Death Drives A Chevy

Death Drives a Chevy

By J.A. Sprouls

Copyright J.A. Sprouls 2014

Cover Design Copyright J.A. Sprouls 2014

Published by J.A. Sprouls at Smashwords

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http://jasprouls.blogspot.com/

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

Dedicated to my Mother, Sister,

Amazing Grace

For always being there!

~~~~~~

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Epilogue

The Séance

About the Author

~~~~~~~

Prologue

A lot of things go through a person's mind at a time like this. For Mavis Olsteen it was the hood ornament of a classic Bel Air that went through her mind first off and then it sent her flying. The last thought she had was of a memory: 'Take my word for it, Mavis Olsteen, if you don't stop this, and I mean now, it's gonna be the last thing you ever do.' This memory ticked Mavis off. Not because it had sounded like a threat, she had heard a good many threats over the years, but because it proved that someone else was actually right about something. Mavis had always taken pride in being the town know-it-all, and she reveled in being right all the time. But since someone else was right then that meant Mavis had been wrong. Piddle. Here her time was up on this earth and it ended with her being not just wrong about something, but being big whopping wrong. She knew deep down inside that the town would never forget this. She supposed it was good she was dead because the town would have never let her live this down.

Mavis suddenly felt light as if she were floating. Sure enough, she was floating above her body looking down on it. Her first thought: yea, I'm gonna meet my maker. I always knew I would be headed onward and upward. Her second thought: I think the nightshirt makes my fanny look big. Though that couldn't help but be noticed since when she landed, she landed with her butt sticking up in the air and the rest of her body looked as though it was kneeling in tribute to an unseen someone or something.

The Bel Air, on the other hand, was abandoned beside the curb. The driver-side door was open and you could hear the sound of the 'key in ignition' tone chiming with a regular incessant bell. Mavis looked around to see who had been driving but she couldn't see anyone. It wasn't due to the fact that it was almost midnight but more because there were too many people to choose from. The town square was suddenly alive with the town's population. They were all making their way cautiously over to Mavis' body looking curiously at it.

One person walked right up to her and nudged her body with the toe of his boot.

Luther, what the heck are you doing? You don't know where that body has been. Who knows what germs you're contaminating your boot with, Celia scolded.

I'm checking to see if she's still alive. I think she moved a little when I nudged her, Luther said loud enough for the gathering crowd to hear.

You mean she might still be alive. We really should do something, Celia said. She was wringing her hands and looking around as if an ambulance would suddenly appear.

You're absolutely right, Celia. Someone kick her hard enough to finish the job.

Frank, I can't believe you would say such a thing. She is a human being and deserves to be treated as such, Celia said, a little shocked at the brazenness of his statement.

That would mean we would be treating her better than she ever treated any of us, Frank retorted.

The crowd was all nodding in agreement with his statement.

Anyone happen to see who did it? Celia asked.

Nobody said anything. Frank finally broke the silence by saying, Pete Paulinteen ain't gonna be happy that someone hit her with his car. He loves that car. If there's one scratch on it then the driver had better hope he doesn't find out who did it.

Maybe Mavis stole the car for a joy ride and wrecked it in a way that her body was thrown out of the driver's seat and onto the sidewalk, an older gentleman offered.

Works for me. All those in favor of accepting this as to what happened, raise your hand, Frank said.

Frank, you can't take a consensus over a murder. It's falsifying facts, Celia huffed. She was getting rather annoyed with Frank over his lack of bereavement over a person's death.

Everyone in the crowd raised their hands. Celia put her hands on her ample hips and glared the town citizens down.

Aw, come on now Celia, no one liked her. She treated everyone like dirt and spread all sorts of gossip around about everyone in town, most of which wasn't true. There's not a single soul here that's sorry to see her go. So the way I look at it; that means they did the town a favor. So why punish that person for beautifying the town and making it a much nicer place to live? Why it'd be an insult to go and jail a person for doing such a positive thing? It's like when you don't send a 'thank you' note to your grandma for the lovely house slippers she knitted for you. It would just be plain rude to go and arrest a person for this wonderful thing, Frank explained.

There was a murmur of consent. But Celia was having none of it. Breaking the law is breaking the law. What's the point of having laws if we allow someone to break them just because we didn't like the victim? Celia argued.

It's a moot point, Celia. There ain't anyone in this town that wasn't negatively affected by her lies and gossip. No one is going to try too hard to find the killer and it'll just end up another unsolved case. You know darn well the police will not try to solve it. Not after that fiasco, she caused with her rumors about the force hooking up with some hookers. So why not accept the accident theory and be done with it? Frank asked.

Because we are civilized people. It's what civilized people do Celia replied.

Speak for yourself, Frank's wife replied as she stared pointedly at her husband.

