Chapter 44

A body! Even better, a floater who the authorities are saying might have died from unnatural causes! This was great news! Not for the family of the dead person, of course, but nothing sold papers better than a mysterious dead body.

I was almost tingling.

“Mike, you need to calm down!” Nancy said, leaning close. “You’re smiling at your father’s funeral.”

“It’s okay,” I replied. “Dad doesn’t care.”

She nodded, accepting my reasoning which I found just the slight bit strange.

“I’ll take care of it,” I said. “Go back to the newspaper and sell a lot of ads.”

Nancy smiled at me. I noticed her hair, her pride and joy was really messed up. She would have to waste a whole can of hair spray to get her doo poofed back up.

“Okay!” she said, and took off at a quick pace back toward her car. I was looking around for my mother before realizing that I didn’t have a ride. The funeral home guys probably wouldn’t like me borrowing their car to get down to the newspaper.

Bummer, I couldn’t wait. Finally, a solution struck. It, or they, were hiding behind a tree passing a flask back and forth. I whistled and they came running, just like a good pair of bird dogs.

Squiggy actually looked fairly normal aside from the extremely greased hair. His shirt actually was clean, along with his pants. Mule was another story. I hadn’t noticed it at the church, but he was nattily attired in a matching set of camouflage shirt and pants, complete with a black clip-on tie.

Never know when a hunting opportunity might come about at a funeral, I guess. He did blend in fairly well behind the tree, except for the headstones, of course.

“You wore that to my father’s funeral?” I asked. Stupid question, I knew he wore that to the funeral. It was more of a statement of disbelief.

Mule looked down to help him remember what he was wearing.

“Yeah, what’s wrong wif dis?” he asked.

“You usually wear your best clothes to a funeral.”

“These are my bestest clothes.”

I nodded, realizing he was probably right. Plus he probably needed to break them in. Deer season was barely two months away, not that Mule would wait until then if he happened to be carrying a rifle and a deer crossed his path.

It pained me to say it.

“I need a favor from you?” I said.

They looked at each other, then back at me.

“Ya need us to git ya some beer fer the party at de church?” Squiggy asked.

“No, I need a ride.”

“Where to?” Mule asked. He must have an insect bite on his rear. Mule was scratching so hard he was standing up on his tiptoes and grunting. Several people couldn’t help but notice.

“You got a bite, Mule?” I asked.

“Naw, there’s one of dem boilers on my butt and I’s tryin to drain it again.”

“Please stop,” Squiggy requested. I was about to compliment him on his good taste then saw him hit the flask.

“I just need a ride,” I said.

“Where ya goin?” Mule asked.

“It doesn’t matter where he’s a goin!” Squiggy fired back, loud enough that the people on the other side of the cemetery probably heard him. “He’s our friend! We don’t gotta know where he’s goin before deciding on whether we’ll take him. Dadgum, ya idiot! Sure, we’ll take ya!”

“Naw, I was just wonderin where we was a goin, Squiggy. I don’t figger there ain’t no reason fer you to be callin me names. Member what Momma told youse dis morning after she heard you call me a ‘dipstick’?”

“Oh yeah, sorry.”

In a strange way, I wanted to know what she said, but then again, decided it wasn’t that important.

“I need to get my truck,” I said.

“What’s the dang rush?” Squiggy said. “They ain’t gonna start eatin till yo mom gits there.”

“No, I’m not going back to the church for the meal.”

“Well, that’s about stupid,” he added. “Man, there’s a gonna be all kinds of food and maybe even some chicks!”

“You guys can go,” I said, then regretted that. “I have to go out to the lake.”

“Fer a kegger?” Mule asked.

“No, they found a floater out there.”

“What’s the big deal bout that?” Squiggy asked. “I saw a floater last time we was at the Poteau pool. Looked like one of dem kingsized Babe Ruth candy bar.”

“I didn’t do it,” Mule said.

“You lie, boy! Nobody else at that pool could launch a log dat big!”

Squiggy scooted close to me.

“We was the only adults there,” he added.

“Naw, I meant they found a dead body.”

“Really? Man, that’s too cool!”

“Yep.”

“I don’t think youse guys should be so excited bout a croaker,” Mule admonished us.

“Shut up, Mule,” Squiggy said. “If wes wants yer opinion, we’ll ast.”

“Okay,” Mule agreed. I expected him to thunk Squiggy for a while.

“I’ll meet you at your truck,” I said, not believing those words actually came out of my mouth. They nodded and took off sprinting toward the truck. Mule had a slight lead until Squiggy threw on the brakes to talk with a large lady standing under the tree. He offered her the flask, she turned it down and he moved on.

I found my mother and whispered to her that I had to go. She wasn’t all that thrilled with it, but could only nod. I was sure my cell phone would be ringing as soon as she could sneak off into the bathroom after getting to the church.

