On Emma's Bluff, Sara Elizabeth Rice, edited by davebccanada [buy e reader TXT] 📗

and supplies. Butcher paper had been rolled out in twenty foot lengths on the floor of the gymnasium. Teenagers with tempera paint worked on turning the plain white paper into colorful banners. Heavy orange extension chords were being weaved in and about as the need for electricity grew with each new booth. Masking tape was being applied to the floor in a large circle to accommodate the cakewalk. A spirit of anticipation marked the clamor of voices. Outside the day was crisp and the smell of hay filled the air.

Liz Wilson had volunteered to help Emma's class with the fortune teller's booth. She and Trisha Penn had decorated several cheap black sheets with stars and moons. A crystal ball had been borrowed from the Yazoo Little Theatre. Rebecca Garth, the science and home economics teacher had been drafted to serve as the fortune-teller. The pretty young teacher would be transformed by a grey scraggly wig, black teeth wax and latex warts. An old tent had been transformed into the Chamber of Fortune.

Emma had only dropped by the school briefly to check on the progress and had left quickly with Cindy in the jeep. The brisk October air felt wonderful blowing in from the open windows.

Before leaving the town they made a stop at Partlow's, the closest thing to a convenience store in The Bluff.   Just the screen door with its Better Bread push plate covered the entrance. The huge fan in the back was on, pulling the cool air into the store. Emma and Cindy pushed back the metal sliding tops of the chest cooler searching for diet colas.

As they drove out of town with cold drinks and gum balls they were full of excitement about the coming evening.

Bill asked around the gym for Emma. Liz Wilson heard him mentioning Emma's name and cornered him. For a full twenty minutes she held him captive, firing questions and breaking in with her own verbose thoughts on the joy of being a teenager. All Bill got from his trouble was to learn that Emma had been by and gone an hour before.   "Oh well, her loss." he thought to himself.

Joy had left town earlier that day with her brother. They were headed to Jackson to meet up with her parents. Bill had dropped by just as they were about to leave and this seemed to please her to no end; that is until he told her about having a date to the carnival.

"How could you?" she asked trying to keep her voice down but stern.

"Baby cakes, it's not my fault you aren't going to be here for the carnival," he told her with child like sincerity. "Surely you are not going to begrudge me having someone to sit with on the hay ride?"

"Bill!"

"Look you know you are the only girl for me," he started, " and one day I am going to marry you and we are going to always be together." He sounded so believable. "So why are you all in a huff over a little innocent date." Joy continued to glare at him. “Look," he went on, "I won't even kiss her. I won't even hold her hand. Hell, I won't even touch her."

"And who is this ‘her’?" Joy demanded.

"Ah, Emma Lewis." he said slowly.

"Oh, I should have known it!" Joy was up to full speed anger at this.

"You know the only reason I pick her don't you?"   Bill regained his composure."

"And why might that be?"

"Well just look at her sometime. She really is plain, kinda pathetic even, I guess," he switched to his soulful tone, " I guess I just feel sorry for her." He had done it. This worked on Joy like a charm.

"Oh Bill," Joy cooed. "I should have known as much. Forgive me."

"Plus, I just never figured she would be anyone you could be jealous of. I mean what is she compared to you?"

"Oh my Billy boy." And she kissed him.

 

_____________________________________________

 

Delmar, Eddy's oldest boy had shown up asking for work a couple of weeks after his parents’ death. Roy was more than happy to give the boy a job.   Roy still missed Eddy; couldn't really believe he would never see his old hired hand again.

That Saturday while all the town was working on the big carnival, Roy and Delmar were out on the river setting up new trot lines. Delmar even had a few good fishing spots in back water sloughs that he showed Roy. When they came to the trotline under the trestle Delmar started to dip his paddle into the muddy water and Roy stopped him.

"Leave it be," Roy barked in a tone rougher than his normal laid back drawl.

"Leave it be?"   Delmar asked like the statement didn't really make sense.

"That's what I said. Leave it be." For a moment Roy was at a loss for what to say next. Finally he went on, "Ain’t catching no fish there."

"Ain’t catching no fish?"

"That's what I said."

"But Mr. Roy this here’s a riva, and fishing all over the place." Delmar didn't quite understand.

"Nope, don't want no trot line here."

"Well then sir, you want I should pull up the line that's there and get the hooks off it?" Delmar was willing to help however he could.

"No!" Roy said sternly. "I just want you to crank up that motor and get us out of here."

