Johnnie Finds a Dead Body

by DS Whitaker

  “Johnnie,” Cud said, “this looks like nonsense to me. You should just toss it in the trash.”

  His friend, leaning against the kitchen counter, put down the dish he was cleaning and shook his head. “No. No way. I heard that Mark guy on the phone. He’s going to search the safe deposit box tomorrow, if he can bribe the manager. There has to be something important on this thing.” He put away the dish and walked over to look at the file over Cud’s shoulder.

  “Hmm.” Cud scratched his scalp. This bit of information was not helping. In fact, if Johnnie pursued his investigation, things could go very wrong.

  “Well?”

  “I’ll tell you what, chap.” Cud closed the file and pulled out the thumb drive. “There are a few more things I could check out. Can’t promise anything. Can I take this with me and I’ll look it over at Gertie’s later?”

  John walked to his bed and chose a book off the nightstand. “You’re not going back to the beach after church?” He fluffed up a couple pillows and reclined in bed.

  “If I count myself lucky, and I do, I’m going to finagle an early Sunday supper from Gertie. I must say, I could get used to hot meals again.” He pocketed the thumb drive.

  “Sure. Sounds good.” Johnnie didn’t look up from his book.

  Cud went to the bathroom and combed his hair until the tangles dispersed. After shaving his face smooth, he washed his armpits with water and soap at the sink. That helped. His once impeccable clothes he wore to the bank were now dirty and the fabric had unraveled along the edges where they had unceremoniously cut off the pants bottoms and shirt sleeves. “Johnnie,” Cud called.

  “What?”

  “Can I borrow a clean shirt?”

  “Of course.”

  He padded out in his mismatched flip-flops and took a polo shirt from Johnnie’s pile on the clothes rack. It was emerald green, like his eyes.

  “How do I look?”

  Johnnie flipped down his book. “Fine.”

  “Okey-dokey. I’m heading to Gert’s. See you when I see you.” Cud headed out without waiting for a goodbye. He felt for the thumb drive in his pocket. If anything, he needed to find out what it was worth. Because it might be worthless, meaning all the anxiety he was feeling could be for naught.

  He rang Gertie’s doorbell.

  She came to the door wearing a blue sheath dress with a long necklace of freshwater pearls. Her aura was slightly different. Bluer today. Enlightened souls often, he noticed, matched their outer garments or accessories to their inner feelings. Blue was a color of love, emotions, spirituality. Which made sense for a church day. He hoped it also meant she had feelings for him.

  He stepped inside. “Gertie, you make the rainbows weep with envy.” He took her hand, kissing the top of it.

  She blushed. “I’ve never heard that compliment before.”

  “Hmm, I haven’t either.” He rubbed his newly smooth chin. “But it means you look ravishing.”

  “You look nice, too. The T-shirt brings out your eyes.” She gave him a side smile.

  Cud sighed. “I dare say I could look into your soulful eyes all day, but I suppose we must get going.”

  “Cudlow, I meant to ask, are you free to stay after the service and help me at the bake sale? I know this is last minute.” She walked to the counter to pick up a circular plastic Tupperware container covered in plastic wrap.

  “My dear, I can’t think of a better afternoon.”

  Gertie beamed, “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  Cud held his breath as he dared to inquire about dinner. He hoped she still had some pecan pie left. “In fact, you can have me to yourself all day in exchange for supper later.” He stepped outside and held the screen door open for her. “I loved your cooking and your company and have thought of little since. Oh, before I forget. I brought you a small something.”

  As she stood in the doorframe, he handed her the sea glass. “It isn’t much, but I wanted to repay your hospitality. Beauty for a beautiful woman.”

  Gertie balanced the Tupperware on one arm, taking the stone in the other; she held it up to examine it in the daylight. He searched her face. Did she notice the heart? He had scratched a heart shape in the center of the pebbly surfaced glass. The heart was faint, small, and misshapen, but the best he could do with his new pocket knife.

  She tilted her head and squinted. “Cudlow, are you sweet on me?”

  “Gertie, I would never be so forward.” He swallowed hard. “But, yes, I would very much like to pursue a courtship. If, by chance, you could develop feelings for someone like me.” His face felt red. Had he gone too far?

