Jason Deas - Benny James 03 - Brushed Away (2 page)

“Bendy,” Red hollered as he spotted the Jeep in his driveway.

As Benny walked toward him he noticed the large sculpture behind him.

“Does you seeing my art. Red now liking art.”

“It would be hard to miss,” Benny said studying the piece.

“It a sea aminal with super light power.”

“I see.”

At the back of Red’s garden stood a giant metal sea creature, almost as high as the house that looked like a mutation of an octopus. Instead of eight arms, Benny quickly counted a dozen or more snaking in all directions. Attached to each of the arms were thousands upon thousands of tiny mirrors. Light reflected from the piece and from some angles Benny thought it was almost painful to view.

“The vegables thanking me every day for this.”

“Let me guess,” Benny said. “They like all the extra light?”

“Yep. You smart man, Bendy.”

“I don’t mean to pry into your personal business,” Benny started, “but how much did you pay for this?”

Benny had collected five hundred thousand dollars for Red a few years earlier and wanted to make sure Karl had not found out about his money and trying to take advantage of him.

“It costed a thousand tomatoes.”

“You didn’t give Karl any money?”

“Nope. He just say I owe him a thousand tomatoes.”

“You’re quite the business man. I didn’t know you were selling your vegetables? You always give me stuff for free.”

“That because you Red bestest friend.”

Benny beamed.

His thoughts turned to the bloody canvas and he wondered if Karl might be weird enough to pull off such a sick stunt. Red was usually a pretty good judge of character.

“Tell me about Karl. How did you meet him?”

“Red meeted he at food store. He have tomatoes in he cart and Red tell he not to buying they yucky tomato.”

“When was this?”

“Same day I call you on talky machine about bombs.”

Red’s house was located less than a mile from Tilley’s main park where the city put on a spectacular fireworks show every Fourth of July. The first year Red had been in the house he called Benny terrified, thinking the world was coming to an end. As Red did not keep up with the date, he called Benny every Fourth of July when the fireworks started to tell him about the bombs. Benny always had to remind him that it was the day America celebrated its independence by shooting fireworks. Red always laughed and said he thought it was silly to celebrate by making loud noises.

“Can you keep a secret, Red?”

“You know Red can.” Red’s face hardened.

Benny put a hand on his shoulder and said, “I’m sorry I even asked. I know you can keep a secret. I can’t think of anybody in this world I trust more than you.” Red smiled, his demeanor back to normal. “Something bad happened this morning at Rene’s.”

“You face looking worry.”

“I am worried, buddy. Somebody hung a painting in Rene’s made of blood, and I’m afraid we’re going to find a body that goes with it.”

“It good it happen here,” Red said.

“Why is that?”

“Because you here,” Red said incredulously. “You find any bad mans. Red knowing you be finding this bad man too.”

“Thanks, buddy.”

“Next time Karl come for he tomatoes, Red will integrate he.”

“You’ll interrogate him for me?”

“Red will.”

“You’re the best. Be cool though. Don’t let him know what’s going on.”

“Red be cool.”

“Keep your eyes open, buddy.”

“Red eyes always open unless Red being asleep.”

“Very good,” Benny said trying the best he could to conceal the smile trying to flash across his face.

When Benny’s cell phone rang as he was driving, he knew it was bad news.

“It’s the campground,” Vernon said. “Site number four.”

“On my way.” Benny tossed the phone on the seat next to him and stomped on the gas pedal. As he sped down the country roads, his thoughts slipped to Rachael as he wondered what she was doing. He calculated what time it was in London. Benny had not been dumped many times in his life besides Jane, and it hurt. He pushed the gas pedal all the way to the floor. With his left hand, Benny let all the windows down and felt the rush of air and the dangerous speed in which he was travelling wash over him. He let the thought of Rachael fall to the roadside, and he readied his mind for the crime scene awaiting him.

Benny drove the Jeep into the Talking Pines Campground. Vernon already had the entrance to the campground blocked and guarded. Officer Andy Mandelino waved him through.

As he motored slowly around toward site number four, he noticed families packing their cars and campers. Benny surmised Vernon had ordered an immediate evacuation of the grounds. Benny wondered what the occupants had been told.