Squiggy was revving his monster truck, loud enough that it was chasing off all the birds. I walked over to the truck and opened the door.

“Scoot over,” I said to Mule. He shook his head.

“I’s got shotgun.”

“We’re just going downtown.”

“Don’t matter, Mule don’t sit in de middle. People’d think I was queer.”

We sure couldn’t allow that to happen. He climbed out and I got in the middle. Mule looked at me and smiled as Squiggy took off, way too fast.

“Now they’ll think yer a homo!”

I put my hand on his leg and started rubbing.

“I am gay!”

Mule practically climbed out the window, only his lower torso was still inside. Squiggy didn’t bother to stop. Actually, I think he was looking for bumps to make Mule bounce.

“He’s kiddin, ya idiot!” Squiggy hollered over the music. Mule slowly climbed back in.

“Ya ain’t gay?” he asked.

“No, Mule, I’m not.”

“Good, I was afraid I might catch it.”

Squiggy had to take a shortcut across part of the grass to get around all the cars. His tires spun on one patch of grass and he peeled out. I looked back and realized somebody’s grave now had tire tracks on it.

“Drop me off at the paper,” I requested.

“How come?” Squiggy asked, frowning.

“I need to get my truck and camera.”

“Bullcrud! Youse goin wif us!”

“No, I need to go by and get my truck. I can drive.”

“Youse can git yer camera, but yer ridin wif us.”

“Why?”

“We wanna see the body!” Squiggy said and looked at Mule, who didn’t seem that excited.

“Croakers gives me the creeps,” Mule said.

“Then you can sit in the truck and drink beer!”

“I figure there’s gonna be cops all over,” I warned them.

“Don’t matter, I’ll just use one of dem koozies.” Mule then proceeded to reach under the seat and pull out a koozie that wrapped around a can of beer and made it look just like a Pepsi. I was, for once, impressed with Mule's ingenuity.

Squiggy ran the stoplight at the four-way and almost caused three wrecks. Some lady pushing a stroller, complete with baby, made the mistake of trying to cross the road. Squiggy missed her by an inch, almost causing the stroller to tip over. It was a hispanic woman. She hollered something at Squiggy that didn’t sound all that nice.

“Go back to Mexico!” he hollered, then laughed way too hard. Mule and I failed to see the humor.

Squiggy pulled in front of the Review office, parked the wrong way.

“Git yer stuff!” he said. “We’ll be a waitin!”

I ran through the office, grabbed my camera and notebook and headed straight through the office. My truck was parked out back. I was giving them the slip and was pleased with myself. I wondered how long they would stay out front, waiting on me, before finally giving up. I opened the back door and saw that stupid truck blocking mine. Squiggy and Mule were laughing and pointing at me.

Perhaps I wasn’t that clever.

“Don’t try to fool de Squigster!” Squiggy yelled.

“Yeah, he ain’t as dumb as he looks!” Mule added.

Squiggy stopped smiling and turned to Mule.

“Whadda ya mean by dat?” he asked.

Mule shrugged. I knew it was hopeless so I got back in the truck.

“Ya sure ya ain’t homo?” Mule asked.

“Positive,” I said.

Squiggy put on his hazard blinkers and threw gravel all over downtown as he left the parking lot. The goth girl from Flora’s Flowers was out back, smoking something. She hooked us the bird. Squiggy didn’t notice, which I was glad to see.

We got out on the highway and started heading south.

“Okay, now where’s we goin?” he asked.

“To the lake!” I said.

“Which one?”

Oops, I forgot to find out. I called Nancy and she solved the problem. It was Cedar Lake, about twelve miles south of Langford. The ride was rather bumpy, even more so than it should be. I figured out why when I looked at the dashboard. We were going 120 miles an hour!

Squiggy looked like a crazed person. His eyes were all bugged out, sweat beads were forming under his eyes and he was smiling like somebody just gave him free beer.

I had never before got out to the lake so quick. Cedar Lake has two sides for camping and swimming. The west side is called the sandy side, because there is a sandy beach there. The other side is called the dock side, because, there’s a dock for people to dive off of. It is one of the prettiest places I have ever seen. We used to come to the lake to swim and fish when I was younger.

Squiggy drove over to the beach side first, but didn’t see anything exciting other than this guy riding a horse.

“I wonder if dat thing ever drags the ground?” Mule asked.

Squiggy opened his mouth several times to say something, but let the opportunity pass.

I couldn't, sadly enough.

"What about your's?" I asked.

"Only when I sit nekkid on a milk crate," he answered, then saw the disbelief on my face. "It was kind of a bet."

We let that go and got back on the main road and turned back to the north. We saw our first cop at the pay station. It was a county sheriff’s deputy named Jack. His white car had the road blocked.

The deputy came strolling over, wearing sunglasses that were too big for his face. He had on some strange cowboy hat that made him look silly. He walked over to the truck and poked his head in.

