SAFELY BURIED Chapter 37: You Was Real Nice to Me

She swallowed hard, nodding. She fell to pieces again when she said, “I miss him already. I miss him so much it hurts.”

Carl gave her a few more words of comfort, patted her on the hands, and straightened up. In the hall he said, “Do you have anything to do, Phil?”

“I’m doing it.”

“You go home and get some sleep. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

I told him where I had left Paula and Edna Mae. “They were not involved in the killings,” I said.

“You’re sure about that, are you?”

“Absolutely.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

I drove home the long way, through Blind Horse Hollow. I slowed down as I passed Glenn Neidig’s cabin. Only the porch light was on, and three hounds sat there like sentinels watching me. I figured Paula and Edna Mae were trapped inside.

At the Grapevines’ house all the lights were burning. No doubt they had learned Judge Brandon and Ralph were dead. One of the other Brandons had probably called Jackie. I was tempted to stop, but I looked and smelled like an ogre and I didn’t want to act like one.

On top of the knobs it hit me that the whole thing was over. In the weeks ahead I’d have a slew of stories to write, but my life would be normal again. I felt a twinge of regret. More than a twinge.

About a half hour after I got back to my apartment, Glenn called. “I thought you’d wanta know the state police jest arrested your lady friends,” he said.

“I thought that would happen,” I said. “How’d it go?”

“Real quick. The police handcuffed ’em and took ’em outta here before they knew what hit ’em. They looked real scared, especially the younger one.”

“Did they say where they were taking them?” I asked.

“The county jail, I reckon, but no, they didn’t tell me nothin’.”

“Thanks, Glenn. I appreciate your letting me know.”

“So what the hay happened tonight?”

I was too tired to talk, but I owed him something, so I gave him a quickie version of my story that would appear in the morning paper.

“That’s too bad about Jack Brandon,” he said. “He was a good man, but I reckon even a good man can do some bad things once in a while. But I wish he hadn’t’ve took his own life. I always thought suicide was the coward’s way out.” It had slipped my mind what a talker Glenn was until he rattled on: “But that son of his, Frank, I never knew anybody that had much good to say about him. Ralph, the banker, he was all right, just a little standoffish, snooty like. The Judge was a man of the people, but not his two boys. Frank was here a few days ago. He was wantin’ to know if anythin’ was goin’ on across the road. I told him I seen the property owners—Walter Boofey and his wife—a-goin’ or  a-comin’ a coupla times. Maybe I shouldn’t’ve told him. They might still be alive if I’d kept my mouth shut.”

He could be right, I thought. I listened to him yak on a few more minutes before I said I needed to get some sleep. Then I poured myself a half inch of Scotch and went to bed.

I slept till 6:30, when I woke up with a headache. I made a cup of coffee, my first in days, and then I took a much-much-much-needed shower and drove to work in the Boofeys’ Taurus. Since they had drowned my car in quicksand somewhere, I felt justified in using theirs. Around a dozen people were lined up at the newspaper box in front of the Gleaner building. The paper was selling like hotcakes. Edward would be thrilled. He’d probably raise ad rates.

I went in the back way and picked up a copy of the front section that was lying on the floor. A two-deck banner headline in 60-point type read:

  Judge Jack 'Red' Brandon Kills Self after Toxic
  Chemicals, Child's Skeleton Found in Caves

A 24-point subhead in the middle four columns said:

  Ralph Brandon, Two Boofeys Die in Shootout Over
  Bribery Scheme; Suspects in Garth Murders Held

The story was pretty much as I had dictated it off the top of my head last night on the phone. It was not my best piece of writing, but all the major facts were there. The front section of the paper had been reprinted. A pressman who was still cleaning ink rollers told me the night shift also had to pull out Section B and the ad inserts from the original front section and then recollate everything.

“I guess they hate my guts,” I said.

He opened one side of his mouth and nodded slowly.

At 8:00 I went to the jail. Sheriff Eggemann was still there. Tired and irritable, he told me Frank Brandon and Doug Brandon had been arrested and charged with the murders of Wayne and Cheryl Garth. The shootout with the Boofeys was still under investigation, with more charges pending. I asked if he had notified federal and state agencies about the leaking PCBs, and he testily replied that it was only eight o’clock and he doubted if he could raise any of them this early. I asked when he thought the entrance to the cave at the landfill would be cleared so the child’s skeleton could be examined, but all he said was, “Give me a break, Phil,” and stood up.

