The Hunt Chronicles: Volume 1 (12 page)

“It’s all a
lie. 
A great big goddamn lie.
 
He
did
it and he’s trying to pin it on me!”  Walters took a leap forward and
grabbed Cheryl by the shoulders.  Sills met him and tore the bandage off
her hand.  There was a healing wound there, but it was no cut.  Teeth
marks were still clearly imprinted in the woman’s flesh.  “That could be
anything!”  She screamed.

“Yeah,” I said
walking towards her.  “Let me guess; your attorney is going to say
something sappy like you got those marks from a duckling you were feeding in
the park at two a.m. this morning.  Or from that Gila monster you found
under your bed, right?  Whatever garbage he pours on the jury, he still
won’t be able to dodge your fingerprints.”  She looked at me, dumbfound.

“What prints?” 
She hissed.

“Those teeth marks
tell me you weren’t wearing gloves last night.  Why would you wear
them?  You didn’t use a weapon like your brother did.  You used your
bare hands.  Unfortunately for you, you left fingerprints and maybe even
blood on the glass and tray when you put them back on the table.  
Thomas was surely only one who handled those things before he brought them to
Wilson.”  Thomas nodded.  “There is no other reason why your prints
would be on that glass and tray unless you picked them up after
you
killed
him.”

The detectives
looked at each other and then at me.  Sills jumped into a canter and
headed for Wilson’s room.  We waited there in silence for his return. 
When he did, he had his hand in a white glove and he was balancing the tray and
glass on the palm of one hand.  I would later find out that Cheryl did
leave prints on the tray and the glass…the
chipped
glass.  None of
the officers had bothered to consider the tray and the glass evidence, so no
one bothered to dust them.

The room stood
silent as we stared at Cheryl.  She had stopped crying and struggling with
Walters.  She was staring right at me.  “Can I say something?” 
She asked.

“Why
not, sweetie?”
  Walters said
sarcastically.

“
Piss off
!” 
She screamed and bum-rushed the big man.
  She
caught him off guard and knocked him into the wall.  She rushed towards me
and shoved me aside like a rag doll.  I heard Richard and Thomas scream
her name while Nona just screamed with panic.  I was on the floor.  I
rolled over to see Cheryl opening the front door and stop dead in her
tracks.  A uniformed officer was standing there in the doorway.  He
stepped forward swiftly and grabbed Cheryl’s wrist.  She spun around and I
heard the handcuffs click into place.

Walters straightened
himself up and walked towards Cheryl and the officer.  Sills
followed. 
Maddie
helped me off the floor and
hugged me tight.  “My God, are you okay?”  She whispered, starting to
cry.

“I’m alright,” I
said.  “It’s all over.”

“It’s true,” Cheryl
declared.  “It’s all true.  I killed the selfish old bastard with my
own hands.  I didn’t plan to.  I went in to talk to him.  I saw
him
laying
there with a grin on his face and it made
me so angry.

“When Donald came
home drunk, I brought him into the kitchen.  After getting his attention,
I started provoking him.  He got angry, really angry, just as I
hoped.  That’s why he stabbed our father, making the perfect
scapegoat.  He’s always been a perfect scapegoat,” she said with disdain
for them both.

“Did you do this all
for the money?”  Richard asked.  “Dad had more than enough for us
all.  All you had to do was tough it out a little while longer,
Cheryl.  You’re the oldest; you would have gotten the most.  I can’t
believe you did all of this for the money.”  A feeling that looked
something like remorse slipped over Cheryl’s face.

“It wasn’t all about
the money, Richard.  I did it for Lewis and me.  Dad would never let
us get married; not with Lewis’ father being who he is.  I did it for
love.”         

“Oh cry me a
river!”  Nona said.  I wanted to laugh, but I held it back.

“Let’s go,
ma’am.  We’ve got a lot of things to sort out.”  With that they were
gone.  The five of us that were left behind just hovered there in the
foyer for a few minutes.  Then they broke down all over again.  I
drew them all close.  I spent the night and a good chunk of the morning
consoling them all, regaining composure, reestablishing order.  There were
a lot of hugs and tears, and eye rolling.

Richard drove me to
the airport.  We barely spoke on the way there.  I guess neither of
us knew what to say.  Richard was wearing a look of bewilderment and I
asked him about it. 
“Something wrong?”
      

“You saved my
brother’s life, you know.”

“I guess,” I
replied.

“Thank you. 
You did
good
.  You should have never quit
teaching, you know.”  I smiled and stared out the window.

