An Unmarked Grave (19 page)

At that moment, a pair of headlights came over the hill
from Rayford. Holding my breath, I watched as the small
vehicle passed the cemetery, bounced over the bridge, and
disappeared around the S-curve. I couldn't identify the make,
but there was enough moonlight to see that it was a small
white vehicle.

"A couple of kids looking for a lovers' lane, huh?" Jack
chuckled.

I didn't laugh. Lester Taggart was foremost on my mind.

Before we reached Rayford, we tossed the shovel and pick
out of the pickup. At a carwash off 1-35, we washed down
my Silverado, making sure no soil remained on the tires or
body. Then we cleaned out the interior. Unless I was mistaken, someone might be paying us a visit in a few hours, and
I was very curious about who that someone might be.

I was mistaken. No one came to see us, so midmorning
Jack and I headed back to Elysian Hills. I wanted to talk
to Marvin Lewis and Mabel Hooker. I wasn't really sure
just what I was trying to do, but the more I considered the circumstances of Justin's death, the more convinced I was
that he had been murdered.

But why? What was the motive behind his death? It
couldn't have been merely because of the UFO business.
There was no evidence of the spaceman's grave's being recently disinterred, but could Justin have put together a sound
enough theory of the contents of the grave that drove someone to kill him before he could expose them?

I pondered the theory, then pushed it aside for one that
made more sense, one that was supported by the grid he had
drawn. He was killed simply because he had discovered the
location of the grave. And whoever had placed the grisly
contents into the grave twenty years earlier had to stop Justin
Chester from digging them up.

One thing was certain: the remains in the grave did not belong to a three-foot spaceman, which, like it or not, supported
Harlan Barton's assertion that the community had not buried
the dead pilot. I refused to give any credence to the remainder of his assertion that they had turned the spaceman
loose-or that one had ever existed, for that matter.

As far as I was concerned, the burial of an empty coffin
was part of the hoax being perpetrated by the townsfolk. The
only fact I clung to was that the remains down in the casket
were those of a human, a human of this earth.

That was the most sensible idea I could come up with. But
who was the killer? The only two people involved in Justin's
death about whom I had questions were Sheriff Gus Perry
and Buck Ford.

Perry had claimed he didn't recognize Justin's name. Yet
he had recently run a criminal check on the man. In a small
hamlet like Elysian Hills, criminal checks had to be the subject of gossip for at least a month. And how could the
sheriff have not seen Justin riding his bicycle on his daily
commute to and from the school? He rode past the sheriff's
office twice a day.

And then there was Buck Ford, who had lied about spotting the pickup. Even if he had been elsewhere on the road,
the gully was too deep to see it from anywhere other than
the bank.

I figured that maybe the only way I could find my answers
was to pick the memories of the old-timers in Elysian Hillsgently, of course.

Mabel Hooker was first, then Newt Gibons, then Marvin
Lewis.

The morning had dawned cold, and as the day passed,
the weather grew colder. Heavy, gray-ribbed clouds scudded overhead, promising rain or snow.

Wearing a Dallas Cowboys' Windbreaker over her gray
sweat suit, Mabel Hooker grinned at us as we rushed in.
"Morning, boys. Getting cold out there. Makes a body feel
alive."

I shivered and rubbed my hands together briskly. "You can
have it. All I want to do is stay curled up under half a dozen
blankets on mornings like this. Give me warm weather and
sandy beaches anytime."

"I don't know about you, Tony, but I could do with some
coffee," Jack said, heading to the counter where the pot sat
simmering. "Want some?"

"Yeah. Black" While he was pouring coffee, I nodded
toward Cemetery Road. "Sad thing about Harlan Barton.
Any word on when the funeral will be?"

She shook her head. "Nope. Sheriff said you was with
him when he had the heart attack"

"He was fixing to take us out to his old barn. It hit him as
soon as he opened the back door"

A grimace wrinkled her weathered forehead. "Poor old
soul. He never hurt nobody. I always felt sorry for him.
Didn't have nothing or no one. I'd invite him for Thanksgiving and Christmas. Sometimes he'd come, but most of
the time he didn't. I'd usually end up taking him a covered
plate" She paused. "That old barn of his must be falling
down. What was he taking you out there for?"

I shrugged. "He was one of those UFO people like Justin.
I guess that's why they hit it off. He wanted to show us something, but he died before he had the chance"

At that moment, Jack returned with our coffee.

"Show you something?" She snorted. "Now, what would
that old rascal have out in that falling-down barn to show
you?"

Jack started to reply, but I cut him off with a lie. "No
idea."

Jack and I had taught together at Madison High School
in Austin. I taught English, he coached, but just because
he was a coach didn't mean he was dumb. He knew I had
lied, but he also knew I had a reason. He grunted. "Yeah.
We never got a chance to see what he wanted to show us"

I changed the subject. "When I was talking to Mr. Barton,
he said something puzzling" I thumbed through my note
cards until I found the one for which I was searching. He said,
`On the surface, Elysian Hills looks like a simple little community, but there is a dark side that not many ever see.'" I
frowned at her. "What do you think he meant by that?"

