DEAD CONNECTION : a novel by Charlie Price

« ROBERT BARRY COMPTON : STREET WARRIOR

THE NEW VOICE

Murray again heard a voice that was different from the others. After his confrontation with the girl, he had been meandering along the side lanes, trying to get rid of his irritation. He went as far as the cemetery boundary and was returning on the next lane when he noticed the sound. He began placing his feet carefully, his sneakers cushioning each step, so that no noise would interfere with his listening.
      He couldn’t tell much. The voice was really faint and muddled with groans or wind or something. He thought he heard “. . . him me . . . fine me . . . plea . . .” A soft wail, like a pet whimpering alone in a car. He wondered if maybe it was from that girl who lived with Mr. Janochek, playing a trick on him. Could she have screwed his mind up, fouled up his receiving? He looked around but saw no sign of her.
      Murray gave up listening and went directly to the Chandler plot to get in contact with Dearly. She started.
      “So, now maybe you have girl trouble, Sugar?”
      “No. It’s nothing like that. She’s the caretaker’s kid and she’s rude and really nosey. I was just wondering if she got in my mind somehow and messed up my connections.”
      “Well, I’m reading you loud and clear.” Murray could see Dearly just like she was right before the crash. She wore this tight purple woolly skirt and sweater and had a pretty linen handkerchief she fiddled with, pulled and twisted in her hands like worry beads. And she was so beautiful with her permed brown hair and red lipstick.
      “How are you going to deal with the holiday vacation?” she asked.
      “I already figured I’d tell Mom I was going to spend a lot of time over at a friend’s house. I don’t think she’ll care. Have you noticed anything strange around here lately?”
      “Like what?”
      “I don’t know. Like a person who isn’t even dead. Or somebody new. Or somebody who’s lost?”
      “I’m pretty sure there’s a lot of lost souls in this place. Your guy James, for example, what’s with him?”
      “No, I mean something really different.”
      “No, honey, can’t say as I have, but I’ll keep an ear open. Don’t worry. Me and Blessed have got this place covered.”
      He always asked Dearly if there was anything he could do for her, and she always said, “Just wildflowers. Every spring, just some wildflowers. Lupine or ceanothus to go with my outfit.”

      Blessed was his next stop. Murray sat down at the side of Blessed’s stone and took a deep breath to help him listen better. She was such a cool girl. He bet if she had lived, she would be a doctor or a college professor by now. He was having a little trouble hearing, so he moved right in front of her headstone and sat down close enough to touch the carved dates.
      “Tell me again. I missed it,” he said, leaning forward a little.
      “I said, I think you should give that girl a chance. She came to see you, you know. How many girls have done that lately?”
      “She’s rude, Blessed. She’s a brat . . . and bossy and looking for a fight.”
      “She seems pretty bright to me. And you know what? I think underneath that attitude, she might be a little lonely and looking for a friend. How many other people spend most of their afternoons in a cemetery?”
      “I don’t need any more friends. I’ve got all of you.”
      “Think it over. You know I’m right.”
      Blessed was always sure of herself. Murray kept seeing her in her hospital gown. He wanted to picture what she wore, like when she went to school, but all he could get were awful loud colors, oranges and lime greens, and blouses covered with tiny amoeba shapes. She liked to chew that sugarless gum. He knew that, and he knew she stuck it under her dining room table at home while her dad was saying the blessing before dinner.
      It was time to ask her.
      “Have you heard anything new around here lately?”
      “You mean a joke or something?”
      “No. I. . . I thought I heard a new person, or a lost person yesterday. . . but it might just have been Janochek’s kid messing with me. I thought I heard someone say ‘him me.’ And then ‘fine me.’ It was pretty faint and kind of garbled. I couldn’t tell if it was an adult or a kid, or even if they were from here.”
      “Huh. Where were you when you heard it?”
      “I don’t know. I mean I was here . . . in the cemetery. I was walking around near the road from the main gate through the front part, kind of on my way to Dearly’s place.”
      “The new part of the cemetery they opened a couple of years ago?”
      “I don’t know when they opened it. It’s the place where they’re putting the people that didn’t have older family plots, I guess.”
      “You think it comes from there?”
      “I don’t know. Maybe.”
      “You should check it out.”
      “You think I should walk by every stone around there and see if I pick anything up?”
      “Up to you, Grunge Puppy!” That got them started, and while they were teasing each other, he decided that tomorrow he would walk very carefully all around that newer section. Get to the bottom of this. Maybe make a new friend.

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