***
This hit and run thing seemed to really put a big concern into Daddy; maybe even more than the folks in town. I think the people in Barnsdall just wanted to believe it was a simple accident; a drunk gettin' hit by another drunk. It happens all the time right? I mean drunk drivers kill people everyday in America. There's no reason to think it was another in the string of murders we'd been havin' in town. Right?
It was so odd about town. I mean no one was hardly talking 'bout Billy's death at all. They didn't want to talk about it, think about it, or even believe it happened. Well that is happened as a murder anyways. Folks just wanted to chalk it up to late night drinkin' and drivin'. It couldn't happen to good folks that don't burn the midnight oil and frequent bars. Right? No it could only happen to the late night drunks; that is getting hit by a drunk driver, Lord knows Al Clement didn't mind if it was day or night. Did he?
Yeah the folks in town just chalked up William Countryman's plight to a sad accident. But I don't think it was that simple to Daddy. Like I said, he seemed pretty darned concerned about it; about what it could be.
"Daddy ? what do you really think happened to that Countryman fella? I asked this just a few minutes into dinner.
"Jessi ? ah Jessica, we're workin' to figure that out," Daddy paused from eating for a moment but didn't look up from his plate.
"Do you think you'll catch who did it?" I was hoping for some answers.
"Jessica honey, please let your Daddy eat in peace now," Momma said politely but it still annoyed me a little.
"It's ok Katherine ? what do you think Jessica?" Daddy sat his fork down on his plate and picked up his beer.
"Oh Daddy, I think you always get your man. Right?"
"We sure try honey ? we sure try," Daddy said as he ruffled my hair. I was gettin' so tired of that.
"What do you know so far? Was it an accident? Did the guy just drive off? Could it be ?" Momma interrupted me before I said it.
"Jessica eat up now; that's just too many questions for dinner time." Momma didn't want to hear my concern that it could be the restart of the murders. How could it be? Al Clement was in jail. Surely that was the end of that.
"It's ok Katherine ? really. Jessica, we know William Countryman was hit real hard, most likely by an automobile. We know he was three sheets to the wind and walkin' in the middle of the street. We know we can't find any witnesses and we know that makes figurin' all this out a lot harder. We know it could have been an accident, but then leavin' the scene of an accident escalates it to a serious crime. That's what we know so far."
"Yeah Daddy but was it murd ?," again Momma interrupted me.
"Jessica!" Momma shouted, which was odd for her. "Don't say such things ? don't even think them." Her face was growing pink.
"I'll just put it to ya this way Jessica ?," Daddy got up and started to walk toward his whiskey cupboard. " ? whether it was an intentional murder or a hit and run drunk driver at bar closing time, it was still a death in town. In my town!" Daddy sounded mad ? real mad.
With Momma yellin' at me and Daddy getting angry, I thought it was a good time to stop askin' questions. Daddy had his whiskey and I went back to eating, so did Johnny. Momma just stared at me for what felt like a lifetime. She was glaring at me really; I could feel her stare as I kept my eyes focused on my plate.
I'll tell ya, I was just as scared for Daddy as I was about the murder's startin' back up. He seemed so concerned about the whole thing.
Wear and Tear
It was quite the transformation. Daddy went from showing virtually no stress to mucho stress, just the day after the hit and run incident. While the town folk were ready to move on and label it as a tragic accident, it just wasn't that simple to Daddy. He let it eat him alive.
I was out back playin' with my doggy Hank when I heard some commotion in Daddy's work shed; like bangin' around in there. As I got closer I heard Daddy talkin'. At first I thought he was talking to someone; but then I realized he was talkin' to himself; ranting really.
"Was it murder? Was it an accident? What do people think? What will people think?" Daddy's voice had great concern in it.
"Does it even matter? It don't ? no it can't ? it don't matter ? it's still another death in Barnsdall ? in my town! In the town I'm paid to protect. How could I let this happen?" Just then is sounded like Daddy was bangin' pots and pans together. He must've kicked somethin' like an oil pan; sounded like it was bouncing across the floor of his work shed. I continued to listen; bein' real quiet.
