by Amy Metz
“Do you know why he was killed?”
“Negative.”
Tess looked at Jack, and he raised his eyebrows, as if to say, ‘It’s up to you.’
“Would you mind telling us where you were last night around eleven o’clock?” she asked.
“Why?”
“Just humor me. Please.”
“Didja hear the one ‘bout the duck who went into a bar?”
“I’m not talking about that kind of humor . . . Mr . . . .Tank.”
“Tell me what you’re accusin’ me of first.”
“I’m not accusing you of anything, I’m just asking.”
“I was home,” he answered reluctantly.
“Anyone with you?” Jack asked.
“Negative.”
“Okay, Tank. We’ll be on our way. Thank you for your time. If anything should come to mind, will you give me a call?” Jack handed him his card.
“Will do.”
They walked to the door, and Tess turned around to look at Tank. “Do you by any chance know Willy Clayton?”
“Dudn’t everbody?” he snorted.
“Have you seen him lately?”
“Seen him. Ain’t talked to him. He was over to Humdinger’s the other night. There were so many people in that place, you couldn't stir 'em with a stick.”
“Was he with anybody?”
Tank snorted again. “Yeah, he was with Peaches McGee.” He chuckled and scratched his head. “She’s what you might call a loose woman.”
“Okay, thank you again, Tank,” Tess said quickly, opening the door. It's definitely time to go.
They headed for the car, with chickens squawking and scurrying out of their way. Just as they reached the car, Tank called out from the porch steps. “Watch out or you'll plow up snakes.”
They got in the car, and Tess started the ignition. “Any idea what he meant by that?”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that expression a time or two. He means to be careful what you do or you'll stir up trouble for yourself.”
“Do you think it was a veiled threat?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t really strike me as an evil person. Tough as nails, rough as a corn cob, and he’s got about as much class as a guest on the Jerry Springer Show, but I don’t peg him as violent.”
“Why do you suppose he didn’t want to say where he was last night?”
“Pride. You put him on the defensive, and he didn’t want to be there.”
“Well, thanks for going with me. It wasn’t a complete waste of time, was it?”
“Not at all. We learned Brick Lynch was definitely one of the bank robbers, as well as, at the very least, a participant in the murder, and we learned this state has had some very crooked politicians once or twice. Not that it’s any surprise.”
“Do you think he was telling the truth about the money? That his grandfather spent it on hush money and booze?”
“Assuming he had to bribe a governor to beat the robbery sentence and a judge to beat the murder charge, yeah, I think it’s possible.”
“But you don’t think he’s to blame for the break-ins or for hanging around my house last night?”
“Nope. I think his hesitancy to talk is out of loyalty to his grandfather, plus his natural surly nature.”
“Well, if he’s not the perp, then who is? Who else would care about some stupid old key that goes to a stupid old trunk that has nothing in it but stupid old keepsakes?”
“Tess, I wish I knew. But whoever it is, he’s getting bolder.”
She glanced over at him and saw him smiling at her. “What? Why are you smiling?”
“Did you just say ‘perp’?”
Happier Than A Pig In Slop
Hemlock remover: noun hem-lok re-moo-ver Heimlich
maneuver
He’s choking! Somebody do the Hemlock remover.
[ July 2010 ]
Tess knelt on the grass, trying to fix the sprinkler in her front yard when Jack arrived to take her to The Silly Goose for the first official divorce support group meeting.
“Hi!” he called across the yard, climbing out of his truck.
Tess didn’t look back but called out, “Hi, yourself! I’m trying to fix this blasted sprinkler. It keeps getting stuck in one position. I’m almost ready.”
She fiddled with the sprinkler head, but it wouldn’t budge. She pulled on the little lever in the middle, bringing the full force of the cold water shooting directly into her face and the side of her leg. “OH!” she screamed, jumping up.
“Dadnamit!” She stomped around in a circle, dripping, and madder than a wet hen in a tote sack. Her hair was plastered to her head on one side, and one black linen pant leg was soaked, along with her face and neck.
