A redheaded woodpecker drilled on a cottonwood tree behind the cabin. The noise awoke Ruth Ann, fuzzy on where she was and how she got here. Above her no ceiling, only rafters festooned with spider webs.
She looked to her left and saw Shane sitting on a bed, sharpening something with a stone. “Good morning,” she said, smelling her breath, wishing she’d brought toothpaste. Shane grunted and continued what he was doing.
The cabin was smaller than she’d thought. The floor simply a dirty slab of concrete. A large rock fireplace dominated one side of the room. The walls, hewed logs, were soot-black and oozed resin. No window or back door.
Ruth Ann stared at Shane, shirtless, wearing only black slacks torn and frayed at the cuffs. The same pants he’d worn to the funeral. She couldn’t distinguish his face with his head down, intently focused on whatever he was doing.
Uncombed light-brown afro speckled with green bits. Hands and bare feet particularly dirty. Yet he looked very much a man. Tall, lean, muscular, curly hairs sprouting on his chest, he was the twin image of his father.
“Where’s the restroom?” she asked him. “I need to freshen up.”
Shane stopped his work and looked up at her. “No bathroom. You can go behind a tree. No one will see you.”
“Never mind. What are you doing?”
“Sharpening my arrows,” resuming his work.
Ruth Ann sat up and noticed the couch she’d slept on was orange. An orange, paisley couch. It stinks! She sniffed her T-shirt. Ugh! The same odor as the couch. Orange funk.
“Shane, is there any water around here?”
“Behind the cabin, not too far down, there’s a stream.”
Does it have a faucet, hot and cold taps? “Shane, honey, how long do you plan to live out here?”
He looked up and smiled, teeth straight but yellow. “This is my home. You’re the one visiting.”
“Don’t you get lonely here? I mean, don’t you think about girls. A handsome-looking young man like yourself, some girl would be glad to get her hooks into you.”
Shane shook his head. “Girls laugh at me. Always have. I don’t even say nothing and they start laughing. Here I don’t get laughed at.”
“Sugar, at sometime or other, everyone gets laughed at. It’s no big deal. I promise you all the girls won’t laugh at you, not with your looks. You’ll never know if you stay up here. You have to get out, take chances. You can’t hide from life.”
Shane stood up, countenance conveying discomfort with the conversation. “I’m going hunting. I thought there was enough meat. It isn’t. There’s two turtle eggs round back. You can eat em.” He started for the door, stopped and stepped to her. “Don’t move.”
“What?”
“There’s a tick on your neck.”
Slapping her neck: “What!” She felt something… A bump?… My God, a tick!… She screamed. “Get it off me, Shane! Get it off me!”
Shane tilted her head with one hand and pinched her neck with the other. “Here it is,” presenting a small brown bug with a white dot on its back.
Ruth Ann almost fainted. “What if it has Rocky Mountain spotted fever? Or West Nile disease? I’m dead!”
“I doubt it. They bite me all the time. The head is still in. You’ll know if you start getting sick.”
“What! The head is still in?”
“I didn’t get it all out, just the body.”
“I feel sick already,” rubbing her neck. She did feel queasy and her neck felt a little swollen where the tick was imbedded.
“I’m going hunting. Might be a while ’fore I get back.”
“Shane, you can’t leave! A tick with a dot bit me!”
“We need food,” and walked out.
Ruth Ann started to follow him but didn’t. If some unknown tick virus was circulating through her body, she’d better conserve her energy. When Shane came back she would have him walk her down the hill. He could stay as long as he liked, but she’d overstayed her welcome.
She couldn’t get the tick out of her mind. If she’d been infected with a deadly virus, what would be the first symptom? What if she was too weak to yell for help?
She jumped up and stripped out of her clothes. The tick might have brought a relative or two along with him. She scrutinized her entire body, including the bottom of her feet, and didn’t find anything. She put her clothes back on and lay down on the couch.
An hour later: “Peekaboo!” Shane, back already. “Ruth Ann, wake up.” Not Shane—a woman’s voice. She opened her eyes and screamed.
“Howdy,” Shirley said, standing over her, pointing a gun in her face.
“Shirley, please! Please, Shirley! Don’t shoot me! Don’t shoot me! Think about Momma—this’ll kill her.”
“Shut up! You didn’t think about Momma, did you? Didn’t think about any of your family, did you? Your husband, your son, my son, me, nobody! Only thought about your-damned-self, as usual.”
“Shirley, please! I don’t want to die!”
“I’m sure you don’t. Didn’t you think I’d be a teeny weenie bit upset when I found out about you and Eric? Didn’t you think Shirley might ding out and do something drastic?”
“Yes, I did!”
“Anything you have to say before you go?”
“Please, Shirley! Please! Don’t do this to me!”
