Warm, Yummy, Wet & Salty: Black Star Canyon: Book 2 (Black Star Canyon Mystery Novel)

by C. C. Wall

  He showed it to Moe. “No, not at all.” Moe said. “This thing was completely disfigured. It was one of the most horrible things I have ever set my eyes on.”

  Chaney joined in. “Was he a huge fat ass?”

  “What?” Moe asked.

  “The monster?” Chaney asked. “Was it a huge, fat man? Like Gus?”

  “No,” Moe said. “He was built. Not fat.”

  “With a disfigured face?” Chaney asked.

  “Yep, ugly as sin,” Moe said.

  “Colt was reportedly shot in the face,” Chaney said. “Maybe it was him?”

  “I don’t know who you guys keep talking about,” Moe said. “I’m telling you that there is a monster up here in these woods.”

  Tom thought for a moment. “What would you say if I wanted to help you?”

  “Help me how?” Moe asked.

  “Let me stay with you for awhile and let’s see if we can’t get to the bottom of this.” Tom said.

  Moe nodded. “There is strength in numbers. Sure. I think it’s a good idea.”

  59 - I Dare You

  Jack made his last shrimp and ramen noodle meal. He was second guessing spending all the money that Eugene gave him on equipment and not on food, rent, bills, etc. He looked through his mail and saw that all of his bills were past due. That information made his shrimp ramen not taste as good. Along with the past due bills, there were some death threats in there too.

  That wasn’t a new thing for Jack.

  Jack opened the death threats and read them while eating, chuckling every time the writer used improper grammar or spelled something wrong. What made him laugh the hardest, was when people who would go through all the trouble to threaten to kill him, spelled his name wrong. Most people sending him these letters would spell his last name, Heart instead of the proper spelling of Hart.

  Jack was feeling a little better and went online to check the statistics of his website. He was getting more hits than the Black Star Register. He loved that. What Jack couldn’t understand though, was that he was probably the most famous person in Black Star Canyon now by far, but also the most hated. That was bitter-sweet for Jack. As much as he put on that he never cared what people thought about him, deep down inside, knowing that most everyone in town hated him, was crushing his spirit.

  So, Jack thought to himself, what do you do when people hate you so much that it crushes your spirit? You give them something to really hate you for! That was Jack’s big plan. That was the way that Jack was going to make sure that the people of Black Star Canyon would always remember him. To make them really hate his guts.

  He already exposed Lukas as a loose canon / murderer. He linked Mayor Jonathan Kensington to a triple murder and sexual assault of his own daughter, pretty much guaranteeing that Jonathan would never get a fair trial in Black Star Canyon. He made sure that Jonathan was impeached. So Jack thought hard about what he could do to top all that. What could he do to make those stories look small in comparison?

  Jack heard about severed hands showing up in the mail the last couple days around town but the only thing he knew for sure was that Ashley from the cafe was missing. He thought about how he could exploit that. He wondered if he could say that she was really dead? But, if she turned up alive, then his credibility would be in the toilet.

  A light bulb went off over his head. He had an idea that would shake Black Star Canyon to its core! He quickly ran over to his laptop and opened it up. Then, the phone rang.

  “Hello?” Jack said.

  A familiar voice was on the other end of the call. A voice that scared Jack to death. He turned clammy as the voice spoke.

  “You only write what I tell you,” the voice said.

  Jack forced himself to speak. “I just thought…”

  “You aren’t supposed to think,” the voice said. “I made it very clear to you that if you wanted everyone in town to know your name that there were certain things that you had to do for me. For me, not Eugene Wellington.”

  “I just needed new equipment,” Jack said. “Reagan took it all.”

  “Every problem you have,” the voice said, “will never be a problem of mine. Your only purpose in this world is to do what I say, when I say it.”

  Jack’s anger was building. He was shaking. “You know what? I don’t need you anymore. I am the most talented reporter out there. I can do this on my own now thank you.”

  All Jack heard on the other end of the call was a light chuckle.

