by J Scaddon
Ida had her sons ready for school and began on the trek into town with them. She was hoping to buy a new flashlight if she could, along with reporting her missing shotgun. She was also planning to go and visit Dylan and encourage him to come and stay with her at her home for a bit. Just until they had dealt with the crazy lunatic who was prowling the area. Once again, it was a glorious morning and Jake and Joel had great fun running up and down the road as they went along. They were playing games with each other and making the most of their free time before their lessons started. Further up the road, the sound of sirens started to pierce the peaceful country air. Ida reined in her boys and stopped at the side of the road as those sirens gradually got closer.
Two patrol cars bounced around on the uneven lane that came down from town. There were few places that they could be headed for except for either Ida’s property or up to Whelan’s. There were no other properties around in that direction. Ida had not summoned them, so she could only assume that there was trouble at Whelan’s shack. As the two cars approached Ida and her boys, they slowed right down to a crawl.
“Mam!” said the first deputy, through the open window. He tipped his hat and then accelerated off. The second officer did exactly the same. The vehicles then disappeared off into a thick cloud of dust.
When Ida arrived in town, she took her boys straight to the school house and kissed them goodbye. She carried on down to Main Street and headed for Dylan’s new place of work. He was there, still wearing the same suit. His only suit, which was now starting to look grubby around the collar and cuffs. This was a good bargaining tool, as Dylan was neither much use at washing clothes or currently living with anyone who could do it for him. Ida pointed out that if he were to come and stay, he may have a longer walk to work in the morning, but he would do it on a full stomach and in a freshly pressed suit. Dylan agreed.
Also on Main Street, whilst looking for a flashlight, Ida bumped into Deputy Hanson. He was the only officer not tasked with attending Whelan’s shack.
“Mam!” he said, tipping his hat.
“Ah, Deputy Hanson,” said Ida, happy to have ran into him. “I need to report the theft of my shotgun.”
“Certainly,” replied the deputy, who was in a rather stressed state. He had been given the task of organising a meeting about the killer hobo. Sheriff’s orders. He had to get round as many people as possible as the sheriff wanted everyone gathered that evening. “But you are going to have to wait till tomorrow at the very least to file a report as we just don’t have the time.”
“What’s going on, Deputy?”
“Whelan is dead!”
“Oh my Lord!”
“Yeah, it’s pretty bad. The sheriff and Jeb found him this morning. Seems like the hobo has struck again. Which reminds me that you need to come to a meeting tonight.”
“What type of meeting? About the vagrant?”
“Yes Mam. The sheriff is about to explode with all this killing going on. He is getting pressured by some to call in the Feds.”
“The Feds?”
“Federal agents. They are experienced in all these things and so they may be able to catch this guy. But the sheriff rightly wants to know the view of the town’s folk. So please can you attend? And we will look into the stolen shotgun at a later date. This really does take precedence.”
