Murder in the Palouse

by Frank Spellman

  Anyway, at the present time standing behind his raised podium and looking over his litter of adoring kittens he began to speak.

  “Now my darling followers let me remind you of one of our personal heroes and his great deeds in ridding the corrupt society of several rotten coppers; that is, police officers, my kittens … and also I must point to the fact that he spent time here in the Palouse and Scablands region when he hid from the law enforcement assholes.”

  “Yada, Yada, Yada.”

  “Now you all know that Harry Tracy was a principal member of the Hole in the Wall Gang and all the good work they did to kill coppers, shitheads and nonbelievers.”

  “Yada, Yada, Yada.”

  “The point is he was the Robin Hood of the late 1890s and early 1900s.”

  “Yada, Yada, Yada.”

  “He is credited with wasting at least a dozen coppers or more … and that is a good thing, for sure.”

  “Yada, Yada, Yada.”

  “Now we all know that he had flee California to Oregon and Washington and eventually ended up in the Scablands and the Palouse after he wasted a couple of posse members. He hid out in basalt outcroppings in a small cave and was not found or ever discovered there … he was safe there as we are safe here but he made the mistake of going off to Creston, Washington where he was wounded and then he performed the honorable thing by killing himself so that the shitters could not take him alive.”

  “Yada, Yada, Yada.”

  “Tracy is our hero … we must emulate him, adore him, and follow his precepts … remember that that horrible rag the Seattle Daily Times report about Tracy on July 3, 1902 … let me quote it for you all …

  “In all the criminal lore of the country there is no record equal to

  that of Harry Tracy for cold-blooded nerve, desperation and thirst

  for crime. Jesse James, compared with Tracy, is a Sunday school teacher.”

  “This is probably the only true statement that rag ever made!”

  “Yada, Yada, Yada.”

  “Okay, my kittens … I have a plan for our next caper … and the thought of all that flowing blood from all them shitters just turns me on … don’t you agree?”

  “Yada, Yada, Yada.”

  CHAPTER 5

  ABANDONED FARMHOUSES

  Note: From Jake Your Narrator: The Curmudgeons had eaten lunch and had downed a few Salty Dogs each and were now in the motel conference room ready for the rest of Sue’s presentation. Patch was in his glory being proud of his daughter and he always said that he gained more knowledge about everything, especially about Nature than he ever learned in school or anywhere else. One thing that helped Sue with her delivery of information was her Irish heritage where she not only had the ‘gift’ but also automatically used her hands when speaking, looked each attendant in the eye, varied the tone of her voice, varied her cadence, emphasized when needed, spoke softly when needed, she moved around constantly, she never stuttered because she knew the information—the subject matter—and she never rushed her presentation. It also helped that she was a striking beauty with a perfect body and at 5 foot 9 inches in height the perfect height—simply whether the audience is made up of male or female he or she feels at ease with Susan B. Anthony Patch.

  Shit, wouldn’t you?

  Absolutely, Jose, Paco, and Maria.

  Well, after all were seated and looking at her, Sue continued with her discussion. “I spent two summers canoeing the Palouse River to Palouse Falls—I enjoyed every minute of my adventure … every minute. During my second visit to the Falls I paddled a canoe 6.5 miles up the Palouse River from the Junction of the Snake River—a three-hour paddle (one -way) … and in a few places where it was really shallow I had to portage—now I have to freely admit that the dramatic sight of the Falls from its base was and is priceless … you just don’t get that view from the State Park areas up on top. Of course, then I was not worried about a band of serial killers … and it must be a band because they have to post some kind of lookouts to box in their victims without interference … and one thing is certain; they could not and probably will not kill in the area around or near the base of the Falls.”

  Sue paused to take in the others reaction. They all nodded their heads in agreement with her statement that there must have been a ‘band’ of serial killers.

  “I am sure that you noticed in the FBI files I gave you that there have been at least 10 incidents of serial killing incidents near the Falls but also in areas north of the falls in the heavy wheat covered rolling hills area. By my count of what we know, there have been two mass killings near the Falls and the others occurred north of the Falls. Again, these are the incidents that we know about and in this remote region there could be individual cases of murder that we are not aware of as of yet.”

  “Well from the incidents I am looking at in this file,” Nelly said taking advantage of Sue’s pause, “this whole area of the Palouse, on its fringes mostly, the remote fringes, have been sites of mass murders or other killings where a hiker here and there has been attacked and brutally killed.”

  “That is correct,” Sue answered. “We have a daunting task before us … I will move over to the map and point to those areas of mass killings that we know about today.”

  While Sue picked up her pointer, Bessie Mae and Crockett placed bowls of fresh cookies on the table, gave Patch a cucumber and refilled all the Salty Dogs.

  “Okay, we know about the two mass killings on the Palouse Falls trail,” Sue said pointing to the Falls on the Palouse and Scablands map. “Now, what I am pointing to here is the Staircase Rapids area which has a short trail of about 0.5 mile to the top of the rapids … in the files you probably noticed that there has been 3 incidents of murders on the trail or close to it … and a couple were lone hikers who were shot and then hacked to death and left for the critters. However, one of the incidents was another mass killing of 5 family members including 3 teenaged children … again, these victims were shot and hacked to death.”