Watch it, woman, Frank's tone hardened.

There is one person who was never affected by her gossip or her lies. I say we get her to investigate the murder, and yes, it was murder. All those in favor, raise your hands, Celia shouted.

Reluctantly the town, which had been guilted into reacting by Celia, all raised their hands.

Mavis was a little smug that the town would now have to investigate the murder. She knew they would soon learn that she never spread anything but the gospel truth and maybe a little manure during spring planting. It was about that time that the shadows around Mavis began moving. Suddenly the shadows took form and grabbed Mavis dragging her down. Mavis was confused, why would the shadows come for her? She was supposed to go upward to see her maker. Then the thought dawned on her; maybe the town was right, that she wasn't the nicest of people. Mavis would have gasped if she had had a breath left in her body. Surely, a good Christian such as her would go to heaven. But the shadows kept dragging her downward. Mavis' last thought before meeting her real maker: Hell.

Exactly, Mavis, exactly.

~~~~~~

Chapter 1

I was lying in bed trying to decide if I wanted to get up or not. This was officially my first day of retirement and I thought I really should enjoy it. After all, isn't the one thing everyone says they will do when they retire is sleep late? But I couldn't just allow all those years of waking up early to be forgotten. I had been so relieved to have finished moving into my new place, in a new town. Why shouldn't I relax and take things slow?

As it turned out, I didn't have to make the decision, it was made for me. The telephone rang and broke up any argument I was having with myself.

Jemma, I didn't wake you, did I? Celia asked knowing darn well she had.

Actually I was just getting up, is there a problem, Celia? I asked not really caring if there was one or not. Celia lived next door to me and was the only one in town I had the opportunity to meet. She was a formidable woman who was tall and hefty but she couldn't be called fat. She was more along the lines of a tall stocky man and very much of a delicate female. I'm sure this stature caused health problems because she had trouble walking. She had mentioned she had her knees replaced and that was the reason she used a cane to walk. But it was her personality that was far more dominant and I knew from the very get-go she was someone you didn't refuse.

Someone killed Mavis last night. You wouldn't have known her because you're so new to town but no one liked her. The list of suspects is pretty much the entire town population. The town voted to make it just an unfortunate accident but I knew it was murder and so I knew someone had to investigate it, Celia explained without drawing so much as a breath.

What has that got to do with me? I'm probably the only one who didn't have a reason to kill her. And what do you mean the town took a vote and decided it should be ruled an accident? Could a town even do that?

Well, actually they wanted to say that Mavis stole an old Bel Air and took it for a joyride and then got into an accident that caused her to be thrown from the car in a manner that looked as though she had actually been hit by the car. Everyone figured that whoever hit her did the town a favor and so they shouldn't be punished. But I felt it was important that we get the killer seeing as to how they just might kill again. But it was pointed out that no one, not even the police would try too hard to solve it. I offered the chance to have someone who had no ill feelings toward Mavis investigate the murder. So how about it? Celia asked hopefully.

How about what? I asked right back.

How about you solve the murder? You're a smart thinker, I knew that the moment I met you and it needs to be someone smart and who has no ties to the town or animosity towards Mavis. I'm afraid that pretty much leaves you and you alone, Celia said slightly apologetically.

Fine! The owner of the car that struck her is the killer. How hard was that? I told her.

Don't be ridiculous, it couldn't have been Pete Paulinteen. He hasn't driven in years. He's legally blind, you know, Celia informed me.

No, I didn't know that. Remember, I don't know anyone in town except you, I said in hopes of jogging her memory.

Oh I know that, it's just the murder has scrambled my brains for the moment, she said, a little frustrated. Actually, in the short amount of time, I had spent getting to know her I knew that her brains were in a perpetual state of scramble.

Why would someone steal his car to kill Mavis with? I asked. I knew if I didn't ask something I just might say something that could offend Celia, or scrambled eggs and since I had planned on having eggs for breakfast I felt it best not to offend them for fear of them turning on me.

Because he would be the least likely to miss it, I figure, as opposed to someone who can actually see that their car is missing. Okay, that would be the obvious reason. But I wasn't going to give up.

I don't know the first thing about solving a murder Celia. Even if I did, why would I even want to? It sounds like the town won't cooperate and that it would be a waste of my time, I pointed out.

You're retired, what else have you got to do? Besides, it would be a way to get to know the town folks. You did say you would like to get to know them better and that was the reason you wanted to retire to a small town, fewer people to get to know, and that you would get to know them better than you would anyone in a big town. I also noticed that you read a lot of mysteries. So I think you probably learned a thing or two about solving them from those books. So how about it? Celia asked again.

