The Secrets of the Deadwood

The Deadwoods were moist and humid from the recent rainfall in Corinth. DaVinci sauntered along ahead, his tail raised and straight as an arrow. His hind quarters zig zagged through the underbrush of the woods, and his tiny paws picked carefully over wet things.

“How much farther is it?” I complained.

Though the weatherman had promised cooling temperatures in anticipation of fall, summer held on with the single-minded vengeance of an ex-girlfriend. I swiped at my forehead and held my shirt collar away from my sticky skin for better ventilation.

“It’s just around the corner,” he advised me. “Stop sniveling, human.”

I grumbled underneath my breath as I followed the orange tabby begrudgingly to the corpse. We rounded a large tree with a knotted trunk and overgrown roots that stuck up through the soil. Sprawled out behind it and half-buried underneath a fresh pile of leaves was the body DaVinci had reported earlier this morning.

“Well, I’ll be,” I whispered. “You were telling the truth.”

DaVinci leapt up onto the stump of a fallen oak tree and cleaned his paws. The body was male and covered in various insects. Its pale, waxen skin had bloated, and the torn clothing covering the torso was saturated with rain and mud.

“Can you tell who it is?” I asked, covering my nose with my hand. Though the corpse looked recent, the smell of decay permeated the surrounding air. Flies buzzed around it, alighting, and then taking flight again. DaVinci continued his bath, calm as ever, and twitched his ear.

“I think it’s Dan Cumberland,” he said.

“Dan- the real estate agent?”

“Unless you know of any other Dans,” DaVinci said offhandedly.

I crept closer to examine the bloated remains, holding my breath as I peered into the face. The eyes were open and sightless. The hands were curled with rigor, the fingernails encrusted with dirt and plant materials. I wondered how much trouble I would be in for corrupting the crime scene. Sherriff Eagan was no fan of mine ever since I’d dated and dumped his idiot son, Beckley.

“That’s going to be an uncomfortable phone call,” DaVinci remarked, mirroring my thoughts.

“No kidding.”

_#_

By the time sheriff Eagan arrived, DaVinci had gone home. I’d promised him a can of tuna once I was through here, so I’d have to stop by Gröben’s Little Market on east Pickwick Avenue on my way home. The distance between Dan’s body and my house was less than two miles, but in the heat of the day, it felt farther. Sheriff Eagan stepped over the legs of the body; his oversized pants stretched to capacity. His generous belly hung over the waistline like undercooked custard overflowing its dish. A cowboy hat covered his thinning brown hair, and his plain white polo t-shirt had his name and rank embroidered across the left chest. The telltale star was pinned to his right chest, winking in the sunlight breaking through the canopy of trees.

“That’s Dan, alright,” he grumbled, stumbling back to where I stood.

I gagged as a small gust of wind ruffled the trees and wafted the smell through my nostrils again.

“How did you say you found him?”

Gary Eagan eyed me with the suspicion of a lobster in a seafood tank. Ever since I’d dated his son, I’d had to watch my speed carefully and ensure I parked within the lines. My tags were always up to date and my taillights always worked. Sheriff Eagan was itching to make trouble for me.

“I was walking DaVinci,” I lied smoothly.

“Who the hell is DaVincci?”

I stifled a groan as the sheriff planted his hands on his hips.

“DaVinci is my cat, sheriff. I adopted him from the shelter last winter.”

“You were… walking… your cat…?”

I adjusted the narrow frames of my eyeglasses and sniffed.

“Yes.”

Moments later, the crime scene van pulled up, brakes screeching to a halt. Out climbed a slight older man with a grim exterior and his younger counterpart; someone I vaguely recognized from high school.

“Evening, Denali,” the younger man said.

He grinned at me, removing his baseball cap, revealing a full head of chocolate brown hair. His eyes were steel grey and his nose a little too big for his face. Though he was on the thin side for a man his age (which I estimated to be somewhere between twenty-five and thirty), he was lean and well-muscled.

“Eddie,” I said, finally recognizing the boy from ninth grade biology.

Eddie sat two seats behind me, and he’d asked me to the homecoming dance. I’d turned him down, mostly because I wasn’t allowed to date back then; and also because Eddie ate his own boogers.

“You remembered!”

I nodded as I gathered up my long hair and twisted it into a bun on my head. The humidity had worsened over the last hour, and I was itching to get back into my air-conditioned house and take a shower.

“You look good,” he started, leaning against the van.

“Eddie, get back here and help me unload this damn truck, will ya?!” the older man called.

Eddie flushed, his earlier confidence evaporating. Muttering a hasty goodbye, he made his way to the back of the van as the older man fumbled around inside it.

“Am I free to go?” I asked sharply.

I was certain the sheriff was enjoying my discomfort, but I’d watched enough law documentaries to know that he couldn’t detain me.

“Yeah, you go on now. Don’t leave town,” he warned.

I turned my back to him and rolled my eyes. I hadn’t left Corinth in nine years.

