Unraveled (17 page)

Chapter Thirty-four

The Wraith sat in the musty darkness, chewing a tasteless sandwich and hoping no one would come in to check on him. Sometimes he needed to be alone, to calm himself. If he didn't, bad things happened that he couldn't control. He finished and dropped the wax paper at his feet. Testing his work, he stepped on the wooden floor that fell out from under him like a gallows' trap door.

***

Cody was sitting on the porch, chuckling at Top's adventure and watching birds flitter around the house they'd inherited from Tom Bell. It was rare for him to be home to enjoy such a quiet afternoon. Norma Faye was in the kitchen and could tell something was bothering him because he didn't go back to the office after leaving Ned's house.

She finished the dishes and left them in an aluminum pan to drain. All the windows were open to catch the breeze and because it was still warm, she chipped ice into a glass and filled it with sweet tea.

Cody leaned back against the wall, boots propped on the top rail. The sad look in his eyes disappeared when she stepped through the screen door with the sweating glass. “That looks good and cool.”

She grinned and handed it to him. “I figured you'd be warm out here and thought this might help.”

He took the glass and she wiped the sheen of sweat on his forehead with her slim hand. She sat on the porch rail with her back against the post so she could see both the yard and Cody. “You know, babe, we've pretty well got it made here.”

He drained half the glass and sat it beside her. “You're right about that. Who'da thunk it?”

“Neither one of us four years ago.” She laughed. “I'm glad it worked out and you got me.”

“Me too.”

“I'm glad you're home this afternoon.”

“It sure is quiet out here, away from town. I wish I could work out a way to sheriff from this chair. Maybe I need to get a radio out here and then I might not have to go in.”

Norma Faye cocked her head. “You gonna tell me what's bothering you?”

“What makes you think anything's wrong?”

“Because you're talking foolish, and you're here now instead of working just like last night. That's not like you. What's wrong?”

He hesitated. “Well, John and Anna think I need to stay away from these murder investigations and let them handle it.”

“I think that's a good idea. Your job is to oversee the whole department, not go out investigating.”

“It is, but there's another reason.”

Her eyebrow arched.

“Somebody may be trying to tie me to these murders.”

“How could that happen?”

He told her about his missing pen, and his proximity to the crimes.

She was silent for a long while. “Well, we both know
you're
not killing people.”

“Sure, but it don't pass the smell test. Whoever's trying to pin all this on me has to be either a Clay or a Mayfield.”

“But why?”

“Well, I've arrested a few Mayfields, and maybe the Clays just want a scapegoat, someone to take all the attention away from them.”

“I know what a scapegoat is, but that's a lot of trouble. They can kill each other without taking the trouble to drag you into it. That seems like a stretch.”

“I agree, but John and Anna says there's some talk in town. So I'm going into the office to handle the usual, while they stay out and investigate.”

“That's the way it should be anyhow. A sheriff has people to investigate for him.”

“I feel like I need to poke around some myself.”

“Let them do it and you sit back and think. You have plenty of other sheriff stuff on your plate.”

“That's the truth.”

“What does Ned think about these coincidences?”

Cody shifted his feet on the rail, alternating them to rest one on top of the other. “He didn't say much. You know how he is, but he agreed the best thing is for me to stay here or in the office. I think that's because he can say that if anything else happens, I was in the office, or he knew exactly where I was.”

A comfortable silence stretched between them as Cody studied the shadows under the trees. His eyes roamed over the yard to the green circle of grass where Tom Bell had burned the lumber scraps while he repaired and updated the house.

A hot lump rose in Cody's throat. The old Texas Ranger appeared out of nowhere one morning to pull Cody out of a bad car wreck. They soon found he was a family member and embraced Tom Bell as he bought the house and renovated it one board at a time. When Cody trailed a gang of drug runners down into Mexico, it was Tom who once again pulled him out of the fire. Shot and dying on a dusty street, the old Ranger fought a cover action as Ned and Cody escaped. One last act came weeks later, when a packet arrived with Tom's name on it. Inside were documents providing for Top and Pepper's education, the deed to the house, and a packet of other sealed envelopes with strict directions on when to open them.

“You know, Old Tom did a good job on this house.”

Norma Faye raised her hair to cool her neck. “He did that. This is the nicest place I've ever lived and I can't believe he left it to us.”

“That was a surprise to me and Ned, too.”

“Why do you think he did that?”

“Because he was a good man, and family.”

Norma Faye left the rail and snuggled into Cody's lap. He grunted in fun and she popped his shoulder. “You know what, buddy?”

“What?”

“I'm so glad that I have a good family to be part of.”

“We're crazy and seem to attract trouble.”

“It keeps things interesting.”

He grunted. “Interesting. That's a fact.”

She bit his ear. “I know somewhere we can get more comfortable than this old straight chair.”

“I'm not finished with my tea.”

“Yes you are, and if I'm put under oath later, I can vouch for you that you were right here at home, in the bedroom.”

“Tart.”

