by Darrel Bird
Part Two
Jake Foley, county sheriff deputy debonair, and Hank Rupert, Oklahoma highway patrol met in a cornfield three miles out of Elk City, Oklahoma, stood and stared at the body of the slob in the immaculate Ford hard top convertible. Said slob, his head slightly out the driver side window continued to stare up at the azure blue Oklahoma sky.
Hank walked around to the other side of the Ford and stared into the window at the slobs belly where he could see a deep wound, the dried blood had stained the mans crotch with blood that had turned nearly black.
He walked back around the Ford to the driver side again, “Looks like he has been stabbed Jake, right in the gut, I’ll bet it took him a while to die. We’ll have to let forensics handle this one.”
He looked at the deputy in the brown suit with his pearl handled revolver in a cowboy tied down holster.
”Cripes Foley, you look like a damn nut with that gun!”
“I like the .45 Hank, the stopping power of a .45 slug comforts me a lot more than the nine mil issue the staties carry.”
“How many times you had to use that thing?”
“Well, I an’t never yet, but if I wuzta have too, it’ll bring a man down.” Jake spat at a corn cob, and missed.
“Who do you reckon killed him?” Jake looked at the man in the blue uniform with his smoky bear hat cocked slightly on his head, his bulbous nose protruding above his pearly white teeth.
“Now how the hell would I know that Jake, am I a mind reader of the dead?”
“There ain’t no tracks leading away from the scene of the crime since the last snow melted them all away.” Foley said, as he watched the flies that were busy going in and out of the slob’s mouth.
Hank snickered at the language Foley used, Mr. Detective Jake Foley… homicide. Crap, I got to put up with this guy?
“We got to call it in to state headquarters Jake. They’ll send out a forensics team to examine this guy. Hell, I’ll bet you know who he is don’t you Jake?”
“Yeah, he’s Arnold Cunningham, lives…lived… over the other side of Elk City, he’s a known pedophile, we just haven’t been able to pin anything on him yet.”
“Well, looks like Mr. Cunningham picked on the wrong customer this time.”
“I’ll tell you another thing Hank.” Foley said as he swatted at a fly that buzzed around his homely face.
“Well, go ahead, Jimminy crickets Foley, talking to you is like talking to the slob over there! Spit it out!”
“Well, you don’t have to be so grouchy Hank.” Foley said in his flat drawl. I’ve known you since we was kids, and you always been grouchy.”
“Well, you better get it out Foley, or I swear to God, I’m going to pull up a corn stalk and beat the shit out of you with it!”
“We got a problem Mr. Statie smart ass, this section of the county belongs to the tribes, we’re on Indian land and they got jurist prudence.”
“That’s jurisdiction dick head. Lets go call it in”, Rupert sighed, and opened the door of his patrol car.
Foley took a last look at the slob, as a fly perched on said slob's lip, and then sprang into the air, Boeing 707 heavy from slurping on the slob.
