by Ben Rehder
“Not to state the obvious, but if Harley met anyone in person, they probably had to come to him,” Marlin said. Virtually everybody in the county knew that Harley didn’t travel far from home. “Maybe his phone records will tell us—”
The door to the conference room opened and Ernie Turpin stuck his head in. “Am I interrupting?”
“Nope, especially if you’ve got something for us,” Garza said.
Turpin entered with a manila folder, which he placed in the center of the table in front of the sheriff. Marlin saw two words written in black marker on the front of the folder.
Stag Party.
“Found this a few minutes ago,” Turpin said. “Eight letters inside—or copies, I should say, not the originals—and it looks like all of them are addressed to various companies that sell or manufacture hunting products.”
“Stag Party?” Garza said, reaching for the folder.
Marlin had to smile. “I guess Harley already had a name for the product.”
“Oh, okay. I get it,” Garza said. He opened the folder and spread the eight photocopies across the table. Marlin and Tatum both leaned in. Turpin excused himself and left the room to continue sifting through Harley’s files.
Marlin quickly read one of the letters. The text was fairly simple: Harley mentioned that he had invented the well-known product called the Turkey Charmer, which had sold tens of thousands of units in the past twenty-three years. Now, he said, he had produced the most powerful deer scent ever made, and he offered to give a product demonstration to a representative of the company. Harley stressed that he wanted to sell the formula outright for a flat upfront price. He wasn’t interested in any sort of licensing arrangement that would earn him royalties or a share of future profits. Marlin figured that type of arrangement—a flat price—made sense for a man who was 102 years old. Get the money now, not later. The text for all eight letters appeared to be identical.
“I’ve heard of a couple of these companies,” Garza said. “The others...”
“Several are more like regional companies, not national,” Marlin said. Then he saw one in particular that caught his eye. He tapped it. “This one’s interesting.”
“Oh, right,” Garza said. “That is interesting.”
“Endicott,” Bill Tatum said. “Why is that name familiar?”
“Ever hear of Endicott Empire?” Garza asked.
“Oh, that hunting show?” Tatum said. “I know that family is right down the highway, but I’ve never seen it.”
“Me, neither,” Marlin said.
Garza looked at him. “You kidding me? You’re the game warden around here.”
“I know, I know. I tried to watch it once, when it first came on, but I didn’t have that channel, or maybe I just couldn’t find it.”
“I’ve seen a couple of episodes,” Garza said. “It’s not really a hunting show, although there is a lot of hunting on it, and fishing. It’s like the cameras just follow the Endicotts around and film their daily lives, when they’re working and when they’re not, and they throw in some information about the products they make.” He turned toward Tatum. “See, the weird thing is, one of the sons died last week at their ranch in South Texas. Jasper Endicott.”
“Yeah, I heard about that,” Tatum said. He was looking back and forth between Garza and Marlin, because he knew there was more to the story. “Some sort of hunting accident, wasn’t it?”
Marlin said, “He went out bowhunting one afternoon and didn’t return. The ranch manager found him dead the next morning not far from his tree stand. The medical examiner in Webb County concluded that he’d been gored several times by a buck.”
Tatum read between the lines. “That doesn’t happen often, does it?”
“Extremely rare,” Marlin said. “Hunters are way more of a danger to themselves than the animals are.”
“Think Harley’s scent would make a buck be that aggressive?” Tatum asked.
“Seems like a reasonable question,” Marlin said, “based on the bucks we saw at Harley’s place.”
Turpin poked his head in the door again.
“I like that grin on your face, Ernie,” Garza said. “I’m hoping it means good things.”
“I don’t know about that,” Turpin said. “I’m not sure what it means, to be honest, or if it’s relevant, and maybe I shouldn’t be smiling.” He had a small prescription bottle in his hand that he placed on the table.
Garza picked it up, read the label, and said, “Sildenafil citrate.”
