Authors: Tim Tingle
“Okay, just don’t scratch it up. That casket was your Dad’s birthday present from me.”
“No problem, Mom.” He looked at his watch. “Hey guys, we need to be going. Don’t worry Mom, ‘Jesus’ is driving! We’ll be home by midnight.”
All four of them got into the cab of the truck, Chris still in his ‘mummy wrap’, and they drove away from the Church. Janice and Rebecca stood in the church parking lot and watched them go out of sight. The long August day was finally ending with a spectacular pinkish-orange sunset. Janice said to Rebecca, “Those boys are up to something. I can feel it!”
“Boys just being boys!” Rebecca replied.
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
* * *
As they drove off into the sunset, the boys were ecstatic that they had cleared the final hurdle standing between them, and an awesome evening.
“This is going to be great!” Cory said. “I have our route all planned out. We start at McDonald’s in Montevallo, then on to the Dari-Queen in Laurel Grove, and if we have time, we’ll hit the Tiger Hut in West Blocton!”
“So we’re not going to the Retreat at all?” Calvin asked.
“Nah!” Joey replied. “If we hit all the places we plan to, we won’t have time! It’s 8:15 now. We gotta’ hustle to be home by midnight!”
Chris, who was to be the star of the show, couldn’t help laughing out loud. “This is going to be
so
cool! I wish we could film it!”
“What? And have incriminating evidence for Dad to see and hang us with?” Joey exclaimed. “That wouldn’t be smart! Just being able to remember that we did it, will be good enough!”
“Yeah, if Mom doesn’t kill us!” Calvin added.
“How will she ever find out?” Joey asked.
They pulled up to the intersection, but instead of going right, toward the river, and the Presbyterian Retreat, they turned left, toward Montevallo. Toward what they hoped would be a stunt that would elevate them, at least in the eyes of their peers, to the Teen-age Pranksters Hall of Fame.
* * *
As the sun was setting in Kellerman, Miranda waited for darkness, knowing that this whole mess with the Judge was about to reach its conclusion. During the day, she had totally cleaned her own house, to rid it of any evidence that Leon had ever been there. In the afternoon, the donation pick-up truck from Jimmy Hale Mission had arrived, and hauled off the freezer where she had kept the judge, so now she didn’t have to worry about that. She had called Lennie, to arrange for him to meet her secretly at the judge’s house at 8:30, so they could conduct a final sweep of the house, to make sure there was nothing to incriminate her there.
And of course, there was a devious reason for inviting Lennie to help her clean the judge’s house. She hoped that he would leave his fingerprints everywhere, which would incriminate
him,
if the house were to be checked for fingerprints, which it was sure to be, once he was discovered to be missing.
Lennie was to meet here there. She was planning to slip through the woods which separated her house from Leon’s on foot, so that her car would not be seen there. One less thing to go wrong. When she deemed that it was dark enough, she left her house and crept through the woods, emerging on the Judge’s brick cobblestone driveway, only forty feet from the southwest corner of his house. She saw a figure sitting on a bicycle in front of the garage. That could only be Lennie, judging by the powerful stench of after shave lotion she could smell, even from that distance, but she had to make sure. She deliberately made a noise in the bushes, and she heard Lennie say, “Hello? Miranda, is that you?”
“Yes, Lennie, it’s me!”
“I been waiting for half an hour!”
“I told you 8:30.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t want to be late.”
“Seen anyone?”
“No, not a soul.”
“Good. Let’s get started. The front door is unlocked.” As they entered the house, she said, “Now remember Lennie, you are not to tell anyone that we were ever here. What we are here for, is to clean up the house before the Judge’s wife returns from Europe. We will wash dishes, wash clothes, straighten up everything, so that nothing will be out of place.”
As she was talking, she was slipping on a pair of latex gloves.
“What are those for?” Lennie asked.
“I don’t want my hands to get dirty while I am cleaning.”
“Do I need gloves too?”
“Sorry, I have only this one pair, Lennie. Besides, a man’s hand is much tougher than a woman’s hand.”
“They are?”
“Yes, Lennie, and besides, the house is pretty clean anyway. There is probably no need for gloves at all.”
“Okay.”
Miranda opened the front door and turned on the light. It seemed like an eternity since she was last here, though it had actually been mere days. “Stay right here Lennie. I want to walk through the house by myself first, with no distractions, to see if I notice anything out of place.”
“Okay.”
She walked into the living room, and then the kitchen, noting dirty dishes in the sink, and a liquor bottle out of place. She wiped it with a towel, and put it up.
In the carport she checked over Leon’s sports car, and found her sunglasses on the dash, and one of her blouses in the back seat. Thank God she had come back to check! She shoved the sunglasses in the pocket of her jeans, and tied the blouse around her waist, so she would be sure not to leave it. She wiped down the entire car, in case her prints were on it somewhere. She returned to the livingroom, where Lennie was obediently waiting on her.
