People Live Still in Cashtown Corners

by Burgess, Tony

  “Okay. Okay. Jeremy?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Would you like a lot of money?”

  Jeremy shrugs. Jeremy’s parents have no money. His mom works one shift a week at the vinegar factory and his dad has probably never worked anywhere for very long. Jeremy has no money.

  “No. I mean it. Here.”

  I go over to the big map of Georgian Bay and I lift it from the wall. Jeremy turns slowly. He is a watcher. Probably grew up that way. I enter the combination to the safe and draw the door open.

  “Money, Jeremy, money.”

  I remove a thick envelope and place it on his knee. He looks down then scoops it up before it falls.

  “Go ahead. Take a look.”

  Jeremy peeks in the envelope.

  “That’s twelve thousand dollars.”

  “Wow. You should put it back though.”

  I drag a stool across the floor and sit facing the boy.

  “That is money I keep just in case.”

  “Just in case what?”

  “Just in case I need to do something that costs money.”

  “That’s smart. That’s a lot of money. That’s smart.”

  “Well, it’s mine to do with what I want to do.”

  Jeremy looks up from the money. He wants to ask something but just takes me in a bit. “So what I’ve decided is I want to give it to you.”

  “Why? What do I have to do?”

  Jeremy is holding the envelope out for me to take back.

  “Nope. It’s yours. I don’t need it or want it.” Jeremy returns the envelope to his lap. I give a big smile.

  “Can you guess what?”

  “No. What?”

  I look at his face.

  “Follow me.”

  Jeremy tries to give me back the envelope as we stand but I put my hand over his and push the envelope to his stomach. He walks behind me past the pumps.

  “I bet that car is stolen. That’s what it is for sure.”

  I turn back as we walk and say nothing. We reach the trailer and I try to think of something to say. I can’t think of a thing. I have decided to just enjoy this moment. I open the trailer door and step up.

  Jeremy comes in behind me. It’s not a big space and I have to back between the fridge and counter to let him in. Jeremy looks a little nervous but that’s pretty damn normal I’d say. I stretch out my hand to present what he’s here to see.

  The woman from the silver Corolla lies on the floor alongside the kitchenette. She is face-down and dead. The back of her head is stove in. Her hair is sticking up in black crusty spikes. We stand looking at her for a while. I don’t have much to say yet and I can sense that Jeremy won’t say anything until I do. So I give it a try.

  “Well, that’s what I wanted to show you.” I turn to him and he appears unable to take his eyes off her.

  “So? What do you think of that?” Jeremy pulls his stare up and looks at me. I half smile, hedging how I think this is going to turn out.

  “It is what it is. That’s her car out there and, well, that’s her right there.” Jeremy looks at the woman again. There’s a few flies dipping in and out of the back of her skull.

  “What happened to her?” I feel a little uncomfortable. I wasn’t really planning to lay it all out like this.

  “Well, I hate to say this but I killed her.” Jeremy nods slowly. He’s starting to take this in and I’m relieved.

  “Don’t ask me why. Anything I say is just gonna sound ridiculous.”

  I rub my hand in my hair. I want to appear frustrated.

  “Things just got out of control.”

  Jeremy hasn’t moved. He doesn’t even appear to be breathing.

  “Big time. Anyway. You keep the money, okay?”

  Jeremy looks back to me. I cannot figure out what he’s thinking. That’s what the money’s for.

  “Oh, don’t worry. You don’t have to do anything. I’ll take care of all this. You just take the money. You need it as much as I do.” I take a deep breath to encourage him to breathe.

  “This is all on me. You don’t even worry.” I step between Jeremy and the lady and reach across to open the door. He glances up at me then backs out.

  “You just forget all about it, okay? That’s a lot of money.”

  I walk beside him toward the booth, then I tap his elbow.

  “Wait. I should probably get rid of that car. You mind the pumps. I won’t be long.” I wait for Jeremy to say something. I’ve just given him a lot of money. He should at least say something.

  “Okay. I’ll be right back.”

