They Call Me Crazy (11 page)

She was right, though. They make me feel better. Their innocent faces, all different, all small and fragile, remind me of why I joined the Army in the first place. When the bad memories come, I look at them and remember.

Grace peeks around the door. “You up?” Seeing me sitting in the bed, she walks in. She’s carrying a cup of coffee with steam rising from the top.

“Is the paper here yet?” I try to read the
Joplin Globe
before I get dressed in the mornings. Then I have something to think about while I’m in the shower.

Grace nods. “I don’t really think you want to read it today. You know what’s in there. You got enough to worry about, Chief.”

She’s right. I don’t want to read it.

“Drink your coffee. Breakfast is almost done, and I’ll bring it to you.”

“Breakfast in bed? Did I do something last night that I can’t remember this morning?”

She leans down and kisses the tip of my nose. “It’s going to be a long day, Chief.”

The timer on the stove dings, and Grace bounces out to go to the kitchen. Her small hips sway back and forth just enough to raise her short nightshirt and give me a peek of her behind. Once she’s out of sight, I lean back on my pillow and turn toward the dresser. A baby doll figurine with short brown hair stares back sadly. She’s unmarked, so I don’t know her name. I know she’s very old. For some reason, she reminds me of Cass Adams this morning.
No.
I can’t be soft. I’m the chief, and I’m running for sheriff.

I’ve known Cass since we were kids, so I’ve also known Roland.
Rolly Adams.
I gave him that name in grade school. He was a little pudgy, and I knew he hated it, so I made sure to call him that every day. Nobody uses it any more, except Clay.

I never liked Rolly much in school. I hate to admit that I was jealous, but maybe I was. He did whatever he pleased and never seemed to take any flack for it. In high school, he strutted through the halls, arrogant as hell, making jokes and flirting with the girls. Not when Cass was around, of course. I can’t say he was stupid.

I thought sooner or later it would all crash down on him: Principal Mahoney would figure out who spray-painted the mustaches on the lion statue out front of the school, Coach Hall would catch him at the peephole to the girls’ locker room, or Cass Adams would find him in the backseat of some other girl’s car. But none of that ever happened.

When I got back from the Army, he and Cass were married and living in a small white house in the middle of town. I didn’t pay him any attention since I never really had much contact with either one. They stayed out of my jail and off my radar.

But once he started working at Tina’s, I saw him quite a bit. Or
used to see
him, I should say.
Shit.
I still can’t believe she killed him.

But he’s lying in the morgue. Dead.

Grace returns with a tray of food. She must sense something off about me because she sets my breakfast on the nightstand, leans close, and whispers, “It’s okay, you know. Remember, we all have demons. They can make us do some strange things.”

Roland Adams acted the part of king cock at the club, and for all I know, he was. Tina told me he was her best bouncer, and she counted on him to keep the place straight and watch out for the girls. She seemed satisfied that he was doing right, and I trusted her judgment.

But what happens at work and what happens when a man goes home at night are two different things. Maybe Tina’s ace bouncer turned into Cass’s demon somewhere along the highway on the way home. I might never know.

Chapter Seventeen

Clay

I
like my job: being around the customers all day, helping them find what they need, being able to help someone in some small way. It’s just busy work, but I enjoy it.

When I first got back from the Army, Mr. Logston was the one who gave me a job. This is a small town, and it didn’t take long for the rumors to fly about why I only stayed in the military for two years, but Logston didn’t care. He knew I was clean, and he was willing to give me a chance. I proved to be a hard worker, and he kept me on, regardless of the rumors.

I used to try to defend myself when I was younger. I got in a few fights, trying to prove that I wasn’t gay. Once I even stripped down to nothing to show that I had not been shot in the balls. But as I got older, I just let people talk. Eventually, they found other things to gossip about and quit worrying about me.

Working at Logston’s gives me something to do, and in the past sixteen years, I haven’t missed one day of work. I’ve come in sick, I’ve worked overtime when needed, and I only take vacation time when I’m forced. Hell, I rarely even ask to leave early, and I always try to schedule my appointments around work. Work is my life.

I don’t make much, but living in Deacon doesn’t take much. I built my house with the help of a few friends who owed me favors. It sits on the land my mother left when she passed, where the Econoline trailer that Rolly and I grew up in used to be parked. I guess the whole lot is mine now. Or maybe half belongs to Cassie. I don’t know how that works. Right now, all I want to do is be at work, talking about bait or bathroom fixtures or kitchen cabinets.

Ten minutes after I clock in, however, I realize that this is going to be one of those days when I will have to leave early. As soon as the doors open, ten people file in and make a beeline for my counter. Pet Harper is leading the crowd, and I hurry to the back before he has a chance to open his mouth. They’re interested in one thing—the one thing I came to work to get away from. Logston understands and sends me home. He says having my brother murdered earned me some personal sanity days.

Benny will be looking for me this morning. He’s a smart guy, and I know he’s been thinking all weekend. I could tell from the way he eyed me that night at Tina’s and how he was very careful with what he said at the police station. He clinched it when I went to visit Cassie yesterday in jail and he just nodded as if he had expected me to show up there.

Some things are just too easy. Cassie killing Rolly, for example. Too easy, too simple, too much evidence to say anything else. But Benny knows that things that seem easy usually aren’t. I don’t know what the hell is going on, but this one is far from easy.

I haven’t been home thirty minutes when tires rumble up the gravel drive. I have to smile. It’s all so predictable. I’ve had just enough time to make some coffee and dig out my Army records.

