Markers (Joshua Stokes Mysteries Book 3) (23 page)

The farm had never looked this rundown when his grandfather was alive. Joshua lit a cigarette and got out. The stiffness in his back caused him to stop and do a slight bending stretch. As he straightened up, he looked around some more. The fields and yard had recently been bush hogged and mowed; maybe the house has been cleaned too, he hoped it had. He needed to get someone out there to power-wash it, whitewash it, paint it, something needed to be done to freshen it up…

As he turned to walk to the front porch, he saw one of his grandmother’s lily bushes near the left fencerow and walked that way. It almost felt as if she had walked up beside him as he walked. He remembered walking around the yard with her as she told him the story of the lilies… He looked all around the yard. He saw three more lilies; each was about the size of the one near his back porch. There were also some azaleas, gardenias, and camellias there too, and one lone Japanese magnolia tree that sat nearly in the middle of it all. The two large camellia bushes were also blooming-each was seven or eight feet in height. He remembered stretching up to pick one when he was a little boy. He sniffed the air and inhaled, the scent of the swamp lilies surrounded him, filling him with calm. As he stood there, something else caught his attention. The old barn beckoned him as the sunlight reflected off something inside and sent a shaft of light his way. He saw the front end of his granddaddy’s old Massey Harris tractor protruding from the inside where it had been parked the last twenty some odd years. He knew that further within the dark confines of the barn, was a 1931 Allis-Chalmers tractor that since his granddaddy’s death, everyone under the sun had tried to buy from him; he refused to sell it. He had made sure to pay someone to keep up the barn-replacing loose boards or tin on the roof that was messed up by storms or simply rusted from time and the elements.

His granddaddy had spent many a year in that barn - there were tools and implements in there that his granddaddy’s granddaddy had owned when he was alive. Joshua remembered his grandfather saying that when he held his father’s ax in his hand, it was as if he was holding his father’s hand…

The remnants of a tire swing still hung from a branch of the large oak tree to the left of the house. Flashes of swinging to and fro, his bare feet stretching out ahead of him, reaching to touch the leaves on the lowest branch from which it hung, flashed through Joshua’s mind-a forgotten childhood memory- “where has the time gone” he wondered aloud. One day you’re a kid swinging from the branch of a tree, the next, you’re an old man-life has done passed you by. He would soon be fifty years old and didn’t have shit to show for it. No legacy to pass down… hell, he had no one to pass it to. He had no one he could call his own - no sons or daughters - no one…

He inhaled the scent of the lilies again and then reached into his pocket. He sighed without realizing it as he pulled his set of keys out of his pocket and began walking toward the house. The wrap-around porch of the 1880s farmhouse was bare-the rocking chairs that once graced it, were the ones on his porches. They were the only thing he had taken from his grandparent’s home. And, the only reason he took those, was because his grandfather had asked him to keep them safe-he said that his grandfather Stokes had made them when he married-Joshua remembered him saying that he liked to piddle with wood. He made most of the furnishings that were in the house.

Just as he was about to step on the bottom rung of the steps to the front porch, he heard Ida Mae calling him on his car radio. He kind a wished it had remained broken- (the mechanic had found that the coaxial cable had been sawed into by something so he replaced it.) The broken cable prevented him hearing them or them hearing him when he called for backup the day he was stabbed.

“It never fails,” Joshua mumbled to himself when he heard her call. He stopped and stood there several minutes, trying to decide whether to go answer her or ignore the call. Then his pager began beeping. (He had found it in the passenger side floorboard after his release from the hospital.) He looked down at it-the number to the Sheriff’s Office was spelled out - with ASAP after it. For Ida Mae to add an ASAP after the number, meant that it was important. Joshua looked at the front door; the keyhole on knob beckoned him.

Standing there on the front porch, he could smell his grandparents scent. The aroma of spices, sassafras, and pipe tobacco drifted to him; it came from the house; it comforted him.

What’s important to them is not necessarily important to me…
thought Joshua as he sat down on the top step and took a long drag on his cigarette. He inhaled deeply and then released it slowly, letting all his tension out with it. Sitting there, surrounded by the scent of his grandparents and his memories of growing up there, was soothing. It made him wonder why he avoided coming there. It also made him realize why he held onto it-the house and the property. As long as he had it-as long as he could come there, smell their scent, and feel their presence, they really were not gone; at least not too far.

About the Author:

Lila Beckham, aka Lila M Beckham is a pseudonym of Susan C Beck. Under the Beckham identity, she is the author of several published novels, as well as several short stories. Her titles include the, set in the 1970s, ‘Murder along the Bayous Mystery Series’, better known as, The Joshua Stokes Mysteries, which include the titles, Dumping Grounds, Fallout, and this one, titled, Markers. She is also the author of the novellas, Annabelle’s Diary, Tuesday’s Gone, and Orphan Girl. Her short stories include, the Empty Room and A Little Past the Corner of Royal and Main. Under the pseudonym Samuel Parker Adams, she has published a novella titled, ‘Darkling.’ Under her identity, Susan Cobb Beck, aka Susan C Beck, the novels, A Murder in Moffettville, She Walks the Night Winds, and Beyond the Willow Tree are available. As this is written, she is in the process of writing at least five more novels, is constructing a miscellaneous book of poetry, and shorts from various writings. Look for them sometime in the future.

Lila Beckham