Slow Dance in Purgatory

3

“GONE”

Ferlin Huskey - 1957





August, 1958





Johnny watched them cover his brother’s body with a white sheet. Johnny raged and argued with the doctor, demanding that he do something. The doc didn’t even flinch when Johnny got in his face and screamed. Roger Carlton, that bastard, stood huddled with his parents not far from where the doc, who also apparently moonlighted as the county coroner, declared Billy dead. The police were questioning Roger about the gun, which was conveniently still clutched in Billy’s right hand, and about the large blood stain on the floor where Johnny had lain. Where Johnny’s body should have been but wasn’t.

“What did you see after they fell over the balcony, son?” the Police Chief repeated the question he had already asked Roger at least once.

“I told you! Billy was waving the gun around. I heard it go off, and I’m pretty sure he shot Johnny. Johnny grabbed Billy, and they fell over and landed right there! I saw them both lying there.” Roger waved his hand toward where they were loading Billy’s body on a wheeled gurney. “Neither of them was moving. I didn’t know what to do. That’s when I ran out front for help.”

“So where do you think Johnny is?” Chief Bailey asked Roger again.

“I don’t know! Why don’t you all go look for him?” Roger yelled, frustrated. His parents shushed and patted, and his father’s face got red as he stepped between the chief and his rattled son.

“Chief Bailey, he’s told you what he knows. The Kinross boy obviously wasn’t as hurt as his brother. He’s obviously run off somewhere. He’s probably afraid he’s going to get in trouble.”

“Hmmm. I guess that could be it, Mayor,” Chief Bailey replied deferentially, “but that’s an awfully big puddle of blood, and it obviously didn’t come from Billy Kinross. Doc said the fall probably broke Billy’s neck, killing him instantly. There was a little blood beneath Billy’s head, and he had blood on his shirt, probably from his brother falling against him, but nowhere else. Plus, you would think if Johnny Kinross walked on out of here, he’d have left a pretty good trail, considering the amount of blood he had already lost.”

Mayor Carlton shifted his weight uncomfortably. There was no arguing with that. There was no blood leading away from the large maroon pool now marking the center of the shiny new lobby. It was clear that someone had once lain in the blood, but it was not smeared or marred in any other way.

Johnny looked down at his chest. His tee shirt had been soaked in blood when he'd lain beside Billy. There had been a singed hole where the bullet had ripped through his shirt and burrowed itself into his chest. His shirt was now as white and hole free as when he had put it on earlier that evening. He lifted his shirt up and looked at his flat, smooth torso. It too was free of blood. He ran his hand across his chest and down his stomach. There was no wound. Not a single mark blemished his skin, and he felt no pain. He had felt that bullet hit him. He’d seen the look on Billy’s face as he’d fallen into his arms. Billy.

Johnny cried out and grabbed his chest. Now he felt pain, a fiery, tearing, blood-curdling pain exploding in his heart. Billy was gone, and he was here and no one seemed to be able to see him, though he was standing where Billy had lain.

“Billy!” Johnny cried his name again, and ran towards the entrance doors. He had to go with Billy. He had to find his momma and tell her what had happened, tell her how he’d screwed everything up. If only he hadn’t stolen that gun!

The door had been propped wide to accommodate the gurney they had put Billy on, and Johnny lurched through the opening, only to be violently repelled and hurled back into the lobby. He tumbled head over heels and landed on his back, stunned, looking up at the rounded ceiling high above him. Shaking himself, he rose to his feet and again ran through the opening, only to rebound back like he had thrown himself into a fireman’s net. Slowly, he walked to the open door. Gingerly, he stretched his hand forward and extended it through the opening. It felt like reaching into a hive of bees. Johnny yelped and jerked his hand back, clutching it to his chest and staring out into the blackness of the night. He realized that he couldn’t see anything but darkness beyond the threshold. Surely, there should be police cars and flashing lights. He knew there would be a crowd gathered, pushing forward to see the unfolding tragedy. There should be excited voices and shouts from police officers to stay back behind the perimeter. But he could neither hear nor see a thing beyond the entrance doors.