"What can I do? Where can I go with this investigation? No witnesses! I suppose that's a good thing? No one to think anything but that it was an accident; well an accident with some dumbass drivin' off and makin' it into a hit and run. How do things get so far out of hand? Why do I let things get so far out a hand?" Daddy almost sounded like he could cry, though I doubted he ever did.
I heard Daddy open his mini frig and a pop of the top. I was pretty sure he wasn't drinkin' any of those Pepsi colas he kept in there for me. No he was puttin' the beers away. Seems the more drinkin' he does the more upset he let's himself get. It's scary sometimes; a lot of times. As I'd gotten older I realized I wasn't so scared of Daddy when he was drunk, but scared for Daddy. He just didn't seem to be able to control himself when he got like that. I sometimes felt like I was the parent and he was the child. He sure could behave like a juvenile delinquent sometimes.
Again, I love my Daddy, but I just can't help but feel like he's ? well a hypocrite. Yeah, I know that sounds just awful and that I'm sinnin' when I say it, but ? doggone it, it's the truth! I mean he preaches so loudly about followin' the law and actin' right, but then he turns right around and does the opposite. I think he believes 'cause he's a lawman that he can break some laws; you know 'cause he's working' so hard to keep us all safe that he should get a pass on some things. That may be true, but it ain't right. Right?
It got real quiet in Daddy's work shed for several minutes. I almost started to go back in the house when I heard Daddy scream out: "What's it all matter!" Then there was some more bangin' around.
"Hell why should I care what anybody thinks anyways!" Daddy's voice was goin' back and forth in the shed. He must've been pacing frantically. "I know what I'm doin' is right! I know that I'm keepin' Barnsdall safe. Everybody knows I caught that Al Clement. Hell he even confessed. What more do they want from me? Why can't they just leave me alone and let me do my job." It occurred to me that, to my knowledge, no one had been bugging Daddy about the hit and run accident. Why did he feel people wouldn't leave him alone about it? Maybe I didn't know what he was goin' through at work? That would be odd, 'cause he almost always talks about it at the dinner, or breakfast, tables. Heck it'd only been a day since the incident. How much complaining could Daddy have heard in a day? It was sure weighin' on him though.
"I'm headed in the right direction ? I'm doin' the right things ? people know that ? deep down folks know that!" Daddy sounded like he was pretty close to convincing himself ever'thing would be all right.
I have to agree with Daddy. I did think he was doing the right things. I believed in him at the time. I believed he was on the right track.
Daddy went on and on like that for a while, talkin' to himself. He got pretty repetitive so I slipped back in the house. I was sure he never even knew I was there.
Momma was in the house cuttin' up some chicken to fry. Daddy always said Momma gets a good scald on her chicken; and believe me, he's right! Best I've ever had.
Usually cookin' put Momma in a good mood but not that day. Seemed her and Daddy caught the same ole' worry bug. Some folks, some married folks that is, might have sat down together and discussed their concerns about what was goin' on; but not my Momma and Daddy, not this time anyways. No instead they went to separate ends of their universe to work it out on their own; work it out or let it eat them up; at that momen
t I really couldn't tell which they were accomplishing.
"So what's for dinner Momma?" I meant it as a joke as I could plainly see it was her famous fried chicken.
"Jessica ? honey ? what does it look like I'm cooking?" Momma didn't really snap at me, no she sounded more drained than mad, but her words still cut deep. I read them to say: "get on out of the kitchen girl and let me be".
"Oh, Momma's I'ze just kiddin', I can see what you're cookin'. Need any help?"
"Not today Jessica, why don't you go out back and play with Hank for a while ? Momma needs a few minutes alone." She sounded so sad.
"I was just out back playin' with Hank." I didn't mean this as disagreement with her, but just after I said it I realized she was gonna take it that-a-way.
"Did I ask you if you'd been playing with Hank? No I didn't. I asked you to go play with Hank. Now do as your told Jessica." She didn't even look up from the chicken; she just talked with her head down. She didn't yell or nothin', she just spoke right to the chicken!
