Thistle and Twigg Page 6

  We gathered our hardware and Jane’s biscuit tin and set out through the grassy section of wildflowers at the very edge of Cal Pre-witt’s property. I put on a brave face as we walked by two warning signs that said “Keep Out” and ‘Trespassers Will Be Shot on Sight.” Both were hand-painted red in Cal’s writing, which was scary enough, him being so uncultured and all. My heart fluttered a little bit. I turned my nose up and kept walking, thinking about what perfect targets we made with Jane’s red shirt and my orange Auburn T-shirt and floral stretch leggings. We wouldn’t be mistaken for deer, that was for sure.

  We came around a bend in the road and could see a dilapidated house. Instead of a car under the carport, Cal had little mounds of old rusty metal junk on the stained concrete. Against the back wall, a long workbench held smaller piles of what looked like tools and tinier pieces of glass and metal.

  “Here we are,” Jane said. She was too polite to say, “Here we are at this awful-looking, rundown excuse of a house,” but that’s what it was. “I’ll leave this tin by the side door, then we can be on our way.”

  I shook my head in wonder. “Doesn’t look like he’s spent a dime on this place in ages.”

  Jane moved her head to one side. “He does seem quite thrifty,” she said, looking up at the rusted gutter as she came out from under the carport. It didn’t have a drop of paint on it and looked like it could cave in any minute.

  “You’re funny. Thrifty’s not the word for it. Crazy in the head is what he is. All that dough and it not doing him a bit of good. They say he has gold and money hidden all over the woods. Pots of it.”

  “That sounds like a story children might invent beside a camp-fire,” Jane said, as we walked past the house toward the road again.She brushed her hands off like they had dirt on them even though she hadn’t touched anything on that nasty porch.

  Jane still didn’t look convinced. She seemed preoccupied with studying the trees. She kept taking deep breaths and smiling real big.

  That’s when it hit me. How had I not seen it before? She was one of those nature freaks. I knew it because she had that look, like Gene Miller’s boy Hoil always had, but now Hoil was a hippie. Still is. It’s the kind of look that makes you think they are a little on the goofy side.

  “And,” I said, “his granddaddy was the same way with money. Everybody says that’s why he told Cal never to sell, because he couldn’t remember where all he’d buried stuff and he wanted Cal to keep on looking for it. And not only that, but his grandaddy’s great-great on-and-on grandaddy was supposed to have found a secret cave full of Spanish gold somewhere out here.”

  “Stories like that hardly ever have any truth to them at all. No, Phoebe, the treasure here is the beauty around us. Isn’t it wonderful?”

  I nodded. She was a tree hugger, all right.

  I said, “All I know is what I’ve heard. I’m just telling you so you won’t be surprised if we trip over a fruit jar full of hundred-dollar bills.”

  With that ugly shack behind us, I enjoyed our walk, especially while we were in the woods. No, I wasn’t catching Jane’s nature-freakitis. I liked it because it was at least ten degrees cooler under the trees. The morning had started off cool, but it had heated up already and my clothes already stuck to me, even that early in the morning. When we could see the road up ahead going out into the open again, I sure wasn’t looking forward to it.

  I changed my mind when we came upon something very interesting. Way off to our left we could see the thick pines that marked the beginning of Anisidi Wildlife Refuge. Way to the right, the land was flat and dusty looking. Big rocks lay even with the ground, almost like a rough pavement. Not much grass grew between the road where we stood and some big boulders lined up about forty feet away. Lots of beer bottles and cans, probably fifty or more, had been set in a row on top of them.

  “This must be the place,” I said.

  “It is indeed. Cal has set up more targets for us, I see. Are you ready?” Jane said, while she loaded up the pistols. “Why don’t you take a shot?”

  I took the gun Jane handed me and walked to a well-worn spot on the ground where it looked like Cal must have stood a lot when he was fooling around and practicing. Jane showed me how to stand, how to hold my arms out, and how to use the sight at the end of the barrel to aim.

