Harper radioed information to a blue and white patrol car waiting further along Northmount Drive.
They stopped at the lights on 14th Street.
The light turned green. Beth led them through the intersection. Harper pointed at the strip mall on the south side of Northmount. A police cruiser waited in the parking lot.
“There she is.”
The blue and white accelerated out of the parking lot. The cruiser’s overhead lights flashed. The siren sounded. Beth pulled over. The V Channel van parked behind her. The cruiser stopped and an officer stepped out, made eye contact with Harper and nodded. Harper nodded back. “We’re gonna owe her big time. The reporter’s gonna give her an earful.”
“And she’ll enjoy every minute of it. Writing up tickets for reporters was always fun.” Lane passed Beth and she followed. Northmount curved south and out of the V Channel van’s line of sight. Lane turned left up a hill. He looked in the mirror. She was there.
Beth smiled, recalling the look on the face of the camera man. The moment he realized the police officer was stopping him, the camera man had mouthed one four letter word.
The air flowing in through her open window made the heat bearable. Beth followed Lane’s grey Chev past a no dogs sign, through the gate to Queen’s Park Cemetery and along the pavement running between two rows of evergreens. The road tipped down into the valley. The Chev’s brake lights came on and Lane pulled to the side of the road. Beth stopped two car lengths behind.
“I think he wants you to pull alongside,” Ernie said.
Beth spotted Lane’s left hand waving them ahead. Her nerves tingled. “Damn steering.” She heaved on the wheel and stopped next to the unmarked car. “Thanks for getting rid of the TV crew.”
Lane jerked his right thumb in his partner’s direction. “He did it.”
Harper leaned forward and smiled.
“Randy told me to park over there.” Lane pointed at the oblong concrete structure to the right. “He wants you to follow that road to the left and he’ll meet you in Section J, Block 25.”
“Section J, Block 25,” Beth said. She released the brake and turned left. Within 100 meters, they spotted a yellow tractor with its bucket scooping earth. The operator sat up top while another man shoveled soil over a fresh grave.
“What’s Randy look like now?” Ernie said.
Beth saw that Scout had her chin on Ernie’s right shoulder. The dog licked the breeze with her tongue. “Looks something like one of those guys on the cover of a magazine. You knew him when you were little.”
Ernie smiled at his Mother’s description of Randy.
Embarrassment rose up Beth’s neck.
Gravestones came close to the edge of the road on either side. Ahead, an artillery piece was aimed at the center of town.
They passed through an intersection and the road curved to the right.
The slope was dotted with willows whose lazy limbs brushed headstones. Near the graves, peonies sprouted in pinks and reds.
“Creepy,” Beth said.
“Kind of pretty,” Ernie said.
They passed a squat, green vehicle with John Deere and Gator stamped on its sides. A blue cooler sat in the back of the Gator.
“That him?” Ernie pointed at a man in a red hard hat guiding a weed whacker through the long grass around the base of a tree. Randy looked up. The gas engine slowed to idle and sputtered before stopping. Leaning the weed trimmer against his ribs, Randy pulled at ear plugs.
Beth stopped. “That’s him.”
Randy smiled and waved.
Scout barked.
Ernie opened his door.
Scout jumped over the back seat, onto Ernie’s lap and outside. “Scout!” Beth said as she shut off the engine.
A gopher ran and hopped across the pavement. Scout pounded along behind.
The gopher disappeared down a hole. Another gopher whistled. Scout raced from one hole to the next.
Randy strolled closer. “She’s okay. Let her run. Not many people around this time of day.”
“You sure?” Beth watched the dog stick its nose down a hole.
“Will she stay close?” Randy said.
“Always keeps us in sight.”
“Then, there’s no problem.” Randy moved to the Gator and set the weed trimmer in the back. “Ernie? Help me with this, will you?” Randy grabbed one of the cooler’s handles and waited.
Ernie grabbed the other handle. They walked across the grass with the cooler between them. Beth followed to a bench speckled by the shade of an elm. I hope this will help Ernie, she thought.
“Time for lunch,” Randy said. They set the cooler down by the bench.
“We didn’t come for a picnic,” Beth said.
“The truth tastes better with good food. Ernesto told me that when I first came here. I thought he was crazy. He found out I wasn’t bringing a lunch, so he brought one for me. He fed me and then he listened when I started to talk. Now it’s my turn to return the favour. You came here to find out what I know and I’ll tell you but it’s important to eat.” Randy lifted the lid of the cooler. “Want a pop?”
“Sure.” Ernie accepted a can and pulled back the tab.
“Beth?” Randy said.
“Please.” She rolled the can’s cool surface across her forehead and sat on the end of the bench.
“Sandwich?” Randy gave each a cellophane wrapped bun. “Hope you like cheese, lettuce and pastrami.
“Our last meal?” Beth said.
“Or your first.” Randy sat down and leaned his back against the trunk of the elm.
“I’m not really hungry.” Ernie sipped his pop.
“After Bob was through with you, one of the emotions you felt was helplessness. Helplessness because someone took control of your life and there wasn’t much you could do about it.”
Ernie said, “How did you know?”
“I’ve been there. Now you have a choice. I’m asking you to eat. All you have to do is listen. You can get up and leave any time you want or you can sit, eat and listen.”
Ernie crossed his ankles and sat. He put the pop between his legs, unwrapped the end of the bun and took a bite.
Randy lifted his pop. “Ernesto came here the morning Bob attacked you. It was a Tuesday?”
“Yes,” Ernie said.
Beth nodded and realized how hungry she was when she bit into the bun and tasted fresh baked bread.
“Ernesto was driving a Lincoln. Helen was in the passenger seat. He didn’t see me. It was coffee time and I was leaning up against this tree. You get to know someone real well when you work alongside him day after day. The way Ernesto moved when he got out of the car, I could tell there was something wrong. There was something about his posture. And he didn’t usually show up at that time of day.” Randy took another sip. “See those two willows?” He pointed at a pair of trees with white limbs and leaves hanging close to the ground. “The backhoe was down there. See the large headstone in black? The one shaped like a cross.”
Beth and Ernie looked down over the tops of rows of gravestones and into the valley. One headstone stood out among the others. It was under a hill of fresh earth dotted with Canadian and American flags.
Randy said, “One of the other guys had just about finished up the hole but was gone for coffee. Ernesto was real careful to back the car up close to the hole. Then he climbed into the backhoe and started digging. I wondered why he went so deep. It all made sense when he eased the backhoe’s bucket over to the rear of the Lincoln. He got down off the tractor, pulled a rope out of the trunk and tied it to the bucket. It was kind of slick the way he used the bucket to lift the body out of the trunk. For a moment it just hung there. Even from up here I could see the dead guy’s fly was open. Ernesto eased the body into the bottom of the hole, climbed out of the cab and cut the rope. He pulled a couple of bags out of the trunk and a big sheet of plastic. He dumped the bags into the hole. Then he refilled part of it and used the bucket to flatten the bottom. That way nobody would know what he’d done. The backhoe operator joked later on about how one hole had dug itself. He looked at me like I’d played a practical joke on him. I played along.”