"Ok, ok ? goodness," I said as I made my way back out the door from which I came. I was kind of surprised at Momma shooin' me away like that, but figured she deserved a break with all the stress her and Daddy must be under. So ? I didn't hold it against her.
But ? I also didn't do what she told me to. I'd had enough playin' with Hank. Instead I made my way down to the creek bank and pitched some rocks for a while. Long enough that I thought Momma would be in a better mood when I went back home; and Daddy would be done ? well done talkin' to himself.
I sat down at the creek not feelin' too sorry for myself, but sorry enough to think about it I guess. It occurred to me that grown ups sure do seem to take out their problems on other people, especially kids. Oh they say they want to be alone to think, you know work things out, but they say it so mean. And anyways, all their really doin' is saying to the kids: "get away kid ? you bother me!" That's what kids hear ? or that's what I heard.
The more I thought about it the more upset I got. Then it struck me that that's just what grown ups do; at least the grown ups in my house. Like Daddy for instance, talkin' to himself. I'm sure he was upset before he started talkin' out loud, but he seemed to get more and more upset as he actually spoke the words; like he was just purposely workin' himself up into a frenzy.
Well maybe it wasn't purposely, but it sure seemed to have a purpose. Like maybe older folks have to get sad, and then get mad, before they can get happy again. I don't know about that but Momma says things are more "complicated" as you get older. Things seemed complicated enough right then as a kid. She was right though ? things did get more complicated as time went by. A whole lot more complicated.
As the sun made its way behind the trees I thought I'd make my way back up to the house; whether Momma wanted me there or not. I sure didn't want the fried chicken to get cold. Although Momma's fried chicken is good hot or cold. But it's always better fresh right out of the fryin' pan, don't ya think?
Dinner was tense to say the least. I mean you could just feel the concern coming off both Momma and Daddy. Johnny was his normal chipper self though; that was quite refreshing considering the other company. No one said a word for the longest time. After a while I just couldn't stand it so I decide to break the silence.
"Mmm Momma ? you sure got a good scald on this chicken," I used the exact words Daddy often uses. I wondered if he noticed.
"Hmm ? what?" Momma must've been deep in thought 'cause she apparently didn't even hear me. Her tone said: "why did you interrupt me ? I'm tryin' to think over here?" Daddy didn't say a word. Johnny yelled out "chickEEEEen"!
"Quiet Johnny," said Daddy only looking up from his plate to his beer.
"I said the chicken's real good Momma," I looked at her but she didn't look back.
"What ? oh ? ah ? yeah, yes," Momma said under her breath, more at the food on the table than to me. She didn't look up either.
"So you want to hear 'bout what Heather got for her birthday?" I was just tryin' to break the ice. I wanted some chatter at the dinner table.
"Not really ? no," said Daddy real quiet; not authoritative like he normally sounds, more like he was asking a question.
"John! Where's your manners," Momma had snapped out of her state of unconsciousness quickly when she had to the opportunity to scold Daddy on manners.
"What? Jesus Christ Katherine," Daddy tossed a chicken leg down on his plate and began wiping the grease off his hand with his napkin. He looked like he was preparing for something. He was.
"John ? language," For some reason I found this humorous and laughed out loud at Momma's scolding. That didn't help things much.
"Ya know Katherine ? sometimes ?"
I thought POW right in the kisser, or was it one of these days POW right in the kisser? What ever.
" ? sometimes I just think you spoil that one too much," Daddy bobbed his head in my direction as he said this. I thought hay I'm right here ya know.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Momma's voice was high pitched and ready for battle.
"I mean you want to let her just run off at the mouth ? sometimes kids are better seen than heard." Daddy's perspective was sometimes insulting; often insulting.
"John she was just wanting to talk about her friends birthday gift!"
"My bestest friend," I added; which was a mistake.
"See what I mean Katherine ? don't you correct your mother again," said Daddy with a piercing stare.
"Oh John she wasn't correcting me; just adding to the conversation ? goodness." Momma and Daddy were talkin' about me as if I were not even there. It was weird.