“Actually Richard,
it’s
you did well
.”  We both laughed so hard Richard nearly drove
off the road and killed us both.

The whole sorted
affair changed the lives of everyone involved.  My sister finally retired
after Richard forced her to do so.  He invited her to live at McCune Hall
and insisted that she be waited on hand and foot for the rest of her
life.  She graciously accepted, though she continues to dust everything in
the house herself.  As suspected, Wilson did leave
Maddie
a very nice severance package, as it were.  In a recent letter she invited
me along on one of her fabulous excursions across America in a Winnebago. 
I quickly declined, then burned the letter.

Thomas and Nona
Freely remain in Connecticut but they no longer serve the McCune family. 
Just as planned, the two of them had enough money to buy a small palace of
their own.  It doesn’t have fourteen bathrooms or servants quarters, but
it’s big enough to need a maid’s help. 
Maddie
turned down the offer, but Sneezing Sue
Wicketts
did
not.

There was a brief
legal entanglement for Donald but he never saw the inside of a jail cell after
Cheryl confessed.  He’s decided to attend Alcoholics Anonymous and become
a functioning part of society.  In cases like this I usually say I’ll
believe it when I see it, but Donald has my faith in more ways than one.

Richard’s business
did slump a bit during the unpleasantness but not for very long.  He went
into a partnership with his brother and together they own and successfully
operate the most popular restaurant in the state.  There’s even talk of a
chain expansion now.  The new restaurant name,
McCune’s
, was
Richard’s idea.  It seems old Wilson ended up helping Donald out after
all.

Cheryl was convicted
of murdering her father and her story ends there.  A recent newspaper
article captured her beautifully, stamping numbers onto license plates.

As for me, I
returned home to Pendleton and attempted to resume some resemblance of my
normal life.  Retired life was nothing short of
blissful
when I
left to be at my ailing sister’s side, but I was in for a nasty surprise when I
returned home.  Cheryl McCune’s story was over; my own was just beginning.

Part
2

Curator
Conundrums

We
did not change as we grew older;

we
just became more
clearly ourselves.

Lynn
Hall

My name is Reevan
Hunt, and someone shot my neighbor.

Leon staggered backward,
fell off the curb and plowed into me, knocking me back into the car.  I
had seen the flash of light, and someone called out my name, and then I was on
my back on the car’s rear seat staring up at the ceiling.  I was a
helpless turtle.

More than one voice
started calling my name.  More flashes of light went off, some filling the
inside of Leon’s car with an offending brightness.  There were popping
sounds, and clicking sounds, and footsteps rushing towards us.  I heard
Leon scream “No! 
Stop!”
  I propped my head
up enough to see him; his right arm on the roof of the car, his left arm
shielding his face.  Then his
it
gnarled finger
pointed at me like the dying branch of some old tree.  “Don’t shoot me,
he’s
Reevan!” Leon exclaimed.  “
He’s
the one you want!”  My head
dropped back to the cushion of the seat.  My left hand eased its grip on
my duffle bag, and I took a deep breath.  I shut my eyes.  When they
opened again, the car was filled with light.  People were crowded around
peeking into every window.  They shouted and gestured, but they drowned
each other out, so all I heard was a steady inaudible hum.

I propped my head up
once more and met eyes with Leon, who quickly looked down at his shoes. 
“There is a word,” I said disappointedly, “for people like you, Leon; traitor.”

I slammed the door
as Leon squeezed inside.  Part of me wanted to leave him out there, but
the other part of me knew that if he were
mauled
out
there, I’d have to carry in the rest of my luggage by myself.  I locked the
deadbolt, spun around and glared at him across the room.  “I am so sorry,
Reevan.”

“You sold me out!” I
shouted back.

“I’m sorry, really
sorry.”  He walked over to the nearest window and peered out through the blinds. 
“They were like vultures on a carcass,” he said.

“Except these
vultures carry cameras and steno pads,” I said, walking away from the door and
dropping my duffle bag on the foyer floor.  “I didn’t think it would be so
bad here at home.  Everybody knows me, and nobody likes me.  Since
when do they care?”  Leon followed me into the kitchen and sat down at the
table as I headed for the fridge.

“Since you’re
famous,” he said, and even though I had my back to him, I could tell he was
grinning ear-to-ear.

“When will these
fifteen minutes of fame end?”  I asked, grabbing two cans of soda. 
“This is ridiculous.”

“If it makes you
feel better,” Leon said as he took a can, “surely there is a small town
somewhere in the backwoods of America that has never heard of you.  You
could move there.”  Leon offered a smile for his jest, and I returned a
pair of rolled eyes.

