Page 3
“Maggie, we know this must be a terrible time for you,” said Ian, “but we have some questions we’d like to ask you.”
They’d had Duckie’s funeral only two days before, and she’d been so distraught that they could barely keep her upright. They noticed that most of the people in attendance were from Belle Fleur, which seemed strange considering how long Duckie and Maggie had lived in the area.
“Not sure what to say,” she sniffed, wiping her eyes. Claudette, Marie, Mama Irene, and Ruby were seated next to her. They’d made coffee, tea, and some sandwiches that were all on a pretty little tray on the coffee table.
“How much did Duckie normally drink?” asked Ghost.
“Maybe one at night after dinner,” she shrugged. “On the weekends, if we weren’t working, he might have two or three, but no more. He was always very careful about it because of us losin’ our Meg to a drunk driver.”
“That’s right,” nodded Ian with a frown. “I forgot about that, Maggie. I’m sorry. When did he start having pains?”
“About a week ago, but he refused to go to the clinic. He kept sayin’ it would go away, and he didn’t want the boys to know that he’d been drinkin’ moonshine.”
“Why was he drinking moonshine?” frowned Ghost. “We sell beer, wine, liquor, and other things at the store. It couldn’t have been money.”
“It wasn’t,” she said. “He had an old friend from school that was makin’ it in his backyard. Wanted Duckie to be his taste tester.” She sniffed again, dabbing her eyes and shaking her head.
“What was this friend’s name?” asked Ghost.
“John Brown,” said Maggie, shaking her head. “I’d never met him, but that was his name. There must be a thousand John Browns in the area. I tried to call but just got tired of leaving messages.”
“We can probably narrow it down by his age and the high school they went to,” smiled Ian. “He must not have been a very good friend if you’d never met him.”
“Duckie didn’t want me to meet him. He said John had fallen on hard times and wasn’t the same any longer. I don’t know what that means, but it might help you.”
“Did he ever say where he lived? Where he picked up the moonshine?” asked Ghost.
“Never. He would simply come home at night and have a bottle of that stuff in the trunk. Smelled awful,” she said with a sour face.
“Do you have any left?” asked Ian.
“I do, but I can’t let you drink it. I won’t,” she said, shaking her head. “You’re a good man, and your wife needs you.”
“I appreciate that, Maggie,” smiled Ian, “but I don’t want to drink it. We want to test it to see if we can tell where it came from, what types of chemicals were put in it, where the water was from, anything that might help us to find this man.”
She nodded and stood to walk back toward the back entry of the house. She’d placed the jug of liquor on the back porch and left it there, unsure of what to do with it. She returned with it, handing it to Ghost. He uncorked the bottle, sniffing what was inside, and began coughing, choking from the smell.
“We’re going to need that open for a little while,” he said. “Just that smell might kill someone.” Maggie shook her head, looking around the room.
“What do I do now? Duckie and I didn’t have any children other than Meg, and she’s been gone thirty years. I’ve got this little house, and it’s paid for, the job at the store, which I’m grateful for. But what do I do without him? We’ve been together almost fifty years now.”
“I don’t know,” said Irene. “I know it will be difficult for you, but we’re here to help if you need it. You could come stay in one of our cottages.”
“No. No, I need to be in my bed here. I need to feel him,” she said, sucking in an emotional breath, “I need to feel him when I wake up, in the air. I need to smell him in the room.”
Every person there nodded, swallowing an emotional reaction to her statement, knowing they would feel the same.
“Whatever you want to do, Maggie, we’re going to help you do it,” said Ian. “If you want to stay here for a while and think about it, then that’s what you’ll do. If you want to move somewhere else, maybe Arizona or Florida, we’ll get you into a retirement community. You could learn to play golf or tennis.”
“Maybe,” she said, nodding at him. “I’ve lived here my whole life. Living somewhere else seems unnatural. I’d be alone without Duckie for the first time in decades. We did everything together. It’s why we loved working at the store. We could go in together, or if I was working and he was off, he’d drive me into the store, he’d go do his errands or fix up what needed fixing and come back and get me.”
“He was a good man,” said Ruby. She nodded, smiling up at the woman.
“What will I do without him?” she whispered.
She began to sob and fell into Ruby’s bosom as the older woman just held her there, rocking back and forth. At some point, she fell asleep, and Ruby nodded at Ghost to take her to the bedroom, where they lay her on the bed. Back in the living room, they sat quietly, staring at all the photos of the two of them together.
“I’ll stay here for a while, Mama,” said Marie. “I don’t want her to wake up alone.”
“Thank you, child,” she smiled. “We’ll make some meals for her so she don’t have to worry about cookin’. I think it’s disgraceful her own neighbors haven’t done that for her.”
“Times are different now, Mama,” said Claudette. “Most of her neighbors are young people who probably have never even been to a funeral before. They don’t know what’s appropriate and what’s not. We’ll manage things for Maggie.”
Ian eyed the small rolltop desk in the corner and then looked back at Irene.
“If you’re wantin’ my permission,” she said, “you got it. I’ll tell her I told you it was okay. We’ve got to find this man John Brown.”
Ian and Ghost looked at the endless amounts of receipts and papers. Apparently, Duckie and Maggie never threw out anything. They had tax receipts from thirty years ago, neatly filed, in paper format, with all the other items they were too afraid to toss.
Placing everything back into the correct folders, they filed things as they were and secured the top of the desk.
“Anything?” asked Claudette.
“Nothing. Just tax receipts, gas receipts, check stubs,” said Ian, shaking his head. “I’d forgotten that Duckie liked a paper check. Everyone else is direct deposit, but he didn’t trust the bank to give him his money.”
“He was definitely old school,” nodded Ghost. He looked around the room and then walked into the kitchen, Ian behind him.
“What are y’all looking for?” asked Irene.
“That,” said Ian, pointing to the wall. “They didn’t like cell phones. They had one that we gave them but only used it if absolutely necessary. They have a wall phone and an answering machine. He looked at the machine, the red light blinking at them. Pushing the button there were several messages of condolence from regulars at the store. Then, there were four messages in a row that interested them most.
Duckie, it’s me, John B. How’d you like it?
Duckie, don’t tell nobody where you got that. I ken get in trouble.
Duckie, you mad at me? Wasn’t it good?
I guess you’re mad ‘bout somethin’. I’ll come see you next week.
“We need to be here when that man arrives to speak to Duckie,” said Ian. “Get someone over here to watch the house and make sure Maggie is alright.”
“On it.”
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3 (Reading here)
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37