“Where you boys going?” he asked. I looked over and saw Mule had a beer can between his legs.
“To the lake,” Squiggy said. “We’s goin fishin!”

The deputy raised his sunglasses to look between Mule’s legs.

“Lake’s closed, boys. Say, you ain’t been drinking, have you?”

“Yeah, want one?”

The deputy stepped back and looked undecided. He looked around and moved closer.

“Yeah, if you don’t mind!”

Squiggy pulled a couple of beers out from behind the seat and handed them over.

“They’re hot?” the deputy protested.

“Yeah, but they’re free. Move yer car, we gotta git in!”

“Can’t do it. The Sheriff would eat me alive!”

“Aw, he ain’t nothing. We gotta git in. This here’s a r'porter!”

“I’m with the Langford Review,” I said.

The deputy looked at me and between my legs, to make sure I wasn’t packing a beer. I held up my camera bag and press pass. That seemed to satisfy him.

“Y’all go on it!”

We waited for the deputy to move his car then drove down to the lake. All the cop cars were parked down by the boat ramp. I counted at least eight cruisers along with the forest service vehicles and an ambulance. Squiggy stopped back a ways and we took off toward the lake.

“I lost my dadgum virginality right der,” Mule said. He was pointing at a camping table. Somehow, that wasn’t surprising.

“Wif yer sister?” Squiggy asked, then snorted like a pig.

“She was my stepsister!”

I veered away from them. Mule looked like he wanted to punch Squiggy.

“Der’s the cop that arrested me last night,” he said instead.

“Dat one over der busted me last month,” Squiggy added.

“Ain’t dat de one who got you fer that DUI on Christmas?”

“Yeah, but I got off!”

I found another deputy and asked him where the sheriff was. He pointed to an older man standing near the lake. The guy was tall and way too skinny. He must be at least six-foot-eight and probably weighed less than I do.

The sheriff was looking around for something as I approached.

“Sheriff?” I said, approaching him with my hand out. He sneered at my hand and me. The sheriff had on thick glasses. His nose was twisted to the side like it had been broken at one time and never fixed. His face bore the scars of a serious acne problem when he was younger.

I noticed his lower lip twitched constantly.

“Who are you and what do you want?” he asked, still twitching. I tried not to stare at his lip but found it difficult.

“My name’s Michael Hunt,” I said. “I’m with the Langford Review.”

He sneered. The right side of his mouth actually turned up. But his lip never quit twitching.

“You ain’t supposed to be here. This is a crime scene.”

“I won’t disturb anything. What can you tell me?”

“That it’s Tuesday afternoon and if you don’t get outta here, I’m gonna get some of my boys to haul you off.”

Hmm, a threat! I wasn’t all that worried.

“Whadda ya say, Shakey?” I heard the voice from behind me. Now, I knew we were in deep doodoo.

The sheriff looked over my shoulder. It was amazing to watch the lower lip jitter up and down.

“ Squig?” the sheriff asked.

“Shore nuff is!”

“I’ll be darned!” The sheriff actually smiled and walked over to greet Squiggy warmly. “How ya been?’

“Dern good. And you?”

“Great until this mess happened. Now I gotta deal with a dead person and some newspaper weenie.”

“Ya talkin bout him?” Squiggy asked, pointing at me. The sheriff nodded. “Naw, he’s cool. He’s wif me.”

“Oh, okay.”

I wondered what Squiggy had on the sheriff. Either that or they had just gotten to be good friends after all the times Squiggy had gotten busted.

They walked back over to where I was standing. This time, the sheriff held out his hand.

“I’m the sheriff,” he said, like I had not figured that out. I took his hand.

“What happened?” I asked. Now, he was professional and seemed to know what he was doing.

“We’re not sure yet. Somebody called it in two hours ago. They found a female's body floating near the other side of the lake.”

“Any idea who she is?”

“Not yet.”

“Did she drown?”

The sheriff took my arm and we started walking toward the body, covered by a sheet. It was underneath a large pine tree. Mule was standing nearby, talking to another officer.

We stopped and the sheriff looked around. He leaned down and pulled the sheet back.

“This is what got her,” he said. There was a small hole in her head, just above her ear. The other side of her head was missing a quarter-sized chunk of skull where the bullet exited. I attributed the lack of a lot of blood to floating in the water.

The woman appeared to be in her thirties. She was rather large with dark hair and blue eyes that were wide open. She had not been in the water long enough to mess up her skin. He grabbed the sheet and covered her up.

“Suicide?” I asked.

“Not sure,” he said. “We’ll let the big boys decide that.”

Mule walked closer to the body. He had a strange look on his face.

“Lemme see her again,” he requested.

“Dude, yer weird!” Squiggy said. Mule shook his head hard.

“Naw, I think I know her.”

Chapter 45