Jed Had to Die

by Tara Sivec

  I have to rub my thighs together under the table when he brings up the cuffs, and really, he’s the one that should be under arrest for wearing nothing at the kitchen table but last night’s jeans that hang low on his hips and no shirt. Touching and kissing that massive chest and those cut abs of his the previous night with nothing but the moonlight to guide me is nothing compared to seeing it on full display in Emma Jo’s kitchen with the bright morning sun streaming through the windows. Unfortunately, my desire for Leo to use those handcuffs on me is short-lived when I remind myself that if I don’t come clean with him right now, he’ll be really pissed when he has to use them on me in an extremely boring, non-sexual way.

  “Leo, I-”

  “Knock, knock, anyone home?” a voice shouts from the front door, cutting me off right when I’d gotten up the courage to talk.

  Leo pushes himself up from the table and I follow his lead, suppressing my groan of annoyance when Starla waltzes into the kitchen with Bo Jangles in one hand and a glass baking dish in the other.

  “I see someone finally got you coffee,” Starla states with a nod of her head in the direction of the mug I’m holding in my hand. “Does that mean the crime rate in this town will go back down?”

  Leo laughs and I do my best not to vault around the table and break one of Starla’s arthritic hips by remembering what Bettie said yesterday: I need to be nice to the people of Bald Knob if I want them to like me. Instead of assaulting the old woman, I paste a tight smile on my face and keep my mouth shut before I say something I’ll regret. Like, “Fuck off, old woman. And take your ugly ass dog with you.”

  “What brings you by this morning, Starla? Can I get you a cup of coffee?” Leo asks, taking the baking dish from Starla when she holds it out to him.

  “Just bringing by one of my pineapple upside down cakes for poor Emma Jo. You make sure she gets that. I heard she went to some fancy spa with a friend of hers last night. It’s good for that girl to get out of the house and get some pampering after the sadness of the last couple of days,” Starla says with a sorrowful look on her face that makes me want to scream because people are so upset over the death of a woman abuser and all-around asshole.

  But again, I keep my mouth shut like a good girl. Damn Bettie and her stupid ideas to keep me out of prison.

  “That’s very kind of you, Starla. I’ll make sure Emma Jo knows you stopped by,” Leo tells her, setting the cake on the counter next to the sink.

  Starla stands in the kitchen staring between Leo and I and when I move to go to Baby Cecil and top off my cup of liquid courage to deal with this shit, Bo Jangles growls and tries to lunge at me out of Starla’s arms. I immediately stop and put my hands up in the air until Starla can get the damn dog to calm down.

  “Bo Jangles, that’s enough, now. I know you don’t trust that woman, but there’s no need to make a spectacle of yourself in the sheriff’s presence,” she admonishes the stupid dog, cuddling him to her chest and kissing the top of his head.

  Leo pushes away from the counter to stand next to me, sliding his hand around my back and pulling me against him. I didn’t realize how much I needed the comfort from him until I feel the warmth from his body and the strength of his arm around my waist, not afraid to show Starla Godfrey that he’s on my side in his own quiet way. And that just makes me feel like more of a jerk for not telling him about the pie yet.

  “I see the rumors are true and you’re shacking up with her,” Starla huffs, glaring at me before moving closer to Leo’s side and lowering her voice. “Are you sure you feel okay sleeping next to a murderer? Are you being held here against your will? Do you need one of those safe word things?”

  Leo chuckles softly again and I bring my cup of now-cold coffee up to my lips to once again hold my tongue.

  “Now, Starla, you know better than to listen to gossip. Payton grew up here. She’s part of Bald Knob even if she’s been gone a while, and I’d appreciate it if everyone would try to be a little nicer and give her the benefit of the doubt,” Leo explains in a kind, soft voice that makes my heart go all-aflutter and want to throw him down on the kitchen floor and straddle him right in front of Starla and her damn dog. That will give the little shit kicker something to growl about.

  “Of course, Sheriff Hudson,” Starla replies with a fake smile in my direction. “Well, I best be going. Just wanted to drop off that cake.”

  She turns to leave and stops in the kitchen doorway.

