| General Fiction posted November 3, 2022 | Chapters: |
...22 23 -24- 25... 
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Cops come to the pond.
A chapter in the book The Miranda Chronicles
Am I a Suspect? (Miranda)
by GWHARGIS
***So far, Miranda Jessup Buckley has been jilted, fired, and left to take care of her ex-lover's child. While waiting for her neighbor, Aaron and Waylon to dive and explore two cars on the bottom of the pond, Miranda stumbles on the body of the town pervert. He's dead. Now the police show up and they seem very interested in how she came to find him. ***
No matter what I look at, all I see is the vacant eyes of Ed Preston. I feel like I can handle myself pretty well in most situations. But this, no, this is not something I can understand.
I know he was murdered. No one would come to Haynes Pond if they were just out for a walk. This place is a cesspool. And, how did the couch wind up on top of him? I want answers but I can't bear to look at him again.
"You want another water?" Waylon asks. His voice is soft and gentle.
Shaking my head, I look over at him. "Thanks, but I'm good."
"What'd he look like?"
I know the morbid curiosity is bound to come out but I can't deal with it now. "I don't really want to talk about it. Maybe later."
"Okay," he says.
"What's Aaron doing?"
"He's praying over him."
"A little late," I mumble.
Waylon's lips curl up a little. "Are you gonna throw up again?"
"No. I'm good now."
Waylon looks behind us. "Cops are here."
It's not just the Sherrif's car that pulls down the dirt road. The county coroner and an ambulance pull in as well.
I lean back against the seat and close my eyes. I wish I was somewhere else. Anywhere else.
"Hey, Miranda, Aaron is talking to the cop and he's pointing over at us. Oh, crap, he's heading over here. He looks kinda grumpy."
I jump as the sound of knuckles rapping on the truck window shatters the silence.
"Morning, Mitch," I force myself to smile at him.
"God damn. Why am I not surprised? You are just a magnet for bad stuff. How'd you find the body?"
"Turned the couch over."
"What made you turn it over?"
"Did you not smell it? I was sitting on that washer. Flies kept landing on me and couldn't figure out where the flies were coming from. Then I saw there was a shit ton of them buzzing around the couch."
Mitch takes his hat off and wipes a bead of sweat off his brow with his forearm. He's studying my face. "You would have done the same thing."
"Miranda, I'm a cop. I'm trained for this kind of thing. You, you are not. Where were your cohorts?"
"They were in the water."
He looks incredulous. "In that water? What in the hell were they doing? Trying to catch dysentery?"
Waylon looks up sharply. "We were diving to look for," he stops when I shake my head slightly.
"Diving for what?" Mitch asks.
"They are practicing diving."
Mitch squints. "Why would you dive in a nasty pond when the Atlantic Ocean is five mile away? "
"Mitch, did you come over to the truck to be a judgmental prick or you gonna ask me some questions?"
Mitch clocks an eyebrow. "I'm gonna let that slide since you have apparently been traumatized. First, did you touch the body?"
"Hell no. I couldn't hardly look at it."
He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a small beat-up notebook. He flips it open and touches his pen to his tongue.
"When was the last time you saw Ed Preston ... alive?"
"When I escorted him out of the store."
"You sure about that?"
I blink. "Are you implying something?"
"I'm asking you a question. You held a pair of scissors to his, uh, genitals. I hardly think escort is a proper description of your last encounter."
"Well, as I recall, I asked you what you would do if he ever paid a call on your daughter where she worked. Remember what you said? Your body cam wouldn't be working that day."
"I'm not accusing you of anything. I merely asked you a question. If you're gonna be difficult, we can go to the station. So, I'm gonna ask you one more time. When was the last time you saw Ed Preston alive?"
"When I threatened to cut his talleywacker off. "
Mitch winces and looks away. "Okay."
"Anything else?"
"Can you explain why your friend is preaching a sermon over Ed and he's crying?"
"He's very spiritual. If I had to guess, he's hoping that Ed will be welcomed into heaven."
Mitch grunts but doesn't say anything.
He writes a few more things in the notebook then looks over at me. "I'm sorry you had to see what you saw. I've seen my share of victims and I'll never get used to it." He reaches back into his coat pocket and pulled out his business card. "If you need to talk, you can call me."
He hands it over and places it into my hand. "Miranda, do yourself a favor and don't leave town."
He steps back from the truck and starts to walk back to where the overgrowth curtains the body of Ed Preston.
"Wait a second! Am I a suspect?"
