Chapter 17

 

We sat down at the kitchen table and the cops laid out the details. Not only was my cousin Abbott dead, he’d been murdered.

Officer Mike cleared his throat. “It appears that Abbott left WFOG about ten o’clock last night and headed over to...” He paused and looked a little embarrassed, “Jimmy’s Place.”

I thought Evelyn might faint, but she hung tough. I was glad to see that because I was starting to feel a little faint myself.

Officer Mike continued. “The bartender at Jimmy’s says Abbott had a few beers, then left around midnight. That’s the last anybody saw of him until this morning.”

Evelyn and I sat there dumbstruck.

“You should know,” Chief Cokie interjected, “that the rest of the story gets a bit gruesome.”

“Give it to us straight,” I said.

Evelyn winced, then seconded the motion.

We’d asked for it and Officer Mike gave it to us. “The garbage man found Abbott this morning. His throat was slit, and he’d been stuffed in a trash bag out behind the radio station, and there was something missing.”

“Oh, no,” Evelyn gasped. “Not his thing!”

The pancakes in my stomach flipped and made an unpleasant landing.

Chief Cokie winced. “Afraid so.”

Gruesome was right.

 

Abbott and I had never been close. In fact, when I thought of him, which wasn’t often, I generally thought of the bucktoothed, free-loading, redneck goober he was. Abbott was the kind of guy who, in adulthood, still enjoyed pulling the wings off flies, but even with his obvious shortcomings, no one liked to think of their own cousin knifed, vivisected in the private parts arena and stuffed in a Hefty bag.

“Who could do such a thing?” Evelyn said, shaking her head.

“You can bet we’ll do our best to find out,” Officer Mike said.

Jimmy’s Place was starting to sound like a real bad spot for a nightcap.

“Have you turned up anything yet on the last murder?” I asked.

After a long pause, Officer Mike said, “We’re working on it.” He was wooden enough in his delivery to land a big part on Law and Order.

 

I needed another cup of coffee badly, so I got up to make a fresh pot. All the bits and pieces of the past few days were flying around my head, colliding and exploding like multi-colored amoebas with lit fuses. The questions were lining up like Russians outside their first McDonald’s.

As it turned out, everybody else was ready for a cup of coffee too so I poured all around. This was drive-to-Detroit coffee, as Ted and I called it, the kind that came in the big can, all the caffeine you can handle and then some. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t touch the stuff, but Fogerty is no place to expect normal circumstances.

I took a hot sip and turned to Chief Cokie and Officer Mike. I wasn’t sure what it had to do with anything, but I asked anyway.

“Ever hear of Larry White?”

Officer Mike looked blankly at Chief Cokie. They both shrugged.

“How about filling us in?” Chief Cokie said, stirring a fourth teaspoon of sugar into her coffee. If she wasn’t careful, she’d end up on Law and Order, too.

 

I told them about Larry White’s recent generous offer for WFOG, and his interest in the Delozier place. It seemed like a long shot, but this mystery guy’s timing on the scene in Fogerty coincided pretty nicely with a couple of grisly murders. They agreed that a murder connection was a long shot, but said they’d look into it.

I felt a black cloud of major proportions settling over us. Reluctantly, it occurred to me that there was a distinct possibility that Evelyn wouldn’t be cashing her check any time real soon.

 

Later, Evelyn and I went to the radio station to see Alonzo and Agee. They were both visibly undone by their brother’s ghastly death, but they were staunchly carrying on at WFOG. While Agee half-heartedly deejayed, Alonzo sat with us and, through occasional tearful outbursts, he told us that he and Agee weren’t all that concerned when Abbott hadn’t come home the night before. 

“Abbott had been seeing this girl,” Alonzo said.

The three brothers had shared a trailer for years. It was easy to see how bringing a date home was really out of the question.

“What girl?” Evelyn said. “I don’t know anything about a girl.”

Alonzo shook his head. “She’s trouble. Agee and I both said so.”

“She have a name?” I asked. Under the circumstances I hated to be short with him, but Alonzo could get sidetracked.

“Her name’s Charlene. She’s a dancer over at Jimmy’s Place.”