Sunset and Sawdust

  “I’m going to say I do. I better not hear a word about this body being found on Zendo’s land from anyone, because I’ll know where the word came from.”

  Willie grinned. “You wouldn’t threaten me, would you, little lady?”

  “I will,” Hillbilly said.

  Willie studied Hillbilly for a long moment. “Never said I would tell. You’re both being rude.”

  “I’m just a little frayed,” Sunset said. “I’ve had a rough month.”

  “Suppose you have,” Willie said. He extended his hand to Hillbilly. “No hard feelings.”

  He took Willie’s hand and shook it. “None. But, still, don’t say anything.”

  “Think that might have been a little excessive?” Sunset said.

  They were riding along in the truck, heading back to Sunset’s tent.

  “I suppose,” Hillbilly said. “Just didn’t like the way he was talking.”

  “I can handle myself. You start handling things for me when I don’t need for you to, don’t ask you to, people will think I can’t do what needs to be done.”

  “I just don’t like that guy.”

  “I think the feeling was mutual. I don’t think he liked me either.”

  “He liked you all right. I could tell the way he looked at you, especially when you didn’t know he was looking.”

  “Was that the reason you were so hot under the collar?”

  “I’m going to be damn honest, Sunset. I ain’t the jealous kind.”

  “Oh,” Sunset said.

  When they arrived at Sunset’s tent, they found Ben lying under a tree on his back with his paws in the air. He turned his head to look at them, but unlike before he didn’t act frightened and he didn’t dart away.

  “You done spoiled him,” Hillbilly said.

  “I certainly hope so. He’s had enough of the bad life. For that matter, so have I.”

  Inside the tent, Karen, fresh from a bath, well-dressed and groomed, sweet-smelling, greeted them.

  “My,” said Hillbilly, “aren’t you the picture?”

  And she was. She looked older than her years. Wore her black hair down, way her mother did, and her dark eyes looked as if they had been spit-shined.

  “Just threw something on, really,” Karen said.

  Hillbilly grinned.

  “Think I’m going to make some notes,” Sunset said. “That’s what Pete used to do. Seems like a good idea.”

  “What did you see?” Karen said.

  “A dead body,” Sunset said. “And that’s all we know.”

  “I thought I might go for a walk,” Karen said. “You want to walk, Hillbilly?”

  “I’ll walk with you,” Hillbilly said. “I’m not taking any notes.”

  “Watch for snakes,” Sunset said.

  Inside she pulled out Pete’s notes on the baby found at Zendo’s. She thought about the body she had seen. Seemed obvious there was some kind of connection.

  But what kind?

  Who was the woman they had dug up today?

  The baby. Whose baby was it? Was it black or white?

  Did Zendo know more than he let on?

  No. That didn’t seem right. Zendo seemed honestly upset. Of course, it could be an act, but she didn’t think so. Finding a body, reporting it like that might be a way to throw suspicion off yourself if you were white, but a colored man doing it— Didn’t make sense. Not when colored were normally assumed guilty.

  Nope. Zendo was truly trying to do the right thing.

  Did the baby belong to the woman, and if so, why were the bodies found so far apart in time?

  What was the oil about?

  Why Zendo’s field?

  And why would anyone bury a body straight down, like a post?

  Sunset tapped the pencil on the table, finally pulled paper in front of her and wrote down the day’s events. She tried to remember everything said and done.

  When she finished writing, she had the sinking feeling that she didn’t have idea one where to go next with this investigation.

  Investigation.

  Damn, she thought. I’m investigating. I’m like a detective.

  Hell. I am the law. Me. Sunset Jones. The law. Constable Sunset, you bet your ass.

  But she still didn’t know what to do.

  13

  When Clyde’s drunk began to wear off, he awoke with a headache and the stinking smell of smoke in his nose. He looked at the ruins of his house. He didn’t feel quite as happy about what he had done as before, but, on the other hand, he wasn’t depressed either.

