Jason Deas - Benny James 03 - Brushed Away

Chapter 1

The houseboat rocked. Benny popped up from his nap. Peering out the window, he saw a speedboat breaking the “no wake” rule. Benny wondered where the boat might be coming from in such haste. He plopped back down in bed. Benny’s head ached. His girlfriend of a year and a half, Rachael, had dumped him with no warning for a chance at an international media gig in London. After her call, Benny had four too many drinks.

Benny heard feet pounding down the dock and knew he was needed. Fists rained down on his door.

“Get out here now, Benny,” yelled the marina owner Donny.

Benny ran to the door and pulled it open.

“Something sick happened at Rene’s.”

“What?”

“Somebody hung a painting of blood.”

“What do you mean it was made of blood?”

“Instead of using paint, the artist used blood.”

“How did they get inside?”

“The person didn’t break in, they did it while Rene was open. They did it this morning. I guess the employees were in the back or something and the guy hung it and left.”

“Did Rene call Vernon and Chuckie?”

Benny had a history with the Chief of police, Chief Charles “Chuckie” Neighbors. Benny was not a big fan of his ability to try women on like clothes.

“You know Chuckie,” Donny said, “he threw up when he saw the blood.”

Not only was Charles a man-whore, he was also one of the worst lawmen in the country. Benny had worked a previous case with him and he had thrown up all over one of the crime scenes.

“Contaminated the scene again?”

“He did.”

“Is Vernon there?”

“Yeah. He asked me to get you. He said you wouldn’t answer your phone.”

Vernon was the backbone of the Tilley police department. He handled all things above speeding tickets and petty crimes. Tilley, Georgia was a very small town and not used to things out of the ordinary. A couple years back, the town had exploded onto the national scene with a case that grabbed the country’s attention, but since the case had been solved it had slowed back down to a sleepy dot on the map.

“You smell like a brewery,” Donny said cupping one hand over his nose.

“I have to brush my teeth and I’ll be on my way.”

Benny arrived at Rene’s ten minutes later. A small crowd had gathered outside the restaurant. The waiters, waitresses, and patrons were on the front patio giving statements to deputies. One of the young waitresses was convulsed with emotion and Benny got down on one knee in front of her.

“Listen here, doll. Everything’s going to be OK.” Benny carefully put one hand on her shoulder. “Are you scared?”

“Yes.”

“It’s normal. You’ve been a part of something frightening. My name is Benny James.”

The young waitress looked up.

“I know who you are.”

“I’m going to find whoever did this. I promise you that.”

“OK.”

“I’m going inside now to take a look. Are you going to be OK?”

“I think so.”

“I think so, too.”

The young waitress grabbed Benny’s neck and gave him one of the strongest hugs he had ever experienced. Benny hugged back and felt her relax. When he let go her crying had stopped.

“My mom was supposed to pick me up after my shift and she’s not answering the phone. My shift wasn’t supposed to end for five more hours.”

“If you don’t get her on the phone by the time I come out, I’ll give you a ride home. What’s your name?”

“Angel.”

“Really?”

“My parents were, are, hippies.”

“All right, Angel. Don’t fly away.”

An officer was guarding the door and let Benny enter the restaurant. Inside, Chief Neighbors sat at a table nursing a Sprite, still looking nauseous. Vernon had his face about an inch from the painting with his back to the entrance.

“Is tonight the opening for the blood and guts series?” Benny joked.

Vernon turned, looking like he might follow Chief Neighbor’s lead and throw up as well. He swatted flies away from his face. A swarm of them had recently found the painting.

“How can you make jokes?”

“Vernon, I know you don’t want to believe it, but this is just another day at the office for me. I might have to find myself another sleepy town to retire in if this keeps happening.”

Chief Neighbors took a deep breath and looked up from his Sprite. “How can we be sure that it’s blood?”

“Do you usually throw up when you see red paint?” Benny asked. “Do flies like red paint? This is fresh, Chuckie. I know you haven’t seen or smelled much blood in your life, but this is blood. I can assure you of that.”

“Would it kill you to call me Chief?”

“It might.”

“I heard you call me Chief Asshole behind my back.”

“Who told you that?”

“I heard you say it once.”

“Oh.”

“What would it take from me to get you to stop that?”

“Ten days.”

“What do you mean by ten days?”

“Remember the last murder case you had in your town? You gave Vernon and me ten days to solve it before you requested outside help. Give us the same deal and I will never call you Chief Asshole again.”

“Deal,” Chief Neighbors said.

“Deal.” Benny grabbed his hand to authenticate the gentleman’s agreement.

“How do we even know a crime has been committed?” Chief Neighbors asked. “I don’t think it’s a crime to paint with blood and nobody broke in the café.”

“There is a body that goes with this,” Benny said. “Don’t you think so Vernon?”

“Oh yeah. I’m no art critic, but those strokes show real anger. Somebody is definitely dead.” Vernon held his breath and took another close look at the canvas. “The artist wrote all over here with a pen or marker. Look at all these tiny numbers. He wrote the number four all over the place.”

Benny arched his neck toward the painting and narrowed his eyes. “He must have written the number four on here a hundred times or more.”

“What do you think it means?” Vernon backed away again from the painting.

“I have no idea, but let’s cover all our simple bases first. Somebody needs to check room four at the Lakeside Motor Inn and the Tuck ‘Em Inn. I don’t know if storage units have numbers on them, but if they do we need to look inside of the ones labeled four.”

