Chapter 5
Five
Floy got home, put away groceries, then went to make up his bed.
At the same time, Judge Benton pulled into the parking lot behind his office. He entered carrying his suit coat and a briefcase.
Priscilla heard him come in through the back entry and called out, “Is that you?”
“Yes, it’s me,” Judge said, as he walked up to the front of the office. “Am I still needed at the jail?”
She sighed. “No, sir. Floy was at the hospital twice today, and twice at the police station. The last time, Chief Arnold arrested him for suspicion of killing his wife, convinced she had been missing for three days and the hog in Elvis was just Floy trying to set up an alibi for killing her and hiding the body.”
Judge froze. “You aren’t serious?”
“Oh, but I am,” Priscilla said. “And there is a denouement you need to hear. Mayrene called the beauty shop today, alive and well. It seems she was at her mother’s house.
There’s a long story to go with that, but the bottom line is that Arnold had to release him.
Clearly, it was too hard to make a murder charge stick after that call. ”
Judge’s eyes widened. “Chief Arnold charged Floy with murder? On what grounds?”
Priscilla frowned. “If you ask me, it’s because he didn’t know what else to do.
It’s not like we have ever had a murder in Blackjack before.
Having to recant his decision to charge him so fast must have been embarrassing.
Floy was first taken to the ER after the chief thought Floy had had a nervous breakdown, and his condition only got worse after he was arrested.
Then the chief was forced to give him a ride home.
I guess Floy is doing okay. He’s at least functioning, and I know that because Sister Carter saw him in Pic Pac buying groceries, and you know how she likes to be the first in town with all the news.
She said he looked like he’d been in a war.
Stitches. Black eyes. Walking like he hurts all over. ”
Judge nodded. “So, Mayrene’s back in town.”
Priscilla pursed her lips. “She came and she went. They’re saying that Floy kicked her and her mama, Quilla, out of his house.
Someone drove by the house and said they saw Mayrene and Quilla dragging garbage bags full of something to Quilla’s car.
He doesn’t need someone to get him out of jail anymore, but I’d lay odds he’s going to be needing a divorce lawyer. ”
Judge nodded. “Then I’ll wait to hear from him. Are there any other pressing matters today?”
“No, sir. You have that one appointment tomorrow at ten o’clock.”
Judge frowned. “Remind me what it’s about?”
Priscilla smirked. “It’s with the dude who wants to file charges against his neighbor—the one who has the redbone hound. It got out of his pen and impregnated the dude’s golden retriever, remember?”
Judge sighed. “Now, remind me again why I thought it was a good idea to hang my shingle in a town with a dwindling population, located on the side of a mountain in a Kentucky hollow.”
“Because you were born here, and Moe’s your only family?”
Judge sighed. “Right. Home sweet home . . . which is where I’m headed. Lock up behind me. It’s time for us to put an end to this day.
The drive up to Quilla’s house was nothing short of chaos. Mayrene wailed and blamed, while Quilla remained silent. Her daughter would get over it, and Quilla wouldn’t be living alone anymore—unless Floy’s warning about charges being filed turned out to be true.
It was dark before they had all of Mayrene’s clothes hung up in her old bedroom and her toiletry articles crammed onto one side of the bathroom counter.
It was the only bathroom in the house, and Mayrene wanted to be mad at her mother for this outcome.
She wanted to blame Floy for such an outrageous reaction without admitting it all began the moment she slapped her husband’s face announcing Elvis’s escape.
And there was that damn jar of green beans she caused to break on her husband’s belly, leaving it looking like she’d run a cheese grater over it.
She wanted to hate them all, but she was too exhausted to care, and cried herself to sleep.
That same night, Floy crawled into his own bed for the first time in days.
The sheets were cool and clean, and the pillow beneath his head felt comforting and familiar.
He fell asleep within minutes and woke to sunlight coming in through the half-drawn curtains.
He glanced at the clock. It was a quarter to eight. He hadn’t slept this late in years.
He’d gone to bed nude and stayed that way as he got up to start coffee, then he went to the bathroom to shower and get dressed. The still-healing razor cut on his chin meant shaving was still off-limits, leaving the days-old-growth of whiskers close to becoming a coal-black beard.