  “All right then,” the voice said, “go ahead and write whatever you want. I dare you.”

  “I will!” Jack said and slammed down the phone. He stood up and stared at the phone to make sure that it wasn’t going to jump up and attack him. Once he felt that he was safe, he went into the kitchen and poured himself a stiff drink.

  “I don’t need him,” Jack mumbled. He sat down in front of his computer. “I’ll show him. I’ll show everybody! I’ll expose everything I know about that guy!”

  Jack started typing and something strange happened. His fingers didn’t fly across the keyboard as they once did. He looked up at the screen and saw that what he typed didn’t make any sense. Not one complete word in the bunch.

  Jack panicked and tried a few more times. With each pass at the keyboard, he became worse than the time before until finally, it was just letters and red lines underneath the entire thing from his spellcheck on the computer.

  His breathing was very shallow and rapid. He slammed his laptop shut. He grabbed a pen and jumped up looking for a notepad. He found one on the kitchen counter and leaned over to write on it. When he looked at it afterwards. There were no words, there weren’t even letters. Just scribbles and swirls.

  Jack couldn’t write.

  60 - Awkward Reunions

  The urge was severe. Reagan walked faster than he normally did. He dodged chairs, desks and people. All of this, just to get to the restroom. He walked up to the urinal and unfastened his giant belt buckle. Then something in the room grabbed his attention. What he saw was so strange, he almost forgot that he had to go.

  “What in God’s name are you doing?” Reagan asked.

  “Getting ready,” Chuck said. “I want to look my best.” Chuck was posing in front of the mirror. He sucked his cheeks in to make his face look more thin. He stood at an angle while sucking in his stomach to make himself seem more thin. He was even standing on the balls of his feet ever so slightly, just to make himself seem a little taller.

  Reagan shook his head in disbelief then began to relieve himself.

  Chuck grabbed Reagan by the shoulder and tried to turn him around. “I can’t tell if there is something in my teeth or if I’m getting a cavity, look!”

  Reagan spun around and lost control of his pistol. Spraying everywhere including the front of Chuck’s pants. “What the hell are you doing?” Reagan shouted. “I’m going here!”

  “My pants,” Chuck cried. “I have another pair. It’s okay.”

  “If I ever am in the shitter again, you turn your ass around and scram!” Reagan shouted. “You read me weirdo?”

  Chuck wasn’t really paying much attention. He was focused on the urine on his pants. “Yeah, yeah, sure.”

  When Reagan finished, he zipped up and tired to nudge Chuck out of the way so he could wash his hands. “Move, son.”

  “Oh, yeah, sorry,” Chuck said. “What about my hair? How does my hair look?” Chuck was pulling the long strands that were on top over to try to hide his enormous receding hair line.

  “All three of them look fine,” Reagan said. “As much as I might regret this, what the hell are you so ruffled up about?”

  “Dr. Clive will be here any minute and I want to look my best for her,” Chuck said. “She is an extremely sexy woman. Very career oriented. We are slightly in the same field, so I couldn’t possibly gross her out with stories of my day. She is just a catch. Any way you slice it.” He licked his fingers and slicked his hair down on top of his head.

  “S
trangely,” Reagan said, “that makes a lot of sense. Sorry I yelled at you.” Reagan grabbed some paper towels to dry his hands. “But never put your hands on me again if I’m holding it. You hear me?”

  “Loud and clear, boss.” Chuck smiled. “Let me go get those other pants out of my car.” He opened the door and screamed.

  “Jesus!” Reagan said. “What now?”

  “She’s here!” Chuck said. “Dr. Clive is in the lobby.”

  “So?” Reagan said. “Just walk out to you car. You don’t even have to talk to her.”

  “I can’t,” Chuck said, “she saw me.”

  “She saw you scream and slam the door shut?” Reagan asked.

  “Yes,” Chuck replied. He seemed to be hyperventilating.

  “Then you have bigger problems than a little bit of piddle down your front,” Reagan said. “Just calm down. I’ll walk out first, you go behind me and run out the back. Okay?”

