How many times can you die?

SMALL TOWN SECRETS

Pam Skochinski

I almost died last night. I snuck out of the house for an evening of drag racing and nearly ended up dead. Wow, what a rush! I had only slipped back into bed an hour ago and was listening to the birds sing; floating in the euphoria of having done something bad and gotten away with it, this time anyway.

Then, with a feeling of déjà vu, I heard the phone ring downstairs and groaned. It couldn't be happening again!

Only last week, I'd snuck out of the house to go to a party at the old abandoned barn on the Crook's farm. What with one thing and another, the barn burned down. At 6 am , the following morning, the phone rang. My obituary was in our local paper, The Messenger. My dad flipped out. He'd come tearing up the stairs, stumbling a bit in his hurry to check on me. Then, when he found me alive and well, he grounded me for a week.

I looked at the clock. It was exactly 6 am , again. I stiffened as I heard his footsteps on the stairs. There was no panic in his steps today, just slow even treads; one step after the other. My bedroom door creaked a little, so I closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep. I lay, barely breathing, until I heard him make his way back down the stairs.

When I went downstairs for breakfast, the newspaper was open to the obituary page and flung over my cereal bowl. My picture smiled up at me. The article was almost word for word the same as last week.

“Oh, this is very funny.” Cold shivers danced up and down my spine.

“No, not funny.” My dad didn't even look up at me. “Last week, you supposedly died in a barn explosion at a party; a party you were specifically told not to attend. You kids were lucky you weren't all killed when that barn blew.”

“We didn't know he was--” Dad silenced me with a look. “Cooking meth,” I finished under my breath.

“I grounded you for a week, young lady. So, I know what that obit means. It means you snuck out of the house again.”

I hung my head. I could lie, but what was the use.

“And you know I don't approve of you going around with Buddy Giles. Here in the paper it says you were out with him, being stupid and drag racing with no lights on. You could have been killed!”

“But I wasn't” I argued. “No one was hurt.”

“No, just four totaled cars and you probably hitchhiked home. How safe was that?”

“Engine blocks usually don't wander out in the middle of a country road, Dad.” I rolled my eyes.

“No, but cows do. Don't argue with me. What you did was wrong and--”

“You're grounded.” I finished for him. “I know, I know. It's the story of my life.”

“Just be grateful you're alive.” He growled back and then shot me a strange look. “I've got to get to work. You'd better be here when I get back.”

“Yes sir.” I gave him a mock salute as he walked out the door.

God, I can't wait to get out of this one horse town. There's nothing to do except go to school, church, or hang out at the drug store. But I wanted to hang out somewhere not under the eagle eyes of my dad working at the auto shop next door. It gave me the creeps knowing he was watching and listening to everything. Lately, I spend my time at the grain elevator at the other end of town. That's where I met Buddy Giles. He's older than me, already in college, and working at the elevator over the summer. And he has a car. I have my license, but dad gives me the third degree every time I want the car. Too bad Buddy and I broke up right before the party last week. We snuck off last night by ourselves for a few minutes and I thought everything was back to normal until I went to kiss him goodnight. He just kissed me on the cheek. I know he thinks I'm just a tease, but if he knew, if anyone in the town knew my secret, I'd just die. No, it's much better to just let things cool down.

I moped around the house most of the morning. It got hot so I changed into my swimsuit, with the intention of lounging around in the back yard and reading a book. I dug my notebook out from under my mattress and wrote down some of the thoughts spinning around in my head. I was angry about my obituaries being printed in the paper, which then made me angry and sad about my mother dying all those years ago. It just wasn't fair. I brushed away angry tears and then put the book back under the mattress.

I heard the crunch of gravel under tires in the driveway, and went outside to see who was here. It was him, smiling. God, I hate all this hot and cold stuff. People are so hard to understand.

He waved from the car. “Wanna go for some ice cream?”

I shrugged and slouched over to the car. “You do know I'm grounded?”

“Yeah, but one short trip into town for ice cream doesn't count.” He laughed.

I got in, and we drove off.

We didn't say much to each other. I stared out the window and groused to myself that things would have been so different if Mom were alive. I went through a lot of ‘if onlys' in my head. That's when I noticed that we had ended up at the lake, not the ice cream shop.

“Hey, what are we doing here?” I asked.

“You were in your swim suit. I thought we'd go for a swim.”

“There's no swimming at this part of the lake, the beach is further up.” I was confused. Then, I looked at him. There was a look on his face; a madness in his eyes I had never seen before. I was scared, but before I could react, he grabbed me by the hair and pulled it until tears came to my eyes. He dragged me out of the car and toward the water. I don't know why I didn't scream or fight harder. I was in shock and just kept thinking this couldn't be happening to me. He pushed my head under the water, hitting it again and again on the rocks on the bottom. Then I couldn't scream. I couldn't breathe. As the world faded away, I heard his voice, distorted through the water and my struggles.

