NaNoWriMo: Murder in Wilson Park, Chapter 28

“A treasure or a body. Right. Why do I feel like I’m a character in a Nancy Drew mystery?” Joe turned to go back up the trail. He had the slightest bit of a limp which Amanda thought he might be exaggerating for sympathy points.

Amanda shouted after him. “I’m not saying for sure. I’m just saying we should keep our minds open. Something’s going on back here – or went on, I’m not sure which. Maybe both.” Her voice returned to normal when she caught up with him which wasn’t hard with his faux limp.

“Nobody seems to be connecting the dots, Joe, or even know that there are dots,” Amanda said.

“Now, I’ll agree with you on that score, kiddo,” said Joe. “There doesn’t seem to be much high-level reasoning going on here with our law enforcement friends. Just a lot of standing around talking with the old folks. Lazy police work if you ask me.”

Amanda was glad that Joe agreed with her but felt stung by the comments about law enforcement. After all, Matt was law enforcement and she considered him to be a terrific cop. But, maybe Joe was right, maybe Matt and Jovan and Deputy John had all been coasting on this. Then again, it had only been a couple of days since Jacob’s murder. Perhaps there was more going on behind the scenes than she or Joe knew. She decided to think that way. It felt a lot better.

“Listen,” said Joe, “I know I give you a hard time but you’re a good reporter. That was smart to go in the archives, maybe there is a connection there. Keep at it, girl, you’re on to something.”

They were back at their cars now. Joe pulled off his blazer and threw it in the backseat. Clearly, he never wore his blazer while driving. Amanda wondered why for a second and then wondered why she cared. She guessed it would be just one of the things she’d use to describe Joe to young reporters when they asked her how it used to be when she was starting out. Joe told her to check in when she knew more and to be careful. “Watch your back,” he said driving off.

She needed to know more about the park, about the people who hung out there, unusual things that might have happened. She figured it would be smart to go back to where she started – with the guys in the homeless encampment. Except they weren’t there anymore. Clark was dead. Johnson was in a hotel. Charlie 8 had gotten out of jail and gone somewhere, she wasn’t sure where. And Ace and Beverly could be anywhere. She decided to try the meal program at St.  Paul’s. They were staying someplace else but probably still eating at St. Paul’s. It was the biggest meal program in town. Everybody went there.

They were all there. Ace, Beverly, Johnson, and Charlie 8 sat huddled at the end of a long table. They’d already gotten their plates filled – ham, mashed potatoes, some kind of corn casserole, salad, rolls, mountains of food intended to get them through a whole day. This was a one-stop meal program, no fooling around with portion control.

“Hey, guys. Remember me? Amanda? From the paper?” She motioned a request to sit down, and Beverly slid over to make room for her.

“I’m still working on a story about that guy Jacob getting killed at the Senior Center. And I’m thinking that maybe what happened to Clark is connected to that somehow.” She took out her pen and notepad, maybe too soon, because all four guys turned their attention to their plates, not wanting to look her in the eye.

“Well, I don’t know shit. I was in jail and then I decided to go into shelter. Been there ever since, getting organized, you know, pointed in the right direction and all that.” Charlie 8 smiled when he said all this but behind his smile was a thin slice of something else.

“So, you don’t know anything about any of this, right?” Amanda wasn’t ready to check him off the list of informants just yet.

“Maybe I know a little thing.”

“Like?”

“Like Jerky watched the camp get trashed. She was across the lake and saw it all. She told me that the person who did it was bad. Like it woulda been a good person, right?”

“That’s it? Is there more?” She wrote on her pad – camp trashed, bad person. It didn’t seem much to build into a story.

“This some risky business, lady,” said Ace, stuffing the last of the mashed potatoes in his mouth and sopping up the butter on his plate with one of the three rolls he had stacked next to his plate. “A lot we know. A lot we don’t know. Boys, go wait for me outside.”

After Beverly, Johnson, and Charlie 8 left, and they got and left the second Ace told them to as if they were soldiers in his own private little army, Ace scootched down to the very end of the table and motioned for Amanda to follow. He leaned in with his hands up around his face and began to whisper. From across the table, she leaned in to listen. His voice was so soft, she was tempted to crawl up on the table to get closer, but she could only inch forward as far as she could.

“You tell nobody this. And you don’t write nothin’. You got that?” Ace looked mean, so fierce that she wanted to tell him to keep his secrets.

“I got it.”

“Clark told me what went down with him and Jacob and the other guy. He never said the other guy’s name. We call him Mr. X.”

“Who’s we?”

“Me and Clark. The others, they don’t know.”

“Okay. So, what went down?” Amanda had already put her pen and notepad away. She wanted to know what had happened but was afraid of knowing. Her heart was beating so hard she thought she could hear it. Meanwhile, the volunteers at the meal program moved from table to table pouring coffee and water. Soon, they’d be at their table.

“Somethin’ bad a while ago. Maybe ten years, I don’t know. They did some bad shit. And Clark, it made him crazy with his big headaches, he call it his curse.”

“I’m trying to sort this out. Jacob, Clark, and Mr. X did something bad. And now both Jacob and Clark are dead. That leaves Mr. X, right?” Amanda felt like she was playing Tic Tac Toe.

“That right.”

“So, Mr. X is still around. Around here?”

“I think so. That who wrecked our camp. I bet. Who else?” Ace leaned back for a minute to pick his teeth with a toothpick he’d found deep in his pants pocket.

“And who was creeping around camp when I was staying in Clark’s tent? And who attacked Jerky in the woods?” Amanda felt like she was a child stacking blocks, one scary thing on top of another.

“Same guy if you ask me. He done all this shit.” Ace crumpled his napkin and threw it on his plate, ready to take his tray to the big garbage can in the corner, scrap everything off, and stack it with all the others. St. Paul’s was an orderly place. Everybody did their part.

“And his name is Mr. X,” said Amanda as she pushed herself up from the table, the conversation clearly ending.

“Yeah. That him.”