  Gertie’s wide chestnut eyes met his. She dropped the plastic container on the ground. Baked squares scattered along the grass like odd mushrooms; the circular tub rolled away from the door. She took Cud’s face in her hands and planted a kiss.

  Rockets went off in Cud’s chest. He hadn’t been touched, no less kissed, like that in ten years. Not since before his wife’s diagnosis of late stage cancer. He placed his hand on the back of her neck and returned her kiss. Was this really happening?

  After a few seconds, birds descended on the lemon squares, pecking at them in earnest, somehow unconcerned by the proximity of humans.

  Gertie broke the kiss and laughed. “See, they aren’t going to waste.”

  Cud looked at the birds. They were diminutive, gray with yellow heads. One of them bounced up and into the house. The rest of the flock perked up, glancing toward the open door, bobbing their heads sideways as if intrigued and getting ready to follow the first one’s lead.

  Gertie waved, “Come in, shut the door!”

  Cud closed the screen door tight and latched it. Their eyes followed the bird which landed on the counter, then flew to the rafters, then landed on the high ceiling fan, causing it to rotate slowly; the bird held on and stared at them, seeming to enjoy his merry-go-round ride and position of power.

  Gertie shuddered, “We need to get him out.” She yelled, “Shoo! Go bird!”

  As they stood shoulder to shoulder under the fan, the bird dropped a poo on the front of Gertie’s dress.

  Cud laughed, “He told you off.”

  “Dang.” Gertie unzipped her dress, revealing a light blue satin slip, and walked to the kitchen sink to rinse out the spot. “There’s a broom by the back door. See if you can shoo him out. But don’t let his friends in.”

  “I’ll try not to hurt him.” With the broom he swished it in the air near the fan blades, but couldn’t reach. The bird didn’t move. Cud found the wall switch, powering the fan on. The bird swooped down and flew in circles around the room. It smacked its head into the picture window. “Oh, dear. Gertie? I may have killed it.” He found it behind the sofa and cradled it in his palm.

  She padded over in her bare feet, still in her slip. “Goodness.” Gertie brushed a finger over its head. The bird opened its eyes and burst from Cud’s hand in a crazed flutter, flying into Gertie’s bedroom.

  They followed it inside and closed the door. The bird perched on her dresser mirror. Gertie opened the double-hung window facing the backyard. “Go on, shoo!”

  The yellow-headed intruder stared at them for a brief second before flying out. Gertie shut the window, closed the roller shade, and collapsed backward onto the bed. Cud took a seat beside her. With the commotion over, he surveyed the room. Her bedroom was feminine, with embroidered pillows, white-washed furniture, and a lamp with a butterfly shade. The room was cool and dark.

  Gertie sighed. “Do you believe in omens?”

  “How so?” He laid down next to her, on his side, his face several inches from hers.

  “My momma used to tell me that a bird entering your house has meaning. If it’s white, it means good news. If it’s black, it means death.”

  “But it was gray.”

  “Yes. So…what does that mean?” She stared at the ceiling.

  Cudlow chuckled, “As long as it isn’t death, I’ll take it as a good sign.”

/>   “You’re sweet.” She touched his face and kissed him.

  The kiss continued and grew in intensity.

  Her aura was red now and he felt a stir. Cud sat up. “I think we should get going.”

  “Cudlow, at our age, life is short.” She pulled on his shirt, forcing him on his back.

  “Yes, but what about church? And the bake sale?”

  Gertie wedged her body next to his and brushed his hair off his forehead. “God will understand.”

  He traced her shoulder with his fingertips. Her eyes sparkled like the moon. Prettier than any star-filled sky he’d ever slept beneath. Caressing her hair, lost in her dark irises, he said, without forethought, “I love you, Gertie.”

  She whispered, “Show me.”

  He wrapped his arms around her, every vein in his body desperate for her touch, his mind succumbing to the moment, as if he were bathing in the ocean under the midnight sky.

  It wasn’t church, but he was in heaven and felt saved.

