They continued to sit quietly for a time. Finally, Mother got up and left. Muddy continued to sit. There was something on his mind. He wasn’t very upset about the Dumpsite. He knew something Mother didn’t.
Nine — Dumpster/Muddster
The alarm went off. Muddy showered, shaved and headed to the car. As Mudd was entering the rented black sedan he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. Mudd turned the key and the car started. It was purring like a kitten. He started his trip to the mall. First a turn to the left and he would be on the main road. There was a noticeable movement in the rear-view mirror he was being followed. He told himself to stop thinking so much and concentrate on his driving.
He occasionally kept his eye in the rear-view mirror. About a mile down the road he made a right turn. As he glanced into the rear-view mirror again he was sure a green van was following him.
What should he do? What would 007 do? Pull over, hide in the bushes and follow the car as it passes. He went around a bend and pulled into a dirt space behind some high bushes. He waited. Within seconds the green van went flying by. On the side of the van was printed, Karry Kennels. He pulled out, with some difficulty, to follow the van but when he hit the road it was gone. His paranoia was getting the best of him.
After spending three hours at the local music shop, searching for matching drum sticks, he had found two pair. Muddy was very particular when it came to matching his sticks.
Mudd was still paranoid. No green automobile followed him from the mall. The trip home was uneventful until he crossed route nine. There it was hiding behind the 007 bushes. He passed by. The green van pulled out but went the other way. He thought, safe as last, safe at last.
Mudd began to wonder how things were going in Atlantic City. Mother probably has everyone eating out of his hand and ready to close the deal. He couldn’t wait to hear how it all went. The Muddster was getting used to living high on the hog at Chateau 54. He wanted to continue the life he was enjoying.
It was 2:35 in the afternoon, Mother would be rolling in soon. Muddy parked the car and headed to his new digs for a change of clothes. He acknowledged everyone with a friendly greeting.
After he freshened up he dressed and turned on the TV to check the news and weather. The same old news and the same old nasty weather, he hit the remote and shut the TV.
The phone rang. It was Mother. “Hi Mudd, are you interested in a cup of coffee and some pumpkin mousse tarts? I brought a couple back from my favorite bake shop in, Northfield.”
“How did everything go?”
“All went well. Meet me in the coffee shop in 20 minutes and we’ll go over the details.”
Mother had him on pins and needles. He had him wait 20 minutes, for what? Mudd channel surfed for the next 10 minutes and found nothing which interested him. He again checked his watch. There were 9 minutes and 18 seconds to go. It seemed more like 3 hours as the 9 minutes ticked away. He checked his watch again as he began a countdown, 6 minutes and 10 seconds, 5 seconds, 1 second. He couldn’t wait any longer, the coffee shop called.
Mother was already sitting at their table. “You’re late. I thought you’d be anxious to know what happened.”
“Me? Anxious? Come on you know me better than that.”
“Exactly Muddy.”
“All right, all right, no need to rub it in. What happened?”
“Lots to tell, but first let’s order some coffee to go with these delicious pumpkin mousse caramel tarts.”
The coffee arrived. Mother inhaled his pumpkin whatcha-ma-call-it, as Muddy perked up his ears to listen. Mother was relaxed and slow to let Mudd know how the meeting went? Muddy waited. Another 10 seconds and he would lean over and punch him in the nose. No, he wouldn’t. He would ask.
“Well, what happened? Are we still in the music business? Should I pack? Will I have to pay for the plane ticket?”
“Muddy, relax. They loved the music. I gave my short speech and played the songs. Vince said and I quote, ‘If everything else goes as well as the music sounds, we have a hit movie on our hands.’ What do you think?
Muddy opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out.
“The Muddman, at a loss for words. What is this world coming to? Close your mouth my friend, there are a dozen or so flies in the room looking for a home.”
“All right you’ve had your afternoon laugh fest, spill it.”
“Listen Mudd, they were delighted with the music we had for them and can’t wait to hear the finished product. We need to spend the next two-three weeks finishing all the tracks for the different scenes. Then I will call Duke and have him write arrangements for strings and horns to sweeten the tracks.”
“Sounds like you have it all figured out, Mother. By the way who is Duke?”
“He’s a friend in the music business. The guys asked if you and I would scour the area for an old factory building. They’re also looking for a wooded area to use as the dumpsite.”
“Might be fun.”
“Good! I’m glad you think driving in circles will be fun. We’ll continue to write until the ideas dwindle down to a precious few.”
I’m so excited. Calm down you old fart. What did I call myself?
I wonder if Mother has an inclination about me being at the dumpsite when all the stuff went down. When the dumpsite scene came in the mirror it took me a while to realize I was there. I had come to visit my good friend Noodles. He lived on Midland Avenue in Saddle River Township. Noodles told me about the dumpsite. He would go there and find all sorts of goodies. I didn’t believe all the stories he told so on that fateful day I went with him to see what we could find.
