  Mom sounded less irritated with me now. There was a hint of interest in her voice. “Well, why didn’t you tell me that? I’ll have to let Mrs. Randall know.” Mom dropped her sewing and stepped off the front porch. She marched back to Mrs. Randall’s screen door.

  I could hear her rapping on the door. “Mrs. Randall, why Mrs. Randall!” She called through the screen’s dark mesh.

  I listened for Mrs. Randall’s voice and went inside the house to find Irish sitting alone in the kitchen. She was sobbing.

  “What’s wrong, Irish?” I was genuinely concerned. “Is it because you’re graduating next month?”
/>
  Irish continued with a series of sobs, shaking her head no.

  I stood in the kitchen awhile and finally left, puzzled as to why my sister was crying uncontrollably. I looked forward to Monday and the predictability of school.

  SUMMER

  SIXTEEN

  May had flown by and the school year was winding down. LBJ, Glynda, Eda and I were in the cafeteria for our last meal together as seventh graders. It was Thursday and Friday was only a half-day of school.

  “Are you going to eat your dessert, Eda?” Glynda asked as Eda guided her spoon toward the apple cobbler on her tray.

  Eda looked at Glynda then pulled the tray toward her. “Yes. I like apple cobbler.” Eda, as usual, was short on words.