Benny and I went into the Army under the buddy plan, so it’s only fair that after all this time, it’s him that I am going to spill to about my discharge. I don’t have to talk about it. It’s no one’s business. But I know Benny wants to know why I’m so friendly with my brother’s killer. Rather than tell him I’ve always been in love with her, I think it’s time to enlighten him about what a real asshole my brother was. The best way I know to do that is by telling him about my discharge.

I open the door before he can knock. He starts talking immediately, not waiting to see if I was surprised or happy to see him.

“Mornin’, Clay.” He touches his hat and nods. “Logston said you came home from work. Don’t know that I’ve ever seen you miss a day.”

I let him in and point toward the couch. Two fresh cups of coffee sit on the end table, as well as my Army records.

“You expecting someone?” he asks.

“You.”

My calm demeanor seems to throw him off guard. He shuffles a bit, then takes off his hat and sits. He’s used to instilling a little bit of fear in people, if not for his size then because of his position.

“Why would you be expecting me?” He takes a sip from his coffee. His eyes alternate between me and the manila envelope on the table. Benny motions toward the packet, its label clearly visible: United States Army. “You always got that lying around?”

“I got married, Benny, in the Army.”
Start talking. It will come.

“Married?”

I comb my fingers through my hair and grab a handful.
Talk.
“Only for six months, and it wasn’t something I wanted to talk much about after she died.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. But they don’t usually let you out of the Army because your wife died. Unless, of course, you killed her.”

I lean my head back, still holding a fistful of hair, and let out a long sigh. I don’t know if I’m ready for this or not.

“Clay, please tell me you didn’t kill her.”

I pick up the envelope and hand it to him. “You want some spice cake? I got plenty.”

He sits there for a minute, holding the envelope. “I’m sorry about Roland.” Then he turns it over and opens the small clasp.

Sorry about Roland.
Nice that someone is. I get up and walk into the kitchen. The spice cake is already on the counter, so I grab a plate from the drainer and make sure I cut Benny a large piece. Back in the living room, I set the cake on the table in front of him and refill our coffee cups.

Benny still has the file open, but he didn’t look as if he had read past the top page. “So you got a medical discharge for depression after the death of your wife. It doesn’t say nothin’ about you killing her.”

“There’s plenty more in there.”

“I really don’t know what this has to do with Cass Adams.” He slips the papers back in the envelope, hands it to me, and reaches for his spice cake.

I set the envelope back on the table and think about letting it go back into the hiding place where it’s been for all these years.
No.
“We got married too quick. I didn’t know her that well. I guess you could say I was lonely, being away from home and all, and she was there. Not much of a reason, I guess, but hell, I was twenty-four years old. We weren’t married but six months, and I came home one day and found her on all fours, blowing a master sergeant right there in our living room.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Yeah, she laughed about it. I knew she snorted some, but I swear, as goofy as that woman got, she must have been doing a hell of a lot more than coke. She said, ‘Well, if this is Tuesday, this must be Jim,’ or something equally as stupid. She was a real class act. I’m glad I never brought her home to meet my mother.

“Anyway, I sent her packing that night. She said she had nowhere to go, but I didn’t care. I gave her one of my backpacks and told her to load what she could and send me an address to forward the rest of her stuff. I swear I’d have killed her myself if she’d hung around any longer. She begged me to let her stay, said she’d do anything. But she needed to get out of my path. And finally, she did.

“She was found in an alley about a mile off base. She’d been beat up pretty bad—raped, cut, all the worst stuff you hear about on the news.” I gulped. Just saying it brought back the sight of her lying on the coroner’s table, a stranger with my last name.

Benny shuts his eyes and rubs his temples. “You didn’t have nothin’ to do with that, Clay. Things happen.”

He’s not going to understand unless I tell him everything. “Rolly was the only one who knew about it. After all, he was my brother, so who else would I tell that story to, right?”

Benny raises an eyebrow, but he doesn’t say anything.

I stand up and start pacing back and forth in front of the coffee table. “You know what my brother’s first reaction was? He
laughed
. Yeah, I tell him my biggest secret, one that will haunt me for all my days, and he laughs.”

“I’m sorry. I—”

“Oh, that isn’t the worst. Sixteen years, Benny, and he wouldn’t let me forget. He said things to me like ‘You really know how to treat a woman,’ or ‘Maryanne will blow you like a master sergeant if you ask,’ or ‘You should have killed the bitch yourself.’ I swear, Benny, there were times when I wanted to kill
him
myself.”

Benny looks down into his cup and takes a sip, though I’m sure the coffee has gone cold. “I never saw that side of him.”

“I know. Rolly had a way of making everyone think he was a great guy. But to those he was closest to, he wasn’t always so great. He was downright cruel. And honestly, what was I going to do? Take it, or kill him. Only way to shut him up.”

He squints at me. “What are you saying?”

“If he could do that to his own brother, imagine what he was capable of doing to Cassie.”

Benny’s cell phone rings. He pulls it out and looks at the screen. “Sorry, I gotta take this.”

I settle back down on the couch, silently cursing Rolly as I imagine the things he would have said to Cassie.

“Yes, you do have to give him what he needs… if he’s got the papers. What’s the problem?”

I know he is talking about Cassie, but I have no idea to whom. His face turns three shades of red as he listens.

He takes a deep breath. “Thanks for telling me. Yep, give it all to him, and keep your mouth shut about this.” He disconnects the call and reaches for his hat.

“Is Cassie okay?” I ask.

“She’s fine. But I gotta get going. I appreciate you telling me your story, and I’m real sorry. But even if Roland was a complete asshole, it didn’t give her any right to kill him.”

“He was a manipulative, sadistic bastard. I’d bet my worm farm she had her own reasons, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let anyone treat her as if she’s a heartless, cold-blooded killer.”

He stares at nothing for a minute, his lips pursed. Without a word, he stands and walks out the door.