To tell you the truth; I was correcting Momma, though I shouldn't have been. I suppose all the stress coming off of Momma and Daddy was just impacting me too. I was starting to feel frustrated and was correcting Momma; for no good reason. But Heather is my bestest friend ya know!
"Katherine ? let's just have a quiet dinner for once," Daddy's voice demanded. It was not an option; at least Daddy thought so.
"Well well well ? Big John Long wants a quiet dinner," I knew with Momma's tone now that Daddy was in for some trouble.
"That's right Katherine," Daddy said sarcastically.
"John ? I'll tell you this ?" Momma had a tone of voice I rarely heard. It was a voice of pure force. " ? John it's none of us that usually make dinner something other than 'quiet'. No it's not us at all; instead it's you ? Big John Long, Chief of Police of the big town of Barnsdall that chatters away during dinner. We just sit and politely listen to your ranting and raving about how hard your job is day in and day out. That's what usually makes dinner time ? not quiet!" Momma may have gone a bit far, but when you keep things bottled up the way she does it's bound to come spillin' out sometime; and probably more than you hoped to spill when it does.
"Just what the fuck is that supposed to mean huh? I'm botherin' ya'll? Ya'll just can't stand to hear me talk huh?" Daddy's words were obviously defensive, and his voice sounded hurt.
"That's not what I'm saying John and you know it."
"Well that's what it sounds like to me," Daddy got up and took a long stride to his whiskey cupboard.
"John we're all under a lot of stress right now. Let's not make things worse by fighting amongst ourselves. Ok?"
"Well then don't use fightin' words Katherine if you ain't up for a fight," Daddy blurted out just before a shot of whiskey. The first of three in a row I counted.
I thought to myself about how sure, there was stress about the possibility of that hit and run being another murder. But ? I didn't feel a lot of stress until Momma and Daddy started bickerin'. I thought about how goofy adults can be; ignorant really. They didn't even realize they were really the ones causing the most stress; not the circumstances. They were the ones with their fighting and arguing that upset dinner; at least for me anyways. Johnny wasn't bothered; he just smiled through the whole thing.
"John do you have to
do that?" Momma couldn't let it go. She had to take the opportunity to scold Daddy on his whiskey consumption. She must have been makin' up for missing the scolding on the "F" word.
"I'm a big boy Katherine ? I can handle my liquor," Daddy replied sarcastically with just a slight slur to his voice. After all, I think he'd been drinkin' beer most of the evening and I know I counted three already during dinner ? that's in addition to the whiskey.
"Well John you should be able to handle your liquor ? you must have quite the tolerance built up by now," Momma said this softly but quickly. I think she realized she went too far right after she said it.
"What the hell Katherine! Now it's not just my talkin' it's who I am as a person too?"
"You think drinking is who you are as a person?" Momma had a good point with that question. I hoped that wasn't how Daddy defined himself; well beyond being a lawman.
"No Katherine ? but it just looks like your nitpickin' me to death tonight," Daddy said with another shot.
"Well maybe I have a bad day sometimes too John. Did you ever think of that? Huh!" Momma started cryin' and then ran back to Momma and Daddy's bedroom.
"Well Daddy ? you do drink a lot." I don't know why I said this. I don't even remember thinking it before the words came out. I've learned now that speakin' before you think usually is a recipe for disaster. But surprisingly, the hands of fate were kind to me this time.
"Drinking's good for the soul Jessi." That's all he said to me. He didn't yell at me. He didn't scold me. He didn't tell me to shut up. His whole point of view was that his drinkin' was good for him. I guess it was an escape from reality for him; an escape from his stressful job maybe? Maybe more.
Momma didn't come out of her room the rest of the night. I went ahead and took it upon myself to clean up the dishes. Daddy took it upon himself to finish off both the whiskey he had in the cupboard and the beer that was in the frig. Don't worry though, he always has a stash out in his work shed, ya know in his mini frig. He won't go without tomorrow if he can't make it to the liquor store.
I also put little Johnny to bed. I felt like I was the parent and Momma and Daddy were a couple of unruly teenagers. My respect for them was shaken pretty bad that night. But that shake was just a minor shock compared to the earthquake that was to come.
