I left Slatterson’s office and made my way back to Charlotte. I told Ernie of the arrangement, and he told me what I already knew—I should have asked for more money. Ernie said that he could cover for me while I did the Slatterson job, and he would arrange for the appropriate paperwork in order to pad our expense account. A couple of days later, we got the information that I’d asked from Slatterson on his son. I sat down and reviewed it. It wasn’t much. Truth be told, most rich young kids fresh out of college don’t have much of a life story.
Name: Edmond “Sonny” Richard Slatterson, age twenty-three. He graduated from Warhill High School in 1972 and from Davidson College in 1976, where he majored in economics. He didn’t join a fraternity while there. He played the occasional game of tennis and used to be a fairly regular golfer, but has been less inclined towards any athletics since graduating college. He was raised a Southern Baptist, but attended church sporadically, if at all. He drove a black 1976 T-top Trans-Am (License number WJY 197) and lived at #19 Clancy Lane, Pinetop Apartments, located on the outskirts of Warhill. Currently employed as a general repairman at his Dad’s main textile plant. He worked the first shift, 7 A.M. to 3:00 P.M.
Attached to the brief bio was a list of some of his known friends in the area, all from his high school days in Warhill. It appeared that he hadn’t stayed in touch with any college pals. I flipped through the rather sparse package that had been sent and finally came to the accompanying photographs.
I then got my first look at Sonny Slatterson.
I immediately spotted one of his problems from the photos. He was one of the ugliest young men I’d ever seen. He was built like his old man, but was a good deal thinner. His hair was carrot red, and he had a complexion to match it. At the time of this photo, he was still in the final throes of massive adolescent acne. His face was a literally a mass of pockmarks and scar tissue. His bulging, watery blue eyes were widely spaced, and it looked like the right one was slightly wall-eyed. He was smiling in one of the and while his teeth were straight, the overall appearance of them was marred by the apparent exaggerated size of the front two incisors. Rightly, or wrongly, it imprinted on him an aura of “goofiness." After I’d stopped laughing, I almost felt sorry for the poor, misshapen bastard.
There wasn’t much else to glean from the information the elder Slatterson had provided. I went ahead and packed up all the gear I thought I’d need and by Sunday evening I was making my way back to the Warhill area. I decided to check into a motel in nearby Loganton in order to keep any nosey folks in Warhill from asking about the new guy in town. The motel was clean and after a quick meal I turned in for the night.
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