“This time,” he growled, “I'm not leaving your death to chance.”

Minnie Mood awoke, heart pounding, gasping for breath. She had been dozing in her armchair and her first thought was to get out to the lake as fast as she could and save that girl. But, she'd been having these dreams all of her adult life. No, the girl was dead and no amount of hurrying would change that fact.

She glanced over at the clock. It was almost time for dinner. She'd eat and then take her little dog, Herman, out to the lake for his walk. Then she'd see what she would see.

Coles County Sheriff's Deputy Andy Jenkins, assigned to the Oakland substation, was just settling in for a long night of nothing, or so he hoped. Thursday nights were usually pretty slow out here in the land of corn and soybeans. Friday night would be a different story. Even out here in the boonies, weekend wildness reigned. He'd be hauling in drunks and joy-riding kids all night long.

To pass the time, Andy paged through the most recent issue of The Messenger , published twice a week and more full of gossip than news. He stared down at the obituary page. There was Jennifer Johnson's obituary in the paper again this week. It had appeared in last Thursday's edition with the retraction published in Saturday's paper. It was rather a sick joke and he was surprised Stella, the newspaper's general manager, was allowing it to run.

The radio crackled and Andy picked it up off the desk. “ Oakland sub, Jenkins here.”

The voice on the other end was excited and breathless. “It's Jennifer Johnson, sir. She's dead.”

“No, no, it's just a misprint.” Andy shook his head, looking down at the paper. For a moment, he wondered how the dispatcher had known he was reading the paper.

“What? Come again? Jennifer Johnson's body was just found in the lake at Walnut Point. She's dead.”

“Get the medical examiner out there to meet me. I'm on my way.”

The scene at the lake was surreal. There was a beautiful sunset and the buzzing of the cicadas was intermittent, as they warmed up for their nightly concert. In the distance, there were sounds of children playing, enjoying a few last moments in the water before their parents called them in. The only thing spoiling it was the body of a young woman floating face down in the lake. Andy stood staring at her for several long moments before turnint to the state park ranger who had been guarding the body.

“Did you find her?”

“No, old Minnie Mood did. She's almost 80 but she brings her dog down here for a walk every evening.”

“Is she still here?”

“No, I sent her home. She's old and upset. I told her you could take her statement at home just as well as out here at the lake.”

“Well, let's get busy then. Could you help me tape off this area?”

“Why?”

“Why, what?” Andy replied absently.

“Why? She probably dove in and hit her head on a rock and drowned. It's not safe to swim here.”

“Doubtful.” Andy shook his head. “Girls come to the lake to be seen by the boys. And the boys are at the beach area, not here. I suspect she either came here by herself to meet someone, or someone brought her here. Either way, she probably wasn't alone when she died.”

“Murder, then?”

Andy nodded.

A few hours later, Andy pulled up in front of the Johnson's house and turned off the engine. With it died the cool comfort of the car, for the heat had not gone down with the sun, nor had the humidity. He sat for a second, dreading this part of his job. The night air was filled with the sound of the cicadas and fireflies danced in the dark. God, he hated his job right now.

It was a short walk up to the front door. Despite the heat, Andy felt cold by the time he reached it. He rang the doorbell, his hat in hand.

Mr. Roy Johnson answered the door, looking both mad and upset.

“Is she in jail this time?” He snarled.

“Excuse me?” Andy was caught off guard.

“Jenny, is she in trouble again? I grounded her this morning and when I get home from work, she's gone again. No note or anything. Is she in jail?”

Andy cleared his throat nervously. “No, Mr. Johnson. I'm sorry to have to tell you but we found Jennifer at Walnut Point. It appears she drowned.”

“Oh, no.” Roy staggered back, clasping his hand to his heart. “Was it an accident?” He finally asked. “Oh, why am I asking? Of course it wasn't an accident.”

“Mr. Johnson, what are you saying? Do you have some information about this?” Andy was puzzled.

“Kind of.” Roy stomped down the hallway toward the bedroom, with Andy following. Once in Jennifer's bedroom, Roy went over to the bed and pulled a notebook out from under the mattress. He shot an apologetic look at Andy. “Okay, so I snoop. I'm a concerned father.” He opened the notebook and handed it to Andy.

“She's not ever been a happy child but in the last couple of years it's gotten worse. For weeks she'd been obsessed with death. I think, I think she may have committed suicide.” He broke down and sobbed into his hands.

