He barreled into the kitchen without a word, still dressed in his blue police uniform. He never washed his hands before eating and I eyed the small slivers of dirt underneath his nails in disgust. It was his rule that he sit at the table alone and eat dinner first. Me, Sam, and Martha would eat whatever was left.
Willie Jay looked at the plate, inspecting it like something was wrong. The pounding of my heart nearly took my breath away.
“Looks like your cooking skills are coming along, gal.”
I was too scared to say a word. I simply nodded.
Then he eyeballed me from head to toe and licked his lips with a nasty grin, “After dinner, maybe I’ll have you for dessert.” He gave a loud, ugly laugh, and I backed away and watched as he said a blessing over his food. After the first bite, he laughed out loud. “This is really good. You and Sammy gon’ hafta eat jelly sandwiches for dinner.”
By the third bite, sweat beads lined his forehead. He wiped his brow, but he never stopped eating. “God, it’s hot in here,” he huffed. “Open the window!”
I scrambled to the window over the sink and slipped it up just a crack. He took several more bites, then he stopped. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand before he slumped in his chair. He gazed at me with a blank stare, like he was staring straight through me. I backed up against the cupboard, into a plastic tumbler that fell to the floor in a hollow clunk. His stare still locked on me. I wasn’t sure if he had figured out what was going on. Suddenly his right hand dropped to the table; his fork clinked against his plate before tumbling onto the linoleum. A few seconds later, he was gasping for air before he finally fell to the kitchen floor.
I quietly watched as Willie Jay roiled in convulsions for what seemed an eternity, his body moving in fits and spasms. I left him there a couple times to dart between the kitchen and the hallway, peeking in Martha’s bedroom to make sure she was still out. The last time I returned to the kitchen I glowered down at him. He reached his arm toward me, as if pleading for my help. I didn’t budge. I just focused on the slivers of dirt under his nails until he dropped his arm.
Finally, Willie Jay stopped moving. His mouth gaped, the last bite of dumplings still inside. His eyes were two slits, just barely apart. I stared at him lying on the floor.
Dead.
I couldn’t really explain it but something inside me lifted—a weight of relief or perhaps an odd joy knowing Willie Jay was never going to smoke another cigar or burn another piece of human flesh. He would never lock up another innocent person in jail or another helpless child in a backyard shed.
I lifted the telephone receiver on the wall and dialed. “It’s me. I’m done.”
Then I eased into a kitchen chair and sat for another five minutes with him on that kitchen floor, relieved it was all over.
I heard another car pull up in the driveway. My heart pounded so loud and fast. I raced to the living room and peeked out the window before I opened the door and fell into Vera’s arms in tears.
“Shh . . . it’s okay, sugar. Everything’s okay now. Where is he?”
“In the kitchen.”
“Where’s Martha?”
“She passed out in the bedroom. She was in a really bad way tonight.”
We both hustled into the kitchen and got to work.
“Get his feet. I’ll take care of his pockets,” Vera said.
As much as I hated to go near his feet, I removed his shoes and socks while Vera emptied everything from his pockets. She said these things could fall away from him, so it was really important to remove them first. I placed his socks inside his shoes and put them under the sink, along with the things Vera removed from his pockets, including his gun and holster.
“C’mon, let’s get him out of here,” Vera said. I reached under the cupboard and pulled out a gray tarp. I scooted around the table and placed the tarp on the floor next to the body; together Vera and I rolled Willie Jay onto it and pulled it up and over him. “Go prop open the back door.”
I did as she said and then joined her back at the table. We stood over the blanketed lump for a moment.
“Remember, you’re a brave girl. You ready?”
I nodded. “Ready.”
Vera grabbed the top end of the tarp and I carried the bottom. Together, we dragged his body out the kitchen door, down the back steps, and to the edge of the river. He was so heavy we had to stop a few times just to catch our breath or adjust the tarp around his body. Sweat poured off me. My arms ached. A couple minutes later, we stood at the edge of the riverbank with Willie Jay at our feet.