Shotgun Moon

by K. C. McRae

  Merry stood on the sidewalk in front, arms folded, wishing she could rabbit back to the safety of the ranch. But Shirlene and Lauri were the only family she had left, and they were in trouble. She trudged up the cement pathway that curved between flowerbeds boasting colorful zinnias, delicate moss roses, and towering hollyhocks. Roses lined the driveway, interspersed with conical evergreen topiaries. In the middle of the lawn, yellow potentilla circled the trunk of a cherry tree. The air smelled green.

  Shirlene opened the door and threw her arms around Merry. “Oh, honey. What a mess. What an awful mess.”

  Merry followed her back into the kitchen. Her aunt lit another cigarette from a smoldering butt then rubbed out the latter in an ashtray on the butcher-block table. The mound of twisted filters among the ashes in the amber glass confirmed her chief activity since returning home from the police station. She shoved aside the piles of paper, clearing the space between them.

  “What’s all this?” Merry asked.

  “Just a bunch of my volunteer stuff. Thought I’d try to distract myself. Didn’t work.”

  Desultory bursts of breeze from the open back door stirred the stuffy air, and the guttural flow of fresh brew dripped from the Mr. Coffee on the counter. Shirlene removed the half-full pot and placed a mug under the stream of dark brown liquid. It slowly filled. She switched it for another and handed the first steaming mug to Merry.

  Her parole officer had said she needed to get involved with other people. “What kind of volunteer work do you do?”

  Shirlene waved her hand in the air and sat down across the table. “The committee to build the new Hazel Library takes a lot of my time, and I also work with a nonprofit called WorldMed. It Provides medical supplies to third-world countries, places devastated by natural disasters, things like that. They run the local branch out of the Quikcare Clinic, and sometimes I also fill in at the front desk there if they’re shorthanded and there isn’t too much work piled up at the cleaners.”

  “Sounds like you’re keeping busy.”

  She sighed and took a sip of coffee. “I try.”

  Merry picked up a legal-sized sheet that showed the layout of the new library. It said construction was supposed to start in a couple of months. Putting it back, she ran her finger over the stylized world map logo on the WorldMed pamphlet.

  She took a sip of coffee. Strong enough to strip tar. Perfect. “Where’s Lauri?”

  “I gave her a glass of whiskey, to hell with her delicate condition, and put her to bed when we got home. She’s asleep upstairs.”

  “Her what?”

  “Oh yes. On top of everything else, she’s pregnant.”

  Merry’s eyes widened. “Good God. How did that …?”

  Shirlene’s eyebrow arched.

  Merry shook her head. “Never mind. Why didn’t you say something?”

  “I was going to, but it seemed like you had a lot on your mind when we were driving down from the airport.”

  True enough. “How far along?”

  “Doctor says six weeks.”

  “Do you believe her?”

  “She’s puking most mornings. No real reason to lie about the timing.”

  Merry raised a skeptical eyebrow. It wouldn’t have been the first time her cousin had tried to pull something. “So who’s the father?”

  “She won’t tell me. But she’s still hung up on Clay. Hasn’t really dated since they broke up last year.”

  “It’s got to be him. Why else would she be over there this morning?”

  “That’s what I thought, though he didn’t seem the type to fool around on his girlfriend. Damn it. I was pretty glad when he and Lauri broke up. I mean, nothing against him, he was a nice enough kid—clean cut, upstanding sort. And I know his stepmom pretty well, of course.” She nodded toward the pamphlet by Merry’s cup. “She’s the one in charge of the WorldMed operation here in Hazel.”

  Merry nodded. Olivia and Bo Lamente owned a chunk of property that adjoined the McCoy place where they ran a small horse training operation. But like many rural people, they needed town jobs in order to pay all the bills. She remembered Olivia was a nurse.

  “Bo still teaching?”

  Shirlene nodded. “At the high school.”

  “Right.” She’d been a decade too old to hang out with their son but knew he’d been an only child. Like Lauri.