Little did I know what would happen when we arrived. The mirror didn’t show Noodles and me looking on from the high mound to the north. We noticed a bunch of kids approaching from the east as they climbed to the crest of a mound. They probably heard the same noise as Noodles and I and were just as curious.
When it was all over, Noodles and I disappeared quickly. We wondered if anyone had seen us. We didn’t think so. Both of us were scared to death. We took an oath to never tell anyone. Noodles moved out of the area two years later. I didn’t hear from him for 25 years when he suddenly appeared at a local mid-town Manhattan shot and beer joint while I was having a liquid lunch. He asked me to lend him a couple of hundred bucks. I did. Another 20 or so years and who do you think I ran into after moving to Las Vegas. Yep! Noodles!
Later in the studio.
“How was traffic on the Parkway?” Muddy asked.
“Moved along except for a few construction areas.”
Muddy thought he should keep the conversation light. Mother was in a thinking mood. Muddy, knew him well enough - he enjoyed talking. When he hangs around and says nothing something is not right. Mother, spoke first.
“All right, Muddy, here is the story, from my lips to your ears.”
“My ears are tingling. Go on.”
“As you saw in the mirror last night I’m one of the seven kids. The movie is loosely based on our lives. We figured all of the people at the dumpsite must have passed by now.
My son, Carl, is writing the movie script. He is adding what he thinks will make a good Hollywood movie to the true story, the actual events, if you will.”
“How’s Carl doing?”
“He’s doing fine. Still living the simple life.”
“Didn’t mean to stop you, continue.”
“The meeting I went to last week was one of our regular gatherings. They used to be once a year in some off the map place but lately we have been meeting more often. A few incidents have happened these past couple of years to make it so.”
Mother continued. “We refer to each other as Mr. V, C, J and L. For many years we tried to forget about the incident. Way back when, we would check newspapers and watch TV but never saw anything concerning the dumpsite. About a month later we all saw a picture in the newspaper of a missing man. It looked like
the guy they were beating at the dump but we weren’t sure. We thought about coming forward with the information we had but thought no one would believe us. We met at our favorite smoking spot. The swamp which ran from Midland Avenue, to the edge of what was then called, East Paterson. We made a pact to keep all to ourselves. We weren’t close enough to recognize anyone and couldn’t see the license plate numbers. We were scared. Any questions, Muddy?”
“Not yet.”
“Three of the guys got caught up in house break-ins, auto theft and other small crimes when they became teenagers. They continued into their early twenty’s. When we were around 23, the newspapers reported a car with three young men had gone off a mountain road on the way to Greenwood Lake. Herb, Freddie and Lou were in the car. All killed. It was a sad day for us even though we had gone our separate ways. The four of us still lived in the general area. One day we decided to get together and discuss the accident. Most, if not all of us thought they could have been murdered. Probably wasn’t true but with what we knew at the time it seemed possible.
“As the years passed we decided not to socialize with one another but meet once a year in some out of the way place. I think we just wanted to see if everyone was still around. There were no more incidents for 30 plus years. We had almost forgotten the dumpsite. Recently, we started to get paranoid. We either started to see things or maybe getting older and having families made us take the whole thing more seriously. Are you ready for more?”
“Don’t stop now, I’m all ears.”
“Every once in a while, one of us would see someone he thought looked like one of the guys who committed the crime we witnessed. Each time, we were able to conclude it wasn’t so. This went on for some years but recently we think there is something going on. We’re trying to get to the bottom of our suspicions. I’ll tell you what we have found out later because it gets complicated and would take too much time. I want to finish this story before you fall asleep.”
“No! No, you have my full attention.”
“I was not able to tell you anything about this because we vowed to keep this to ourselves. It could put you in the middle of a vendetta should you be privy to the crime. We were good friends for many years but this never entered my mind when we were hanging out. It seemed like a bad memory slowly going away. It didn’t. All of us have kept this a secret from everyone we’re associated with. It hasn’t always been easy. A few times I thought about talking to you. The other guys had similar thoughts, but all of us kept it to ourselves.”
“It must have been tough not to talk to anyone.” Muddy surmised.
“It was. Probably the main reason we’d meet. Our conversations were 90% about the incident. The rest was the how are you doing kind of stuff. I know I always felt better after a meeting with the guys. I’m sure the feeling was mutual,” Mother continued. “As I mentioned to you the other day. When I was a full-time audio engineer I worked with James recording some of the gold record groups he was producing. He put some of my tunes on a few of the albums and my bank account started to grow. I never became rich but I’ve had a good life. Some of the money I had was used to open Chateau 54. The four of us wanted to open a place for retired movie, music and theatre folks to enjoy their latter years in an atmosphere conducive to their life styles. We have 54 units or as we call them, suites.”
“So, you’re part owner of this magnificent place?” Muddy, asked Mother with a hint of jealousy in his voice.
Mother, noticed his tart question but continued as if he didn’t hear.
“Yes, but only a small part. Everyone put up what they could. I live here because I work here as well. I have certain duties. One is to make sure everyone is enjoying each day to the fullest. A fun job but a little stressful.”