  Sue shifted her pointer to the Washtucna Coulee and the 30-mile roadway through the bottom of the Coulee. “This area here is very interesting … I drove through it a few years ago … if you like geology and the history of the Great Missoula Flood this is one area that has to be explored. Anyway, at least 6 incidents of murder, 4 single murders, 1 female couple, and a group of 8 hikers were all shot and hacked to death at various locations along the 30-mile road.”

  Sue looked down at her FBI file and used her hand to stroke and push out of the way long strands of brilliant red hair and said, “This is a massive mission for us … I know we have always been successful in finding the perps and taking care of business, so to speak … but again this is a daunting undertaking for certain … this is a witches brew with a potent, brutal and fearsome mixture of murder and maiming … I don’t think anyone can deny that.”

  There was a moment of silence while Bessie Mae and Nelly mixed drinks and passed them out and Patch munched away on his cucumber.

  “This is a big one for sure,” Hell said. “I do not know this area but from the map and from what you have told us and from what the FBI files state I think this area is so wide and diverse, rugged and with so many places to hide … at least short term, anyway, that it is going to take a lot of ground work for us to figure this mess out.”

  All at the table nodded in agreement.

  “Do you think it is one of the western militia groups gone rogue, so to speak that is causing this murder spree?” Mustang Sally asked.

  “Yah, isn’t that possible,” Brown Eyes chimed in.

  “What do you think, Sue,” Patch asked and then said, “Just east of here there are active militias.”

  Sue sat down in her chair and pushed her stack of files away to her left side and answered, “It is true and well known that nearby here in Idaho and Montana in particular that there are groups, usually consisting of less than 100 each, of far right wingers who oppose any kind of governmental interference or law enforcin
g, etc., etc., etc., … however, the militias hate the government, not the people … they are not known for killing innocent people … the real bad eggs in the past have robbed banks and committed minor vandalism here and there … but it is not people they have a grudge against it is the politicians (left wingers, mostly) and government officials like forest and park rangers who they feel are preventing them from roaming where the buffalo used to roam … so to speak.”

  That comment brought a universal smile from the group but then the mood shifted to the serious vain again.

  “Well, sounds to me that we are simply dealing with a group of non-militia crazies, the murdering types,” K. Lovey said.

  “Yup,” Sue said, and the group got up, stretched and took a break.

  ********

  “This is going to be a rough assignment,” Two Green Eyes said to Hell. They were standing out of the sun under an awning in front of the Conference outdoor entrance. Hell, had an arm around her lover, Two Green Eyes and gave her a tongue-probing kiss and then said, “I think you are correct about that.”

  L. Lovey walked up to them and said, “You two taking a smoke break out here.”

  Two Green Eyes replied, “I would rather take a bullet than to put any of that terrible shit in my lungs … tobacco or that other crap assholes smoke.”

  L. Lovey smiled and opened the door for them and as they entered the conference room she said, smiling, “We agree on that 100 percent, for sure.”

  ********

  Sue stood at the end of the table again and waited until all were seated and then said, “Well, we have our hands full with this caper, for sure.”

  Bessie Mae said, “The question is … where the hell do we begin or start?”

  All those seated agreed with this statement and chimed in agreement with this statement and Sue said, “Very good question. I think you should know that with the exception of several abandoned farmhouses in the Palouse and Scablands there are not that many places to hole up, so to speak. Now, there are plenty of places to hide, short term but not to hole up for any length of time.”

  “So you do not think the killers are using the abandoned farmhouses or any farmhouse to hole up in, so to speak,” Crockett asked.

  “Nope … they probably use them for temporary shelters or hiding places to spring upon the unexpected but those houses are owned by the property owners but have been abandoned for more modern accommodations. It is the weather around here that maintains them in standing order; they undergo very slow decay and collapse … some are 100 years old.”

  “Well, if the perps are not using the abandoned houses and are not part of the militia … who the fuck are they?” Bessie Mae asked.

  “Good question,” Patch said.

  “Yah, for sure,” L. Lovey added.

  “I have no idea of who they are … but think Grand Canyon and what we found there,” Sue said.

  “You think they are cave dwellers, Sue?” Two Green Eyes asked.

  “Nope…there are caves around here, but they are two small … as far as I know. And it is interesting to note that the last old west bad man, Harry Tracy had a small cave in this area.”

  “I saw the movie … it made you feel sorry for a cold-blooded murderer,” Brown Eyes said.

  “Did you feel sorry for him,” Patch asked.

  “No fucking way … but it was an interesting tale,” Brown Eyes responded.

  “Well, good…let’s take a lunch break and then talk strategy,” Sue said.

  ********

  After they finished their catered lunch which included smoked salmon and Key Lime Pie for desert, they cleared the table and heads were turned toward Sue who was now standing.

  “This is a difficult case and unless we catch the perps red-handed or we have a witness it will be difficult to find and apprehend them … and the rest. So, I believe we need to split into 3 teams and visit locations where the mass murders occurred. I have three sites picked out.”

  “Sounds okay Sue but what will we be looking for?” asked Bessie Mae.

