An Unmarked Grave (11 page)

"I'd like to see them"

"Like I said, they're right on the wall at Mabel's."

I sipped my coffee. "Justin called me after he got back
here. Said he'd been exploring. He find anything?"

Perry pursed his lips and with a wry grin replied, "I don't
know how. Ain't nothing out there to find"

For some reason, I said nothing of the piece of aircraft
skin Justin had mentioned. I wasn't sure why. Maybe I didn't
want to appear gullible. Or maybe I didn't want the sheriff
to know as much as I knew. "You lived around here long,
Sheriff?"

"All my life." He dropped the cigarette butt onto the wood
floor and ground it under his heel. "My pa and grandpa
before me. That's how I know it was all a hoax. When I was
six or seven, Grandpa Joe told me all about it. He said the
townsfolk got a good laugh until so many city people came
in, running over plowed fields, putting the cows off their
milk, and in general upsetting everything"

Setting my empty cup next to the pot, I thanked him. "Enjoyed our visit, Sheriff Perry. Now, who do I need to see
about getting into Justin's room?"

He pointed in the direction of the museum. "The big redbrick house on the hill behind the museum. "Marvin Lewis
lives there. He's got a few sections of land out back. He owns
the museum. Used to be a state senator way back"

After leaving the sheriff's office, I pulled up in front of
the gas pumps at Hooker's. I don't know how old the pumps
were, but they were at least a couple of generations before
credit-card pumps. The frigid north wind was merciless. I
shivered as I filled the tank.

Across the road, an old man in baggy clothes, a battered
fedora pulled down over his ears, and his coat collar pulled
up about his neck, shuffled along the shoulder kind of sideways, his back to the biting wind, his worn shoes kicking
up puffs of dust. The wind whipped his jacket around him.
After I topped off the tanks, I went inside to pay.

I groaned in pleasure at the warmth inside. Mabel Hooker
stood behind the register, garbed in a bright red sweat suit,
her gray hair pulled back into a severe bun. She recognized
me immediately. A warm smile leaped to her ruddy face.
"Well, what brings you back here?"

After I told her, she shook her head. "I didn't know the
man, but those what did said he was a real gentleman. Real
shame"

"Yeah. By the way, the sheriff was telling me about the
UFO business your little town is known for" I glanced out
the front window. The old man turned down a narrow road
heading south.

She laughed. "I suppose ever'place has to be famous for
something. Yeah. Big story back then. Every once in a while
even now it crops up, and we have a few curious sightseers
come through. That's about the only time old Marvin unlocks the museum, despite what his sign says"

"Sheriff said you had a letter and a newspaper article
about it on your wall," I said, glancing around the store.

She indicated two framed documents on the wall beside
the front door. "That's them right there. The mayor back then,
Jim Bob Houston, wrote the letter to the editor of the Dallas newspaper that had printed a story about the spaceship.
Seems Jim Bob's granddaddy, Jake, was one of them what cooked up the scheme. The story I always heard was that
Elysian Hills was dying, so one day when Jake was drinking with A. B. Smith and Howard Nash, both town councilmen, they cooked up the scheme. Way I hear, there was a
big commotion for a few months"

I laughed. "I can imagine."

Wandering over to the framed documents, I read them.

The article from the Dallas Morning Telegram was dated
April 19, 1897.

... About six o'clock this morning the early risers of
Elysian Hills were astonished by the sudden appearance of an unusual airship. Evidently some of the machinery was out of order, for it was making a speed of
only ten or twelve miles an hour and gradually settling
toward the Earth. It sailed over the public square, and
when it reached the north part of town, it collided with
the tower of Judge Lewis' windmill and went into pieces
with a terrific explosion, scattering debris over several
acres of ground, wrecking the windmill and water tank
and destroying the judge's flower garden. The pilot of
the ship is supposed to have been the only one aboard,
and, while his remains were badly disfigured, enough of
them were picked up to show that he was not an inhabitant of this world.

I couldn't help chuckling when I finished the news article.

The second document, the mayor's letter, dated sixty
years later, was on Elysian Hills letterhead and signed by
the mayor.

November 16, 1957

Dear Mr. Wilson,

Recently, your paper ran an article about the UFO in
Elysian Hills in 1897. This letter is to inform you and
your readers that the story was a hoax, perpetrated by
three local citizens.

As mayor of our beautiful city, I feel I am obligated to
notify you of this matter. I regret any problems our citizens might have created.