Chapter Thirty-five

The air was so still Friday night that even the top leaves in the trees weren't moving. I went out on the porch about dusk, hoping the humidity wasn't as bad out there as it was in the house. My foot wasn't hurting much, and cabin fever was already setting in.

It didn't help. Pepper and Mark came out with me and sat in the porch light, eating ice she'd chipped off the block in the water bucket. Pepper turned on her transistor radio and we caught the last half of the Beatles singing “Strawberry Fields Forever.” She got up and went behind Mark and braided his hair. “You'll look like your ancestors when I'm done.”

“I'm not sure they braided their hair much. The movies aren't the best place to learn history.”

“It'll look good to
me
.”

Grandpa came out and started his car. The motor barely fired over before he slammed in into reverse and backed around. He popped it into gear and rolled down the drive. He waved over his shoulder, slowed at the highway, and when he saw it was clear, steered left toward Arthur City.

Uncle Cody and Norma Faye had been in the kitchen, talking. He came outside and leaned against a porch post. “What're you outlaws up to?”

“Nothing.” Pepper kept working on Mark's braids.

“I might have to take you to get that cut pretty soon.”

Mark didn't turn around. “If that's what you want.”

Pepper bristled. “Why do adults always want to cut boys' hair? You had hair down on your collar just a few years ago, before you were a lawman.”

“You're right. But I was shaggy. That's long.”

“It don't mean anything.”

“It does to some of the folks around here.”

She grunted. “That's one of the things I hate about this place. People yap and yap about things that ain't none of their business. You can't squat to pee without somebody knowing about it and telling someone else.”

“That's the truth. Top, you sure are quiet this evening.”

I'd been listening and thinking after my last dose of the Poisoned Gift. “Uncle Cody, I've been thinking about those ghosts you saw at the Ordway place.” I didn't want to talk about seeing Mama by the footlog, but it had been weighing on my mind. “You know I've seen some. Do you believe in 'em?”

He studied on that question for a minute. “Well, there's something to it. I saw spirits that night when I was a kid sure enough, and it makes me think that folks sometimes hang around after they die, but they won't hurt you none. They may even try to help in some way. I worry more about live, crazy people.”

He chuckled. “Now, you're Mama's daddy got spooked easy, by ghosts and his imagination both. They say when he lived across the creek there, he'd get scared at night if he heard something outside, especially if he'd been drinking whiskey. He'd get that old twelve-gauge double barrel in there in the closet and crack the door open and holler that if anybody was out there, they'd better get gone. For some reason, one old cedar post always made him think it was somebody that wouldn't run. So he'd holler again, telling them he'd shoot, then after a second, he'd cut loose with one of the barrels because it wouldn't move.”

Uncle Cody started laughing, and that was the first time I'd heard him that way in a long time. “I swear, you'd think he'd remember after a time or two, but he scared easy. I heard that post was shot to pieces after a few years and you could get twenty pounds of lead out of it.”

It didn't seem as funny to us, but we laughed anyway. Pepper finished with Mark's hair and sat back in her shell-back chair, Indian style. “I'm afraid of ghosts, and that old Ordway place, too. I don't want to live there.”

“I believe you. We had ghost stories when I was a kid. Ghosts near the old spring, one in Forest Chapel by a water well. You know there's a story about the hanging tree not far from Uncle Henry's house.”

“I haven't heard that one.”

He pointed down the highway. “There's a big oak just before you get to Uncle Henry's place. They call it the hanging tree. They used it back in the eighteen hundreds, when Center Springs was a good-sized town. Remember, Neal Box's store was the courthouse, and the old judge who sat in there sentenced more than one man to hang. They took 'em out to that big tree in Uncle Henry's pasture to do it.”

He jerked his head to the west. “Them old men hung folks from the big wide limb that's lowest to the ground. You can still see ghosts there by the light of the moon.”

That perked us up. “You just go up there and look?”

“No. There's a certain way you have to do it. You know, that limb grows straight out to the west. So the story goes that at midnight on a full moon, you come up from the east in single file so's the tree's between you and the limb. Then one at a time, while the others stand still, you close your eyes, put your hand on the trunk and back around it three times, real slow. Each time you have to recite some lines. Halfway around on the fourth time, you lean your back against the tree and open your eyes while them on the other side touch the tree. If it's the right night, the one who does the backing will see the ghost of a horse thief hanging there named, Shotgun Bob Goodell.”

Mark laughed. “That's a load of horse manure.”

Uncle Cody joined him. “I thought so too, but I saw the ghost when I was about y'all's age.”

“Let's do it!” Pepper jumped up.

“When?”

“Tonight.” She turned to Mark. “How about it?”

“I'm in. It's Friday night and it's a full moon. Uncle Cody, you come go with us, like you did that time you took Pepper and Top hog hunting. I've heard all about…” He stopped all of a sudden and I knew why. Even though we had fun, it happened the night all of Mark's family was murdered.

I didn't want him to feel bad, now that those old memories had come up, so I piped up. “Let's do it. You haven't been able to take us camping or nothing for a long time.”

Uncle Cody thought about it for a minute and grinned. “You know, I've been taking some time away from the office, so that'll be good for me too. Can you walk on that bad foot, Top?”