“I kept your papers
while you were gone.  I started cutting out clippings for you.  One
of them is really great.  The headline reads
Local Educator Teaches
Murderer a Lesson
.  I love that one.”

“You would,” I
replied, popping my can open.

“Oh, come on,” Leon
said, “
it’s
not really that bad, is it?”  I put
my can on the table and clasped my hands together in front of me.  With my
fingers laced together I began to squeeze harder and harder.  I noticed I
had picked up this nasty habit rather recently, whenever I felt like murdering
someone myself.

“You tell me,” I
began.  “How would you like to be called away from home out of the blue
after being told your sister is in the hospital?  How would you like to
spend a few days with a bunch of rich snobs only to be there when one of them
snaps and kills someone you had dinner with the night before?  Now I have
people following me everywhere, and talking to me, and taking my picture. 
I spent over an hour on that plane and I swear if one more person turned around
in their chair and breathed that airplane peanut breath on me, I was going to
jump!”  Leon snickered, and then stifled it.  He knew better. 

“Then you get home
and think you’re safe.  You think you can get back to normal, but you
can’t because you can’t get from the terminal to your friend’s car without
being asked to sign copies of the same Pendleton Herald eighteen times! 
Then the cameras, my God the cameras!  The flashes, the blinding
flashes!”  I realized then that I was screaming and finding it hard to
catch my breath.  I looked back at Leon, who was now holding his chin in
this right hand, still smiling like a young boy listening as his grandfather
told him old war stories.  “
You’re loving
this,
aren’t you?”  I asked.

“Yes, but why aren’t
you?”  He replied. 
“What is getting ‘back to
normal’ anyway, Reevan?
  Getting up at six only to fall asleep in
your recliner at
nine watching
PBS with a bowl of
cereal in your lap?  Then getting up around noon to eat lunch alone, maybe
go out and check the mailbox even though you know Joe doesn’t make it here until
two but you’re just too bored to sit down another second?  Maybe you pick
up a book, or take a drive to the corner and pick up some dinner for later, but
only for tonight’s dinner because you’ll need something to do tomorrow
afternoon between the Magnum, P.I. reruns and the I Love Lucy reruns?  All
just so you could go to bed at nine and do it all over again the day
after.  Is that what you’ve lost, Reevan?  Is that the ‘normal’
you’re so anxious to get back to?”  We sat there, two men staring each
other down like two boxers before the opening bell.  Leon Kinney was a
smart man; a former teacher, like me.  We’ve known each other since our
teaching days, and he probably already knew what I was going to say, even
though I wasn’t the slightest bit sure.  Then my eyes closed until only
slivers remained.  He knew it was coming, so I gave it to him.

“Have you been
spying on me?”  I blurted out, and he burst into laughter.

“Was I close?” 
He asked.

“Almost dead on,” I
said.  “Except some days I prefer the Discovery Channel, and I usually
fall asleep halfway through waffles, not cereal.”  Leon’s laughter
subsided.  He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“Enjoy it while it
lasts, Reevan.  Your precious routine will be back soon enough.  In
fact, I’ll bring Niki by tonight to speed the process along.”  That made
me smile.  I had missed my Niki while I was gone.  “Don’t forget
about dinner next week,” he said as he stood up from his chair.

“I’ll be there,” I
said, and the words left a disgusting taste in my mouth.  Leon had roped
me into being his guest at a retirement dinner for his boss, the Curator at the
Pendleton Museum of Science.  He conveniently waited until I got into his
car at the airport to ask me instead of mentioning it over the phone a week
before.  I was now stuck having dinner with a bunch of eggheads who were
probably all tree-hugging scientist vegetarians, which means I’d probably have
to stop for a burger on the way home.

Leon let himself
out, and I watched him meander down the walk to his car, ignoring the last
lingering reporters and onlookers.  He started his car up and in twenty
seconds he was out of sight.  Knowing Leon, he would call me the second he
got home (home being four houses down the street) because he forgot to tell me
something he wanted to mention. 
The dress code for the
dinner, or maybe the menu.
  He was so predictable. 
You
could get sick before
then,
you know
a familiar
voice in my head whispered. 
You’ve been through a lot lately. 
Plus now you’ve got jetlag, and a headache, and this pain in your arm that just
won’t go away.  If you don’t feel better by next week, you’ll have no
choice but to miss that dinner.
  I felt a smile come to my lips. 
Yes, that would work out just fine.

