Joe Lansdale - A Fine Dark Line

I sat down in the spare chair, said, “Richard’s not coming back, I guess.”

“Hard to say. But I doubt it.”

“He took my Roy Rogers boots with him.”

“That’s not good.”

“He left a note that said thanks. I guess that was for everything.”

“You think he owes you?”

“I don’t know.”

“I figure a boy like that, he’s startin’ out with enough debts. Ain’t no need to give him one more.”

“Yeah. But it was my Roy Rogers boots.”

“That’s too bad. But, you know, in a year, you won’t care. And in twenty years, them boots will be somethin’ you think about all the time.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You will. It’s about thinkin’ you grown up, then knowin’ you ain’t.”

“You said bad people don’t always look bad. But Chapman and Bubba Joe. They sure looked like monsters.”

“Sometimes I’m wrong. A lot of the time.”

“I still don’t know why Chapman killed Margret or Jewel Ellen.”

“Sure you do. They was different, and he wanted them. Or he wanted that Margret anyway. That’s the one he killed. I can bet you that. He laid for Margret, jumped her, had his way, and killed her.”

“And Jewel?”

“Now, if you done told me all Chapman told you correct-like, he didn’t say he killed her, now did he? Took credit for them others and was proud of it, but he didn’t say he killed her.”

“He seemed confused when I mentioned it.”

“That’s what I’m sayin’. Now, Chapman could have done it. Won’t never know. And that’s the way it is in life. There’s gonna be all manner of stuff you never can find out the truth on and can only guess.”

“So you still think one of the Stilwinds killed Jewel?”

“I do. I think it was a coincidence. Not all planned and clicked together like I said things will do, and they do sometimes. But not this time, Stan. And let me point out, Stilwind don’t look like no monster. Chapman was crazy, Bubba Joe was pissed-on stupid. Stilwind. He’s the real monster.”

“One of the Stilwinds could have killed her on the same night to make it look like the killer did it? It could be like that.”

Buster grinned at me. “I don’t think so. I don’t think one could have known about the other quick enough for both crimes to come down in an hour or so. I think Chapman’s hate, Stilwind’s need for Jewel Ellen to keep her mouth shut, just come together in the same night.”

“Coincidence?”

“That’s right.”

“Mystery books I’ve been reading say there’s no such thing as coincidence.”

“They’re wrong. You live long enough, you’ll find life is so full of coincidence it’ll make you crazy.”

“Well, it’s not very satisfactory.”

Buster grinned. “Now you’re learnin’. That’s life. Ain’t always satisfactory, but sometimes the part that is, is pretty damn good. Thing to remember is, enjoy life, ’cause in the end, dirt and flesh is pretty much the same thing. You understand that?”

“I think so.”

“Good.”

———

AS SCHOOL WENT ON, and I got involved with making new friends and trying not to get beat up by bullies, I saw less of Buster. At nights I took to doing homework or watching television, and it got so most of the time we just nodded at one another.

Then one cool night in October, he didn’t show. I had to run the projector. Though it was late, when I finished, I talked Daddy into allowing Drew and Callie to drive me over to Buster’s.

Driving down into the Section, Drew said, “They need some lights down here.”

“I think they’d be glad to have them,” Callie said, “but I don’t believe the city gives them out down here.”

Drew pulled up in front of Buster’s house. It was dark. I got out and went on the porch and knocked. He didn’t answer. I hesitated about going in. He hadn’t been drinking of late, but it occurred to me he might have fallen off the wagon.

I finally bit the bullet and tried the knob. It was locked.

I went to the window on the porch, pushed at it, and it came up with a squeak. I got down close to the crack I had made and called his name, but he didn’t answer.

I pushed the window up all the way and climbed in. Buster was lying on the bed, the covers up to his chin, his hands holding them as if he had just pulled them up.

I knew as soon as I saw him, he was dead.

25

DADDY HAD THE BODY put in the colored funeral home, and he paid for it to be embalmed. We tried to find the relatives Buster told me about, but no luck.

They buried him in the colored graveyard near where Bubba Joe had tried to kill me. They put him down without a stone between two other heaps of dirt without stones—recent burials.

I took the books the way he wanted. While I was gathering them, Callie, who was helping me, came across a note.

It read:

“Stan, you are my true friend. I give you my books, and my records. You’re gonna like them. Enjoy your life. Buster.”

“He knew he was dying,” I said to Callie.

“I suppose he did,” she said.

———

I DIDN’T GO BACK to the grave until some years later, and by then I couldn’t find it. Grass had grown over most everything and there were no longer mounds and what stones that had been there were gone or broken.

After Buster’s death, lots of things changed. There was a rumble in the air about civil rights, and there was much confusion and gnashing of teeth, but as the years went on, there were changes.

Colored didn’t have to sit in the balcony at the downtown theater anymore. James Stilwind sold out and moved off.

Mrs. Stilwind was found one morning in the pool out back of the old Stilwind house. She had fallen in and had been there for a few days before she was missed, or rather cared about. What I remember most about the story was a boy at school saying “Crows picked her eyes.”

Mr. Stilwind sued the old folks home, won, put them out of business, owned the place. He tore it down and built a subdivision there. He made lots of money and no one ever accused him of anything, nor his son, James.

Not long after the subdivision went up, Old Man Stilwind was found shot in his hotel room. No one knew who did it. Rumors were a young lady went up to his room to see him. More rumor said lots of young ladies did that. This one had a gun and a grudge. She shot him through the heart, then through the head four times, just to make sure he didn’t rise from the dead.

She got out of there without so much as anyone realizing Stilwind was dead or even hearing the shots. All she left were some gloves, and all that could be determined from those was that the label inside said they were made in London, England.

I smiled over that one.

Until now, I’ve never told anyone but my wife who killed Bubba Joe. All these years after, now and then I have a bad dream about him. See him chasing me and Callie and Richard. Richard is lost behind me, and Callie’s ponytail is flying in my face, Bubba Joe is closing, and the train is charging up the tracks.

Sometimes, in my dreams, he catches me.

Daddy bought the theater James sold. I thought that was ironic. He liked to joke he was Dewmont’s picture show magnate, indoors and out.

Mama began selling World Book Encyclopedia s door-to-door, and she liked it. Rosy ran the drive-in, and I ran the projection booth. Rosy got her room upstairs. Along with an air conditioner. Air conditioners were put in all over the house. One for each bedroom, one for the living room that cooled it and the kitchen.

Drew and Callie dated seriously all through high school, but when Callie went off to a teachers college, they couldn’t hold it together. Callie became an English teacher. Got married, got divorced, met up with Drew some years later. He was divorced too. They got married, moved back to Dewmont where she teaches school and Drew runs his father’s hardware store, as if he really needs to. Drew inherited money. Lots of it. Callie dresses nice and no longer wears a ponytail. Men still look and sigh when she walks by.