Without warning, a police deputy surged through the black curtain and collided with Johnny, who had been unable to see him coming. Johnny stumbled back with a grunt, falling to the floor once again. The deputy winced and, rubbing his shoulder fiercely where it had connected with Johnny, looked around with an incredulous look on his face.

"What the hell...?" The deputy muttered to himself.

"Parley?" Chief Bailey asked expectantly. Parley Pratt was a brand-new policeman, still wet behind the ears and easily impressed and distracted.

“Uh... yeah....Chief! We’ve got Dolly Kinross out there. She’s insisting on seeing her boys. Doc already left with Billy. Should I send her along after him?”

“What’d you tell her, Parley?” The chief leveled a look at his young deputy.

“Nothin’ Chief. I didn’t know what to tell her!” The deputy looked awkwardly at the mayor and then down at his feet.

“Good man. Let me handle it. I want every officer scouring this school – hell, this whole damn town for Johnny Kinross. Divide people up, and let’s get a search going. Have Deputy Johnson tell that crowd out there that we have reason to believe that Johnny Kinross is in need of medical attention and wanted for questioning, and if anyone sees him or is contacted by him to immediately turn him over to us. And for heaven’s sake, send ‘em all home.

“Yes sir.” The deputy turned to carry out his orders.

“Oh, and Parley? Send Dolly Kinross in here before you talk to the crowd, all right? That poor woman should hear the news from me before she hears it from someone else.”

Silence descended on the room when the deputy exited in an official rush. The mayor cleared his throat uncomfortably and slid his arm around his wife’s plump shoulders.

“If you don’t need us any further, Chief Bailey, Mrs. Carlton and I will just take Roger on home now.”

The chief eyed the mayor, noticing how he’d started shifting from one foot to the other and wondering why Mrs. Carlton suddenly appeared to have swallowed a lemon whole. She had stepped out from beneath her husband’s arm and instead was clinging to her son. Roger Carlton had grown very still, and his mouth was turned down in a thin scowl.

“Well, maybe that’s better, Mayor. I don’t suppose Mrs. Kinross is gonna want an audience when I break the news, although she’s gonna want some answers. I know I would sure like some. I'll be by, Roger.” His steady gaze bore a hole into Roger Carlton, who squirmed, knowing the chief wasn't through with him.

Johnny sunk down on his haunches next to the door. His mother was here. Would she be able to see him? What was she going to do now? The mayor sure as hell wouldn’t take care of her.

Dolly Kinross flew through the door seconds later. She wore a white dress with big red polka dots splashed all over it and red high heels with bows on the toes. Her blond hair was curled and pinned carefully, and if you hadn’t seen her face you would think she was all dressed up for a fancy party or a night out with a special man. But her smeared lipstick and the black lines of mascara running down her cheeks told a different story. Dolly Kinross was a beautiful woman and looked ten years younger than her actual age of 38, but after this night that would change.

Johnny stood and rushed to embrace her, but he was suddenly afraid. She had walked right by him. She couldn't see him. What would happen if he tried to touch her? Unwilling to contemplate the growing realization that something was very wrong with him, he stood as close to his mother as he could and breathed in the Chanel No. 5 that she loved and couldn’t afford. He wondered if the mayor had bought it for her. Dolly didn’t look at Johnny at all but faced the chief, her arms wrapped around her waist, her eyes bouncing from Mayor Carlton to the blood in the center of the floor and back to Chief Bailey.

“Where are my sons, Chief Bailey? People are saying they got in some trouble and that they were in here. Deputy Parley said the mayor’s son was with them.” Dolly Kinross swung her gaze to Roger hopefully, as if his mortality was proof that her own sons would materialize shortly.

Chief Bailey groaned inwardly at the ineptness of his young deputy. Parley couldn’t resist a pretty face and had spilled more than he’ had let on. Apparently, neither could the mayor, if his wife’s hostility and his own discomfort were any indication. This thing was getting messier by the second.

