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.
