The Hunt Chronicles: Volume 1 (9 page)

“I believe I do,” I
replied.

Maddie
and I went back to her room and locked the
door.  We sat next to each other on her bed.  I looked her straight
in the eye and asked, “Do you think he did it?  Do you think Donald killed
his father?”

“I didn’t think so
at first,” she said, “but he was so drunk, Reevan.  I’ve never seen him
act violently when he drinks.  He usually gets a little tipsy and swears a
little, but that’s all.  I just don’t know what to think anymore. 
This family, this house is going to hell in a hand basket.  What do you
think?”

“I’m not making a
decision until I find out about the other people that live on this
property.  Do me a favor and leave me for a while.  The less you know
about what I’m going to do, the better off you’ll be.”  She stood up,
looked down at me hesitantly, and then headed for the door.

“Okay,”
Maddie
said and left the room.  After she shut the
door, she screamed through it, “There’s a phone book in the nightstand.” 
Next to
Maddie’s
clock rested a telephone.  I
reached for it with one hand as I pulled open the nightstand drawer with the
other.  I plopped the thick book on my lap and began flipping through
pages as I pulled the receiver to my ear.  I focused on the blue pages,
the government listings, but I wasn’t looking for Detective Walters with the
Wellington Police Department.  My finger trickled down the page and
stopped at the C’s.

“Bingo,” I mumbled
to myself, my finger hovering above
County Coroner
.

On the Grand List
of fine entertainment there lies the greatest of minds.  William
Shakespeare, Charles Dickens and Aristotle are just a few.  Aesop and
O’Henry
side by side on a library shelf.  Dumas and
Hugo share the spotlight as well.  Great actors, singers, dancers,
speakers, writers; they are the heart and soul of the word
entertainment
.

However, we each
have our own list, separate from the Grand List but just as important and reliable. 
My list contained Aesop and
O’Henry
, Dickens and Poe,
as well as two others that were the only ones I really needed after dialing the
County Coroner’s office.  Step aside Lewis Carroll, ciao
bella
Bulfinch; come on down Yosemite Sam and Foghorn Leghorn.

“Coroner’s office,”
a small, nerdy voice said after it picked up the phone.

“Howdy!” I bellowed
into the phone, instantly feeling ridiculous.  Walters may have been
southern but he wasn’t Yosemite Sam southern.  Then again, I didn’t really
know him well enough to make the call, so what the hell.  Caution to the
wind, I went for the gusto.  I could always hang up and deny the whole
thing. 
Foghorn Leghorn
bring
it home!

“Excuse me?” 
The voice said.

“Excuse you? 
Why the hell should I, boy?”

“Oh, Detective
Walters, it’s you.  You sounded a bit muffled there. 
You
feelin
’
okay?”

“Feeling
fine,
sa
!”
Sa
being the southern equivalent of
Sir
. 
“Thank you kindly.  I just got a question or two and then I’ll leave you
to your business.”  I was settling into the role by then.  The twang
began to flow naturally.

“What do you need?”

“I need some details
on that there McCune body.”

“Oh
yeah, McCune.
  Well actually
Walters, that one just came in.  I haven’t finished my examination
completely.”

“Don’t dance around
the hen house, boy! 
Gimme
 
what
you got!”

“Dance around the
what?”

“Come on now, give
it to me!  Start with the nails. 
Watcha
got under there; Skin?
Blood?”
  I heard the phone
jostle in the nerdy man’s hands.  Paper was rustling.  The young
man’s breathing started to hasten under the pressure.

“Well, that was
relatively easy.  There was nothing under his nails.”  I went
blank.  I was prepared for something, I just didn’t know what.

“What do you
mean
,
nothin
’?”

“I mean
nothing
,
Detective. 
Nada, zip, zilch.
 
Nothing of interest anyway.
  No blood, no skin other
than his own
, no loose threads or fibers.  Just the
usual nail gunk, dirt and etcetera.”

“But wouldn’t the
man have tried to fight his attacker?  Claw and scratch?”

“We both know the
answer to that question.”  I assumed the answer was yes.  “Mr.
McCune’s muscle mass in his arms is almost nonexistent.  Besides flipping
someone the bird, this guy couldn’t fight off a kitten.”  Some more pages
rustled as I sighed heavily.  “Oh, but there is one thing…”

“What?”

“Frankly, I’m
surprised your guy at the scene missed it.”

“What?  Missed
what?”

“He must have
thought that the nails would have given you guys a cut and dry case.”

“What the hell did
he miss, pencil neck?”

“Oh,
sorry, sorry.
  Well I noticed
it when they wheeled him in.  Mr. McCune suffered hemorrhages around his
eyes.  You see, that happens when-” and I faded out to somewhere
else.  My mind floated back in time to the last time I was in Wilson’s
room.

Okay, the
examiner is sitting on the bed, picking at Wilson’s fingers.  Check. 
The window is opened and Wilson’s chair is under it.  Check. 
The pill and the glass.
 
The wet
spot.
 
The dresser.
 
The open drawers.
 
The clock.
 
I’m sitting on the edge of the bed now.  I can feel the aura of his dead
body behind me.  I’m staring at Wilson.  I’m in bed with a dead
man.  I’m in bed with a dead man.  I’m in bed and

“Oh my God, you’re
right.”

“What? 
Hello?  Who is this?  Where is Detective Walters?” 
The jig
is up
Little Reevan screamed, rattling my brain from the inside. 
You
slipped out of character.  You would’ve been kicked out of drama club for
that…if you were in drama club.
  I had to think fast.  What to
say…what to do…I couldn’t hang up, could I?  He’d know it was all a
scam.  What to say…what to say…in the name of Yosemite and Foghorn and
Bugs and all that the Warner Brothers stood for, what was I to say?