“It’s Viagra,” Ernie said. “Ol’ Harley had a prescription for Viagra.”
7
The Endicott family shot to nationwide fame and attained significant wealth as the result of a Halloween put-on gone awry.
Prior to the gag, the family had amassed a modest fortune and a certain mid-level celebrity among hard-core hunters and fishermen, chiefly in the southern states. The Endicotts were known for their small but successful product line—game calls, turkey and duck decoys, baits and lures, and baseball caps featuring the Endicott logo in a vivid neon orange that could be seen from a distance of two hundred meters.
But their popularity exploded when their manager—a clever young University of Texas MBA named Ron Rosen—suggested that the family create a video.
“Not a TV commercial,” he explained. “A video we can upload to YouTube.”
“What sort of video?” the Endicotts asked. “For a particular product?”
“No, a branding video. Maybe four or five minutes long. Something to reach all those folks outside our normal customer base—people who don’t normally hunt or fish. We need to do something unexpected to grab their attention. Maybe cause a stir. Kinda get wild.”
Wild? The Endicotts weren’t sure about getting wild, but if it might create an increase in annual sales, they were willing to explore the idea. Ron led the discussion, and a number of mediocre concepts were proposed, but it was Jasper who came up with the winning idea.
“Maybe we should poke fun at ourselves,” he said. “Lotta people think hunters are a bunch of backwoods hillbillies. We could do, like, what’s the word...when you exaggerate something?”
“A caricature?” Ron said. “A spoof?”
Jasper was nodding. “Yeah, that. Halloween’s coming up. We could put on costumes.”
“Oh, that’s hilarious!” Ron said. “Very funny. And self-deprecation is always a winning strategy.”
Walter “Big Daddy” Endicott, the patriarch, was not convinced. He grumbled and mumbled and raised various objections. “A lot of our customers are actual backwoods hillbillies. We’ll just piss ’em off.”
“But think of Jeff Foxworthy and his ‘You might be a redneck’ routine,” Ron insisted. “That’s a classic. And you know who loved that bit? Rednecks did!”
“Well, I guess Larry the Cable Guy is pretty funny,” Big Daddy admitted grudgingly.
“Exactly! Our target audience will love it, but so will non-hunters. It’s perfect!”
On the day of production, before filming began, Ron showed the family some old clips from Hee Haw. “We’re going to do the same sort of thing,” he said. “Stand by a picket fence and tell corny jokes. Swap tall tales. Just goof around and have fun with it. We have a script, but nothing’s in stone. Feel free to ad lib. Whatever feels natural.”
Everything went surprisingly well for the first several hours of the shoot, and the end result would have been a perfectly acceptable—and forgettably bland—promotional video.
Then, after a break for lunch, someone brought out several bottles of bourbon to use as props. Props, yes, but the bourbon was real, and the Endicotts indulged. It wasn’t long before tongues were loosened and the Endicotts’ remarks became quite a bit more colorful. Then they became edgy.
Then they became offensive.
“Know why Mexico doesn’t have an Olympic swim team? All their swimmers are in the U.S.!”
“What do you call a gay dentist? A tooth fairy!”
&
nbsp; “Did you hear about the winner of the Muslim beauty contest? Me neither!”
The drunken family members kept laughing.
And the cameras kept rolling.
The following morning, when the Endicotts sobered up, they instructed Ron that their off-color jokes were not to be included in the video under any circumstances.
Ron agreed wholeheartedly. Or he appeared to. Later he decided to take the biggest risk of his career. He uploaded a version of the video that portrayed the Endicotts as small-minded, loud-mouthed bigots. In other words, it revealed their genuine personalities.
Within minutes of the video going live, Ron’s phone began to ring. Dirk was calling. Then Jasper. Then Big Daddy. Ron was too scared to answer. He was hunkered down, waiting, and hoping his gamble would pay off.
Within four hours, the video went viral and tallied more than one million views on YouTube.
