Chapter 45

As a journalist, I had seen a few dead people in my life. At first, it bothered me. Actually, it still bothers me. It’s bad enough when a person dies of natural causes, but when you see a person with a gunshot wound to their head, it’s not a pretty sight.

It didn’t seem to bother Squiggy or Mule that much, which wasn’t surprising. If it was something normal, it might bother them. Things like this just seemed par for the course.

The sheriff looked around one more time before pulling the sheet back. The woman’s death was not peaceful. She had a look of horror on her face and somebody needed to close her eyes. Her skin was still pale but was starting to darken.

Mule and Squiggy moved closer and examined the body.

“I’ll be darned,” Squiggy said. “Tee hee, ain’t this that chick you picked up last week at the bar?”

“You don’t gotta say it that loud!” Mule protested. “I was drunk!”

That was their universal excuse for anything they did that was wrong.

“She’s bigger than Big Uns. What was it you called her?”

Mule giggled. I thought there was something inappropriate going on here, but let it pass.

“Beef Critter!” Mule managed to say. He thought this was bang your knee funny. So did Squiggy and the sheriff.

“Why’d you call her that?” I asked. They all looked at me like I was stupid.

“Ya know, looked like a cow?” Squiggy said. “You ain’t never watched no Gary Cooper movies.”

“Man, you guys kill me!” the sheriff said, then realized what he had just said and laughed harder.

“Just cause she’s fat don’t make her bad,” Mule argued.

“Sometimes, I like em big,” Squiggy commented.

Mule leaned down so he was almost lying on the ground.

“Dang, you can almost see straight through her head!”

“Really?” Squiggy asked. “Lemme see! I watch all dem CSI shows.”

“I watched one the other night.”

“Which one?”

“Cain’t member, I was too drunk.”

I would hate to be their liver.

Squiggy got up on his knees and crawled around to the other side. He looked into the exit hole while Mule was looking into the entry hole.

“Can you see me?” Squiggy asked.

“Naw, there’s too much stuff in de way.”

“This is kinda strange, if you ast me.”

Nobody asked him, but I didn’t think that was going to keep him from commenting.

“This is a strange angle for de bullet to take, if’n a person was gonna shoot demself.”

“What do you mean?” the sheriff asked.

“The bullet is angled back toward the front of her gourd. I’d say if a person was gonna put a bullet in der own head, it’d go back de udder way.”

Good point, Squiggy. All those hours of watching CSI were really paying off.

“I think she got shot by a .22,” added Mule. “Hole ain’t big enuff for nothin else.”

I could tell that Squiggy agreed, but he wouldn’t admit it since Mule said it first.

Nobody heard the footsteps from behind us.

“What is going on here?” a man asked.

We turned around to see a couple of suits. Actually, angry people wearing suits, to be truthful.

“We’s lookin at her head,” Mule answered.

“What’s it to you, ya weenie?” added Squiggy, without bothering to look up.

These were not the types of people who took kindly to being called weenies. They were too serious and I figured the “big boys” the sheriff had described earlier had arrived. There were two of them, both a little younger than me. Their hair was combed perfectly and they were dressed like big-city bankers.

“You boys need to get outta the way,” the sheriff warned.

“We’ll be through here inna minute,” Squiggy said. “Mule, git a stick and try and put it through the hole.”

Mule got up and started looking around for a stick.

“Don’t even think about it!” one of the suits said. Mule looked a little disappointed. Squiggy was just hacked.

“Who died and put your scrawny butt in charge?”

“Squiggy, they’re from the OSBI,” the sheriff said.

“I don’t care if they’re Andy and Barney. What’s the OSBI?”

“That’s kind of like a state FBI.”

“Oh,” Squiggy said. “Y’all don’t want us to poke a stick through the hole?”

“Not in this lifetime,” the other agent said. “Sheriff, you and your boys here need to get out of here. In fact, take these idiots out of the park.”

“Ain’t no reason to git all huffy,” Squiggy said. “We was just tryin to help.”

“Yeah!” Mule fired back.

The sheriff escorted us out of the area.

“Sorry, boys,” he said.

