The Burgenton Files

by C. Ruth Daly

  “Myer, one apple cobbler is enough for you.” LBJ droned as she drank the last of her chocolate milk.

  “What do you mean by that?” Glynda’s face was red. I had never seen her so angry before. “Are you saying I’m fat, Jameson?”

  Eda and I looked at each other.

  “Hey, guys. Come on, LBJ. Glynda, LBJ didn’t mean anything by it.” It was always my job to be the peacemaker.

  “Come on Myer. You have gained some weight, that’s all.” LBJ was trying to slide her way out of this one. “I’m not saying you look bad. You look good. Yeah. Like one of those works of art you see in pictures. You know the ones. The ones where the women are big and round and naked and they’re all standing around in a dark room with wash basins. You look fine, Myer. Really.”

  Glynda was silent and glared at LBJ as if she wasn’t sure if she was getting the truth or not. Her face slowly relaxed. “Okay. But it did sound like you were calling me fat. That’s all.”

  “Hey, LBJ—does your mom know anything else about that girl who was murdered in Hamilton City?” I thought I would break the silence and turn the conversation in another direction.

  “No. Not really. But she was talking to Grandpa the other night and said she’d heard that the woman who was hooked up with Ned Hollis was kinda changing her story. She isn’t quite sure if Hollis was with her. She was so drunk she isn’t even sure if Hollis stayed at her apartment that night. I guess the police don’t have reason to suspect him anyway. Her daughter’s boyfriend is off the hook, too. He had a few people who were his alibis for the night.”

  “I guess Brian Reynold’s trial is right after school gets out. I wonder what’s going to happen there.” I shook my head as I spoke. I knew what would happen if Officer Moore was involved in the trial.

  “Can’t we talk about something else for once? Like boys?” Glynda was still reluctant to talk about anything that involved Ned Hollis.

  The four of us sat quietly and finished our lunch. I glanced around the cafeteria and wondered why Glynda wanted to talk about boys when most of them were hunched over their trays like gargoyles and chewing food with their mouths wide open.

  After lunch we quietly returned to our classes to fulfill our last complete day as seventh graders. The classrooms were breezy and comfortable. Not at all like the stuffy insufferable rooms of August or the sweaty heat mixed with stale cold of winter.

  Spring in Burgenton had to be the best. I enjoyed my last few classes of the day since the teachers appeared relaxed and we weren’t really being taught anything. Most of us cleaned out our lockers during last period.

  I walked the dull floors of the hallway when the final bell rang for the day, down the concrete steps to the south exit, and out onto the blacktop between the gym and the school. Glynda and LBJ were waiting for me. LBJ wasn’t catching her regular bus today because she was going to stay after school at my house. Grandpa Todd would be picking her up at eight. The three of us had five hours of freedom. We had saved enough money between us to get a pizza at The Pizza Stop uptown. We had met to carefully and expeditiously plan our evening.

  “Should we catch the bus to the armory or should we walk?” I was the first to make a move toward developing our plan.

  “Let’s walk.” LBJ decided.

  Glynda hesitated. “It’s over a mile-and-a-half.” There was a silence then she shrugged her shoulders and sighed. “All right. We can walk.”

  With our arms full with paper grocery bags which contained the culmination of our year, we headed down the hill toward town. We saw a bunch of the high school kids parked and pulling in as we walked past the Tasty Suds Drive-In. The seniors had graduation rehearsal today and the lower classmen had been released from school a half-hour before us. The drive-in was a mob scene with carloads of students ordering into the steel speakers which manned each parking space under the long canopy. I looked down the end of the farthest row and noticed Gil Rolf’s truck. Irish was in the passenger’s seat where everyone in town now expected her to be since she and Gil Rolf had officially become a couple.

  “Hey, guys. There’s Irish and Gil. Should we go and see if we can bum some free food from them?” I stopped and turned to Glynda and LBJ.

  “I can’t believe your sister is going out with Gil Rolf.” LBJ shook her head. “Remember when we first met him back in December? I thought that he was a big scary thug.” LBJ hesitated. “I still think he might be. But free food is free food—so let’s go.”

