by David Berens
Troy listened for a minute and then asked, “so what do the police make of the big knife?”
She scrunched her nose. “What big knife?”
“The one that Jack—.”
He stopped mid-sentence. In the scenario he and Jamaica Jack had worked out, he wasn’t supposed to know about the knife. But there was something about Meira that he trusted. He figured he needed a friend, and she seemed like a good one. Besides that, it was her job to figure out things like this and to do a good job of it, she’d need all the info.
“Me ‘n Jack went out fishin’ yesterday. Caught a pretty big Mako by accident and as we tried to tag him and get the hook out, the poor thing started bleedin’ something fierce.”
Meira crinkled her nose again and Troy couldn’t help but think it was an incredibly cute mannerism.
“Anyhow, he didn’t make it, so we hauled him in and went to clean him.”
Troy paused for a second. He held up his empty beer bottle.
“You got another?”
“Yeah, sure,” Meira said as she stood.
She took his bottle and opened the screen door. It squawked as it opened and Troy made a mental note to shoot it up with some WD-40.
“I’m all ears,” she called through the screen.
“Well, like I said, we were cleaning him and out comes this big, dang knife. Like some kind a Sumo sword or somethin’.”
He waited. She said nothing, but eventually poked back out on the porch.
“Sumo sword?”
“Yup. Hard to describe, but picture a big, thick sword. And the sucker was sharp. Sliced my thumb with barely a touch.”
“The file didn’t say anything about it. When did you call it in?”
Troy took a sip of the beer and inhaled. Here goes nothin’, he thought.
“About that…I didn’t call it in.”
Her face went blank.
“Why not?” she finally asked.
“Well, we figured this thing could be the murder weapon used on them two girls. I know what you’re thinkin’. Unlikely, yes. But now the dang thing has my blood on it and probably the girl’s too. So, Jack said he’d take it and clean it up real good. Then he’d report it to the cops and let ‘em do with it as they wanted.”
“Okay.”
Troy wondered if he’d blundered. Her entire mood had changed.
“I’m not sure why Jack wouldn’t have taken it in.”
She sighed. “Troy, you should’ve taken it in and explained exactly what happened. In the ridiculously random event that this sword is the murder weapon, you now look like you were trying to cover it up.”
“Yeah.” He took another swig of his beer. The orange tang tasted sweet and sour. “I know. It seemed like a good plan at the time.”
She thought about it for a second. “So, where is the sword now?”
Troy shook his head. “I guess Jack’s still got it. Maybe he just hasn’t taken it to the cops yet.”
“Maybe.”
“But, like you said…it probably ain’t the murder weapon anyway.”
“Probably not.”
Meira was deep in thought. She took another long breath and then out of nowhere she changed the subject.
“They did have notes on Barry, the kid you work with from the store.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. Pretty much ruled him out too. The cops don’t think he’s smart enough to have pulled this off and leave literally no trace at the scene of the crime.”
“He’s not the sharpest tool in the shed.”
She grinned and Troy felt the mood lighten a bit.
“But I think it would be wise to tell me and the police about anything new that comes up from now on. Deal?”
She held up her bottle. Troy clinked his against it.
“Deal.”
“Is yours empty again? Mister Bodean, I do believe you’re trying to get me drunk.”
“I told you, my friends call me Troy.”
“Well, Troy,” she winked at him. “Shall I get you another?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Troy watched her lithe runner’s body heading in for the next beer and tried to come up with a good way to extend their time together. When she walked back out onto the porch, he’d rehearsed his next line to near perfection.
“Ya know, sunrise is really somethin’ if you watch it from my boat.”
“Oh?”
“Yup.”
“I’d like to see that sometime.”
“Well, should I call you in the mornin’, or nudge you?”
She laughed and Troy knew his hook was set. He spent the rest of the evening trying hard not to stare…and mostly failed.
Riley could hear the sound of her mom giggling on the porch.
“Oh…my…gosh,” she muttered to herself. “She’s drunk.”
Why won’t they go inside? Ugh, but if they went inside, that probably meant they were going to—. She made the thought go away. She leaned against the screen in her window and could tell their voices were getting softer and more personal sounding. It won’t be long now until they would go in. Go Mom, she thought and feigned a gag.
She opened her phone and checked for any new messages. Nothing. She thought Barry had probably given up on her. She tapped out a note to him.
-Won’t be long now. Can’t sneak out. Mom’s on the porch.
He didn’t answer. Yup, she thought, he’s moved on to the next girl on his list. But then the message came that sent a thrill up her back.
-I’ll be waiting, princess.
Princess. He called me princess. She leaned against the screen and listened. She couldn’t hear anything. Sweet, they finally went inside. The time had come. It was the first time Riley had ever done anything so bold in her life. If her mom found out…she’d be dead.
She gently pulled the edges of the screen inward and was careful not to drop it. If it went clattering across the roof, she would just say she was getting some air. She laid the screen aside and grabbed her backpack. A cool wind blew in across her face and she wondered if she’d need a jacket. Nah, they’d be inside and hopefully sharing warmth. She felt the smile creep onto her face.
