18

Benny Fish and his wife, Marguerite, ran into the ditch after a low-flying buzzard was spooked off of its meal in the middle of the road and struck their vehicle's windshield. Benny suffered a broken nose when the air bag deployed. Marguerite, who was shaken up but not injured, said, "All I could say was, 'Benny, bird, bird, bird!' Then it hit us." Benny said it looked like "a bloody pillow fight" and added that "those airbags hurt."

—The Green News-Item

Creeeeeepy," Tammy said.

She made the word sound like a door opening into a haunted house.

Wearing a sleeveless cotton shift and clunky turquoise plastic bracelets on both of her very tanned arms, she plopped down in the chair across from my desk and opened a Hershey bar.

"That was just plain weird."

I laid down my pencil and tried not to roll my eyes, shaking my head when she offered me a bite.

"I can make more sense out of this spreadsheet than I can out of you," I said. "What in the world are you talking about?"

"Get ready for a doozy of a day. The first call was one for the books."

Tammy had a theory that we could tell how an Item day would go by our first call. If it was a complaint or a conspiracy theory from "one of our crazies," she would immediately dig a candy bar out of her tote bag and march through the building, eating it and telling anyone she ran into to "get ready."

"We got a strange message asking if we'd accept a collect call from Major Wilson in jail. The entire thing was recorded except for where he stuck his name in. That was his voice. I'd know it anywhere."

I picked up the rectangular pink eraser that I used frequently when working on our budget and fidgeted with it."What'd you say?"

"I said no, of course. Not only no, but heck no!"

"I wonder what he wanted? That's the first time we've heard from him since he went to jail after the fires."

"Maybe he heard Alex left and called to say hallelujah. He always said that snotty reporter ruined his life."

"Discriminating against African American homebuyers and covering up arson ruined his life. Like every other crooked politician, he wanted to shoot the messenger when it was his own fault."

"You don't think he's stirring up trouble again, do you?"

"Nothing that man could do would shock me. If he calls back, take the call, and let's see what he's up to. I'd rather face him than run away."

"Are you sure?" Tammy asked. "Those calls from jail are super expensive."

My eyes widened. "How in the world would you know that?"

"It's a long story." She stood and walked to the door, peeling back the foil to finish her candy.

"Don't overdo it on the tanning bed," I said. "That's not good for you."

She looked down at her arms. "I want to look good in my bikini."

"You'll look beautiful, unless you keep this up. Then you're going to look like that actor with the orange skin."

Major Wilson called from the white-collar prison in Texas the next morning, and Tammy rushed in with an unwrapped Reese's Peanut Butter Cup.

"It's him, it's him. He's on line one. Pick it up quick. That's costing us at least five bucks a minute."

She started to sit down, stopped halfway, and looked at me, eyebrows raised. I shrugged, and she sank into the chair. I figured it couldn't hurt for her to listen and wanted to keep nothing from the staff. I thought the arson charges against Mr.Sepulvado last year might have been dropped sooner if I had leaned on the staff more to solve the mystery of the fires.

"You're a mighty hard woman to do a favor for," Major Wilson's voice said. "It isn't like I can ask my secretary to pick up the phone and place a call for me anytime I want."

"I can see that prison hasn't mellowed you."

"I can tell that marriage hasn't softened you. I figured Coach Craig would have a tough time corralling you." It almost sounded like he was laughing, but the phone clicked every few seconds, so I couldn't tell.

"Sir," I said, knowing it irritated him when I called him that, "as much am I'm enjoying our chat, it's costing a small fortune. While you may have money stashed away, the Item certainly does not."

"By the time I finish paying my fines, I won't have a cent to my name, but I'm calling to offer you something I do have. My sister tells me you need a place to live."

"Your sister? I didn't realize you and Eva were in touch."

"She's more thoughtful about accepting my calls than you are, Ms. Craig. She and Dub have even made it over here to see me a time or two. They brought that Mexican fellow last time. Part of my re-hab-i-li-ta-tion." He dragged the word out, almost as if testing its sound.

"Is that what this call is about? Because I've moved on from all of that." That was a lie. I resented Major Wilson and the way he used his political power to hurt poor people, and I was not sorry at all that Chuck McCuller had died. I was trying to make up my mind about Dub, figuring if Eva liked him, he must have good traits. He had taken the produce man in.

"I have a travel trailer out at my deer lease," Major said. "You and your husband are welcome to use it till you find a place."

"I'd think you'd be happy to see me homeless," I said. "Why would you offer me a place to live?"

"I like that family you married into, and I'm trying to get my life back in order. Although you sure don't make it easy."

"And where is this camper?" I was still skeptical.

"It's in the woods, behind where Old Mr. and Mrs. Craig lived."

While I tried to process what he was saying, Tammy tapped her watch and made a dollar sign in the air with her finger. She seemed to have forgotten her candy bar.

"That's a little too far out of town for us," I said, finally."Thanks for the offer, though."

"I'm not offering it to you out there. I expect you to move it over to Aunt Helen's land."

"Oh. I'll mention it to Chris, but I think we're looking for something a little more permanent."

