The Ridge: The Whisper of the Leaves - Chap. 16

Normally, Lampkin would have called the County Sheriff and turned whatever there was at Wittsburg over to him. But he knew that Sheriff Tallmadge was out of town and there were no deputies headquartered in the town, other than himself. A law from years before stipulated that the Wynne Police Chief was also automatically a Cross County Deputy Sheriff.

It took only 20 minutes for Lampkin to traverse the distance between where the wreck had happened outside of Wynne and "downtown" Wittsburg. was only about 20 minutes away. When he pulled up in front of Simmons Grocery, Giggs Simmons came out and dispensed with any formalities.

“Homer,” Simmons put his hands on the open windowsill. “I can’t tell ya much cause I ain’t seen what happened. But Mag Johnson rode down here on her mule and told me to get hold of ya. Said that Sal Prichard’s boy had been shot up there by his still and that somehow a fire had started and burned almost everything up.”

“Were is it.”

Lampkin listened as Simmons gave directions where he could find the scene then he left. Some 30 minutes later, he was still looking for the crime scene. No wonder the government could never find anything as well hidden as this place is, he thought when he finally found the burned-out truck.

Lampkin would have missed the area altogether if there hadn’t been some smoldering embers from the fire still glowing. A hefty, woman of fifty or so that he assumed to be Mag Johnson was at the edge of the burned-out area sitting on an ancient grey mule with a shotgun cradled in front of her ample bosom. He left his lights on to help illuminate the scene.

“Mz Johnson?” Lampkin said as he walked toward the woman. “I’m Homer Lampkin from Wyn......”

“I know ya,” The woman said. “Ya gave my boy a ticket a couple a years ago. Said he’s uh speedin’. Not likely. Ol’ heap he’s got can’t do morn’ twenty. And that’s goin down the Ridge.”

“Mz Johnson,” Lampkin said when she took a breath. “I need to get to work here. Can ya tell me anything you know about what happened here?”

“Yea, sure,” She swung a leg over the head of the mule and slid off to the ground. Then after propping the gun against a beech tree, she pulled a can of Prince Albert from the back pocket of her jeans and cigarette papers from her shirt pocket.

“Boy’s body’s right over there,” She pointed with the tobacco can then opened it and began filling one of the papers. “Ain’t pretty. Don’t smell good neither”

Lampkin walked to where she had pointed and quickly agreed with her assessment. He could tell that the black pile on the ground had once been human, but that was about all. The odor was bad, but not as bad as it could have been. The corn mash that had caused the blaze to be so severe helped to mask the smell of the burned flesh. Regardless, Lampkin held his handkerchief to his nose and mouth.

The body was in an odd position, looking as if he had been kneeling when he was struck and ended up on his back, his legs curled under him. Even through the blackened, blistered, and broken skin he could see the gaping hole in the boy’s throat.

Everything around the body was burned, the ground, the nearby trees to the upper branches, the still itself and what must have been the boy’s pickup truck. Every jug of shine, including those in the back of the pickup had exploded from the heat.

He looked around outside the burned out area, but the trees blocked out the full moon so he could make out very little. He looked around a couple of minutes longer and then turned back to Mag who was leaning up against the same tree as her shot gun.

“Where do you live Mz Johnson?” Lampkin asked.

“Back up the road bout’ a mile’n a half. You passed my place to get here.”

“You must not have any neighbors or they’d’ve heard or seen what happened her like you did.”

“Ain’t another house for over three miles. Like it that way.” She spit out a stray piece of tobacco. “Closest neighbors are this boy’s parents over at the county line.”

“They don’t know what happened here?”

“Dunno.” she ground out the cigarette with her boot heel. “Don’t guess so since they ain’t here. I didn’t go tell ‘em, if that’s what you’re askin’. That’s a preacher’s job——or yours.”

“How did you know what happened here? Did ya hear it or see the fire or what?”

“Heard the shots. Three of ‘em. Then heard a blast like ‘bout half a stick uh dynamite. Knew the Prichard boy had his still here so I got Sadie out and we came up here. Found it ‘bout like this. Cept it was still burnin then.”

“Did ya come across anyone else. Did ya see any cars or trucks before or after the fire.”

“Just his,” She was rolling another cigarette. “Heard him go by about, oh....seven o’clock or so. Bout thirty or forty-five minutes ‘fore I heard the shots.”

“So you knew the still was up here?”

“Course I did?”

“And you do know that moonshinin’s illegal?”