  “Hey!” I yelled out. “If it’s anybody out here, we’re fixing to shoot.” A little breeze moved in the bushes but nothing else. “Not that anybody is fool enough around here to trespass on Prewitt land.”

  I tell you what, we had a ball shooting those guns. When my gun was empty, Jane took out a pistol and fired three times at the cans. She hit two of them. I didn’t hit a lick.

  “Boy, you’re good!” I said. “How’d you do that?”

  “Luck, most likely. I’m quite a bit out of practice,” she said. She smacked the top slide-y thing back like an expert and popped a metal cartridge of new bullets into the bottom of the gun handle like they do in movies. “The Colonel was a good teacher. He made sure I knew how to use every weapon he brought in the house, and as you could see, he brought in quite a few. I think he secretly hoped the Russians would invade so he could make use of them all.”

  “Kind of like reliving the good old days of the war, huh?”

  “Yes. Exactly.”

  That didn’t surprise me a bit. Didn’t I say he was a hard-nosed old so-and-so?

  We moved back quite a bit and Jane helped me again with holding and standing right when we switched to the rifle. It knocked me backward and hurt my shoulder to boot. I did like the sight better on it, though. My first two tries pinged off the boulders, but the third one hit a can and knocked it over. I whooped and hollered and jumped up and down like a kid.

  We finished off the bullets she’d brought. I didn’t hit anything else. Jane knocked off what was left.

  “Now that is what I call a good time!” I said. “I could definitely get into this. I’m going to take my can home with me as a souvenir. You know, for my table.”

  We walked together toward the boulders. Jane pointed out that those flat rocks went on out gradually to the bluffs over the river.

  “Look,” she said pointing way up to the sky. “Look at the wingspan. An eagle or a large hawk, do you think?” She fiddled around with a pair of binoculars she’d brought. “I’ve been looking forward to studying the local bird populations.”

  Good grief, I thought, she’s a koo-koo birdwatcher, too. I reckon that goes hand in hand with tree hugging.

  I squinted up at the sky. “That’s no eagle,” I said. “That’s just one of those ugly turkey buzzards. Nothing special.”

  While the bird circled and headed out over the big bluffs, Jane shielded her eyes with her hand to watch him. Meanwhile, I stepped behind the boulders.

  Grass grew in scrubby bunches right behind the rocks and then got higher, three or four inches, and thicker toward the edge of the bluffs.

  I saw my beer can. I knew it was mine because it was on the end and had a picture of a red dog on it. When I reached down to pick it up, I saw something else in the grass.

  “Somebody has lost a coat,” I said, looking down on the dark green and brown fabric in a camouflage pattern. I stood up straight as Jane walked up behind me.

  We had both stepped closer to the coat when Jane screamed like a wild hyena right in my ear. When I saw what Jane saw, I stayed cool and tried to calm her down. Thank goodness I was there with her, or I don’t know what she’d have done, as upset as she was. I couldn’t really blame her because it sure was a horrible sight.

  The coat still had a man in it. A dead one.

  nine

  Jane Calls the Cops

  Phoebe screamed bloody murder, waving her arms in the air and pulling at her hair as she hopped frantically from one tiptoe to the other, wailing and crying uncontrollably for several minutes. I made her sit on a boulder a good distance away from the body and out of sight of it. I encouraged her to breathe deeply. I spoke soothingly but
I doubt she heard a word due to her loud sobbing.

  “Did we do that?” Phoebe said, once she gained control of herself. Her voice quivered when she spoke. She clapped her hands tightly over her mouth so her words were muted, as were her hiccoughs. I felt terrible for her. I wouldn’t have thought it possible for her skin to be any whiter than it was normally, but all color had absolutely drained from her face.

  I’d seen quite a few dead bodies in my day an unpleasant aspect of the part-time work I did a number of years earlier, never thinking that doing so could be seen as an advantage. I was clearly better prepared than Phoebe for the sight. When I went back for another look, she insisted on coming as well.

  Blood stained the man’s back. We could see a hole of darker red, almost black, in the center. I bent down to feel his neck, then his wrist.

  “No, dear. We didn’t do it. He’s quite cold.”

