“Never you mind, Agent Butt Hole.”
Virgil smirked at Walt’s anger.
Lou chirped in, “I have a hunch as to the identity of at least one of Duane’s friends Walt is referring to … MB.” But by now it was obvious she was pissed off with the whole affair and her attention was fixed on Virgil.
Agent Merlot had been silent for some time. “Got something to say … so everyone please shut the bleep up,” she said in a raised voice.
They all looked curiously at the FBI agent, except for Duane. He grinned sensing what she was about to say.
“That’s better … now I’ve got all your attention, especially you, Agent Tuckerwood.” Merlot smiled at her partner.
“What is it,” Virgil asked warily.
Merlot grinned. “You’re not going to like it.”
“I’m not?”
“No,” Merlot said. “I’ve been given top secret orders from our Super prior to coming here.”
“What orders?” Virgil asked.
“You’re to take a couple of weeks off work due to stress and you have to stay here because Doctor Martinez said so. And I’ve been thinking I’d like to stay also. I so love this town.” Merlot smirked at Virgil.
Virgil’s expression darkened. “You’re yanking my chain.”
Merlot shook her head, no. “I suggest you contact our office and speak direct to the boss if you think I’m yanking your chain.”
Virgil growled under his breath. “Shit.”
Walt chuckled, “Did I hear you say the S word, Agent Fuckerwood?”
Virgil glanced nastily at Walt then looked at Lou. His expression softened. He smiled faintly at the sheriff.
Duane’s lights were full on Las Vegas. He noticed the lovey-dovey looks Virgil and Lou were giving each other. Virgil was warming to the idea of staying in Big Beaver. Like a thunderbolt the urge came over Duane to do something mischievous it was time for the Phantom Bigfoot Bather to strike again.
Chapter 30
Phantom Bigfoot Strikes Again
IT TOOK DUANE less than fifteen minutes to screech back home on the hog. With no time to waste, he dashed into his cabin and entered the large pantry. A box of cereal was moved and he pulled a hidden lever which opened a trap door in the ceiling. He used a shelf to step on and removed plastic bottles marked, skunk, grizzly pee, essence of Bigfoot and one marked X.
In his kitchen he scooped out several jars of peanut butter into a plastic bowl in the sink. He opened each plastic bottle, giving them a sniff while sniggering. He poured the required amount of each into the bowl and stirred the mixture to a sticky, gooey mess. With great difficulty, he poured the brown goo into several empty plastic water bottles, screwed them tight and washed the excess from them with the hand-pumped water faucet.
Duane slipped out of his clothes leaving on his underwear and stepped into his Bigfoot duds. From the trap door he removed a large plastic bag and from that took ample quantities of Bigfoot hair. He filled his old rucksack with the necessary goods for the prank and took off down the short cut back to town on his mountain bike.
One hour later he stopped out back of Miss Mamie Funderburk’s house. His super eyesight scanned his surroundings to make sure he had not been seen. He trudged with his Bigfoot feet all over her flower beds and entered the house with the rucksack.
Once the prank had been completed he snuck back into the edge of the forest. He sat against a Ponderosa pine, where he had a perfect view of the house and waited for the fun to start. It didn’t take long before he picked up on Lou’s approach.
Sheriff Lou drove her patrol car slowly down Big Beaver Avenue displaying an array of detached houses with their white shingled walls and well-maintained gardens, rimmed by white wooden fences and small Ponderosa pine trees. She was in a right shitty mood. Her teeth were clenched and her knuckles were white. Duane — if you’re behind this prank, you’re ass is mine, she thought. She’d hoped to have a quiet talk with Virgil, but no, the Phantom Bigfoot Bather struck just when she wanted to tell him how she felt.
She looked in the rear-view mirror to see Virgil and Merlot close behind in their car. They’d insisted on visiting the crime scene. More fool them. Can’t say she hadn’t warned them what to expect.
Lou wondered what people were saying behind her back. She imagined taunting eyes peeking behind chintz curtains from every house she passed. Houses she had grown to love. They were of a wide variety of designs and sizes, having been built over a period of a hundred or so years. There were no cookie-cutters in Big Beaver. But there were plenty of class “A” freakazoids. Damn you Duane Dexter!
