Watch Your Head

“Shit,” Detective Ashburn cursed at the road. The headlights were being interrupted by the rain, but her focus was on the dimly lit homes that skated by. The houses came to a stop in front of a strongly lit porch where Ashburn stops the car, she forces the vehicle into park and releases a sigh of relief. Ashburn walks to the stoop of the craggy house as she knocks on the door.

“Mrs. Deluca! Mrs. Deluca, please open up!” “It’s about your son! Mrs. Deluca!” The drenched detective declared. She turned on her heel to look out into the rain for any shape or figure that might be looming in the haze.

The door creaked open and revealed the middle-aged woman with a knitted sweater, the bottom of her sleeve put over her face to block out the incoming rain.

“Mrs. Deluca, I found something I wanted to ask you about, regarding your son.” The head above the sleeve shook her head timidly and opened the door for the dripping detective. A warm light radiated off of the family photos onto the hallway that led to a small kitchen. The faucet mimicked the weather outside by keeping a steady tempo drip, the linoleum was stained, and the refrigerator motor clanked with age. Mrs. Deluca motions to the table and chairs centered in the decrepit kitchen.

“Please sit down, you poor thing. I’ll get you a towel, oh and watch your head, that damn light hangs so low.” The worried widow crouches down to a drawer next to the sink to bring out a washcloth, as Ashburn bumps her head on the light, she rubs her head as the matron turns around.

“I’m sorry, hon, this is all I got.”

“It’s okay, thank you so much,” Ashburn reassured as she wipes off her face. Mrs. Deluca readjusts her sweater as she questions.

“You said that you had something regarding my Michael’s…death?” Tears begin to well up in her glacier blue eyes as she worked up the courage to ask her question.

“Yes, Mrs. Deluca, I wanted to ask you about Michael’s job. Did you know that he had two jobs?” The widow’s face hardened ever so slightly in disappointed surprise.

“We know that he had a job working down at the mill, but Michael also seemed to work at the Trough, the bar off of I-37.” Deluca’s face looked up at the wall behind Ashburn in the hallway leading to the kitchen.

“The Trough? That doesn’t sound like my Michael.”

“It was confirmed by an Eileen Bradley,” Deluca’s face lost its timidness as she heard the woman’s name.

“Eileen Bradley, she’s an interesting character. Never could stay away from my boy. I suspect she’s half-way to Vegas by now. Got some new beau she’s conned into giving her the world.” The two women remain silent as the rain is the only barrier between them and an awkward silence.

“Well, actually she’s missing. Witnesses saw her at the bar this afternoon before she went outside for her smoke break, and she never came back inside.”

“So the tramp skipped work? Typical.”

“Her co-workers said that she had a necklace with her named engraved in it as well as a cigarette lighter, and a blue scarf. Two out of the three were recovered at the scene, but we can’t seem to locate her.” Mrs. Deluca shakes her head in pity.

“She never could get her shit together.” She looks up at Detective Ashburn examining her.

“Is there a question in here? You said you had one about my son.”

“Both of them knew each other, worked together, and both are either missing or dead. Could you know of anybody who could have possibly had it in for them? Was Michael getting strange phone calls? Threatening letters? Anything that you might have thought of after our initial interview? Anything at all?”

“Not my Michael. It would have to be someone associated with that--.”

“You really don’t have much love for her, do ya?” Mrs. Deluca looked into Ashburn’s eyes with a furious intensity.

“How could anyone love a whore?” Ashburn looks down to see Deluca’s hands writhing in anger, her eyes are black like a snake’s eyes.

“Our family is very different; with Michael, you might say that you got two for the price of one.”

“Your son had schizophrenia but was on medication up until the time of his death. Was anyone else in your family diagnosed?” The venomous woman stared at the detective; she shifted her body weight onto her right side.

“No no, of course not! Our family was a happy one!” Mrs. Deluca starts to put the dishes on the drying rack up, a porcelain plate glistens in the dying ember lamp above the two women.

“I’m so sorry, ma’am. I didn’t mean to pry. I’ll be on my way, but first do you have a light? I could use a smoke.” Ashburn stands up and reaches into her pockets for a cigarette while Mrs. Deluca reaches into the drawers and pulls out a silver cigarette lighter. Ashburn leans forward with a cigarette as Mrs. Deluca flicks the lighter on, the initials “E.B.” shimmered in front of both of the women as they looked at each other. They both pull away slowly as Ashburn sits down and Deluca goes back into the corner. Ashburn eyes the porcelain plate in front of her as Deluca eyes the knife on the drying rack.

“Well, I guess I have to be going now,” the detective says into the porcelain plate. Deluca eyes the knife as she replies.

“Watch your head,” she spits.