  “For heaven sakes, Jane, how can you touch him?” Phoebe said, as she jumped again, her hands fluttering like birds’ wings in front of her face. “I wonder who he is.”

  I lay my hand on his shoulder to raise him up enough for Phoebe to possibly identify the poor man.

  “Don’t do it again!”

  “I thought you wanted to know who he is. Was.”

  “Not that bad. I don’t recognize him anyway.”

  “Right. I’ll call the police then.”

  “We will. I’m not staying here with the—the—him.”

  We went to Cal’s house first, in case he had returned, to let him know what happened. It was then that the significance of his parked green truck occurred to me. Either he didn’t go out of town as planned, or he’d caught a ride. Or he was still home. When he didn’t answer the door, Phoebe and I hurried to my house to use the phone.

  Both of Tullulah’s police cars came within five minutes. The officers asked that we wait by the road for Detective Waters. Phoebe reacquainted herself with each officer. She appeared to have known them since they were children, and verified each man’s personal histories, tracing their lineages through mothers, aunts, grandfathers, and distant cousins with whom she was, of course, familiar. Not many minutes later, a white unmarked police car arrived. A tall gentleman in a navy jacket, red patterned tie, and khaki trousers got out of the car and came toward us. The officers followed, all noticeably nervous in his presence. The detective took no notice of any of them.

  The stonelike set of his large, rough features and his shiny, solid black eyes invited no pleasantries. It was a face intent on one purpose. From the moment he left his vehicle, he did only two things. He made one sweep across his field of vision, taking everything and everyone in, then he locked his sights on Phoebe as he strode directly to her side. His impassive expression transformed instantly into a friendly smile, in the space of a snap of a finger, when Phoebe saw him.

  They spoke at once. “Miz Twigg. You all right?” He placed his big hands on her shoulders. Phoebe brought her own hands down from her face and said, “Daniel, son, I’m so glad you’re here. It was the awfulest thing but I’m okay now.” His head bobbed as he spoke reassuring words. Then he turned his attention to me.

  “Miz Thistle?”

  “Yes. Jane Thistle. How do you do?” I said. “I’m the one who called.”

  “Detective Dan Waters, ma’am,” he said as he shook my hand. “You told the dispatcher you found a body?”

  “Yes. Not far from here.” I pointed toward the road leading into Cal’s land.

  He nodded, still holding onto my hand, still looking directly into my eyes. When he said nothing more, I felt compelled to continue. I gave him a brief account of our ordeal in a few sentences. He nodded again when I finished. “Thank you. If you don’t mind, I’d like you ladies to walk with me a little ways.”

  I had no objections and Phoebe, though still a bit rattled, had calmed considerably since Detective Waters’ arrival. When we all passed Cal’s gate and his “Keep Out” signs on the way to the body, the detective said, “You were on Prewitt land?”

  “Yes,” I said. “With permission. He said we could use the firing range this morning. Phoebe and I had done so when we saw him.”

  “Saw Cal?”

  “No, sorry. The deceased person.”

  “Cal wasn’t with you?”

  “No. Just the two of us.”

  “And have you seen Cal this morning, ladies?”

  “No,” Phoebe and I said together.

  At the boulders, Detective Waters stood looking in all directions, turning slowly as he surveyed the area. He squatted next to the still form and reached into his own jacket pocket. He took out a pair of rubber gloves, pulled them on, and lifted the deceased’s shoulder a few inches, just where I had put my hand earlier. To my surprise, Phoebe edged forward as close as she could to the body to see. Her squeamishness had turned into fascination.

  The poor man looked very young, in his early twenties, I’d say. I realized the green and brown coat was one a hunter might wear. I shocked myself when the idea that Cal might have shot him for poaching popped into my mind. I didn’t believe it for a moment and dismissed the thought. Cal had shown himself to be a careful shot thus far.

  Detective Waters stood and spoke to his men. “Everyone, stay alert. Keep in mind where we are. Cal is usually armed, usually drinking, maybe pointing a shotgun at us right now. Let’s be careful. See if you can find him and bring him to me, would you please.”