“That’s all,
folks!”  I blurted in a panic, slamming down the phone.  My heart was
pounding.  Though fear enveloped my body, I distinctly remember a smile
pulling at the corners of my mouth. 
Hemorrhaging
around the eyes
.
  That meant something.  I had seen it
that morning in McCune’s room, but I was too
creeped
out to let it register.  I had two more calls to make.  The first was
to the Wellington Courthouse. The second was to Detective Walters.

“Well, what did he
say?” 
Maddie
was jumping up and down like a
teenager at a rock concert.  “Well?”

“He said no.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Not a one?”

“Not a single one.”

“Not
a single what?”
  Nona
asked. 
Maddie
and I were sitting in the dining
room while listened from the kitchen.  She had crept up on us by then and
made us both jump. 
Someone put a bell around her chubby neck
.

“None of the others
are suspects,”
Maddie
said.

“How can that
be?  Not a one of them?  Don’t tell me they all had alibis.”

“Well, oddly enough,
yes, they all did.  Apparently yesterday was a stableman’s birthday and-”

“Oh
my gosh
, it was Gus’ birthday?  I can’t believe
it.  How old is he now,
Maddie
? 
Seventy-two?
 
Seventy-three?
 
Did you get him anything?  I can’t believe I forgot!”

“I know,”
Maddie
replied.  “Seems like yesterday we were
throwing him a birthday par-”

“Ladies,
please!”  I shouted.  They clammed up.

“So what does Gus’
birthday have to do with anything?” 
Maddie
finally asked.

“Apparently Gus had
a surprise birthday party.  They tricked him into going back by the
stables and then sprang it on him.  After they revived him, they started
the party.” 
Maddie’s
eyes got wider.

“The sheds are
towards the other end of the estate.  No wonder we didn’t hear anything
last night.”

“Precisely,” I
said.  “How come neither of you knew about this party?”

“It’s nothing new,”
Maddie
explained.  “We rarely get included in anything
the others do. 
Their too scared of saying the wrong
thing and then one of us telling Wilson.”

“But they couldn’t
have all been there last night.  And the ones who were couldn’t have
stayed
all
night,” Nona said.

“That’s true and
false,” I said, cracking my knuckles.  “No, they weren’t all there last
night.  One worker by the name of Susan
Wicketts
was not there.” 
Maddie
and Nona’s eyes glowed
with delight, apparently pleased by the thought that they could swap Donald for
a coworker in prison.  “Sorry girls, Susan apparently came down with the
flu three days ago and has been staying in one of the cottages, bed
ridden.  And before you ask, yes, Detective Walters did go to check her
out.  Poor thing looked like she had a purple water balloon crammed into
her mouth from what I heard.  There is no way she killed anyone.”

“What about the
others?  They all probably left at around one or two a.m.  Any one of
them could have done it.”

“I don’t think
so.  No one really knew how much of a party animal old Gus has
become.  I guess all you have to do is fuel him up with a couple of
tequila shooters and he’ll run all night.  That party didn’t rap up until
nearly three or four, and even then they would all have been too drunk to walk
across the lawn, never mind kill someone.”

“It’s possible one
of them slipped away from the party, isn’t it?”

“Possible, but not
likely,” I said.  “Why bother?  No one out there had a motive to kill
anybody in here.  Most them never even met Wilson in person; they were
hired by the Stable Master or Landscaper, or one of the other supervisors.”

“Well I don’t think
that-”

“Unfortunately
Nona,” I interjected, tired of the conversation, “it doesn’t matter what you
think, or what I think or
Maddie
thinks. 
Walters described them all as
non-suspects
and Donald is all the police
have.  We’re back to square one.”  Nona got huffy and stomped back
into the kitchen.  She was in there for less than two minutes before I
heard weeping emanate through the halls.

“Has anyone seen my
paring knife?”  She called out, trying to stifle her own sobs. 
Neither
Maddie
nor I answered.

“Well now what,
Reevan?”

“I just don’t know
Maddie
.  I’m all out of ideas.”

“I said has anyone
seen my paring knife?”

“But you always know
what to do, Reevan.  Think of something.”

“I don’t know,
Maddie
.  Maybe Donald did kill his father.”

“How can you say
that, Reevan?  You’ve known the boy for years.”

“He’s not a boy
anymore,
Maddie
.  He’s a man, and he’s
responsible for his act-”

“
Has anyone seen
my paring knife?
”  Nona was screaming at us as she leaned through the
serving window. 
Maddie’s
mouth drooped to a
stone frown.  She got up and slowly turned toward Nona.  I followed
her into the kitchen, the whole time wondering if I’d have to pull my sister’s
hands off from around the chubby cook’s neck.  Nona was backing out of the
window and across the kitchen as
Maddie
drew
near.  There were fresh tears dripping down the sides of her face.  I
stopped at the doorway, not wanting to get splattered with blood should my
sister punch her lights out.  Nona finally backed against the counter next
to the fridge. 
Nowhere to go, little piggy
.
 
She was trapped. 
Maddie
reached out a hand.

Nona stepped out of
the way as
Maddie
grabbed the refrigerator door
handle.   
Maddie
pulled open the
fridge, bent over, and rummaged around inside.  She pulled out a plate
holding with pieces of sliced fruit.  Underneath the plastic wrap was
sliced strawberries, cantaloupe, watermelon, and one paring knife. 
Maddie
pulled it out and handed it to Nona
forcefully.  “It was right there, where you always leave it.”  With
that, she turned and walked past me, resuming her spot at the table.  My
heart was racing. Nona’s face was red.  She looked up at me,
embarrassed.  I shrugged and smiled.