Complicated Matters (2 page)

   After a long, grueling drive across the state of Florida, he pulled into Morgansville. The place reminded him more of Mayberry than a modern town in Florida. The sidewalks were lined with huge oak trees on one side. He wondered how old they were. Merchants swept the sidewalks in front of their stores. He even noticed two old men playing checkers in front of the courthouse. What could be more perfect?
 

   He parked a small moving truck into the space reserved for the sheriff. Inside the cargo trailer was his baby. His nineteen sixty-six Harley Davidson FXST Springer. He wasn’t about to leave it in a storage locker in Miami. His red 1972 Camarro rode on a tow bar behind the moving truck. “Welcome to your new home.” He left the moving truck and stretched his legs. “Let’s solve this case and get the hell out of here.”  

   Chapter 2

   “Hey, Farrah. Wait up.” 

   Farrah Mathews stopped in the middle of the crowded high school hallway and looked around to see who was calling her. Locks of chestnut brown hair bounced atop a tan face, as a runner’s body carried them down the hall.

   Kids moved to one side as her boyfriend of four years, Ted, made his way to her.

   “Hey, you.” She smiled and hugged her boyfriend.

   Model good looks hovered over her an inch as his brown eyes looked down her shirt. She was used to him sneaking peeks at her breasts. She wasn’t used to the way his hands always ended up on her hips. He’d only started doing that at the beginning of the year.

   “Some of us are goin’ to the springs tomorrow after graduation practice. Do you wanna come?”

   She leaned against the wall of the crowded corridor. “Love to, but can’t. Dad wants me home right after practice.”

   Ted scowled. “I don’t understand why you have to work every friggin’ weekend.”

   “That’s the way it is. The farm doesn’t care what you have going on in your life.” She stared at her scuffed up sneakers and the frayed hem of her jeans. Her mom bought clothes twice a year--at the beginning of school and Christmas. She hated that practice.
I’ve got to find a job.
“But maybe if I ask early enough, we can do something next weekend.”

   “I can’t.” He shuffled his feet. “Out-town-baseball tournament.”

   She looked at him with a weak smile. “Then we’ll just have to drive to your tournament together.”

   “Coach wants the team ridin’ on the bus together.” His jaw clenched. “Can’t you talk to your old man?”

   “It wouldn’t do any good. You know how Daddy is when he makes up his mind.” 

   The tardy bell rang. 

   “Damn, third tardy.” Ted looked at his watch. “Coach Dutton is going to bust my balls for this one.” He kissed Farrah on the cheek, then raced down the hallway.

   Farrah disappeared into her Trigonometry class and took her seat in front of Torrie Jergans.

   “I couldn’t help but over hear your conversation in the hall.” Torrie leaned across her desk and whispered into Farrah’s ear. “Don’t worry about Teddy Bear. I’ll take good care of him tomorrow at the springs. I hope he likes my new bikini.”

   “Go shake your pompoms some where else.” Farrah warned the newly crowned head cheerleader.

   Torrie was only a junior but came across much more sophisticated at sixteen than Farrah did at eighteen.

  
Oh well, the last day of my last class. This is nice.
Farrah sat back in her seat.
I  wish Dad hadn’t taken over that stupid farm.

  
Before her Grandpa Joe died, her dad taught Agriculture at the local Junior College. They lived in a little house just outside of town. She had time to hang out with her friends. Now, she barely had time for basketball.

  
Some poor kid, who got drafted as the principal’s sixth-period errand boy, knocked on the opened door then took-off after he handed the message to Mr. Bridges.

   Mr. Bridges approached Farrah. “Get your things. Someone is waiting for you in the main office.”

   Farrah noticed he was even paler than usual. The hissing sounds of whispering voices filled the air as she left the classroom.

   Her squeaky sneakers echoed against the green linoleum in the deserted hall.

   The interim sheriff met her at the door. “Farrah Mathews?” His eyes were like two black holes--soulless and devoid of life.

   She tried to shake the horrific feeling looking into his eyes caused. “That’s me.” 

   He extended his hand. “I’m Sheriff Taylor.” 

   “I know who you are.” She failed to accept his handshake. “What can I do for you?” 

   “Principle Madison said we can talk in his office.” Taylor held the door open for her.

   The office was more like a cubical surrounded by glass walls. A desk, barely big enough to hold all the paperwork, sat in a corner facing the door. Two small chairs, used to sermonize deviant students, faced the desk. The shades were never drawn.

   The sheriff’s face read like a Shakespearean play--all tragedy. 

   “Just tell me what’s going on.”

   Taylor pointed to a chair. “At least sit down.” 

   “I don’t want to sit down.” Farrah raised her voice. “I want to know what in the hell is going on.” 
             

   Taylor took out his out his black notebook and started reading from it. “At approximately ten-thirty this morning, someone called emergency services and reported shots being fired in the swamp adjoining your parents’ farm.”

   Farrah wondered if he always used that passionless voice. “So?” She frowned. “Some fool is always back there shooting at one thing or another. Why am I here?”

   The office went silent.

   Taylor sat down on the principal’s desk. “Another call came in shortly after the previous one, saying that there was a loud boom around that area.”

   Farrah put her hand over her ears and closed her eyes. “I don’t want to hear this.”

   A gentle hand touched her shoulder. “I wish there was some way to make this easier. A truck was sitting under a tree with a woman’s purse containing among other things, a Florida driver’s license belonging to Tara Mathews. Our investigators found John Mathews’ drivers license, in the glove box. A rifle lay behind the seat.”

   “No. No.” She put her hands over her face. “Please no,” she sobbed.