“Can I take this? It might give us some insight as to her state of mind.”

“Sure.” Roy agreed quickly.

“Could I ask you a few questions?”

Roy sobbed louder. Andy squirmed, uncomfortable with the man's overt show of grief. “Or would you like to wait until tomorrow?”

“Could it wait, please?”

“I'll be back first thing in the morning.” Andy left the house with the distinct feeling something just wasn't right. Questioning Roy in the morning would give him more time to figure out just what.

His next stop was Mrs. Minnie Mood's house, right next door. It was getting late, but he knew she would be sitting up, waiting for him.

And there she was sitting in a rocker, watching television while her short but very fat dachshund snored peacefully on the rug beside her.

“Hello Andy.” Although they'd only met a couple of times, she greeted him by his first name as if she'd known him for years.

“Mrs. Mood. Could I ask you some questions?”

“Of course. Please sit down. Would you like a drink?”

“Yes, some water, please.”

Minnie slowly made her way to the kitchen and Andy heard her getting cold water out of the fridge. It took her several minutes, but Andy knew if he had refused a drink, it would have hurt her feelings.

When Minnie finally settled back in her chair, Andy leaned forward. “So, tell me about this evening?”

“I take Hermann for a walk by the lake every day,” She began, her voice matching the cadence of her creaking rocker. “Doctor's orders. I usually go right before dinner, but it's been so hot that we've been going in the evenings. I drove out to the lake, parked, and started walking. Hermann barked at something. Sometimes he barks at the ducks, but I couldn't see any ducks. I couldn't get him to stop barking or to come to me. So, I went to him. That's when I saw that poor girl's body in the water.” Mrs. Mood's eyes filled with tears. “Such a tragic life she had, and now this.”

Andy searched his memory for anything tragic associated with the Johnsons. He knew Roy worked at the auto body shop and that his wife had died when Jennifer was young. Whatever Minnie Mood was referring to, she obviously thought it was common knowledge. But since Andy was the police, he missed out on all the gossip.

“What do you mean, ‘a tragic life'?” He sipped his water while she told him what she knew of the Johnson's past. Roy was actually Jennifer's stepfather. When Jennifer was five or six, Jennifer's mother, Myrna, found out he had been diddling with Jennifer. Andy suppressed a smile at her nice, old lady way of saying Roy had been molesting that little girl. Myrna caught him and told him to get help or she would leave. Roy wasn't caught again for quite some time, but the day after it happened, Myrna dropped Jennifer off at school and drove in to Charleston to see a lawyer and file for divorce. Along the road, something went terribly wrong with the car and Myrna was killed. Life went on for little Jennifer, with Mr. Roy Johnson; her natural father was never found or perhaps never looked for.

“If everyone knew what was going on, why didn't someone investigate?”

“Oh, not everyone knew what was going on, but, living next door, I saw things and heard the arguments. I called social services. They came out and questioned Roy and even Jennifer. Poor Jennifer wouldn't say anything. A social worker stopped by a few times after that, but. . .” Minnie's voice trailed off. “I didn't want to get labeled as an unmitigated busybody.” Minnie shook her head and then shot a look at me, as though to make sure I didn't think she was one. “Lord only knows what that poor girl has put up with all these years.”

“Enough to make her want to kill herself?”

“Hogwash.” Minnie snorted.

“He gave me this notebook.” Andy handed it over to Minnie. It wasn't police procedure, but since the cause of death hadn't been determined, Andy figured it wasn't evidence, yet.

Minnie paged through the notebook and chuckled. “I taught high school English for more years than you've been alive.” Minnie began. “So, I can tell you, these poems are very typical for a high school girl.”

“Even those last few entries, the ones about death? And what about the will tucked in the front?”

“Even those. Of course she was obsessed with death. Her obituary had run in the paper for two weeks in a row. I'd be obsessing if that happened to me. And one of the classes taught at the high school covers legal documents. The students write out business documents, sample contracts, business agreements, and wills. It was probably a school project.” Minnie chuckled. “No, I don't think it was suicide. I don't want to tell you your job, but I'd be looking for whoever it was that took that poor girl out to the lake. It's almost 5 miles away. She wouldn't have walked in this heat.”

The next morning, Andy was at the newspaper office right as they opened.

“Hello Sheriff, how can we help you?” Stella greeted him. Stella was the general manager as well as the editor, copywriter, and reporter. She ran the local paper with the help of the senior high school class. Andy figured one of them had put the obituaries in as a joke. But, he'd cover all the bases, just in case.

“I wanted to talk about obituaries.” Andy started.