  “I thought it’d be good for that daughter of mine to be on her own, toughen her up a bit.” Shirlene snorted. “Yeah, on her own in my house. Lot of good that was. And he still managed to knock her up. I wonder if his girlfriend knows.”

  “What’s her name?” Merry asked.

  “Barbie Barnes. Another nurse over at the clinic. Nice girl.”

  How nice would she be if she found her boyfriend cheating?

  Merry hesitated.

  “What?”

  “I know you worry about Lauri, want to keep her safe …”

  Shirlene rolled her eyes.

  “… but she needs to fend for herself. She needs to get a job—”

  “She has a job at the Dairy Shack.”

  “That’s not a rent-paying job, Shirl. That’s a buy-yourself-more-clothes job.” She paused. “All I’m saying is, you’ve got to let her grow up.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake. I’m not stopping her.”

  “Well, maybe she needs a little push.”

  Her aunt’s hands gripped the handle of her coffee mug so hard her fingers turned white. “You want me to kick my pregnant daughter out into the street?”

  “No, of course not.” Merry looked out the window at the backyard. “Has she thought about adoption? Or …?”

  Shirlene closed her eyes and shook her head a few inches back and forth. “I can’t even get her to talk about it.” When they opened, her gaze snapped with anger.

  Merry dared another sip of coffee. “It didn’t look good, her snooping around over there before she found the body.”

  A pause. “I know. You know how she is.”

  “Yeah. I do.”

  “You think she’ll get in trouble for it?”

  Their eyes met. “I hope not.” Merry couldn’t quite keep the doom she felt out of the words.

  Shirlene looked away and reached for another cigarette. She sat with it in her hand, staring into space before lighting it.

  A loud banging on the front door made Merry almost drop her cup. She jumped up to answer before Shirlene could rise. Through the window, she saw a police cruiser parked in the driveway and another one cozied up to the curb in front.

  She opened the door, and the frame filled with Sergeant Rory Hawkins’s considerable bulk. Enmity crackled between them as they stared at each other.

  “Now what?” Merry said.

  “Police business.” Hawkins managed to sound both gruff and smug. “Get out of the way.”

  She winced at the rank halitosis that gusted out with the words. “I don’t think so.”

  He spoke with cartoonlike formality. “Unless you’re the owner of this property, stand aside. I’ve got a warrant to search the house.”

  “Search for what?” Indignation increased the volume of her words.

  “What’s going on?” Shirlene said from behind her.

  Hawkins pushed the door open, and Merry shifted a half step to the side. The sergeant had to suck up his sagging gut as he sidled past, pooching his lips and scowling. He clutched a folded sheet of paper and, ignoring Merry’s outstretched hand, thrust it toward Shirlene. She unfolded it and began to read as Hawkins headed for the stairs.

  “Wait a minute!” Merry said. “Shirlene, what’s he looking for?” She leaned over her aunt’s shoulder, trying to make out the words on the warrant.

  “Footwear, it says.” She looked up at Merry. “They want our shoes.”

  What? Then she realized H
awkins had disappeared. “Shirlene, get up there. Watch every move he makes. Don’t let him take anything except what it says here. Don’t let him snoop. Hurry!”

  Shirlene ran to the stairs.

  Merry rushed over to Jamie, now standing in the doorway. “What the hell is going on?”

  Shirlene’s angry voice echoed down the stairwell. “What are you taking those for? They’re bedroom slippers, for God’s sake!”

  A masculine murmur, then Shirlene again. “Well, try using some common sense, then.”

  Jamie grimaced. “I didn’t know about this until just before we came over here.” He sounded defensive.

  She gripped his arm and pulled him into the kitchen. “This is nuts! It’s only been a couple hours since you guys let Lauri go.”

  “Hawkins is in a lather about this one. He got Judge Vanderheeve to sign the warrant.”

  “What are you looking for?”

  “Shoes. And/or boots. To compare to the footprints we found under Clay Lamente’s bedroom window.”

  “Why would you think Lauri made the footprints?”

  Jamie hesitated. “Someone saw her over there last night. Walking around, looking in windows—” He stopped as Merry’s gaze flicked over his shoulder.