I got the sheriff’s phone number and permission to call later to find out what was going on. I had taken some pictures when we first arrived of the body covered in the sheet with some people standing around. I thought that would look really good, blown up on the front page of this week’s edition.

We drove away from the lake on those windy roads. Mule was a little disappointed that the Cedar Lake Store was shut down as he was out of beer.

“We’ll git ya some at Hodgen,” Squiggy promised.

“Yeah, but I could drink three of em between here and there!”

Man, what a shame. Mule was missing out on beer time. As we got out on Holsun Valley Road, a short stretch of road that is seldom traveled, my phone rang. It was my mother. I was surprised there was cell service this far in the sticks.

“Where are you?” she asked. I told her about the dead woman and that we were heading back to town.

Squiggy and Mule were singing along with some sappy country song. Neither of them were a threat to the next American Idol contestants, or William Hung for that matter. Mule started singing with his eyes closed. I elbowed him and told him to quit.

“Can you get my medicine?” she asked.

“Sure, Mom, where is it?” I asked.

“At Wal-Mart!”

That would waste a good hour of time, but I couldn’t turn the mother figure down.

“Yeah, I’ll get it,” I said, then bid my farewell. “Drop me off at the paper. I have to go to the Wal-Mart in Poteau.”

“We can take you,” Squiggy offered.

“I like Wal-Mart!” Mule said. I wasn’t surprised. Wal-Mart for a country boy was like taking a kid to a candy store.

We had to make two stops before we got to the store. The first one was at a convenience store in Hodgen to get beer. They were both out of money and since the store wouldn’t take an IOU, Squiggy borrowed some money from an old guy hanging out at the table for coffee drinkers.

Mule made it all the way to the Monroe cutoff before he asked Squiggy to pull over.

“Ya gonna yack?” Squiggy asked.

“Naw, I gotta pee.”

This was not good.

“Why didn’t you stop at the store to do this?” I asked.

“It’s funner to go outside,” he said, which did not surprise me. Mule stepped outside the truck and pointed away from traffic.

“Lookee there!” Squiggy said, giggling and elbowed me.

I looked outside to see Mule trying to see how high he could go. I saw this giant arc or urine streaming through the air, even above his head. He was going back and forth, almost making it look like one of those revolving sprinklers.

Two people driving by honked. Mule just waved and continued on with his business.

Eventually, he got back in the truck and we headed off on our journey. I hoped nobody saw me.

Eventually, we made it to Wal-Mart. Squiggy tried to find a handicapped spot, but they were all taken.

“Dang,” he said. “I bet deys not all crippled!”

He finally found a spot and parked. Squiggy and Mule also climbed out of the truck and headed toward the store, each of them carrying a beer.

“Uh, where are you going?” I asked.

“To the Wal-Mart!” Squiggy said, then shook his head. What a stupid question!

I had a bad feeling about this. All I wanted to do was run in and get my mother’s medicine. People like Squiggy and Mule should not be allowed in public places like this.

Squiggy stopped and pointed at the roof.

“Look, ain’t dat a camera?” he said.

“Cool!” Mule added. “Let’s moon it!”

I protested, of course, not that it did any good. They dropped their pants and turned around, showing their buttocks to the camera and everybody coming into and out of the store. There were shoppers coming and going, of course, not that it bothered them. One older woman walked by with her cart full.

“I wish I had a belt so I could spank you!” she said.

“Yeah, I wish you could, too!” Squiggy said.

I acted like they were complete strangers. During the mooning process, I had walked by and was refusing to acknowledge their presence. They caught up with me, just as we walked inside the first set of doors.

Squiggy grabbed Mule and pointed. I couldn’t see what it was that excited him, until it was too late. They practically sprinted over to the soda pop machines and each of them climbed in a motorized cart, the kind usually reserved for the old and feeble.

“We can race!” Squiggy said and took off. Mule was in reverse and almost backed over a little boy trying to get a Sam’s Choice out of the vending machine.

“Don’t do this!” I hollered, not that it mattered.

Mule had his machine going in the right direction. Squiggy was waiting for the mechanical door to open. Some old man made the mistake of walking in front of him.

“Get yer wrinkly rear outta the way!” Squiggy hollered. “We’s a racin!”