  ***

  After Cudlow went to Gertie’s, Johnnie read a book for a couple hours, then prepped for his therapy session with Dr. Phillips. He checked his laptop’s camera and speaker. All were working. He stacked books on top of his coffee table trunk to get the right camera angle. Should he greet her with a smile? “Good afternoon, Doctor Phillips,” he practiced, assessing his image. His gummy smile looked dumb.

  It was a minute until one o’clock. He entered the online meeting. His therapist was already there, early as usual.

  She waved. “Hello, Johnnie. How are things in paradise?” She wore a plain white cotton T-shirt, no make-up and her medium-length wavy blond hair clipped up in a twist.

  Doctor Louella Phillips, Lou to nearly everyone, always started their sessions with this greeting. Perhaps it was her way of reminding him how well he had it in life. Or maybe she was a tinge jealous. It wasn’t uncommon for main landers to imagine life in the Virgin Islands was always idyllic. Still, he never knew how to answer that.

  “I’m fine.”

  The smile vanished from her face. “Your sister called me Friday. Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

  No. No, he didn’t. “Last Monday I arrived at work and found a dead guy washed up on the beach. Did my sister mention that?”

  “Robin said you had a possibly traumatic discovery. That must have been awful. Can you tell me about your feelings when you found him?”

  “I didn’t feel anything. I mean, it sucked that he died. But I didn’t know him.”

  “You’ve seen deceased people before, on deployment, right?”

  “Yep. A few.”

  “Did seeing this person—”

  “Bob. Well, not his real name. But that’s what I call him.”

  “Did seeing him remind you of the deaths you’d seen before? Bring back any upsetting memories?”

  Johnnie had to think about that one. “No. Bob was all bloated and mushy. The other dead folks I saw were skinny and bloody, and their faces were clear and recognizable.”

  “Okay, so what happened then?”

  “Not much. The next day was my birthday.”

  “Yes! Right! Happy Birthday. How was that?”

  “Good. I went to lunch with Robin. And Gertie made me a nice present.” He grinned, “Something besides a bookmark.”

  “Did you get into any altercations or expressed anger this week?”

  He recalled his interaction with Mark and the stupid teenage boys. “No. I wanted to. A couple times. A dude got up in my face. But I did all the calming exercises and it worked out.”

  “If finding a deceased person didn’t upset you, why do you think your sister is so concerned?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Lou sighed. “I normally don’t do sessions on Sundays. I think you’re holding back something important and frankly, I thought we were past this nonsense.” Lou took off her round tortoiseshell glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose. A doorbell rang in the background. “Hold on.” Lou rolled her wheelchair out of frame. He heard some voices—hers and another woman’s—and some rustling noise. After a few seconds, she rolled back in front of the computer. “Sorry, Ann got home from the grocery store and I forgot I left the deadbolt on. Now, Johnnie, why do you think Robin is so concerned?”

  “I…I don’t know. I don’t remember.” He felt sweat pour from his pits and his forehead looked shiny on the inset image on the screen. He looked like a liar, which he was, and Lou was a famously good bullshit detector. Maybe he should come clean. But the truth would still seem ridiculous.

  “We’ve talked about this. Lying to me is a one-way road.”

  A one-way road meaning a one-way ticket to another doctor. Because he had lied to her before. In fact, many times. In her frustration, she dropped him, referring him to another therapist on St. Thomas. That guy was a complete disaster, experimenting on him with combinations of medications that would stun a horse. But in his case, they led to a complete psychotic break, culminating in the ferry incident during his first year on the island. Johnnie begged Lou to take him back. And she did, but with strict conditions.

  “It’s really a stupid misunderstanding.” Johnnie rubbed the back of his neck. He recalled his embarrassment at the bank. “I’m not sick, but I don’t want to get into more trouble.”

  “If you are afraid of new medication, I promise I won’t push it.”

  “I know. If I tell you everything, you can’t rat me out, right? Doctor-client privilege and all?”

  She pursed her lips. “You didn’t kill this person, right?”

  He flipped his hands in the air and rolled his eyes. “No, come on.”

  “Then, yes. You can trust me.”