After several
minutes of savoring my new plan and enjoying the silence of my empty home, I
got up and reached for my duffle bag.  The phone rang.  My smile
widened as I answered it.  Good ole predictable Leon Kinney.  “Yes,
Leon,” I said into the receiver.

“You will not be
sick next week, Reevan, and you didn’t know McCune well enough to be overcome
with grief, so don’t bother trying that one either.”  Then there was a
dial tone.  I slowly hung the receiver back on its cradle and walked to my
bag.  As I picked it up and headed towards the stairs, the Little Reevan
spoke up once more, and I felt my smile grow.

Finally…back to
normal.

The next week would
go by very slowly as I found my way back into my usual customs, but all good
things take time.  Leon dropped off Niki as he promised.  I watched
them through the peephole as they strolled up the walk towards the front
door.  Niki stopped every few feet, no doubt smelling everyone that was on
the lawn that morning.  I eventually got tired of waiting and opened the
door.  She barreled up the walk towards me, tail wagging in the breeze
behind her.

Niki fell back into
rhythm almost immediately; bumping the doorknob with her nose when she was
ready for her evening constitutional.  We walked our usual route up
Lincoln Avenue, then crossed the street and walked all the way back to the
house, occasionally stopping near fire hydrants or elm trees to leave scented
messages to her friends around town.  I heard my phone ring as we got
closer to the house.  Niki and I broke into a trot, for me was really just
a brisk walk that ended in a lot of heavy breathing.  We got home and Niki
went straight for her water bowl.  I headed for the phone in time to pick
it up and hear the dial tone.  “Damn it,” I mumbled.  Niki looked up
at me.  “You could have sprinted ahead and answered it,” I said to
her.  Her head tilted to the side as if she seriously considered it, then
growled a throaty murmur and headed for the sofa in the living room. 
There we would fall asleep watching Law and Order.

So were our lives
that week.  The occasional reporter or nosey neighbor came knocking or
calling or peering through the windows in the kitchen.  I began looking
through the peephole before stepping outside for walks.  Niki seemed to
understand what was going on towards the end of the week; peacefully sitting at
the front door with her collar and leash on, watching me watch the yard. 
Is
it safe
her big eyes seemed to ask
me.
  I
would look back down at her and shoot a smile that got her tail wagging and
sweeping the floor behind her.  Then her head would tilt to the side again
and you’d swear she knew what I was thinking. 
Is it ever really safe?

Professor Arnold
Medley had apparently decided it was time for retirement.  He’d been the
Curator at the Pendleton Museum of Science for a good decade by then, and he
was no spring chicken, no one in town was really surprised. 
Science is
boring enough, but a Museum of Science must be even worse,
Little Reevan
interjected, and that was the attitude I had on my sleeves when Leon came to
pick me up.  “At least try to have a good time,” Leon pleaded.  His
voice had grown increasingly whiney since we left the house.  As we walked
up the narrow winding path connecting the Museum to the staff parking lot, he
seemed to resort to flat out begging.

“I’m just saying I’m
not going to fit in at all,” I said shoving my hands in my blazer
pockets.  “I’m not a science guy like the rest of you.  Why did you
ask me to come in the first place?”

“You’re the flavor
of the month, Reevan.  I thought you’d spark some lively dinner
conversation.  Science or not, you solved a murder.  How many people
can say that?”

“Several thousand
qualified police detectives,” I retorted, but he paid me no mind. We walked a
few more feet in silence, and then I finally gave up fighting and accepted the
inevitable.  “So who else will be here?”  Leon’s eyes lit up my
interest, feigned though it was.

“Emily
Sellars
will be there, and Dennis
Tr
-“

“Emily
Sellars
?” I interrupted.  “Why is she here?”  I
turned to Leon and met his eyes.  His smile grew.

“She’s the head of
the Human Sciences Department.  Surely you heard.”  I searched my
memory banks and found nothing.

“When did that
happen?  Why didn’t you tell me?  When did that happen?”  Leon
chuckled at me.

“That’s why I didn’t
tell you,” he said.  “Do you think I’d want a crotchety old bastard like
you lingering around my office for hours at a time just to get a glimpse of
your girlfriend?”

“She’s not my
girlfriend, she’s my physician,” I snapped.

“She’s the MD for
half the people in this town,” Leon snapped back.  “You don’t see anyone
else visiting her every time they cough or sneeze.”

“I thought it was
pneumonia.”  Leon snickered under his breath. When we arrived at the
museum entrance, I checked my reflection in a nearby window.  I looked
good despite the health problems I had been dreaming up all week.