Graded in Red

Chapter Nine

The Oklahoma summer sun wasn't its usual scorching self today. At a mere 85 degrees, it was almost pleasant. It felt refreshing enough that my sweat wasn't sweating. I cranked down the windows and flipped open the moon roof in my car, letting the breeze slip through, mixing the warm air with '90s tunes at full volume. Blasting Hanson's "MMMBop" was a slice of nostalgia that transported me back to when I was a nine-year-old, cruising up to Tulsa with my mom to see Hanson live. Those memories were among the sweetest of my childhood.

Ah, those were simpler times. Back when the worst thing was losing my ice cream to the pavement after the truck drove away. Lost in reminiscence, I almost missed the scrap yard coming into view on the right. It was impossible to overlook. Whoever ran this place had a knack for arranging all the yellow, orange, and red car parts into a strikingly accurate replica of a Phoenix. I made a mental note to bring Victoria here; she'd adore this, assuming I'm still allowed back after today.

My car rattled and shook as I rolled into the lot. They hadn't bothered to pave it, just laid down a bed of gravel. The sound of rocks ricocheting against the car's underbelly made me wince. I silently prayed it hadn't damaged anything critical under the hood. On a teacher's salary, unexpected repairs like these were a budget nightmare. This car had to survive another five or ten years at least.

There it was, one lone spot at the front, right in front of what I assumed was the scrap yard office. It resembled a converted trailer home trying too hard to pass as a storefront. The widened front door looked like someone had taken a sledgehammer to it and wedged in a double-door setup that didn't fit the uneven cutout. It was the sort of door that would undoubtedly let in drafts in the spring and trap frigid air come winter. In Oklahoma, they say, "If you don't like the weather, wait a minute; it'll change." Cowboy humor by the famous Will Rogers, no less. This place definitely wouldn't meet Broken Arrow's city ordinances, hence why it was plonked five miles outside city limits.

Summoning every ounce of courage, I prepared mentally to step out into the unknown. I took a deep breath, slung my bag over my shoulder, and pushed open the car door. Time to bite the bullet; I refused to go down for something I hadn't done.

I approached the slightly crooked double doors and knocked. A closer look revealed they were actually beautiful French doors, the kind you'd find opening out to a patio or a terrace. The intricate etching on the glass had obviously taken some skilled craftsmanship, although the neglect here was glaring. Layers of grime and dirt coated the glass, obscuring any view inside.

"Hello!?" I called out, straining to catch any response. Peering through the glass, I realized the place might be deserted, perhaps the workers were out in the scrap yard taking advantage of the cool morning.

Curiosity propelled me to walk around the back of the trailer home. Checking my watch, I noted the time – 9:30 am. Victoria wanted to meet up at Coffee Grind on Main Street to discuss everything that had transpired. I'd promised to be there around 11:00 am after running my errands.

As I turned the corner, I bumped straight into the person I was hoping to find. Up close, he looked older than the night I saw him at the pub.

"Whoa, little lady! It's not safe to roam around the scrap yard alone. Piles of metal and hazardous chemicals all around. You could've gotten yourself hurt," the man exclaimed, squinting slightly as he peered at me, hinting he might need glasses.

"Sorry! I tried knocking on the front door, but no one answered. I thought to check around the back," I replied, extending my hand for a shake. "I'm Maggie Turee, by the way."

"Tom Bishop. Nice to meet you. What brings you all the way here to the Phoenix Scrap Yard? Got something specific you're looking for?" he inquired with a friendly tone.

Shoot, I hadn't planned what to say once I got here. I definitely couldn't tell him I suspected him of being the killer. Well, I could, but then I might end up as a missing person for years, leaving my parents wondering what happened. There were enough nooks and crannies around here to hide a small army. Blast it, Maggie, why did you even think that? I berated myself for my lack of foresight.

"My mom's an artist around here and she sent me to check out the different metals you've got. She's planning an exhibit focusing on metals found in Broken Arrow. Dad mentioned this place, so I thought I'd take a look while Mom's consulting in Tulsa today," I blurted out, almost surprised at how smoothly the lie slipped from my lips. It felt like butter, but it also left an uncomfortable residue in my mouth. I hated lying, even if it was for a good cause.

"Ah! Well you have come to the right place little lady. I had all different types of metals, hard metals, soft metals, metals in between. Do you happen to know if your mom is looking for bigger statement pieces or is she looking for something smaller?" He got out a crumpled up piece of paper and pulled a pencil from his greasy hair and started writing things down.

"You know, I'm not quite sure. She didn't let me in on the small details. She just wanted me to look around and see what you had." I smiled, hoping that this facade would keep up.

"Hmmmm, I can take you around for a little bit, but the Captain is coming down in about half an hour and I'll be tied up all afternoon. If you see anything that strikes your fancy that you think your mom would like, just holler and I can give you a quote on the price." He smiled and started to walk away.

"Oh! I think I have seen you somewhere before. You look so familiar!" I scratched my head, "Were you at Murphy's earlier this week?"

Mr. Bishop's face turned red and he stammered, "As...as a matter of fact I was. I go there once or twice a week to get a drink after a long days work. Why?" I could see the openness that he had with me before start to close.

"I just remembered you from the bar, I think you were having an argument with someone." I tried to sound as if I was really trying to focus on the memory.

"Yes, I did. Bridgett Star. Did you know her?" He questioned.

"Me? No, but the name sounds familiar. Wasn't she the woman that was found killed at the high school? Someone stabbed her, I believe." I shook with real fright that time, I didn't need to act then.

"Yeah, I heard." Tom cleared the thickness that has sprung up in his throat, as though he was trying not to cry, "I was out of town yesterday at my sister's celebrating my nephew's 5th birthday. When I got home this morning, I was called by the Captain, he said that he needed to question me about my whereabouts. I have a solid alibi though, picture proof, and family members swearing I was in Sapulpa." He wiped the sweat from his face with the bottom of his shirt.

My heart sank when I heard that he had an alibi. He seemed like a sweet enough guy and I didn't want anyone innocent to go to prison, but I was really hoping that he would be the killer and that I could go home and sleep restfully tonight. However, that wasn't going to happen.

"At least you have an alibi, that is great news! May I ask why you and her were arguing? I saw you two fighting, you grabbed her arm, and then well..." I started to get uncomfortable talking about the make out scene that I had witnessed.

"We started at each other like hungry animals? That's just how Bridgett and I were. She was mad at me because I wouldn't give her anymore money for drugs. She claimed that she needed to buy school supplies for her kid, but I could tell that she was itching for her next fix. I wasn't going to be the person that gave her the money to kill herself with that white powder." He shook his head in disbelief.

This made sense, the anger that I saw in Tom's face was actually a look of desperate concern. He had been angry that she wanted drug money from him and Bridgett was desperate enough to lie to him about it. I hadn't realized that I had gotten lost in my own thoughts until I heard Tom say, "And that was the last time I saw her. She yelled at some girl who spilled her drink and she stormed out of the pub. I wish I could have helped her more." He frowned in what looked like confusion and then looked up like something had dawned on him.

"You know you look pretty familiar too. Why do I know your face?" He looked like he was going to grab my arm but I stumbled back.

Looking at my watch, I stammered, "Oh! Look at the time. Didn't you say that the Captain was coming out here at 10 am? It's about that time. Thank you so much for your help! I will let my mom know about the variety of different metals you have. I am sure that she will come and take a look around for herself sometime soon." I was walking backward, waving my hand, when I felt my body slam into someone's chest.