  “Anything and everything the others missed or overlooked … there has to be something that can help us.”

  “Sue is right … perps always leave something … usually inconspicuous items or trash that is of no importance to many … we will have to use our instincts and skills to vacuum the areas up, so to speak,” Patch said.

  All nodded agreement and Sue said, “I have three locations and three teams that I hope you will agree to … if not we can adjust, as necessary. I will write the team members on the white board on the wall and like I said, if you disagree let me know and we will see what we can change. Okay?”

  All nodded agreement and Sue stepped over to and in front of the dry erase wall mounted whiteboard and took her marker and made the following three lists:

  TEAM 1 Palouse Falls Trail

  Sue

  Bessie Mae

  Crockett

  TEAM 2 Staircase Rapids

  Patch

  Brown Eyes

  Mustang Sally

  JoAnn

  Team 3

  Hell

  Two Green Eyes

  L. Lovey

  K. Lovey

  Dr. Nelly—because Hell was wounded several times during our Grand Canyon case, Dr. Nelly should be in this group.

  Dr. Nelly spoke up … “I like your groupings but call me Nelly…the Dr. thing makes me think of Dr. Frankenstein … who I am quite envious of … really!”

  Everyone burst out laughing at Nelly’s comment.

  Sue asked, “Any problem with the three groupings or the assigned areas to search?

  Almost in unison the Curmudgeons all replied, “No F…ing problem.”

  CHAPTER 6

  KITTENS ON THE PROWL

  From the Creed of Liberty’s End: “War is war. The only good shitter is a dead shitter.”

  Note: Isn’t it amazing that the good and bad call the members of the other side ‘shitters’ … well, surprise, surprise, surprise.

  A rare event at the Liberty’s End compound: It was raining, no not cats and dogs nor kittens; instead, bucketful’s. The compound’s kittens were busy doing inside chores: hand-washing clothes, preparing meals, sweeping floors, dusting, ironing with stove heated irons, making beds (several of them) and servicing W.W. Williams. W.W. seems to be a reservoir of manly juices and it took a lot to drain him … might have been the drugs he used, or he just possessed an abnormal lust for kittens who would all eventually end up (both male and female) as fodder for the fishes in the pond. W.W. never worried about replacing his slave lovers. Actually, he found that he did not have room enough in the compound for all those who wanted to join. So in little less than two weeks he whittled down his litter to 21 out of 70 something…the ones whittled out actually ended up as food for the fishes.

  The question is how was W.W. Williams able to recruit his kittens without almost no recruiting on his own. After he gained allegiance from a few of his female and a couple of his need-to-be-totally-fucking-dominated male kittens they would soon pass the word to their friends and acquaintances to join up, sign up, give up all and join. So, whenever W.W. tired of one of his lovers he would just throw them to the fish, so to speak.

  When the rain stopped and the compound began to dry out, which in the climate there was quite fast. It also helped that water did not stand, it ran into the pound or into the ground or simply evaporated in the heat.

  W.W. called his kittens together in the assembly building.

  When all were present and standing almost at attention, W.W. took his position behind the podium. He smiled his bearded smile and welcomed them all to the meeting (it was not like they had a choice in the matter—they knew that the fishes are never full and constantly needy and hungry).

  “Well, my faithful kittens it is time to do in some more of them filthy fucking shitters out there.”

  “Yada, Yada, Yada.”

  “We need to sharpen our blades and load up the weapons and truck on o
ver to Devils Canyon.”

  “Yada, Yada, Yada.”

  Once outside the Yada, Yada, Yada was replaced by the spitting out a stream of warm chewing tobacco that they had been holding onto while their fearless leader spoke … even the fish like tobacco so it was not wise to even think about spitting while inside the assembly hall … a few of the girls even had to swallow some of the chew; nothing new with that operation.

  Note: Devils Canyon is another one of the topographical features created by the Great Lake Missoula Flood; it is near to and within some places that are part of the Columbia Plateau Trail State Park and encompasses more than 4,000 acres. This particular trail is over 100 miles in length and follows not only the path carved by the rushing waters when they topped barriers but is also along an abandoned old railroad right-of-way that is easy to follow. The main reason W.W. Williams chose Devils Canyon was because it is isolated with very few comfort amenities within easy reach, crossroads are rare and with few to no law authorities. Also, he knew that the previous attack sites at the different locations within the Palouse may be heavily patrolled by authorities on the lookout for them, the killers. Yes, W.W. understood that many crimes are repetitive at the same location, such as robbing the same bank or the same store multiple times but once or maybe twice committing mass murder on the various trails was the limit.

  After spitting out streams of tobacco juice and reloading their mouths with fresh chew the kittens prepared for their trip to Devils Canyon and their rendezvous with the asshole shitters they intended to waste. So they packed up their goods and killing apparatus while masses of clouds disappeared over the horizon and the high sky typical of Eastern Washington was cloudless in short order and the sun was warming the compound rapidly to the 100-degree F. level. After loading up 3 vans carrying 6 kittens each with W.W. in the lead, they were on their way to free their world of more shitters—and to W.W. and to the kittens it just doesn’t get any better than that.