“If we go slow.”

“Well, let's do it then.” He went back inside to clear the way, and we stayed there on the porch and watched the moon come up.

All three of us were tickled to death to go on another adventure with Uncle Cody, just like it was when he was single and not a sheriff.

Chapter Thirty-six

Done for the night with one particular job, The Wraith drove down the dirt road and killed his truck in front of the house. He should have been at work, but figured he'd make one more stop before he got there. No one would notice his absence, because he was filling in for a friend and that job made him invisible to his boss.

***

Everyone has a mama, even someone who called himself The Wraith. He hadn't seen her in years and figured it was time to drop by for a visit. The dew was wet on the grass when he pulled up in the yard and killed the engine on his worn out truck.

He waited for old Rock to come barking out from under the porch. Instead, there was nothing but an owl hooting down on the creek and the chickens in the brooder house settling in for the night. The cicadas were silent, building strength for another long, hot day of singing.

The Wraith stopped at the bottom porch step as childhood memories flooded in, breathing the good country smells of cattle and grass. The porch light came on to reveal his gray-haired mother behind the screen in a faded house dress.

She held the door open with one shoulder, wiping her hands on a damp dishtowel. “Well, I declare. Look what the cat dragged in.”

He ran grease-stained fingers through his hair. “Howdy Mama.”

She pointed with a gnarled finger. “You look poor as a snake. Are all you hippies that skinny all the time?”

“I work hard. Not much time to eat, and I ain't no hippie. Where's Rock?”

“Dead. Buried over yonder.” She waved the dishtowel toward a bois'd arc tree.

“What killed him?”

“Sump'in bigger'n him. You been to supper yet?”

“Nope.”

“Well, come on in and I'll fix you a bite. I can fry you up some bacon and eggs.”

He followed her inside. The kitchen hadn't changed since he was a kid. The same battered tin pans hung on the walls. Limp gingham curtains over the window did little to improve the looks of a chipped enamel sink. He pulled out a wooden chair that creaked on the scrubbed wooden floor.

She lit the stove with a wooden match and laid a rasher of bacon in a cast-iron skillet. “Where you been living?”

“On the road.”

“They don't have razors on the road?”

He rubbed his caved in cheek, hollow on one side from several teeth knocked out in a fight four years earlier. “Saving money on razors by shaving once a day, and that was 'bout noon yesterday. It gives us a little extra to feed the baby.”

She paused without looking at him. “You get a baby?”

“I'm living with a gal who has one.”

“You're not married?”

“Nope.”

“Is it yours?”

“I done told you, the baby's hers.”

“It's a sin to live with a woman without being married to her.”

He hadn't wanted to get on that subject, and here they were in the middle of it not five minutes after coming through the door. “Well, the first time I stood in front of a preacher didn't work out, did it?”

She turned the frying bacon over. “How long you here for?”

“A day or two.”

“You smell like grease. You working on cars?”

He examined his caked fingernails and picked at a white matter caked at the edges of his nails. “I work with machinery when I'm not doing other things.”

“There's a dishpan full of soapy water right there.”

He stepped up to the warped plywood counter and dipped his hands in the lukewarm water, knowing it wouldn't help cut all the grease out from under his nails. He dried them with a damp dishtowel and sat back down.

The kitchen was quiet except for the sizzling bacon. She pushed the strips aside and cracked three eggs into the pan. “You don't need to go over there.”

He knew what she was talking about. “I just wanted to come see you.”

“When'd you say you got in?”

“Didn't for sure. A while back.”

“And you're just now coming in to see me? Ain't had a letter or a word nor a phone call in four years. I's thinkin' maybe you was gonna be like your old man and just disappear for the rest of my life.” She flipped the eggs over and reached for a clean plate from the drain pan on the counter.

He sat back out of the way for her to slip the plate onto the table. She remembered. The fried eggs were just as he liked them, crunchy on the edges, the yolk still runny.

“She's married now.”

“I know it, Betsy.”

“You call me Mama.” She poured a glass of milk and thumped it on the table. She sat opposite him and tucked a stray strand of gray-blond hair behind her ear. “It's done. Go on and live your life.”

Anger rose in his face. “When someone steals a part of you, you can't help take it back.”

“You done said yourself you got another woman and a baby. That should be enough for any man.”

“They ain't mine.” His eyes burned as he forked eggs into his mouth and chewed on the left side.

“Neither was she. Then or now. Never was. She won't go with you, even if you was to talk to her, and you for sure ain't
taking
her back.”

“Don't care. I'll make my point.”

“You said you wasn't going over there.”

Trapped, he saucered his coffee to think. “Let's talk about something else.”

She laced her fingers and sighed. The conversation stalled and she looked around the kitchen that had been her domain for forty years, searching for something to discuss with a son who had never been close. Her eyes flicked to the screen door, out past the porch light, and into the darkness beyond. “I hear tell there's a traveling carnival set up north of Powderly.”

The Wraith swallowed and cut another bite of leathery eggs. “Do tell.”