Easing herself out onto the roof, she sat on her butt and scooted to the edge of the roof. Her plan was to swing down onto the porch. On the side where the hammock hung, then she would ease down and step onto the rail. Easy-peasy. She inched her way closer to the edge of the roof and realized she’d forgotten about the gutter. She’d have to somehow climb over it without grabbing hold and ripping it off the eaves. Surveying the situation, she found that she could loop her backpack onto an empty plant hook near the back of the porch, ease over and swing down without putting too much weight on the gutter. At least, that had been the plan.
Hooking the backpack was the easy part. Getting the nerve to swing out and over the edge…that was the part she wasn’t looking forward to. And from this vantage point, the ground looked to be a long way down. She took a deep breath, steeled herself for the swing—and the likely fall after—and rolled over the edge of the roof. As she did, she heard her mother’s voice call from inside.
“Don’t you fall asleep on me out there, Troy.”
“This hammock is a thing of beauty,” she heard the man’s voice and it was immediately underneath her.
Her mother’s client, or boyfriend, or whatever he was, was obviously lying in the hammock directly underneath her.
Crap, Riley thought in panic. There was no way to stop her swing now. Her legs went dangling over the edge of the eave, but her upper body was still laid out on the roof. She was half on and half off. She controlled her breathing and hoped the man wouldn’t look in her direction. If he did, he surely see her legs.
“I believe I could just stay here all night,” the man said.
No, no, no, Riley thought, go inside for chrissakes.
She heard her mother laugh and the sound of clinking glass inside.
“Last two beers,” she called
and her voice got closer.
The squeak of the screen door opening sent panic up into Riley’s spine. Her grip slipped and she scooted roughly down on the roof. The shingles grabbed her shirt and tugged it up. Her stomach was exposed now, but protected from the gritty surface as the shirt rolled upward. The gutter was now tucked under her arms and her bellybutton and legs hung down swinging in the air. Sweat began to form on her face and her hands were getting slick. She knew what was coming. There would be no climbing back up…she was going to fall. Her only hope would be to swing all the way over and land on the porch rail. Her mom and the man would see her, but that’d be preferable to falling.
“Come on in,” she heard her mother say. “I need the light to make some notes about this whole sword thing.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the man replied. “I’m on my way.”
He groaned and Riley heard the sound of his feet thumping onto the porch and the hammock squeaking as it swung back and forth. Her grip slipped and she slid. In the worst possible scenario, she felt the edge of her bra catch on the gutter. Panic flooded her mind. Her shirt was now rolled up to her elbows and neck and the gutter had grabbed the only remaining fabric on her upper body. She felt the cool air on her chest as the only thing between her and the night lifted away. Her legs kicked wildly as she tried to stop her fall.
The screen door opened and then banged shut just as she lost her grip. Her shirt and bra ripped off and stayed behind on the roof. Her legs caught the edge of the rail and her hands grabbed the hooked backpack. She swung down onto the porch and ducked behind the not-so-perfect-cover of the hammock. But she was alone on the porch.
She’d done it. She’d managed not to fall to her death or get caught. But there was one big problem. She was now topless. The remnants of her T-shirt and bra fluttered in the breeze dangling from the gutter. She squeezed the backpack to her chest, essentially wearing it backward, to cover herself.
“Shit,” she mouthed as she huddled to catch her breath.
Her first thought was to try and climb back up to get her clothes, but she could see the shredded bra and changed her mind. She glanced out to the driveway and saw the man’s truck sitting there. Maybe he’s got a spare shirt or a jacket or something in there, she thought. When she was sure her mom and the man had gone inside for good, she crept under the hammock and crawled down the steps to the ground. She darted across the scraggy lawn and gently pulled the handle on the passenger’s side of the pickup. It was locked. She groaned and ran around the truck to the driver’s side. It was locked too. So much for that plan.
She moved to the back of the truck and looked in the bed. There was a knotted grocery bag with what looked like clothing inside. Maybe a lucky break. She tore into the bag and found a T-shirt and a pair of khaki shorts. As soon as she got them out, the smell hit her. The clothes smelled like fish guts and had a fair amount of unrecognizable goop on them. She took a deep breath.
“Better than being naked,” she muttered as she pulled the shirt over her head.
The smell was disgusting, but her panic at being exposed began to settle. She’d just borrow one from Barry when she got to his place. She walked to the road, oriented herself, and opened the GPS on her phone. He’d sent her the address earlier and she clicked, GO.
-On my way.
-Finally LOL.
-See u in ten.
-Ok princess.
Riley tucked her phone into her backpack and started walking. She felt the bounce come back to her steps as she walked. The exhilaration of sneaking out was intoxicating…so much so that she almost didn’t notice the raindrops begin to dot her face.
Troy spent the next hour poring over the information Meira had gotten from Darla down at the police station. Meira was lounging on the couch and he saw her exaggerate a yawn. He looked up at her.
“Sleepy?”
“Yeah.” Her eyes were a little glazed over from the beer and exhaustion. “Probably head to bed soon.”
“Want to make that trip out to the boat? I’ll be good,” he said and raised three fingers in the air. “Scout’s honor.”
She laughed. “I wish I could. It’s a school night. Gotta be here to get Riley up and going.”
