Authors: Mary Saums
Mr. Burn looked torn. He rubbed a hand over his face and did his best not to contradict his wife. “
We’ve
gotten used to his calls. I’m sorry if he has started pestering you, too.”
“Not at all,” I said, unsure now if the man on the phone was actually Mr. Burn’s father or not. “He was quite charming. He only wanted to welcome me to the area.”
“I don’t suppose he, ah, told you his name?” Mr. Burn obviously hoped he did not. Perhaps his father was right, that his son was terribly embarrassed by him.
“Yes, he did. Dad. Dad Burn.”
Phoebe’s body shook beside me. She was trying very hard not to smile or giggle. I had no idea what she found so amusing.
Mr. Burn cringed. Mrs. Burn gasped and looked as if she might faint.
Phoebe couldn’t suppress a giggle any longer. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry. I just thought of something funny.”
I stood and pulled Phoebe up with me. “We really should be going,” I said. “I’m so sorry if we’ve imposed.” Amid assurances to the contrary, we thanked the Burns for their hospitality and made our way to the door. Something on TV caught Phoebe’s eye. The blond teenage girl fought off three large men who, on second look, were actually zombies. The girl was winning. Phoebe stared, wide-eyed and impressed.
“Come, Phoebe, dear.” I tugged her arm until we reached the door and stepped off the porch toward her car. The dogs watched but made no sound or gave any indication they wished to follow us.
As soon as our car doors shut, Phoebe had a fit of giggles. She drove us onto the main road, shaking and laughing. “What’s so funny?” I asked.
“Dad Burn? Ha ha! Somebody is pulling your leg good, Jane. And was that weird about their telephone, or what? See, I told you. They are severely country. What did old ‘Dad Burn’ have to say, anyway?” She laughed and shook, wiping the corners of her eyes while muttering the name over and over.
“Just pleasantries. Welcoming me to town, that sort of thing. Very nice, really. He said he’s Mr. Burn’s father. I find it puzzling that his son and daughter-in-law didn’t want to openly recognize him. Even if he is eccentric, I don’t understand why they don’t just come out and say he was family.”
“No, hon,” Phoebe said. “That’s not possible. Junior’s daddy Old Nelton Burn, died years and years ago.”
“Good heavens. Are you sure?”
“Sure, I’m sure. I remember when it happened. A telephone pole got hit by lightning and fell on him, sparks a’flying everywhere. Lit him up like a Christmas tree. He glowed in his casket the whole time he was in the funeral parlor. No lie.” She held up a hand as if giving an oath. “He had the highest attendance, yet to be topped, of people viewing a body during visitation. Folks that didn’t even know him, even from other counties, came every night to see him. Look here, it doesn’t matter. Somebody is having a good time fooling with you, that’s all. No harm to it and we had some mighty good dessert while we were there.”
I sat quietly as we drove, trying to sort out the mysterious phone call. Presently, I asked, “Phoebe, who is Boo?”
“Boo who?” She started laughing again. I couldn’t help from doing so myself. What a silly friend I’d found.
“Don’t know Someone Dad mentioned,” I said.
The rest of our phone conversation I kept to myself. I wasn’t sure what reaction I’d get from Phoebe if I told her I didn’t believe the caller was a crank at all. She might not take it very well if she knew that I, sensible Jane, had just talked to a ghost.
A
fter we left Pale Holler and the rest of the boonies be-hind, Jane and I drove past the first building in town, which was Grace Baptist Church. Grace Baptist has a nice new building, complete with a lighted sign like at the Pig, where they can change the letters depending on the specials that week. Grace Baptist changed their sign like that, too, only with different Bible verses.
“What did it say?” I said. “It was too long to read and drive at the same time.”
“Tor in Him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible.’“ Jane’s voice was so low I could barely hear her, and she sat there, staring out the windshield, like she was pondering something real hard.
“Huh. Not a very deep one this week. Tub Ashwander must be on the sign committee again. Speaking of invisible, that reminds me. Ricky Blaze, who is working on my house, told me something you might be interested in,” I said. “He said there was a murder in your house and that’s why it’s haunted.” Jane turned her head to me. She looked a little scared. “I don’t believe it’s haunted, Jane. He said that, not me, and when he did, I told him, I said, why it’s not haunted a bit, and that’s when he told me what happened. But if you don’t want to hear it…”
“No, I do.”