_#_

DaVinci lounged on the overstuffed pillows on the sofa in a pool of sunlight. The air conditioning hummed; the interior of my little house blissfully cool. I shut the door and locked it, sighing as I dished the canned tuna for DaVinci, who watched me with an heir of entitlement. I suppose he’d done someone a favor by locating the body, but he certainly hadn’t done me one.

“It took long enough,” he said drily, lapping up the tuna juice.

I made my way to the bathroom without comment, stripping off my sweaty clothes and stepping under the cool spray.

Dan Cumberland had stopped by my house yesterday afternoon, on his way home from church. He’d been trying to convince me to sell my house for months, ever since my great aunt Roni died and left it to me in her will. The house was a one-bedroom colonial with white clapboard exterior and a tiny front yard. Azaleas lined the picket fence, and a narrow stone path led from the driveway to the front patio. The backyard was full of gardening tools and drooping flowers that had undergone a hot summer. I’d spent a dozen summers in this house, baking in the kitchen and playing on these hardwood floors. My aunt’s smell still lingered throughout.

I’m afraid my decision stands, I’d told him.

Dan shoved a stack of comparable properties at me, reminding me of the amount of equity I had in this house. I’d accepted the stack graciously, tossing it in the garbage bin later.

After a few more minutes of polite listening, I pretended to hear the phone ring and closed the door on him. That was the last time I’d seen Dan Cumberland alive.

_#_

That night, it rained again. The droplets pounded against the glass, sliding down like tears of mother nature. The wind rattled the glass panels and caused the screen to slap against its frame. I lay awake in bed, trying to figure out who could have murdered our local real-estate agent and why. Dan was a divorced man with no children. He wasn’t popular in the real-estate circles, but as far as I knew, he’d had no real enemies to speak of. He’d attended church regularly at the Gospel Hall of Believers on Maple Avenue and coached Little League every other season. By all accounts, he was an honest man, even if he’d been a little overzealous.

How did he manage to die in the Deadwoods? DaVinci asked.

His soft body was curled up on the pillow beside mine, his head on his paws.

“That’s a good question,” I told him aloud.

DaVinci and I mused back and forth before drifting off to sleep. Sometimes having a mind-reading cat was rather inconvenient, but at times like these, it served us rather well.

_#_

Two weeks later…

News of Dan Cumberland’s death circulated through Corinth like a wildfire. Dan had become more popular in death than he’d ever been in his life. Strangers speculated on the circumstances of his demise; rumors of bad business dealings and mafia ties spread through the whisperings of nosy older ladies with better means of occupying their time. According to the sheriff, Dan was strangled there in the woods. The body had been recent; only twelve hours old when I’d found it and never moved from its original position.

Interestingly, Dan had closed his bank accounts hours before his murder. His house had been extraordinarily messy, but their search recovered two packed suitcases and a travel duffel stowed away in his bedroom closet. I ate crackers and peanut butter as I watched the latest news coverage from my living room sofa.

DaVinci growled and raised his head as a swift knock sounded on the screen door.

“Denali!? It’s me, Eddie!” a muffled voice called.

“What is that imbecile doing coming to the house?!” DaVinci asked, indignant.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” I grumbled, setting aside the sleeve of crackers.

Eddie beamed at me from the other side of the screen door, clad in pleated khakis and a pressed linen shirt.

“Eddie, what can I do for you?”

“I figured finding that corpse must’ve left you a bit shaken,” he began.

“Yes, Dan’s murder was tragic.”

“Especially since you saw him last,” he commented.

I cocked an eyebrow, staring him down through the door. DaVinci coughed behind me, thinking a string of curse words at the man that only I could hear. I smothered a smile.

“Yes… did sheriff Eagan tell you that?”

Eddie blinked as his mind caught up.

“Oh- yeah. He told me. Talk is the two of you were dating.”

I didn’t bother masking my surprise.

“They think I dated Dan?!”

DaVinci snickered, and I plucked a pillow from the armchair nearest me and hurled it at the cat. He dodged it adeptly and scurried down the hall and out of sight. Eddie watched with confusion written on his face.

“Y-yeah. Didn’t you?”

“No! He was trying to convince me to sell my house! After about eight times of telling him no, he stopped by my place unannounced,” I said, putting an emphasis on the last word.

“I see,” he said, backing down the porch steps. “Well, you have my condolences, all the same,” he said firmly.

“Thank you.”

“Maybe we can discuss it over dinner?”

There it was. The real purpose behind the visit. Eddie thought to leverage the tragedy of Dan’s death by using it to secure a date with me. Not only was it poor taste, but I’d never been interested in Eddie romantically. He made my skin crawl.

“I’d rather not,” I said briskly, closing the door. I sighed and stood with my back against the door, listening to the sounds of his departure. DaVincci stared me down from the hallway.

I’m not going to call him dad, DaVincci thought smugly.

I tossed another pillow at him.