  “Yeah,” Chuck said. “I think that might work.”

  Reagan opened the door and didn’t take more than a step out of it before he was face to face with Dr. Clive.

  “Sheriff, hello,” Dr. Clive said.

  “Hello,” he said. “How are you today?”

  “Fine, fine,” she said and looked over Reagan’s shoulder. She saw Chuck for a moment before he ducked and ran back down the hall. “Was that Chuck?”

  “Yes,” Reagan said. “He pissed himself and needed a new pair of pants. He will be with us in just a moment.”

  “He what?” she asked.

  “I’m kidding,” Reagan said. “I just needed him to run out and grab something out of my car for me.”

  She didn’t seem to be buying it. “I see,” she said. “Now, this Dakota Driggers that I’m interviewing, Chuck gave me a little bit of information on him, but could you give me more detail?”

  “Sure,” Reagan said. “He came in a couple nights back confessing to murdering his brother, Colt. He said he ran Colt’s motorcycle off the road with his truck and that Colt crashed down in a ravine. Said that the bone was sticking out of Colt’s leg and he stepped on it, then unloaded his gun into him. Dakota said he was dead as dead. We went there the next morning, there are skid marks from his truck, but no motorcycle and no Colt. Colt wasn’t admitted into the hospital and with injuries like that, I don’t think he would’ve survived.”

  “Doesn’t seem like it, no,” she said. “Do you know why this happened?”

  “Over a girl it sounds like,” Reagan said.

  “Has anyone been able to find Colt anywhere since?” she asked.

  “Nope,” he said. “But that’s not unusual for Colt. He’s always on the run from something.”

  “Hey Clockter Dive!” Chuck said. “Crud. I said that wrong. I’m so sorry.”

  “And you didn’t change your pants,” Reagan said.

  Chuck looked down and saw he was still wearing the same pants. He was holding the clean ones in his hand. “I spilled! It’s coffee! It’s coffee! I swear!”

  “Fine,” she said. “It’s coffee. Go change.”

  Chuck nodded and turned into the restroom.

  “How is he working out?” she asked.

  “In all honesty,” Reagan said, “he is amazing. He’s extremely bright. Great insight. Very upbeat…” Reagan didn’t know what to say. He knew Chuck really liked Dr. Clive so he stopped there, but knew the break sounded unnatural.

  “But, he’s kinda weird, right?” Dr. Clive said.

  Reagan chuckled. “Yes, in a very charming way.” Reagan smiled under his mustache. “Dakota is waiting for you in the interrogation room, right down this way.”

  Dr. Clive followed him down the hall and they stopped at the door.

  “Do you want me in there with you?” he asked.

  “No,” she said. “That won’t be necessary. In my experience, subjects seem to tense up around people with badges. I’m sure he won’t be a problem.”

  “All right,” he said. “Just holler if you get in any trouble.”

  “Will do, sheriff,” she said.

  Once Reagan turned away, she walked in the room and shut the door.

  “It’s about time,” Dakota said. “I’ve been waiting over an hour.” He squinted his eyes. “Wait a minute…”

  “Dakota Driggers,” she said as she walked closer to the light hanging above the table that Dakota sat at. “It has been awhile.”

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Dakota asked.

  “They wanted me to come see if maybe you are having a psychological episode,” she said. She sat down across from him.

  “You have got to be kidding me,” he said.

  “No, quite serious,” she said. “But enough about that. Let’s talk about you.” She leaned forward. “Why didn’t you ever call me back?”

  “Really?” he said. “Now is when you want to talk about this?”

  “This is the perfect time to talk about it,” she said. “You can’t forward my call to voicemail. You can’t avoid me. You have to talk to me.” She leaned in even closer and whispered. “I think that they are waiting for my opinion of you to see if they should release you. So, maybe you should be a little sweeter.” She smiled. She leaned back in her chair. “So you may or may not have killed your brother, I don’t care at all about that. I just want to know why you never called me back.” She crossed her legs. “I thought we had a really good time.”

  “That was like six months ago,” Dakota said. “We were drunk.”