As he approached site four, Benny spied Vernon and the infamous yellow tape signifying a crime scene. Vernon was waiting for Benny. He looked ill.

“You look awfully white for a black man,” Benny said as Vernon greeted him with a pair of gloves. Benny slipped the gloves on his hands and took in the scene.

“We’ve seen some strange, strange stuff together, but this one takes the cake,” Vernon said. “We’ve already photographed extensively around the tent, so it’s cool to walk around.”

Benny stood still and looked around. A green three-man tent was pitched in the middle of an area filled with pea gravel. Benny searched the pea gravel for footprints and did not find any. He thought it strange.

“Did you look inside?” he asked Vernon.

“Yes, unfortunately.”

“Where are your footprints?”

“We put a sheet of plywood down.”

Benny smiled and pointed at Vernon. “Is somebody looking for a promotion?”

“Hell no. Only position up from mine is Chief.”

“And?”

“Damn. I wouldn’t run against Chuckie. And y’all white folks wouldn’t vote me in, anyhow.”

“You got my vote.”

“Thanks. Now stop dreaming and take a look inside the tent.”

Benny walked toward the tent door and his head popped back.

“I know what that smell is,” he told Vernon.

Benny cupped his hand over his face. He pulled the flap to the side and peered inside. An incredibly large man lay on his back, slashed to pieces. His throat, chest, stomach, and legs suffered small cuts. He was naked. The bottom of the tent had a thin pool of blood, some of which was still not dried. Benny backed out of the tent.

“We got us a first timer,” Benny said.

“What do you mean?”

“Whoever did this is a first time killer. I would bet my life on it.”

“Why?”

“There is uncertainty in the knife slashes. Our killer didn’t know if the ones across his neck would do the job, so they continued and slashed his chest. As he gasped for his last breaths our killer panicked and slashed his stomach and legs. I guarantee you if he hadn’t died then, we would be finding more of him carved up.”

“Why do people do these things?”

“Rage, money, jealousy.” Benny backed away from the tent and tried to shake the smell out of his nostrils. “Too many reasons.”

“I’m no expert,” Vernon said, “but I don’t see rage in those slashes.”

“You’re right. Now tell me why.”

“The cuts aren’t deep enough or long enough.”

“Right again.”

Vernon’s chest puffed out a little and he continued. “I can tell the knife he used was incredibly sharp by the flaps of skin. A dull knife would have torn the skin, but those cuts are smooth.”

“You’re starting to make me feel useless,” Benny joked.

“I guess it’s like anything, the more you see and experience, the better you become.”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Come look at this,” Vernon said, walking over toward the concrete picnic table.

Benny took a few steps before the tabletop came into view. “Well, that’s fresh,” he said. “And interesting. What the hell is it?”

Someone had taken a rock or something of the sort and carved an image into the top of the table. The abstract image seemed in places like it would burst into a realistic figure and then it somehow dove back into abstraction. Just as the viewer’s eyes recovered from one trick of lines, more pulled the eyes to another section that almost revealed itself, and did not. The artist created a dance for the eyes and a curious journey of near discoveries.

“Is this thing moving?” Benny said as he had to look away.

“I felt the same thing. I thought maybe I was just feeling queasy from what I had seen in the tent.”

“Somebody is talented,” Benny said. “We need to start looking at artists around town and see if we can match this style. Not just anybody could do
this
.”

“If you want to get on that, I’ll find out who the guy in the tent is and maybe we can connect the two. I’ve already asked the camp attendant to give me a printout of all the names, phone numbers, and addresses of people who have been staying here in the last week. I’ll get some of the deputies to start visiting or calling all of them to find out if they saw or heard anything.”

Benny took two steps back, feigning anger. “You sure you need me?”

Vernon tried to hide his pride and smothered a grin. “You taught me well. I do need you.”

“I think I actually need you more than you need me this time around. I need to keep my mind busy.”

“What do you mean?”

“Rachael’s moving on.”

“Shut your mouth! She burned you?”

“Afraid so.” Benny’s eyes began to well up.

Vernon put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Her loss, my friend. You want to go get a beer?”

“Nah. Thanks though. I just want to try to wrap my mind around this alone today. Maybe tomorrow.”

