03/30/01

I was home babysitting Mookie today. While he was down for a nap I went on the World Wide Web and read up a little more on the game of Cricket. I still have no idea how it's played even after reading for a half-hour. I was feeling a little anxious about practice tonight, then something happened that completely blew me away. This young dude appeared at the door, said he was researching Phil Palfrey's disappearance for a book. He said almost ten years ago he was the drummer in Phil's REM cover band, Spanking Time for Frankenstein. The minute he said this I know the guy was Roy-Roy. I knew about Roy-Roy from my own research on Phil's disappearance. But somehow I didn't want to let on to the guy I knew who he was already or that I had been doing my own work on the mystery. I don't know. Maybe that would be fucking creepy.

I've been reading the stories about the step-father, Hiram jumping from the bridge, and Phil's old girlfriend Bedelia being found murdered in the well, and I thought, you know, what the hell happened to the dude? You know? Then the police came around asking me about Phil and Bedelia when Phil was in the band, I thought, you know, this might be the book!

Why did you refer to Hiram as Phil's step-father? I ask anxiously.

Because Phil always said his biological father was a Thoreau, 'like the writer of Walden'. When I first started looking into things, I thought it was you, but now I understand you're his brother.

I'm not his brother! I stammer like a freak I think that's just insane! Phil is my nephew by marriage, that's all! Well, and a cousin too. . .but, you know. . .

Well the police seem to think you're his brother, from what I can gather.

The police (stroke, heart attack) seem to think what?!!!

03/29/01

I was spying on Phebe trying to spy on me this morning. She was on the computer looking through the files looking for my writing. Then she got up and I could see her going through stuff around the house looking for my disk hidden away no doubt. When she realized I was up she started to ask me about my Phebe Reynold’s story--- maybe she was trying to see if that was really what I’ve been writing all this time. She said I had to have a solid story structure and plot, otherwise it would be a waste of time. She said she reads so many romance novels she’s certain she could help me. She said that I needed at least two guys vying for Phebe’s affection. One would not be enough. I said I had two guys, don’t worry. Phebe said the problem with the Romeo and Juliet angle was that Phebe Reynolds selecting the Loyalist for her secret lover would be taken as an act of treason.

Not if Phebe Reynolds was aware her Loyalist lover was secretly acting as a spy for George Washington though, I say.

Oh. Well now. . .

By the way Phebe, I’ve been meaning to ask, how has your campaign running for the school board been going---running as Phebe Noonan?

Oh. Well now. . .

03/28/01

Phebe’s pushing hard for me to do something about Cupcake’s trailer. She said as long as it belongs to someone else, she doesn’t want it on the farm.

If someone moved into that thing, she says, and you didn’t get them out right away, they’d have squatter’s rights.

And then Phebe surprises me, floats the idea of buying the thing:

We do have an insurance check coming to cover the loss of the other trailer, she says, and it would be nice to do some traveling someday.

I imagined her going on to say: and it would be nice to a have a place to exile your ass again out back when you get on my last nerve.

As tough as it was to live out there in the Winter, I kinda miss the seclusion. To go back there to camp in the nice weather might be a real treat. Don’t know how keen Cupcake is on selling though. . .

So I guess there was a cricket practice today. I didn’t know about it because Percy never made me aware. The fucker. I guess Fauntleroy put his arthritic foot down again, told Percy again that, Joseph and I, we are a Pockidge deal, Mon. Percy called me just before and listed some websites where I could study how cricket is played. He said I had to take it seriously to avoid being cut from the team. I did a little poking around on the internet but it looked like some crazy ass shit that didn’t make sense.

Swami Hard Salami called too. He’s all psyched up to get back into cricket. He was happy to hear I was on the team, said he has some jobs for me when I’m out that way. Goodie. Said his offer of $800,000 for the farm was still good if I ever reconsider.

No!

Phebe just looked over my shoulder before. I wasn’t aware at first.

That doesn’t look like a story about the Revolutionary War, she says.

I’d prove you wrong, but that would disrupt the creative process, I say.

I’m such an asshole.

I really have to be careful not to leave a way for her to sneak and read this shit.

03/27/01

Back to watching the baby today. Phebe’s back at work. She’s plenty pissed at me for taking off yesterday, and then showing up later with Cupcake and her junky Winnebago to drag down the lane and dump off at the edge of Purgatory Swamp.

I find it real interesting, Phebe says, here you got all this talk of selling the place, and yet you let that girl dump a trailer on the place, junking up the place more than it already is.

I’ve been thinking a lot today about my lousy detective work. All this time Porch Rot had me believing it was Phil that was buried in the well. He did such a good job convincing me to stay quiet about it. And here the whole time he was covering up for the girl’s death--- whether it was Porch Rot or Phil who was responsible, I guess we may never know. I was thinking maybe Porch Rot wasn’t quite the dumb fucker I thought he was. He sure pulled off a good acting job. Who knew he had it in him? I’m still not sure which theory I favor more, the one that proposes that Phil Palfrey was the one who dumped the body, or the one that proposes that Porch Rot did. Then you have all these various scenarios related to the cause of death. Phil’s the only person left who might be able to shed light on things but I guess you really can’t assume he’s still alive.

I suppose at some point the forensics will come back from the girl’s remains and maybe they’ll know a little more about how she died.

Today would be a good day to get going on my Phebe Reynolds story, but I just spent the whole time the baby was down for a nap running Phil Palfrey’s name in a search engine. I guess maybe I’m like old Percy, using too much of my left brain.

I’m pretty sure the only reason the police went looking into that well was Stash Skimington tipping them off. No one has confirmed shit with me though but I can only think the tip came from Stash reading my shit that time.

I just keep thinking about what would have happened if I had followed through with trying to dig up Phil from the well to relocate him. I’d probably be facing life in prison. Good thing the frost was still in the ground. One time when Winter proved fortunate I guess.

03/26/01

Phebe and I had a big blowout argument after the call from the coroner. I still don’t know why it was so important for her to share the family dirt the way that she did. She said people already know the family dirt anyway. I said that just wasn’t true. She said I live in denial about most everything. It’s like it’s some kind of kick to her to share with the world how fucked up we are. She’s the fucking reason people know the dirt! I slept on the couch. Left the house early. I was supposed to report to probation but made a wrong turn like that guy in the Bruce Springsteen song and just kept goin’. Went to fucking Albany. Sat in the parking lot of the State Police Academy waited to see if I could see anything of my daughter. Thought better of the whole thing though when I started attracting attention of all those cops coming in and out of the place all the time. So I head home on the Thruway and who do I find stranded between the Kingston and New Paltz exits but Cupid Boy and Cupcake and the Fuckmobile Winnebago that Cupcake needed to get moved. Dumb ass that I am, I pull over in the breakdown lane. Nothing was done to fix the fucking radiator that I could tell. The thing drained out and overheated. Winnebago was now hitched to a big tow rig. I apologized to Cupid Boy for missing reporting. He said as I could see he was playing hooky too.

How bout you let us keep this parked at your farm, he says.

Now I got the Fuckmobile parked out back next to the burned up trailer. What the fuck am I going to say to the guy? No?