Joe Lansdale - The Bottoms

“So no one has any ideas who could have done it?”

“Nobody over there gives a damn, May Lynn. No one. The coloreds don’t have any high feelings for her, and the white law enforcement let me know real quick I was out of my jurisdiction.”

“If it’s out of your jurisdiction, you’ll have to leave it alone.”

“Taking her to Pearl Creek was out of my jurisdiction, but where she was found isn’t out of my jurisdiction. Law over there figures some hobo ridin’ the rails had his fun with her, dumped her in a river, and caught the next train out. They’re probably right. But if that’s so, who bound her to the tree?”

“It could have been someone else, couldn’t it?”

“I suppose, but it worries me mightily to think that there’s that much cruelty out there in the world. I’d rather it just be one fella, not two, and if I had my real druthers, I’d rather it not be any. But as they say, wish in one hand and shit in the other and see which fills up first.”

“Jacob!” Mama said in what sounded like a not entirely offended tone. And then she laughed a little. “Such language.” Then: “What do they care if you chase this? Why are they so against it?”

“You know that much as I do,” Daddy said.

“ ’Cause she’s colored? But what would it matter to them if you wanted to chase it?”

“What if a white man done it?”

“Then he ought to pay.”

“Of course. But not everyone sees it that way. They figure a colored woman who was a prostitute… well, she had it coming. If it was a colored did it, one less colored woman for all they care, so why bother and upset the old apple cart. If it was a white man, then they want it left alone. They figure a white man can have his fun with a colored, no matter what kind of fun it is, and he ought not have to pay for it no kind of way.”

“When you dropped Harry off. Where did you go?”

“Into town to see Cal Fields.”

When he said that, I felt knee high to a crippled June bug. My climbing on the icehouse had probably got me sent home early, and Daddy had been discontent enough with me to drive me all the way home and take the ride into town by himself.

“He’s the newspaperman, isn’t he?” Mama asked. She was talking about our weekly newspaper, the Marvel Creek Guardian. “The older man with the younger wife,” she continued, “the hot patootie?”

“Yeah,” Daddy said. “He’s a good fella. His young wife ran off with a drummer, by the way. That doesn’t bother Cal any. He’s got a new girlfriend. But what he was tellin’ me was interestin’. He said this is the third murder in the area in eighteen months. He didn’t write about any of ’em in the paper, primarily because they’re messy, but also because they’ve all been colored killings, and his audience don’t care about colored killings.”

“How does he know about them?”

“He gets along pretty well with the colored communities here about. He said he’s got a nose for news, even if the newspaper he owns and writes isn’t one that’s worth all the news. He said all the murders have been of prostitutes. One happened in Pearl Creek. Her body was found stuffed in a big drainpipe down near the river by the sawmill. Her legs had been broken and pulled up and tied to her head and her body had been cut on. Like the one I seen today. Turned out nobody really knew this woman, though. She had sort of drifted in and got a job in one of the cribs over there.”

“Cribs?”

“That’s where the prostitutes work, dear. It’s a kind of house

… You know?”

“Oh. I’m certainly gettin’ an education. I didn’t know you knew all this.”

“I find out a lot doin’ my little constablin’. Anyway, she was found and buried by some Christians wanted her to have a burial, and after a time no one thought much about it. It’s the same old story. A colored murder isn’t something the colored say much about, ’cept amongst themselves. They take care of their own when they can, ’cause the white law sure ain’t gonna do much. In this case, wasn’t no one really knew the woman and wasn’t anyone suspected. Same thing was thought then that’s thought about Jelda May Sykes. It was figured a tramp done her in, caught the train out.”

“You said there were three.”

“Other was found in the river. Thought to be a drown victim at first. Cal said rumor was she was cut on, but he can’t say for sure if it’s true. Might not be any kind of connection.”

“When did these murders happen?”

“Best I can tell, the first one was killed January of last year. The other one, I don’t know. Don’t even know if it did happen. People could have been talking about something happened years ago and Cal caught wind of it. Or whoever told him might have misheard it. Or been yarn’n him. It’s hard to tell when it comes to the colored community.”

“Did Mr. Fields know about Jelda May Sykes?”

“He did.”

They were silent for a while. Through our thin walls I could hear the crickets outside, and somewhere in the bottoms, the sound of a big bullfrog bleating.

“Jelda May’s body,” Mama asked. “What happened to it? Who took it?”

“No one. Honey, I paid a little down payment to have her buried in the colored cemetery over there. I know we don’t have the money, but-”

“Shush. That’s all right. You did good.”

“I told the preacher over there I’d give him a bit more when I got it.”

“That’s good, Jacob. That’s real good.”

“By the way, the constable over there. You know who it is?”

“No.”

“Red Woodrow.”

“Oh. I didn’t know that. Did you know that?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“You didn’t mention it.”

“Didn’t see any reason to. I never thought about it much until today when I seen him. I didn’t want to mention it now-”

“Oh, don’t be silly.”

“ – but I felt I ought to. I don’t like to hide behind something bothers me. He told me to tell you hello.”

“He did.”

“I didn’t plan to tell you. I don’t know why I did.”

“Honey, you can quit being silly. You know there wasn’t nothing to any of that.”

Their tone had changed. Had become almost formal. I wasn’t sure what was different, but something was, and it had to do with Red Woodrow.

“He wanted me to stay out of things.”

“It is his jurisdiction, isn’t it?”

“Like I said, murder took place here. The only reason they have the body is I needed help from Doc Tinn.”

“Red can be… well, testy.”

“Wasn’t the word I had in mind for him,” Daddy said.

“Jacob, just forget him.”

“I want to.”

“His shirtsleeves?” Mama asked.

“He still keeps them rolled down.”

They grew silent. I turned on my back and looked at the ceiling. When I closed my eyes I saw Jelda May Sykes again, ruined and swollen, fixed to that tree with barbed wire. And then she was gone, just faded away, leaving only her dark eyes, and then the dark eyes turned bright and I saw white teeth in the dark face of the horned Goat Man.

Suddenly, I was standing in shadow in the middle of the trail looking at him. He started coming toward me.

I ran, and I could hear him running right behind me. I was breathing hard, and he was breathing even harder, but not like he was tired. It was more the fast-paced breathing of someone planning something they would enjoy.

The shadows from the trees grabbed at me and tried to hold me, but I broke loose. Just as the Goat Man was gaining on me, about to put his hand on my shoulder, I reached the Preacher’s Road ahead of him, and when I looked over my shoulder, he was gone. I was sitting up in bed, wide awake, staring at the wall.