“I’ll have you back before that. Just long enough to see the sunrise.”
“Now, Mister Bodean—.”
“Troy,” he interrupted her.
“Okay, Troy. I’ll have you know, I’m a grown woman and I can take care of myself against any Boy Scout.”
“I think I’ve got some champagne.”
Meira took a deep breath and considered this.
“Let me check in on Riley and grab some things. You’ll have me back here by seven?”
“Before seven.”
She smiled and winked at him. “Okay then, It’s a date…a deal…I meant to say it’s a deal.”
Her cheeks reddened and made her even more beautiful than she had been before.
“I’ll be in the truck,” he said.
Meira tapped lightly on her daughter’s door. The butterflies in her stomach made her giddy with excitement. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been alone with a man. Riley didn’t say anything. Meira turned the knob as slowly and quietly as she could and peeked around the door. Her daughter (or what she thought was her daughter) was lying in bed, snuggled up under the quilt her grandmother had made.
“I love you, baby girl,” she whispered into the room.
She closed the door and tiptoed back to her bedroom. She grabbed a duffel bag and tossed in an old Clemson Football T-shirt, some pink boxer shorts, and her toothbrush. She locked the front door, checked it three times, and then jogged out to the pickup truck. Troy was sitting inside with the motor running. She slid into the passenger’s side and was pleased to find that he had the radio playing an oldie’s station. Marvin Gaye sang them out of the driveway and as they pulled onto the road, Troy leaned over and pecked her on the cheek. Her heart fluttered and she leaned her head on his shoulder as he drove.
She leaned on the same shoulder after he built the small fire on the beach and sat down next to her. He wrapped a blanket he’d gotten from the boat around her shoulders. He emptied the remaining contents of a bottle of Pinot Noir into two red Solo cups and handed one to her. He clinked it against her and raised it up.
“To new friends.” He smiled as he said it.
“Friends, eh?” she asked with a grin.
It was the first time all night that she’d seen him look flustered. But as they sat and watched the waves roll into the shore, her mind began to travel back to the details of the gruesome murder of those two girls. They worked with Troy and by all accounts, had been out drinking with him the night of their deaths. She shivered as she remembered that he’d found the sword that might’ve killed the girls, but didn’t turn it in to the police. So, this man she was leaning against had been in direct contact with the victims and likely, the murder weapon.
Her pulse quickened as she realized he might be luring her out to be his next victim. She tried to formulate a way to leave…to go home…to get away from him.
“Ya know,” she tried to sound as casual as she could, “I really should just get back home.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Somethin’ I said?”
She opened her mouth to answer, and then closed it. No, it couldn’t be him. The evidence had given him an alibi…right?
“Troy…”
“Yes, Meira?”
“Did you kill those girls?”
His face softened into a grin and he chuckled.
“Is that what’s got you all tightened up and shakin’ like a leaf all the sudden?”
She shrugged. He put his hand under her chin and lifted her eyes toward his.
“I had nothin’ to do with those girls gettin’ killed.”
She took in a deep breath.
“Okay. I trust you. I don’t know why…but I trust you.”
He grinned. “Must be the hat.”
She laughed
out loud. “Must be.”
Leaning her head back onto his shoulder, she felt herself relax. She closed her eyes and hoped that he was as honest as the Boy Scout he claimed to be. She slipped into sleep as the first few drops of rain reached them.
13
Oops, I Did It Again
Barry stood out in front of his trailer, shirtless, arms crossed, listening to the old hag of a woman from down the street yelling like a banshee. A storm was brewing out to the west and apparently had thrown the trailer park into darkness. Barry had been tromping around in his game whacking the heads off of villagers for a bit, but then the power had gone off.
It happened frequently enough that he wasn’t surprised, but he felt sure that Riley would prefer that there be lights on when she got here. He felt the rain start on his chest and watched as the rest of the bizarre menagerie of trailer park inhabitants began exiting their rolling tin cans like a bunch of ants. Old lady Witherington, the Decharmarnel landlord, stood at the end of the street waving her hands and shouting at the complainers.
“And just what the hell should I do? Run down to the electric department and turn it back on? You people kill me. You wanna stand out in the rain, go for it. But I’m goin’ back inside and waitin’ for the lights to come on.”
Barry smirked as the residents began to slowly trickle back to their homes, grumbling all the way. They were a picky lot of people who complained about everything. Some had even started noticing the smell coming out of his deep freezer.
A while back, the Fish Company had upgraded their coolers and had sold him the massive unit at a ridiculously low price. Mostly, he used it to store food he casually stole from the place when he worked late by himself. A few filets here and a few pounds of shrimp there and nobody noticed a thing.
But the thing was faulty at best and sometimes decided to quit...for no reason. This time, the storm that had rolled through a couple of days ago had knocked it out for good. Barry had done his best to keep it closed and hopefully seal in the lingering cold. Yesterday, the smell had started. Most people didn’t mind a smell in the Outer Bank. Hell, almost everything stinks in low tide. And just about everywhere you could possibly go smelled like fish, or rotten fish. So, to get someone’s attention, an odor had to be particularly bad.