She watched happy Beaverites walking their dogs and going about their day-to-day lives unaware that yet another heinous crime had now been committed in their neighborhood. Several waved to her and she waved back half-heartedly. That’ll give them something to talk about. Go ahead say what a useless sheriff their town had. I freakin’ dare you.
As Lou drove around a curve in the road she and Deputy Dwight, seated next to her, could see another patrol car and the Medical Examiner’s car outside the Funderburk House.
The Funderburk House was the first to be built on the avenue and backed directly onto the verge of the forest. It had Ponderosa pine trees out front, blocking the house from nosy locals.
Lou parked her patrol car behind the other vehicles and switched the engine off. She and Dwight sat in the car for several moments with grim faces.
The sheriff blew out her cheeks and heaved a sigh. She was less than eager to enter the crime scene having seen it all before. A quick glance at Deputy Dwight confirmed his gut was churning just like hers.
It occurred to Lou that if this was the work of The Phantom Bigfoot Bather then it stood to reason her job would really be on the line. So far, the local radio had been told to play it down. The mayor wanted the entire affair kept as quiet as possible.
But it was still the summer season. Hordes of tourists were descending on their idyllic little town and so word had started to spread. Big Beaver would probably make national headlines and become the laughing stock of the state, if not the nation. Lou didn’t want that to happen. She loved her town more than anything — more than him? The jury was still out on that one.
“Come on, Dwight, move it,” Lou ordered, as she exited the patrol car. She took in a massive, deep breath of fresh, pine-scented air, as if it would be her last. With a shrug, she ignored Virgil and Merlot as they approached. Screw them both.
Dwight lingered for a moment inside the confines of the sheriff’s patrol car. The deputy took a deep breath of the scented magnolia stick that hung from the rear view mirror. He savored the pleasing fragrance for a moment then slowly got out.
“That won’t work, you know,” Lou said rolling her eyes.
“Better than nothing, I guess.” Dwight sounded resigned to his fate.
As they approached the house they saw the comfy outdoor floral-patterned chairs dotted about the porch. Hanging plants dangled from the veranda’s overhang. The bright yellow front door was wide open, beckoning them in to hell.
Lou and Dwight heard a dog barking and children playing in a neighbor’s garden. Sweet sounds that could not distract them from their sworn duty.
Lou reached the front porch first and muttered to herself, “No fainting, Lou. You’re the sheriff … got that?”
Just as she was about to place her foot onto the front porch, Deputy Dick burst forth from the open door.
“Outa my freakin’ way!” Dick shoved them aside. “It’s real bad, Sheriff … don’t go in there.” He convulsed as if to puke. After stumbling down the steps onto the front lawn, he doubled up as if to barf. He wretched and heaved, thankfully nothing was tossed.
Sheriff Lou and Deputy Dwight turned round to watch in horror as the deputy bent over again. Lou swallowed down the need to throw up herself, thinking Duane must have escalated.
Dwight patted his rounded stomach and muttered, “I’ve gotta real bad feeling about this one, Lou.”
/> “You think?” Lou agreed with a grimace. She saw the looks of disgust on both agents’ faces and smirked. Serves them right for tagging along.
“I mean it Sheriff … don’t go in there. It’s the worst one yet,” Deputy Dick groaned, gasping for fresh air.
Lou turned away from Dick, and entered the house with Deputy Dwight, Agent Tuckerwood and Agent Merlot.
Once in the hallway, Lou heard Deputy Rick and the ME’s muted voices coming from somewhere upstairs. Throughout the lower part of the house there was the sweet fragrance of Lily of the Valley air freshener mixed with that familiar pungent odor. Lou saw muddy Bigfoot prints making their way from the rear kitchen to the stairs. Same old, same old.
Merlot giggled, “This is all the way nuts.” She stepped back out into the front garden where she guffawed for all to hear.
Lou ignored Merlot’s laughter and glanced at Virgil’s face, detecting the faintest of smiles. She gave the neat hallway a cursory glance as she walked towards the stairs with Deputy Dwight and Agent Tuckerwood in tow. They paused outside the open living room door.