“Body’s gotta make a livin’. Mr Roosevelt ani’t doin’ much to help us around here, you know that as well as me.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Lampkin took his notepad out to make some notes. “Shinnin’ is still against the law. And I hope it doesn’t turn out that you were helpin’ that boy!”

“Don’t you worry about ole Mag havin’ anything to do with this boy,” She cocked her head at the officer’s implication. “I didn’t care for the kid, nothin’ but a smart-aleck. Only reason I came to see about ‘im was cause of his folks. Fine people. Hadn’t been for them I’d a let the buzzards’n worms take care of ‘im.”

“Well, for your sake, I hope you’re right, cause you can bet that the state police will be all over this place.” Lampkin said this as he started walking toward his car. “I’m gonna go back to town and deputize a couple of men so they can come up here and secure the scene till the state boys get here. Thanks for the help.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Oh, by the way,” Lampkin turned back toward Mag. “Did you know that there was another murder at the edge of Wynne just a couple of hours ago?”

“Ya’ don’t say,” Mag said, raising her eyebrows. “Who was it.”

“Name was Lawrence. Someone said it was Cubby Lawrence’s boy. Ya know him or the boy.”

“Know both of ‘em. Both just alike. Trash. His other two whelps, them girls, are just as bad as them. Only good thing about that family was Martha, Cubby’s wife, and she’s dead now. The cancer got her. Fought hard, but it got her anyway. What happened to the boy?”

“Someone shot him comin’ around Beebo’s curve. Looks like he was haulin’ a load of shine to Memphis.”

“Figures.”

“Whatdaya mean?”

“Seen ‘em up here with Prichard before. Probably partners. And probably why they both got it. Mighta crossed the wrong people one too many times or horned in on the wrong territory. Who knows?”

“Well,” Lampkin said as he turned and started toward his car again. “Hopefully, we’ll know in a couple of days after the State Police’ve had a chance to go over everything. I may be seein’ ya again. G’night.”

Mag nodded in answer then watched as Lampkin drove off. When she couldn’t hear the car any longer, she turned around and stared into the woods beyond the burned-out truck.

“C’mon out, he’s gone,” She called into the darkness.

After a moment Marshall emerged from the trees and came into the light of Mag’s lantern. He was carrying Thomas’ deer rifle and leading a saddled buckskin horse. They were followed by Buck who thought he was on another “coon” hunt.

“Thanks, Aunt Mag,” Marshall said.

Mag just nodded at Marshall, suddenly too choked up to say anything. But they had talked plenty between the shooting and Lampkin’s arrival.

Even though she was Edna’s oldest sister, she only got to see Marshall on special occasions since she was the “black sheep” of the family. She had never gotten married, but she had a son. And she usually had one or more men around her to help with anything that she might need.......anything. Now, though, she was between men.

She did not know what Marshall had planned until her nephew had ridden up to her house to tell her what was going on. Lawrence was already dead by that time. His retelling of the first shooting didn’t surprise her.

“Ya know ya gonna have to leave, doncha?” Mag said, the lump in her throat finally easing.

“Yes’m,” Marshall nodded. “Gona hop a freight as soon as I can get ta the tracks.”

“Hope ya can come back one of these days.”

“Me too,” Marshall’s voice cracked slightly. “But I guess I’ll just play that by ear. I’ll try to write ya every now and then. How about you. Ya gonna be all right?”

“Like I told that cop,” She cocked her head in the same way as before, “Don’t you worry about your Aunt Mag. I will be just fine. They’ll probably never even figure out that I’m your Momma’s sister.”

She grinned at her nephew and Marshall grinned with her. Then she reached out, pulled him to her, wrapping him in a bear hug of affection.

“Marshall,” She held to him tightly, tears filling her eyes. “Take care of yourself, boy. Sis done lost one son. We’d have to bury her if she lost you, too.”

“I’ll be all right, Aunt Mag,” Tears were in Marshall’s eyes as well.

“How ya sittin’ for money. Got some stashed away if ya need it. Not much, but it’ll get ya a little ways.”

“I’m okay. I had some saved and I got it when I went back to the house.”

They were both silent for a long moment, then Marshall spoke.

“Well, I better get goin. Like he said, state boys’ll be all over the place tomorrow.” With that, he gave his aunt a kiss on the cheek, mounted his horse and headed back into the woods. In a few seconds, he, horse and dog were swallowed by the darkness.

“God bless ya, boy.” Mag said quietly as she wiped a stray tear. “God bless ya!”

To Be Continued........