The Traveling Corpse (11 page)

DeeDee explained further, “Doc says tha
American Crocodiles didn't used ta come this far north, but we're
beginning ta have more of ‘em up here.”

“Your Doc knows so much about animals. He
told me once,” Verna said, “when we were playing this hole, that
raising those ostriches and emus is a school project. The Future
Farmahs of America, the FFA, I think it is, is sponsoring
them.”

“That's interesting,” Barb said. Then she
changed the subject, “Do you want to walk the course or take the
golf cart, Annie?”

“Let's walk. The exercise will do us good,
and it will warm us up, too.” She loosened the strap that held her
golf bag and its attached pull cart and lifted them down off the
rear of Barb's cart. Next, she stepped on a lever to release the
wheels of the pull cart, and they spread apart. Raising the pull
handle, she tightened a screw and was ready to go.

As Barb was taking her clubs off, she asked
DeeDee and Verna, “Are you girls going to walk or ride?”

Verna looked at DeeDee, “Are you up to
walking the front nine?”

“Actually, I don't think so. My sciatica's
startin' ta act up some. Do ya mind if we ride?”

“Fine with me.”

Barb reminded them that they hadn't signed in
yet. As she turned toward the Pro Shop, DeeDee called, “Will ya
sign me in? It'll save me from walkin' in there.”

Verna worried, “You really don't feel well,
do you, gal? Sure you want to play today?”

“Well, I don't feel tha greatest right now,
but let's try it. I never know when it's goin' get better or
worse!” DeeDee said as she unzipped her windbreaker. “It's so sunny
an' lovely out taday, even if it is on tha cool side. Can ya
believe that my sister in Tennessee is freezin'? They had a
horrible ice storm. Chattanooga can be so beautiful when every
little branch and twig is covered in ice, but law, I'd sure rather
be here in tha sunshine than lookin' at icicles!”

Her friends nodded their agreement.

Barb, the tallest of the women, was the best
golfer of the foursome. She usually hit the longest drive, although
DeeDee, who was the shortest and tiniest of them, often challenged
her. But not today. DeeDee's leg was paining her and it interfered
with her swing.

The first hole was a short one. The women's
tee was poised on a narrow neck of land that lay between two small
ponds. Barb drove first off the tee, over-shot the green and ended
in the rough. Annie hit on. Verna's landed hole-high just to the
left of the green, leaving her with an easy chip shot. DeeDee
pulled her club, and her ball lobbed up and dropped into the water
to the right. “Oh, dear, this isn't gonna be pretty taday,” she
moaned.

By the time they finished the third hole, it
was apparent that DeeDee's sciatica pain was nearly constant. Twist
and turn as she tried, she couldn't seem to get any relief; so she
decided not to drive off the fourth tee. Verna offered to take her
home, but DeeDee declined, saying, “I don't wantta spoil tha game
fer ya all. I'll jest ride along.”

“Why don't we all quit?” Annie suggested.

DeeDee protested, “Oh, no you don't! I don't
want ta be a spoil-sport.”

Annie urged, “We could go to my place and
play bridge.”

The other women agreed, but DeeDee admitted,
“Thanks, ya are all darlin's ta be so kind ta me. But I couldn't
sit still long ‘nough ta play bridge either. This sciatica's really
acting up jest now, but it is so sweet of ya all ta offer. Anyway,
ya shouldn't stop playin' now, Annie. Ya are havin' a great
round.”

Looking at her score card, Annie smiled, “Can
you believe this? I'm actually beating Barb by two strokes! That's
a switch.”

Verna decided, “I don't care what you say,
DeeDee; I'm taking you home. You need your heating pad.” To Annie
and Barb she said, “You two play out without us. Doc may not be
home yet, so I'll stay with DeeDee until he comes home.”

This time, DeeDee didn't protest.

As they said good-bye, Barb pointed out the
twosome following them, “Let's let those men play through. There's
no one coming behind them, and they hit so much farther than we do;
they'll leave us in their dust. There'll be no pressure on us
then.” She waved them through.