Let me think about this. Being new in town would mean that others wouldn't like me nosing into their business. And if Mavis was as disliked as you say then they might really resent my poking around and trying to pin a murder on one of them, I informed her.

There was silence on the line for a few moments before Celia said, Okay, but we need you to start looking for the killer soon, she said with a sense of urgency.

I understand that, but I think it can wait until I at least have breakfast, I pointed out.

Oh, why yes, by all means, eat breakfast, I was afraid you meant you might take a few weeks to decide and I knew the trail would be cold by then, Celia explained. She rang off and I got out of bed and showered.

As soon as I finished breakfast I sat there. I had absolutely nothing planned for the day and no hopes of having something develop, other than the murder. Piddle, I guess that means I'll have to try and solve the stupid murder. Oh, well, if I don't manage to figure out who did it, then I am pretty sure the town won't hold it against me, at least not from what Celia had told me.

I called her back after my second cup of coffee and asked her just where I should begin and who I should question.

Oh, like I said, the whole town is full of suspects. So I figure you would need to question all of them, Celia said.

The whole town? Isn't that asking a bit too much? I exclaimed.

Yes, I suppose so, but it is a small town and there aren't too many people who live here. So it wouldn't be like living in a large city and having to question all of them. Besides, if you find the killer right off then you won't have to question but a few of them. So it shouldn't be that hard. All you have to do is question the killer early on, she explained.

But how the heck am I supposed to know who the killer is and that I should be questioning them at the start? This seemed like a totally logical thing to figure on. Though I have to admit, I was learning, with Celia, logic didn't always come into play. Yes, I suppose you wouldn't know that, unless you are psychic, Celia replied.

Well, I'm not psychic and so I have no idea who committed the crime. That means I'll have to talk with everyone, I guess, I sighed.

You could start with Reverend Legate. He knows pretty much everyone in town. I suppose he's baptized most of them, except, of course, the sinners and atheists. He doesn't like either of them to sully the reputation of his church. I don't know how many sinners and atheists we have in town but I'm sure it isn't too many. Hey, maybe you should start with them. I mean, obviously, the murderer wasn't a good God-fearing, respectable person. I'm pretty sure it would have to have been a sinner who did such a foul deed, Celia pointed out.

Yes, but wouldn't the act of murder make whoever did it a sinner, even if they weren't one, to begin with? I know that a good many Christians have murdered in the past so I don't think we can rule out everyone who goes to church and just focus on the non-churchgoers, I told her.

She sighed and said, Yes, I suppose that could be said of the killer. But I do want the killer to be someone who I haven't shared a pew with. It would make it so much easier that way. It would also make condemning them easier too.

Just where can I find the good Reverend? I asked, hoping to get her mind off of sinners and atheists.

Oh, he'll be down by the creek bed practicing for his Sunday sermon, Celia informed me.

Creek bed? This is West Texas, I didn't think we had any creeks or rivers or lakes or anything else that was associated with water.

It's not a real creek bed. It's just a place where it looks like a creek bed. Actually, I think kids riding their dirt bikes created it but it sounds so much more classy to say creek bed than to say dirt bike trail, doesn't it? Celia asked.

Yes, I suppose so. Just where is this creek bed? I asked.

North of town, close to the garbage dump. If you have a sensitive nose you might want to hang a room deodorizer around your neck. It helps to cut through the smell, Celia informed me.

I'm not sure I want to know the answer to this but, just how do you know this? And why would the Reverend go there of all places to practice a sermon? I would think he would use his church, I asked uneasily.

Oh, sometimes I go and listen to get a preview of the Sunday sermon. I've found the plastic ones that are domed in shape to be the best at cutting the odor. The Reverend feels that you shouldn't always experience the comforts life has to offer. He feels one must suffer to truly understand the less fortunate. So he figures that this is one way to suffer, Celia explained.

Oh, I see, sort of like self-flagellation only without the whips and the welts, I said.

Exactly, well, you have fun and be careful. Remember at some point you will be interviewing a murderer, so watch out for yourself, Celia said cheerily as if I was off on some fun excursion.

~~~~~~

Chapter 2

I managed to find the dump with no problems, I just followed my nose. Celia was right, the odor was rather overwhelming but I'd be danged if I was going to go walking around with a room deodorizer hanging from my neck.

I found the creek bed/dirt bike trail and I stood up on a small hill to see if I could see Reverend Legate. I did see one fellow who was dressed in overalls and had a room deodorizer hanging from his neck. I figured since he was the only one out here at the moment then it would be a safe bet he was the Reverend. Though if he wore a room deodorizer then he wasn't really suffering all that much, as far as I could see. He was a thin whisp of a man with a receding hairline.

The Reverend was sitting under a tree reading a Bible when I walked up to him. Excuse me, are you the Reverend Legate? I