Delmar decided it was best to do as told and not ask any more questions. He reached for the cord and gave it a yank. Nothing happened. There wasn't even a sputter. Delmar turned and stared at the boat motor and tried again. Nothing. Roy turned around in the boat and said, "Come on boy, I got to get home now." Delmar yanked the cord even harder this time, but it had no affect on the motor.

"It's been running fine all day." Delmar said.

"It ain’t even a year old. I ain’t never had a lick of trouble with it." Roy informed him. "Try it again."

This time as Delmar yanked the chord there was a sound, but it wasn't from the out board motor. "Plunk!, plunk!" Rocks were falling from the trestle into the river. Delmar looked up, but they were too close under the trestle for him to make out if anyone was on the trestle. "Anybody up there?" Delmar hollered.

At first there was no response and then a small voice called down, "Sir?"

"Just wanted to know if anyone was up there," answered Delmar. Roy just remained leaning back his hand shading his eyes from the sun trying to make out if he could see anyone on the bridge. "You almost scared me," Delmar said, relieved.

"No sir, didn't mean to scare nobody." And then, "What you all doing down there?"

"Can't get our boat to crank." Delmar explained.

" That's too bad," the voice replied.

Delmar pulled at the chord once again but this time not only did the motor not stir the cord broke off in his hand. Roy remained curiously silent.

"You got fish on your line, too," the voice informed him.

"What you mean by that?" Delmar was confused. The line could not be seen beneath the murky water at all.

"I hear em talking." Delmar turned and looked at Roy. He was becoming a little uneasy.

" Oh get out of here." Delmar said loosing his patience.

"It's you that want out of here." The voice was sounding more mocking now. "Why don't you take one of them fishes down there in the bottom of your boat?"

" What for?" Delmar demanded. Whoever was on the bridge was either having a joke on Delmar or just plain crazy.

"You won't your boat to start or not?"

"What's this got to do with..."

"I said you want your boat to start or are you gonna stay there until Mr. Roy gets so scared he go crazy?"

" What you talking about?" Delmar asked, but when he turned and took a good look at Roy he had to admit the man looked frightened to death.

"Take the fish."

"I don't wanna..."

"Hush now, what you got to lose, take the fish." Delmar leaned down and picked up a medium sized catfish. "Whisper in it's ear let us go and through it in the river."

"This is pure foolishness."

"Do what she says," Roy finally spoke. Delmar looked the catfish squarely on trying to figure what were supposed to be the ears. Finally he whispered into a gill. He tossed the fish from the boat like it was something too nasty to touch. The fish sank like a stone. Delmar waited and then the motor leaped to life.

" There I told you it would crank if you kept trying." Roy said sounding a little more like his old self.

"But Mr. Roy I didn't yank the cord. The cord done broke off down in the motor."

"I don't care, just get me home" Roy turned frontward, dismissing anything else Delmar might have to say. Delmar was so taken back for a minute he had all but forgotten about the stranger on the trestle. The motor propelled them back up the river towards home. Then Delmar heard from behind him the voice.

"Ain’t I even getting a thank you kindly."

Delmar turned eager to see just who was the person who had been playing him for such a fool, but there was not a soul on the trestle.

 

 

Chapter 14

Red Humphries was delighted to see a clean-shaven, alert Lacey Caine at his office Saturday morning. He had feared that the previous evening had been a waste of time. Red asked Lacey if he had told anyone else about the arrangement they had.

"Naw, but sure it wouldn't be no harm in me at least telling Sam," Lacey replied.

"No one, absolutely no one," Red insisted.

"But surely you know Sam ain’t got no truck with the killer. He might be able to help out too."

"No." There was no mistaking the sternness in Red's voice. This man's not only a lunatic but a fool too, Red thought. "No, the fewer who know about our little agreement the better. Besides one of the main reasons I chose you is because you are a loner. I thought I could trust you to keep this under your hat. Plus you know this countryside and all the dirt roads and trails." Flattery seemed to be doing the trick on Lacey. "And we just don't want to call any attention to you. I would hate to see something bad happen to you." Red stopped to see if this had registered. He cleared his throat and asked, "Any questions?"

Lacey shook his head no. He was pleased that the sheriff had asked him, Lacey Caine to help. "You can count on me sheriff. Mums the word."

Emma appraised her appearance in front of the long chiffon robe mirror. Her hair had been teased and sprayed into a wild crown of blonde fuzz. The effect was actually more punk than witch, but she like it. Aunt Liz had heavily applied make up on Emma's face. Her eyes were circled in black, blue and gold glitter. "I look like a French whore," she joked after seeing herself. Liz had done an excellent job with the black dress. It had long tufted sleeves and a close fitting bodice. The waist dipped low in front into a point. The skirt was full and had been cut into tattered