Jason Deas - Benny James 03 - Brushed Away (3 page)

Benny knew Vernon would be awake and called him after his second cup of coffee.

“What are you doing up so early?” Vernon asked.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“You want to get an early start?”

“Might as well,” Benny answered.

“Where’re you gonna start?”

“Oglethorpe place. I hear two of the residents are artists. Maybe they can tell me where to start.”

“I hear the uncle is a crazy old coot.”

“You know I love crazies. Did you find anything out about the vic?”

“We’re working on it. I’ll have something definite by lunch. You want to meet?”

“Yeah. Meet me at the marina at noon and I’ll throw something together. Did Rene say when she was going to reopen?”

“Tomorrow. She doesn’t think anybody would eat there even if she opened today. She was going to take the week off but said she couldn’t afford it. She said the food spoilage alone would cost her a couple thousand dollars. I guess she buys everything fresh. Doesn’t she live in the same marina as you?”

“No. She lives across the lake.”

“Maybe after lunch we can both go over and talk to her.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“See you at noon.”

“If I’m not back, just let yourself in with your key and make yourself at home.”

“You know I will.”

After hanging up the phone, Benny poured himself one more cup of coffee and got ready for the day. On his way to his Jeep, he noticed the sign in Donny’s window was still reading “Closed.” Benny couldn’t help but laugh.

As Benny drove down the Oglethorpe’s long dirt drive, he stopped once again to marvel at the giant metal sculptures. Just as he put the vehicle back in gear an animal bolted across the road in front of him and disappeared in between some bushes on the other side. It all happened so fast, Benny couldn’t decide what kind of animal it was. He knew it was as tall as a horse, but he could have sworn it stood vertically like a kangaroo or a human. And it was fast! Images of the cartoon Roadrunner flew through his mind, and Benny couldn’t help saying aloud, “Beep, beep.”
It’s going to be a strange day
, he thought.

An older man stood in front of the Oglethorpe house with a worried look on his face. Benny couldn’t tell how old he was as his skin was lobster red and glowing with some sort of lotion Benny imagined to be aloe. The man wore overalls without a shirt underneath and as Benny neared, he noticed the man pull a tube of lotion out of his pocket. He squirted some in his hands and rubbed his shoulders and arms. He even rubbed a handful through his white hair, massaging his scalp. The man noticed Benny’s Jeep and stuffed the tube of lotion back into his pocket.

Before Benny could even get the car in park, the man was at his door.

“Did you find her?” the man asked.

“Who are we talking about?”

“About this tall,” the man said, holding his hand in the air above his head. “Fast as hell. White. Black. Peachy pink.”

Benny got out of the Jeep. “We’re not talking about a person I assume?”

“Nope. We’re talking about Clarice.”

“And Clarice is?”

“Shifty.”

“And?”

“Lost.”

“What kind of animal is Clarice?”

“Ostrich.”

“Thank you. I think I may have seen her,” Benny said remembering the streak that ran across the road in front of him. “I saw her back by your crane sculpture.”

“I knew it,” the man said. “She thinks I like her better and she’s mad because I wouldn’t make her a BLT last night.”

“That would make me mad as well. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Yes. Scream like I’m kicking your ass.”

“What?”

“Clarice don’t like violence. If she thinks I’m beating you up, she’ll come running and knock me over. Then I can apologize and make her a BLT.”

“OK,” Benny said, wondering if he really was still asleep and dreaming. “How do I start?”

“Just act like I’m hitting you and kicking you over and over again.”

“OK.” Benny had been in some weird situations before, but he decided this one was even stranger than the day he met Red. He took a deep breath and put on an Oscar worthy performance of having his ass kicked. “Stop! Ouch! Ow!…”

Thirty seconds later a black and white streak tore across the yard and knocked the man in overalls down. The angry ostrich stood over him and glared down into his eyes.

“Tell her you’re OK,” the man yelled. “And call her by name.”

“I’m OK, Clarice. Let him go. Clarice, I’m OK.”

The ostrich took a step back as the man got off the ground.