“Can I help you?” He tried his best to stifle a smile.
“No. Thank you.” She kneeled back down, again tinkering with the object of her wrath.
“How’s my girl?” he called, standing clear of the water zone.
Tess swung her head around in surprise.
“Ezzie?” he said, reminding Tess of her houseguest.
“She’s . . . I think she misses you. I was working in my office this morning and realized she wasn’t around. So I went looking for her and found her in the kitchen licking her chops, with two empty bags at her feet—one of marshmallows and one of chocolate chip cookies. The funny thing is, I don’t know where she got them. I didn’t even know I had them.”
“Well, what can I say? My girl likes her vittles.”
Tess had continued working on the sprinkler as they talked; she directed it toward the hydrangea bushes and stood back several steps hoping to see it oscillate back in her direction. Still no movement. “Golldernit!” She stomped back over to the sprinkler.
She tried to get the entire middle part of the sprinkler to move, but once again, it went in the exact opposite direction, further soaking her hair and face. “Ahhhhhh!”
“Tess, don’t you think you should turn the water off while you fiddle with the sprinkler?” Jack asked, no longer able to keep from laughing.
She looked up at him between strands of wet hair. Through gritted teeth, she said, “If I did that, I wouldn’t know if it was oscillating again.”
But she stomped over to the spigot and turned it off. Then she stormed around the side of the house, returning a minute later with a miniature replacement for the offending sprinkler. “I have to get some water on these bushes. It’s as dry as the dust in a mummy’s pocket out here.”
Jack’s eyebrows went up, and his mouth turned into a wide smile. “You’re becoming more southernfied every day.”
She attached the new device, turned the water on, and satisfied it was doing a reasonable job, said, “Come on in while I get dried off.”
“I don’t know—am I safe in there? On second thought, maybe I’d better come in and rescue Ezzie.”
“I’m sorry, Jack. I wasn’t fussing at you. Just venting my frustration. Sorry you had to get in the middle of it.”
“It’s okay. I do want to see Ezzie. Your little mishap will give me some time with her.”
Tess dried off, put her hair in an ‘up-do’, changed into a clingy red dress, and then went to find Jack. She watched him for a minute as he talked softly to Ezzie and rubbed her belly. She was lying on the floor looking like she was in heaven, her little stubby feet sticking straight up, her back leg twitching every now and then when Jack hit the sweet spot.
“Okay, I’m ready.”
He looked up. “Wow. You look great. I like that even better than the black pants,” he said, unable to take his eyes off her. “And let me tell you, I liked the black pants.”
She laughed self-consciously. “You don’t think it’s too much?”
“I think it’s perfect. Where do you want Ezzie while we’re gone?”
Jack closed Esmerelda in Tess’s bedroom, and they headed out the door. Tess had been so engrossed with her sprinkler when Jack arrived, she hadn’t noticed what he w
as driving. She stepped down from the porch and looked out at the driveway.
“Oh. My. Gosh.” Her mouth hung wide open.
“You like it? This is Bessie.”
“Bessie” was a 1954 cherry-red Chevy pickup truck.
Tess was circling the truck in awe. “Jack, she’s beautiful! I love it! How come I didn’t know you had a truck?”
“Because it’s been in the shop being restored. Isn’t she a beauty? I bought her a while back, and this guy who does restoration on the side has had it for what seems like forever. He’s been slowly but surely working on it. I just got it back today. I hope you don’t mind riding in a truck to dinner.”
Jack held the door for her, his eyes following her legs into the truck. He ran around the front of it, hopped in, and held up his seatbelt. “We added these.”
Tess ran her hand across the rich, brown leather upholstery. She looked through the back window behind her and saw the truck bed, made out of wide, gleaming oak slats. Every inch of the truck was shiny and clean.
“I can’t believe this, Jack! This is fantastic!”