  Well, no more than before he burned down his house.

  Just thinking about Sunset and knowing he and she were about as likely as shooting a duck and having it hit the ground dressed and ready to be eaten.

  He studied the smoldering ruins a while, then got up. When he did, it was like a shot went through his body and blew out the top of his head.

  Whisky.

  Bad idea, he thought. Bad idea.

  Clyde sat for a while longer, and as the day grew cooler he grew restless and stronger and courageous enough to stand. He went to the well, cranked up a bucket of water and poured it over his head. He did this twice. He pulled up some more and drank from the bucket, poured the rest over his head.

  He took out his pocket comb and combed his hair by feel and hoped he didn’t look too ridiculous. He started walking down the path that led to the main road. He hadn’t intended to do it, but all of a sudden he was walking, and at a brisk pace. As he walked, his head seemed to bob, as if it were about to come loose at the neck. The inside of his skull felt as if someone had held a rodeo there.

  The day was so hot that by the time he reached the road his hair was already beginning to dry, and long before he reached his destination, the water that had spilled on his shirt and pants was dry as well.

  It took him about two hours to get within reasonable distance of Sunset’s place, and before he turned the corner that led to the last stretch of road that ran up to it, he saw Hillbilly come out of the woods, Karen beside him.

  Hillbilly was smiling and Karen was laughing. Hillbilly stopped near the road and picked limbs and grass off the back of Karen’s dress, and when he finished, Karen leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. He took her hand and held it, and finally she stretched away from him, letting her hand stay in his until she just had to let go. She turned, started back in the direction of the tent.

  Hillbilly stood for a while, watching Karen retreat. Finally, when Karen was around the curve, he turned, unzipped his fly and began to pee.

  Clyde, standing still at the edge of the road, partially concealed by bushes, hadn’t been seen.

  He waited a moment, and when Hillbilly fastened up his pants, Clyde stepped out of concealment, walked over to him.

  “What in hell are you doing here?” Hillbilly said.

  “Walking.”

  “I see that. Why?”

  “I burned my house down.”

  “What?”

  “Burned it down.”

  “How did that happen?”

  “I set it on fire.”

  “You set it on fire?”

  “That’s right. You ain’t got no place to come back to now, Hillbilly. You’re going to have to do otherwise. All I got now is a tarp and some of my stuff under it.”

  “Why in the world would you burn your house down?”

  “I got tired of it. I seen Karen kissing you.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “Hey, just an innocent peck on the cheek.”

  “It looked more like a thank-you, if you know what I mean.”

  “Hell, girl’s old enough to make her own decisions.”

  “Some slick talker like you, she’s young enough to be thinking she’s making decisions you’re making for her.”

  “I said she was old enough and I could do what I wanted, but I didn’t say anything happened. You’re jumping to conclusions. Hell, man, you been drinking. You s
mell like a barroom floor.”

  “Sunset likes you.”

  “I know that.”

  “That’s her daughter.”

  “I know that too.”

  “You ain’t easy to reach, are you, Hillbilly?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Ain’t you got feelings?”

  “Plenty of them.”

  “Just all of them are for you.”

  “It’s that way with everyone, Clyde. Lot of people think they’re generous, put others before them, but it ain’t true. Not really. I’m just watching out for myself. That little girl wants to give me a peck on the cheek, or anything else, that’s up to her. I want to let her, that’s up to me.”

  “You think you’re special, don’t you, Hillbilly?”

  “I think I got to do what I got to do, and that’s all I think.”

  “Don’t come back to my place tonight.”

  “No reason to. You burned it down. I’m going to go for a little walk. Tell Sunset I’ll be back in a shake. While you’re at it, ask her about the body we found today.”

  “Body?”

  Hillbilly went to the road, started walking in the opposite direction of Sunset’s tent. He paused, turned, said, “Hope you didn’t burn your house down just to get rid of me. All you had to do was ask. Besides, even if you start fresh, which is what I figure you think you’re doing, get a new hat and a close shave, it won’t make any difference. She still won’t be interested, friend. You’ll still be you.”