“I understand. Damn! She was a good one, brother.”

“She was. And thanks for not talking bad about her. She deserves better than that.”

“Yes, she does. Hey, if you get to feeling lonely or need to talk, call or just come on over to the house. We got plenty of commotion to take your mind off your problems.”

“The twins doing OK?”

“I’m surprised every day that the house is still standing. The boys are wild. Karma’s a mean bitch.”

Benny laughed. “Let’s touch base later.”

“Promise me one thing.”

“OK.”

“Don’t drink this problem away like you did Jane.”

Benny had been married to a local named Jane for a short time. She had been Chief Neighbors’ high school sweetheart and wife. Jane had hired Benny to find out if Chief Neighbors was cheating on her. After he gave her proof that he was, a romance followed and marriage. Vernon called Benny not long after they tied the knot to let him know that Jane’s heart had floated back to the Chief, and Benny busted them in the Chief’s office. A divorce and a tight friendship were the results of the secret phone call.

“I won’t. I tried it last night and the problem was still here this morning.”

“Is that why my phone rang at three o’clock in the morning?”

Benny fanned out both of his hands and shook his head. “Wasn’t me.”

Chapter 3

Another sun-drenched morning graced the Sleepy Cove Marina. Benny’s houseboat gently swayed as the fishing boats headed out. He was not a morning person and usually rolled out of bed around ten. He peeked at the clock and found it to be a few minutes before six. His brain took off and he tried to fall back to sleep without any success. He could not calm his thoughts. Benny cursed and got out of bed.

Although it was four hours earlier than usual, he followed his morning ritual and headed up to the marina’s office for the morning paper.

“What’s wrong?” Donny yelled when he walked in the door.

“Nothing,” Benny tried.

“Aw damn! Does this have anything to do with Rachael not being on TV last night?”

“Maybe.”

Donny grabbed his face and pulled the cap off his head. He slammed it to the floor and then kicked it across the room. He put his head down on the counter swearing and hollering indecipherable phrases.

“Whoa! She didn’t break up with you. She dumped
me
,” Benny said.

“I’m so upset. I feel like I’ve been kicked in the stomach. I need to sit down.” Donny stumbled over to one of the couches lining the walls of the office and bait shop.

“Are you kidding me here? Am I still asleep and dreaming?”

“She didn’t just dump you!” Donny screamed. “She dumped this whole town—me included. I don’t think I can ever watch that channel again.” Donny jumped up and ran toward the television set hanging on the wall across the room. As he neared the set, he jumped as if he was an NBA player about to make a fantastic dunk. With one finger outstretched, he flew through the air and caught the power button. As he landed, the television went dark. “Please go,” he told Benny. “I need to be alone.”

“Um… OK. Call me if you need a hug,” Benny said in jest, picking up the newspaper.

“I do,” Donny said, getting up again and walking toward Benny.

Benny threw his hands up not believing the situation. Donny fell into his arms and trembled as he gave Benny a tremendous bear hug.

“You’ll get over this,” Benny said.

“I won’t,” Donny answered.

“Give it time.”

As Benny left he heard the door lock. When he turned around to see what was going on he saw Donny putting the “Closed” sign in the door window.

Is he for real? 
Benny thought. He peered at the front page of the paper and the headline read, “Murder. Again.” He tucked the paper under his arm and made his way back to the houseboat with
Birdsongs
painted on its stem and stern.

With the coffee maker dripping, Benny read the front page story in the
Tilley Bee
and thought about his old friend Jerry Lee, who at one time wrote for and edited the newspaper. Jerry Lee had been an unusual soul who made up his own curse words, and in honor of him, Benny said aloud to no one, “Peanuts!”

With coffee in hand, Benny sat on the top deck of
Birdsongs
and listened to the morning. He heard a few boat motors coming and going, birds, waves, and his own breathing. He realized that once again, without Rachael, he was alone. He tried to think good thoughts. At forty-nine, he was still in good health. He had fantastic black hair that still curled if grown past a certain point. His chameleon eyes still stopped people on the street. His fit body and deep voice were now back on the market, and if Benny could have heard the undertones of the city, he would have heard the women of Tilley rejoicing.