“The mayor and his family were just leaving, Ms. Kinross.” The chief tried to step between Dolly Kinross and the Carltons, but a frisson of electricity shot up his left arm and he gasped, wondering if he was having a heart attack. He would rather that, then tell Ms. Kinross that her youngest son was dead and her older son most likely severely wounded and currently unaccounted for.

Mayor Carlton herded his wife and son through the front doors. Chief Bailey thought he saw flashbulbs go off. Leave it to old Al Tibson, owner of the Honeyville Crier, to be there with his great, big, flashing camera all set up to capture the lurid details. He would let Mayor Carlton deal with that. It would serve the philandering peacock right. What the dickens was pretty Dolly Kinross doing with Mayor Carlton, anyway?

“Chief?” Dolly Kinross cleared her throat nervously and suppressed a sob that was threatening to break free. “Whose blood is that?”


Dolly Kinross did not take the news well. She kept insisting that Johnny wouldn’t have left his younger brother to save his own skin, and if he had left at all it had to have been against his will.

“Johnny was very protective of Billy and me, Chief Bailey. He wouldn’t have just left Billy laying there dead! And he wouldn’t have left me – not without telling me where he was going!” Dolly Kinross had sobbed into his shoulder. Chief Bailey had silently agreed with her. He had tried to comfort her, and he had reassured her that they would figure it out. But the truth was, he was completely stumped.

Thinking back on that awful night he sighed and rubbed the thinning hair on the back of his head, unfolding himself from his desk chair. None of it made any sense. From what he knew about Johnny Kinross, the kid was no angel. After all, he had stolen the gun that his kid brother had been waving around that night. The owner had come forward and reported it missing from his car just yesterday. That had answered the question of the gun.

He had wrangled the story of the rumble out of Roger Carlton and a few of the kids that had gathered for the fight that night. Roger had apparently been giving Billy Kinross a hard time, and Johnny had called him out. Johnny Kinross had been involved in his share of fights over the years, and he had a reputation as a pretty tough kid. Apparently, Roger Carlton had tried to increase his odds in the fight with a little element of surprise.

A day or so after the disappearance, Chief Bailey had also been barraged by a steady stream of hysterical females, all claiming to have had a special relationship with Johnny. He had even been visited by plain little Dorothy Barker, Johnny’s English teacher, who had seemed unusually distraught by the news of Johnny’s disappearance. Chief Bailey had his suspicions about that. Seems Johnny had a way with the ladies. Still, angel or not, Johnny didn’t seem like the kind to run when there was trouble

Unfortunately, that was the only option that made any sense. They hadn’t found a trace of him anywhere. His car had still been right where he left it that night. The doors were hanging open and the lights were still on. Somebody had done some real damage to it, too. Chief Bailey was working on charging Roger Carlton with that. The Carlton kid had been seen taking a bat to the Bel Air, and he was going to pay to have it repaired, whether Johnny Kinross turned up or not. Roger Carlton was up to his eyeballs in this thing, although Chief Bailey didn’t think he had anything to do with Johnny’s disappearance. Still, Roger should have to pay restitution in some way or another.

Chief Bailey was also going to demand that Mayor Carlton set up some reward money in an account at the local bank. It might encourage someone who might have some information to come forward. Dolly Kinross sure didn’t have a damned dime, and Mayor Carlton had plenty. He owed the woman that much; Chief Bailey would make sure he paid, too. It was his own way of doing something, because he had done precious little to solve the missing persons case. It wasn’t for lack of trying. There just wasn’t much to go on.

They had turned the school inside out the night of the tragedy. They had turned the town upside down in the days that followed. Johnny Kinross had just vanished. The only clue they had had was the destruction in the men's locker room a day or so after the tragedy. The mirrors had all been broken. They hadn't been broken when he and his deputies had searched the school the night Billy Kinross died. They had found the window that had been shot out, just like the Carlton kid said, and Billy Kinross’s glasses. But the destruction to the mirrors had to have happened after. They wouldn’t have known about the mirrors at all, but the new janitor had reported it. He had been hired several months before the tragedy and had been asked to clean up the construction dust and debris and ready the school for its first day.