Mule banged into Squiggy from the rear, almost knocking him into the old man. Those little carts actually went fairly fast. Once we got inside the store, I quickly veered off to the left. There was a loud commotion behind me. I refused to look, but could hear several people hollering. As I continued down the line of cashiers, I met two men wearing ties and sporting Wal-Mart badges sprinting in the opposite direction, each of them talking into some walkie talkies.

I doubted they were going for a price check on aisle four.

I got my mother’s medicine and walked back toward the same entrance. There were about twenty people gathered together, including several police officers. Squiggy and Mule were in the center, enjoying all this attention.

“Those carts are reserved for the handicapped!” one of the officers said, a huge hulk of a man. “Not for racing!”

“I’m handicapped, sort of,” Mule offered.

“How’s that?”

“I gotta boil on my butt.”

I stood off to the side, wondering if my driver and his buddy were going to get busted. The phone rang again. I opened it and saw it was my mother calling.

“Hello, Mom, I’ll be home in a little bit,” I said.

“Michael, where are you?” she asked.

Uh oh, I’d been busted.

“At Wal-Mart.”

“You aren’t with those two idiots, are you?”

“Which two idiots?”

“That Squiggy and Mule!”

“Uh, yeah, I am.”

There was a silence for several seconds.

“I was afraid of that,” she said and hung up.

They had a big powwow for several minutes before deciding on the proper punishment.

“You are not allowed back in Wal-Mart,” they advised him.

“Ask me if I care?” Squiggy hollered.

“What about when I needs fishin lures?” Mule asked. He was hurt. They were taking away a vital part of his life.

“You can come then, just don’t come together.”

They accepted their punishment and met me outside.

“Man, that was cool!” Squiggy said.

“Yep, I hope dat old woman’s okay,” Mule added.

“What old woman?” I asked.

“De one Squiggy bumped into the bananas. She was a hollerin that Squiggy broke her good hip.”

“They’s a watchin us,” Squiggy mentioned. “You gotta drive.”

That sounded like a good idea to me. It was also probably a lot safer than with him at the wheel. We pulled out and were followed all the way out of town by two police cars. I kept expecting Squiggy to do something to get us arrested, but he had mellowed out a little bit. I guess going without beer for fifteen minutes can do that to a person.

“What day is this?” he asked.

“Heck if I know,” Mule said. They both looked to me.

“Tuesday.”

“Crappola!” Squiggy shouted. “We’s havin a surprise birthday party for my mom! What time is it?”

Apparently he had lost the ability to look at the watch on his arm.

“Ten after five,” I finally said.

“Turn around, we’s gotta git to the Sizzlin!” he said, referring to the Western Sizzlin’.

“I have to get back to work,” I said.

We argued all the way back to Langford. Squiggy wanted me to drive him while I countered with needing to get to work.

When we pulled up in front of the Review’s office, he was still sulking and wouldn’t say anything.

“See you guys later,” I said. Squiggy ignored me. Mule waved and smiled. He had beer foam all around his mouth.

There were about twenty messages waiting for me on the desk. I was going through the list when I heard the front door ring. There’s a cattle bell attached to alert everybody when a customer entered.

I looked up and saw Mule walking in. He looked a little sad.

“Squiggy made me git out!” he said. “He told me I had to stay with the other jerk.”

Mule sat down at my desk. I continued to check my messages as Mule sat in the chair opposite of me, whistling away.

He stopped whistling and I looked up. Mule had a strange look on his face.

“What’s wrong?” I asked. “Do you need to use the bathroom?”

“Naw, I dids that out front,” he said. Great, I’m sure that was a great attraction. All businesses need some guy taking a leak out front. “I was just a wonderin.”

“What were you wondering?” I asked, while wishing he would go away. I thought about asking Nancy to take him home, but was afraid she would never be the same.

“I member de Beef Critter was at the bar last night,” he said. Mule had my attention. “She was a dirty dancing wif some fake cowboy.”

“Did you know him?”

“Naw, but he must’ve liked it cuz I saw dem leave. Ya reckon that guy that picked her up might’ve had anything to do wif her a gittin shot?”

Chapter 46