  He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. His voice seemed disembodied to himself. “I found a safe deposit box key on Bob and tried to access it at the bank, because there is this weird brother guy that isn’t like a real brother and I needed to know if the box had anything in it about why Bob was murdered.”

  She shook her head. “Okay, slow down. One more time, but I need you to breathe normally.”

  He relayed the story about visiting the bank and the bank manager calling the Chief, who then called Robin. “So, I lied to Robin about having a weird dream and now they all think I’m deranged.”

  “I see. What do you think? Do you feel deranged?”

  “Maybe a little. But more curious than unstable.”

  “Got it.” She leaned her head back and stared at the ceiling as if she was in deep thought.

  “Well, aren’t you going to say anything else?”

  She took a deep breath. “I think you’re telling me the truth. Thank you. Let me ask you a few more routine questions.”

  “Sure.”

  “Are you having any suicidal thoughts recently?”

  “I did once this week. Right after the stupid bank thing. But it left quickly.”

  Lou leaned closer to the camera. “Tell me about that.”

  “I was mad at myself. I took a swim and felt better. I didn’t try anything.”

  She appeared to be writing. “Are you sleeping and eating well?”

  “Pretty good. Robin got me Mallomars for my birthday. I ate half for dinner the other night and felt foggy in the morning.”

  “Any sleep-walking, nightmares or night terrors?”

  “No.”

  “Vision, motor skills, energy levels?”

  “Vision is the same. Motor skills fine. Energy is good, but I’m still taking mid-day naps sometimes on weekends.”

  Lou wrote a few notes in a book resting on her lap. “Are you planning—or thinking about—any more stunts like the bank visit?”

  “No. I hit a dead end. I mean, sorry. No, I don’t have any leads to follow, so that’s about it.”

  She tapped her pen against her chin. “Right. Hmm. As you know, lying to Robin is counterproductive. She’s genuinely afraid for you. How are you going to fix this?”

  Telling Robin the truth might
make her worry more. “I can’t tell her the truth about the safe deposit box key.”

  “Why not?”

  “She’d be angry.”

  “I think she’s already upset.”

  How was he going to fix this? “What if I write her a letter? Explaining?”

  “That would be a good start. Honesty is the only way to real health. Alright. I want to talk to you again on Friday to follow-up. Is four-thirty good for you?”

  “Yes, Friday. I can make it.”

  “Great. Keep up your journaling. If you hit any dark patches, call or email me. Before we disconnect, tell me three things that you’re grateful for or that made you happy this week.”

  She always ended sessions this way. Sometimes he couldn’t think of positive things when he was in a dark mood. But today, the list rolled off his tongue. “I’m grateful for you, and Cud and my new spearfishing pole.”

  Lou smiled. “I’m grateful for you, too.” In the background, Ann came up behind Lou and wrapped her arm around Lou’s shoulders, looking into the camera. Ann had olive skin, short brunette hair and a pin-up tattoo on her upper arm. “Hey, Johnnie, did Lou tell you how she did in the half-marathon yesterday?”

  Johnnie winced at forgetting, “No. I forgot you were training for that. How was it?”

  Lou shook her head. “Sorry, Ann’s always bragging on me. I came in second in the women’s pushrim division.”

  “Congratulations.” He recalled Lou won a similar event last year but not the details. When Lou wasn’t treating patients, she was in the gym pumping iron.

  Ann said, “She’s a beast.” She wrinkled her nose and made a howling noise, [RA-ROO!], then kissed Lou’s head.

  Johnnie smiled. “I worry sometimes she’s going to get on a plane and whoop my ass.” He did a mental check. Yes, that was an actual worry.

  Lou said, “Alright, enough you two. Johnnie, always a pleasure. Bye.”

  And the call was over. Johnnie let out a deep breath and flopped sideways on the sofa, staring at the ceiling. He didn’t really want to write a letter to Robin. He understood why he should, but self-reflection led to self-doubt, which led to self-pity and loathing.

  Johnnie picked up the paperback he’d been reading, a story about a young woman who was the lone survivor of a space-ship attack. The protagonist was funny and daring but, most importantly, knew who she was and what she wanted in life; in her case, seeking revenge on a band of galactic pirates.