   “Miss Mathews, can you tell me why your parents would go armed?”

   Farrah wiped her eyes and looked up at him. She sniffled.  “Are you really so stupid you have to ask me a question like that?”

   Taylor knelt down next to her. “I realize this is hard, but I need to understand your parents if I am to catch their killer.”

   Farrah stared at the floor for a few minutes before she answered him. “The swamp is a dangerous place. It’s best to be prepared. Rattlesnakes, panthers, bear, bobcats; you never know what you’re liable to run into.”

   “Is that the only reason?”

   She nodded. “Yeah.” 

   “I’ll call Children’s Services and make arrangements for your brothers.” Taylor took out his cell phone.

   “Don’t bother.” Farrah put her hand on his. She swallowed. “On my eighteenth birthday, my parents revised their will making me the legal guardian of my brothers in case something should happen to them.”

   “I’ll need to see that will, if you don’t mind.”

   She bent over and hugged her knees. “It’s in a safe deposit box at the bank.” 

   “Will you please accompany me to the bank?”

   “Do I really have a choice?” Farrah grabbed her stuff and followed the sheriff. She was mortified when she saw his patrol car. A huge Bronco complete with blue-lights flashing.
Can this possibly get any worse?

   At the bank she removed the will from her parents’ safe deposit box along with an age-yellowed paper stating the farm be handed down from eldest Mathews to eldest Mathews. “Satisfied?”

   “May I show this to Children’s Services? They’ll want to make copies.”

Farrah rolled her eyes. “Whatever, Sheriff.”

   Chapter 3

   Taylor turned off the main highway and stared at the clay, dirt road leading the the Mathews’ Farm. “You really should talk to someone.” 

   Farrah stared out the window at the all too familiar scenery. “I don’t need a shrink.” 

   “I was thinking more along the lines of a friend.” The gentle tone in Taylor’s voice calmed her down a little.   

   Farrah withdrew into herself. Her parents were gone, but the world didn’t seem to notice. People still went about their daily routines of doing laundry and working in their gardens.

  Little kids played under shade trees and rolled around in fresh-cut grass. Cows still took their time grazing in green pastures. The earth didn’t quit rotating. The humid air hung thick in the atmosphere. The sun didn’t change its routine. Everything was just as it always was.

   “Sorry. I just thought a city cop would be more inclined to suggest a psychiatrist or something.” She pointed to the lane with the
Mathews’ Farms
sign next to it. “That’s us.”

   “A grief counselor might not be a bad idea.” He knew nothing about farms, but this place was right out a painting. “I could put you and your brothers in touch with one.” Dust filled the air as he made the right a little too fast. “What are you going to do next?”

   “I don’t know. Wash my face and pick up my brothers, I guess. We need to plan some kind of memorial service for Mom and Dad while the relatives are in town this weekend. Do we need to contact the funeral home?”

   “I’m sorry. The explosion was--” He paused.

   “I see.” Farrah felt a sharp pain in her stomach.

   Taylor pulled into the yard. “You need to slow down and process all this.” 

   “What I need to do is wash my face and pull myself together.” She opened the car door and ran behind the house before the Bronco came to a complete stop. “Why, God?” she sobbed. “What did they do to deserve this?”

   A mixture of sweet and spicy cologne filled the air. “That’s right, let it all out.” An almost musical voice soothed her as he pulled her long hair behind her. “It’s all gonna be okay.”   

   “But my brothers,” she sobbed. “I have to bring them home.”

   A beep sounded from behind her followed by static. She assumed he was using some kind of walkie-talkie when he said, “This is Sheriff Taylor. Is anyone on the force familiar with the Mathews family?”

   “Deputy Winthrop’s daughter plays basketball with Farrah Mathews,” the dispatcher said. “The families sit at the games together sometimes.”

   “Tell him to pick up Jess and Alex Mathews and bring them home.” His voice took on a more authoritative tone. “I’ll be waiting.”

   “We’ll do, Sheriff.”

   “Thanks.” He lowered his voice. “Your brothers will be here shortly. Would you like to go inside?”

   She nodded. 

   He helped her to her feet.

   Taylor turned the doorknob. “Do your parents always leave their door unlocked?”

   “They were planning on coming back.” She wondered how a grown man could be so naïve. “Remember?” 

   “That’s right. It’s a different world up here.” Taylor walked with her to the kitchen. He seemed to be talking to himself more than her. “Do you want some water. Is there someone I can call?”

   “You can quit hovering over me and give me some space,” Farrah snapped.

   He sat down at the table. “I’m sorry.” 

   Time crept by. Farrah felt as though she were going to explode.
Death is just another part of life. Everything happens for a reason. Grief is best dealt with in private.
She felt her blood pressure rising.
If that damn sheriff would just leave me alone I might stand a chance of getting my act together.
Tension boiled up inside her.

   More static came from the sheriff’s direction.

   “Sheriff Taylor, this is Deputy Winthrop. I’m outside with Alex and Jess Mathews.”

   “Bring them in.” 

   Deputy Winthrop opened the door, but stopped short of going inside.

   “What’s going on, Farrah?” Alex grabbed his sister and dug his fingers dug into her arms. “Deputy Winthrop wouldn’t tell us anything.”

   Taylor took a few steps toward Alex. “You might want to lighten up on that grip.” 

   Alex released her. He drew his eyebrows closer together and shifted his eyes. “Why were we taken out of school like a couple of delinquents?” 

   Everything was closing in on her. If she had just been able to collect her thoughts in private, she was sure everything would have been better. Alex’s inquisition pushed her too far.