_#_

Thunder clapped, waking me with a start.

Denali! Wake up!

DaVinci’s insistent voice rattled in my sleep-addled brain. I groaned and swatted at the side of the bed where he slept, meeting air. Forcing my eyelids open, I sat up and scanned the room for my cat, who wasn’t in his usual place.

Get dressed and come get me! His voice boomed.

Muttering a few choice words, I tossed back the coverlet and slid from between the warm sheets, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. I dressed quickly, shoving my feet into a pair of old sneakers and tying my hair back in a ponytail. Still grumbling, I stumbled around my darkened bedroom, searching for my rain jacket.

Where are you?! I thought to the cat.

I’m in Eddie’s trailer on the edge of Deadwood. You’ve got to come and see this!

Pocketing a flashlight, I locked the door up tight and climbed on my bicycle, aiming it toward the Deadwood. In a town the size of Corinth, a car was seldom necessary- most of the shops were within walking or riding distance. The rain had abated for now, but lightning streaked the sky in intermittent bursts, and the clouds rumbled in the distance. As the first light droplets hit my skin, I cursed that cat all over again.

If this is some kind of sick joke, DaVincci, I swear I’ll-

Shut up and get here! This isn’t a bloody joke! Your lover boy’s a killer.

When I pulled up to the trailer on the edge of the Deadwood, I hid my bike behind a thicket of shrubbery and crept closer to the dilapidated trailer. It was parked right where DaVincci told me it was, its’ pale canopy sagging above the narrow doorframe leading inside. The door stood ajar, the neighboring windows high and boarded up with plywood. The exterior was rusted and moss-covered, dented in several places. A ragged hole near the door homed a few small critters and a spider or two. Whomever owned this motorhome had likely abandoned it a long time ago.

“DaVincci!” I hissed.

My hands shook as I switched on my flashlight and aimed it inside the motorhome.

I started when DaVinci’s shadow darted across the beam of light, calling me in after him.

Glancing around to ensure we were alone, I eased my way up the rickety steps and into the motorhome, shining my light in every corner. It was empty and ransacked, with old food rotting on paper plates and empty soda cans littering its interior. A small radio lay on the tiny, foldable table, its pieces scattered all around as though someone had intentionally smashed it. I gasped when I recognized the linen shirt Eddie had worn to my house hanging on a line along the interior wall.

Look over here, DaVincci thought gravely.

Following his gaze, I swept the beam of light to the far wall of motorhome and gasped. Dozens of photos of Dan and I hung there, taken at various points in time. All of them were from the perspective of someone hidden away, our profiles distant and distorted through light and lens. Goose pimples skated along my skin and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end.

And then there’s this… DaVincci said gravely, nodding his head to my left.

I choked back a scream when I saw the length of thick rope lying there on the table, neatly coiled with frayed edges and blood spatters along the length of it. Dan was beaten prior to being strangled, but the coroner had ruled the cause of death as asphyxiation.

Evidently, he had it bad, DaVincci said, referring to Eddie’s obsession with me.

“Evidently so,” I breathed.

A wave of nausea overcame me, and I stepped out of the trailer quickly, leaning against the tree trunk to catch my bearings. Eddie had been following me for months, snapping photos and hanging them in his trailer. Eddie had killed Dan, mistaking our frequent visits as romantic rendezvous. Eddie was a murderer.

“You’d better call the sheriff,” DaVincci said out loud. “And for the love of bob, please don’t vomit. I hate vomit.”

_#_

Sheriff Eagan was none too happy to see me again, and this time, explaining why I’d been poking around Eddie’s trailer at night proved to be a more difficult task. DaVinci had remained there with me this time, giving me the excuse of chasing him off into the woods. Though he suspected my lie, the sheriff had no evidence to refute it, and after some additional questions, he told me to return home.

The town media exploded with details of Eddie’s disappearance and his presumed guilt over the murder of Dan Cumberland. Sheriff Eagan told the press that Eddie had been an obsessive personality, and his nature had gotten the best of him when he’d mistakenly thought Dan was dating the object of his fascination. Dozens of Eddie’s past acquaintances came out of the woodwork, claiming stalking and obsessive tendencies; a few of them had filed restraining orders. No one seemed to understand how his past had remained secret, even to the sheriff’s department, who worked alongside him on a regular basis.

Eagan kindly left my name out of the matter, but Corinth was a small town, and people talked. I didn’t think I would ever be in the clear as far as the sheriff was concerned, but at least they’d caught Dan’s killer. Davincci and I resumed our normal lives together in my little house on the fringes of Corinth, ignoring the rumors, for the most part. Despite my dislike for Dan Cumberland, his death had been tragic and completely preventable; I couldn’t help but bear a certain amount of guilt, even if Eddie was the culprit. Eventually Corinth relaxed, and the news of the coroner’s assistant turned killer died down to a whisper.

Until a month later, when Eddie’s body was recovered, lying abandoned in the Deadwood, killed in the same way.