The Best Night of the Year
By Gerald Dean Rice
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2011 Razorline Press
Smashwords
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Mona copyright © 2009
The Best Night of the Year © 2009
All stories written by Gerald Dean Rice. All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, places or events is purely coincidental and unintended. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical or written, without express permission from the author.
For more information about the author, please visit his website: www.feelmyghost.webs.com, the Gerald Rice Fan Page on Facebook, or follow his tweets @GeraldRice.
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Mona
“Explain again why we’re at Mona’s place?” Leo Wendell asked. “I still don’t get it.” He took another pull from his coffee hoping his stomach would settle.
“Dell, what did you put in there?” Carl asked, pulling into the gravel driveway.
“Two shots of Kao. One of JB.” Wendell opened his eyes and this time the inside of the cruiser didn’t spin.
Wendell eased out of the passenger seat of the cruiser. Carl slipped out from behind the wheel and draped his lanky frame over the roof of the car, and then sighed at the other deputy.
“Will you pour that out already?”
“Hold up.” Wendell tipped the cup upside down and guzzled the rest of the concoction. Last night had not been good. It was a year today since Mary left and he had wanted to be unconscious for the whole 24-hour period. He had failed at that too. He tossed the empty cup into the street and let out a large belch. Much better. “Let’s roll.”
“You didn’t grow up around here, so you wouldn’t know. I’ll give you the short version.” The two deputies shut their doors and began walking to the porch, day-old snow crunching under foot. “The last eight generations of Echols women killed the man of the house; all of them on the Halloween after their 40th birthday.”
Wendell snorted. “Aw, c’mon, are we out here on the strength of some old wives’ tale?”
Carl gave him a look.
“No. Documented fact. I was a little kid when Mona’s mother took a hot fryin’ pan and went upside her boyfriend’s head. My daddy was one of the deputies called to the house and he saw with his own eyes what she did to him. Flattened the back of his skull.”
Wendell only shook his head as they climbed the porch steps.
“All we need to do is go in, check everything from top to bottom and make our way over to the party by 9. I suggest you spend the time gettin’ that-which-you-should-not-have-drunk-last-night off your breath.”
“Yeah. I got some mints in the car.”
Carl swung open the rickety screen door and knocked.
“Sure is cold,” Wendell said. “Can’t remember the last time we got a snow this early.”
“Yeah, the weather ain’t the only thing strange this time a’ year. You’ll learn that quick you stick around long enough.”
Carl knocked again.
“C’mon, I know you’re home, Mona. You never go nowhere.”
There was a heavy footstep from somewhere inside. Both men cocked their heads and listened. Eventually came another, then another, as if the person were building up momentum. The footfalls stopped behind the door.
After several clicks and slides of locks, Mona’s front door creaked open a sliver.
“Evenin’, Sheriff.” They could see part of her face, but she stood mostly behind the door.
“Now, Mona, you know I’m not the sheriff,” Carl said. “I’m only a deputy.” Carl put his hat in his hands and fumbled with the edges.
“That humility act looks water-thin from in here. I’m just sittin’ down to supper. What do you boys want?”
“I’ll shoot you straight, Mona. Everybody in town knows what’s gone on in this house in years prior. I ain’t sayin’ that includes you, but you did turn 40 back in January and, well … I’d like to give you proper opportunity to prove everyone wrong.”
“Shoot me straight?” Mona’s eye was locked on Carl. “How long did you practice that speech, Sheriff?”
“I don’t know what you mean.” Carl looked nervous.
“Election’s next year, Sheriff. ‘Sides, what do I care about provin’ everybody wrong? Everybody can eat a log so far as I care.” Carl shoved his foot into the wedge of doorway before Mona could shut it.
“Now Mona, you know we’re comin’ in there. Foregone conclusion. If you don’t have anything to hide, then you don’t have a problem with me comin’ in.”
Mona had an almost scared look. Wendell couldn’t see Carl’s face; his wide back was to him.
“You can’t just barge in people’s houses. I know my amendments. I ain’t done nothin’ illegal.”
“Well, there’s illegal and then there’s illegal. Who’s to say Wendell and me didn’t hear someone in distress? It’d be our duty to come inside.” Carl looked over his shoulder at Wendell. The chill in his eye, more so than the cold biting Wendell’s ears, had a sobering effect. He shifted his feet, tapping his pinky on the sip of something in his pocket.
“You mean the town drunk in trainin’? My reputation in this town is spotless. I ain’t even had so much as a parkin’ ticket.”
“Not when it comes to this, Mona. And you know it. All anybody will say is the police came out to her place and she wouldn’t let ‘em in. ‘Why?’ everyone will ask. They all know what your mama did. And her mama. And her mama. So on and so forth, like ‘at. You’re already guilty by virtue of your last name.”
Carl stepped back, his thumbs in his belt and flexing his skinny arms like wings on some giant flightless bird. Wendell guessed he was right proud of himself.
Mona dropped her head and said something under her breath. She shut her door and slid the chain off.
“Come on and let’s get this finished. I was just eatin’ my supper.” She walked out of view.
“You really runnin’ for sheriff next year?” Wendell asked.
“Hush up with that.” Carl craned his neck like he was checking to see if she’d heard. He crossed the threshold and waved the other deputy after him.
It was dark inside once Wendell shut the door. They could barely see save for the light leaking around the shut kitchen door. They both bumped into things and Wendell stumbled over what felt mushy and small, almost knocking Carl over.
“Watch it, will you!”
“H-hey, Ms. Mona–could we get a light? Ms. Mona?”
A naked bulb clicked on with Mona standing underneath holding the string. Wendell yelped at the harsh face staring up at him, the angry twisted mouth, her giant dark-brown eyes like two stones dropped into a barren field.
If she tried she might be halfway good-lookin’, he thought when his heart finally slowed.
“I s’pose we can start in the kitchen. I can finish while you snoop around.”
“No,” Carl said. “No. How about we start upstairs?”
“I s’pose.” Mona rolled her eyes.
The stairs squeaked. Wendell thought he might collapse through and wind up somewhere in the basement, but they held under his bulk. He caught a glimpse of Mona’s backside swaying back and forth in front of Carl on the way up the stairs. Nice. She turned on the light at the top of the stairs and her body silhouetted beneath the blue muumuu.