“And it doesn’t have anything to do with ghosts; it’s just what happened. Cold, hard facts. It was way back in my granddaddy’s time. The Hardwicks took in a retarded cousin whose family was poor and ignorant and didn’t treat him right or know how to take care of him. They took him in, and then one day, a little girl from town went missing and he got killed.”
“How do you mean? Was there a connection?”
“The little girl’s daddy thought so. Him and a bunch of other folks in town blamed the retarded boy because he was out walking in the road, right down from your house, and he was carrying a doll that belonged to the girl. Her body was found close to where he was seen, somewhere on your property, I expect. The daddy went berserk and went home, got his shotgun, and tromped straight into the Hardwick’s living room. Didn’t even knock. Blew that poor boy away.”
“How horrible.”
“Yeah. Ricky Blaze said they never got the blood off the floor. I haven’t seen any, have you?”
“No. It must be one of those lies you mentioned.”
“Yeah. I knew it was. You can’t believe a word anybody says.”
Once we got settled in at Jane’s again, we looked over her living room floor for dark spots on the wood. Nothing. Just like I figured.
I followed Jane into the kitchen and almost ran into her. She stopped in the middle of the room, bent over, and picked something up off the floor.
“What’s that?”
She didn’t say anything and her face was pale when she showed me. It was a bullet.
“How did that get there?” I said.
She shook her head. “I’ve no idea.” That’s what she said but I got the feeling she was fibbing.
I hated to leave Jane by herself that night but I had a date. I’d seen an old friend, or should I say, old flame, at the gun show When I settled up for my AK-46 and a half that day with the Gillispies, I turned around and there stood Bernard French, towering over me, looking like a gray-headed lumberjack.
Now you’d think a guy named Bernard wouldn’t have much in the looks or brains department. Bernard French was different. He hadn’t let himself go to pot like most fellows my age. Sure, he had a little less hair and a few more wrinkles than when we dated in high school, but still. I’d seen him jogging around the lake at times over the years, so he was in tiptop shape.
He looked down at me and smiled. “Law, Phoebe, what’s a good-looking lady like you doing here?”
I explained how I needed a gun on account of my house blowing up.
“I heard about that. With you by yourself, I don’t blame you a bit for getting some protection.” Bernard has flirted with me for I don’t know how long. After his wife died, which was several years after my own husband died, I’d see him over in luka on Friday nights at the Regency Hotel for Dance Night. They had a live band and everything. Bernard was a good dancer and always wanted me to do the fancy numbers with him since I took ballroom lessons.
I had a sudden inspiration. “Bernard, I wonder if you’d do me a favor. I need to go to The Pool Cue.”
“Whatever for?” Bernard looked liked I’d slapped him across the face. It’s not exactly the kind of place where ladies hang out.
“It’s kind of a recon mission.” I knew he’d like that. Bernard joined the Marines right after school. He gave me a sly look.
“You spying on somebody you ought not to?”
I shrugged. “Somebody that maybe needs spying on. Are you with me?”
He grinned. “I reckon I better be. Just in case you need some backup.”
I was pleased as punch. If a big man like Bernard went with me, those rednecks who bombed The Pool Cue wouldn’t suspect a thing. If they were there.
And I believed they were. When we drove into the parking lot, the first thing I saw was an old beat-up red truck. I sure was glad Bernard agreed to go with me.
I’m telling you what, that place was rough. A few women sat at the bar but they weren’t too dainty, if you know what I mean. The room was mostly full of big, ugly men on their way to drunk at full speed.
Bernard and I got a table over by the wall under a neon sign of a moose drinking a mug of beer. Bernard brought me a Shirley Temple, which was mighty nice of him since he remembered I liked them from the old days at the dance club.
After he settled down and looked around, he turned to me. “Well, you got me here. Now will you tell me what you’re up to?”
“I’m not up to nothing.”
“Come on now, Pebbles.”
“Oh stop that,” I said with a little smack on his arm. He always used to call me that because of how I wear my hair up on top of my head.
We giggled and drank a little while. I decided he was one I could trust and so I told him the truth. “It’s like I told you. I’m here to spy on some guys,” I whispered.