Sometimes today I try to put myself in Momma's shoes, but back then I was just caught up in the moment I guess. What I mean is that sometimes it's hard to see exactly what's goin' on when you're in the heat of the moment. Momma calls it hind sight's 20/20.
I have to say I don't believe in that hind sight bein' 20/20 thing. I mean sure you know more when you can look back at something, 'cause it already happened ? duh! But the truth is I don't know a whole lot about why things happened back then like they did. Sure I have my ideas, but I just can't get myself to let my mind wander that far. It's probably best. Deep down inside I probably don't want to know why or how it came to be. I probably couldn't take it; maybe after more time goes by.
Anyway ? Momma's and Daddy's shouldn't be fightin'. At least not in front of their kids! I don't know if they just couldn't help themselves or if they simply didn't care, but I doubt they can grasp just how much of an impact it had on me.
Ya know what? It's really strange the way grown ups seem to forget what it's like to be a kid. I mean they were kids once too. Right? I mean surely they can understand how a kid feels; what a kid needs from their parents. But they don't. At least it doesn't seem like they do. No parents more act like their kids are some alien beings that are a complete wonder to them. Like the kids are different from them. We're not really different. I suppose unless something happens when you get older and you change so much that you can't even fathom who you were when you were young.
That might be it right? That at some point, after so much time has gone by in your life; well ? you just can't remember far enough back to what it was like to be a child. No ? that can't be it. Well ? we'll see. Somethin' tells me I'll never forget those sad events that were to come.
What started the fightin'? Was it really the killings in town or was it something more than that? I didn't know at the time. What I did know was that, murder or not, that hit and run was disturbing. I mean really ? when will the dying stop? Or maybe a better way to put it is when will the killing stop? When will Daddy (Chief of Police, Big John) make it stop?
A Stressful Day
As I overheard Daddy tellin' Momma
At least Daddy and Momma were back on speaking terms again, that was my first thought when I heard the voices comin' from the bedroom. They weren't whispering but they weren't talkin' right out loud either. The door was ajar, almost closed as well. Based on these things I had to assume they didn't want me hearing what they were talkin' 'bout.
I didn't mean to stumble across their conversation, I was just headin' out the back door to go out and play with Hank for a bit; but when I heard them low talkin' I decided to listen for a while.
Well apparently Daddy was havin' a hard time at work; harder than usual anyways. It was a lot like the stories Daddy told all of us at the dinner table, but his tone was different ? the mood was different. The stories at the dinner table felt more like coffee shop talk. The story I overheard from Momma and Daddy's bedroom felt more like ? well more like scary tail told around a camp fire ? you know the kind where someone puts a flashlight under their chin and says WOOOOO!!!! at the end? You know the kind I mean?
The only thing is the story wasn't really scary in itself. No, it was more the way it was told, all in secret. It was the tone of voice and the nearly closed door. It was more than that I think.
Basically the story Daddy told Momma went like this:
"John I just think we should slow down and think this through," police officer Jerry Taylor chose his words carefully. He thought he chose them well ? but then again, he knew no words along this line would satisfy Big John Long.
"Oh shit Jerry, you think I'm being hasty; you think I'm not thinkin' huh," Daddy was feeling defensive. He gets so sick and tired of Jerry questioning his logic. Of all his police officers Jerry is the most ? well the least respectful.
"I'm not sayin' that John, I'm just sayin' it could be more than it appears." Jerry had a calm tone to his voice.
"Well Jerry ? all knowing one ? why don't you enlighten me. Why don't you tell me what it appears to be."
"Well John, on the surface it simply appears to be an accident. That William Countryman was simply ? accidentally ? struck by an auto. Then in a panic, maybe the driver just drove off, maybe he was drunk and didn't want to go to jail." Jerry tried to sound confident in his assessment but realized his voice was a bit shaky. It was hard for him to stay calm with his boss, because Chief of Police Big John Long could make stating anything he disagreed with ? well unpleasant ? very unpleasant indeed.
"Jerry Jerry Jerry," Daddy laughed loudly. "There are an awful lot of maybe's in that story of yours. Maybe this and maybe that! Sounds like you've really got it figured out," Daddy continued laughing with serious condescendence.