“Seems you’re doing a great job. All the folks I’ve talked to love it here. By the way was the studio a money-making venture?”
“Thanks, Muddy. It’s been fun and no the studio was my idea. I took one of the rooms in my suite and built what you see here. When the guys found out Duke and I were writing music for ‘B’ movies they came up with the idea of making a movie about what happened at the dumpsite. So far it’s working out but still a lot of work to be done.”
“I’ll do my part.”
“I know you will.”
“I have something to tell you.” Muddy, said in a hesitant voice.
“Speak up!”
“I was at the dumpsite the same day as you and your friends.”
“Get ‘outta my face! You were no such thing.”
“Didn’t any of your guys see something to the right side of the mound you were hiding behind?”
“Funny, Lou claimed he saw something but we all said it must have been an animal.” Mother explained as he scratched his head in amazement.
“It was no animal, well a human animal. I was there with my friend Noodles. My family had just moved to Fair Lawn. Noodles was my neighbor. Then his family moved to Saddle River Township. His mother was a teacher in Fair Lawn and pulled some strings so Noodles could finish sixth grade. I would visit his new home on occasional weekends. One day we decided to see what we could find at the dump. We didn’t expect so many people to be there and the rest you know. What we witnessed scared the living daylights out of us.”
“I don’t believe it. If I’d known, I woulda told you.”
“Likewise, had I known.”
“I feel better now because I know that you know, what I know, that we know. Hold it! Hold it, let me start again.”
“I got it!”
“You got it? How come I don’t got it?”
“Don’t worry Mother, you’ll get it.”
Laughter ensued.
“It would be five years before we’d officially meet and start our musical adventure.” Muddy said.
Mother needed to take a few minutes to let all this information sink in. Hard to believe the Muddman was actually there. No more than 200 feet away from him and his friends. More amazing was the fact, they never told each other.
James had pulled Mother aside after the production meeting with some new information. Now that Muddy is a dump person, he should know. “Muddman, you up for some of the latest information concerning the dumpsite problem?”
“I am, most definitely, I am. Are we gonna have trouble?”
“Not too sure about the trouble. We all hope this thing blows over. On the other hand, closure after more then 50 years would be welcomed.”
Muddy had an anxious look on his face when he said. “Fill me in.”
“Here’s what James told me earlier today,” Mother slowly meted out the information to Mudd. “One of the original men who was at the dumpsite watching while his men beat up on the guy they were holding is still alive. He’s in his late 90’s and bound to a wheel chair. His grandson, Sean is now the top man. Apparently, the FBI has the family under surveillance for selling and distributing drugs.
“Vince, was contacted by law enforcement. When he found out what they wanted, he came clean. They told him they knew there were some kids at the dumpsite when all the stuff went down.
“It seems someone knows but only has partial information. James thinks someone has spilled the beans and it got into the wrong ears. There is no sense speculating. However, they think the guy in the wheelchair or his grandson want to get at us after all these years. They don’t know why he has a vendetta against any of us but they think he does. As of now they want us to go about our business as if we are unaware of what’s going on. By the way, James didn’t mention you or Noodles - they may not know the two of you were also at the dumpsite.”
“This could be a good thing.” Muddy said. “I can help watch things for you, you know, watch your back.”
“I don’t want you to be put in any danger.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll just be more aware of what’s going on.”
“Okay, back to the meeting.” Mother s
aid. “It’s possible someone heard what Vince, told the FBI some three years ago. Since then things are happening which didn’t happen before. Maybe we’re all getting old and paranoid?”
Mother continued. “We thought back to the 60’s when Herb, Freddie and Lou went over the cliff. Maybe they spilled some of the story and their accident was just an accident or maybe they gave up some information and were murdered.” Mother paused and said. “That’s all I was told.”
“Wow,” said Muddy.
Mother changed the subject to the studio.
“There are all sorts of musical ideas rolling around in my head.”
“Good. I have a few things to clear up as well. Studio in an hour?”
Mother went to his suite and called Gerald, who told him the items they needed had been ordered. Mother thought about asking him if he had been in the studio the other day but didn’t.
Mother opened the safe where he kept his logbook from the sixth and seventh grade. The logbook contained a lot of information about the sixth grade and especially the dumpsite. He quickly read through what he hoped would jog his memory. He didn’t get a feeling anything was there he didn’t already know. He put the logbook back and locked the safe. He would read it again in the morning. Maybe there was something he had missed over the years.
It was time for the studio; he had ideas and wanted to record them before they
disappeared forever.
In the next four hours, M&M were able to get over 30 minutes of various tracks recorded. Action effects, suspense feels, soft strings and a rhythmic nuance for an underlying accent to various scenes.
The extra work put on them to find sites for some of the shoots made it imperative to be professional about everything. In the morning they would start driving around the area. Mother, would spend part of the evening searching on his computer for possible spots to visit.
Morning came. Mother called Muddy.
“Uh!” Was all Mudd said.