Shirley thumbed the trigger. “That’s it? Nothing for Momma? Shane? Lester? What about Eric? Surely you want to leave him a message.”
Ruth Ann covered her face with both hands. “Oh God!”
“One last thing before you go. Do you love him?”
“Love who?”
“Lil Wayne, dammit! You know who!”
“Just shoot me and get it over with!”
“Take your hands down and look at me! And answer the damn question! Do you love him?”
Ruth Ann shook her head… and felt the gun on the back of her hand.
“Take your hands down and talk to me or I’ll shoot you in your knee.”
Ruth Ann dropped her hands and said, “No! No, I do not!”
“Tell me why, Ruth Ann? Why were you fucking him?”
Ruth Ann stared at her knees, opened her mouth and closed it. A lone tear trickled down her face.
“Shirley, I don’t know why!” She started crying. “I’m sorry, Shirley. I’m so sorry! I never meant to hurt you. I swear I didn’t. It just happened. It shouldn’t have happened, but it happened. I swear to God I never intended to hurt you! Never! Go ahead, Shirley, kill me! I don’t deserve to live! Kill me!”
“You’re so right,” backing up a step. “Close your eyes, you’ll never know what hit you.”
Ruth Ann’s eyes bulged. “Wait a minute, Shirley!” She raised her hands, shielding her face. “Just wait a minute! Maybe we could work this out another way. Why don’t you just beat me down? Okay? You don’t have to shoot me. Just beat me bloody!”
“You do your dirt and when it’s time to pay the piper, you squeal like a chicken.”
“Bawk-bawk-bawk-bawk!”
“Funny. Doesn’t change anything. Have a nice trip. See ya!”
Ruth Ann closed her eyes. This is it, the end! Seconds ticked by… no bang.
She opened one eye… Shirley was sitting on the bed, the gun on the floor between them. She rolled onto the floor, grabbed the gun and pointed it at Shirley. “Don’t move!”
Shirley rolled her eyes at her. “I knew you would do that. It’s a pellet gun, Ruth Ann, and it’s not loaded.”
“Pellet gun?” She read the word on the barrel. Mattel. “Shirley, I-what-why-how come—”
“Sit down and listen to what I have to say.”
Ruth Ann shuffled to the couch, staring at the gun. Pellet gun!
“Each month Mrs. Avery sends me a two hundred-dollar check. Lord knows I need the money. The twenty years I worked for Mrs. Avery I always did what she told me, never stole anything, never disrespected her—and, believe me, some days she almost drove me crazy.
“When Obama got elected something snapped in Mrs. Avery. I’d be working and she’d come get me, want me to listen to a multi-millionaire got rich sitting on his butt dissing welfare recipients complain about a paltry increase in the minimum wage, ignoring the fact if he’d went deaf before he got rich, he’d be praising Obamacare.
“‘Mrs. Avery, I don’t have time for this! I got work to do.’
“‘Listen, Shirley, you’ll learn something.’
“‘The man is out of touch, thinks black folks still saying ‘right on, right on’ and ‘jive honky.’
“‘Y’all don’t say that anymore?’
“‘Not since the seventies. Bo Snerdley should update him.’
“‘Shirley, you know he’s trying to take our future and country away from us.’
“‘Is he? He must’ve relapsed on OxyContin.’
“‘Not him! Your president.’
“‘How is he trying to do all that?’
“She never answered that one.
“‘Shirley, look what he’s done to your people.’
“‘My people, Mrs. Avery? The Harris tribe? What did he do to my people?’
“‘Nothing! He’s done nothing for your people! African American unemployment has skyrocketed a whopping two percent since he’s been in office.’
“Now she and I both know if President Obama so much as declared Popsicle Day for African Americans, she and a buncha other like-minded people would take to the streets, pulling their hair out and stomping their feet in one mass hysterical hissy conniption. The back-in-the-day bunch will be in the mix, too, crying it ain’t enough and looking for a shitty-assed mule. I know the history, but I feel sorry for anyone who desires to own a mule.
“Last year Mrs. Avery’s husband died and she found out her youngest boy had blown all their millions on cocaine and leveraged funds. Now she lives in a ratty duplex on Mallory Street and walks seven miles each day back and forth to work at McDonalds. Poor, just like me and a lotta other folks. Each week faced with tough decisions. Rent or fill the prescription? Food or the light bill? Not enough money to do both. Kid’s clothes or the gas bill?
“You either got it or you don’t. If you ain’t got it, you need to figure a way to get it or learn to live without it. Doesn’t matter what you used to have, what you used to do, what you gonna do when you get it again. All anyone cares about is do you have it now. Everywhere you go—bank, hospital, courthouse, wherever—the second someone sees you don’t have it now, you might as well sit down because you fixin’ to wait a long time. ‘You ain’t got no money, what’s your rush?’ The more money involved, the longer the wait.