“You are so stubborn,” he said to the tall bird. “If you want to eat your friends, then fine, you can have a BLT.” The man nodded his head up and down as if the ostrich was talking and he was listening. “I know, pigs are stupid.” He listened again and nodded. “Yes, they are delicious and I’m sorry. I won’t ever eat a BLT in front of you again without sharing. Will you get back inside the fence now? I have a visitor.”

The man turned and walked toward the back of the house and the ostrich followed. Benny followed as well. At the back of the house, the man opened a gate and the ostrich walked inside. The man shut the gate and turned to Benny.

“Thanks,” he said pulling the tube of aloe out of his pocket again.

“You’re welcome. I’m guessing you’re Karl?”

“You can call me Uncle Karl.”

“Um… OK.”

“Do me a favor,” Uncle Karl said. “Put some of this on my back.”

Before Benny could object, he squirted a handful of aloe into Benny’s hands and turned around. White hairs stood above red skin. Benny took a deep breath and began rubbing.

“Oh yeah,” Uncle Karl moaned. “Right there. Oh. Oh. Yeah.”

When Benny finished, Uncle Karl turned around and flashed him an unusual smile. Benny thought he was about to speak, but he didn’t.

“That’s one hell of a sunburn,” Benny finally said.

“Arc welder did it.”

“What? How?”

“I got drunk last night and decided to weld a few pieces together in my studio. I had my shirt off and forgot that the light from an arc welder is just as bright, or brighter than the sun. Woke up in hell this morning and couldn’t figure out what had happened last night. I finally remembered my welding and it all clicked.”

“Interesting.”

“Who are you anyway?”

“Benny James. I gave Angel a ride home yesterday and she told me you were an artist. I’m also friends with Red.”

“Son of a monkey! Red! Any friend of Red’s is a friend of mine. That kid grows the best tomatoes this side of the Mississippi. Are you the Benny he talks about?”

“That’s me.”

“Are you here to steal my ostrich?”

“No. I want some information about art.”

“Then you came to the right spot.”

Chapter 4

Vernon pored over documents back at department headquarters. Something did not add up, and he was miffed. Although he treasured his friendship with Benny, Vernon dreamed of being his equal. He knew he would most probably never work for the FBI, but he knew his mind was sharp, and his ability to solve crimes was above average. He wanted to unravel this problem without Benny’s help.

As Vernon waited on an identification of the victim, the reports from his deputies kept coming in. It appeared that no one had seen anything. The camp attendant even assured him after double and triple checking, that the site was not rented on the night in question. The camp attendant also ascertained that the gates to the campground closed promptly at ten thirty every night, and there was no possible way to get around the gates without driving across the site where his personal camper was parked.

Vernon decided to give him one more call.

“Hello Officer Kearns. Would you like me to check the registry a fourth time?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Vernon answered. “You were telling me earlier that your camper is parked near the main gate.”

“Yes. We close the gates so people can’t enter the park after hours and use the park without registering. It covers a lot of problems like high schoolers having parties and leaving before a camp attendant is on duty. Before the gates, we had a lot of problems with that. Not only did they not pay, they left all their beer bottles and trash around the sites.”

“And you said it’s impossible to drive around the gate?”

“No. It’s not impossible. Somebody could do it, but if I didn’t see it, I’d hear it. Even if they turned out their headlights, I swear to you I would hear it. And if I didn’t, my dog would, and she would bark her head off.”

“Perfect,” Vernon said. “I know how they got in.”

“Huh?” the camp attendant asked, but Vernon was already headed to his car.

Vernon knew the campground was still closed, but flew down the roads anyway. His hands tightly gripped the steering wheel as he gritted his teeth with anticipation. His foot that was not on the accelerator tapped with excess energy.

Vernon drove up to the gates of the Talking Pines Campground. Officer Andy Mandelino recognized his car and pulled the gate open.

“What’s up Vernon?” Officer Mandelino asked.

“Just had a wild idea,” Vernon stated. “I’ll radio you in a minute. If what I’m thinking is right, we’re going to need to get the team back over here to take some more photos and to collect evidence.”

“I hope you’re right. I’ll be listening.”