  Jeremy nods. He’s acting a bit mechanical. I’m doing very well but I have to keep in mind that there’s a shock value. I slap him on the arm and head for the Corolla.

  I’m not sure where I’m going to take this car. Wherever I do take it I’m going to have to walk back so it can’t be far. I was hoping Jeremy might be willing to give me a ride but I think he doesn’t want to get involved. I pull off the lot and wave to Jeremy. He waves back.

  I take the road back to Creemore but drive slowly, looking for places to dump the car. The seagulls have settled around the tiller, which now sits idle in the field. I can’t just leave it at the side of the road. It’d attract attention pretty much right away. I guess I’m heading back to Creemore. In the rear view I can still see the gas station. There’s a big blue Dodge Ram at pump two and Jeremy’s hopped out of the booth. I’m trying to figure out if these events have a finish line. If there’s some set of actions I can take or ways I can just lay the facts down so they don’t move. Some way to keep everybody calm. It’s my responsibility. I’m the one who has to live with this.

  I turn down Main Street and there’s the cruisers at the Foodland. They’ve cordoned off the van with yellow tape and the Foodland manager is outside. Wonder how they found her so fast? She was the turning point. After her, things just seemed to go a lot smoother. I must be at war or something.

  I drive a little past the Foodland and the pharmacy. Past the brewery I turn up to the play park by the church. The car can sit here all day without anyone noticing. People come and go to this park all the time. Walking dogs and kids. You can’t know whose car is whose just by looking. You see a car or cars and you move on.

  I pull up under the shade of a big maple beside the park. Turn off the ignition and hold the keys. I could ask for a ride back from somebody. The car squawks when I lock it. I toss the keys high into the tree. They tear through leaves then fall just on the other side of the fence. Locked Corolla in the shade and keys on the ground between two exposed roots. Is this a narrative? Try again. Oh, yeah, there’s a locked Corolla parked across from the church. Really? Why are you telling me? Well, because the keys are on the ground just inside the park. What do you think? Somebody dropped them, I guess. What should we do?

  I don’t look in on the pharmacy. I really feel like talking to someone and Penny’s a good person, but there’s things hanging out in the open now that I can’t get caught with. I pass the fountain with the statues of shoeless kids in the water and I stop. Sometimes you just have to follow your heart.

  “Hi, Mr. Clark. You’re back.”

  I smile wide and put my hand on the counter.

  “Yes, Penny. I’m back.”

  Penny glances to the back of the store.

  “Well, what can I do for you this time?” I put my other hand up and look down at the gum.

  “I didn’t choose a gum when I was in before. Did I?”

  “Is that what you want then? Gum?”

  I look up from the gum and grin.

  “They come out with a new flavour every day.”

  Penny leans forward and peers down.

  “That’s right. We got some Extreme Something or Other down there. Here.”

  Penny points to a bright pink package. I flip it up and slap it on the counter. Penny smiles. Her eyebrows go up.

  “Will that be all, Mr. Clark?”

  I nod once deeply.

&n
bsp; “How’s the jaw harp? Can you play it?”

  I tap my pocket.

  “Got it right here, Penny. I’m gonna play it the first chance I get.”

  Penny laughs and I look back to the pharmacist. He’s busy and doesn’t seem to know I’m here.

  “Don’t chew gum while you play.”

  That’s when I notice. Penny has very pretty eyes. I couldn’t see that before. Last time I was in town I couldn’t see anyone’s eyes.

  “Sorry?”

  “The gum. You don’t wanna play and chew gum at the same time.”

  I feel concerned.

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. You could fling your gum out at somebody. Turn your harp into a little sling shot.”

  I slip the harp out and open the box.

  “That’ll be one dollar and twenty-nine cents.”

  I fold the lid back on the box and shove it in my pants pocket this time, then fish a toonie out from under it.

  Penny lets me drop the coin into her hand. “Keep the change.”

  “No. No. You take your change.”

  I wave off the change and she gives a soft snort.

