With His Dying Breath (9 page)

             
“I know a place down by the river. There’s a little café that’s still open, and there’s a deck out back if the mosquitoes aren’t too bad!” She did not know what Chip could afford and the menu had appetizers, soups and sandwiches that were very reasonable and for some reason, it was never crowded on the weekend.

             
“Mulgie’s, yeah, sounds perfect, I know the place!” Chip turned the truck around and headed down City Boulevard into the city. “How’s Mrs. Brockton? Did you talk to her today?”

             
JJ recalled a question from the test—discuss five cultural and political influences of Asia in the Western Hemisphere. ”No, I didn’t have a chance to talk to her today. I had school and that horrible test, and then I went straight to work. It’s Friday so I had to stock all the shelves. Did you see her today?” JJ made a promise to herself that she would not miss another test. At least the regular tests were multiple choice!

             
“No, she had been released on bail when I got there at eleven,” Chip said as he slowed for a car turning left into a shopping center.

             
“I just can’t believe all that’s happened, Chip,” she said as her mind returned to the present. “I’ve never known anybody who was murdered and especially anyone arrested for murder!”

             
The conversation of murder in their hometown continued as Chip turned on to College Avenue, then Mulberry, and onto MLK Boulevard. “Me neither. I see lots of people in jail but I’ve never known them personally. But now, I feel like I know her, too! I only saw Mr. Brockton a couple of times in the music store. Did you know him well?” They were on the Otis Redding Bridge, and both of them commented on how low the water was.

             
“No, not well. He got me my job, you know, well, he told me about it. I guess I got it myself. He was at the school every couple of days, it seemed. But, Chip, there was something odd or something that just wasn’t right. You know what I mean?” JJ glanced at the
Monitor’s
parking lot and saw her Dad’s white Taurus in his parking spot. Dad’s working too hard, she thought.

             
“Like what?” 

             
“Well, one day, I was waiting on a counselor, and he came storming out of her office. Didn’t even speak to me. He practically knocked me down, but it was as if he hadn’t even realized it. He didn’t say he was sorry, say hello, excuse me, or anything. And I’m sure Dr. Christian was crying when I went in.”

             
“Dr. Christian?” Chip pulled to the right for a passing ambulance en route to the trauma center.

             
“Yeah, the counselor. She isn’t the nicest counselor, but she’s okay. She only works three days a week, and I’d rather talk to Dr. Jacob anyway. She’s great!”

             
“What were they talking about to upset her?” Chip had completely stopped as two police cars and two more ambulances approached with sirens blasting.

             
“I don’t have a clue. I was thinking about all that earlier. It happened two years ago and for some reason it made a huge impression on me. Wonder what’s going on?” JJ asked as she saw more police cars and two more ambulances approaching.

             
“When we get to the café, I’ll found out.”

             
JJ continued her story of Mr. Brockton, “Anyway, he had just been so nice to tell me about the job, oh, and then he had the school bus rerouted to drop me off at the beauty shop. Chip, I just thought of something. Dr. Christian is over the busses or has something to do with them. The bus drivers are always in and out of her office. And she’s out there checking them all the time.”

             
“Why would the bus drivers be coming and going in her office? What kind of counselor is she?”

             
“I thought she was supposed to help the students, you know, with emotional problems and school problems, career goals, you know, stuff like that!” Chip turned into the parking lot of Mulgie’s, parked the truck, and rolled down his window.

             
“Here we are. Listen! Hear the bull frogs?”

             
JJ lowered her voice, “Ribbit, ribbit,” Laughing, they headed toward the entrance.

             
“Oh, hold on, let me call the station. Hey, he said into the cell phone, what’s happening with all the ambulances? Really….when….how many….wow….no….. Mulgie’s….okay, thanks!” Chip repeated the conversation to JJ. “Let’s go in, I’m hungry!”

             
“Just no frog legs for me, ribbit, ribbit!”

             
“You are so funny, JJ. You are beautiful, and you are so funny.” JJ thanked him with a kiss on the cheek. She looked forward to a long relationship with this good-looking deputy sheriff.

A
rm in arm under a covering of pink cherry blossoms, her heart filled with joy. She glanced at an old photo of a riverboat above the register as Chip requested a table outside on the riverbank.

             
JJ liked what she learned about Chip. He graduated with honors from high school two years ago. His four-year football scholarship to Georgia Southern University ended when he broke an ankle in the third game and decided to leave school.

             
He returned home to study criminal justice at Macon State. He loved police work and hoped to be a detective with the Georgia Bureau of Investigation. Until he could get on with the State, he took a job with the Sheriff’s department. The Sheriff was his cousin’s stepfather but had not met until he interviewed for the job and made an instant connection.