“Poor thing.” Stella shook her head. “No one knows what drives these young people to take their own lives. Her poor, poor father.” Andy didn't correct Stella, but let her ramble on. “He was so surprised when he called the paper this morning and found out the obituary had already been called in. He sounded just awful on the phone.”

“It had already been called in? Can you tell me when?”

“Sure.” Stella pulled out a log book. “It was called in on Thursday, right when the paper closed. See?” She turned the log book around and Andy scanned down the column till he saw it: 5 pm , Obituary, Jennifer Johnson, suicide.

“Who took the call? And how did they know what to write?” Andy asked.

“I've been out for the last few weeks so my nephew, Roger, has been filling in. He's home from college for the summer. He's been single-handedly running the office and he's done the best he could in the circumstances.”

“Could I talk to Roger?”

“Sure. Roger?” Stella called.

A rather scruffy young man, with shorts slung low on his hips, stepped out of the back. “Yes?”

“The sheriff would like to ask you some questions about the obituary for Jennifer Johnson.” Stella began.

“Which one?” Roger asked.

“What do you mean, which one?” Stella asked.

“Well, we've run three of them.”

“How did that happen?” Stella went rather red in the face. “This is a newspaper. We report the news, not pranks!”

“I didn't know, honest. The first time the guy called, I took the information and ran the obit. Then, when we had to print the retraction, I was mad. The same guy called in on Wednesday night, the next week. Believe me, I asked a lot of questions, but he was absolutely positive this time the information was accurate. I know kids drag race out on the Old Grace Road , so I figured she really had been killed. It was right at 5, so I just pulled the last obit, changed the date and cause of death, and put it in the layout. Then, the guy called on Thursday night, right at 5 pm again, ranting and raving. He told me I'd gotten all the details wrong. He really chewed me out, and then told me I'd better get the details right and rerun the obit on Saturday.”

“Did the man say who he was?”

“No, I assumed it was the guy from the funeral home, that's who usually calls.”

“Thanks.” Andy turned to go. “Oh, I almost forgot. How do you know what details to write in the obituary?”

“The journalism class writes them out for me. I have one for everyone in town, 483 of them. All I have to do is update them with the current information.” Stella patted the filing cabinet next to her desk. Andy shivered. Somewhere in there was a file with his name on it.

“Thanks again.” Andy chewed on his bottom lip. He'd have to get the phone records for the newspaper office for the last three weeks. He just wished the coroner would call and let him know the findings so he could open an investigation.

At that moment, his cell phone rang. It was the call he'd been waiting for. There were bruises on Jennifer's body not consistent with an accident or suicide. Andy smiled wryly. He'd build his case and then go see Mr. Roy Johnson, again.

Andy called in quite a few favors to get the information he needed. He tracked down a social worker who remembered the Johnsons. She hadn't been able to find any substantiation for the allegation of abuse, but she hadn't gotten a warm fuzzy feeling from the situation either. She had followed up with some surprise visits, but in the end, she couldn't justify spending any more time on it. He had pored over The Messenger's phone records for the past three weeks. Just as he suspected, there were calls from the auto body shop to the newspaper right at 5 p.m. on the days the paper had been notified of Jennifer's deaths. Three men worked at the auto body shop, one was Stella's husband who had been on vacation with his wife and family. Another was the boss, who only worked from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. on the days when he actually made it off the golf course and in to work. The third man was Roy .

What concerned Andy was Roy 's motive to kill Jennifer. If he'd been molesting her, it had been going on for years. She wasn't likely to report it now.

No, something else had changed, and recently. But what?

Andy went back to the beginning and pulled out Jennifer's obituary. Roy Johnson was her stepfather, what had happened to her real father? He figured the best source for information was Minnie Mood, she could tell him not only the facts but perhaps the speculation. And, while he was thinking about Minnie Mood, he wondered why she hadn't told the social worker what she had told him, about the arguments she'd overheard, etc. Did she have something she was hiding? On a whim, he typed Minerva Mood into the internet search engine.

Time ticked by as he read article after article about the woman Minerva, aka Minnie, Mood. Most were excerpts from newspaper and magazine articles and were titled, Psychic Finds Body or Psychic Leads Police to Killer . Then, 20 years ago, Minerva Mood had dropped out of the news and reappeared as a little old widow woman in this tiny Illinois town.

Yep, he definitely needed to pay another visit to Minnie Mood.

He drove out to Mrs. Mood's house and parked in front. Roy was tinkering under the hood of a car in his driveway and looked up with interest. “Do you have any news for me?”

Andy hadn't planned on talking to Roy yet, but he sauntered up the driveway.

“I got a call from the coroner. There were some marks on Jennifer's body inconsistent with suicide or accident. I'm afraid there's going to be an inquest. I'm sorry.”