  “Oh, I almost forgot. Smells like something died outside. Don’t know what it is, but it’s awful. Might want to check that out. And while you’re at it, make sure that one was accounted for last night, you never know,” she says with a jerk of her chin my way, forgetting all about her agreement to be nice to me.

  Leo removes his arm from around me and walks Starla to the front door, while I race to Baby Cecil and start drinking enough coffee to calm my nerves and think about the best way to inform Leo that he probably slept with a killer last night and he might just need the use of one of Starla’s safe words.

  CHAPTER 28

  Recorded Interview

  June 5, 2016

  Bald Knob, KY Police Department

  Deputy Lloyd: Ma’am, this is very unprecedented.

  Starla Godfrey: A citizen of this town wants to give his statement and you’re going to deny his civil rights? I thought better of you, Buddy Lloyd, this is such a shame.

  Deputy Lloyd: Mrs. Godfrey, Bo Jangles isn’t a citizen, he’s a dog, and he can’t speak.

  Bo Jangles: RUFF!

  Starla Godfrey: That’s right, love muffin. You tell him. See? He can speak and he’s telling you he doesn’t like Payton Lambert.

  Deputy Lloyd: Ma’am, I don’t mean to be rude, but we’re in the middle of a murder investigation and I don’t have time to waste interviewing your dog.

  Starla Godfrey: You won’t think it’s a waste of time when he tells you he was a witness to a crime this morning. Go on, Bo Jangles, tell him.

  Deputy Lloyd: Ma’am I don’t-

  Starla Godfrey: Quiet down and let him speak! Go ahead, baby. Mommy’s right here. I know it’s scary and I know you’re traumatized, but you need to tell Deputy Lloyd the crime you saw this morning.

  Deputy Lloyd: Ma’am, how about YOU just tell me this alleged crime he witnessed this morning.

  Starla Godfrey: The crime is that we caught Payton Lambert red-handed taking advantage of Sheriff Hudson. I’m pretty sure he’s being held in Emma Jo’s house against his will. He wasn’t wearing a shirt. I bet she took it and burned it in the backyard just like she did with the evidence of her killing Mayor Jackson.

  Deputy Lloyd: Wait, what? What evidence? How do you know she burned evidence?

  Starla Godfrey: Well, I don’t know exactly, but I saw her carrying a white garbage bag out to the yard the night after the mayor was killed and she burned it in the fire pit at the edge of Emma Jo’s property. Seems a little suspicious if you ask me.

  Bo Jangles: RUFF!

  Starla Godfrey: See? Even Bo Jangles agrees.

  CHAPTER 29

  My morning coffee makes me feel like I’ve got my shit together. I don’t, but it feels like it.

  —Coffee Mug

  “So, you live out on your parents’ farm now?” I ask Leo, standing next to him at the kitchen sink while he helps me wash the breakfast dishes.

  Yes, I know I’m stalling, but give me a break. Confessing to a murder takes time and finesse, and I’d much rather stand shoulder-to-shoulder with a shirtless Leo when he’s sated and happy after a quickie on the kitchen table right after Starla left, then watch his face scrunch up in anger and annoyance.

  “Yep, I’ve been living there for about six years. The farm got to be too much for them to handle after a while, so I bought it from them and helped them move into a smaller home right in town. It’s hard work, but I love that house, and I love running the sweet corn stand every summer.

  Leo’s parents owned Hudson’s Sweet Corn, the best and on
ly place to get fresh corn starting in July, and one of my favorite memories growing up was going out to the stand by the road on their property to buy sweet corn for dinner. Leo’s dad always had a bunch of vintage candy he got from a place in Louisville that he sold at the stand as well. Bottle Caps, Turkish Taffy, Candy Cigarettes, those little wax bottles with the liquid in them, and a whole other assortment of awesome things that my dad always let me buy an entire brown paper lunch bag of whenever we’d go there. Mr. Hudson would throw in a few free extras for me and he’d give me a wink, much like the ones his son always gives me now. I loved the huge, old farmhouse out on Bald Knob road, and I love that Leo took it over, as well as the sweet corn business instead of selling it when his parents retired and that staple of Bald Knob will still be around for many years to come.