  “I’m real hungry.” Glynda added. “That lunch at school just didn’t stick with me and carrying all these papers and notebooks is making me even hungrier.” She huffed as she rearranged her paper bag, shifting it from one arm to the next.

  The three of us walked to the end of the drive-in and to the open window of Gil’s truck. He was wolfing down onion rings while Irish had her head turned to the open field in the direction opposite us. She was sipping a drink through the straw of a paper cup.

  “Hi, Gil! Hi, Irish!” I tried to sound like I was just there to see how they were doing. I didn’t want them to think we were trying to get some fries and milk shakes out of them.

  Irish turned her head toward me, released her mouth from the straw and asked, “What do you want Donna?”

  Gil looked at me and swallowed the last of his onion rings. His Adam’s apple stuck out with the gulp. He smiled. “Donna, Glynda and hey, I remember you.” He looked at LBJ and grinned. “You were the one going out with my kid brother.” He laughed. “I bet they’re here to get us to buy them some onion rings and pops.”

  The three of us stood there clutching our bags and smiling sheepishly.

  “Hey, um, Irish. Can I borrow some money to get a drink? Glynda is really thirsty from carrying all this stuff from the school.” Glynda nodded her head like a wounded bird.

  Irish looked at me and rolled her eyes. “Donna, it’s less than a quarter-mile from the school to here. You guys look like you’ll survive the walk home without food and pop.”

  Gil laughed at us. “I can offer you a ride if you want.”

  “Gil!” Irish slapped him on the shoulder.

  “No, that’s okay. Thanks.” I said with a sigh.

  Our homeward journey continued down the hill and past the statelier houses in town where the three doctors resided along beside the more affluent Burgenton residents.

  “I wonder why Ned Hollis didn’t buy a house up here.” I remarked looking down Taylor Street at the elegant brick and pale blue homes that rose above the street which was lined with two hundred year old oaks.

  “Hollis Schmollis. Stop talking about him.” Glynda puffed as the paper bag she was carrying slid down her front. She had to juggle to keep it steady.

  LBJ looked at Glynda. “What’s with you, Myer?”

  “I’m going to tell her, Glynda. LBJ has a right to know.” And I related the long story of Hollis and his threatening moves on Glynda’s grandma.

  By the time I was done, we had crossed the single traffic light in town and were at the courthouse square. We walked in silence until we got to the corner to turn down Livingston Street toward home. The three of us stopped and gawked at Ned Hollis’s campaign headquarters. We could see inside where Ned Hollis stood surveying the small space and overseeing the two volunteers inside. I couldn’t help but notice one of the volunteers was Thelma Carson. We stayed and watched until a car horn beeped and a driver motioned for us to cross. The horn’s blare caused Ned Hollis to look in our direction. His eyes bore into us through the window glass from across the street and a chill raced down my spine. I felt like a rabbit trapped by a fox.

  All of a sudden Hollis left his spot and vaulted out the door in our direction. LBJ and I jerked our heads toward each other, our eyes frozen with fright. Glynda stood staring at Hollis as he ran toward us and I grabbed her arm and pulled in my direction as LBJ and I darted down Livingston Street with Ned Hollis at our heels. Our sacks were bouncing in our arms and the corner of Glynda’s had torn, scattering he
r book report all over the sidewalk in front of Tom’s Shoe Hospital.

  “Oh no!” Glynda squealed as she stopped to pick up her papers. LBJ and I stopped to help and I looked down the street to see if Ned Hollis was still after us. It looked like he had stopped running once he had crossed the street. He casually walked toward us now, stopping briefly to chat with a mother and her small child. LBJ stuffed the last of the papers in Glynda’s bag and as I stood, I looked at the ground to see a wing-tipped shoe.

  “I have something for you girls.” Ned Hollis stated smoothly as he handed us campaign buttons for any business owner or pedestrian to see. He spoke quietly. “I told you to stay away from me. Out of my business,” Hollis smiled weakly. His eyes were pristine and glassy brown. He jerked around and walked away.