  A very angry Shirlene approached. “Don’t you have some idea what you’re looking for? You people are taking every pair of shoes in this house. We won’t have any to wear!”

  “Don’t mention that. Hawkins’ll want the shoes off your feet.” Jamie glanced down at her Keds.

  Her lips thinned into a grim line.

  “Is Lauri still upstairs?” Merry asked as she and Jamie joined Shirlene in the living room. “I don’t want Hawkins up there by himself.”

  “She’s up there watching. Barefoot, I might add.”

  Another uniformed policeman came in the open front door. A long, tall plank of a man, his skin glowed pale under a cap of fine orange-red hair. Freckles dusted his nose, and his cheeks carved parentheses on each side of his mouth.

  Jamie said, “Merry, this is Lester Fleck.”

  “Hey, Merry. Good to know you.”

  She nodded at him and gave Jamie a perplexed look. Then she saw the welts her fingers had left on his forearm when she’d dragged him into the kitchen.

  He hadn’t said a word.

  Shirlene glowered. “I’d better get all those shoes back and in exactly the same condition as when you took them. I can’t afford to go buy all new ones, you know.”

  “You’ll get them back. All except the ones that fit the prints,” Rory Hawkins said, lumbering down the stairs with a lumpy green garbage bag.

  How much had he been able to hear from upstairs?

  “We got ’em all. Let’s go.” He handed the bag to Jamie, directed one last smirk at Merry, and went out the door.

  Jamie, looking apologetic, shouldered the bag and went outside. Lester Fleck followed.

  Shirlene slammed the door behind them and reached for her Camels. Her hands shook, so Merry tapped one out and lit it for her. The acrid flavor made her regret it. Her aunt moved into the living room, slumped into the recliner, and dragged on her cigarette in silence.

  Merry paced in front of her. “Remember that lawyer I wanted you to get?”

  Shirlene sighed. “I don’t know.” She chewed on a fingernail. “Once they check our shoes against those footprints and they don’t match, that’ll be the end of it.” She looked up. “Won’t it?”

  “Oh, for crying out loud. You know better than that. They can’t get a warrant on a whim. They had a reason.”

  Shirlene blinked worried eyes. “Like what?”

  “Like they have a witness who saw someone who looked like Lauri sneaking around Clay’s place last night.”

  “What? Lauri!” Shirlene called toward the stairs.

  A shuffle, then a thump upstairs.

  “What is it?” Lauri called from the top of the stairs.

  “Get down here. I want to talk to you.”

  Lauri picked her way down the steps. Barefoot, she’d changed into a short skirt and sleeveless top in periwinkle blue. She acknowledged Merry’s presence with a wave of her hand.

  “What is it, Mom?”

  “Get over here and sit down.”

  She wrinkled her brow, but did as her mother told her.

  “Did you go over to Clay’s last night?”

  She frowned. “Why would I do that?”

  “Good question. Did you?”

  She shrugged in response.

  “Lauri.”

  “Stop yelling at me!” she said. “I’ve been through a lot, you know. You don’t have to be so mean!”

  “I know,” Merry said. “It’s been one rough day for you already. And I’m sorry to have to—”

  “I want an answer,” Shirlene interrupted. “Were you there last night?”

  Lauri’s eyes darted to the side, and she bit her lip. “Yeah! Okay? I went by his place.”

  Merry broke in. “Did you drive by? Or walk by?”

  Lauri wouldn’t look at her. “Does it matter?”

  “Someone saw you,” Shirlene said, leaning in. “The police know you were there. Now, tell me …” she swallowed, “… tell me why you went.”

  Her head jerked up. “Someone saw me?” Fear flickered behind her eyes.

  “Lauri,” Merry urged.

  “Well, I just went by—walked by—” She looked between the two women. “—to see what Clay was up to. I didn’t want him to hear my car. I wanted to look in the window to see if he was alone, is all.”

  Shirlene sank back in her chair, pale. “Oh my God, Lauri. Those shoes they took. They were your footprints, weren’t they?”

