Kentucky Murders: A Small Town Murder Mystery (9 page)

Max didn’t look at Zack while he answered, “Max always walks. It’s not far,” and he shook his head to say no.

“Come on. I’m going that way.” Zack sped up and pulled off the road at an angle that blocked Max’s way. He leaned over, pulled the passenger door release, and the door opened. “Please,” he said as Max approached. “I want to talk.”

Max stopped and bent over to look through the open door at Zack. He actually cracked a smile. Without a word, he climbed in, fastened his seatbelt, and pointed ahead. “That way,” he said.

About half a mile up, Max began waving his hands and rocking in the seat. “There! There! Max road.” He pointed at an upcoming dirt road while fumbling to release his seat belt.

“Wait,” said Zack, placing his hand to keep Max from removing his seat belt. “I’ll take you all the way to your house. It’s okay.” Zack turned off onto the dirt road leading into the woods. “Okay?” He stopped the car and waited for Max’s permission.

Max looked up the road, then back at Zack. After all these years of being tricked and made fun of, Max’s trust of mankind had worn thin. After a few seconds, Max nodded. Zack felt that Max had just paid him a compliment and had made a gesture of friendship.

The grassy road led into a tunnel of trees. Knee-high grass scraped under and along the sides of the Camaro. Zack rose up in the seat to look over the hood. “Is it clear?”

Max tilted his head to the side and frowned in confusion.

“You know,” Zack clarified, “Are there any fallen trees or rocks I might run into?” He motioned with his fists, slamming them together like cars hitting each other. “You know, crash.”

Max’s eyes brightened. He smiled again and said, “No. Okay, okay. Good road.”

Zack drove along at 5 miles per hour, using the gap in the trees to guide him. After about five minutes, the road ended abruptly with an open grassy field, about 200 yards across. A weathered, unpainted shack stood in the middle, with a matching, smaller outhouse off to the side. Zack pulled up near the front door, probably the only door, and cut the engine. “Mind if I come in?”

Max didn’t hesitate this time. “Okay,” he said, climbing out of the car.

The shack surprised Zack on the inside. The wooden floor glimmered as if it had been polished many times by hand. Filling one wall was a beautiful stone fireplace with an old-fashioned pot hanging over burnt out cinders. Across from the fireplace stood a small, worn, wooden table covered with a checkered tablecloth. A single candle secured with wax drippings stood on a small plate at the center of the table and two straight-backed wooden chairs hid under each side. Straight ahead stretched a sagging couch, which was covered with a clean white sheet.

Max walked to the fireplace and laid three fresh logs below the heavy pot. He then removed the pot and took it with him outside. Zack had taken a seat on the couch, but now stood and went to the window to watch. Max walked to a water pump some thirty yards from the house and began hand-pumping to fill the pot.

He returned a few minutes later and prepared a vegetable stew. He used food that was kept fresh in an ice chest, from which he had dumped a day’s worth of melted ice. Zack had seen him taking a bag of ice home from work every few days, and now he knew why. The whole time, Max went about his business as if Zack weren’t there.

Zack finally spoke up, “How long have you lived here?” he asked, not really knowing what else to say.

Max slowly turned to him. “Mama dead and Max move here.”

“You mean you bought the place?”

Max shook his head no. “Max move here. That’s all.”

Zack decided to change the subject. “You keep it very clean, just like the factory.”

Max smiled and wiggled his body back and forth in his chair. “Max number-one janitor. Mr. Frank says so.”

They both fell silent for a minute, watching the fire heat the pot. Then Zack spoke. “Does Tommy always give you such a hard time?”

Max looked down, and a glum expression crossed his face.

“Well?” asked Zack getting a bit impatient at Max’s slow response. “Does he?” Somehow Zack felt responsible for Max. Tommy had no right to treat him badly, and Zack wished there was some way that Max could fight back and stand up for himself.

“It’s okay,” said Max, shrugging. “Max don’t mind.”

“But, Max, you have at least fifty pounds on Tommy, and you’re six inches taller. If you stood up to him and let him know that you’re not going to take it anymore, he might back down. Besides, what could he do to you?”

“Max fight?” He asked, perplexed.

“That’s probably not a good idea. But if you just acted as if you were willing to fight, I don’t think Tommy would do anything. Besides, he could lose his job the next time he is caught fighting. I don’t think he’d risk it.”

Max sat back, thinking. “Don’t know,” he said, finally. “Tommy’s bad. I don’t like Tommy.”

“That’s the whole point. If you don’t stand up to him, he’ll keep on bothering you. If you let him know that you won’t take it, he’ll probably leave you alone.” Zack didn’t know if he was getting through to Max or not. He knew that Max was his friend, and he couldn’t stand seeing that bully constantly harassing him.

“How?” asked Max.

“The next time he does something to you that you don’t like, tell him to leave you alone. Step up close to him and don’t back down. Like this.” He motioned for Max to stand. Then he stepped up to him; his face came even with Max’s chest. “Get right up like this.” They were only a few inches apart, and Zack looked up at Max. “Then say ‘leave me alone’ in a strong voice and wait. He’ll back down. I guarantee it.”

Max smiled, then laughed, and jumped up and down. “Max stand up! Max don’t take it anymore.” He reached down, slid his hands under Zack’s armpits, and lifted him off his feet like he might lift a baby. Pulling Zack’s face close to his, he said, “Leave Max alone, Tommy.” He then gave what he must have thought was a mean look. Zack burst out laughing.

Max set him back down on the floor and moved over to tend the fire. They both didn’t speak for several minutes. Zack wondered if giving advice to Max had been the right thing to do.

Then Max stepped over to the window. Changing the subject completely, he said, “Zack’s ca
r
” He paused, thinking. “Cool! Zack’s car is cool,” he said, smiling.