“Mile marker four is by a pretty heavily wooded area,” Vernon said. “Somebody needs to check the woods around there.”

Chief Neighbors piped in saying, “The campground has site numbers. I think I might have had a little tryst on that exact site. Stay away from the picnic table.”

“I guess you’re feeling better?” Benny asked.

“I think it was Katrina or her sister Cameron. We were in the tent the whole time, except of course when we were on the picnic table.”

“Chief,” Benny said. “We’re working a case here, not reminiscing about your exploits.”

“Of course.” Chief Neighbors stood up. I gotta go call Katrina or Cameron, or both. I hope they didn’t get married since the last time I saw them.”

“Doesn’t really matter does it?” Benny asked.

Chief Neighbors didn’t get the shot Benny had just taken at him as he answered, “I don’t guess it does. Get to work boys.”

“He’s a real piece of work,” Vernon laughed.

“He’s something.”

Benny saw what he needed to see inside the restaurant and left. The crowd outside had thinned. Angel was still there and waiting under one of the outdoor umbrellas.

“Couldn’t get your mom on the phone?” Benny questioned as he approached her.

“No. She’s probably in her studio, painting. She doesn’t like to be interrupted when she’s painting.”

“She doesn’t paint with blood, does she?” Benny asked, only half joking.

“She’s weird, but she’s not that weird.”

Once in his Jeep, Benny told Angel to buckle up.

“I haven’t seen you around town before,” he said as Angel pointed which way to go.

“I’ve served you and Officer Kearns before. Twice actually. I’ve even babysat Vernon’s twins once or twice.”

“Of course,” Benny said peering over at Angel, taking a long look. The Jeep swerved and his eyes found the road again. “Did you get a haircut?”

“Yeah. And I dyed it black.”

“I like it.”

“I thought most men preferred blondes?”

“Not me,” Benny said. 

Angel laughed. “I don’t really care what most men like.”

“Oh?” Benny thought she was getting at the fact that she liked girls, which he thought was too intimate a subject for virtual strangers.

“Boys my age are just a bunch of dumbasses.”

“Seems like you’ve got teenaged boys pegged pretty well.”

Angel pointed again and Benny turned down a dirt road. “Only place down this road is the old Oglethorpe plantation. Or what used to be the Oglethorpe plantation.”

“That’s me. Angel Oglethorpe.”

“Oh my God.”

“The cool way to say it now is omigod,” Angel suggested.

“Omigod,” Benny repeated.

Angel threw her head back with laughter. “Now you got it. Do you know the history of this piece of land?”

“I think everybody in town does. Your great grandfather was one of the richest men in this part of the country.”

“He was actually my great, great grandfather. He had over four thousand acres of land and grew everything from cotton to pecans to peaches.”

“All the Georgia staples.”

“You better believe it. The plantation house was magnificent back in its day. There are still a few oil paintings of it in the house.  It’s all pretty dilapidated now.”

“Nobody really knows what happened. It seems to be a mystery how your family lost its fortune.”

“Nobody knew how to run the business once my great, great grandfather died. He had an amazing drive for business and he didn’t pass it on to anyone. He thought he was the only person who could do anything right, and he never asked anybody for help. In turn, he didn’t teach anybody how to run the business and when he died the business slowly died as well. The money lasted for a while, but eventually ran out. Through the years almost all the original land had to be sold. Out of the four thousand acres, we now only own twenty.”

Once on Oglethorpe land, Benny’s Jeep drove past giant metal sculptures sprouting from the earth as if they were living entities. Benny stopped next to one. “That looks like a weeping willow made of rusted metal. Very cool.”

“My Uncle Karl made that and all the other yard sculptures you’ll see. He’s crazy as hell, but talented.”

“Do you have a lot of artists in the family?”

“No. Just Mom and Uncle Karl. It’s just the three of us living in the house now.”

“If I remember correctly, that’s a pretty big house for three people.”

“Most of the rooms are closed off. Mom is always in her studio and Uncle Karl basically lives in his art barn out back. That’s my favorite of Uncle Karl’s sculptures,” Angel said pointing.

Benny stopped the Jeep again and looked. “That’s incredible. How did he do that?”

“I told you he was talented.”

Standing forty feet tall was an almost perfect replica of a bird. The crane peered down toward the ground. The bird crooked one of its legs in the air revealing a beautifully crafted webbed foot. The massive bird appeared to be fishing.

Benny drove his Jeep up the circular drive in front of the house and stopped at the large front door.

“Thanks for the ride.”

“Not a problem.”

“Tell Red I said hello.”

“How do you know Red?”

“Uncle Karl gets tomatoes from him. He brought Red over here one day last week. He talked about you a lot. Red ended up buying one of Uncle Karl’s sculptures and they installed it by Red’s garden a few days ago.”

“I have got to see this.” Benny chuckled to himself as he drove away from the house and toward Red’s.

Chapter 2

Benny spotted Red in his garden. His cat Galaxie followed one step behind. Red spent most of his time in his garden and he sometimes even napped among his plants. Red had been raised by deaf-mute parents away from the world in the Ozark Mountains. He spoke like a drunk five-year-old and had the innocent heart of a child. He had arrived on Benny’s doorstep a few years earlier and Benny loved everything about him and looked after him like a father would his own son.