  As Leo’s hand slides over mine to grab a dish from me to dry, a sudden picture flashes through my mind of me standing next to Leo at the roadside stand, just like this, helping him bag up sweet corn for buyers while also selling them my coffee. Everyone is happy and smiling and Leo leans down to give me a quick peck on the lips, the vision so clear and perfect that it brings a tear to my eye.

  “Hey, are you okay?” Leo asks, bursting the bubble of my daydream.

  “Yep, just got some soap suds in my eye,” I reply quickly, rubbing my eye against my shoulder instead of using my soap-covered hands.

  Stupid daydream making me all girly and emotional. I live in Chicago, not out on a sweet corn farm with a man who can give me more orgasms than I can give myself in one sitting. My life is in Chicago. Liquid Crack is in Chicago, and I’ll be going back to that life and my business as soon as this whole Jed mess is over, as long as I’m not convicted of his murder.

  Sure, my business is going to be franchised and technically I could open up a Liquid Crack here in Bald Knob since my contract states I get first choice of all potential locations. But there’s no way anyone in this town would be all happy and smiley if I was trying to sell them coffee. They’d still hate me and be angry if I laced it with Xanax, wrapped a diamond bracelet around the cup, and gave it away for free. And let’s not forget the hot guy part of the daydream, standing next to me at the roadside stand kissing me. Just because he had a thing for me all these years, doesn’t mean he wants to keep having a thing for me for years to come. Maybe now that he’s slept with me and knows what it’s like instead of just dreaming about it, he realizes it wasn’t all he thought it would be.

  Shit. Now I’m being emotional, girly, AND feeling sorry for myself.

  Leo’s phone rings from next to him on the kitchen counter and he glances down at the screen.

  “Sorry, I need to take this really quick,” he apologizes, drying his hands on the towel and then draping it over his should before he grabs the phone and brings it up to his ear. “What’s going on, Buddy?”

  I finish washing the last few dishes and leave them to dry on another towel on the counter, listening to Leo’s end of the conversation that only consists of a few uh-huh’s, one yep, and ends with a “Be up there soon.”

  Leo disconnects the call and I turn to face him.

  “Let me guess, Buddy was calling to tell you Starla left here and raced up to the station to give an interview about how slutty I am?” I ask him with a small laugh.

  “Who knows,” he chuckles. “He just said there’s something I need to look at and to get down to the station as soon as I could.”

  He slides his arms around my waist and pulls me against him, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear that escaped the messy bun I threw it up in after we christened Emma Jo’s table.

  “You’re beautiful and sexy, and sleeping with you was better than any dream I’ve ever had. You’re far from slutty,” he reassures me, running the tips of his fingers softly down the side of my face.

  His words make me feel giggly and not sorry for myself at all anymore, which causes me to put my guard down and blurt out something stupid.

  “I should hope not, considering you’re only the third-and-a-half man I’ve slept with in my entire life.”

  Leo’s hand drops from face and I slap mine over my mouth, staring up at him with wide eyes. There’s never a good time to tell a man how many other men you’ve slept with, especially fifteen minutes after you last slept with him, and when your number is so alarmingly low that he’s going to wonder how you even knew what to do.

  “How exactly does one sleep with half a man?” Leo asks, a grin twitching at the corner of his mouth.

  “It has a little something to do with that thing you did last night. And first thing this morning. And you know what? I don’t feel very comfortable talking about this. The half-thing is a very technical numbering scale that requires a lot of math, vodka, and poor decisions that I don’t have time to explain right now,” I inform him when I remove my hand from my mouth and try to pull out of his arms so I can hide under the kitchen table and enjoy my mortification in peace.

  He tightens his hold on me and refuses to let me go.

  “So what you’re saying is, after all that math, vodka, and poor decisions, I’m only the third guy you’ve technically slept with?”

  I glare up at him and give him my best I’m not happy with you right now look.

  “Wipe that cocky smirk off your face or I’ll go down to the station and give my own report confirming that the sheriff of Bald Knob does indeed likes to sleep with a murderer.”

