Mater Pie

Dirk started taking daily drives after he’d retired, usually ending up at the old barber shop. Doris, his wife of fifty years, claimed he went there to gossip, but he called it fact-finding. Dirk rumbled through the rutted dirt road. Trees canopied over the road making it feel like he had drove through a green tunnel. Thirty years as Dogwood sheriff meant he knew every road in Dogwood, yet he had never noticed this road before that had him bouncing on the bench seat as he maneuvered his old truck around the deep tread tracks. Large trucks had been through recently.

He pumped the brakes when a fence came into view. The fence, built with 20-foot trees stripped of their branches and tops shaved into sharp points, disappeared into the woods on either side of the road, and a gate blocked the road.

A guard stood in front of the gate. His dirty locks of hair clung to his neck from under his sweat-stained hat, his boots were scuffed and cracked, and a hairy knee peeked out from a hole in his camo pants. His camo t-shirt clung to his body, drenched in sweat from the hot day. A bandolier hung across his chest packed with clips for the AR-15 rifle he pointed in Dirk’s direction.

The truck door squeaked open, and Dirk hobbled out, rubbing his lower back to work the kinks after the rough ride. Dirk, noticing the guard also wore a gun belt with a pistol, additional magazines, and a walkie talkie.This guy is armed to the teeth, he thought as he put on his best non-threatening smile and waved.

“Howdy! I’s jus out for a ride. Sumthin’ I do since I retired. Lived here all my life and never seen nothin’ like this,” said Dirk. He put his hands on his hips and leaned back admiring the fence. “Ooowee! That’s something else.”

“This here’s private property. So git,” said the guard, motioning with his rifle.

“Well, wait a minute now. I’m jus’ a curious citizen that’s lived here all my life. So far as I know, ain’t nobody own this land out here ‘cept maybe the gov’ment. What’s back beyond that fence?” Dirk asked. He watched the man carefully, hoping he didn’t have an itchy trigger finger.

“Ain’t none yer bizness.” The guard bent his eye to the scope of the rifle, looking as though he wanted to put a hole in Dirk. “Now git.”

Dirk raised his hands up, eyes wide. “Ok, ok, no need to point that thing at me. I’m gittin’.”

Dirk watched the guard in his rearview mirror as he drove away. The man held the walkie talkie to his mouth, gesturing wildly. Dirk's sheriff sense pinged loudly in his head.

What in the world is goin’ on out here? Maybe it’s private land. Suppose he has every right to guard his land. Don't mean I can't figure out who owns it. Why they have an armed guard. Crazy ass man, lookin’ like he’s ready to shoot somebody. Sure didn’t look like a man who was afraid to shoot; he was just itchin’ to pull that trigger. What if some kids came out here lookin to party? Nutcase, he’s gotta be a nutcase.

The decision made to learn more about the road and it's inhabitants beyond the fence, Dirk stopped at the Dogwood Farmer’s Stand. Doris would have his hide if he didn’t bring home the fresh, summer tomatoes finally ripe enough to eat. His mouth watered at the thought of that first tomato sandwich of the summer: thick slices of juicy Dogwood tomato, slathered with sweet mayo, a light sprinkling of salt, all on Wonder bread.

“Hey there, Mr. Dirk. We gon’ ta see you and Ms. Doris at the tomato festival next weekend?” June asked as she rang up his tomatoes.

Dirk pulled himself out of his thoughts of what he’d found in the woods. “I’m sorry June. My mind is all over? What did you ask?”

“The tomato festival? Y’all gon’ be there?” June smiled up at him.

 “Oh yea, we'll be there on Sunday, like always. Hey, June, you know that dirt road, down off Hwy 80, past the Hawkins’ chicken coops? Back in the woods? You know what’s back there?”

“Hmmm. No…nope, I don’t think so. Far as I know, it’s jus’ a pine tree stand down that stretch.” Dirk thought he saw her hand tremble slightly as she handed him his change.

He narrowed his eyes at her. “You sure? There was a guy in camo with a gun and a big fence back there…” He trailed off when he saw concern in June’s expression. Did she think he was making this up?