Then media commentators began to chime in, roundly condemning the Endicotts for the apparent lack of tolerance for anyone who wasn’t just like them. Then other media commentators chimed in, claiming, in roundabout words, that the Endicotts’ lack of tolerance should be tolerated by those who preach tolerance.
At that point, Big Daddy Endicott left a blistering voicemail for Ron, telling him in no uncertain terms that he was fired, effective immediately. He could also expect to face a massive lawsuit. In fact, he’d wind up in prison if the Endicotts had anything to say about it. And he might just get a good ass whooping if Big Daddy ever saw him again.
Two days later, the family arranged an interview with Anderson Cooper, intending to apologize profusely and attempt to make amends with the various groups they had offended. For the first few minutes, the segment went well. The Endicotts appeared appropriately contrite and remorseful.
Jasper said he was “awful dang sorry for making those stupid comments.”
Dirk said he regretted “shooting his mouth off like some sort of hayseed.”
Sissy, who reminded many viewers of Ellie May Clampitt—albeit with a sassier attitude and wiser fashion choices—said, “We sure didn’t mean to hurt anybody’s feelings. My granny always said if you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all. We should’ve followed that rule.”
Donna Endicott—the one family member who hadn’t made any offensive remarks—said, “I always tell ’em when you drink whiskey, Satan crawls right into your mouth and gets control of your tongue.”
And Big Daddy Endicott said, “We wanna make it clear we ain’t got nothing against any of those people—in spite of their sins.”
Oops.
Cooper pressed Walter to expand on that statement. “Who are ‘those people,’ and what exactly are their sins?”
“Don’t get me wrong—we’re all sinners—but some of us is forgiven, and some of us ain’t,” Big Daddy said evasively.
“Who isn’t forgiven?” Cooper asked, sensing that he was on the cusp of some exceptional television.
“Well, maybe I shouldn’t be pointing fingers,” Big Daddy said. “It’s just that some behaviors are an abomination unto the Lord.”
“That’s true, Daddy, but we’re here to say we’re sorry,” Sissy interjected nervously. “We hate the sin, love the sinner. Don’t y’all forget that part!”
“Are you talking about gay people, for instance?” Cooper asked Big Daddy. “And Muslims? You’re saying those people are sinners?”
Big Daddy said, “I’m not saying it, the good book says it. It’s the basis for all morality.”
“Meaning the Christian Bible?” Cooper asked. He had a positively gleeful expression on his face by this point. This was getting interesting. A ratings bonanza, for sure.
“What other good book is there?” Big Daddy said. “Those folks need to accept Jesus, just like me and mine have done. It’s the only path to salvation.”
“And what if they don’t?” Cooper said.
“Well, it ain’t my doing, but they’ll burn forever in a lake of fire.”
The response to the interview was immediate.
Critics called for a boycott on all Endicott products. Left-leaning journalists wrote scathing opinion pieces accusing the Endicotts of promoting hate, inequality, and discrimination. Facebook users wrote profane and sometimes threatening comments directed at the Endicott family.
Supporters, on the other hand, vowed to purchase more Endicott products than they usually did. Right-leaning journalists proclaimed that the Endicotts had as much right to their opinions as anyone else. Facebook users wrote profane and sometimes threatening comments aimed at those Facebook users who had written profane and sometimes threatening comments directed at the Endicott family.
And one popular outdoors-oriented cable TV channel offered the Endicotts a surprisingly large amount of money to star in a reality show to be called Endicott Empire. Suddenly, the criticism from the left-leaning, socialist, freedom-hating, God-bashing media didn’t sting nearly as much as it had before.
The Endicotts immediately apologized to Ron—because they now realized that he was a genius—and they asked if he would return as their manager. After all, they needed someone to negotiate the contract.
8
Sissy Endicott rose from the bed, fully nude, and bent to retrieve her black, lace-trimmed bra from the floor. She put it on, then bent again to grab the matching panties. She moved with a level of self-confidence that many men would have found intimidating. She bent once more to pick up her blue jeans.