  “What footprints?” She looked blank.

  “They found footprints outside his bedroom window. That’s why they took the shoes. I thought they were barking up the wrong tree, but they weren’t, were they? You actually left those prints.”

  “Is that why they cleared out my closet?”

  Shirlene listened to her daughter with narrowed eyes. “What about the footprints?”

  “Well, I guess they might be mine. But I didn’t kill him, Mom.” She looked at Merry. Nervous. Pleading. “I mean, come on. I didn’t even go inside ’til this morning. I looked in the front window, and tried to see into Clay’s room, but it was dark. I thought I saw him sleeping in there. I’ll just tell the police why the footprints are there. They’ll yell at me for being a Peeping Tom, is all.”

  Shirlene gaped at her daughter.

  Merry sat on the arm of the sofa and put her hand on her cousin’s shoulder. She could feel her trembling. “This is serious, Lauri. Look at me.”

  Lauri raised her face and met her gaze.

  “Are you telling us the truth?”

  Lauri nodded vigorously.

  “The whole truth?”

  “Yes!”

  Merry dipped her chin. It had been years since she’d seen the girl—woman now, despite her sometimes flippant behavior—but she believed her.

  Had to help her. No one else would.

  “What shoes were you wearing last night?” she asked.

  “I don’t remember.” Lauri got up, shot Merry an enigmatic look, and traipsed out the back door. A moment later she was back, a pair of strappy white sandals in her hand.

  “What?” Lauri asked in response to their stares. “You didn’t think I’d let them take my favorite pair of sandals, did you? I dropped them out my bedroom window.” Shaking her head, she ran up the stairs.

  Shirlene turned to Merry. “Oh, my God.”

  Merry got up and leaned against the arm of the recliner, put her arm around her aunt. “It’ll be okay.” But even as she said it, the clenched fist in her chest gave another squeeze.

  “No. No, it won’t be okay.
” Shirlene jerked her head back and forth. “I know she didn’t kill anybody. I know it. But they won’t believe …” Her voice broke. “Oh, my God. What am I going to do?”

  “First of all, you’re going to face what’s going on and stop hoping it just goes away. Then, you’re going to call a lawyer.”

  “Who?”

  Merry sighed. “Do you know Kate O’Neil?”

  five

  Merry sat a half block down from the Hazel Police Station in the Blazer. The air conditioning had stopped working long ago, and Mama had kept putting off getting it fixed. Then the cancer started gnawing on her insides and such mundane chores fell by the wayside. The interior temperature had risen five degrees in the half hour Merry had been waiting for Jamie. He’d gone out to his Jeep once and returned to the station. She had no idea when he might get off work, but she’d follow him to a call if she had to.

  Twenty minutes later, at four o’clock, he came out again and this time got into his Wrangler and started it up. She followed him three blocks down Main. He pulled in next to the curb, and she parked three spaces behind him. He got out and went into Harlan’s Hardware, Garden, and Feed.

  Bright shards of late afternoon sunlight reflected off a car window, blinding her for a moment as she walked up the sidewalk. She went through the propped-open door into the relative gloom of the store, pausing so her eyes could adjust. Short aisles of shelves held a mixed lot of tools and hardware, painting supplies, and electrical and plumbing accessories. Straight ahead, on the wall behind the counter, locked cases enclosed an assortment of guns, most of them rifles. The air smelled of dust and machine oil. A smooth-faced youth gave her one desultory look from under the bill of his John Deere cap and went back to the comic book spread beside the register.

  Daylight streamed in through an open door at the back. It led to a covered loading dock where she knew she’d find tack and sacksof feed. In the lot beyond that, piles of gravel, sand, topsoil, and bark mulch could be purchased by the yard. Rolls of fencing, posts, and a collection of gates crowded into that area as well. Harlan had a little of everything but not much selection of anything.

  Eyes adjusted to the dim light, Merry located Jamie looking at packets of fishing hooks hanging with the fly-tying paraphernalia along the wall by the front window.