Strange Awakening by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview
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Chapter 16
When we got to Mason’s sickly yellow house at about 8AM, a few things had changed. The heavy rains had brought down a number of sizable tree branches and there was already another car in the driveway, a Mercedes of recent vintage with a metallic green hue. We parked behind it and got out. Joe Mason came out the house door on the driveway side trailed by a big guy carrying a rifle.
Sergeant Mobley motioned to us to get down. He pulled his revolver, squatted down and yelled; “Drop it, now.” Mason and his friend looked surprised and did nothing. Sergeant Mobley yelled; “Drop it, goddammit.” The big guy apparently now realized what was going on and dropped it. They walked a few steps away from the rifle and Sergeant Mobley wiped his brow and said; “Joe, for Christ sake, don’t you teach your friends any country manners?”
Joe apologized; “I’m sorry. This is my new hunting tenant, Rocco Giambrone. He’s from Hudson County. You know what I mean?”
Everyone introduced themselves to each other, casually shaking hands.
Joe smirked and said; “What law did I break today, Sergeant?”
Sgt. Mobley said; “None, probably. I’m kind of humoring your two neighbors here.”
Joe looked at Butch and me and said; “More nefarious goings on at the Mason property?”
Sgt. Mobley answered for us; “You got it. Mind if I have a look around?”
Joe extended his arms affably and said; “Of course not.”
Then directing his speech to Butch and me; “I want you boys to get a good look at Rocco here. He’s going to be here for some time and I want you all to get along.”
Rocco said; “You guys live around here, right?”
I pointed at my house and said; “Right next door.”
Butch added; “About a mile away.”
Rocco appeared friendly when he said; “One of these days, you guys have to pick up some wine and bring it over here. I can cook up something and you can show me local points of interest.”
I said; “I’d like that.”
Butch chimed in; “Me, too.”
Sgt. Mobley directed his commentary to Joe and said;
“Excuse us a minute. Your neighbors want to show me something.”
Mobley, Butch and I walked to where we had said the body was.
We were soon out of earshot of Joe and Rocco, who stayed near the house.
Sgt. Mobley questioned; “Well?”
I said; “It was right around here.”
Butch was somewhat relieved and said; “Like I said, maybe I didn’t hit him. He may have played dead until we left.”
I offered another possibility; “Somebody could have moved it. This morning’s rain was hard enough to wash away any blood.”
Sgt. Mobley sternly said; “When you report a dead body there really should be one.”
Butch explained; “When we explained what happened, we told you that we got out of here quickly because we didn’t know if he was dead, or sitting there waiting to fire again. We didn’t know if there was anyone else around either.”
Sgt. Mobley nodded and said; “It was pitch black, in the rain, wasn’t it?”
Butch simply said; “Yes.”
Sgt. Mobley was getting the impression that nothing happened and said; “While we’re here, let’s get this settled once and for all. Find me any evidence that you can.”
We walked around the general area, including near the stream, looking for anything; signs on the ground of a body being dragged, blood, shell casings, or any kind of activity.
Nobody could find a thing that looked unusual. After about five minutes Sergeant Mobley said; “Satisfied.”
I said; “I guess so. But, you know the rain washes everything clean.”
Sgt. Mobley said; “I suppose it makes bodies disintegrate, too.”
Butch was glad to say; “Well, at least I’m not a murderer.”
He then shot me a look and added; “At least not yet.”
I asked; “Can you do one more thing for me, Sergeant Mobley?”
Sgt. Mobley replied; “Maybe. What is it?”
I said; “Can you look in the house for any sign of the kind of garbage I told you about?”
Sgt. Mobley shook his head and responded; “I don’t have a warrant and I don’t have any cause to get one.”
As a last ditch appeal, I said; “Can you at least look in the window where we saw the photos?”
Sgt. Mobley sighed and said; “Okay, I think I can manage that, but after I do, you guys promise me you’re going to stop the wild stories, right?”
I said; “It’s a deal.”
Butch followed suit; “Fine.”