"If you change your mind, let Eva know. She has the key."

"While I have you on the phone," I said, "could I ask you a couple of questions for the paper?"

"I'd love to publicize what life in jail is like," he said, "but it's time for my shift in the laundry room." The sound of the receiver slamming down was none too gentle, and a recording came on to explain how the call would be billed.

"That was creepy," I said to Tammy. "He offered to let Chris and me live in his hunting camper. Can you imagine anything worse?"

Chris liked the idea.

"It's an answered prayer," he said.

My nightmare was his answered prayer?

"It'll be a mess." I swatted a mosquito as we sat in the swing at the house place. I had met Chris there after work with dinner from the Cotton Boll in a Styrofoam container. "And we'd have to get it moved."

"My dad can move it," he said, cutting a piece of meat loaf as he spoke. "His truck has a bigger engine than mine."

"If we're going to do that, we might as well stay at the Lakeside. We have someone to clean up, and it's handy."

"A kitchen!" He was more excited than I had seen him since our disastrous house-hunting expedition. "We'll have a kitchen. And a yard."

His eyes lit up.

"We can get the dogs back. Let's at least look at it."

"It's almost dark, and we don't have the key. Can't we wait till tomorrow?"

"I'm dumbfounded that we haven't thought of this before.That goes to show how overloaded our brains are."

"Maybe we haven't thought of it because it's not a very good idea," I said. "Moving into a camper right as school's about to start?"

"Lois, honey." His tone of voice signaled I had lost this argument."It's not ideal, but I can't live in that motel room through football season. It's either this or move in with my folks, now that they've got most of their repairs done." He raised his eyebrows.

"I guess a travel trailer wouldn't be too bad. Couldn't we rent one from a dealer?"

"Major's is free," he said. "Any money we save can go on our new place."

The sun was low over Chris's catfish pond across the road, a bright red cardinal sat on a branch by a small clump of Spanish moss illuminated by the evening light.

"It would be nice to be back out on Route Two," I said.

Chris took the same route to Dub's deer lease that we had taken to his grandparents' home.

"While we're out this way, let's stop and take another look at the old place," I said. "It's such a beautiful evening."

"I thought you vowed never to set foot on this property again after the redbug-and poison-ivy assault," he said, turning down the overgrown road.

"Insect repellent." I opened the glove box of his truck. "I came prepared this time."

The house looked even more striking at sunset than it had the afternoon we had been there before. "It has dignity," I said."They don't make houses like this any more."

"Not in our price range, they don't. I wish my family had taken better care of it."

"I wondered about that when we were here before. Why didn't you?"

"My parents' generation didn't like old stuff. They wanted brick and carpet and modern conveniences—which, I admit, do have their benefits. My brothers and I weren't interested in this old place once Grandma and Grandpa died, and it slowly deteriorated."

"If it weren't so far out here—"

"I didn't realize until we came out here what bad shape it's in. I suppose it's been vacant close to fifteen years."

"It's in fairly good shape to have been neglected that long."

"Daddy's a little sentimental about it," Chris said. "He comes out here and bush hogs the yard every now and then, keeps the roof patched, that sort of thing. He stores hay in the barn back there. I am pretty sure that he hoped one of us boys would live here one day."

He looked at his watch and then at the sun, now almost totally down. "We'd better get going or it'll be too dark to see Dub's place."

He took a left out of the drive onto the narrow road and then another left, winding back in dense woods.

"How in the world do you know how to find this place?" I asked. We bumped up and down, dust whirling around on the still August night.

"When I was a teenager, I explored every inch of this land.The worst trouble I ever got into with Daddy was out by Major's place. Me and my buddies decided we'd camp out and do a little partying. I should have known I couldn't buy a case of beer in Green without someone telling on me."

"A case of beer?"

"They were tall boys, too. By the time Daddy found us, we were puking our guts out. Put me off drinking altogether."

"Sounds lovely." I grew increasingly uneasy as we pulled down the dirt road. The night sounds of crickets and tree frogs and cicadas were so loud we could easily hear them with the windows up and the air conditioner blasting on high.

The sun was completely down, and the thick woods moved us from twilight to dark within minutes. Chris turned on his headlights.

"Maybe we should come back tomorrow," I said.

"We're almost there. Wonder what that light is over there?"

In the distance a weak light flickered.

"It looks like a lantern," I said. "This is creeping me out."

"Probably high school kids. A last hurrah before school starts."

We rounded a small bend, and there sat the travel trailer, the door standing open.

"So much for needing a key," Chris said. "Looks like someone beat us to it."

"Let's go back."

"You stay here," Chris said, fishing around under his seat."I know I have my Q-Beam here somewhere." He pulled out a big light and plugged it into the cigarette lighter. "You shine it, and I'll take a look."

"Be careful."

"Don't be a scaredy-cat. I'll protect you."

I practically held my breath when he stepped inside the trailer. An armadillo waddled out of the woods looking like a miniature dinosaur, and as I shone the light, three cute babies tagged behind their ugly mother. As I watched them cross the grassy patch in front of the truck, I noticed a cigarette butt, still glowing. I turned the headlights on, got out of the truck and looked closer. It was smoldering.

