Dring-ring-ring the brass bell tolled above the café door. It swung hard and with a slap ricocheted off the woodpaneled wall.
Mary-Ann barged out of the kitchen, “Y’all know what I’ve said about slammin’ the damn—Johnson, you look terrible, dear. Wha’s matter?”
The town old timer chimed in with the last reverberations from the bell. “Why I reckon he’s seen a ghost.”
Johnson stumbled in and collapsed on to a stool, his large chest collapsing upon the counter. His eyes were all bleary and blood-shot. “It’s my gal, Susie-Jean, I ain’t seen her know where’s!”
Mary-Ann set a thick slice of apple pie on the counter along with a cup o’ Joe.
“’S on the house, dear. Now tell me, where’ja las see her?”
“This night makes it over three days! I haven’t heard a peep from her. She ain’t comin’ to her door, she ain’t returnin’ my calls. We’s gone to church together Sunday morning. Then she say’s she’s got an errand needs tending. I says’ that’s no trouble le’s get to it. She declines and there’s something queer, but I hold my peace. I’ve been reliving that moment now for three straight days.” Johnson, youthful and jittery, had been seeing Susie-Jean long enough things were getting serious.
“I reckon tha’s par for the course,” the old timer said.
“What you mean by that?” Johnson said, his face darkening from pink to crimson.
“Now you keep that trap your’s shut, Leroy,” Mary-Ann scowled.
“Yes, Ma’am,” Leroy said and drew out some tobacco and started to roll a cigarette.
Mary-Ann continued to glare.
Leroy protested softly, “I ain’t mean nothing nasty. I swears it, Mary-Ann. You’s know what I’m talking about, portents of evil, tha’s all.”
Johnson jumped up from the stool. “What you suggesting by that?”
“Now you settle down boys!” Mary-Ann broken in, “Ya’ hear me? And suns setting, what’s this rucus gonna bring? A duel in the dark?”
“On Susie-Jean’s honor!” Johnson’s voice reached an unnecessarily high pitch and his voice was cracking.
Leroy, the old timer, had finished rolling his cigarette and was searching his pockets for a light. “Listen son, ya got the jitters, your lass gone missing, and le’s not pretend the town don’t know about her derlict ex-fiancé.”
Johnson put his hand to his belt.
“Rather then given me a shot of lead, how ‘bout a light?” Leroy said.
Johnson stood still. Leroy continued, “All’s I’m saying is she’s one that trouble comes to. Like vultures—"
“Like bees to a flower!” Mary-Ann interjected.
“Ah, yes, bees and flowers,” Leroy agreed.
Johnson procured his lighter and Leroy lit up. “Thanks son. Now here’s my prop’sition. Le’s you and I go investigate and see if there’s any stake in your alarm before we go pluggin’ any towns folk just trying to help? Sound good?”
“Right, right,” Johnson agreed. “That’d be much appreciated.”
“Well’s like Mary-Ann says, sun’s settin’, le’s trek up to her place and see if all’s a’right.”
Up the road a mile and round an ancient copse was Susie-Jean’s old two-story with an attached porch and the paint chipping.
“Haven’t been round this house since her parents passed. Place could use a fresh coat, you planning to move in when the knots tied?”
“Tha’s the plan. Paints in the planning too, mind you,” Johnson said.
“Right, now the nights’ve been cold. Any smoke coming out that chimney these past three days?”
“Stone cold.”
Leroy rubbed his grizzly stubble and spat. Along the road he had exchanged a smoke for a chew. “Right.” He spat again. “All the lights dark, them all been dark these three nights?”
Johnson was quiet.
“Come on now, Johnson. Don’t get shy on me now, she’s been silent for three days and you’re worried about being accused as some peepin’ Tom.”
“I come las’ night,’ Johnson broke, “it was all dark then too.”
“Damn.” Leroy spat.
“What!” Johnson croaked.
“Plain and simple, way I see it, she’s gone or dead.”
‘Well she ain’t got no place to go,” Johnson pleaded.
“Well, she ain’t got many options left then there does she, Mr. Johnson.”
“By-gollie Leroy, you gonna help me or just bust my chops!?”
Leroy removed his hat. “Lord bless her, and forgive me if I spoke any ill of her.” He put his hat back on and fished a flask from his vest. “Here Johnson, you take a good long pull on this. You’re gonna need it.”
Johnson, jittery from the caffeine in the evening, slugged down half the contents in the flask.
“Ready?”
“Ready.”
“Alrigh’,” Leroy said, “Le’s go.”
They walked up to the front porch. “Damn, there’s an odor!” Leroy exhaled. “You ain’t smelled that las’ night?” he asked as he banged on the door.
“Not during the day when I’s come up to the door, and las’ night I only looked from afar, on my honor.”
“Hell with it. Susie-Jean! We’re coming in!” Leroy shouted as he pried the door ajar.
There in the foyer lay the corpse of Susie-Jean full of lead and a wedding band on her finger and her derelict ex-fiancé with half his skull blown out lying next to her—a matching wedding band on a finger that still clung to a revolver.
For another Flash Fiction by C. M. Setledge check out:
Ooof a punch to poor old Johnson's gut!
I really enjoyed this - it was incredibly compelling.
Leroy is a legend!