  “In fact. You can keep the gum, too.”

  Penny cocks her head.

  “Well, I think you’re quite right about the harp. You keep the gum.”

  Penny watches my hand place the gum back on the counter.

  “But . . .”

  “No ‘buts’ about it, young lady. That gum is not going into this mouth and that’s final.”

  “Okay. Well, here. Take your toonie back.”

  I raise a finger and wag it.

  “Uh-uh. That’s yours.”

  I let her figure it out.

  “But you didn’t buy anything.”

  I hear myself sigh.

  “You don’t think so?”

  Penny slouches and laughs.

  “I don’t think you did, Mr. Clark.”

  “Well, let’s just say you’re keeping me from my business.”

  Penny looks worried.

  “I’m just fooling around.”

  I take the toonie and drop it in my top pocket.

  “Okay?”

  Penny shrugs.

  “Okay.”

  We look at each other for a while. I guess we’re both trying to figure out whether we should just call it a day. I have kind of lost the moment a little so I just let us look at each other for a while then I turn and leave. The police commotion is still going on at the Foodland. I walk along the sidewalk intending to go past.

  “Mr. Clark! Mr. Clark!”

  The store manager is calling my name. I stop and look. Two police officers who had been talking to the manager turn. I take a couple steps toward them and stop. I may be the person who did this but I’m not the same person. Some monumental shifts have taken place.

  “What’s going on here?”

  The manager turns to a police officer.

  “This is Mr. Clark, Officer. He owns the Sunoco at Cashtown. He’s been here all morning. You been here all morning.”

  I move closer and bow slightly to the policemen. They just stare.

  “Well, no. I just came in to drop off a lady’s car, then I gotta head back to the pumps.” I smile and roll my eyes slightly. One of the policemen shifts his feet.

  “You see anything strange, Mr. Clark? You see anybody in town this morning?”

  I put my hand to my chin and look up squinting. I am aware that this looks a bit like I’m pretending to think, but it’s all I could come up with. The other policeman turns to the manager.

  “I think you better tell Mr. Clark what this is all about.”

  4

  One of the officers has said this to the manager. I am making a face now but it’s impossible to know what it is. I can see their faces are starting to drift as well. Not full-on scribbles, but thumb-smudged. You can feel some of the easygoing quality of the day starting to go again. The two police officers stand at the side while the manager tells me all about this scene. Maybe it’s a police technique. Get witnesses to talk to each other and just take notes. The manager’s face is fat and smeared so I look at his hands. They are fat and red and moving as if he’s breaking invisible sticks over and over again. The one hand leaves its companion for a moment and wipes down the front of his pants, then hangs forward. It doesn’t grab the air right away but waits, watching the other hand, gauging its rhythms, then it goes up and matches perfectly. I am remembering this morning and some of the difficulty I had being in several places at once. They seemed to have categories for a while. One was thinking about the other. Then there were several different times at once. And another sort of spanned being different and managed to be very clearheaded. This makes me think that even though it’s not possible to get things done properly in any one of these arrangements, it is possible to still be yourself, to still know you are here and, most importantly, to care about what happens. These hands are different though. They are clearly aware that the faces are blending downward a bit and that they will still talk to me. The hands will show me a way to stay here. Somebody is saying my name though. I feel like I’ve fallen through a trick mat into a pit on an island. You don’t want to think about Mr. Howell and the Skipper and all of them, but something of Gilligan’s problems are here right now. And the island supports this. It makes you think. It forces you to try to remember all the times he slapped you on the face and sprinkled coconut milk onto your lips, saying, “Wake up little buddy, wake up.” I turn my face from side to side and watch the sky move. There is always something talking to us from somewhere else. It wants to quiet us. It wants us to know that sad is a frequency and that it picks it up like a radio signal. Then it pours a little room back in along the frequency, a little space around the things that have been touching for way too long. It touches every one of us.

  So I am still here and probably looking up. The police are definitely taking an interest in me. And, like I said, I’m probably looking up and I hear them. It isn’t anything powerful or tricky. I just listen.

