He stared down at the ground avoiding her eyes. It took about twenty minutes to walk back to town. The sun was painting the few clouds in the sky pastel purples, pinks, and light grays. The tracks led them straight into town.
Lori noted Main Street was almost deserted. There was an air of exhaustion about the place, a ragged look of worn hopelessness. A few buildings were still occupied, but most were vacant. In the center of town, near the one stop light decorating the whole street, was a bright red neon sign. On and off. On and off. Its gaudy light blinked persistently. Rosie's Café was definitely open.
Two or three battered pickups were parked out front as well as a couple of older-model sedans. Lori headed straight for the diner. A man sat on the curb near the door, guitar in hand. As Cash and Lori neared, he started playing and singing. Lori stopped to listen.
Not so long ago, in my hometown,
Mill hands worked around the clock.
Seven days a week. Three shifts. Non-stop.
Now all the looms are silent.
The mill's a lonely spot.
And the ghost of yesterday is left
To roam the parking lot.
Children of the mill grew up in fact'ry towns
Echoes of their laughter are now just hollow sounds.
Children of the mill, Daddy's got no job.
Sick with worry, Mama cries.
Times are surely hard.
In my hometown, guess it's no surprise,
Fear of what tomorrow holds
Burns in tired eyes.
Empty shops line Main Street.
Faded 'For Sale' signs.
Dirty window panes stare out
Like cloudy eyes of men gone blind.
Once my hometown stood
Beside Life's golden stream.
Now, it's merely vacant lots
Of still-born hopes and dreams.
Children of the mill grew up in fact'ry towns
Echoes of their laughter are now just hollow sounds.
Children of the mill, Daddy's got no job.
Sick with worry. Mama cries.
Times are surely hard.
Mama cries. Daddy dies inside.
Times are surely hard.
Lori threw a dollar into the battered guitar case, The man nodded his thanks and began strumming another tune.
"I liked the song," she said. "But wasn't this whole place dependent on a furniture factory. His lyrics are about cotton mills, I think."
"You're right," said Cash. "But Bobby Dean's not about to bring down the wrath of God on his head if he can help it. He doesn't want to get on the wrong side of the Ashlon's and insinuate that all the misery around here is because of them closing down the furniture plant. So, Bobby Dean sings his song about a dying cotton mill town. Everybody knows what he's doing, but there's never been a cotton mill within forty miles of here."
YOU ARE READING
In Hell: When Love Kills A Small Town Mystery
Mystery / ThrillerWhen love kills, it leaves more questions than answers. Cash Matstock's mother was murdered when he was a small child. When his drunken uncle is found beaten to death in the home they share, suspicion falls on Cash. Maybe murder really does run in...
