Going Down by the Levee

                                                Descending Lives
                                                                     by me.

   Sherry Lynn's was just another one of those Louisiana back road bars, the ones that have the door opened most of the time so the patrons can find their way out. And, the ac didn't work. Half the fluorescent lights were burnt on the old building's once fancy external display. Inside the heavy smell of clorox covered a history of smells worse than clorox. The bar stools were rusted chrome with worn red vinyl padding, the bar marred by the steady presence of wet elbows. It was dark. It was dank. Since her husband died 20 years earlier, Sherry Lynne had persided over it all with the help of her younger brother, Rudy.
   Rudy's jobs were to be the bouncer, deal blackjack and hold down the old recliner which sat next to the pinball machines. Rudy wasn't real bright, but very big.
It was cold that late December evening in Letell. Happy Hour was going strong with the truck drivers hooping it up. They had been a fixture at Sherry's ever since logging had picked up a couple of months back. They worked hard and partied hard, always creating a tenseness in the little place. Sherry and Rudy put up with it since their money was good. Local customers had declined with the place and the town.
Larry and Jeanine had lived there all their lives, gone to school together, got married and Jeanine got drunk. Life in Letell had little to offer. She had resigned herself to a life of blurring reality. They were together, but not. Larry's pride and Jeanine's need for money were their only bindings.
Larry worked at his father's hardware and feed store up on 190. He worked long hours. More likely than not,returning home, he would find Jeanine cackling with Sherry at the bar. Jeanine, four sails to the wind. Tonight, Jeanine had found another audience.
   Louis was a big old boy with an attitude. He and Jeanine had been getting aquainted over the last few weeks, unknown to late working Larry. For her favors Louis had been hood-winked into giving Jeanine a shorterm loan, supposedly to help her ailing mother. In reality, it was to support her new crack habit, and the money was gone.
Tonight Larry came in early. Seeing his wife in the corner with Louis hanging all over her made him snap. His life was nothing and he had nothing to lose. He attacked Louis. Louis caught him in mid-air and flung him against the wall. Larry crumpled.
   Someone screamed that he wasn't breathing.
   Sherry was on the phone to the sheriff's office. The place was emptying as if on fire. Louis was on his way out with Jeanine was pleading for him to take her with him.
   He did.
   It was time for Louis to get away. They headed south across I-10 and parked in a canefield south of Grosse Tete. Louis believed he had killed Larry and he needed to get out of the state. Pay day wasn't until Friday and his funds were getting low. He told Jeanine he wanted his money. One excuse led to another and the argument got hotter until Jeanine, in her drug inhanced rage, attached Louis. Scratching and kneeing, Jeanine had gotten the upper hand in the small confines of the pickup. Louis reached behind him as he lay on the cab's floor finding the hunting arrow in its case. With one thrust he put it through Jeanine's chest.