“Fine with me,” Annie said. “I have to go to
the potty, anyway.” She started walking, stopped, and looked
around. Puzzled, she asked, “Where is it?” Where's the
Port-A-Potty?”

Barb looked surprised too, “I see the new
building over there in the shade, but I don't see the old one. You
wouldn't think they'd take the old john away before the new
restroom was ready.” As she looked around, she saw Art coming
toward them. He was driving the park's John Deere tractor with a
front-end loader mounted on it and a big smile on his wind-burned
face.

“Look at that grin!” Annie said. “He's like a
kid with a new toy when he gets to drive that tractor.” Art slowed
down and waved to his wife and Barb. Annie yelled to him above the
noise of the motor, “Having a good time?” Art grinned wider. She
continued, “Do you know what happened to the Port-A-John?”

He couldn't hear her; so he throttled down
the engine. She repeated her question, and then he answered, “They
had it hauled away. If they kept it another day, they'd have to pay
for a whole month's rental, so the Golf Board decided to save the
money. Anyway, the new restroom is supposed to be ready in a day or
two.”

“Great,” replied Annie. “What am I supposed
to do in the meantime? Suffer?” Art pointed to a tree. “No, thanks,
Honey,” she said, straightening her sun visor. “I thought you said
you men were pouring cement this afternoon.”

“We had to put it off again. Something's
wrong with the cement mixer. I've been driving the tractor, digging
out some more of the cart path. Then I was down on my hands and
knees helping the fellows put the 4 inch by 6 foot wooden forms in
the ground ready to hold the wet cement. If the weather holds, we
can pour tomorrow.”

“See you at home,” Annie called to her
husband as he put the tractor in gear.

“Take care,” Art yelled back and drove
off.

After he left, Annie said, “Now that I've
talked about going, I really have to tinkle. I'll never make it
around the rest of the nine.” She headed toward the new restroom
building.

Barb called out in alarm, “You're not going
in there, are you? It's not finished!”

Annie ignored Barb's warning and kept walking
toward the new double restroom. She admired its construction and
mentally gave thanks to Randy, a friend of theirs in the park, who
had designed the new restrooms for the golf course.

Barb caught up to Annie, and Annie said to
her, “I know they're not ready for use yet, but they've taken the
other john away. I
have
to tinkle. For heaven's sake, I'm
not a man; I'm
not
going behind a tree!” She shoved a cement
block away from the bottom of the door on the right. The door
handle had not yet been installed, but a hole had been drilled for
it. She put her fingers in the hole and pulled. It would not budge.
She instinctively rubbed her left temple, thinking it strange that
the door wouldn't open since there was no way to lock it. In her
hurry, she turned to the stall door on the left. She pushed that
cement block aside, put her fingers in the drilled hole and opened
the door. With anticipated relief, she slipped inside and shut the
door.

Barb called to her, “The electricity hasn't
been connected yet. Isn't it dark in there? You must be going using
the Braille system!”

“Actually, it's light in here,” Annie
replied. “There's a solar panel in the ceiling; so it's nice and
light in here, thankfully. But there's a funny smell.”

Barb suggested, “Maybe somebody else peed in
there before you and that's what you smell. You can't flush it, can
you?”

“Yes, I can. You don't have to have
electricity to flush a toilet.”

“How did you know that?”

“I don't know. I must have heard it from Art;
you know he was a contractor. Built lots of houses. There's a
strange smell in here, especially for a new building.” Annie
finished and opened the stall door to exit. She said, “Smell it,
will you, Barb?”

Barb entered and sniffed. “I'm not sure I
smell anything, but then my nose isn't as sensitive as yours. I
broke it when I was a kid. Since I'm in here, I might as well go
too.” When she came out, she took time to examine the right stall
door that Annie had tried first but that wouldn't open. “Look at
this, Annie. This door is nailed shut! No wonder you couldn't open
it. Now why would someone nail just one of the doors shut?”

The two friends exchanged questioning
looks.

“I'd sure like to see in that stall,” Annie
said. “There might be a dead animal in there—a rabbit or a squirrel
or even a dead fox that I'm smelling.”

