In Hell: When Love Kills A Small Town Mystery

Chapter 24

"Lori," Cash said, "I think it's time to visit Guppie Jack."

"Guppie Jack?"

"Yeah," Cash said, cranking the truck. "He's an old drinking buddy of my uncle's. If anybody knows anything, it's gonna be him."

Guppie Jack's small framed house stood up ahead in a clearing between two drooping oak trees that gave the little place shade during the long, hot summers. A rusting mailbox stood guard at the edge of Guppie's short dirt drive. The grass around the house was sparse like the white hair on the aged man's head. Patches of red clay shown between the green sprigs of grass like specks of blood. One or two old hounds raised their heads at the sound of the truck, but they dropped them just as quickly. Their eyes followed Cash as he drove up to the front of the little house, but they did not rise to greet him. Cash looked around, but he did not see Guppie outside. His wife, Nell, was hanging wet pillow cases on a sagging clothesline in the backyard. Cash wondered if the old lady was still washing them by hand. Probably.

Guppie was the closest thing to a friend Clifford Prater had. They'd worked together at the plant for years. Clifford was Guppie's boss on the night shift. A stiff drink and a good game of cards were the glue that bonded the two men.

In a stained tee shirt that strained to cover his belly, dirty overhauls, and old work boots with no shoe strings, Guppie opened the door before Cash could knock it.

"Cash boy, you're wasting your time," Guppie said after Cash had introduced Lori. "I want to be clear. I don't want to sound harsh, but I done told the deputy everything I know. Everything. And that ain't much. It might amount to all you could put on the end of a pin. Clifford's dead. I can't help you. I got no idea who killed the poor sot. Leave me alone, Cash. I don't know nothing about what happened to him. Nothing at all.

"You're probably right," said Cash. "But I was hoping ..."

"Your hopes are misplaced. All I can tell you, you already know. Clifford was your uncle, but he was a mean SOB. He probably stepped on the wrong person's toes. Mowed 'em off, more likely. He wasn't a man I would trust. Wasn't even somebody I'd label a friend. But he was good to drink and gamble with. That was about all. We got along until we didn't. He cheated me. And the worst of it was he knew he cheated. He was just too stubborn to admit it. Hell, I'd have forgiven him. Let bygones be bygones. But he refused to admit it. Got all huffy and all holier than thou. I can't stand that. And I didn't stand for it. I told him so. He told me off, too.

I won that game fair and square. If he didn't have it, he never should have kept playing. It was the first time he screwed me on a debt. And dammit, it was the last time I ever said bean kiss your foot to him. I ain't heard from him since that day, and I didn't want to. I told you. I don't know nothing about his murder. Not one single dad-burned thing. Now, go on home, son. Leave me in peace, and leave me alone."

Guppie didn't slam the door in his face, so he took that as a good sign. There was a slab of old wood on two cinderblocks that substituted for a bench. Cash sat down. Lori stood nearby. In a moment, Guppie sat down beside him under the shaded tin roof of the porch.

"Look, Guppie," Cash said, "I know you're upset about all this."

"Upset? What could a sprout like you know about how I feel? You don't know doodly-squat. Cash, you don't know upset. That sorry Uncle of yours kicked the bucket owing me sixty dollars. Sixty bucks! Do you realize how much food that buys? Jesus. You aren't here to pay off that old som-bitch's debt are you?"

"Uh, no. Flat broke. Sorry, Guppie."

"Figures. Well, you have my condolences. I'm sorry. Sorry that you had to lose your kin like that. Nobody deserves that kind of news. But I ain't sorry for how I still feel. No, sir. I ain't sorry about that one bit."