Part 6 (1/2)
David was finis.h.i.+ng the lawn when the police cruiser parked in front of the house.
Although it was a quarter past four and the day had cooled by a few degrees, it was still the most intense humidity he had ever experienced. He'd worn an old Nike T-s.h.i.+rt and ragged denim shorts, and in short time, sweat had glued the clothes against his skin. He'd drunk two bottles of water, too, and seemed to sweat it through his pores so quickly his skin might have only been a sieve.
While David worked in the yard, King watched him from the front window. The dog wanted to come outside, but it was too hot for the furry canine to spend much time outdoors. He'd take King for a walk later.
David switched off the mower. The blades thumped into silence.
A stout officer stepped out of the vehicle. David crossed the yard to meet him, severed blades of gra.s.s clinging to his boots.
”Good afternoon,” David said. ”How can I help you?”
The officer inclined his head to indicate Franklin Bennett's home across the street.
”Doc Bennett told me you'd moved here. Figured I'd stop by to welcome you to the town. My name's Van Jackson. I'm the chief of police.” He extended his hand.
The chief had a strong grip. ”Pleasure to meet you, Chief. I'm David Hunter, but you probably know that already. Everyone else here does”
”News travels quickly in a small town, buddy.” Jackson hooked his thumbs through the loops of his belt. ”With you being the boy of the only celebrity this town's ever produced, well, I thought that deserved a personal visit.”
”I appreciate that,” David said. ”As you can see, I'm getting things in order here. The gra.s.s hadn't been cut in a few weeks”
”You moving here for good, or you just here to put things in order?”
”I might be here for a year or so. I visited the town a long time ago, but I've never lived in the country. I grew up in Atlanta.”
”Is that so? Nice city. Been there myself to see the King center and catch some Braves games,” Jackson said. ”What kind of work you do?”
”I design Web sites. I'm self-employed, so I'll be working out of the house”
”Nothing like being your own boss” Jackson nodded with approval. ”I hope you like our town, and stay a while. We ain't got enough young folks here. Lot of 'em split soon as they graduate from high school.”
”How long have you lived here?”
”Me? All my life, buddy. My pa was chief before me, too. I ain't never wanted to live anywhere else.”
”Did you know my father?”
Jackson leaned against the side of the cruiser. ”Nah, not that well. We chatted here and there, but Hunter, he liked his privacy, and I respected that. He had enough folks hounding him as it was”
”Like who?”
”Oh, tourists, mainly. They'd drive past the house here or try to catch him when he was walking. Nosy folks like that”
”I've seen a couple of cars cruise past the house since I've been here,” David said.
”I ain't surprised. Kind of unfortunate way Hunter went, that's bound to draw more snoops than usual. You be sure to let me know if anybody causes you a problem.”
”I sure will,” he said. ”Is there much crime here?”
Jackson shrugged. ”Incidents here and there. Vandalism, shoplifting, breaking up fights at the pool hall. And drugs. Drugs more than anything. Ain't just a big city problem anymore, they're everywhere” He sighed. His face, which already appeared perpetually sad, looked even more melancholy.
”Franklin says this town has a colorful history. Such as the haunted house-”
”You mean the Mason place?” Jackson's eyebrows arched. ”Someone moved in there”
”Are you serious? That old, run-down house on the hill?”
Jackson folded his arms. ”Sure did. Couldn't believe it myself. I ain't stopped by to chat with the new resident, yet. I might do that”
”I wonder who moved in there? And why? I mean, if it really is haunted.”
”Can't speculate,” Jackson said, and David had the distinct impression that Jackson could speculate all right, but he wasn't going to share his ideas with a guy he'd only met five minutes ago, no matter whose son he was.
”Doc Bennett's quite a man,” Jackson said. ”But he's got some tales in that big brain of his. Folks love to swap stories, but that doesn't mean they're all true”
”I'll keep that in mind.”
”Nice meeting you, Hunter. You take care, and holler if you need anything.”
”Thanks for stopping by,” David said, but Jackson had already hustled into his car. He roared away down the road.
David pushed the lawn mower to the tool shed, behind the house. After he stored the machine inside, he stood in the middle of the backyard. Insects buzzed around him, reveling in the freshly cut gra.s.s. He waved them away.
From where he stood, he had a glimpse of Jubilee. Suns.h.i.+ne glimmered on a window.
Who would move into a place like that? The house was a wreck, and it was creepy as h.e.l.l.
Was it truly haunted, or had Franklin only been sharing a fabled piece of town lore?
He was not sure he wanted to know the answers to his questions.
Chapter 4.
ahlil Jackson was scheduled to work at Mac's Meat and Foods that afternoon. The store was located in a brick building, next door to a Laundromat, on the corner of Davis and Taylor. When he was younger, Jahlil and his friends used to love stopping by Mac's on the way home from school, to buy ice cream and candy. Now, the sight of the store's big red-and-white sign made him want to punch someone.
”You're late again!” Old Mac barked, the minute Jahlil walked inside. Old Mac stood behind the gleaming meat counter, wearing a crisp white ap.r.o.n. He was a short, bald, white man, in his sixties, with faded tattoos on his wiry forearms. He raised his watch and tapped it. ”What time are you supposed to be here to work?”
”Four, I guess,” Jahlil said.
”Four? It's four-twenty, little Jackson!”
”I got held up by some things,” Jahlil said. This guy was a trip. What difference did it make if he was twenty minutes late? There was nothing going on there that demanded Jahlil's attention. He was only a stock boy, he didn't own the stupid store.
Old Mac grunted. ”Mop the aisles. There are some boxes in the back that need to be broken down and disposed of too. And pick up the lot. You forgot to do that yesterday, little Jackson”
”Fine. And my name's Jahlil.” He stormed away into the back room.