Turner Omnibus by James Sallis

Author:James Sallis
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

MOST OF THE TOWN, what was left of the town, came to Billy’s funeral. Mayor Sims gave a eulogy that had to have set a record for the most clichés delivered in any three-minute period, Brother Davis prayed, preached, and strode about with one or both hands raised, and toward the end Doc Oldham let out a fart that made people jump in the pews; when they turned to look, he himself turned, staring in disapproval at widow Trachtenburg there beside him.

Throughout, Lonnie sat quietly inside his dark brown suit as though it might be holding him upright and in place. June kept looking up, to the ceiling, and down, at the floor—anywhere but into her father’s or other eyes.

There had been another hard rain, though this time without the dramatics, and the cemetery outside town had gone to bog, pallbearers slipping on wet grass, mud halfway up shoes and over the top of some, folding chairs sinking leg by leg into the ground.

I spent the afternoon with Lonnie and the family. Greeted visitors, poured gallons of lemonade and iced tea, helped with the cleanup once the last stragglers strayed onto the front porch and away.

Afterward, Lonnie and I sat together on the porch. He’d brought out a bottle of bourbon, but neither of us had much of a taste for it. He was looking at the tongue-and-groove floor we’d spent most of a week putting down the summer before.

“Hell of a mess out here,” he said.

“In there, too.” So much mud had been tracked from the cemetery, the porch floor could have been of dirt rather than wood. Lonnie was still wearing his suit. It didn’t look any fresher than he did.

He asked if I’d heard any more on the old lady, Miss Chorley, who was recovering but, from the look of things, headed for a nursing home.

“Lived on that land, in that house, all her life,” he said, “and now she gets shipped off some place where they’ll prop her up in front of the TV, dole out crackers or cookies every day at two o’clock, and cluck their tongues when she complains. No family, so the county will end up taking the house.”

He looked down again.

“Nothing right about it, Turner. Person gets through even an average life here on this earth, never mind a long one—they deserve better. Sitting in some brightly lit place with powdered egg or applesauce running down your front, can’t even decide for yourself when you’re going to pee.”

I had nothing to say to that. He scuffed at the crust of dried mud there by his chair and after a moment asked, “Staying in town again tonight?”

“Thought I’d head back home, see if it’s still there.”

“Might want to take food, water, emergency supplies. A native guide.”

“Hey, I’ve got the Jeep. Which, now that I mention it, since you’re back on the job, you should reclaim.”

“I’m not on the job, Turner. I don’t want to be sheriff anymore. I’m not sure I want to be much of anything anymore.

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