There, seated in a rocking chair, was Miss Mamie Funderburk, quietly watching TV with the sound muted. She was a petite, white-haired, eighty-five-year-old woman. She was hard of hearing and more than a little absent-minded.
Miss Mamie’s housekeeper had reported the crime. She had told Lou not to upset the old girl, as she was totally oblivious to anything untoward going on in her home. Apparently she slept downstairs these days due to arthritis that prevented her from climbing the stairs, and as such, had not witnessed the crime.
But Miss Mamie Funderburk turned and smiled at Lou. She slowly got up and used her walking stick to hobble up to her and explained how she liked Phantom Bigfoot and really didn’t want him caught.
Lou barely listened — she had heard this all before and surmised the poor old girl had really lost it. She went upstairs.
At the top of the stairs, Lou noticed the plethora of small gilt framed photographs of the bygone years of Miss Mamie and various family members and friends.
Virgil staggered to a halt and coughed. His eyes watered. “Holy shit … that does it! What a stink.” He rushed back down the stairs with a handkerchief to his mouth.
Lou peered over the banister and saw him leave the house. She grinned at his discomfort and thought — don’t have what it takes, do you Agent Fuckerwood?
She could still hear Deputy Rick and the ME talking. Sheriff Lou and Deputy Dwight exchanged anxious glances as they walked down the hallway towards the crime scene, following the muddy footprints.
Lou’s nostrils twitched. She could now smell the faint hint of bleach, and that all too, familiar pungent stench that would cling to her senses for days to come.
Lou took in deep breaths. Slowly, with stomach-churning dread, she tentatively walked down the hallway towards the bathroom. She turned to Dwight and indicated for him to get a move on.
She reached the open door to the crime scene and peered into the bathroom to see Deputy Rick photographing the ME, as he drew a plastic sheet across the floor to kneel on. Both had pegs on their noses.
Lou could clearly see muddy Bigfoot prints completely covering the linoleum floor. She correctly concluded that the perp had used the toilet as the seat was up. The air was now so overpowering she felt dizzy.
It was obvious Deputy Rick and the ME were too involved with the crime scene to notice that she and Dwight had entered the small bathroom and were standing quietly behind them.
“Hey Herb, does that look like human hair,” Rick asked.
The ME used tweezers to pluck said follicle from the side of the pan and closely scrutinized it.
“Damned if I know, Rick … but let’s bag it all the same.”
Lou coughed as the stink burrowed into her brain. “Smells about the same to me,” she declared, announcing her presence with a wrinkled nose.
Both Rick and the ME jumped almost out of their skins. Both whirled to look at the sheriff and Dwight looming over them.
Herb dropped the hair and tweezers down the pan. “Shit!” Herb stood up and stared down the toilet at a prize piece of evidence now gone.
From Deputy Rick’s puce-green pallor and the ME’s whiter than normal features, Lou didn’t need to know what she was about to see was going to make her feel pretty bad too.
She walked over to the toilet with leaden feet while Dwight stood fixed to the spot trying not to breathe in the disgusting stench that invaded his nostrils. Lou peered down to see two partially eaten chocolate éclairs floating in the pan.
It had to be Duane, she thought, and he had escalated to a different confection. Not that there weren’t other suspects in town, but Duane was number one. And Duane was smart, which meant the Phantom Bigfoot Bather was smart, for he knew to put plenty of bleach down the toilet bowl and in the bathing facilities.
Lou checked the bath and saw the drain clogged with matted fur, as yet unidentified, although close to being human hair, it was unanimously declared of animal origin as it was unknown — a Big X. So the hair could not be Duane’s.
“You just going to stand there like a lost turd, Dwight?” Herb remarked somewhat peevishly. “Do you think it’s the work of the Phantom Bigfoot Bather?” Herb asked Lou.
“Well yeah … duh!” Lou replied, who was now unable to tear her eyes away from the clumps of fur stuck to the sides of the bath and tiles. She leaned closer and dared to sniff the stuff. After a moment of coughing and heaving, she came to the conclusion the smell was very similar to Duane’s Bigfoot duds, only more potent.
