Tracking Evil, a Podcast Pt. 09

She had been taking a break, cleaning and oiling her fathers old Colt 1911 in the back garden when a thought struck her, one of her father's old adages. She remembered the moment clearly, sitting at the kitchen table, worrying at the end of her pencil, small white teeth chewing nervously as she struggled to make sense of an algebraic problem. Her father had been sat across from her, cleaning the same gun she was cleaning now. He'd never been one for mathematics, his presence there purely for support more than any tangible help. As the young Arlene had looked up worriedly from her exercise book, he had put down the gun, spreading his hands on the top of the table, a habit of his when he was about to lay some wisdom down on her.

"When you got yourself a knot, don't go pullin' it apart. Find one end and work on it from there."

Butterman and his murderous spree was one end of this gordian knot and for the moment they had worked that to death. The other end though began with Zahhek, specifically the first death attributed to him. So, while Erica was happily ensconced in the house, full of supplies and with Sondra enroute to provide security, Arlene was off on a road trip.

That's what had led Arlene to driving from her home to a back water town called 'Hog's Meet' in the great state of Alabama. She'd pulled off the interstate about twenty minutes before, her SUV bouncing along rutted back roads till she'd pulled up on the edge of the small town. Some places could be described as a 'one horse town'. If Hog's Meet had ever been vibrant enough to warrant that description, then the horse in question had sickened and died decades before.

About a quarter of the town's buildings were shuttered closed, windows boarded up, paint peeling as neglect rotted the structures away. Typical for any small town, every eye in the street followed the unfamiliar vehicle as Arlene drove slowly down the main street, her head swivelling left and right as she looked for some sign of a local Constable or Sheriff's station.

Nothing.

She pulled into the small gas station, filling her tank up before heading into the little office perched beside the two pumps to pay. An old man, seventy a distant memory to him, sat in a rocking chair beside an antiquated cash register. No chance of paying with her card then. Arlene peeled off a few bills, handing then to the old man who grumbled at the need to stand and make change.

"Could you tell me where the Sheriff's office is?"

"Yup, bout twenty miles east, two towns over." the old man said, dropping a quarter to the ground. She got a full view of his bald pate, dotted and stained with liver spots as creaking and grousing he laboured to stoop down to retrieve it. He wiped the coin on his greasy denim overalls, most likely transferring more dirt to the quarter than it had picked up from the floor. Satisfied he went back to slowly counting out her change.

"Ah." Arlene had expected as much but since she already had copies of the police report, meeting with the current Sherriff wouldn't have helped much, she'd really just hoped to get a few pointers about who to talk to.

"Thank you, sir." she said politely as the old man handed her the change. "Could I ask another question?"

"Ask away, so long as it don't mean I got to stand back up." he replied, sighing as he settled back into his chair.

"I was wondering about the Fowler family. Aaron Fowler died in an accident about fifty years ago, maybe you remember it?"

"Mebbe." he said rocking slightly back and forth in the chair. He had taken on a distant, almost vacant expression, staring out the open door rather than looking at her. Arlene wasn't sure if that was in response to her question or it was just his usual uninterested demeanour, just another crotchety old man with no time for strangers asking questions?

"Well would you be able to tell me something about the family, if any of them still live around here? Or if there was someone close to Aaron who could talk to me? Yourself perhaps, you'd have been about the same age at the time of his death."

"Mebbe." he said once more, eyes flickering towards her and away again.

"Maybe?" Arlene pressed. There was no point identifying herself as a deputy sheriff. First, she was out of her jurisdiction and second knowledge of her job was as likely to close as many mouths as it would open.

"Mebbe... mebbe you should go find someone else to bother young lady. It's time I got me some shut eye." He them promptly closed his eyes tight, leaned his head back and began theatrically snoring.

Arlene knew a dead end when she saw one, she turned on her heel without another word and walked back to her SUV.

Leaning against the side of the vehicle, Arlene shaded her eyes against the midday sun and looked back up the main street she'd driven down. There was a small bar slash café by the looks of it a hundred yards or so away. It even had a small parking lot to the side of it, a few cars and trucks half filling it. 'Mebbe I'll get some help there' she thought wryly, at the very least she'd get herself a bite to eat.

