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Jacob sat on the floor with his back to the wall in the partially furnished living room. Most of their belongings had been sold over the years to help pay bills. Lighting a cigarette, he raised his eyes to the seascape, still hanging to one side. The wavering heat of the flame momentarily put the pirate ship in motion. He could see himself standing on the deck all decked out like a buccaneer. Aye, matey! Reflected on why the oil painting, that didn’t match anything, hadn’t also been sold?
When the sun disappeared behind low and dense clouds, he collected the cigarette butts from the ceramic soup bowl he’d used for an ashtray, and put them in his shirt pocket. For some odd reason he wanted to bring the bowl outside to dump the ashes. A gust of air blew them in his face. Imagining them being the cremated ashes of Kelly Murphy, his knee-jerk reaction caused him to drop the bowl, shattering it to pieces. He kicked the smallest ones under a nearby shrub.
Ran into the house and up the stairs.
There she was, exactly where he’d left her. He clutched a handful of the blanket, dragged her out of the bedroom. When he reached the stairs, he centered her on the top step. Shoved her downward. Strolling along with her as she bobbed toward the foyer, he thought about putting her in his car and driving to the pond.
Changed his mind after she landed facedown, showing him how much of her blood had seeped through the blanket. He laid her outside on the ground. Clambered up the stairs to his papa’s bedroom, and changed the location of the bed to hide the bloodstained floor.
In an instant, it felt as if the oxygen had been sucked out of the room.
Spooked, he got the hell out of there.
Tossing things around in the trunk of his car he found a rag and a spray bottle of window cleaner. He stripped naked, saturated the cloth and washed off the rest of the blood. No choice but to leave his skin feeling yucky, he quickly dressed.
Starting in the foyer, he cleaned up any blood spots he found as he climbed the stairs.
Jacob rushed to the barn to fetch a few things. Loaded them in the wheelbarrow. The tire was going flat but it was still functional. He picked her up, placed her on top of the other items. Lifted the wood handles too fast and almost pulled a muscle. He readjusted his grip. Papa’s old rusty wheelbarrow tilted sideways with so much weight. Every few steps he had to stop long enough to catch his breath before maneuvering the wobbly tire over molehills and furrows.
The sky had gotten darker and the wind had picked up speed by the time he reached the water’s edge. Lightning whitened the horizon. A deep rumble of thunder soon followed. He plunked down the wheelbarrow, dashed to his car to get the flashlight he’d forgotten. Considered hiding the largest pieces of the soup bowl in the trunk.
Bad idea. He made a list in his mind of the things that needed to disappear without a trace.
On the way back to the pond he had a feeling somebody was watching him. Jacob fooled himself into believing it was just a guilty conscience.
Keeping her body wrapped in the blanket so he didn’t have to look at her face again, he fastened a burlap sack full of rocks to her ankles with three feet of baling wire wound tight. Placed a heavy rock in another sack along with the things that needed to vanish: empty spray bottle, bloody rag, shot glass, whiskey bottle, chunks of ceramic, her clothes, shoes, and one of two red claw hair clips.
He paused for a second. Was she wearing any jewelry? His mind flashed to her standing in the kitchen near the table. “Nope. She wasn’t.” He secured the bag around her neck. “Whoa.” With such a deep neck wound he figured before long she’d be decapitated, her head floating to the surface for everybody to see it. He hastily undid the wire, even though no one but him seemed to have found the salesman’s skull and bones. Firmly fixed the sack to her legs.
He rowed his papa’s boat to the middle of the large pond where dark green scum floated on the surface and mosquitoes multiplied by the millions. Ignoring feelings of remorse, he dumped her overboard. Stared in morbid fascination while her body sank below the surface. Nickel-size raindrops pelted him, bringing him back to reality.
“Ah well, that’s the way the cookie crumbles.”
* * *
Windshield wipers thumping at their highest setting, Jacob Wentzel drove in a torrential downpour on his way to his apartment in downtown New Orleans. He only stopped once, just long enough to order fast food at a popular hamburger joint. The place wasn’t very busy for a Friday night, and that suited him just fine. Anxious to get home, he was unconcerned with the little globs of special sauce dripping on his wet shirt.
He threw the trash in the dumpster. Sprinted to the building, heavy rain plastering his hair to his forehead. He unlocked his door, leaped over the threshold. Instantly sensed the tension draining out of him. His comfortable, modern, third-floor apartment was a whole other world from the very old and dilapidated farmhouse.
Jacob paused before the coat closet in the hallway to admire his new uniform neatly arranged on a wooden hanger on a J-hook screwed into the door.
He had spent four long years in the Army. Four more years in a college mostly paid for by the government. Fresh out of the police academy, he may have graduated at the bottom of his class but at least he did graduate.
He tapped the button on the coffeemaker in the kitchen. Scooped the soggy cigarette butts out of his pocket and threw them in the trash. Undressed in the bathroom. A hot shower stopped him from shaking with chills. He pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt. Slipped his feet into a worn pair of suede sheepskin moccasins. Raked his hair with his fingers.
Carrying a cup of hot coffee, he headed to the spare bedroom he’d converted to an office. Booted up his computer. Logged on to his favorite chat room. Eagerly searched for Suite Sue.
Compared to Kelly, Sue knew how to make him feel manly.