“Parley? What was that janitor’s name again?” Chief called out into the front office area where his secretary, Sharon, and Parley were chatting over cups of coffee.

“Huh, Chief?” Parley shot his head inside Chief Bailey’s office. “Oh, um, the colored boy?”

Chief Bailey didn’t much like the term colored, but he didn’t correct Parley, who truly meant no harm and didn’t seem to know any better.

“His name is Gus...Jackson? No, Johnson…..Jasper! Gus Jasper. Why?"

“I want to talk to him again. Can you drive over to the school and see if he’s there – see maybe if I can have a word with him when he gets done with his shift?”

“Sure thing, Chief.”

Gus Jasper was visibly nervous when he arrived at the police station at about 5:30 that afternoon. He held his cap in his hands and twisted it uncomfortably, but his eyes held Chief Bailey’s and his gaze was direct. He was a good looking black man in his early twenties, tall and well built, with limbs suited more to the basketball court than the janitor’s closet. Chief Bailey had noticed that he limped a little when he walked, but decided not to ask any personal questions. Gus had stayed in the background when the chief and a couple of deputies had gone to check out the broken mirrors he had reported. He probably thought he was in trouble now, and Chief Bailey rushed to put him at ease.

“Thank you for coming by, Mr. Jasper. I just wanted to follow up with you to check if you’d seen anything else at the school that might have struck you as out of the ordinary.” Chief Bailey raised his eyebrows hopefully at the uncomfortable young man.

“Well…. “ Gus Jasper had a soft voice with more than a hint of Alabama in its cadence. “I don’t know if I’ve been there long enough to know what ordinary is…but…“ He stopped and looked down at his hands.

“But what?” Chief Bailey prodded.

“Well, there are times when I feel like maybe someone’s been in the school. A few times I’ll go into a room I’ve just cleaned, and I’ll find a book on a desk that wasn’t there before or something that has been moved. Yesterday, I stocked all the classrooms with erasers and chalk, getting ready for Monday, ya know? Today every chalkboard had the name Johnny Kinross written on it.”

Chief Bailey felt a damp chill skitter down his neck and across his back.

“I’m sure it’s just kids messin’ with me, “ Gus continued, “but I don’t know how kids could get in. The school has been re-keyed since the boy died. I don’t have keys. Mr. Marshall, the principal, he lets me in every day and locks up behind me.”

“Did you show Mr. Marshall the chalkboards?” Chief Bailey questioned.

“I did.” Gus paused and seemed reluctant to continue. “I think Mr. Marshall thought I did it. He wasn’t very happy. He told me if it happened again, I would be fired.”

Chief Bailey liked Principal Marshall even less than he had about ten seconds ago, which was not at all. Principal Marshall was a skinny, small-minded, bully. How he had risen through the ranks of educators to become the principal was beyond comprehension. Kids in Honeyville deserved better.

“I see.” Chief Bailey sighed and leaned forward in his rickety desk chair. “From now on, when you see something that doesn’t feel right or find something that might help us find Johnny Kinross, would you just come to me? It doesn’t matter how small. If Principal Marshall has a problem with that, you just refer him to me, all right? Principal Marshall and I go way back.” Way back to when Mr. Marshall was a squeaky new math teacher and Clark Bailey was a smart alecky senior making his life miserable. Chief Bailey smirked at the memory.

“Thank you, sir. I’ll do that.” Gus sat quietly for a minute, waiting for further questions. When none were forthcoming, he arose and turned to leave.

“Sir?” Gus said softly.

“Yeah, Mr. Jasper?”

“What do you think happened to that boy?”

“Hell if I know, Mr. Jasper. Hell if I know.”