Bunny Elder Adventure Series: Four Complete Novels: Hollow, Vain Pursuits, Seadrift, ...and Something Blue

by J. B. Hawker

  Chapter Five

  If...you hang the dead body on a tree, you must not let it hang overnight.

  – Deuteronomy 21:22-23

  Later that night, Mr. and Mrs. Ramsey Lewis returned from a visit to their daughter in Astoria, Oregon.

  They had enjoyed seeing their new grandson and the rest of the family, but they were very tired. Their son-in-law, David, had insisted on taking them to all the sights while their daughter rested and nursed the baby.

  The Maritime Museum, interpreted by its architect to resemble a wave, was very interesting and they enjoyed seeing Fort Clatsop and the Lewis and Clark memorabilia.

  The high suspension bridge over the Columbia River surprised them by its length, but the Astoria Column with all those steps (over one hundred!) had been just that little bit too much.

  Julia Ramsey’s legs were sore and had stiffened up on the long drive back home. She was eager for a hot bath and a good night’s sleep in her own bed.

  Her husband wanted the two of them to check on all their Halloween decorations as soon as they got home. He was afraid some of the neighborhood kids might have messed with their things while the couple was away.

  He felt sure he had a chance to win the contest this year.

  Ramsay was especially proud of the dummy he made to portray the hanged man, Tom Dooley. He just loved that old Kingston Trio song. It was the inspiration for his theme.

  Julia was eager to get inside the house and settle down.

  “The decorations can wait for morning, Ram. If there’s anything amiss, you won’t be able to tell in the dark, anyway.”

  “Oh, I suppose you’re right. I am kind of tired. What have we got to eat?”

  The couple drove straight into their attached garage.

  Outside chores could wait for the morning’s light.

  In their side yard, the hanged man swayed in the gentle night wind.

  

  “Excuse me, are you the editor? I was sent over by the employment service.”

  A short, slightly plump middle-aged woman, dressed neatly in a simple black skirt and white blouse under a black jacket, stepped timidly into the newspaper office.

  Max Banks sat at his battered yellow-oak desk working on the layout for the front page of that week’s edition.

  He nodded and motioned the woman to take a seat at the other desk

  After she rather hesitantly sat down, he handed her some notes and asked her to type them up.

  She seemed surprised, but put her handbag under her chair and turned on the computer on the desk.

  Max supposed he had been a little abrupt, but he was very busy.

  There didn’t seem to be much reason to observe the niceties of introductions and small talk with a temporary worker who would soon be gone.

  Later on, when the paper was ready to go out, there would be plenty of time for the formalities.

  The woman got on with her assignment while Max tackled his own work.

  She looked over at him from time to time with a puzzled expression, but the morning progressed with very little further interaction, except when Banks gave her more directions.

  There was something familiar about her.

  He supposed they might have met before.

  She definitely was not the same temporary worker who had come last time, though. That one had been tall and dyed her hair.

  He could not usually tell natural hair from the dyed kind, if it was a normal color. The last temporary worker’s hair was flat black, like a chalkboard.

  Even Max could tell that it was not natural.

  This woman, here, had just let age and nature color her hair, until it was a sort of shimmery blond-silver-white-gray color. Definitely not artificial, anyway. It was sort of interesting-looking, actually. It appeared to be very soft.

  He decided the front page was satisfactory and the photo of the Trainor house was pretty effective. He wished he could capture the feeling it gave him, but he just wasn’t that expert with a camera, yet.

  Bunny could not figure out what was happening.

  The job service sent her for a job interview with the editor of the newspaper.

  At first, she supposed the man was giving her some sort of test, but she had been typing, filing, and even pasting up copy all morning.

  It was almost noon and she did not know if she could leave for lunch.

  If she did leave, should she come back? Had she been hired? Was she going to be paid for all her time today?

  “What the heck is going on? If it wasn’t so disorienting, some of this could be sort of fun,” she mused.

  She thought she might like this job if the odd man offered it to her.

  The editor (what was his name?) seemed a bit unapproachable, though.

  She wondered if this was his ordinary demeanor, or something he put on for this “test.”

  Maybe he was just extremely busy. He did seem busy…and so was she.

  She just wished she knew if she had the job, or not.

  She had not really dressed for a full day of work, either.

  Bunny chose her interview clothes for looks, not for comfort. Her high heels pinched her toes and the waistband of her skirt seemed to be getting tighter as the day wore on.

  “Oh, dear.” she sighed. She was going to have to say something soon.

  Max came to a good stopping place in his work and was beginning to feel hungry.

  He stood up and grabbed his jacket.

  On the way out, he paused by Bunny’s desk.

  “I’ll be back about one-thirty in case anyone calls. You can take your lunch break when I get back.”

  He turned and left.

  “But, but…wait! Come back! Oh, drat! He’s gone.”

  Banks had slipped around the corner to his parking space before Bunny realized what was happening.

  She dashed out after him, staggering a little from sitting at the desk all morning, but she did not see which way he went.

  While she was standing in the doorway, he drove through the intersection and Bunny noticed he was driving an oversized Cadillac SUV like the one following her home that night a week or so before.