  “Not the whole night,” she said.

  “The first part of the night we were, the part that was filled with mistakes we were,” he said.

  “I bet, I know why,” she said. “It’s that bony bitch, Bekka. Isn’t it? I should’ve wrapped that bandage around her throat instead of her face.”

  “Don’t talk about her like that,” he said. He was getting angry and his voice was raising.

  “Shhh,” she said. “All I have to do is tell them you are a few cards short of a full deck and you will be coming with me in a straight jacket.” She tilted her head and smiled. “That’s not a half bad idea. The thought of it is making me all warm and fuzzy inside. Scream away.”

  “What do you want?” he said. “The last few days have been a nightmare. I just need to get out of here and find Colt.”

  “Baby,” she said. “I can help you!” She slid her hand across the table and held his. “Let the good, sexy doctor lick your wounds.”

  He pulled his hand away.

  “Play ball, Dakota,” she said. “You are not in a place to have morals.”

  61 - Judge Judge

  Chuck had his clean pants on. He was feeling much better.

  “Looking sharp,” Reagan said.

  Chuck smiled. “Thanks.”

  A loud booming voice came in from the lobby. “Howdy ho! The judge is here!” The judge was a tall, thin man with grey hair. His arms and legs looked like they would go on forever. “Reagan, where are you?” he shouted.

  “Otis,” Reagan said, “get over here, buddy!” Reagan walked over towards him and Otis met him half-way. They gave each other a good friendly handshake. “How long are you going to be in town?”

  “A few days at least,” Otis said. “I figured you would need help drinking.”

  “I do, I do,” Reagan said. He motioned to Chuck to come over. “Chuck, this is probably the greatest man I have ever met. This is Judge Otis Judge.”

  Chuck was confused, “I’m sorry, You said judge twice.”

  “I know I did,” Reagan said. “That’s his name. Judge Otis Judge.”

  “Ah,” Chuck said. “Good to meet you, I’m Coroner Chuck Coroner.” He shook his hand.

  “Damn it, Chuck,” Reagan said. “His last name is Judge and he just happens to be a judge.”

  Chuck’s jaw dropped. “That is the most amazing thing I have ever heard. Kismet, huh?”

  “What did you say to me?” Otis said. He seemed offended.

  “Nothing,” Chuck sa
id. “That’s just great.” Chuck seemed to trail off. “I’m trying to think of other last names that could be professions. Fascinating.”

  Chuck turned around just in time to bump into Dr. Clive who was coming over to talk to Reagan. In doing so, he spilled hot coffee all down the front of his pants. He screamed.

  “Oh my,” she said. “I am so sorry. But, I guess that does happen doesn’t it?”

  “Yes!” he shouted. He then cleared his throat. “Yes, it does. I am going to go find a new pair of clean pants.”

  “He’s a weird one, ain’t he?” Otis said.

  “Sure is, Otis.” Reagan agreed. He looked at Dr. Clive. “What’s the diagnosis?”

  “Well, it’s hard to say without more tests,” she said. “I would like to admit him into the psych ward of our facility. Just for observation. I think he is dealing with some pretty heavy delusions. Thinking there is a conspiracy against him, the murder of his brother, etc. I would just hate to leave him on his own and if you release him now, who knows what he would do.”

  Reagan turned to Otis, “This is that thing I was telling you about over the phone. This is Dr. Clive. What do you think about this?”

  “Hello doctor,” Otis said. “I think, if the doctor thinks he’s is a risk to himself, or others, you could get away with a seventy-two hour watch on him, under the doctor’s supervision. If you need to keep him longer, doctor, just turn in a request in writing to the sheriff here within that time period with what your just cause would be and what the course of action should be. But, if his brother shows up dead, that’s a different matter entirely.”

  “That sounds perfect,” she said. “I will have some orderlies from the hospital come by to transport him shortly.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Clive,” Reagan said. “You have a good day.”

  “Where is everyone?” Otis asked.

  “They are waiting in the conference room for you,” Reagan said.