  Without thinking I yelled, “Well, if you want us to stay out of your business, then why’d you give us these stupid campaign buttons?”

  My mouth suddenly went dry and I felt slightly dizzy. LBJ and Glynda looked at me with wide-eyed fear. The few pedestrians across the street looked at me. Tom came out from his shoe hospital and he stared at me and then at Hollis. I felt like I was in an old western movie. A high noon show down to see who had the quickest draw. From somewhere inside of me, I mustered the courage to return the burning gaze of Ned Hollis. It seemed like we stayed in that animal-like trance for an eternity until I realized it was only a few seconds.

  My trance was broken by Tom’s deep bellowing voice. “What’s going on here Mr. Hollis? What’s going on here? Aren’t you one of the McNally girls?” Tom looked at me with kindness in his eyes because Tom had known me since I was just a toddler and he had known my family for years having fitted all of us for shoes. He turned his gaze toward Ned Hollis. “Mr. Hollis? What you giving these girls campaign buttons for? They ain’t old enough to vote.” Tom looked Hollis up and down.

  Ned Hollis balanced from foot to foot and clasped his hands behind his back. “Why, why, Tom. Well ... I just wanted them to ... I just wanted to encourage them to take those buttons home to their moms and dads!” Hollis gloated on his quick response and appeared more at ease.

  “I see, Mr. Hollis.” Tom put his hands on his hips and stared Hollis down. “I think you best be running off to your campaign headquarters and you girls should be running along home. I’ll just stay here until you both head off.”

  Tom shooed us off toward home and LBJ, Glynda and I sped down Livingston Street. We didn’t slow down for two blocks until we reached the sanctuary of the Baptist Church. I looked behind us toward town to see if the sidewalk had cleared. Ned Hollis was gone and Tom was back in his shop. We walked the next two blocks, mute from our ordeal.

  I was finally able to mutter a sound once we were back on my front porch. “That was close.” It was all I could utter.

  “That was dumb.” It was all Glynda could manage to say.

  “I don’t think it was so close and I don’t think it was so dumb, either.” LBJ paced back and forth on the porch with her hands on her hips. “I think we are close to catching the fox.”

  “What’s she saying, Donna?” Glynda was flustered. “What fox? I know my brothers will hunt deer with my dad but I don’t think huntin’ foxes is legal.”

  I ignored Glynda’s question and focused on LBJ’s comment. “Yeah. Maybe Ned Hollis isn’t so sure of himself now. What do you think? After all, Tom sure looked him up and down and he didn’t really defend Hollis. And you know what else? Hollis looked scared. But what are we proving? We can’t prove anything. We can’t prove he murdered Linda Miles. We could prove he slugged Rita Brennan, if only Rita would have told everyone the truth, and LBJ and I kind of think he may have killed that girl in Hamilton City. But we’re just thirteen. We’re over our heads don’t you think?”

  LBJ continued to pace. “Maybe, Donna. But maybe we’re not. After all, we know of just a couple of people in town who aren’t so sure about Ned Hollis. Your grandma, Glynda, and Tom at the shoe hospital.”

  Glynda was off the topic of the illegal hunting of foxes and was following the direction of our theory. “Yeah! Grandma talks to a lot of women in town, especially at church and their gossip can spread like wild fire.”

  “You know, guys, Tom talks to a lot of people too. Those men who migrate from the drugstore to his shoe shop ... well you know they are going to be carrying news from one place to the next.”

  LBJ and Glynda nodded their heads.

  “Glynda, are you still afraid of Ned Hollis and what he might do?” I wanted to see if she was coming back into the game. “Come on, Glynda. You went on that crazy chase in the back of Gil’s pickup. You can’t back out now.”

  Glynda sat quietly for awhile and then slammed her bag down between LBJ and me. “Count me in. I’m going to talk to Grandma. I think she needs to stop worrying about Ned Hollis. I’m going to tell her Ned Hollis needs to worry about her!”