  “Omigosh! So that’s where I’ve seen him before! No wonder he looked familiar to me.”

  She had realized as soon as she arrived that he was the man whose picture in the newspaper had reminded her of her first husband. However, there was more to the feeling of familiarity than that, and now she knew why.

  “Oh, this is too much.”

  Bunny had been willing to give the editor the benefit of the doubt and hang around to find out if she had a job or not, but now she remembered where she’d seen him before, she was determined to get out of there as quickly as possible.

  She was standing by the desk picking up her bag when the phone rang. Without thinking, she answered it.

  “Hello?”

  “Get on over to the Lewis place on Oak Street right away if you want a scoop!” an excited voice blurted out, before ending with a click and the dial tone.

  Bunny had to go by the Lewis’s on her way home, but since she did not work for this newspaper, any scoop could just stay un-scooped, as far as she was concerned.

  She finished gathering her belongings, turned off the computer and the lights, locked the door behind her and started for home.

  She took a few moments to sit on a bench in front of the post office next door and change into the walking shoes she had tucked into her bag.

  “That’s so much better.”

  Wiggling her toes, Bunny sighed and began with her usual rapid pace to walk toward home and sanity.

  As she approached Oak Street, she noticed emergency vehicles parked down the block; a sheriff’s car, ambulance and a fire truck.

  She wondered what was going on.

  Probably a car crash or a fire, but she could not see the cause of the commotion.

  Maybe things were just wrapping up. It was, no doubt, the “scoop” mentioned by the anonymous caller.


  A professional reporter would most likely get the details for everyone to read about tomorrow.

  Maybe the story would be on the local evening news and she could satisfy her curiosity that night.

  She crossed to the other side of the street to avoid the cars and all the people milling about.

  She was not a terribly curious person, actually. Bunny wondered if that meant she was dull. Perhaps, she was, but she was definitely too tired, and ready for the day’s adventures to end, to hang about and find out what was causing the commotion.

  She walked on, wondering if the job service would send her out on any more interviews after learning she had walked out on this one.

  Back at home, Bunny whispered a quick, “Thy will be done” (the prayer that never fails) and went to find herself some lunch.

  She hoped there was still enough leftover meatloaf for a sandwich. A meatloaf sandwich with mustard, mayo, lettuce and a crunchy dill pickle on sour dough bread was her favorite. One of those would almost make up for the strange morning.

  Chapter Six

  Those people stay awake, thinking up mischief, and they follow the wrong road.

  – Psalm 36:4

  Banks arrived on Oak Street and parked his vehicle about a block away from the Lewis house.

  With his voice recorder discretely tucked into his shirt pocket, he approached the sheriff’s deputy standing at the front gate of the property.

  The deputy was a casual acquaintance, the cousin of one of his old school mates.

  “Larry, what’s going on? I was eating a hamburger at Etta’s Place when some guy came in talking wildly about a scarecrow being replaced by a ‘real live’ dead man. Is it true?”

  “Well, Max, you know I shouldn’t be talking about this stuff, especially to a newspaper reporter, but just between us, yeah, it’s true. It’s the weirdest thing I ever saw. Really gross. But, you’ll have to talk to the Sheriff or one of the information guys for anything you can quote.”

  “Thanks, Larry, I’ll do that. Is there someone around I can interview?”

  “You might try the folks who live here. They found the body. They were pretty shook up when I saw them before, though.”

  “Thanks. I owe you one.”

  Banks approached the house, trying to look like he belonged there.

  Fortunately for him, rural sheriff’s departments are usually under-staffed. While all the available officers were busy guarding the side yard and moving the gawkers along, Max stepped onto the front porch and rang the bell.

  A man who appeared to be in his early seventies opened the door promptly.

  He did look a little pale, but did not seem upset to see a visitor.

  “Mr. Lewis? I am Max Banks, the editor of the Clarion Review. I wonder if I might come in and have a few words with you and your wife about all this.”

  Lewis opened the door wider and motioned for Banks to come in.

  “My wife and I were just having a drink to settle our nerves. Will you join us?”

  Banks accepted the beer Lewis offered, and sat down on a red and green plaid wing chair near the door.

  Mr. Lewis joined his wife on a brown leather sofa under the undraped picture window.

  Mrs. Lewis, a tall, angular woman with shockingly intense auburn hair, turned frequently to look outside, and then quickly averted her eyes again. She seemed to be hoping with each look the commotion would be gone.

  “I’m glad you came by, Banks,” said Lewis.

  “We need to get the word out about these young vandals coming into our nice, peaceful neighborhoods and wrecking folk’s property and playing these awful pranks. It’s getting out of hand when punks make use of a corpse like this. No one has any respect for the dead, anymore. Heck! No one has any respect for anything. Why, in my day...”

  “That’s enough, Ram. This man did not come here to be harangued. He would like to get the facts, so he can put them in the paper. Isn’t that right, Mr. Banks?”

  “Yes, thank you. Although I can certainly understand why you are both upset. Do you mean to tell me someone actually stole a dead body and put it in your yard?”