Swinging the SUV around she parked up alongside the nondescript building, a sign across the front of it labelling it as 'The Hogs Trough'. The interior was as bland as the exterior, cheap plastic gingham patterned tablecloths covered the dozen or so small square tables dotted around the main serving area. A bar ran along three quarters of the back wall, a door and open service hatch taking up the other space. Through the hatch Arlene could see part of the kitchen.

There was no one behind the bar and five of the tables were already taken, each with a solitary male sitting at them. Maybe they had chosen to sit at five tables that were closely located in order to converse over the beers in front of them, Arlene wasn't sure. She wasn't sure because the moment she stepped through the door all of the patrons had turned to openly stare at her.

Arlene was used to being looked at but normally it was down to her uniform. In plain clothes she didn't think she'd warrant a second glance. Her build and beautiful red hair were well worth a second, third and fourth glance but Arlene was troubled by a lack of self-esteem. That lack was totally unwarranted but she'd been widowed early and shunned somewhat by potential suitors due to her career, that self esteem issue persisted. She decided that it was just the usual 'stranger alert' that people in smaller, more remote towns seemed to be born with.

With no one at present around to provide service, she took a table nearest the bar and busied herself with her phone to avoid the looks of the five men.

Thankfully, by the time she'd finished her second game of Candy Crush a low murmur of conversation had begun between the other patrons, a third game on her phone and a barman, waitress in tow appeared as well.

"Help ya?" the waitress enquired. She had a careworn appearance, mousey brown hair cut short into a bob, smudges of dark beneath her eyes and a weary step to her walk as she approached the table. She looked fifty but was probably just past thirty, a life of tedium and a lack of joy adding decades to her.

"I'll just have the special, take a water as well please." Arlene answered. She didn't care what happened to be on the menu, she had been snacking during the car ride so she hadn't much of an appetite walking into the place and the feel of this eatery, the vibe from the town itself, hadn't given her a desire to eat either.

The waitress soon returned, Arlene couldn't fault her for speed at least, leaving a club sandwich and a bottle of luke warm water on the table in front of Arlene. Left alone, she tried the sandwich which wasn't half bad, the chicken spiced and the salad crisp, but even so she only finished about half of it before pushing the rest to the side. Arlene beckoned for the waitress who dutifully returned, bill in hand.

Arlene counted out the cash, leaving a generous tip on top of the payment. The waitress noted this and even managed a small smile of appreciation as she began to gather up the plate, bottle and cash.

"Can I ask you a question? Not waiting for a reply, Arlene ploughed ahead, "Would you know anything about the Fowler family, an Aaron Fowler, his wife Judy maybe?"

The waitress, Beth by her nametag, gave the smallest of starts at the question and threw non too subtle looks to either side, taking in the five men still nursing their beers and the barman who was leaning forward on the bar counter.

"Nope sorry, no can do. You have yourself a good day now." Beth said in too loud a voice for the answer to be meant for Arlene alone. With that she darted across the floor, disappearing behind the door that led to the kitchen. Once again Arlene felt herself the object of everyone's attention and it wasn't a comfortable sensation. She rose swiftly, gave a nod to the barman that he failed to acknowledge and left as quickly as she could.

Outside in the small parking lot, Arlene spit noisily onto the ground. The taste of the sandwich had soured in her mouth and she spit a second time, narrowly missing the front tire of her SUV. There was something rotten here, the town fairly reeked of quiet desperation and distrust. Another time and she'd have busted a couple of heads, whatever was needed to find the answers but she was alone here, even the local cops didn't know she was poking around.

She considered for a minute her next move. Summon help because she had an instinct that there were answers to be found in this backwater or try the local sheriff's office first, and see what sort of welcome she got from them. Arlene was still mulling her choices over when she heard the slight crunch of gravel as someone stepped lightly on the uneven surface of the parking lot.

The turn was textbook, Arlene swivelling on her heel, moving into a defensive crouch as her right hand darted to the small of her back, fingers tightening on the butt of her gun. As quickly as she'd reacted, Arlene relaxed as fast. There was no ambush, just Beth the waitress, looking like she wanted to be physically sick as she shuffled her feet nervously.