“What about Paula and Edna Mae Boofey?” I said.

“What about them?”

“Where are they?”

“In a nice, cozy cell. I put them up for the night at taxpayer expense.”

“That was big of you, Carl. May I see them?”

“No. They’re in the women’s wing.”

“When then?” I said.

“When they’re ready to go.”

“So they haven’t been charged with anything?”

“Didn’t you tell me they were innocent?”

“I didn’t know I had so much influence.”

He finally cracked a grin. “You don’t.”

I did not tell him Paula had told Walter Boofey about Garth’s discovery of the PCBs, which led to the blackmail scheme. Why complicate things?

Carl asked a female deputy to check on Paula and Edna Mae. A few minutes later the three of them came down the hall toward the front desk. They had washed up, so their faces looked fresh, but their clothes were wrinkled and soiled, Paula’s especially. I expected her to be mad at me, but she didn’t mouth off.

“Good morning, Phil,” Edna Mae said. “They say we can leave.”

“I know,” I said.

She whispered, “I’ll be glad to get out of here.”

Paula said, “You and me both.”

“So what are we waiting for?” I said.

I led the way out front to the parking lot. I offered to buy them breakfast, but Edna Mae said, “We already ate.”

I told them about Judge Brandon’s suicide and the two arrests. Then I described what I had gone through after taking refuge in the cave.

“We thought you was dead for sure,” Paula said.

“Maybe I am,” I said. “It all seems like a dream.”

Edna Mae pinched my arm and laughed. “Nope. You’re alive.”

I walked them to the Taurus and handed Edna Mae the keys.

“I was wondering how we were going to get home,” she said.

“You probably won’t be able to get your clothes and things out of the Garths’ place until the police are finished with their investigation,” I said.

Paula said, “I don’t ever want to see that place again.”

“Do you need a ride?” Edna Mae asked me.

I shook my head. “I’m okay.”

“Then we’re outta here.” She gave me a big hug.

Paula was staring at me. I saw what looked like the beginning of a tear in her eye. Suddenly she stepped forward and put her arms around me. “You was real nice to me,” she said in my ear. “Thanks.”

I gave her a little squeeze and patted her on the back. She hopped in the car, and I watched them drive away. Edna Mae tooted the horn at me from the highway.

Later that day I called Jackie Grapevine and Jodie to express my sympathy on the deaths of Judge Brandon and his son Ralph.

“I’m sorry about your father and brother,” I said to Jackie.

“Thank you,” she replied curtly, as if I didn’t really mean it, and turned the phone over to Jodie.

“Hi,” I said. “I’m very sorry about your grandfather and your uncle. How are you? You doing okay?”

She did not answer right away, and I thought she was going to hang up, but then she said, “I can’t talk about it right now. I’m too upset.”

“I understand.”

There was another long pause. Then she said, “Our family’s been destroyed.” Her voice cracked on the last word.

“Would you like me to come out there, Jodie?”

“No. No. I need to be alone for a while.” Her breath fluttered through the line. “Goodbye, Phil.”

I did not like the sound of that goodbye.

The events in Blind Horse Hollow provided news fodder for months. An army of investigators from the Environmental Protection Agency descended on the county. The drums of PCBs were removed from the cave, and studies got underway. Ground and water samples were collected throughout the cave system, and test wells were drilled all around the knobs to determine PCB levels. People, especially those living near the knobs, were outraged, not only with the Brandons but also with the government. Those who had wells feared their water had been poisoned. Environmental groups wanted the government to excavate the caves and remove all traces of PCBs. Opponents considered this an impossible task and cited the costs involved. Stories of hearings filled our news hole, and angry letters covered the editorial pages.

During the time before his trial, while out of jail on a five-million-dollar property bond, Frank Brandon tried to take Meridian Waste Managers, Inc., into bankruptcy, but the government blocked the move.

At the trial of Frank and Doug Brandon, Paula testified that Walter and Caroline Boofey had tried to extort a million dollars from Frank and Ralph Brandon, the owners of the former county landfill. She said the Boofeys also blamed the Brandons for killing Wayne and Cheryl Garth. “The blackmail was mostly Caroline’s doing,” Paula said. “She talked Uncle Walter into it. They said if they got the million dollars, they wouldn’t tell the police about the chemicals in the cave and who done the murders.”