  “Mr. Clark? Are you driving?”

  The manager’s hands are either above me or below depending on whether you are looking up or down at me. I turn my face and I can feel that I am crying and smiling.

  “He’s having a bit of a shock, officer. Do you need a ride, Bob?”

  Anyway, so one of the cops gives me a ride and I shoot him with his gun. That totally doesn’t sound like it happened. That’s very strange to me. Almost as if it’s not quite enough to just say it at this particular time. I will try again to see. So. Well, there you go. I got this ride from a nice police officer because I didn’t have one and, as it turns out, it was pretty easy to reach over and grab his gun and shoot it right at his head. So, anyway, he just dies like that. I got a ride form the cop and midway between Cashtown Corners and Creemore I put a bullet in his head. He’s dead for sure. Like I said, I killed him pretty much just now and so things are going to get said again pretty soon. But for now let’s just not act like we have to see it totally and let’s just accept this report.

  When he dies the cruiser goes for a while and I have to lean way down and pull his foot off the gas. I get out of the cruiser. It’s not exactly pulled over. More parked in the oncoming lane so I have to move quickly. I put the vehicle in gear and slip over into the correct lane. The tiller’s moving again and as I drive past, the gulls burrow backwards over the road. I slow the cruiser before I get to the station.

  There’s a black Tercel at number five. The hood’s up and Jeremy is leaning against the grill. He must be putting in a can of oil. He turns away quickly when he sees the cruiser. I pull to the back beside the trailer and park it where the silver Corolla was.

  In the rear view I see Jeremy fussing around the Tercel. He drops the hood, gives the cruiser a fast eyeball, then collects money from the driver. He steps back form the Tercel as it pulls away. Jeremy doesn’t know it’s me yet. He thinks a policeman has just pulled up and I would bet his mind is go
ing at a pretty fair clip right about now. I make the conscious decision not to tell him everything right away. Probably because he’s turned into such an exciting person this morning and I don’t want to ruin that. I also don’t exactly know what I’m going to do now and explaining what I’ve done implies that I do and can only get confusing. So for now, I just get out of the cruiser and wave to him. It takes a few seconds for him to understand what he’s looking at. He sees me standing here. I’ve just stepped out of the driver’s side of a police cruiser and, that’s right, Jeremy, I’m waving at you.

  He doesn’t wave back. He just stands there on the edge of the island. I stop waving. Jeremy steps off the island and I put up my hand. “No, Jer. You watch the pumps. I’ll be over in a minute.”

  Jeremy stops. He doesn’t go back right away. He watches me go around to the passenger side. I have to yell.

  “Jer! I’m serious! Just watch the pumps. Don’t worry, I’ll be over in a sec!”

  Jeremy half turns, stops, completes the turn and goes back to the island. I stand in the shadow of the canopy between number three and number four. He’s going to watch, I guess. I scan the corners for cars. Jeremy does this too. The dead cop droops to the ground from the passenger seat. I grab his belt and pull him out completely. I don’t know how much of this Jeremy can see but I don’t have time to worry about it. I pull up under the armpits and manage to hop him up my body. At the stairs I’m tempted to call Jeremy over for some help but he’s gone back inside his booth. I can’t see in the windows very well from here so I don’t know if he’s even watching.

  I get the cop up the stairs and into the trailer. I’m very tired and out of breath so I only pull him in enough to close the door. I take his shoes off and put them on the lady’s back. His jacket has a little blood on it but I clean it in the sink. I guess I need his shirt. His back is heavily haired with several intense- looking moles on his shoulders. I leave his pants and socks. The hat is a little big but if I angle it back a little it works. The holster is empty and I’ve left the gun in the car. I take one last look at myself and realize I’m being silly. There is not one good reason for me to be dressing up like a cop right now. I point at myself as if to say, “You know you’re being goofy, don’t you?” It’s a nice crisp moment that tells me that some of the story I’ve been telling is going to settle again.