“Good lord. You keep doing that and we might have to go for round three,” Ron Rosen said from the bed. He had his hands behind his head on the pillow.
Sissy turned to face him and raised an eyebrow. “All talk,” she said.
“Hold on a sec,” he said. He gave her body an exaggerated inspection, from head to toe. “Yep, I just felt some movement.”
She shook her head and continued dressing. “I swear. You’re like a kid with a toy. We just went to a funeral yesterday afternoon, for God’s sake. I’m in mourning. Have some respect.”
She spoke with a much less pronounced accent now than she did on the show. Ron was always amazed she could turn it on and off like that. And the way she created the Sissy persona; she was actually a damn good actress. For instance, she had pretended on the show that she and her brother Jasper had a very close emotional bond. The viewers bought it. And Sissy was much smarter than the public would ever know—the one who drove most of the decision-making within the Endicott family. She had a good head for business and PR.
“Well, to be technical,” Ron said, “it wasn’t actually a funeral.”
Sissy worked her hips back and forth as she pulled her jeans up to her waist. The day before, the entire family had worn jeans to Jasper’s mock funeral. Starched and creased, with expensive hand-made boots. It’s what the viewers would expect. The family had worn more traditional bereavement attire to the real funeral, which had not been filmed.
Sissy hadn’t replied to Ron’s comment.
“How you holding up?” he asked.
She was buttoning her blouse in front of the mirror.
“You’re my therapist now?” Sissy said.
“Hey, it’s a legitimate question.”
“I’m fine,” she said.
“You sure?”
She stopped what she was doing. He wasn’t expecting a sincere answer from her, because that wasn’t her style, but she gave him one.
“I feel guilty, if you really want to know,” she said.
“Yeah?” Ron wasn’t sure what to say. “Well, you shouldn’t.”
Before he could respond further, his cell phone on the nightstand vibrated. He checked the number. Didn’t recognize it. Let it go to voicemail.
“Sissy,” he said, “it’s only natural that—”
“Let’s not talk about it, okay? I’m tired of talking. I’m tired of everything right now. Tired of the bullshit. Just want everything to go back to normal.”
She tucked her blouse into her jean
s.
“Fair enough,” he said. “But you should remember that you didn’t do anything wrong.”
“That means so much to me, coming from a guy with a sense of ethics as deep as a puddle of spit.”
“Hey, what did I do?”
“Hello? You have a girlfriend, remember?” She sat in an upholstered chair and pulled her boots on.
“She’s not really my girlfriend,” he said. “And she lives in L.A.”
“Does she think she’s your girlfriend?” Sissy asked.
“Uh...”
“And how about getting the entire family drunk and letting the cameras roll? You don’t think I know it was you who had the whiskey brought out?”
He had to grin. “And it was brilliant, wasn’t it? Made you a rich lady. You could walk away now and never work another day in your life.”
“Don’t tempt me,” she said, rising from the chair. “Believe me, I’ve thought about it.”
He sat up in bed. “Hey, I was just making a point. You wouldn’t really do that, would you?”
Her only response was a coy smile.
After she left, he checked his phone. The caller had not left a message. The 830 area code made Ron nervous, because he recognized it. He Googled the number and saw that it came back to the Blanco County Sheriff’s Office.
It had been nearly a full day since their discussion with the cop, but Billy Don would still look at Red on occasion and shake his head, meaning, Man, that was a stupid thing you said yesterday. Just like he was doing now.
The thing was, how could Red have known it was stupid? When he’d said it, he hadn’t known Harley had been murdered. As soon as Deputy Tatum revealed that little fact, Red realized that claiming he had a verbal agreement with Harley meant Red stood to benefit from the old man’s death. That meant he’d made himself a suspect in Harley’s death. Or, at a minimum, as they said on some TV shows, Red was a “person of interest.”