 “Mr. Dirk, you sure bout that? Ain’t nothin like that far as I know. Have you been to your doc lately? I heard early stages of Parkinson’s, some folks start to hallucinate. Not that I don’ believe you, but maybe just head home and take a rest. You want Bubba to drive you home?” asked June.

Dirk could feel the heat rising in his face. Damn know-it-all bitch. I know exactly what I saw. Why is she acting like I’m crazy? I’m old, not dead.

 “I ain’t sick and I ain’t hallucinatin! I can drive my own damn self home.” He grabbed his tomatoes and stalked to his truck, mumbling under his breath. “Damn folks round here. Sheriff all those years, and I get accused of crazy,” he said grabbing his tomatoes and stalking to his truck.

****

When Dirk drove out of the lot, June reached for her telephone. “Ol’ Dirk Piedmont’s been asking bout what’s out behind the fence.”

She paused to listen.

 “I dunno, you know how he is. I don’t think he’s gon’ drop it.”

Another pause.

“Ok, I’ll call Gran. She'll know what to doI don’t see any other way. Tried to convince him he was hallucinating.” She laughed loudly, “you shoulda seen his face!”

***

When Dirk got home, he kissed Doris hello, deposited the tomatoes on the kitchen table, and started down the hall to his office. Doris called after him, “Everything all right hon?”

“Ya, ya, ya. I jus’ gotta look somthin’ up. Strangest thing happened today…” His voice trailed off as he shut the door. Doris could hear the creak of his old chair as he sat at his desk.

She reached down to scratch their faithful black lab, Bandit, behind the ears. “Daddy’s found him ‘nother great adventure, huh Bandito? What ya say we fix him a mater sammich with these beautiful worl’ famous maters?”

Doris knocked softly as she pushed open the door of Dirk’s office. She set a plate with a tomato sandwich on his cluttered desk. He had a map of Dogwood and the surrounding areas on his computer screen.

He shook his head, “It’s the dangdest thing. They ain’t nothing down that road but trees and swamps ‘cording to every map.”

Doris put her hand on his shoulder and looked at the screen. “Well? What was you spectin’ to find?”

“It’s the strangest thing. I was out drivin round…” Dirk recounted the story to her. “An’ then the way June acted. She says ain’t nothing down there, that I should see a doc. Like I was hallucinatin’ or something. And she was so nervous, Doris, so nervous. I know what nervous looks like. I been a cop long 'nuff an’ June was edgy as hell.”

She patted his shoulder. “Hon, you know this town like the back of your hand. How could a road jus’ show up that you didn’t know about, all of the sudden like?” Her voice was soft and soothing.

“I dunno. Maybe…” He rubbed his hand over his sparse, white hair. “Ya know, maybe they’s growin’ drugs out there. The road was tough to see. Looked like it was just an old loggin’ road. I never expected to see anyone or anything cept maybe a deer out there. I’ll call Bob at the station on Monday, an’ make sure somebody checks it out.”

Doris sighed. Since Dirk retired, there always seemed to be a reason for him to call Bob at the station, but never a valid one. Bob told Doris that he’d finally told Dirk at their weekly Waffle House breakfast to stop calling and meddling in police business. “Enjoy your retirement, Dirk. Go home, kiss your pretty wife, play with your grandkids. We got this under control.” That had been over a year ago, and Dirk only recently forgave Bob and started their breakfast ritual again.

Dirk looked up at Doris, knowing what she was thinking about. “Ok, you’re right. I’ll check it out again tomorrow. Maybe bring the boys and a shotgun.” The boys were their two grown sons, and the shotgun meant trouble. Doris knew she couldn’t talk him out of anything once his mind was made up.

He picked up the sandwich and took a big bite. He smiled up at her with mayonnaise and tomato juice dripping down his chin, refusing to acknowledge the concern on her face. “Mmmm. Mmm. Doris, hon, you shore do make the best mater sammich!”

Later that evening, Dirk was snoring in his recliner while Doris watched Wheel of Fortune, the volume blaring. Bandit alerted them to a visitor at the door, barking and jumping up on the door, looking to see what new friend he could cover in kisses.

Doris looked to Dirk but he continued snoring so she shuffled to the door. Ms. Patsy, Dogwood Farmers’ Stand’s matriarch, stood hunched over her cane with a covered dish in her free hand.