She studied me for several moments, her ruddy face contorted in concentration, her unpainted lips pursed. "I don't
know what he could have been talking about. The only
thing exciting around here lately was Justin Chester. Before
that, I suppose the only scandal was when Jim Bob's wife
run off" She paused, her eyes narrowing slightly. Lowering
her voice, she added, "There was talk she'd been fooling
around with one of the local men. Nobody ever found out if
it was true or not. Or if they did, they never said nothing"

I sipped my coffee. "When was that? Remember?"

Her eyes clouded in concentration. "Let's see. Eighty-three
or so. I remember because that was the last year Elysian
Hills had all twelve school grades in one building. I used
to have a lot of after-school business, but when the seventh
through twelfth grades moved to Reuben, I lost it all" Her
eyes began to clear as her memory came rushing back. "It
was in the spring, because we were all getting ready for the
Easter parade down on the highway that we held every year.
Sara Ann was her name" She laughed. "Lord, that was juicy
gossip back then"

"So it was around that time that Jim Bob sold out, huh?"

"No, a couple years later, and then he left town" She hesitated, frowning. "There was some kind of confusion with
the land, but," she added with shrug, "I don't remember what.
They got it all straightened out, because after Marv bought
Jim Bob's land, he sold Gus and Buck a couple sections
each. That surprised a lot of us"

"Surprised? How's that?"

She laughed and gestured out the window. "You know
how small towns are. "Folks get their feelings hurt. Buck and
Marv never cared for each other. Family problems from way back. Hard feelings ever since, but they don't let it influence
business"

I nodded to the oil wells dotting the rolling countryside. "I suppose they got the mineral rights with the land, huh?"

She shrugged. "Probably. Marv's got all he needs, but I
can't say for sure"

As we drove down the highway to the automotive shop,
Jack surveyed the wide-open country surrounding us. "I don't
know how anyone can live out here, Tony. It's the most forsaken and desolate country I've ever seen"

Laughing, I replied, "You're just used to all the pine and
cedar back in our neck of the woods, that's all. It's pretty
much like this in parts of Louisiana except we have a few
more swamps and alligators"

Newt Gibons had closed the large bay doors against the
north wind. On either side of the shop, portable heaters
blasted warm air into the cavernous room. The wind rattled
the doors.

When Newt heard the door open, he pushed himself out
from under a truck on a wooden crawler. The wheels clattered on the concrete floor. He sat up, wiping the grease from
his hands. He was just as curt as he had been the first day.
"What can I do for you?"

I hooked a thumb over my shoulder. "I just came from
Hooker's. Mabel said you might be able to help me" The last
was a lie.

He eyed Jack skeptically, then shrugged as he climbed to
his feet. "If I can"

"When I was talking to Harlan Barton yesterday, he said something puzzling." I pulled out the card and read it. `On
the surface, Elysian Hills looks like a simple little community, but there is a dark side that not many ever see.'" I
looked up at him. "Any idea what he meant by that?"

Gibons studied me for several moments. Finally he replied
in a drawl, "Harlan had hisself quite an imagination. Me, I
don't think much about what goes on except in my shop and
out at my place. Them that try to play their little tricks are
welcome, as long as they don't play them on me."

Jack frowned up at me. I shrugged. Newt Gibons was just
about as enigmatic as Harlan Barton had been. "What kinda
tricks?"

He pursed his lips and shrugged. "Probably the same kind
as they play back in the city where you come from"

Figuring I would get nowhere with this line of questioning, I changed the subject. "Mabel mentioned that Sara
Ann Houston left her husband"

A twinkle came to his eyes. "She didn't lie about that."

"And then she said Jim Bob up and left town a few years
later."

The twinkle in his eyes grew hard. "Well, sir, I suppose
there's leaving town, and then there's leaving town."

Jack furrowed his brow. "What do you mean by that?"

"Just what I said. Some folk leave town one way, and some
the other."

Jack and I exchanged looks, each knowing the other was
thinking about the bones in the grave from the night before.

studied the slight man for several moments while trying
to frame my question. "Did Harlan Barton ever say anything to you about the spaceman's grave at the cemetery?"

A sly smile played over his lips. "Old Harlan told everybody about the spaceman"

"Do you think the spaceman is buried there?"

He chuckled. "I don't think there ever was one. Big joke.
Letter over to Hooker's says so"

"Did the town ever hear from Sara Ann Houston after
she left?"

"Not as far as I know."

"What about Jim Bob? He left town later. Mabel said
there was some confusion over the land. Happen to know
what she meant?"

"Nope"

"Did you know Jim Bob well?"

Finally he smiled. "He was a good man. Paid his bills on
time. When he was mayor, he helped me get started here.
I drove him to the hospital when he busted his leg" He
touched his fingers to his left thigh. "Right here. Sawbones
at the hospital didn't set it right. It was crooked"

"Ever hear from him after he left town?"

The smile faded. "No, and that wasn't like old Jim Bob.
That's what I meant earlier. The way he left wasn't like him.
No good-byes, no nothing. Here one day and gone the next.
Not a word to his friends. Never could figure out how an old
country boy could just up and leave all of this behind. Just
look at this country. Have you ever seen anything as pretty
and peaceful?" I couldn't see Jack, but I knew he was rolling
his eyes at Newt's assessment of Elysian Hills.

"You think something might have happened to him?"

He eyed me suspiciously. "Did something?"

I gave him a crooked grin. "I've no idea. I'm just asking."