“She has all the original glass, but brand new wide, white radial tires, and new shocks.” He backed out of the driveway. “The wiring looks like it’s been replaced, so we left that as is, but he rebuilt the brakes, detailed the chassis, and even put a new exhaust system under it. All the gauges work. It’s still six volt, as it should be. I was tooling along at fifty-five miles per hour after I picked it up, and it did wonderfully. And she only has seventy thousand original miles on her. The transmission shifts great, and the engine purrs.” He stopped at a stop sign and revved the engine.
“Let’s see . . . what else?” Jack was radiating excitement. “It has the optional external oil filter. Oh yeah—check out the compass on the dash—how cool is that?”
“Jack this is very cool.”
He was quiet for a moment and then said with a sly smile, “Back there in the yard—did you say, ‘Dadnamit? And golldernit?’”
* * *
They arrived at The Silly Goose and found Martha Maye and Henry Clay already at a table.
“Hi y’all!” Martha Maye exclaimed. “Idn’t this fun?!”
“It is indeed, Martha Maye! Hi Henry Clay, how are you?” Tess asked.
“I’m finer than frog hair split four ways, thank ye. Hire y’all?”
“We’re great.” Jack rubbed his hands together as he sat down.
“Well, come on, spill it! Why are you smilin’ like a goat in a briar patch?” Henry Clay looked from Jack to Tess.
“Because of the sweet ride out in the parking lot.” Jack’s eyes danced and twinkled.
“What sweet ride?”
“A 1954 Chevy 3100 pickup truck, in pristine condition. Only seventy thousand original miles on it.” Jack was almost jumping up and down in his chair with excitement.
“I gotta see this! Ladies, will you ‘scuse us?” The two men wound through the tables and out the door to the parking lot.
“Well?” Martha Maye asked. “Did you talk to Crate Marshall?”
“Tank. He prefers to be called Tank. And yes, we did.”
“Tank? What kind of fool name is that?”
“Well, I’m just guessing, but I’d say it’s because of the way he looks. The man does kind of resemble a tank. He’s huge.”
“So what’id he say?”
“He confirmed that his grandfather was guilty in the bank robbery, and he said Brick was there…when your grandfather was murdered.”
“Oh, gracious light.” Martha Maye sat back in her chair, as if the wind had been knocked out of her. “Well, I can’t say I’m surprised, but it’s still somethin’ when you hear it out loud.”
“I’m sorry, Martha Maye.” She patted her arm. “He said he thinks his grandfather spent all the stolen money bribing governors and judges. What a shame—so much heartache and pain for nothing. It’s so sad.” Tess looked around the restaurant and then added, “Would your mother know if either of the other two men connected with the bank robbery had family still living here?”
“She might. Or Clive, or Earl, or even Buck might know.”
The men made their way back to the table with Jack looking like he had springs in his shoes, and Henry Clay beside him, gesticulating wildly.
“Well, she’s a beaut. I have to say I’m jealous,” Henry Clay said as they settled back down at the table. “What say we order? All’s I’ve had all day is a RC and a moon pie. I’m starvin’!”
When the food came, everyone commented on the rareness of Henry Clay’s steak. “I've seen cows hurt worse than that and get well,” Martha Maye said in disbelief.
“That’s just the way I like it! The only time I get real meat is at McDonald’s, and it’s always overcooked.” Tess and Jack exchanged looks.
A few minutes later, Henry Clay started coughing, and then he held his throat with a terrified look on his face. Martha Maye was talking a blue streak about her soon-to-be ex-husband, but she noticed him first.
“Oh, m’gosh!” She stood up so fast she knocked her chair over. “He’s chokin’! Somebody do somethin’! Does anyone know the Hemlock remover? Ohma gosh ohma gosh!”
Jack jumped up, shouting, “Stand up, Henry Clay.” He grabbed him from behind, putting his left hand over his right fist just above his waist-line. He forcefully performed a squeeze-thrust once, upward into his stomach, but Henry Clay’s face was turning beat red, and his eyes were bulging in fright. Jack repeated the action once more, this time successfully dislodging the piece of meat, to everyone’s great relief. None more so than Henry Clay, who dropped back into his chair, coughing, and wiping his face, which had broken out in a sweat. The other diners in the restaurant applauded wildly.