“Why, Ms. Patsy? What brings you out here this evening? Here, lemme take that dish. Oh my! It’s still warm and smells heavenly!”

“No bother, I jus’ wanted ta drop off one of my mater pies for y’all. My June said Dirk was in this afta’noon and left upset.”

Her cane clicked loudly across the floor, and she sat heavily onto a chair. Dirk stirred in his chair. “Hey there, I didn’t know we was expecting company. It’s nice to see you, Ms. Patsy. What brings you out all this way?”

“I brought y’all a mater pie. June told me you’d come in pretty upset today. I thought maybe I could clear up some things for ya.”

“Clear up some things?” Dirk face turned read as he joined them at the dining room table. “June gone and tol’ me I was hallucinatin’ that guy out there pointing a gun at me. Old don’t mean dead. She treat you like that?”

“That’s my man out guardin’ my tomato fields. I pay quite well to protect our fields. You see those tomatoes are very special. The Department of Defense has a contract with our farm, and it is national security to keep those tomatoes safe. Do you understand, Dirk?” She looked at him as she would a child being given his last warning. He wanted to laugh. Did she really believe this nonsense?

“If you need someone to protect the place, why didn’t you call Bob down at the station? I’m sure he could help you out.” Or send you to the looney bin.

“The gov’ment has us covered for anythin’ we can’t handle ourselves.” Doris came in from the kitchen, coffee pot in one hand and three plates on which three coffee mugs balanced.

“Will you be having a slice of this beautiful mater pie with us, Ms. Patsy?” Doris asked.

“No, I must be goin’. I need y’all to keep this to yourselves, ya hear?”

“I don’t understan’ exactly what you want us ta keep quiet. Anyone could go drivin’ down that road and see what I saw. You visit ever’one that finds it?”

Ms. Patsy shook her head as she got up from her chair. “You were once the sheriff, so I wanted to pay you the respect you deserve. All anyone else needs to know is its private property. I need to get goin’. Enjoy the pie.”

****

She hobbled out the door, and Bandit ran out before the door shut behind her, off to explore the night. She reached for her phone. “It’s done. No way was he goin’ ta keep quiet.” She listened for a moment. “Nah, we won’t need a cleanup crew. Let the new sheriff clean it up. They won’t find any evidence from this batch.”

***

When Dirk didn’t show for breakfast and wouldn’t answer the phone, Bob went to the Piedmonts wondering what he did to upset Dirk this time. Bandit greeted him enthusiastically, almost knocking him over before running to the door. He looked at Bob expectantly. Bob knocked but there was no answer.

“Dirk? Doris? Y’all home?” Both of their vehicles were parked in the driveway, and when there was still no answer from inside, he let himself in with the key under the mat. Bandit darted inside.

“What’s a matter, ol’ boy? You get in trouble with…” His voice trailed off, and his eyes filled with horror.

Dirk sat at the kitchen table; his head bent backward over the chairback. The end of a piece of a fork protruded from his forehead and dark red blood stained his face. Bandit whined and nudged Dirk’s lifeless hand. Dirk’s blood-red eyes were wide open as if to say, “You’re late, Bob. You missed the party.”

With no response from Dirk, Bandit trotted over to Doris. He sniffed at her body. She lay on the floor amongst glass shards and the remains of tomato pie. In one hand was a glass shard dripping with blood, while her other arm had been split open from her wrist to her elbow. Her eyes were also red and a smile was frozen on her face as if she was enjoying this bloody party even in death.

Bandit lapped greedily at the remains of the tomato pie. “Bandit! Git away from there!” Bandit continued to eat the remains of the pie.

 “C’mon, boy!” Bob reached out to grab him by the collar. Bandit turned on him, his once kind, brown eyes now red, his lips thrown back in a snarl. Bob slowly backed away, tripping over a rug and sprawling on his backside. Bandit stalked toward him slowly and purposefully. Bob became the prey. Sweet Bandit, who never met a person he didn’t like, advanced on Bob, teeth bared, a low growl issued from him. Bob found his feet, turned, and dashed for the door as Bandit pounced.