In Hell: When Love Kills A Small Town Mystery

Chapter 20

"I really can't say."

Cash looked out the window, trying to figure out what to do next. Lori was twisting the end of her blouse. Her mouth was a taut line. He cranked the truck, heading down a dirt road that seemed to go on forever.

"Where are we going?"

"To find a coffin's nail."

*****

Cash pulled up in front of a small blue frame house. There was nothing particularly different about it from any of the others that Lori had observed.

"Have you lost it? Why do you want a coffin's nail?" Lori asked.

"You'll see."

Cash knocked on the door.

"Come in. Come in. It's open," said a voice from inside the house. "Back here. Don't mind the mess."

Lori and Cash entered. Cash led her to the back of the house. On the back porch, a man was bent over slicing strips of leather with a utility knife.

"Well," said the man who answered, "look who's here. Haven't seen you in quite a long time, Cash. You're all grown up."

"Yeah."

"Been meaning to fix this chair bottom for awhile," he said, laying down the knife.

"That's an antique," Cash said, picking up the box cutter. "Still got the Ashlon logo on the handle."

"Souvenir," said Coffin. "From my factory days."

"Did you like the work?" Lori asked.

"You, my little lady, have obviously never done piece work. Hot as hell. No benefits to speak of. But the pay was good for around here. And the girls. Oh, my."

"Settle down, old man. Your memories will give you a stroke," Cash said.

"Come into the kitchen," the old man said, picking up a small metallic object that looked like it belonged to a motor. "I stay busy. Usually most of the night. Tinker, you know. Passes the time."

Lori bumped into a small table near the kitchen door. She sent a box of nuts and bolts flying into the air.

"Oh," said Coffin, "never mind. No damage done. I'll pick the mess up later."

He led them inside. Cash and Lori sat down at the kitchen table.

"What's this?" Lori asked, picking up a sheath of typewritten papers.

"Another hobby," Coffin said, removing them to clear a place at the table. "When I'm not tinkering, I jot down remembrances."

"A mechanical genius and a writer. I'm impressed. I'll bet it reads like a Who's Who of this town. I can imagine you as a young man breaking all the young girls hearts," said Lori.

"Deck Ashlon was our Casanova back then," said Coffin. "Not me. I'm afraid you'd find it insufferable and boring. Just the ramblings and reminiscences from a long time ago."

Coffin turned his attention toward Cash.

"I heard a rumor. Is it true?" Coffin asked, offering Cash a cigarette.

"Yeah, man. Somebody knocked off Clifford," Cash said, lighting up and flipping a match in the butt-filled ashtray on the table.

The old man rubbed the white beard on his chin. He had a head full of wispy hair. His features were chiseled, his face still retained some of the handsomeness of youth. He drew deeply on his cigarette, blowing the smoke away from Lori.

"I'd give you my condolences, but I feel they'd be wasted."

"You always were a smart cookie, Coffin."

There was a twinkle in the old man's eyes.

"Simp told me you'd come back. I need some help."

An egg timer dinged.

"Come. Come. The coffee's done," he said, getting cups. Unconsciously, he begins whistling a tune. "Love my coffee. Drink gallons of the stuff every week. Guess we all have our addictions. Our vices."

He smiled.

"You both must join me," he said. "Life's not worth two cents without a good cup of java. That's been my motto for decades."

"I'll pass," said Lori.

"Make mine a double and make it strong," said Cash. "Lori, this is The Coffin's Nail. Mr. Coffin Snell."

His face was radiant, and behind the white bushy eyebrows that threatened to cover half his forehead were black eyes that burned with intelligence.

"Not funny, Cash," he said, tamping tobacco into his pipe and fixing the mugs of hot coffee. "He rarely ever is, my dear. Warped sense of humor. But in a good way."

"Coffin left to make his fortune after the plant closed down."

"Did you?" asked Lori.

"Oh, my dear, I quickly learned that fortunes are made and lost and made again and are not to be mourned."

"You came back because you're broke," said Lori.

"Quite a mental prodigy, aren't you? Not broke, but the cost of living is so low here that the money I do have will last me nicely. Besides, I'm rather fond of the old place."

He turned to Cash.

"Apart from satisfying your curiosity that I am still among the living, you said you needed help. How can I assist you?"

Cash handed Coffin the note.

"Ask Clifford who did it," Coffin read aloud.

He handed the note back to Cash.

"Where did you get this?"

"Found it under my windshield wiper."

"Weird."

"I thought it was a bad joke. Then Clifford turned up murdered. Who would leave it?"

"Son," said Coffin, "I don't know. The timing is odd. Why now, after all these years?"

"Beats me," said Cash. "But like I said, this just shows up. Did Clifford talk much about that night to you or any of the others from back then?"

"What night are you two talking about?" Lori asked.

"The night my mother was murdered at the Ashlon plant," Cash said.