While Martha Maye attended to Henry Clay, Tess asked Jack, “Where’d you learn how to do that?” He just shrugged.
An embarrassed Henry Clay excused himself to the restroom, and the others resumed eating, slightly shaken. When he returned to the table, he acted sullen, pouty and quiet, refusing to eat another bite. As soon as everyone finished eating, he suggested that the first official meeting of the divorce support group end early.
“Y’all, I hate to eat and run, or not eat and run, as the case may be, but I need to be gettin’ on home.”
They said their goodnights, and Jack took Tess for a ride in Bessie, as the sun set and the full moon came into its glory. They got back to her house a little before nine o’clock.
“Would you like to come in?” she asked, opening the front door. Jack hesitated, and stood in the doorway looking at her. She took his hand. “Come on.”
When Jack went into the den, after springing Ezzie from lock-up, he looked surprised to find Tess had lit several candles around the room. She was sitting on the couch waiting for him.
“Would you like something to drink?”
“No . . . thanks . . . I’m good.” His eyes scanned the room and then settled back on Tess. “How about some music?” she asked.
“Sure.”
She kicked off her shoes and walked to the bookshelves, flipping through her music on the iPod until she reached the playlist she wanted. She placed it in its dock and The Dixie Chicks’ “Cowboy Take Me Away” started to play. She walked over to Jack and held out her hand. “Dance with me, Cowboy.”
Ezzie sat on the carpet and watched Jack and Tess slow dance through three songs. They talked softly and held each other closely; Tess alternated laying her head on his chest to looking up into his eyes as they swayed to the music. She ran her hands through his hair, forgetting about the area at the back of his head that was still sore from the mugging. She saw him wince as her fingers brushed over the spot.
“Oh, it still hurts. How are the headaches?”
“Better. Feel free to run your fingers through my hair anytime.” He smiled down at her.
Finally, she took his hand and led him to the couch. He leaned over, took the clip from her hair, and watched it tumble down around her face. H
e kissed her, his mouth taking hers hard, his arms pulling her into him. His kiss was all passion and hunger, and she returned it enthusiastically. In a few minutes time they were lying down, and the kisses were so hot and heavy, Tess wondered if the windows were fogging up.
Ezzie, who’d been lying on the floor sleeping, suddenly lifted her head and barked. Five seconds later, the doorbell rang. Ezzie began barking in earnest, running to the door.
They stopped kissing, but didn’t move.
“No freaking way,” Jack whispered against her lips. He propped himself up on his elbows on either side of Tess and looked down at her, trying to slow his breathing.
Someone knocked on the door.
“Are you expecting anyone?” Jack started to move away.
She pulled him back down to her. “No. Be quiet and maybe they’ll go away.”
He kissed her.
The doorbell rang again.
Tess groaned in frustration. “I’d better see who it is.”
Jack moved, and Tess got up, straightening her dress and hair as she headed to the door.
Jack muttered, “You have got to be kidding me.”
He stood up to tuck his shirt in and could hear Tess’s surprised voice as she opened the door.
“Nicholas!”
So Good Tastin’ It’ll Make Your Tongue Slap Your Brains Out
jaeet: verb jeet did you eat
Jaeet yet?
[ July 2010 ]
Tess returned to the den with a tall, twenty-something, good-looking man.
“Nicholas, this is my friend, Jack and his girl, Ezzie. Jack, this is my son, Nicholas.”
“It’s really good to meet you, Nicholas.” Jack stood, reaching to shake Nicholas’s hand.
“Jack is the writer I told you about.”
“I’m real glad to meet you, too, Jack. Is that your ’54 pickup out there?”
“It is! I just got her back from the shop today.”
“Man, she’s sweet.”
“I’d be happy to take you for a spin in her sometime.”
Nicholas’s eyes lit up.
