Murder Near Orange Cat

Philip J. Sembert II

“So, tell us what you did that day,” he said while puffing his cigarette with plumes of white smoke curling under the light.

The neighbors were all talking outside. Jim is the only fellow on our street who receives the daily paper. You see, it’s hard times for certain folks nowadays, not everyone can afford the paper which makes Jim the most popular man when big news comes about. He just stands there like a bull and reads off all the headlines with a strong voice that carries like select few. But, until yesterday, it has been two months since any major news has happened. I honestly think that Jim missed his reading, and all the eyes that lay upon him as he reads. Honestly . . . he seemed to revel in yesterday’s headline sir.

“I want to know more about that night, never mind yesterday.” He stared at me inquisitively, the smoke swirling and twirling about freely.

Now I don’t know why Jeb and I decided last night that we would do our shenanigans, but regardless we did and neither of us slept much. Old Man Jenkins is damn near blind, I think he lost his right mind long ago. We were about to tie a rock to some fishing line to loop it around his front door, it’s good fun to pull the line and make the rock knock the door. It scares the jeepers out of him. But, that night we spared him from our debauchery. We felt bad for the Old Man because he done fell down and bloodied his nose the last time we wronged him. So we left to leave him be.

“Why did you happen to be in the village square?”

You see – we were walking through the village on the ridge, and Jeb decided that we should go down Center St to see what fun we could get ourselves into. The saloon was a good spot to catch a fight spurred about by irrational and false masculinity – Papa always said masculinity has nothing to do with being a man, but the drunken men with hopeless futures always found a major life victory in a meaningless fist to fist battle.

Well just as Jeb and I entered town, we heard some glass break off Varsity Drive, that Café was no more than a stone’s throw away, and we decided to head that way to see what the stir was.

There he stood, at least his shadow, with a hand wielding a butcher’s blade, dripping blood. My heart started to run and my body went cold. That run turned into a sprint once the man turned the corner. He stood like a bull with shoulders as broad as a sword. He walked at a quick pace with an unforgettable strut. We ran so fast that we ended up right back in the village square.

“That’s enough. Captain Holt, does the other’s story line up?”

“Yes. I checked with the Old Man. Even that’s true. The other boy told nearly the same thing.”

“Kid, you might have just solved a case.”

In a few days’ time, Jeb and I were interviewed by the paper. We were winners of the $10,000 reward set for information leading to the arrest of the person who murdered Doc Brown. As it would be, it was Jim himself who did in Doc Brown. I reckon because Doc Brown’s murder would be big news in town, the attention Jim craved would be granted when he read the news out loud, with each word flowing off his tongue with a unique sense of ownership like the words in the paper were his own, and his task he set out to do, even if temporary, was a resounding success, I mean every eyeball in town was on him that morning, that’s the attention he desired.

Anyways, that’s the whole truth and nothing but the truth! Yep, Jeb and I would never lie and put a neighbor behind bars for nothin’! And if you hear about how Jim once kept our ball which rolled into his yard, and how he always shouted and yelled at us for making a ruckus, well . . . that has nothin’ to do with what we saw that night.

I know what George thinks, but for once, I think he is wrong. Now, Mama always said that I was the brightest one. “Do not confuse George’s abundance of confidence with intelligence” she always said. Frankly, his response to any question is so quick, and natural, and suave, that you cannot help but believe him . . . most of the time. His ideas are great, and we followed through on one the other day perfectly. But, I think . . . I think it was bad.

What feels just is not just, Our stupid power lust.

(Back to the interrogation room a couple weeks ago)

You see, George and I have a great deal of fun together, especially when summer brought recess. Jim was not a fan of us, in fact, I think he hated us. It started two weeks back when we received a new baseball from Pa through the mail, and so we played catch on the front yard. The ball got away from me and rolled into Jim’s lawn. I ran quick to snag it, but Jim came running out, hooting and hollering “Out of my yard! Out of my yard!” Jim slouched over and scooped up the ball and tossed it to his bulldog, Sergeant. George stood there tall and in a valiant rage, shoulders broad, his chest puffed.

Boy did George turn red and boil, He schemed a plan, Jim the foil.

It was the same day Doc Brown was murdered near Orange Cat. That night, we happened to be downtown, just down the Ridge, off Center St, the darkness was cut away by street lamps and the moonlight beamed through a break in the clouds – I imagined how it reflected across the Niagara, as it flowed into Lake Ontario.

When the glass broke, We dropped our smoke.

To the noise – we did run, and a shadow we did see, but who we saw –now that was not up to me. George told me the body was like a bull, and he walked with an unmistakable stagger.

The smoke swirled about in the light, It brought my mind a great delight.

“So, you saw a man standing like a bull that walked with an unmistakable swagger?”

No. I said stagger.

“Yes, I think you just solved a case.”

And I was released with George to go home. Jim was put on trial a few days later and was convicted for murder.

Weeks passed and we received a $10,000 reward for information leading to the capture of Doc Brown’s slayer. But, after Nikola was murdered, the brilliant man who wanted to use the power of the Niagara for electricity, and who used the Ridge as his place of research, I realized what Georgey and I did. It has devasted me ever since. Each day that goes by is a day that I wish no longer to live. We ended a life, or at the very least . . . tarnished it forever. People don’t care about something you didn’t do.

I sat hand in hand with darkness, my sin, your sin, our sin, for over a week. The weight of humanity rested on my chest, clenched my heart, and made each and every breath hard to take. No, I didn’t lie, I just believed what was told to me which happened to deceive. But, a life was at stake, and George . . . George and I went too far. I should’ve known. I should’ve stopped us.

Mama, I must tell you . . .

“You’re scaring Mama again with the pause.”

Mama, George and I told Captain Holt about some general things we seen the other night, and we did see something, but not necessarily how we described it to him, a . . an . . . and . . . before we knew it, Jim was convicted and sent to prison for something . . . something he probably didn’t do . . . Mama we ruined his life! His reputation . . . forever!

“I’m not sure who I’m more upset with, your brother’s ignorance, or your own conformity.” Mama took a deep breath, “We need to see the captain, and tell him the truth, and nothing but the truth!”

Yes, Mama. Mama . . .

“Yes?”

Please don’t write to Pa.

Silence followed.