Being an ex-English teacher, I raised an eyebrow in appreciation at the succinct letter. Mayor Jim Bob Houston
must have had a pretty fair secretary.

From behind, Mabel laughed. "Now you see what we're
so famous for."

Turning back, I chuckled. "Makes for a good story. This
Jim Bob Houston, he still around?"

A sly grin played over her ruddy face. "Reckon he's another one of them mysteries all towns got"

Her reply piqued my curiosity. "Oh? What sort of mystery?"

She chuckled and began restocking the cigarettes above
the register. "About thirty years later, around eighty-six, he
just up and sold out. Moved up north. Never told a soul. I
was about-let's see.." She hesitated and gave me a sly
grin. "Well, how old I was ain't no matter."

I chuckled.

She continued. "I always figured it was kinda strange.
Should have expected something, I guess. His wife had left
him a couple years before. I suppose he was ready to move
on. He never had no children. All he had was five or six sections of land. What with cattle and a few oil wells getting
ready to come in, it brought him a pretty penny, so he never
was hurting for money. Heard later, he set up some trusts for
needy folks up north around Chicago." She shrugged. "Don't
know for certain, but that's the word what come back."

I thought nothing of her remarks at the time. "This Marvin Lewis who owns the museum. Any kin to the judge in
the article?"

"His grandson. In fact, Marvin is the one who bought out
Jim Bob. He sold part of Jim Bob's acreage to the sheriff
and Buck Ford"

I glanced out the window at the museum east of us. It was
built into the side of a hill like the old dugouts of a couple
hundred years back. "Not much business over there, huh?
Why does he keep it open if the whole thing was a hoax?"

Mabel came to stand beside me, peering out the window.
"Probably because Marv don't believe it was a hoax."

looked down at her in surprise. "You mean ..."

She arched an eyebrow. That's when I noticed that her eyes
were almost the color of turquoise. She must have been a
knockout when she was younger. Even now, take her hair
out of the bun and put her in something besides baggy red
sweats, and she would make a striking picture. "Yep. Marv
claims his grandpa told him that there was a space pilot, just
like the story says. They buried him in an unmarked grave at
the cemetery so no one could dig him up"

"So, with Justin Chester living in a room at the back of
the museum, he and Marvin Lewis must have hit it off. I
mean, with both of them believing in the UFO business."

Mabel laughed. "You got that right. Two peas in a pod.
I don't know about Justin, but Marv . . " She hesitated,
searching for the right words. "Marv has always been one of
those what never fit in. It's of his own choosing, of course.
He never ran with the crowd, always saw things different. Sometimes I thought he was being contrary just to be contrary. Someone call a color black, he'd call it red just to be
different." She frowned up at me. "Know what I mean?"

A wry grin twisted my lips. I knew the kind. Those who,
Thoreau wrote in Walden, hear a different drummer. "Exactly."

She hastened to add, "Now, Marv's a good man. Contrary he is, but that contrariness sure helped us out when he
represented us in the state legislature back in the eighties."

I arched an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Gesturing to the oil wells in the pasture across the highway, she explained, "There was some problem with mineral
rights ownership back then. The state insisted it belonged to
them because the mineral rights were not included in the
Spanish land grants or some falderal like that, but Marv
straightened them out" She chuckled. "Good and proper, so
around here, we just kind of overlook his peculiarities. If he
wants to believe in UFOs, let him"

I studied the museum. "How old is that place?"

She grunted. "It's been there as long as I can remember.
When I was a kid, we played on it. The roof had caved in.
All that was standing were the walls. Then, about fifty years
ago, Marv roofed it."

"What kind of stuff does he have in there?"

She snorted. "Junk. Pieces he claims came from the
spaceship, but they're just pieces of old busted up farm machinery. Every once in a while it draws some poor sucker
tourist in"

"Were you here the night Justin wrecked?"

"Just finished cleaning up. About eight or so, maybe a little after. Buck Ford come banging on my door something fierce for the phone so he could call the sheriff. His cell battery was dead" She chuckled. "I was surprised he got Gus"

I frowned at her. "Oh? Why's that?"

"Gus almost didn't have time to get home. He'd come by
here not five minutes before. He's got a place several miles
out"

"Did you go down to the wreck?"

"Heavens, no. I see enough bad things on TV. I got no interest in seeing the real thing"

"Where did the accident happen?"

"See that gravel road on the other side of the highway
there, just across from the Christian church? That's Cemetery Road. About a mile down it makes a sharp S curve
before reaching the old bridge. Justin went through the fence
just before the curve and hit a big oak before going into
the creek"