“I know Mrs. Avery is having a helluva hard time adjusting to now and she can’t afford to send me two hundred dollars. She can barely feed herself. She thinks I’m in far worse shape than she. So each check I put in another envelope and mail it back to her with a note. Thank You, Mrs. Avery, But There Are Some Things I Cannot Do. This Is One Of Them.
“Ruth Ann, someone could have a put a gun to my head and I would not have done what you did to me. Never! Hungry, dead broke, living on the street, there are some things you should never do.”
“Shirley, you’re not going to beat me down?”
“You didn’t hear a damn thing I said, did you? Not one word. It doesn’t matter. You’re no longer my sister. You’re bad news. Somebody ask you who I am, tell em you don’t know. Tell em I’m an acquaintance, someone you used to know. Don’t tell em I’m your sister because you’re no longer related to me in any way.”
Ruth Ann laid the gun on the couch and stood up. “I do love you, Shirley.”
“Don’t you dare! You hear me? Don’t ever say that shit to me again!”
Ruth Ann swallowed. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Do I look like I’m bullshitting? I’m not! Sit down and let me finish what I have to say. Where’s Shane?”
“Out hunting. Shirley, how long we supposed to act like we’re not sisters?”
“Forever! Shut up and listen! I want a life, a real life, not this nightmare I’m currently living. I aim to have it, one way or the other. I also want Eric. He’s a dog, a dirty dog, but he’s my dog. I picked him and I’m keeping him. I’m not giving him up to you or no one else. We’re still getting married. No, before you ask, you’re not welcome at the wedding. Don’t even send a card. I’ve thought about this long and hard, and there’s no reason to change my plans because my former sister doesn’t give a fuck about nobody but herself.
“I want a computer for my son. A car for Mrs. Avery so she can at least drive to work. I want a home of my own. You know how I’m going to get all this? The money Daddy left for us, is how. Once I get it, Eric, Paul and me, we’re getting the hell out of Dawson. You feel me, Ruth Ann?”
Ruth Ann nodded.
“Good. Then you’ll have no problem helping me out, will you?”
“Uh, what do you want me to do?”
“Help me catch whoever killed Daddy.”
Ruth Ann eyed Shirley toe to head, from her well-worn sandals to her extra-large gray sweat suit to her hair, a tangled mess. She forced herself to look in Shirley’s steely brown eyes. “How do you propose to do that?”
Shirley smiled at her.
“Why do I have a bad feeling about this? An hour ago a humongous tick with an hourglass on its back bit me. Its head is still in my neck. I may not have long to live.”
“My sympathies lay with the tick.”
“What exactly do you want me to do?”
“Nothing, really. Stay here for a couple days.”
“That’s it? I guess I can do that.”
“When the killer comes here, I’ll nab him or her.”
Ruth Ann cleared her throat. “What makes you think the killer will come here?”
Shirley smiled again. “I sent out invitations.”
“Invitations? Shirley, honey, don’t take this the wrong way. Killers rarely answer invitations. They view those the same as going to the police and confessing.”
“I’m not your honey. I told everyone Daddy left all his money to you. My friend Darlene designed a fake will on her computer and I showed it to em as proof.”
“So everybody thinks I’m getting all the money?”
“Yes.”
“You think whoever killed Daddy will now come looking for me?”
“Amazing! Morally deficient with a degree of intelligence.”
“If the killer takes the bait and comes up here to kill me, you’re going to nab him with an empty pellet gun?”
“Yes.”
“Shirley, why didn’t you just get a real gun and shoot me? Same results.”
“I couldn’t get hold of a real gun. I was lucky to get this one. No one knows it’s a pellet gun. It’ll work.”
“I know! What if the killer comes with a real gun, then what? Huh? What you gonna do? The killer firing real bullets while you’re shooting blanks. No, you can’t even do that. You don’t have any pellets.”
“No doubt in my mind you’re the scariest-assed woman ever snapped on a bra. Listen, this killer is cunning, organized, methodical. He’s not coming in with guns blazing.”
“Organized? Methodical? You finally got cable, didn’t you? Shirley, I really think we should let Sheriff Bledsoe handle the investigation.”
“Sheriff Bledsoe? Ha! He couldn’t find smut on the Internet. I’ll be too old to enjoy the money by the time he figures out who did it.”
“Maybe so, but I don’t think it’s a good idea. I’ll do anything but that. When Shane comes back I’m outta here.”
Shirley raised her chin and looked down at Ruth Ann. “You owe me and you are going to pay me! One way or the other.”
“Couldn’t you take a check?” Beseechingly: “I don’t like this, Shirley! I really don’t. Somebody could get hurt. Me!”