Louis drug the limp body to the bed of the pickup putting her under an old tarp and covering it with the garbage which was always there.
He did his best to clean up the damage she had done to him. He realized he could not travel any of the main roads to make his escape out of the state.
.
He was becoming frantic. He needed to reset, a place to clean up, rest and plan.
He drove back into Pointe Coupee, heading for Krotz Springs. He would go up the lightly travelled gravel road and find a place to dump the body into the river. It was very late, almost 2:00. River access could not be found. At last he rounded the bend and there the ferry's shell landing appeared. The darkness would cover him.
He backed the truck to the water's edge and slid her voluminous body out of the bed and into the water, arrow still in place. She just sunk and stayed there. A deliberate shove was needed to float her corpse out of the shallow water. She disappeared into the night.
The landing would be quiet until 5:00 . Louis pulled the truck onto a small side road and tried to sleep. He was cold and wet. The only available warmth was the tarp. Sleep did not come. He lay there shivering until the sound of an approaching car stirred him. It was time. He got in line behind the car and boarded the ferry to Melville. As it left the shore, he looked downsteam and imagined the feathered end of the arrow breaching the water's surface.
He needed a place to stay. The old hotel would offer his only hope. The Able Hotel had survived the terrible floods of the Twenties, but was soon doomed to be torn down.
As he came to the counter, Mr.Comeaux looked him over, shook his head and figured, at this point, what differece did it make. After taking his money, he directed him to a room up the stairs. The place was cold. Only the rooms offered a small amount of heat, mostly trapped in their high ceilings. There was only one large bathroom for the floor.
Louis made his way down the hall to clean up. At least it was warm. He returned to the room and collapsed, sleeping untill late that afternoon, awakened by a rapping at the door.
     He moaned, "What ya want?", thinking that it was all over and he had been delusional in his hopes for an escape.
     The old man just wanted him to move his truck so that a delivery could be made. He pulled himself together and took care of it. While he was out, he went to the store and bought bread and vienas to hold him over. He was starving.
    His plan was to hi-jack the ferry. He would wait until the last load of the evening.
    Time passed slowly. The meager groceries had taken most of his money. He was becoming desperate. As the load from the east side unloaded, a pickup exiting the ferry was being driven by someone looking very much like Larry.
    His body had never had the embracing ache which had overcome him. No, it couldn't be. His mind was failing.
    He boarded the ferry. He would have to pay the dollar this time. He scrounged enough change from the can on the dash and handed it to the toll man. The crossing was too quickly over. On exhiting the ferry he u-turned the truck around towards Melville and was motioned back onto the boat, the ferryman shaking his head.
    This was it. Could he do it?
    After boarding, he set the brake and took a deep breath. His head hurt. He knew he couldn't, doubting his faculties.
    Driving back up the bank into town, he saw the local theatre was opened. The old Joy looked like the place to sit and weigh his situation. At that moment,the town siren wailed making him skid to a stop. Sheriff J.L.Moreaux turned his head as he made his nightly rounds, eyeing the stranger. They traded glances, Louis forcing a smile and a wave. The sheriff walked up to the truck. Lewis started to speak as the sheriff explained that it was just the siren being worked on and the crew was trying to finish for the weekend. The sheriff told Lewis to take it easy. Restarting the stalled truck, he pulled into the parking space. "Viva Las Vegas" was playing. It didn't matter. It was Friday night. His quiet escape quickly evaporated into a noisy roar of young girls anticipating Elvis. He had to leave. Exiting the theatre, he looked down the street and saw the old train station raised on pilings to match the tracks as they descended from the bridge. The train would be his escape. He had little money and the truck would be a target. The tracks were the only way out. He would wait and jump a freight. He drove toward the bridge, where he would wait for the slow moving train. As he topped the levee he saw the Longhorn bar. He needed a drink. Opening the door, flashes of his nightmare buckled him.The juke box roared. Working men were letting off steam in their practiced ways.
     As he sat at the bar, a familiar voice came from the crowd. "Lewis, damn Lewis. Man, we gotta talk".
    It was Frank, one of the guys he knew from trucking. Frank had been at Sherry's.
    Louis pulled Frank outside. Louis hadn't killed Larry. Larry was fine and no one was looking for them. Larry had been heard telling the cops that he'd take another whipping to get rid of that woman. No charges had been filed.
    Again a siren sounded. From the bar's parking lot, Frank and Larry looked down on the ferry landing as the sheriff's car came to a screaching hault at the water's edge. A night fisherman was motioning across the river. The sheriff got into his boat and they crossed the dark waters. Louis knew.
   He told Frank that he had to go back to the hotel to get the girl and tell her the good news.
   As if choreographed, a train's bright light flashed slowly across the bridge, its whistle blowing. This was his chance. He drove the truck under the bridge, parking it in the shadows. He climbed the embankment to just below the tracks and waited, hoping for an opened box car. He had to get to its roof qickly or be exposed to the town. He jumped, climbing the ladder. He lay flat, looking to the side as he passed the station.
Then he saw her, the arrow still piercing her chest.
His chest burned, the pain, intolerable. He lost conscienceness and rolled off the car's roof and down the embankment, coming to rest at her muddy feet. He was gone. As was she.
The cause of his death was listed as "puncture wound to the heart, perpertrator, unknown."
The case remains open.

Back to reality

Based on an acount of a murder which occurred in Pointe Coupee Parish. Thanks to Ray for supplying that story. This is vaguely, very vaguely, simular.