"Sorry" Arlene said calmly, "you startled me." If she hoped that would be sufficient to calm Beth down, she was mistaken. 'Must have really put the wind up her turning like that' Arlene thought to herself as Beth washed her hands, rubbing her palms together in that all too familiar gesture born of nervousness.

"It's fine, no matter. I jes wanted to apologise for earlier is all." Beth said. Her voice was low now that they were alone and outside and Arlene wasn't sure if she was trying to be inconspicuous or it was just a by product of the fright she'd gotten.

"Nothing to worry about. You couldn't help, it's not a problem."

"Are you one of those debt collectors or somethin' like that, working for the bank maybe?" Beth probed.

"No, nothing like that. I work for an insurance company and we have records of an unclaimed policy in Aaron Fowlers name, only came to light recently because we were uploading all our old paper records onto the company servers." Arlene told the lie smoothly, she hadn't actually prepared a cover story so she was pleasantly surprised how easily the details came to her mind. Must be on account of spending so much time with Erica.

"Well in that case there's no harm in telling you then." Beth said. If there was any relief in finding out that Arlene wasn't a debt agent seeking to collect from the Fowler family, Beth didn't show it in her stance or voice. Arlene figured she was out here without her boss knowing or against his wishes and that was the root of the problem.

"Anything would be a big help." Arlene prompted her nonchalantly, leaning against the side of the vehicle.

"Not much to tell. I never knew Aaron Fowler. He'd passed long before I was born. Judy too, never knew her either. But I did know Aaron's sister, Linda Mae, she used to mind me and my brothers when we were little and my folks were working. She's living up at Seasons End. It's one of those assisted living places, you know for like elderly folk? Anyway, it's only about five minutes the far side of town. Linda Mae Daniels, that's her married name."

"That's a big help, thank you Beth." Arlene reached to pull out some money but the other woman warded off the gesture, shaking her head and backing away.

"Thank you, no." Beth said as she backed up to the rear door of the kitchen, "I gotta go now." She turned and bolted inside the door, closing it firmly but silently behind her.

"Season's End retirement home... Christ that's a depressing name." Arlene muttered to herself as she climbed in and started the engine.

The retirement home was pleasantly... well pleasant. Arlene had half expected to see miserable faces, pleading eyes staring out of wizened wrinkled visages. Instead, the residents seemed happy for the most part, enjoying the weather as a group of them sat outside on a selection of loungers and chairs, chatting amiably to one another.

The caregiver, a thin faced black woman who seemed of an age with Arlene, led her past the contented residents of 'Seasons End' and further back into the large walled garden that surrounded the facility.

"Linda Mae, she came here I guess six or seven years ago. I hadn't started back then but long as I've been here, that's five years now, well she's always been kind of vague." Traci, the caregiver explained as they walked.

Arlene had identified herself as a deputy sheriff, quickly showing her badge. Nobody had asked to examine her credentials and had just assumed she was local. She had said that Linda Mae's name had come up in connection to an old cold case and had been deliberately elusive with details after that. Nobody seemed to care all that much however, Traci volunteering to give Arlene an escort to Linda Mae and providing unasked for background as they walked.

"She will drift in and out of old memories, aint no pattern to it, uh-uh. No, one minute she will be half asleep, next she telling you about a scarf she owned, before you can draw breath, she gone on to talking about a teacher she had in elementary school. It's sad, sad seein' how a mind gets addled like that. God save me from that." Traci quickly blessed herself as she spoke.

"That's our girl there." she said indicating a woman in her late seventies who, while sitting alone, appeared to be having an animated conversation with the thin air. "You want me to introduce you?"

"No. Thanks, you've been great." Arlene said with a smile. Better to have Traci return to her duties than be hovering nearby trying to listen in on Arlene's questions.

Linda Mae reminded Arlene of the grandmother from reruns of the Walton's from the 1970's. Short, white haired and with a crinkly weathered face. Hard lined her face might have been, Arlene speculated that a lot of those wrinkles and crow's feet had been earned through laughter and good humour as Linda Mae beamed a smile of welcome as the Deputy Sheriff approached her.

"You bringing me my lunch then?" Linda Mae wheezed out a chuckle as she spoke.

"Sorry, no." Arlene said spreading her empty hands. "No food, just some questions if you've got some time to spare me?"