"Well John does anyone have it figured out yet? I mean we need to really think about this. We really need to take some time to understand what this might be. It might be ?" Daddy cut Jerry off.
"What Jerry? What might it be?" Daddy didn't really want an answer to his question.
"It might be ?" again Daddy cut him off.
"You know what you are Jerry? You're an alarmist. You like to make things into something they aren't. I think you like the excitement ? makes you feel important. So you try to blow things up into things they aren't." Jerry just stood there listening, waiting for a chance to speak.
"John, what I was trying to say was that ?" interrupted again.
"You're just not gonna let it go are ya Jerry?" Daddy smirked sarcastically, almost as if confident, but inside he was fearful. He actually had fear in his belly.
"I guess not John," Je
rry was speaking very fast, tryin' to get his words out before his boss had another chance to interrupt him. "I think it could be more than a simple accident, more than a hit and run." Jerry paused to take a breath, but wasn't finished yet. It didn't matter though, Daddy jumped in.
"Oh here we go Jerry ? here we go with your conspiracy theories."
"What?" Jerry asked this with sincerity. He couldn't ever remember bringing forward an idea that included a conspiracy theory. He decided to just chalk it up to Daddy's normally negativity toward him. He figured Big John was just grasping at straws, to try to shut him down; to try to shut his reasonable idea down.
"Oh you just have the most harebrained ideas Jerry," Daddy laughed, but sounded less sure of himself now.
"We have to consider that it could be a continuation of the ? the recent murders," Jerry blurted this out loudly as if he had to beat the thought into my Daddy's head through yellin'. He probably did.
"We have to do no such thing. We don't make the decisions 'round here Jerry ? I do. I decide what direction investigations go, not you."
"I realize that John, I'm just sayin' ?" Daddy interrupted ? again.
"You realize nothing Jerry!"
"John ? I realize we have a responsibility; no a duty, to see beyond the obvious here."
"Oh and I suppose you think you're the only one capable of doing that Jerry?"
"No John, no I'm not. I'm trying to get you to see what I'm talkin' about." Jerry sounded increasingly frustrated; and for good reason. He felt he was getting no where with Big John; he rarely did.
"Oh I see," replied Daddy with his eyes closed. It was an adolescent showing of sarcasm to say the least.
"Hell John it could be a continuation; or it could even be a copycat. We just don't know until we take a good look at it with an open mind; and open eyes." Jerry kind of goaded Daddy about his little display of eye closing. It was probably appropriate but Daddy took nothing but offense from it.
"Copycat! Jesus Jerry! Can't you think of somethin' better than that to waste our time on?"
Jerry became visibly angry. You can only push a man so far before he stops caring about authoritative structures like: who's boss, who's employee, what job is at stake or even polite etiquette. Jerry was to that point.
"I'll tell you what Big John!"
Daddy took a big sighing breath and said with annoyance in his voice: "Tell me what Jerry?"
"John, you were so forceful in getting the confession out of Al Clement, maybe ? just maybe you got the wrong guy. We've got the wrong guy behind bars! And there's still a killer out there lurking in our town." Jerry's voice sounded frantic even though he tried with all his might to remain calm.
"Lurking ? LURKING! Jerry could you think of a more dramatic way of puttin' it? I'm not sure you've sensationalized your perspective enough. I guess I'm just closed minded, and eyed; but I just don't think I understand you yet." Daddy had a smirk on his face. Jerry just stood there waiting for some reasonable response that in the back of his mind, he knew would never come.
"Tell you what Jerry. I got the right guy. Al Clement did it and that's that. Now you drop it and get your ass back to work!" With that Daddy ended the conversation.
Daddy strongly disagreed with Jerry's idea; at least verbally. But in Daddy's mind, what he wouldn't say out loud; was that he agreed with Jerry on this one. However, the last thing he needed was for Jerry to be goin' up and down Main Street tellin' folks the murders are continuing. Right or wrong Jerry couldn't be doin' that, and it was up to Daddy to hold him in check; so he did.