According to Paula, the Brandons agreed to pay but stalled for time. “Uncle Walt wanted the money in cash, and they said it would take a while for them to get that much cash together,” she said. “But they was lying. They found out we was staying at the house, and then they tried to kill us just like they killed Wayne and Cheryl.”

“Why did you stay in the house?” the prosecutor asked.

“It was stupid. We thought we was safe down in the cave,” Paula said. “And we thought they would never expect us to be there. But somebody prob’ly seen us and told them.”

The police investigation revealed that the Garths had been shot with the same gun that had killed Walter Boofey. Though Doug Brandon had killed him, the weapon belonged to Frank Brandon. It tied him to the murder of the Garths.

Forensic evidence also showed that the skeleton I had found in the cave was that of Barry Wilson. Chuck Martin admitted helping the Brandons cover up the boy’s death at the hands of Scott. At his trial Martin broke down in tears and said it was the worst mistake of his life. “I did it for Judge Brandon,” he said. “Judge Brandon loved his grandson. You can’t imagine how he loved that poor kid. He didn’t want Scott to be taken away. He felt it was his duty to take care of him. What I did I did for him.”

Martin also admitted to transporting children from the home to people he described as mentors and big brothers, but he insisted it was always at Judge Brandon’s orders. Grace DeLong backed him up. Of course, it served her own interest to do so.

The strategy of blaming the Judge worked for Martin. The jury was not swayed by Garry Fromm’s story of the Professor. Martin’s lawyer persuaded them that the Judge had in fact ordered him to take the boy there, and so the jury did not hold Martin responsible for the abuse Garry suffered. Even more important, Garry’s story could not be corroborated, because the Professor could not be found.

As for Paula’s claim that Martin had sodomized her when she was fifteen, there was no proof of that crime either. As with Garry Fromm, it would have been her word against the ex-sheriff’s. Her connection to Walter and Caroline Boofey was another strike against her. As a result, the prosecuting attorney did not subpoena her to testify against Martin.

Most people thought Paula and her mother were as deeply involved in the blackmail attempt as Walter and Caroline were. I did not tell the police and the prosecutor everything I had heard while I was in the cavern. “Walter and Caroline were the blackmailers,” I said. “Paula and Edna Mae were against it. I heard Paula say it would get them all killed. And I heard her mother say she and Paula wanted to leave. Walter Boofey would not let them go.” This was true, as far as it went, though based on what I had heard, Edna Mae and Paula had gone along with the blackmail attempt at the start.

I did not have the heart to implicate them. After all, they backed out of the blackmail scheme in the end, and I told myself that if it weren’t for Paula, the truth probably would never have come out. What’s more, she had saved my life twice. No charges were brought against them.

Jodie would not go out with me again until three weeks after Judge Brandon’s funeral. We went to Zwanzig’z in Columbus for pizza. She was moody and quiet, and it was a struggle for her to hold up her end of the conversation.

Afterward, as we drove through the knobs on the way back to Blind Horse Hollow, she asked me to stop the car somewhere. I pulled into an overlook where there was a bench and a picnic table, and we got out and sat on the bench. As we gazed down at the farms and the silver ribbon that was White River, she said, “I  have something to tell you. I got my job back. I’m going back to New York.”

My heart sank. “When?” I said.
 
“Tomorrow. I’m all packed.”

“I don’t want you to go.”

She stood up and walked to the edge of the hill. “I can’t live here anymore. Everything’s changed.”

“Sure. I know. But give it a little more time.”

“I’ve tried. I can’t. I see how people stare at me. It’s like ‘Brandon’ has become a dirty word.”

“Don’t go, Jodie,” I said.

She looked at me sadly. “I’m sorry, Phil. I know how you feel, but I wouldn’t be good for you. I’m all messed up.”

“You’ll get through it.”

She shook her head. “Someday maybe, but not if I stay here.” She began to cry. “I think you’d better take me home.”

Later that night, lying in bed alone, I tried to tell myself it was just another meaningless episode in a meaningless life. One thing leads to another in a series of random events, and nothing matters. But if that’s true, I said to myself, why does it hurt so much?