He leaned back and looked at me. “Why? Have you had a hot tip about your house bomb?”
“Possibly.”
“And you think the ones who did it are here?”
“They might be.”
“What do they look like?”
“I ain’t got the slightest idea.”
Bernard laughed. “How can you spy on somebody when you don’t know what they look like?
I changed the subject. “I overheard some mighty interesting stuff at the gun show. When I was looking at gun accessories at the booth, I heard a man saying he was in Special Forces when he was in the service. Then, he went over to a rack of magazines and books and picked up one that said
Homemade Devices”
Bernard stared at me. “That’s it? That don’t mean nothing.”
“No, that’s not it. Those guys talked about a meeting at a base camp. Said they might be having a survival crisis in this country soon and wanted to be stocked with supplies and ready to fight. They badmouthed the government the whole time I listened.”
“A lot of people complain.”
“Yeah, but these guys were scary.”
“Well, you’ve got to remember sometimes guys talk, but when it comes down to action, they’re just as big a sissy as everybody else.”
“I know what I heard.”
“Don’t get upset, Pebbles. What can I do to make you feel better? I tell you what, let’s go over to that booth. We’ll be closer to the pool tables and those rough-looking characters. We can play like we’re double-aught spies on a case of international intrigue.”
“You’re making fun of me.”
“No, ma’am, I am not. I would a lot rather be with a woman who wants a little adventure than one that just sits in front of the TV all the time.”
“Oh, Bernard!” He knows how to talk to a lady.
The booth had a low wall on one side, a little higher than the table, that divided the sitting area and the pool-table room. The divider was made out of dark paneling with a piece of wide crown molding across the top. Rings were all over it from where rednecks with no upbringing set their beers, right straight on the wood.
Bernard was right. We had a great view of some scary fellows and could hear them good. Of the three pool tables, we were only out of earshot of one way on the end. That didn’t matter though because there were only a couple of girls shooting on it. They looked mighty rough in their tight pants and tank tops. Obviously, they were not from Tullulah.
Neither were the guys at the table next to them. They had all the hallmarks of thugs. Like maybe redneck mafia. Or even small fish used by international terrorists to infiltrate northern Alabama. The one racking up the balls was short and scrawny the little buddy of the bunch that does all the scut work. His dirty blond hair was greased with big comb marks from his scalp down to his neck. He laughed like a hyena when he didn’t have a cigarette in his mouth. He needed a dentist in a bad way.
A big guy waiting to shoot stood by the end of the table, chalking his cue. His hair was greasy, too, but at least he had it pulled back into a neat ponytail. He wore a muscle shirt so his blue-green tattoos would show. A chain with dog tags hung down when he bent over for the break.
Another guy stood in the shadow by the wall. I pegged him as the leader. He was a tall man and stood with a straight back, his legs apart and firmly planted. He was all muscle with a burr cut. His movements were slow and purposeful. The whole time, he looked out over the room like he was expecting trouble or maybe hoping for some. I knew the type. He stays quiet and gets a crazy look in his eyes to make the others scared of him. He wasn’t drinking. He held his pool cue like he’d rather smack somebody with it than play pool. He looked just like the type who would throw a bomb into some nice lady’s house, and then go have a beer and laugh about it.
I squinted at him like Clint Eastwood. Wouldn’t Clint and I make a good team against this here bunch? Son, we could clean house, him with his .44 Magnum and me with my new AK-46 and a half. The first thing I’d do is hold my rifle out like a WeedEater and mow them beer cans off that ledge. Then I’d make those boys put coasters down.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Bernard said. “Just because these guys look rough doesn’t mean they did it.”
“I realize that. I don’t expect to sit here and overhear them say, ‘We sure had a good time blowing up Phoebe Twigg’s house on October eighteenth.’ All while an upstanding citizen and former Marine just happens to be here to hear their confession.”
“Good. Now don’t pout. If these ain’t your bad boys, we’ll go find some other ones. We can hit all the low-class hangouts. How does that sound?”
“There’s not anymore but this one, you know that.” For another thirty minutes or so, we laughed and had a good time while the other ones played pool. I’ve never heard so many cuss words. Those boys were mighty lucky Bernard was with me or I’d have found me some soap. That’s all right. I knew their time would come.