We walked back toward the house and I noticed that the screen Butch had jimmied out was back in its place. We arrived and Joe was waiting with Rocco.
Sgt. Mobley said; “Joe, sorry for any inconvenience. My friends here made some kind of mistake in the dark. It won’t happen again.”
Joe waved his hand and said; “No inconvenience. You’re just doing your job and we were here doing nothing anyway. Now, Ed and Butch, I want you and Rocco to be good friends. When you’re in an isolated area and something bad happens, you can sure use help from a buddy.”
Butch and I smiled and nodded at him, shaking his hand and again shook hands with Rocco. At the same time I couldn’t help but think that Joe’s last statement could also be interpreted as a warning. We were walking back to the car when Sgt. Mobley reached for, then dropped his keys next to the appropriate window. When he squatted down to pick them up, he put his left hand to his back saying; “I think today is a three painkiller day.”
Butch and I also squatted down, next to him, ostensibly helping him get back up. The three of us got a full view into the room, now lit not only by artificial light but also getting the benefit of somewhat of a morning sun. No one could see any photos. Paintings of country scenes hung on the wall. The only things on the tables, chairs and chests were lamps, books and clocks. Butch and I “helped” Sergeant Mobley and we went back
to the car, all of us waving goodbye to Joe and Rocco, who returned the favor.
The first part of the drive back was in silence. I couldn’t help thinking that with a brain injury any type of delusion was possible. But it seemed so real. Butch was having similar thoughts, for different reasons. After a few minutes, Sergeant Mobley said; “Satisfied?”
We both mumbled a quiet; “Yes.”
“And no police report?”
We both shook our heads saying; “No.”
When we got back to the police headquarters’ parking lot Sergeant Mobley, smiled at us and said; “Behave yourselves for a while, okay?”
I said; “Thanks, okay.” Butch repeated the same thing and we went back to the purple Mustang. Sergeant Mobley yelled out;
“And Ed, do yourself a favor and get another shirt.”
We all laughed and I said; “You have my word. I will never wear this again.”
Butch drove me back to my house the shorter way and passed the yellow house, which now had no cars or people visiting. I got out when he parked in my driveway and we both mumbled something like; “See ya’ soon.” I think we both were wondering about what happened at the house, if anything; what happened to us, if we could trust our own senses, etc., etc., etc. He
continued on home and I went into mine, immediately lying down on the couch, not knowing what to think or do.
Somewhere else in New Jersey a red Toyota hatchback was cruising down a busy highway. The two female occupants were having an edgy conversation very important to both of them.
The driver, the lady in black informed her companion; “We can never go back to Mason’s.”
The 13 year old actress nervously said; “Well, where are we going then?”
L.I.B. said; “Nowhere today. We have to find another place and make arrangements.”
The actress was more un-nerved; “Where am I going to get $1,500.”
L.I.B. calmly said; “You’ll just have to wait.”
The actress continued in her role; “My meth habit doesn’t feel like waiting for anything.”
L.I.B. looked at the actress and pointedly said; “You know, that’s the entire problem. If you could just cut out that.....”
The actress cut her off; “I’d be bored to death.”
L.I.B. implored; “You’re a very smart girl. You can do a lot of other interesting things with your life.”
The actress got defiant; “Like what? Learn home economics, tidy up house, pretend I like working in an office and cater to some overbearing bastard boss and husband!”
L.I.B. sighed and sheepishly said; “Probably something like that. But, you could get other kinds of jobs, too.”
The actress laughed; “Yeah, sure. I could feign interest in my doo dah job all day, shop and pick up the kids on the way home, cook, cater to the slob and watch television. On weekends I could run my errands and clean up the place. Get the fuck out of here!”
L.I.B. made a weak response; “Who told you to expect perfection?”
The feisty little actress was on a roll. She stuck out her tongue and said; “The spirit of the methamphetamine monster. Do you know how many sick old farts I’m going to have to be nice to in order to get $1,500?”
The lady in black made no response, instead, tried to make her brain purge some recently acquired images.