“I like it.”

“Sometime you teach Max to drive. Okay?” He stood back in front of Zack, his eyes wide with hope.

“You mean in my car?” Friendship was one thing, but the thought of Max behind the wheel of his Camaro was scary.

“No, no. Max buy car. Then Zack teach.”

“Ah, yeah, I guess. But Ma
x
” How could he explain? “You see, buying a car is kind of complicated. Besides the original cost, you’ve got upkeep and maintenance, and then there’s the cost of insurance and gas. Max, a good car would cost thousands of dollars.”

Max smiled and hurried across the room. “Max has money,” he said. At his bed, he reached down with one hand and lifted the mattress. With the other hand, he felt around underneath. The mattress flopped back down into position after he retrieved the packet, and he faced Zack with a large manila envelope in his hand. Zack remembered the envelope that had contained his money. He reached inside and pulled out a stack of money. Zack saw that most were hundred dollar bills. “See.”

“Holy … Max, where’d you get all that money?”

“Max save. Frank teach me.”

Max had been working at the factory for how many years--ten, maybe fifteen? He’d spend some, but probably only half of each paycheck. What else would he do with the left over cash each week? “How much do you have there?”

He looked down, then back up at Zack. “Don’t know,” he said with a shrug.

“Over here,” said Zack, motioning him to the table. “We’ll count it.”

Ten minutes later, Zack leaned back in his chair. He sighed. “You have $10,462.” He couldn’t believe it.

“Can Max buy a car?”

“Yes, Max, you can buy a really nice car. But you should keep this money in the bank, where it will be safe. Also, you could have earned interest.”

“Interest?”

Zack wasn’t about to try to explain interest to him. Checking his watch, he figured the bank was closed for the day. “I’ll take you to the bank tomorrow after work. They’ll hold your money for you until you need it. That way, no one can steal it.”

Max’s eyes narrowed.

“It’s okay, Max. Trust me.”

“Okay,” he said, not sounding at all convinced.

The stew began to boil in the big pot. Max asked, “You eat?”

“Sorry, I can’t. Gotta go,” Zack headed for the door. “Hide that money, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye-bye,” called Max.

Zack waved and left.

---

After leaving Max’s house, he drove into town. He hadn’t seen Kate on Saturday or Sunday, and he hoped that she wouldn’t get the wrong impression. He had wanted them to have time to cool down, to see how they felt after a few days apart. Love or lust, he wasn’t sure what he felt, maybe a little of both. Whatever his feelings were, he felt them stir inside him again as he pulled up to the diner.

“Hi, Kate,” he called, as he slid into a booth. She looked really good. Man, he had really missed her.

She half-smiled, but mostly glared. Grabbing a menu and walking toward him, she said frostily, “I thought you’d skipped town.” She slapped his menu down with attitude.

“Not a chance. I just needed time to think. You won’t get rid of me that easy.”

“Good,” she said, relieved. She looked back across the diner. “I did some thinking, too. Just a minute,” she said, as she went to deliver an order to another table. Kate wasn’t about to let this chance pass her by. She was willing to do whatever it took to make the most of this opportunity. She had been too indecisive and passive about going to college and about her relationship with Tommy. She had thought about Saturday night and her confrontation with Tommy. This time, Kate decided that she was going to steer her own course. “Would you like to go out tomorrow night?” she said out of the blue when she returned.

Zack’s jaw dropped. “You’re asking me out on a date?”

“Sure, why not?”

“You’re always talking about this being a smal
l
”

“Small town, yeah, I know, but I decided it’s time I joined the rest of the human race. Don’t girls ask guys out in Detroit?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“So?”

He sat back. No girl had ever asked him out before, not even in Detroit. This must mean she really cared for him. “Well, it’s a work night,” he said, smiling. Then, after pausing for a few seconds, he said, “Sure. I’d be happy to go out with you.”

“Okay and I’m buying.”

“But--”

“But, what? I work. I’ve got money. And I’m buying.”

Zack raised his hands. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Pick me up at, let’s se
e
I get off at seven, so make it eight, and don’t worry; I’ll get you home early, so you can get enough sleep for work. She added teasingly, “I don’t have to get up ’til noon.” She tilted her head and laughed.

“Must be nice.” He opened his menu. “Right now, I’m starving.”

Chapter 18

Tuesday, Zack pulled up at Kate’s house just before eight. He thought about Max. They’d gone to the bank after work, but Max had refused to deposit his money. No matter what Zack or the bank teller had said, Max wouldn’t give in. He just couldn’t understand that he wasn’t giving away his money. Finally, they had both given up. Max would have to decide on his own to use the bank or take his chances.

He had opened Kate’s gate and had started up the walk when the front door opened, and Kate stepped out into the light that filtered down from the fixture on the porch ceiling. She turned back inside for a second, said something, and then closed the door. He couldn’t help staring as she came down the steps toward him. She wore tight, stonewashed jeans that showed off her figure, an off-shoulder sky blue blouse, and cowgirl boots. She descended the porch stairs and came toward him.

“Hi, Zack. You’re right on time. I like that in my men.” She smiled coyly. Her hair looked different. It hung straight and seemed to be shorter than he remembered, not even to her shoulders.

“Your hair?”

“I got it cut. Like it?”

“Yea, I do.”

“Figured I could use a change.”

Zack turned as she approached him, and he lifted his arm to bring her close to his side. She slid her arm under his, and they strolled, smiling at each other, to the car. Opening her door, he asked, “So, where are you taking me?”

She waited until he got into the car and they had pulled away from curb before answering. “Let’s see,” she looked at her watch. “It’s too late for the movies; they’ve already started. How about let’s try Zeb’s?”

“What’s that?”

“It’s the only nightclub or bar around here that has a live band. Do you like to dance?”