  The flat tone of his words sent a chill down me. I felt sure Cal wouldn’t have killed someone, accidentally or otherwise. Of course, since he was one of the very few people I’d met in Tullulah, I wondered if perhaps I’d assumed too much in thinking he would be innocent. It was, after all, unlikely for anyone other than himself to be on the property. But then, why was this young man here?

  “The house is that way,” Detective Waters continued. Two officers headed in the direction indicated. “The rest of you spread out. To the edge of the woods and back here first, please.” Detective Waters turned us. “So you haven’t seen him today?”

  “Nope,” Phoebe said. “Not hide nor hair.”

  I hesitated. “No.” I didn’t like to talk about him. I don’t know why. I understood that from the authorities’ point of view, Cal would certainly be the first to question since the body was on his land. I felt terrible for him. Hearing Cal talk on the porch may have brought out a motherly instinct, perhaps too much of one.

  The policemen’s instinct however would surely be to track, question, and possibly arrest him. To their minds, it might seem a quick and easy case. He had a history of shooting at trespassers, he was alone and seemingly poor. At least from the looks of things, he had no money. Phoebe’s story of hidden gold and money could be partially true. Certainly it would fit in with his quirky personality.

  The radio on Detective Waters’ belt squawked. “Go ahead,” he said into the tiny black box.

  “Sir, the house is empty.”

  “Ten-four,” Detective Waters said and held the radio a moment. “Begin your perimeter search from the house.”

  “Ten-four,” the radio squawked.

  An uncomfortable silence followed between us. Detective Waters again scanned the area from where we stood. I had the distinct feeling he was purposely avoiding eye contact with me. He stepped away from the body and walked in a circle around the practicing range.

  He came to a stop behind the boulders and looked out over the bluff where Cal and I had stood the day before. The wind ruffled his dark hair as he surveyed the valley below. He didn’t move for some minutes. When he did, he turned slowly, his eyes seeking mine. I saw many questions in them until his blank, intent stare changed abruptly to a fake smile, all in an instant, like the slam of a closing door.

  The look chilled me, for in it I saw that he suspected Cal of this murder. I had no more evidence than the detective did to go on, yet I was certain that Cal did not do it.

  ten

  Phoebe Disagrees

  There was absolutely no
doubt in my mind—Cal did it. Why Jane was so soft on him without hardly knowing him, I couldn’t understand. Even if he was liquored up, as usual, and shot the poor man without knowing who he was, that still wouldn’t excuse him for not calling the cops. If he didn’t have a phone, he could’ve used Jane’s. And where was he at anyway?

  I didn’t recognize the dead guy. I don’t think he was from around here. Of course, a lot of young people have moved to town in the last several years, what with the new plant opening up in Russellville, so I don’t know everybody like I used to.

  Tullulah’s not that big—one high school, probably between seventy or eighty churches, and no shopping malls. Anything we can’t get on the square, we go into either Russellville or the Shoals to get what we need. Time was when I knew all the kids from either seeing them at church or at work at the public library, which I retired from five years ago. But now, a whole new crop of people are here, not connected to anybody, so it wasn’t much of a surprise I didn’t know that young man we found dead on the ground.

  Anyway it was highly likely Cal did it. You add two plus two and you get Cal in a heap of trouble. The fact he was nowhere to be found was mighty telling.

  The cops made us leave the scene of the crime. They took all of Jane’s guns for testing and promised to return them if they were cleared. Like they wouldn’t be. That handsome Daniel Waters was no fool, so we didn’t have anything to worry about.

  “Ladies, we appreciate your help,” he said. “What I’d like for you to do is wait for me in Miz Thistle’s house. You’ll be more comfortable there. I’ll be by as soon as I can. I hate to inconvenience you, but I’m sure I’ll have important questions, and I really do need your help.”

  He has always been so polite, even as a little boy when I had him in my Sunday school class. The Waters were poor as poor could be and didn’t have nothing to wear but rags, but they were always clean, and those children were brought up to be respectful and polite. I was proud of Daniel for making something of himself.