  And once again, I say something stupid which completely kills the mood. For me. Leo is too busy still smiling down at me all proud of himself to worry about the chaos and guilt going on in my brain. He leans his head down to kiss me and I quickly bring my hand up between us and press it against his lips to halt his progress.

  “Leo, there’s something I need-”

  “PUT YOUR CLOTHES ON! MOMMY AND MOMMY ARE HOME!” Bettie yells from the hallway as the front door slams closed.

  “Son of a bitch. What is this, Grand Central Interrupting Station this morning?” I mutter under my breath when Leo drops his arms from around me and we turn to face Bettie and Emma Jo as they walk into the kitchen.

  “My, my, don’t you look…satisfied this morning,” Bettie says with a smirk, crossing her tattooed arms in front of her while she leans her hip against the kitchen table.

  “How was your Brazilian wax last night? Did they have to call in reinforcements and order a cement truck mixer of melted wax to remove the jungle between your legs?” I ask sweetly.

  “I wouldn’t know. The entire state of Kentucky now has a wax shortage and the spa workers have PTSD after dealing with your vagina wilderness,” Bettie lobs back with her own sweet smile.

  “Alright, that’s enough, you two,” Emma Jo scolds, moving to stand between us. “What Bettie meant to say is that we’re sorry we interrupted you guys.”

  “Nope. Pretty sure I said exactly what I meant to say,” Bettie states.

  “Suck it,” I tell her, with a flip of my middle finger.

  “Are you two really friends or arch enemies?” Leo asks, pulling me against him, probably assuming I’m going to launch myself at Bettie and punch her in the face.

  “She’s one of my best friends, and I love her more than anything, duh,” I reply with an eye roll.

  “I love her more and let me just remind you, if you hurt her, I will slit your throat,” Bettie adds, emphasizing her statement by sliding her finger across her neck.

  “I’m so confused,” Leo mumbles as I pat my hand against his chest sympathetically before moving away from him to pour Bettie a cup of coffee.

  “Anyway, as I was saying,” Emma Jo continues, “we didn’t want to interrupt and we planned on sitting out on the front porch for a little while when we got home, but there is a God-awful smell outside and we couldn’t take more than a few seconds out there. It smells like something died.”

  Bettie moves next to me while I wait for Baby Cecil to spit out some golden goodness.

  “She’s not kidding. It’s rea
lly bad out there,” she whispers in my ear while Emma Jo and Leo are busy talking about whatever is outside stinking up the neighborhood. “What did you do last night, aside from ride the hot sheriff like a wild bull? Do I need to club him like a baby seal so you can dispose of more evidence?”

  “Alright, counting Starla, that makes three people who’ve complained about a mysterious smell,” Leo announces, making Bettie and I turn around to look at him. “You ladies stay here while I go out and see what it is.”

  “Fuck that, we’re going with you,” Bettie informs him, waving her arm for Emma Jo and I to follow along as Leo leads the way out of the kitchen and down the hall.

  “I’ve got a tire iron in the trunk of the rental car. Just say the word…” Bettie whispers in my ear again as we head outside, down the front porch, and make our way around the side of the house.

  The four of us traipse through the back yard, the smell getting stronger and more horrible the closer we get to the back of Emma Jo’s property, until we all have to cover our noses as we walk.

  “IF YOU FIND ANOTHER DEAD BODY BACK THERE, SHERIFF, I CAN SEND OVER BO JANGLES TO STAND GUARD AND MAKE SURE PAYTON DOESN’T TRY TO FLEE THE SCENE!” Starla shouts from the other side of her fence.

  That damn woman must have had her face plastered to the window of her house, just waiting for something to happen, with how quickly she got out to her back yard to see what was going on.

  Leo gives her a quick wave over his shoulder, otherwise ignoring her as our little group continues walking until we get to the edge of the woods that run behind all the houses on Emma Jo’s street. We don’t get more than five feet into the tree cropping and thickets before we find the source of the smell. Leo quickly puts up his arm to stop the three of us from coming any closer while he continues walking a few more feet and then stops.

  We ignore his outstretched arm and move right up next to him, gasping in one collective breath when we see what Leo is staring down at: a yellow pie plate that’s been licked clean, with two dead raccoons lying on their sides next to it.