“Lennie, do you know how to wash dishes?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Good, you can start by washing all the dirty dishes in the kitchen, drying them, and putting them up. There aren’t many. In the meantime, I will wash a few loads of clothes, and bed linens.” As she worked, she was confident that Lennie was leaving plenty of fingerprints everywhere.
She cleaned the bathroom, and even the bedroom, where the terrible incident happened. Everything she wiped down made her feel even more confident that she was covering her tracks.
She saw that letter again, there on the dresser. The Letter to Belinda. She picked it up and looked at it, wondering what it said. What was the last thing that Leon said to his wife? Was it even from Leon? Of course it was. Who else could it be from, being that it was there on the bedroom dresser, probably the most likely place for Belinda to find it when she returned from her European Cruise. What was it that Leon wanted to tell her? She examined the seal, but it was secure. Any tampering would be noticeable. She held it up to the light, but the contents was several pages, so it was too thick to read through the envelope. She could probably steam the seal open, but it would
look
opened, so she didn’t want to mess with it. She wiped off any possible fingerprints, and left it there in the middle of the dresser, obvious to Belinda when she gets home.
She did not know what to do with Leon’s wallet, but she knew that if it were found here, it would indicate that the judge had not gone anywhere. She put it in her pocket, for the time being. She would dispose of it later, perhaps by weighting it down, and sinking it in the river. She washed his clothes, dried them, and was putting them away, as a load of sheets and linens were washing. This was going to take longer than she had anticipated, but there was no rush. Neither she nor Lennie had anything better to do on a Wednesday night. And no one was expected to show up here, she hoped.
Lennie had long since finished washing the dishes, and she found him in the livingroom, picking up things and looking at them, perhaps never realizing that he was leaving his fingerprints on everything he touched. But that was good, because later when they began hunting the Judge, Lennie would be a prime suspect.
Or was that a good thing? With Lennie’s mentality, and his eagerness to help anyone, it would be dangerous for the police to converge on him with pointed questions.
Hmmm,
Miranda thought,
maybe
I
should
go
back
and
wipe
down
everything
that
Lennie
touched
too.
If
the
police
go
after
him,
he
is
too
dumb
to
not
inadvertently
say
something
that
could
point
to
me!
This caused a new round distress and anxiety that made her almost nauseous. What she
hoped
might happen was irrelevant. The reality was, once the police began questioning Lennie, she was done! No matter how hard Lennie tried to
not
incriminate her, she knew it was going to happen. Lennie was simply too helpful and good-natured to
not
blow her cover.
Lennie’s own words stung her, every time she thought of them.
Miranda,
they
gonna’
mess
you
up
in
prison!
But what could she do? What were her options? With all her lottery money, she
should
be able to do something, but what?
A thought hit her.
I
can
buy
him
a
plane
ticket
to
somewhere
far
away,
like
.
.
.
maybe
Hawaii.
I
can
call
ahead
and
make
arrangements
for
him
to
stay
at
a
nice
hotel
on
the
beach
for
a
month
or
a
year,
or
how
ever
long
it
takes
for
this
mess
to
blow
over,
and
then
.
.
.
then
what?
Hawaii
is
a
part
of
the
United
States,
so
the
FBI
could
still
reach
him
there.
No,
Lennie
would
have
to
go
out
of
the
country.
I
need
to
take
him
and
apply
for
a
passport,
and
get
him
out
of
the
country,
to
somewhere
like
.
.
.
India,
or
Bangladesh,
or
somewhere!
Anywhere
that
he
can’t
be
tracked
down!
I
could
accompany
him
there,
and
just
leave
him
there!
If
he
can’t
speak
the
language,
and
has
no
concept
of
how
he
got
there,
and
how
far
he
is
from
home,
and
has
no
money,
how
can
he
possibly
get
back
home?
Miranda chuckled at her reasoning. She remembered when she was a little girl, and unwanted stray dogs would sometimes just ‘take up’ with them. Her Dad would put them in the back of his truck, and carry them far away, and put them out, usually up a dirt road, or near another community so that they couldn’t find their way back to
their
house. At the time, she thought that was cruel, and hated when her dad did it, but she understood
why
he did it. They simply couldn’t afford to feed every stray dog that took up with them. But it was effective in riding them of the excess dogs. They never saw them again. And now, what she was thinking about doing with Lennie was exactly the same thing.
I’m
trying
to
get
rid
of
him,
like
a
stray
dog!
Lennie stood there before her, mute and obedient. If he had a tail, he would have been wagging it. Just like a stray dog, hoping to find favor, and a permanent home, yet never suspecting that this benevolent human was considering a different fate.