By Day or By Night

by M. Glenn Aldridge

Rich old man William Countryman, Billy if you're his friend (of just bein' disrespectful otherwise), spends a lot of time at the bar; a LOT of time. With all his money from his many diverse business endeavors you'd think he could find somethin' better to do with his time. But then, money don't necessarily make you happy. If there's ever a man that proves that idea it's Billy.

  Billy tries; he tries real hard to get rid of his money. He likes to donate it. But he ain't no philanthropist, nope, he gives his money to the tip jar and to the hefty bar prices on beer and whiskey. He likes to buy rounds for the whole bar ? in his own way he likes to buy his friends. He's a stubborn man, he's a bitter man. Billy believes people are generally born evil. That is that they aren't worth much except for their base desires and wants. And greed ? oh greed ? Billy believes this drives most folks. Maybe he's right, but all his work to capitalize on that seven deadly sin hasn't won him any friends over the years. Well no real friends anyways.

  Yeah, sure Billy's ways have won him lots of money and toys (immature fools have to have their toys, he particularly likes collecting guns ? big guns ? that should tell ya somethin' right there). But, Billy hasn't won any followers to his ways. Oh sure Billy's got people he thinks are friends. He's got those mooches that are always lookin' for a free shot of Bourbon or a pint of lager. He's got the young girls, under age, that brush up against him if he'll just buy them a bottle or a case or whatever they desire that night. Billy's got huntin' buddies that really only put up with his arrogant attitude because he takes them on those all expense paid hunting trips to Alaska or Canada or where ever they want to go; usually the most expensive place they can think of.

  But in reality Billy has nothing. He has no support, no one that would be there for him if things went bad. Well except for his sweet wife at home. The wife that loves William Countryman with all her heart, but the same person he leaves alone most nights and most of the time really. See Billy's the type of fella that once he pins down havin' something; well he just don't want it no more. He's that type.

  Billy's best friend resides just below the ice in his glass. He spends his time and money on that friend. He just drinks away his life ? and wife. Billy's sweet little wife, who he never calls by name, just wife; stays at home as he does his thing.

  He particularly likes to get liquored up and hit on the young girls at the bar. We're not talkin' 'bout smooth woman's man passes either. No we're talkin' 'bout blunt obnoxious, creepy old man hitting on cute young things. Billy likes 'em real young too, that's why he's always buyin' those underage girls alcohol. Hell he doesn't even make them pay for it.

  Billy likes to flash his money clip. He carries too much cash to fit it in a billfold. He has this gold plated money clip with diamond studs on it.

  "What's your fancy tonight darlin'," Billy would say to any little young thing that wanted him to buy her some booze. His money clip would be sparklin' in the neon bar lights, surrounding the fat, fat green of mostly hundreds. Billy enjoyed using big bills in Barnsdall. He liked to hear people say to him: "Sorry we don't have enough change to break that sir". Then Billy would just say: "Keep the change then". He gloated in that; pride beaming off him.

  Late that night, or should I say early in the morning after the bar closed, William "Billy" Countryman was makin' his foggy way to his perfect Cadillac sitting just across the street from the bar. It was a closing time like many, many others for Billy. He'd stumble out of the bar drunker than a barrel full of monkeys and get in his immaculate Cadillac and drive home; drunk!

  Billy wasn't one of those fellas that even thinks he drives better when he's drunk. He's a terrible driver sober (which is rare), but far worse when he's taken in a wee bit too much of the creature, if you know what I mean. It's a wonder Billy hadn't ever killed somebody as he swerves all over the place. He's come close to hittin' a few cars now and again, but folks around town know better than to drive near that Cadillac after the bar closes down. Quite surprising he hasn't been picked up by the police either.

  Billy Countryman believed his influence could keep him out of jail and his money could buy him out of any fender benders. He's probably correct on both accounts; and that's a shame.

  But we won't have ole' William Countryman to worry about no more. Nope, see as Billy was makin' his way across the street, from the bar, to his Cadillac that night ? well let's just say he didn't make it.

  Apparently William was struck by a car dead on. I believe they call that irony; a habitual drunk driver getting struck, as a pedestrian, by another (likely) drunk driver. Who else would be out drivin' at that time of night except folks comin' home from the bar? And to make matters even worse it was a hit and run; so we really don't know what happened, just that ole' William was DOA.

  From the looks of the crime scene he was thrown quite a ways by the impact. He was probably dead before he hit the ground though; quite a hit he took.

  Basically the crime scene was like this: First thing you might notice was that there were no skid marks; none what so ever. Sort of puts into question an accident don't it?

  Second thing that really stood out was how William Countryman's shoes were right in the middle of the street; all by themselves. Odd to see a five hundred dollar pair of Italian loafers just sittin' there. You'd think they'd have flown one way or another. Not surprising that William was knocked out of them, just that they were sitting together all neat and tidy in the middle of the street; strange.

  As for William Countryman ? well he was a mess ? a complete mess. He must've been hit at least forty-five or fifty miles an hour; which is odd for a true accident bein' the speed limit right there is twenty-five; and a stop sign isn't too far away. But then again, drunks don't usually know how slow or fast they're goin', nor obey stop signs; and that's gotta be what it was, a drunk. Right?

  Starting at the bottom, of course, William was in his stocking feet. He must've been clipped right about knee height 'cause his legs were bent in inhuman directions. The pelvis must've been smashed as well. Both arms were broken and a collar bone; probably from the impact with the ground.

  The worst part was that ? well William Countryman's head was spun almost completely around. His neck was obviously broken and his head just spun right around about one hundred and eighty degrees. Terrible sight, it was. His eyes were kind of bugged out and his tongue was clenched between his teeth; though not bitten off. Even with his mouth sort of open and his tongue and teeth showin', he seemed to have the smallest hint of a smile on his face. At least he went out happy; if that's a proper thing to think.

  It wouldn't have to be a closed casket burial, but the undertaker would have his work cut out. One of those expensive tailored suits William had would probably cover up most of the damage, but it would still take a lot of spackle and tape to put humpty dumpty back together again. What a way to go!

  Now no one's jumpin' to any conclusions ? yet. It's not been decided whether this was a drunk driver hit and run or was another murder; spose' that's up to Chief of Police John Long to ultimately decide. But ? with no skid marks at all, it could very well be another murder. Lot's of crime scene work to be done before a final conclusion can be drawn.