Death is Long Overdue

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FOUR

I pulled Velma into the Quickie Cow and parked behind the building so no one could spot us. The Quickie Cow passes for fast food here in Miller’s Cove. It was an old Silverstream trailer converted into a kitchen with a counter. A few tables with umbrellas sat on a wooden deck attached on the side and back. It served the best jalapeno burgers and thickest peach shakes in the state. Most important was the payphone in the parking lot. Bless Ma Bell for her invention and forgetting it was still here.

“ What should I say?” I asked Juliet as I dug around for change in my leather messenger bag that doubled as my purse. I pulled out two quarters to call the sheriff.

“ Don’t tell them who you are. Try to disguise your voice and say there’s a dead body at 325 Oakwyn Street,” Juliet instructed. “Do not give out any more information than you have to and get off the phone fast. We need time to drive home before they send someone to Huey’s or here if they trace the call.”

I slipped my now too large gloves onto my hands and stepped out. I dropped the quarters into the slot and dialed the number for the sheriff. “Miller’s Cove Sheriff’s Office. How can I help you?” A deep voice I recognized answered. My stomach dropped into my hobbit-sized feet then flew back up into my throat.

I gulped and squeaked out, “I’d like to report a dead body.”

“ And your name?” Asked the voice that used to make my heart go pitter patter every day in high school, college, grad school…Oh, heck. Who was I kidding. Every single day since he befriended my brother Rick when I was ten years old. It was Clint Mason.

“ The body can be found at 325 Oakwyn Street. Mr. Huey Long,” I stammered out and started to hang up.

“ Ophelia Jefferson? Is that you? Phee?” Clint demanded. I slammed down the phone and ran back to the van. I started Velma and drove like my mom on her way to a Black Friday sale at Macy’s. My hands were clammy inside the leather gloves and sweat dripped off of me.

“ Well?” Juliet asked.

“ It was Clint. He recognized my voice when I said where they could find the body.” I inhaled deeply and tried to calm down. A glance at my speedometer made me realize I was going 55 in a 35 M.P.H. zone. I eased my foot off the pedal. “Busted. At least my orange jumpsuit will remind me of Velma while I am in the big house filing callouses off some hardened bank robber’s heels and being her bunk time wife.” I turned into the driveway of my 1920’s bungalow and parked.

“ Phee, you won’t go to jail. You went over there to pick up the books and found the door open. When you stumbled across his body, you panicked and left. You realized it was wrong to leave the scene of the crime, so you pulled into the Quickie Cow and called to report it. Everyone in town knows you. You’re so honest you make Abe Lincoln look like a pathological liar. You’ve got this, so chill the heck out,” Juliet said. “One more thing. My car is still a block from the crime scene which isn’t good. You need to get me over there pronto so I can move Ole Blue.”

I restarted Velma and drove the two miles back to Juliet’s convertible. An instantly recognizable convertible guaranteed to give us away if we didn’t burn rubber and leave. No sirens, and the streets seemed deserted. Clint might think it was a prank call. Juliet and I drinking one too many gin rickeys on our weekly girls’ night out.

“ I’ll follow you back to your house,” Juliet said. “I need a drink and you definitely need one. See you back at your place in just a few minutes.” She hopped out and walked to her car.

I once again headed down the road and turned onto Willow Street towards my home. As I pulled up, I saw a truck sitting in my driveway. Leaning against the side of it and talking on his cell phone was Deputy Clint Mason.