Mitch levels his gaze as he turns around. "When it comes to who might have wanted to hurt Ed, just about everyone in Patterson County is a suspect."
To be continued.
***So far, Miranda Jessup Buckley has been jilted, fired, and left to take care of her ex-lover's child. While waiting for her neighbor, Aaron and Waylon to dive and explore two cars on the bottom of the pond, Miranda stumbles on the body of the town pervert. He's dead. Now the police show up and they seem very interested in how she came to find him. ***
No matter what I look at, all I see is the vacant eyes of Ed Preston. I feel like I can handle myself pretty well in most situations. But this, no, this is not something I can understand.
I know he was murdered. No one would come to Haynes Pond if they were just out for a walk. This place is a cesspool. And, how did the couch wind up on top of him? I want answers but I can't bear to look at him again.
"You want another water?" Waylon asks. His voice is soft and gentle.
Shaking my head, I look over at him. "Thanks, but I'm good."
"What'd he look like?"
I know the morbid curiosity is bound to come out but I can't deal with it now. "I don't really want to talk about it. Maybe later."
"Okay," he says.
"What's Aaron doing?"
"He's praying over him."
"A little late," I mumble.
Waylon's lips curl up a little. "Are you gonna throw up again?"
"No. I'm good now."
Waylon looks behind us. "Cops are here."
It's not just the Sherrif's car that pulls down the dirt road. The county coroner and an ambulance pull in as well.
I lean back against the seat and close my eyes. I wish I was somewhere else. Anywhere else.
"Hey, Miranda, Aaron is talking to the cop and he's pointing over at us. Oh, crap, he's heading over here. He looks kinda grumpy."
I jump as the sound of knuckles rapping on the truck window shatters the silence.
"Morning, Mitch," I force myself to smile at him.
"God damn. Why am I not surprised? You are just a magnet for bad stuff. How'd you find the body?"
"Turned the couch over."
"What made you turn it over?"
"Did you not smell it? I was sitting on that washer. Flies kept landing on me and couldn't figure out where the flies were coming from. Then I saw there was a shit ton of them buzzing around the couch."
Mitch takes his hat off and wipes a bead of sweat off his brow with his forearm. He's studying my face. "You would have done the same thing."
"Miranda, I'm a cop. I'm trained for this kind of thing. You, you are not. Where were your cohorts?"
"They were in the water."
He looks incredulous. "In that water? What in the hell were they doing? Trying to catch dysentery?"
Waylon looks up sharply. "We were diving to look for," he stops when I shake my head slightly.
"Diving for what?" Mitch asks.
"They are practicing diving."
Mitch squints. "Why would you dive in a nasty pond when the Atlantic Ocean is five mile away? "
"Mitch, did you come over to the truck to be a judgmental prick or you gonna ask me some questions?"
Mitch clocks an eyebrow. "I'm gonna let that slide since you have apparently been traumatized. First, did you touch the body?"
"Hell no. I couldn't hardly look at it."
He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a small beat-up notebook. He flips it open and touches his pen to his tongue.
"When was the last time you saw Ed Preston ... alive?"
"When I escorted him out of the store."
"You sure about that?"
I blink. "Are you implying something?"
"I'm asking you a question. You held a pair of scissors to his, uh, genitals. I hardly think escort is a proper description of your last encounter."
"Well, as I recall, I asked you what you would do if he ever paid a call on your daughter where she worked. Remember what you said? Your body cam wouldn't be working that day."
"I'm not accusing you of anything. I merely asked you a question. If you're gonna be difficult, we can go to the station. So, I'm gonna ask you one more time. When was the last time you saw Ed Preston alive?"
"When I threatened to cut his talleywacker off. "
Mitch winces and looks away. "Okay."
"Anything else?"
"Can you explain why your friend is preaching a sermon over Ed and he's crying?"
"He's very spiritual. If I had to guess, he's hoping that Ed will be welcomed into heaven."
Mitch grunts but doesn't say anything.
He writes a few more things in the notebook then looks over at me. "I'm sorry you had to see what you saw. I've seen my share of victims and I'll never get used to it." He reaches back into his coat pocket and pulled out his business card. "If you need to talk, you can call me."
He hands it over and places it into my hand. "Miranda, do yourself a favor and don't leave town."
He steps back from the truck and starts to walk back to where the overgrowth curtains the body of Ed Preston.
"Wait a second! Am I a suspect?"
Mitch levels his gaze as he turns around. "When it comes to who might have wanted to hurt Ed, just about everyone in Patterson County is a suspect."
To be continued.
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