  LBJ and I took our bags inside the house and walked Glynda home. We were all feeling pretty cocky and self-confident in our sleuthing capabilities as we passed Mr. Roberts’s little rental and found him in the side yard pushing his baby boy back and forth in a stroller.

  “Hi, Mr. R.” Our voices rang in unison.

  “What are you girls up to when you have one more day of seventh grade?” Mr. Roberts asked with a smile.

  I shrugged my shoulders and LBJ mumbled, “Dunno.”

  “We’re trying to solve a murder.” Glynda gladly volunteered the information.

  “A murder?” Mr. Roberts looked confused. “Oh, I see. A murder. When I was a kid I liked to play games like that too. You girls are going to be in eighth grade. Aren’t you getting a little old for games like this?”

  I smiled at Mr. Roberts and felt relieved he really didn’t believe Glynda’s truthful statement.

  “We’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Roberts.” The three of us waved goodbye.

  When we were past his house and the alley, I gave Glynda a hard slug on the shoulder. “What did you say that for?”

  LBJ hit her from the other side. “Yeah, what did you say that for?”

  “Ow!” Glynda crossed her arms and rubbed her shoulders. “That hurt! I don’t know. It just came out.”

  “We’ve got to swear on our secret and keep it locked among the three of us.” I was serious. “None of us are sure of anything and we can’t solve a crime like this. Who’s going to believe us? The police sure won’t.”

  “What do you mean, Donna? Why won’t the police believe us?” LBJ looked quizzically at me.

  I didn’t want to answer. After all, it was a secret held between Gil and me. “Nothing, I guess. Um ... I guess I just have a funny feeling about people who are rotten. You know. That’s all. And hey, what about Thelma Carson? What’s with her?”I was suspicious of Thelma Carson and I needed to draw attention away from the rotten police of Burgenton.

  LBJ looked at me for awhile and then nodded her head in agreement. “Yeah, I know what you mean. Some people just seem like they can’t be trusted.”

  We got to Glynda’s house and went in through the kitchen where the sink counter was piled with dirty dishes and open cereal boxes were setting on the table.

  “Oh I bet Mom isn’t home.” Glynda sighed and shook her head. “You guys wait here and I’m running this bag upstairs to my room. I don’t want Mom to think I was home already cause she’s gonna wonder why I didn’t clean up the boys’ mess.”

  LBJ and I stayed in our spots and glanced about the room. We did not want to move and tamper with the evidence left by Glynda’s brothers.

  “Okay I’m back. Let’s get out’ a here. What should we do first?” Glynda was slightly winded from running down the stairs, but she didn’t let the breathlessness stop her. The three of us were out of the Myer house in a flash.

  “I dunno.” LBJ and I shared a response. We walked along in silence.

  We had passed Mr. Roberts’ house and were almost to my house.

  “Hey, do you want to see what Rita left for m
e?” The unplanned idea popped into my head. I had forgotten about the portrait which sat covered in the corner of my garage.

  “She didn’t leave anything for me.” Glynda pouted slightly. “But I guess I didn’t bother to say bye to her. I was so scared by the way Ned Hollis talked to Grandma, I didn’t want to bother to say bye. I hope I didn’t hurt her feelings.”

  “Na, I don’t think you did, Myer. Rita was glad to get out of town, though. She told me to take an axe to her picture. Dad said to burn it. He didn’t like the looks of it, so I didn’t do either. I just stuck it in the garage and put this old moldy canvas covering on it. I hope it’s still okay and not covered with mouse turds or something.”

  “We’ll just check it out, Donna.” LBJ turned to me as we walked across the backyard toward the garage. “Why’d she give it to you, anyway? From what you guys had told me, it was kind of a—you know—dirty picture.”

  We were in the garage and I moved Tim’s bike and a box of Christmas decorations to get to Rita’s portrait in the corner. “Well here’s Rita! Aren’t you glad to see her again?” The canvas dropped to the floor leaving a little cloud of dust.