“You need to look at that no-good boyfriend of hers.”

“Oh, we will. You know, while I'm here, I'll just get a few details of your day. You were at the shop all day?”

“Yeah, pretty much all day. I ran into town to pick up some parts about 3 or so. Since I was the only one in, I closed up shop a bit early.” Roy shifted uneasily from one foot to the next.

“So, did you stop back at the shop to drop off the parts when you got back?” If Roy hadn't been at the shop, then he hadn't made the call to the newspaper, and Andy was back at square one. But to his relief, Roy was the epitome of a responsible employee.

“Of course I did. I didn't want to leave anything valuable sitting in the back of my truck all night.”

“Great.” Andy finished writing and snapped his notebook shut. “I'm just going to check with your next door neighbor and see if she saw Jennifer.”

Roy 's eyes shot over to the house next door with a sudden calculating look that chilled Andy. “That old biddy is always gandering out the window. But she's not home right now. She left about an hour ago. You know old ladies don't miss their hair appointments.” Roy 's chuckle sounded forced.

“Yep, if they did, they'd miss out on all the gossip.” Andy smiled. “I'll just give her a call later. Thanks.”

“Well, I gotta get back to the car, I dropped in a new engine last week and it's still not running quite right. Let me know about the inquest, I'll have to get the day off.”

“I sure will.” Andy walked back to his car. As he did, he caught a flicker of movement at Minnie Mood's front window as a curtain fell back into place. So, Roy had lied and Mrs. Mood was at home.

Andy's stomach clenched at his sudden suspicion. He waved at Roy and slowly drove up the block, his mind working furiously. He picked up his cell phone and dialed.

Minnie Mood's voice wavered slightly as she assured him she would lock all her doors and windows and sit tight until he got there. But, before she could hang up, Andy heard the doorbell ring.

He drove around the block and parked out of sight of the houses. He sprinted through a few backyards and then crept up to the back door of Minnie's house. Roy was no longer working on the car in his driveway and Andy had a sneaking suspicion he was in Minnie's front room instead. Andy tried the doorknob and it turned. Thank goodness people still didn't lock their doors during the day in a small town. He slipped quietly into Minnie's spotless kitchen and tried to catch his breath.

He couldn't hear anything except the pounding of his own heart and he had a momentary thought that he was too late.

Then, Roy 's voice carried clearly into the kitchen. “What did you see that day, old lady?”

Minnie's voice was louder than her normal speaking voice and Andy suspected she knew he was listening. “I saw you.”

“Nonsense. You couldn't have. It's your hair day. You weren't even home.”

“I saw you.” Minnie insisted. “And I know what you did to Jennifer.”

“Be quiet.” Roy 's voice was tense and angry. There were sounds of struggle. “You...didn't...see...anything.”

Andy burst through the kitchen door and trained his gun on Roy . “Let her go or I'll shoot.”

Roy gasped and stumbled backwards, holding his hands out.

Minnie was struggling to catch her breath and when Andy's eyes flickered to her, Roy made a sudden grab for the gun.

Andy had been expecting that and shot him, point-blank.

The key to the entire case was exactly that, a key. Andy searched the Johnson's house after Roy had been taken to the hospital, writhing and crying in pain. Hidden under his mattress was a key to a safety deposit box. Jennifer's real father had been killed in a military training exercise. In the safety deposit box, Andy found a deposit slip for the military life insurance money. Myrna had put the money into a trust for Jennifer's college education. In a few short months, Jennifer would have been a quarter of a million dollars richer and out of Roy 's life and beyond his reach forever.

When Andy confronted Minnie Mood with what she'd said to Roy , she shrugged and vehemently denied having seen anything the day Jennifer died. “I was at the shop, getting my hair done.” She insisted. “Thursday is my hair day, ask anyone in town.”

“Then why did you tell Roy you saw him?” Andy toyed with telling Minnie what he had found out about her, but held back.

“I knew you were in the kitchen, listening, I had to get a reaction out of Roy somehow, didn't I?” Her faded blue eyes gazed innocently at him.

“I guess so.” Andy reluctantly agreed. “I've got to go get this all written up so we can get Roy Johnson put behind bars where he belongs. Thanks for your help.” Andy put his hat on, tipped it slightly to her, and closed the door softly behind him.

Minnie watched him get into his car and drive away. She had hoped to keep her psychic dreams a secret. Maybe, just maybe he hadn't made the connection. . . But, on second thought, she'd seen the shrewd, knowing look in his eyes. No, he knew, all right. She hadn't seen the last of Deputy Andy Jenkins, not by a long shot.