  “You don’t know nothing,” Clyde said.

  “Hell, I know that much.”

  Clyde arrived at Sunset’s tent and Ben came up and smelled him. Clyde gave Ben a pat, went inside. Karen was sitting in a chair with a book in her lap. She was looking into space in a dreamy way. She didn’t even notice Clyde until he spoke to her.

  “Oh, hi, Clyde. Mama’s on the other side.”

  Clyde went around the curtain, found Sunset at the table, writing furiously on a yellow pad.She looked at him when he came in, held up a wait-a-minute finger, and continued writing.

  Clyde took a chair, watched her write. He liked watching her do most anything. Her hair was so red and long and smooth, flame-like, but much prettier in color than the fire that had licked his home to death. Her face was smooth and pink-cheeked and she had about the most beautiful nose and mouth he had ever seen. He really liked her mouth. Last night, in his dreams, her mouth had played a prominent part. He even liked the way her feet fit in her work boots; there was something so damn cute about those little feet in those work boots. And that thick gun belt. He shouldn’t think of that as cute, but he did. If she had suddenly bent over and farted out “Old Man River” to the beat of her tapping feet, he knew he would have found that cute as well.

  Cute. He had never even let the word run around in his mind before.

  “You been building a fire, burning brush?” Sunset asked.

  “Something like that. Hillbilly said he’d be back in a few shakes.”

  Clyde thought about what he had seen, realized he hadn’t really seen anything. He thought he ought to say something anyway, but wasn’t sure what to say. All he had seen was a kiss, and on the cheek.

  “Oh, has Karen come back?” Sunset asked.

  “Yeah. She’s on the other side, sitting with a book. Hillbilly told me to ask about the body you found.”

  “I was just writing about it. Zendo found it.”

  “Another one?”

  “Not a baby this time.” And Sunset told him all about it.

  When she finished, she said, “Hillbilly thinks Zendo might be involved.”

  “He ain’t.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “I’ve known Zendo all my life. I’ve known Hillbilly a few weeks. He ain’t near the smart fella he thinks he is. I wanted to know something, I’d ask Zendo before I’d ask Hillbilly. Unless it was how to lay out under a tree.”

  “Hillbilly seems bright enough.”

  Clyde made a noise in his throat that sounded like someone who had just discovered he had been spoon-fed horse turds, but he decided not to carry on about Hillbilly any more. He thought he probably was making mountains out of molehills. When it came to Hillbilly, he wasn’t the one to be asked an opinion.

  “Was it a murder?” Clyde said.

  “I think it was. Preacher Willie is looking at the body. It sure didn’t bury itself in that field, but I can’t tell how she died. Body is too worn away. Suppose she could have just died and someone decided to plant her out there like a tater, but I doubt it.”

  “Got any ideas for figuring out who done it?” Clyde asked.

  “Not a one. I thought I’d write down what I know, look through Pete’s files, see if that would help me.”

  “By finding something like it?”

  “That’s what I thought too, Clyde. Maybe there’s been something like it before. Well, there has.”

  “The baby.”

  “Right. But maybe something else kind of like it. Where Pete knew who done it or had some idea.”

  “Wouldn’t you have heard about it?”

  “Pete didn’t tell me anything. But the bottom line is I looked to see if there were any similar things happened, and I didn’t find nothing.

  “Thing I will say, Pete was pretty careful about writing down his constable business. There’s a note on damn near everything. Most of them are brief, and he made them for him to know what he was talking about, so he could look back and remember. Some of this stuff, I don’t really know what he’s saying.”

  “You think a person can start over, Sunset?”

  “Do what?”

  “You know, change their lives. Maybe get something better for themselves.”

  “Well, you got this job for as long as it lasts. That beats the sawmill, don’t it?”

  “I mean really change? Change themselves.”