Nervous, I climbed back in the truck and locked my door, which was silly since my window was down. "Chris?" I yelled."Don't you think we'd better get going?"

I turned the spotlight into the woods but didn't see a trace of a human being. Chris was probably right. Silly kids, probably ran off when they heard us.

While I scanned the woods, Chris jerked the truck door open and slammed the vehicle in reverse scarcely before he was in his seat.

"Turn the light off," he said.

"The place look that bad?" I tried to cover my fear with a joke.

"It looks decent enough, considering someone's using it for a meth lab."

"So by the time the sheriff's guys arrived," Linda said the next morning, "everything was cleared out."

"You have excellent sources," I said. "How could you already know that?"

"Police chief's secretary. I take her a cup of gourmet coffee from the doughnut shop on my way to work. Gets my day off to a good start."

"So what else did she tell you?"

"She said the ne'er-do-wells, as she calls them, probably knew Major Wilson was out of commission and made themselves at home. You and Chris must have showed up right as they were getting down to their nightly business."

"The sheriff didn't find anything to indicate who it was?"

"Nothing. It was clean as a whistle, which should make you happy."

"Why would that make me happy?"

"Because they're hauling the camper over to your land this afternoon. It should be ready for you to move in by the time you get off work."

"You're joking, right?"

"You know I never joke. With you living in it, no drug dealers will be able to set up shop there." She looked at her reporter's notebook. "And a quote from Doug's secretary: 'He called that good-looking coach and got the A-OK.' "

The little travel trailer looked right at home nestled in the trees near the back of our yard.

"It's kind of cute, but why'd they put it way back there?" I asked Chris as we pulled into the driveway.

"I asked them to leave room for our building project, whatever that turns out to be. I figure we can do dirt work, trim trees, that sort of thing. We can get the electricity turned on by the end of the week and be set to move in by Saturday."

"I'm glad we don't have to stay here tonight. You've got to admit it's weird to live in a place owned by Major Wilson and previously used as a drug lab."

"After these past few months, nothing seems weird to me anymore," Chris said, pushing open the door.

"Do we need to do an exorcism?" I stepped in.

"Lois, don't be rude. It was big of Major to do this, and I promise you're going to like it once we get settled."

As usual, Chris was right.

By the end of the weekend, we had scrubbed and scoured and gotten rid of years of hunting-camp odors and any germs left by ill-intentioned drug fiends.

Wayne, the sheriff's deputy who had served papers a year ago for the McCuller lawsuit against the newspaper, stopped by with Andy, the drug dog, to reassure me that there wasn't a trace of evidence left. I assumed by the German shepherd's demeanor that Wayne was right.

As the squad car backed out of the driveway, Wayne stuck his head out and hollered, "My wife said to tell you she'd be by before dark with a dewberry cobbler."

One person after another showed up to help us settle in, from Bud and Anna Grace bringing a homemade pound cake to Iris Jo and Stan, who brought new sheets and towels, and Linda, who had a box of everyday dishes and pots and pans."Mom and dad like it at the nursing home, so they don't need these now," she said.

"Don't you need them?" I asked.

"I've got more of their things than I'll ever be able to use."

Rose came by with a green McCoy vase and a primitive painted table with a place for books underneath. "It's small enough to fit and will give the place a homey look."

Estelle and Hugh brought a home-cooked lunch, all four dogs, and materials for a fence. Molly and half of the football team showed up to help build it.

"That was Anthony's idea," she said. "He thinks a lot of Coach."

Mannix, Markey, and Kramer rolled in the grass as though long deprived of such joy, and Holly Beth, carried inside by Molly, immediately climbed up on the bed and laid down on one of the new pillows.

Pastor Jean, Maria, and the boys delivered two hanging baskets filled with impatiens. "You'll have to keep them watered good this time of year," Jean said, "but they'll add a touch of color."

Maria studied the camper closely, walking around back, getting down on her knees to see how the steps were attached and looking at the blocks that had been placed under the wheels.

"They're moving her trailer next week to that land around the corner," Jean said. "She's concerned about how that will work. I don't think she's ever seen a mobile home moved before."

"Obviously she hasn't driven up Interstate 49 very often.Every time I've been to Shreveport I've been practically run off the road by those wide loads."

"Those homes get bigger and bigger, don't they? When you have time, Maria needs you to take care of the paperwork," the pastor said. "Don and I are helping her with the note, and the owners were easy to deal with."

"What sort of paperwork?" Chris asked.

"Note?" I said at the same time.

"Since the property's yours," she said, "you'll have to sign off on the deal with the state. They were very fair with the church, and I think you'll be happy with what you're getting.The highway department pays to move the trailer, too, which helps."

"But we gave the land to Maria, along with the mobile home," I said. "That money belongs to her."

Jean clapped her hands together. "In all of the confusion at the courthouse after the storm," she said, "that must not have been properly filed. Are you sure you want to do that, given all that's happened? Don't you need the money for your new place?"

"Yes." Chris looked at me. "We could use the money for our new place. But we're sure we want Maria to have it."

"Absolutely," I said.