The Front Porch Prophet

“We need to go on in,” A.J. said. “Your face is really bruised.” He got out of the truck and stepped around to open the door for her. She got out slowly and tested her legs. Then they walked up to Doc’s door and entered. His living room had been converted into a waiting room, and Doc was sitting in a Naugahide chair by the wall reading a medical journal disguised as Field and Stream. He looked up as they entered.

“A.J., how have you been?” he inquired.

“Been better, Doc. This lady needs some attention.”

Doc stepped up close and viewed the facial contusion.

“Yesss,” he said absentmindedly as his expert fingers gently felt for broken bones in the area of the bruise. “Mrs. Jackson,” he said loudly, calling the woman who had been his landlady, nurse, and companion for many years. When they were alone he called her Minnie, but this was business. “Let’s get this young woman ready for a complete medical exam.” Doc’s trained eye had also noted the deep scratches that began at her throat and disappeared under her shirt.

“What is your name, dear?” Mrs. Jackson asked as they left the lobby, but the door swung shut before A.J. could hear the reply. He supposed he should have inquired before now, but the opportunity had not presented itself, and she hadn’t volunteered. Doc and A.J. were left in the lobby.

“What’s the story, A.J.?” Doc asked.

“Eugene and I found her in the woods. She hasn’t been raped.”

“How do you know that?”

“I know. Eugene is on the way here with Slim. When he gets here, we’ll tell the story. Go check her out in the meantime. I think she was in shock when we found her.” Doc was looking at A.J. hard. He knew that an abundance wasn’t being said.

“I’ll be wanting some answers soon, A.J.,” he said.

“You’ll have them. Oh, and Doc? When you get through with her, get your coroner stuff ready. The woods are full of dead people.” Doc was on the way to the examining room. He stopped and slowly turned.

“I assume you are speaking euphemistically?”

“Nope.”

Doc just stared.

“A.J., what in hell have you and Eugene gotten into?”

“We have wandered into a metric ton of shit,” A.J. replied, and he meant every word. The old physician shook his head and left to tend his patient. A.J. stepped outside and waited for Slim and Eugene to arrive. His heels weren’t kept cooling for long. The pile of cigarette butts at his feet had only grown to three when he heard the siren on Slim Neal’s cruiser. Slim was usually as subtle as a B-52 raid and did not disappoint on the current occasion. He came sliding down Doc’s driveway with all four wheels locked and leaped out. Eugene, A.J. noted, was sitting in the back where the prisoners go.

“Where is the girl?” Slim asked, excited and out of breath.

“She’s in there with Doc,” A.J. replied. Slim made to brush past A.J., who did not move from the door. “They won’t be long,” he continued. “Let’s let them have their privacy.” He couldn’t precisely explain it, but he had become a little protective of her. The idea of Slim shining his flashlight at her private parts while looking for clues was unacceptable. Given Slim’s history, it was not inconceivable that whole sections of her body would end up roped off with yellow tape, and A.J. wasn’t going to have it. “Why don’t you take my statement?” he suggested to Slim.

“I don’t need your statement. Eugene has confessed. I know everything.” Knowing Slim as he did, A.J. found that hard to believe.

“What, exactly, has Eugene confessed to?” he asked, looking toward the backseat of the police car. Eugene shrugged.

“To killing three men up on the mountain, of course. Said he beat two of them to death with your bat and shot a third one.” Slim oozed exhilaration. “He says it was self-defense. Sure sounds like it was to me, but I’ve got to talk to that girl and check it out.” Slim spoke proudly, unaware that the biggest case he had ever unraveled was solved incorrectly.

“Slim, that’s not what happened,” A.J. said. “I killed those men.”

“A.J., A.J., A.J. Everyone knows Eugene is your buddy, and everyone knows you’re going to stick up for him. Hell, even Eugene said you’d try to take the blame. Said you told him to just shut up and let you do the talking. I understand these things, but if you try to lie to the county sheriff when he gets here, you’re going to get into trouble.” Slim was patting A.J. on the shoulder and speaking in a tolerant tone.

“Can I talk to Eugene a minute?” A.J. asked tightly.

“Well, I don’t know.” Slim thought about the idea. “I guess it would be all right, but I’d have to put you in the backseat.” He led A.J. to the car and shut him in. Eugene was sitting there, wearing handcuffs.

“What are you doing?” A.J. asked, getting right to the issue.

“Hell, A.J., the man wore me down. Had some of those hot lights shining on me. Beat me with a hose. I confessed. He also made me admit that I was the second man on the grassy knoll and he may have me pegged on the Lindbergh baby.” Eugene had a faint smile on his lips.