  “I hope so. Yeah. I think so. I swear, Clyde, you been around a hell of a fire. You’re making my eyes water.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I said you smell like a campfire.”

  “I smell like it cause I burned my house down.”

  Sunset’s mouth fell open. When she cranked it back up, she said, “My God. How did it happen?”

  “I used a match.”

  “You did it?”

  “Yep.”

  “On purpose?”

  “Purposeful as I could.”

  “Where will Hillbilly stay?”

  The question was like an arrow in his heart.

  “I don’t know. Not with me. Hell, I don’t give a damn where he stays.”

  Sunset’s face soured slightly. She said, “Are you having trouble with Hillbilly?”

  “Just a little.”

  Ben barked, then Hillbilly appeared, pushing a hanging blanket aside. Sunset looked up at him. Clyde watched her face light up like a kerosene lamp in a dark, windowless house.

  “Clyde burned his house down,” Sunset said. “On purpose.”

  “Yeah,” Hillbilly said. “I heard.”

  Karen slipped in beside Hillbilly. She said, “He did what?”

  Sunset said what she had said before.

  “Clyde,” Karen said, “why would you do such a thing?”

  “Starting over, honey,” he said, “and burning out rats.”

  “That’s funny,” Karen said, and she smiled big. “You burned your whole house down to get rid of rats.”

  Clyde watched Sunset study Karen’s smile, and thought, Yeah, that rat thing isn’t that funny, is it? And that smile she’s got, it’s the first big one she’s had since before her daddy died. I know it, honey, and you know it. And I think I know why, and though it’s great she’s happy, and I can tell you want to be happy for her, if I’m right, it’s wrong why she’s happy, cause she’s just a kid, and Hillbilly, he’s such a liar. You big beautiful redheaded gal, do you even suspect? Have you got any idea?

  Course not. You’re blind as Ka
ren on account of that sonofabitch. Man, I can smell the heat coming off of you and her, coming off you for him. All hot and wet and willing, and here I am, wanting you, loving you, and you ain’t even seeing me.

  And maybe I’m the one who’s full of it. Maybe he and Karen ain’t got nothing going, except maybe he’s like a daddy to her, and they were just walking in the dark part of the goddamn woods, and that’s all there is to it, and maybe I’m jealous of you and Hillbilly, how you feel about him. Yeah, that could be it or part of it.

  Hell. Of course it is.

  14

  The big truck rumbled along and now and then coughed black smoke. The hood rattled where it was tied down with a strand of baling wire and the body listed to one side where the shocks were wore out. It had big side boards and inside the bed were five men and three women and a kid, a boy about thirteen. The man driving was a red-faced guy with a cigar growing out of his teeth. He didn’t have anyone sitting in the truck beside him, and wouldn’t let anyone ride there, not even one of the wore-out women.

  He had picked them all up earlier that day at the cotton gin in Holiday. Folks gathered there regularly looking for work, usually not finding it, and he knew he could pick up day labor by just showing up and promising a dollar a day to work his fields, which were way out of town, out in the low, damp lands between the trees.

  Now that his crew was finished working, were hot and sweaty and worn out, he was supposed to take them on into Camp Rapture so they could look for work at the sawmill, and it was time to pay up.

  He let out the clutch as he shifted to a lower speed to take a hill, didn’t feed it any gas. The truck bunny-hopped and died. He pulled on the parking brake, got out, went around to the rear.

  “I got some trouble,” he said.

  There was a slight groan from the folks in the truck, and one of them, wearing an old suit coat that was so damn thin you could almost see the green stripes on his shirt through it, sat up, took hold of the side boards and looked through them.

  He was a big fellow, strong-looking, gone a little to fat. His hair had that look red hair gets when it goes gray.

  “You just worked the clutch wrong,” the man in the coat said.

  “Well, it was that, but there’s something wrong with it. I’ve had it happen before. I want everyone to get out and give me a push and maybe I can jump the clutch and start it.”