"Lord knows I got spare time, how much time, well he aint told me that yet." the old lady said smiling, she patted the empty spot on the bench beside her, inviting Arlene to join her.

"Your maiden name was Fowler, am I right in saying that?" Arlene surreptitiously hit record on her cell phone as she perched herself beside Linda Mae.

"Mmm, Hmm, Linda Mae Fowler that's me, that was me, Linda Mae Daniels after I met my George of course. You ever meet my George?"

"No Ma'am I didn't."

"No expect you wouldn't have. He would have liked you too much which wouldn't have sat to well with me of course." Linda Mae tracked a butterfly that fluttered into sight, watching as it alighted on her knee briefly before carrying on its journey.

"Could I talk to you about your brother? Would that be okay?"

"Where do they go to, butterflies? Beautiful but noisy aren't they. Beating those wings and landing without a by your leave. Noisy and inconsiderate." Arlene watched, concerned as Linda Mae twisted around trying to locate the now disappeared insect.

"Aaron, can we talk about Aaron?"

"Dead, dead and gone. George joined him, Aaron, my ma and pa, George and Judy... all gone, left me behind. Just like the butterfly, left me behind..." the old woman's voice trailed off, her eyes unfocused.

Arlene placed a gentle hand on Linda Mae's, giving her frail hand a reassuring squeeze. The physical touch seemed to draw the old lady back from whatever memory she had slipped away into and once more she found her focus back on Arlene.

"Aaron? You want to talk about him? Why?"

Arlene could have lied but it wasn't in her nature and besides she saw in Linda Mae a kindred spirit, two women who had lost their loves and missed them daily.

"I want to talk about Aaron because there was a chance that what happened to him wasn't an accident."

"Judy, Judy always said the same thing. Poor girl. Aaron was my little brother, such a sweet boy. Good natured, kind. Growing up round here, that wasn't a plus. He wasn't soft though, just soft hearted. Judy saw the changes but she couldn't imagine him killing himself. Who wants to think on something like that?"

"Changes?" Arlene prompted Linda Mae gently. She didn't know how long the older woman would stay focused like this, not long probably if Traci's assessment had been accurate.

"After the war. He did a tour in Vietnam. Came home without a scratch but I could tell. Something died inside him over there. The beautiful boy that left never came home. Just another casualty..."

Arlene didn't want to press on this too much, her own father had been a veteran and she had seen the way combat had taken its toll on him and his comrades. She could easily imagine the hurt a sensitive soul like Aaron appeared to have been would have carried.

"But Judy didn't think he would hurt himself?"

"No, but they were just married. What bride thinks her husband could be unhappy? And they were a beautiful couple. He was handsome, but Judy... she was like a movie star, gorgeous and totally in love with my little brother."

Linda Mae looked upset now, the old painful memories were obviously not ones she enjoyed revisiting, so Arlene decided she'd cut things short.

"Just one more question, then I'll go check and see where your lunch is. How does that sound?"

Linda Mae nodded, some of the tension leaving her hunched shoulders and neck. "Ask then."

"Can you think of anyone who would have wanted to hurt your brother?"

"No, no, no, no. I told you. I told you; he was such a sweet boy. Everyone liked him. No, nobody would have hurt him."

"Thank you for you time Linda Mae." Arlene said, getting up from the bench and patting her comfortingly on her thin shoulder. Arlene started to walk back towards the main residence, opening up her phone to stop the recording.

"That boy, that boy who was always looking at Judy. She always felt uncomfortable around him. Now he would have hurt her maybe but not my Aaron, no he wasn't man enough to hurt my Aaron."

Arlene turned at the words, quickly returning to take a knee in front of the old woman, trying to hold her eye, to keep her focused.

"What boy? Someone who hurt Judy?"

"No, Judy died some time ago. Broken heart, she never recovered. Aaron killed them both when he died, his body and her spirit. The only mean hearted thing he ever did was taking himself off to heaven and leaving us all behind without him."

"But the boy, you said something about a boy who was always looking at Judy?"

"Him? Oh yes. I forget his name now. Skinny thing, always creeping around. Younger than me, younger than Aaron and Judy both but always there, looking on. What was his name? Oh, I can't remember. Just another annoying insect, like that butterfly. Coming and going without permission, looking in windows and flying away. Damned butterfly."