“I’ve seen enough. Bag everything and do the extraction!” Lou pushed Dwight aside and breathed in fresh air at the open window.
Dwight slipped on the wet floor and fell backwards into the bath, floundering like a beached whale.
From her vantage point, Lou had a clear view of the garden below and of the small group of eager locals now gathered on the lawn, standing amongst them were Agents Tuckerwood and Merlot. Lou noted Merlot was still giggling and Virgil had a none-too pleased look on his face.
Deputy Dick was there, telling everyone, “The Phantom Bigfoot Bather has struck again.”
In response to the deputy’s declaration, everyone except Agent Tuckerwood cheered loud and clear for all to hear. “Hooray!”
Lou turned away from the window and said, “Hold on … no extraction till Bruger gets here.” She heard familiar sirens in the distance.
Five minutes later Lou heard a creaking floorboard indicating the arrival of Walt Bruger, slightly out of breath.
Having received an urgent call from Noreen, Walt had wasted no time, and with sirens blazing on his “Dumpster Mobile”, as he affectionately called it, arrived ASAP at the crime scene.
“Walt Bruger has entered the building!” Walt announced himself. “Hey guys, did you know our great nation is water rationed during the Super Bowl to allow for all the flushing.”
No one laughed. Walt looked most disappointed. He stepped up to the pan and looked down into the gaping maw.
The sheriff scrutinized Walt standing over the toilet bowl staring at the chocolate floaters. He was dressed in his professional-looking, dark brown jumpsuit with “No dump is too big for a Bruger” emblazoned on his back in luminous lime green.
It occurred to Lou that Walt might very well be the perp. It wouldn’t surprise her if he was, but her number one choice was still Duane.
Walt’s face remained its usual ruddiness. And strangely enough he didn’t hold a hand over his mouth to cover up the foul stench. He exuded pride for he was a professional sewage extraction expert, a job not to be taken lightly.
Walt took in a big breath. “Ah, ambrosia to my nostrils.” He started to giggle. “Damn … that éclair looks real tasty.”
Lou looked with revulsion at Walt.
“Which one?” Deputy Dwight asked.
Walt used his cell phone to take a snapshot of the offending items. “That one’s mine!” He reached
for one éclair.
Lou quickly whacked Walt’s hand away from going into the toilet. She looked disapprovingly at him. “This isn’t a laughing matter … just get on with the extraction.” She turned to Herb, “Bag all the hair in the bath and make castings of the prints in the back garden.” She raised her eyebrows. “I presume there are footprints in the garden?”
Herb nodded yes.
Lou gave Dwight an urgent look for him to do something, indicating Walt’s cell phone.
Dwight was wiping Bigfoot hair from his uniform and took his cue. He made a dash towards Walt in an attempt to grab hold of the cell phone before Walt got a chance to mail it off.
Walt quickly raised his cell phone up high out of Dwight’s reach.
Deputy Rick and Herb started to snigger.
“You can’t take photos of a crime scene,” Dwight spluttered excitedly as he tried, with arms raised, to grab hold of the cell phone.
Walt grinned at Dwight then at Lou. “Come on, Lou, what’s the harm?”
“Uh-uh,” was Lou’s reply. “Hand it over, Walt.”
“Shit,” Walt mumbled under his breath. He heaved a sigh and handed the cell phone to the deputy, but dropped it into the toilet.
“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” Dwight demanded, with as much authority as he could muster.
“Go fetch it if you want it that bad,” Walt teased.
Dwight gave Walt a nasty look then gazed down the toilet. He wrinkled his nose in disgust and shook his head, no.
Walt chuckled at Dwight’s discomfort. With a manly swagger he turned his attention back to the toilet bowl. He unzipped a chest pocket and removed a pair of heavy duty latex gloves, extra long, which he slowly slipped over his hands with a resounding snap. “Come to Papa.”
Lou heaved a woeful sigh. “Hold it Walt! This time we should keep the crime scene intact. I want you to disconnect the water from the toilet and unscrew the fixings and bring the thing intact to the Medical Examiner’s lab.” She glanced over at the ME who nodded his head in agreement. Then she left for a much-needed shower.
Claws of Doom Page 53