I felt weightless, as though I were swinging in the world’s most uncomfortable hammock, before noticing a less-than-pleasant pulling sensation on my armpits and ankles as I regained consciousness.
“Jesus Christ, how much does this fucking guy weigh? I feel like I’m lifting a bag full of anvils here.”
“Aye, he’s a big ol’ slab o’beef, I’ll give ya that. Plus, now that he’s wrasslin’ full time the eejit’s doubled down on his workouts an’ nutrition.”
“You mean he’s still trying to get bigger?”
“Let’s just say when he’s not pumpin’ up his pipes or chesticles in the gym the mad bastard’s suckin’ back on so much protein powder an’ banana milkshakes there’s entire species o’monkeys in Madagascar that are endangered now cuz o’his big arse.”
I open my eyes to see Declan’s staring straight down at me, and although his face was still mostly hidden by the brim of his Stetson and his amber-tinted aviator sunglasses, I could still detect a certain amount of concern.
“There’s me boy!” he crowed, before dropping me in dirty sawdust like a foil-wrapped hot potato right off the grill.
My shoulders hit the ground with a thud. I looked up and saw Randy Pippen, who had been holding my ankles, follow suit and let go of my legs. I tried to sit up but immediately felt woozy, only then experiencing the throbbing sensation from the top of my head where Harland “Hot Saw” McGraw had hit me with an axe. But considering there was no gash or blood, and just a small goose egg that I could feel on the crown of my noggin, I realized he must have hit me with the flat side of the tool’s blade.
“Took a wee bit o’a beauty sleep there, didn’t ya, Princess?”
I groaned as I pressed both of my palms against my temples, which felt with each pounding of my pulse as if they were a heartbeat away from exploding.
“McGraw?” I croaked, as I fought off a wave of nausea and continued to massage my aching skull.
“He took off out of here like a shot,” griped Pippen. “What the hell did you say to him?”
“Excuse me?”
“I just want to know why the semifinals for my highly popular hot saw competition are about to start and I’m missing my marquee attraction. For Christ’s sake, Ounstead, the guy’s named after the event.”
“Keep yer Alans on there, Mister Poopin’,” cautioned Declan, before lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag. “Give me Col Gaolta a goddamn minute.”
“It’s Pippen!” he exclaimed. “How many times do I have to tell you that?”
I dragged myself to my feet and braced myself against a stack of rubber tires, only then realizing we were near the pile of debris that Pippen had me haul a stack of wooden cookies to earlier. The hot saw section of the wood chopping pit was abuzz with chatter while the song “Green Grass and High Tides” by The Outlaws played over the loudspeakers. I took a couple of shaky steps forward and peered around the plastic tent we were behind to see an excited crowd taking their seats in the bleachers, waiting for the chainsaw action to commence.
“So, what? The Deadeye Douche just bolted, then?” asked Declan.
“Yeah. And now he’s on the lam because I busted him for a bribe.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” asked Pippen.
I filled in Pippen and Declan about my conversation with McGraw and how he had confessed to paying off Kelly Lewis—under the assumption Jasper would be game to take the cash and drop out as a contender for the STIHL Timbersports sponsorship.
“Son of a bitch,” muttered Pippen. “Harland killed him after all. I guess he must have snuck back into the pit when I wasn’t looking.”
“McGraw swears he didn’t murder Jasper, but I honestly don’t know. I mean, with his desperation to become the STIHL rep for the Pacific Northwest and his axe-throwing prowess, there’s no denying he had a clear motive and the means.”
“Aye, but let’s not forget about the Bowie-bladed bastard with the mental disorder,” chimed in Declan. “Take it from me, ya never want to count out crazy.”
Lewis, I thought to myself. Killer or not, the guy had been instrumental in setting up a payout with McGraw, whether my detective instincts were rusty or not. Anyway you cut it, of one thing I was certain—the attempted bribe to get Jasper to drop out of the STIHL sponsorship had played a critical role in the homicide.
I flipped open my EDC pouch to retrieve my phone, only to see I had three missed calls from Annie. I tried to ring her back, but it went straight to voice mail.
“Howdy! This here’s Annie, and I reckon I must be off ropin’ a steer or somethin’ cuz unfortunately I ain’t able to pick up the phone right now—”
I almost felt sad having to end her recorded message early, as hearing her perky voice provided me with the first bit of welcome relief I had received since taking the blunt force of an axe to the head.
A buzzer blared followed by the announcer’s voice booming over the speakers. “Take your seats, Folks! The semi-finals for the hot saw competition will begin in five minutes!”
“Sorry, Boys,” said Pippen. “Duty calls.”
“I appreciate the help, Pippen,” I said, and the loggersports honcho nodded politely before trotting off around the tent to oversee the impending event.
“We have to get to Lewis in the security station,” I declared. “And if the Mounties haven’t taken him away yet, then I need to call him out on the attempted payoff. I think that might get him to talk.”
“Let’s crack on with a run then!” Declan replied enthusiastically, as he slung the straps of his beer backpack over his shoulders and tightened them.
I wobbled on my feet a little just at the thought of breaking into a run. I held a hand to my still pulsing head. “Can’t do it, D. Not yet.”
“Shite, yer right,” he conceded, snaking out a strong hand and helping to steady me.
“Damn it,” I snapped in frustration.
“What is it, Mate?”
“There’s not enough time to get ostriches here either.”
“Jaysus, Jed, how hard did that chancer hit ya?”
“Never mind,” I said, waving away his confusion. “We just need to find another way to get across this country fair—”
“Tits sweet?” interjected Declan excitedly.
“Yes, D,” I said, in a rare moment of acceptance of his dirty dialect. “Tits sweet.”
“Deadly,” he said, as a grin spread across his face. “Lucky for yer arse, I got us a solution.”