Vernon parked the car at site number four. Yellow tape still surrounded the camping area. The body, of course, had been removed from the tent, but the tent was still staked to the ground. Vernon had requested a truck to move the tent, not collapsed, to a climate-controlled storage space where it could be kept intact until he decided what to do with the piece of evidence. He felt by collapsing it and rolling it up, it could in some way destroy the integrity of the evidence they may not have uncovered inside. The truck was due within the hour.

Vernon emerged from his vehicle. He viewed the camp site and attempted to see it with new eyes. He stood still and scanned the entire area. After taking in the visual information, his eyes turned toward the water. He looked for the most direct route to the water and slowly walked that way. As he walked, his eyes searched the ground for clues. He veered slightly from the path he thought the killer might have taken so as to avoid disturbing any possible evidence.

At the water’s edge, Vernon spied the first bit of visual evidence that told him his hunch was correct. A wide gash in the sand running at least four to five feet onto the beach told him a boat had landed in haste. Most boaters would have eased their vessels onto the beach. This particular boater hit the beach head on at a pretty fast clip. Scanning the ground, he did not find any signs that something had been dragged, nor did he see any footprints. The small waves from the passing boats would have erased the ones near the water.

A cloud, which had been hiding the sun, drifted east revealing the sun’s full brilliance. A reflection of light caught Vernon’s attention. He shifted his gaze in the direction of the sparkle, and it glimmered once again.

Sticking up, out of the sand, with the handle jammed into the soft earth was an artist’s paint brush.

“Yes! There it is,” Vernon said aloud. He laughed and squeezed his fists tight and shook them in victory as he smiled.

Without removing the paint brush from the ground, Vernon studied it. From what little he knew about art, he decided it was about a one inch fan brush. It had a red wooden handle with one notch carved into its surface.

Realizing the killer wanted law enforcement to find this and deciding the killer was keeping track of the deaths with the carved notch, Vernon hurried back to his car and radio.

“Get the crime scene team back over here,” Vernon said to Officer Mandelino. He tried to keep the glee out of his voice.

“You find something boss?”

“I did.”

“Great. The trucking company you called for just pulled up. Should I tell them they’re going to have to wait?”

“I don’t think so. The evidence is down near the water and they’ll be working up by the site. Send them on. It shouldn’t be a problem.”

“You got it, boss.”

Vernon heard the truck before he saw it. He knew this wasn’t in the department’s budget, but felt his decision was the right one.

Parking in front of the site, the driver hopped down out of the truck. Vernon waited for men to emerge, but the driver was alone. He was a Hispanic male with a friendly face. The driver saw Vernon and walked toward him with a skip in his step.

Vernon reached for his hand and the two men shook.

“Officer Kearns, I assume?”

“Yes.”

“Emilio.”

Vernon smiled. The other man’s smile was infectious. “If you don’t mind me asking, why so cheery?”

“I used to drive a liquid tanker for a big company, and I just started my own. You’re my first job. I’m pretty excited to be out on my own.”

“Well, that is something to smile about. Congratulations.”

“Thank you.”

“This job is a little weird,” Vernon cautioned.

“I’ve done weird. One time, my liquid tanker was filled with red water, and I released it over a waterfall at a kid’s summer camp. They thought the falls were bleeding.”

“That’s pretty weird,” Vernon said, thinking. “Wasn’t that a part of a reality show on television?”

“Yeah, it was.”

“Interesting.” Vernon described to Emilio what he wanted accomplished and exactly how he wanted it handled. The two men slipped on gloves and Vernon removed the stakes from the tent, depositing the stakes into an evidence bag. With one man on each side, they lifted the tent and carried it to the back of the truck where Emilio had already opened the sliding door.

They slid the tent into the truck. Vernon was surprised at how easily it fit. He had worried it would not. With the tent in the truck, Vernon reminded Emilio of exactly what he wanted to happen at the warehouse. Emilio repeated back to him the instructions, and Vernon was confident it would all be taken care of as he planned.

Vernon watched Emilio pull away and decided to have another look at the strange art on the concrete picnic table as he waited for the crime team. As he turned, an item on the ground underneath the tent had him frozen in place. As the two men had carried the tent to the truck, he had not looked at the ground the tent had hidden. A newspaper sat in the spot where the tent had been.