It's Murder at the Buy-Right

11

 After a few hours, the back of the Buy-Right was cleaned and looked as if nothing had happened. Albion was back in his office, his butt comfortably seated in his big office chair, and Deke was allowed to open the store.

Word spread like wildfire, and the store's parking lot was packed with cars.

"Awful quick, if you ask me," said Ham Rallings. "Things get missed or messed up. Lost or destroyed. Important things go bad when a case is rushed. But then, I don't know doodly-squat about investigations. I guess they know what they're doing. Just seems awful quick to me."

"He was despondent," said Buenna Iverdale, clutching a pack of breath mints and pork sausage. "They do that when they're dejected. Heaven knows what's in another person's mind, but it ain't good when they're depressed. Gloom and despair. Nothing to do but punch out early. I got that on good confidence. It's a suicide, plain and simple. "

The checkout line had been endless since the incident. If she hadn't known better, Daisy Ann could have sworn Deke was running a fire sale.

"How would you know?" ask Daisy Ann.

"Trust me," said Buenna. "I have my sources. Reliable ones. From the donkey's mouth straight to my ear.

I don't know that I can't blame the poor fellow. I've heard he had nothing but rotten luck. Flunked out of college. No job. No prospects. Melancholy. Suicide. Goes hand in hand. You seen him, Daisy Ann. Crotchety. Scowled all the time. Just plain unhappy. Practically mute. Wouldn't smile. Wouldn't say bean kiss your foot to nobody! Yep, it was suicide, alright. Makes perfect sense to me."

"Well, it's the way of the world," said Midge. "Things are really tough for young people, now days. My poor Niles can't buy a job. I wish he could snag some kind of work. Men need work. They need to feel useful. They need a regular paycheck. You know what they say about idle hands."

"Umm," said Daisy Ann. "They go fishing!"

"Oh, Daisy Ann," Midge said, "you're such a card."

But Daisy Ann had not meant her remark to be funny. She'd known Midge's son all his life.

Niles had never been an angel in the community. He sought out trouble like a fly seeks stink. He had been arrested more than once, but he'd never served any serious time. Daisy Ann had never figured out why not.

Maybe he slathered his body in motor oil every morning before he left his mother's house. That could explain why Lady Justice couldn't grab hold of him and hang on.

Life was a puzzle. A tangled web. And some things were better left alone.

"You know, I don't mean to be spreading rumors, but I heard it said," Buenna whispered, looking over her shoulder to make sure everyone was listening, "that Burnell was an addict!"

Daisy Ann heard an audible gasp behind her. This was just the fuel that was needed to stoke Buenna's fire. Her eyes sparkled, and there was just the hint of a smile on her pudgy face.

"There was a needle stuck in his arm when they got him up on the gurney and took him off in the meat wagon!"

"A needle! You don't say!"

"Who told you that?"

Buenna had every single person's undivided attention.

"Drugs, huh. Would explain the surly attitude," somebody said.

"He wasn't the friendliest," another mumbled.

"Most likely why he took his life."

"Pills or hard drugs. That's quicksand and a death trap, sure."

"Buenna," said Daisy Ann, "they just sent his body for autopsy."

"I know that," said Buenna. "But people do all sorts of things when they're not in their right state of mind."

"I'll say," somebody behind Buenna chimed in. "Remember when Millard Merle drove off with Oma Jeanne Lack?"

"I don't think that's the state of mind she's talking about, Bud. Millard Merle was like a penned bull on a heifer farm. His mamma kept him tied to her apron strings for forty years. I'd bolt too, first chance I got. That Oma Jeanne was nothing to sneeze at."

"She was a looker," Bud added. "Had them sexy full lips just like a carp."

"As I was saying," Buenna continued, "folks do anything when they're high. Maybe he meant to. Maybe he didn't. Even if it was an accident, it's a shame. Him being so young and all."

Daisy Ann decided she'd give ten dollars for two cotton balls to stop up her ears. She looked around at the hungry mob. They were not the kind who had missed a few meals. Their hunger was different, but just like the physical kind, it gnawed at their insides, demanding to be satisfied.

It was going to be a very long day.

"Deke," she said, as they were closing up, "you been awful quiet. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I just didn't see the need for me to add to the conversation. Plenty of others are buzzing like bees."

"I know what you mean. And all that speculation about Burnell. Drug addiction! Suicide! I don't know what happened out back, but I hate to think about that boy lying back there behind that dumpster with the cardboard and the other trash. It's an awful way to go."

"Awful is right," Deke said. "And don't put so much stock in the gossip you hear. That boy looked like the produce we pitch in that dumpster."

"What are you saying?"

"Nothing, I guess. This county's eat up with evil. And from the look of his face, somebody pulverized Burnell. They wanted something out of him, and they wanted it bad. But I didn't say that, Daisy Ann. That just slipped out. Call it speculation.

Burnell was a good guy. Remember that. He was quiet. Nothing wrong with a man who likes peace and quiet. But what do I know? I'm just a small town grocer. Best to wait for the official cause of death. We don't want to be adding our two cents worth of grits to the rumor mill."