             
JJ was amazed that Chip had never had a steady girlfriend. He said he just had never connected with someone other than as friends. He retracted that statement by saying, “I lied, JJ. I have been in love before, but it was a long, long time ago. It was not reciprocated and she really broke my heart,” he said wiping away alligator tears.

             
“Oh, Chip,” JJ said, “I’m so sorry. Do you ever see her?” JJ certainly hoped he didn’t that she had moved far, far away.

             
“Yes, I do almost every night. And I can’t help it, but my heart flutters every time.”

             
“Oh,” JJ was very disappointed. “Does she date anyone you know?”

             
“No, I think she’s married now with kids.”

             
“Married? Kids?”

             
“Yes, and I’m not sure I’ll ever get over it!”

             
Chip started laughing not being able to hold it any longer. He confessed that his heartthrob was Vanna White. JJ almost choked on a hot wing, she laughed so hard.  

* * *

             
Skinmore, Gum Drop, turtle, cat, mystery woman, wig, tattoo, missing messages, missing folder, strange calls, an untrained dog, murder— the clues list went on and on.

             
Cain sat at his desk, running his hands through his thick hair. I’m a reporter not a detective, he said to himself. “What is the story and where is my folder?” he said to anyone listening.

             
“Mr. Matthews, line three, Mr. Matthews, call on line three.” Cain punched ‘pick-up’ and 7133.

             
“Hello, Cain Matthews,” he said into the receiver.

             
“Working late tonight, I see.” Cain quickly pushed the record button. “Got it figured out?”

             
“Got what figured out?” Cain tried to identify the voice. Is it who I talked to yesterday?

             
“How many more clues do you need?” Cain looked at his list.             

             
“Can we meet? I’m not a detective! What am I looking for?”

             
“Look at the clues — closely!” Click.

             
Cain sat staring at the phone. He had never had such a puzzling story. Am I working two stories or is this tied to Blake Brockton’s murder?               Loud sirens interrupted Cain’s thoughts. It was a common sound since the Monitor was halfway between two major hospitals. Still the sirens had been steady for at least thirty minutes. He picked up his cell phone and hit nine. His friend’s voice said,               “Dispatch”

             
“Hey buddy, what’s going on?”

             
“Cain, hey, why aren’t you down here, man?”

             
“Didn’t get anything!” Cain turned around to check the police scanner turned to the off position. “Somebody turned the scanner off, what is it?” Cain grabbed his keys and headed out to the parking lot.

             
“Don’t know yet, a bomb, or explosion of some kind caused a huge fire. Might want to get to one of the hospitals. Every ambulance and hook and ladder in town has been dispatched!”

             
“Explosion? Where?”

             
“That new plant, BelRon.”

             
“Thanks, man, I’ll see you later.” Cain pushed the send button to pick up another call. It was the City Editor.

             
“Cain, you on the fire? That new plant out seventy-four.”

             
“Chief, yes sir, just talked to dispatch, and I’m on my way to the hospital. But maybe I better get out to the scene and check it out.”

             
“Get Briggs out there, too. Get lots of photos. Don’t care how we do it but I want the story in the morning paper. I’m holding press. Get it Cain. I’ll get to the hospital.”

             
“Yes sir.” Cain punched his favorite photojournalist’s speed dial number and asked him to meet him out front. “Hey, got a hot one, meet me under the awning Hurry, ok.” Cain was almost out of breath. “Make sure your camera’s charged or you’ve got extra batteries!” He whipped the car around, picked up the award-winning photographer and headed out MLK Boulevard, and pushed send again for another call.

             
“That’s your next clue!”

Cain drove like a teenage
maniac and his thoughts were just as crazy.               “My next clue! Clue to what?”

             
“Clue? What you playing?” Briggs asked.

* * *

              The man sat at home in a comfortable recliner enjoying a perfect martini. His wife retired early, but he stayed up to watch the evening news. It was sensational. The blaze of the burning building filled the screen. The plasma television with the high definition cable brought the flame so close, he could fill the heat from the flaming cinders.

A
mbulances pulled in and out carrying burn victims to their deaths and speeding back to the scene for more victims. Total chaos. No one was supposed to get hurt. He called in a bomb threat, but nobody listens anymore, so many false alarms. “Oh well, I tried,” he said as he climbed the stairs to bed.

             
“Tried what, darling?” His wife had started downstairs. “Who are you talking to?”

             
“Sweetheart, what are you doing up? You were so tired after your long day and hectic schedule. I was coming to curl up beside you.” In a seemingly loving way, he took his wife’s shoulders, turning her around to go back up stairs.

             
“I am tired, groggy, like I’ve been drugged. These long hours are getting the best of me.” She nuzzled up to him as they walked to the bedroom.

             
“Let me escort you back to bed. What were you coming downstairs for, love, and I’ll get it.” He placed her on the left side of the king size bed, propped the pillow behind her back, slipped another pill into her glass.