With a grim look on her face, Barb said,
“Annie, let's face it, a person is an animal. You know there could
very well be a dead body in that restroom; don't you?”

“I don't want to think so, but you could be
right. We'd better check it out before making any wild assumptions.
I can't call that sergeant and ask her to come out here because I
smell something.”

“What do you want to do?” For once, Barb
didn't take charge.

“I do have an idea,” Annie said. “You're
taller than I am. If you stand on the toilet seat, I think you
might be able to peer over the top of the cement block partition.
It doesn't go all the way to the roof. You could look down into
that other stall, and with the solar light, you'll be able to see
what's in there.”

“I'm getting a little old to be climbing,”
Barb joked.

But Annie knew her friend was game to try
when Barb asked, “Should I take off my golf shoes? The cleats will
probably dig into the brand-new toilet seat.”

“Leave them on; you'll need all the height
you can get. Wait here a second.” Annie scurried out of the
bathroom and over to her golf bag. She unclipped the Turkish towel
she had hanging on it; then she lugged the cement block into the
little room.

“Good thinking,” Barb praised her friend as
she spread the towel over the toilet seat. Then Barb lifted the
cement block and set it on top of the towel. “Now comes the tricky
part; I've got to climb up on top of all of that. You do get me
into the darnedest places, gal!”

“I'll help you,” Annie promised, and after
several tries, Barb was stretched out to her full height of 5' 10”
and peering down into the other side.

“Oh, my gosh!”

“What? What do you see, Barb?”

“No wonder you smelled something!”

“What, Barb? What is it?”

“Well, it's not a rabbit or a squirrel, and
it's too big to be a fox.”

“Barb, stop teasing me. What do you see?”

“It looks like a dead woman to me.”

Annie gasped, “And?”

“It's a dead red-headed woman with no shoes
on, and it looks like there's a tear in her light-blue denim
jeans.”

“Move Number Five,” Annie said, numb with
fear.

“We need to get out of here, Annie, and we
need to do it right now! Whoever locked her in here will surely be
back for her.”

Annie finished Barb's thought, “And we don't
want to be here when he does. Give me your hand, gal; I'll help you
down. I don't think we're going to finish this round of golf. We
need to get to a phone and call the Sheriff's office. We've finally
got the body—real evidence of a crime. They'll have to believe us
now.”

Barb hesitated, “We probably shouldn't both
leave. One of us should stay here and watch the body. They always
do on TV crime shows, and the sarge kinda scolded us already for
not staying by the drawer Tuesday night.”

“I know, but do you want to stay by
yourself?”

“Not really, I'd be scared. There aren't any
golfers on the course; it's too late in the afternoon. Looks like
we're alone out here.”

“You're right,” Annie agreed. “We'll just
have to go together and take a chance that the body doesn't
disappear again.”

The two senior women started walking at a
fast pace toward the Pro Shop pulling their clubs behind them. As
she hurried along, Annie sent up a prayer, “God, it's Annie down
here, and Barb too. We've just found a dead body, and we're scared.
Please put your arm around us and protect us. Amen.”

Barb's long legs covered more ground with
each step than Annie's shorter ones did. “Wait up!” she panted.
“I'm coming as fast as I can.”

As Barb stopped and waited for her friend,
she was aware of a pair of stately Sand Hill Cranes digging into
the sandy soil.
Glad they're not on a green right now. They can
really tear up that short grass with those long beaks,
she
thought to herself. The tall gray birds with a distinctive bright
red patch on the crown of their heads moved across the golf course
with dignity. She remembered Doc telling her that they were
probably the tallest birds native to this area, usually just a
little bigger than a Great Blue Heron. There were three pair in the
park this year. Each set usually stayed near its favorite watering
hole—kept to its own territory. When Barb first visited her parents
in BradLee in the late 1970s, she didn't remember seeing any Sand
Hill Cranes in the park back then. But they were thriving here now.
She could always recognize this particular male bird as his left
foot was missing. A turtle or alligator may very well have bitten
its foot off while it was standing in a pond. She thought how cruel
nature can be; then she thought about the cruel thing that had
happened to the dead woman sprawled on the cold cement floor of the
new restroom.