  “I’m afraid so, Banks. These young hoodlums don’t care who they hurt or what damage they do. I had a super authentic-looking hanged-man dummy. I made it myself. They stole it and did this disgusting thing. I imagine when the police find out where the body came from and whose it was, the deceased’s family will be as upset as I am,” Lewis spoke angrily.

  Max tried to calm him by asking about the day’s events.

  “When did you discover the substitution of a corpse for your dummy? How did it happen?”

  “I wanted to check on the decorations last night when we returned from Astoria…we’d been visiting our daughter and new grandbaby…he’s a corker. The spit and image of me at that age….anyway, Julia wouldn’t hear of taking the time to check things out last night, and then this morning I had an appointment with the dentist. So it was nearly lunchtime before I had a chance to reconnoiter and see how things were holding up.”

  “Earlier, I had looked at the decorations set out on the porch, of course, Mr. Banks,” Julia offered, “but I wasn’t feeling up to much walking this morning, so I just waited for Ramsey to get home to check the side yard.”

  “He’d only been outside a few moments when I heard him shout for me to come see what had been done to Tom Dooley (that’s what he called the dummy…silly, I suppose), and then, as I started to go out, he was shouting again for me to stay inside and call the police. On no account was I to go outside. In fact, I never did see the thing in the tree. Just a lump under a tarp after the sheriff’s men had come.”

  Mr. Lewis leaned forward, saying, “At first, I just thought my dummy had been doctored up, you see. Then, I thought maybe it was a store mannequin. As soon as I realized what it was, I knew I didn’t want Julia seeing it.”

  “Thank you for that, Ramsey.”

  “So you had no idea there was anything different with your Halloween props until you actually went out there?” Banks interjected.

  “None, at all!” Lewis said.

  “You seem to think you know who is responsible. Is that right?”

  “Of course, I know who did it! Oh, I don’t know their names, but I am sure it is that bunch of hooligans who tramped on my primroses all summer. The same ones who throw their soda cans and fast food wrappers in my shrubbery all year around. The police don’t need to look any further than the high school to find their culprits,” Lewis concluded.

  His wife patted his shoulder and spoke softly, “Now, Ram, we can’t know that for sure. Many nice young people walk past here every day. There are a few who don’t seem to care about private property, I’ll grant you, but I can’t see any of them doing something so bizarre, even if it is near Halloween.”

  Turning to Banks, she said, “The truth is we haven’t a clue as to who would do such a thing. Or why.”

  Julia sounded apologetic.

  “Well, thank you both for taking the time to talk with me. I’m sorry if I’ve added to your ordeal today,” Max said, while rising to leave.

  “Not to worry,” Lewis replied.

  “You’re only doing your job and getting the word out. Maybe it will help the police to find my dummy and catch the vandals who made such a mess of our contest decorations.”

  Banks left the Lewis house and hurried back to his car.

  Before he reached it, a shout caused him to pause. He turned and saw the County Sheriff approaching.

  “Who are you and what were you doing in there?” Sheriff Williams asked as he caught up to Banks.

  Max explained who he was and asked the beefy, red-faced sheriff if he had a statement for the paper.

  “We’re not certain what has happened here, just yet, and we sure don’t want a lot of rumors getting started. What did Lewis tell you?”

  “Only that he thinks placing a stolen corpse in his tree was an act of teen-age vandalism. He did not seem to have any proof o
r anyone specifically in mind, though. He is involved in a running battle with the kids using his yard as a shortcut to the school,” Banks explained.

  “Tell me, Sheriff, do you have any idea who the body was or where it came from? Has the local mortuary reported any trouble?” he asked.

  Max thought he might as well take advantage of this impromptu interview before the sheriff ran him off.

  “All we have to say, for now, is the body of an unidentified man was found hanging in a tree at a home here in town. An investigation is underway, and anyone having any information about the incident should call the Sheriff’s Dept. Can you get that into this week’s paper?”

  “I’ll have it on the front page with a headline. Thanks, Sheriff.”

  Banks climbed into his car and drove off; satisfied he had a little something different to fill that gap on the front page. He could use the photo he had taken of the Lewis place yesterday along with the story.

  Back at the office, he checked the digital photos from the previous day, looking for the shots he had taken while driving on Oak Street.

  There! That was the one he was looking for. Max clicked on the thumbnail and the image expanded to fill the screen.

  Whoa, there… could that realistic dummy, as he had supposed when he photographed it, have actually been the dead man?

  He magnified the photo even more and realized he was looking at a photograph of a crime scene.

  “Whoever stole the corpse certainly had a strong stomach to have messed it up like that,” Banks shuddered.

  Then the reporter in him took over and he got excited at having the perfect photo to illustrate his news story.

  He was pretty sure the photo in its reduced size wasn’t inappropriate or too offensive for the front page, especially in the grainy reproduction of the newspaper press. Nevertheless, it should still be possible to tell the photo was of a corpse, rather than a scarecrow or dummy.

  He would go grab a bite to eat, then come back and ready the paper to send to the printer.

  Max looked around the office and it dawned upon him he was alone.