             
“Here, darling, drink some more milk.” He massaged her temples until she was fast asleep which only took fifteen seconds.

             
The man went into the bathroom, completed the normal bedtime duties and flashed a big self-absorbing smile at himself. He climbed in bed beside his lovely wife, content that he had accomplished the third item on his list. Only two to go.

Saturday,
March , 3 a.m.

             
Cain eased into the house careful not to wake up his daughter on the sofa half-asleep. She stirred. He stopped. Too late as she popped up to greet her dad. He noticed how nice the house looked. It was dusted, vacuumed, and smelled like a fresh spring day.

             
“Hi Daddy!” He walked over to kiss her on the forehead.

             
“Hi baby, what are you still doing up? How was your date with your new fellow?”

             
“Daddy, I had such fun. We just went down to Mulgie’s and sat out on the deck eating hot wings listening to the bullfrogs. I can’t wait for you to meet Chip. Did you hear about the fire?”

             
Cain picked up a stack of mail on the computer desk sorting through. Junk mail, junk mail, bill. “Yes, that’s why I’m so late.” Junk mail, bill, ad, and on it went. “I’ve got the story.” Cain sat down in his lounge chair pushing the mail aside to sort through later.               “JJ, there’s some strange things going on around town. Let’s talk in the morning, I need some sleep. You be very careful, ok, hon?” he said in a big yawn. “I’m going to be very busy over the next few days until something breaks. You get some sleep and let’s talk about all of this in the morning.”

             
“Of course, Daddy. Night! Chip’s coming over in the morning for breakfast. Okay?” She gives her dad a big hug. “Don’t stay up too late. Breakfast at nine!”

             
“Good night, honey! I’d love to meet him!” He looked at the stack of mail and poured a glass of sweetened iced tea. About to fall asleep, he flipped on the local stations, just infomercials, switched to Fox News, some talk show. CNN world news. He took a wild stab at MSNBC, nothing. Infomercials on everything else. “Commercials are taking over the world,” he said and switched back to Fox to watch something called ‘Red Eye.’ Within five minutes, Cain was sound asleep on the sofa where JJ found him when she took the eggs out of the refrigerator at eight o’clock.

             
“What about the clues, Mr. Matthews?” JJ cleared the table to give her dad a chance to talk to Chip.

             
“I made a list, Chip. Got this comic strip named Skinmore, runs in the
Monitor
twice a week. It’s about a dog Gum Drop who can’t or won’t do what it’s told to do. Let’s see, the other night a woman who JJ seems to think was wearing a wig and has a rose tattoo on her thumb, came up to the Monitor office and tricked Patsy, our night clerk. This woman tricked her into leaving her desk, and, apparently, while Patsy was away, the woman went straight to my desk took some messages I’d left, and, I think, a file. Anyway, my file on the Crawford by-pass is missing. But the most disturbing clue is the voice. I’ve been getting calls by a man or woman, maybe a computer, giving me clues. Actually, the day of Blake Brockton’s murder, I had several calls from a Penny Reid Skinmore on voice mail. But I still don’t know who or what is calling me. Even last night I heard the sirens and called dispatch. That’s another thing. My police scanner was turned off, and I never turn it off. No one in the office would ever turn it off. That’s how we get heads up to what’s happening. Anyway, my buddy down there said I needed to get over to the hospital. I was out the door when the boss called and asked if I was on the fire story. Another call came in, and it was him or her, or heck, it, telling me that was my next clue.”

             
“Clue to what?”

             
“That just it. I don’t know. I don’t know what the story is. Just the clues to the story. And that’s what the voice said ‘look at the clues, closely.” JJ did not tell her dad about her strange call warning her to be careful.

             
“Mr. Matthews, maybe that is the story, the clues. Put the clues out there and see what comes in.”

             
“Write a story out of clues?”

             
“It won’t hurt Sammi, will it Dad? The clues, I mean. They don’t point to her, do they?”

             
“I don’t see how they could honey, the recording of that first phone call, said he, well, if it is a he, was going to give me the story of the year about bigamy, greed, extortion, and fraud. She was in jail at the time!”

             
“Good, I think Chip is right, put the clues out there!”

“Mr. Matthews, could your caller be using one of those voice distorters?”

              “Chip, a voice distorter? Where can you get those?”

             
“I believe just about anywhere now. I’ll do some research for you.”

             
“Great, I’d appreciate it. Let me talk to the boss about the clues story. I’m going on down to the office. Great breakfast, babe! Chip, great pleasure to meet you. Take care of my girl, here!” He gave JJ a big hug.

             
“Yes sir, Mr. Matthews, thank you!”

             
“Well, Miss Matthews, what are your plans today?”

             
“Well, Deputy James, I was hoping you would tell me! First, will you drive me to the shop to get my car?”