He gently fingered the tender spot on the back of his head where he had stitches, then he turned on the water and stepped beneath the spray before the water had had time to warm.
He thought about the stitches and then shrugged.
Good or bad, the bean juice was coming out of his hair today.
He squirted a little shampoo in the palm of his hand, then began shampooing and rinsing his hair beneath the shower head, followed by the most careful shower he’d ever taken in his life.
Using his hands rather than a washcloth, he began gently soaping and rinsing his body, determined not to disturb even one healing scab.
When he got out, he used a towel to pat off excess water, then went out onto the back porch with his coffee to air-dry. He didn’t have close neighbors. If anyone was in the woods behind his property gawking where they weren’t supposed to be, then it was on their heads if they got an eyeful.
Once he’d dried off, he went inside, poured himself a bowl of cereal, added a little milk, and scooped a bite into his mouth as he opened his laptop.
The first move he made was updating his cell phone account.
He was still chewing and swallowing cereal as he scanned the options.
As soon as he found what he needed, he permanently removed her name from his personal phone plan, then moved to another site and canceled her credit cards.
Once he’d finished his cereal, he took his antibiotic , as well as over-the-counter pain meds, and sat down in his recliner with a second cup of coffee.
He turned on the TV to check the weather, then scrolled stations until he found a Jason Statham movie.
He turned the volume down a bit and settled in to witness vengeance in action.
It was oddly satisfying to watch blood flying when it wasn’t his and witnessing bad guys getting what they deserved.
Even if it was a movie. Even if the blood was fake.
Despite the continuing destruction in the movie, the pain meds began to take effect.
The constant throbbing in his body eased.
His eyelids drooped. He exhaled softly. The remote slipped from his hand into his lap.
He was asleep when the mailman stopped at the mailbox at the end of his driveway to deliver his mail.
Quilla and Mayrene drove into Blackjack the following morning to get groceries, completely unaware that the entire town now knew of their deceit, and that Mayrene’s lies had incriminated her own husband to the point of him being arrested for suspicion of her murder.
They drove into Conrad’s Pic Pac parking lot and got out. Sweat immediately beaded under Mayrene’s armpits, reminding her to get deodorant, too. She walked into the store ahead of her mother to get a cart.
Quilla was digging the grocery list out of her purse when she heard someone snort and looked up.
It was Myra Emory, the school bus driver, blocking Mayrene’s cart.
“After what you two did, you have some nerve showing your faces,” Myra said.
Unprepared for the verbal assault, Mayrene took a step back.
Quilla took the other road and bowed up like a pissed-off civet cat.
“Mind your business,” Quilla snapped.
“Your stunt made it everyone’s business,” Myra said.
“You caused an all-out panic in Blackjack and the surrounding area, giving us the impression a deadly animal was still on the loose in the neighborhood when you knew better. Never mind the cold shaft to the heart you gave Floy, leaving him to believe you’d been eaten by his snake.
” Looking at Mayrene, she added, “Gossip is, you’re the one who kept letting Elvis loose.
You’re both despicable,” she hissed, then turned her back on them and continued shopping.
Mayrene was frozen in place. How did they know? How did they know?
Quilla rolled her eyes, pushed her daughter aside, and began going down the aisles, gathering what they needed into the shopping cart and glaring at anyone else who even pretended to get in her way.
Mayrene followed in silence, and when they passed by the toiletries, put a roll-on deodorant in the basket and kept her head down.
She hadn’t expected to ever get caught. If she’d only known about that security camera.
If she hadn’t listened to her mother. If she’d just left a note or called Floy the moment she realized she’d forgotten her phone.
If. If. If.
And here she was.
She tried to call Floy while her mother checked out, only to discover her phone no longer worked. As soon as they got in the car, Mayrene pointed down the street.
“Mama, I need to stop by the AT&T place. I think my phone needs a new battery. It went dead.”
Quilla sighed. “You’ll have to be quick. We got stuff already melting here in the car.”
“Then turn on the air conditioner and roll up the damn windows while I go in,” Mayrene snapped, and her mother grudgingly obeyed.
It took exactly three minutes for one of the employees to tell her there was nothing wrong with her phone other than she was no longer signed up with a service provider.