Bullet Through Your Face (improved format) (19 page)

“Y
ou think she maybe run off?” the Chief ventured to his assistant
whiles he were parkin’ the town cruiser in front’a the Willis place.
“Shee-it, Chief, if she run off, why’s all the winders busted?”
A right fine point, the Chief supposed. They got out’n loped
up to the house, spyin’ the Doc’s fancy kraut Mercedes. Shiny red.
Looked brand new’n not a speck on it.
“Shee-it, Chief,” Hays admired. “Shore is purdy. Man, I could
bust me some poon in that there set’a wheels, ya thank?”
“Hays, from what I kin see, you don’t need no kraut Mercedes to
pick up tail. You could be drivin’ the town garbage truck’n ever gal
this side’a the county line’d be follerin’ ya down the street.”

“Yeah? But a sel
fish cockhound’s what I call ya. Now git’cher
mind off splittail. We got’s police work afoot.”
“Selfish? Me?” Hays seemed took aback. “Aw, Chief, you’re
settin’ me ta tears! I ain’t selfish! I’se kind, considerate, passionerate,
always concerned with the gal’s needs. They all tell me so, I swear. I
mean, just last night, I had me a date with Janey Jo McCrone, bought
her a Big Mac’n a shake at Mack-Donald’s, then we goes back ta her
place—”
“Hays! Can it,” Chief Kinion insisted. “I done tolt ya back at the
station—no more dirty stories.”
“Aw, Chief, it ain’t dirty, I’se just tryin’ relate somethin’ to ya
that’ll change yer opin-yer-un that I is selfish. Cain’t have my fine
boss thinkin’ somethin’ so neggertive, ya know.”
Kinion sputtered. “All right, Hays. Long as it ain’t dirty, go
ahead’n run yer yap.”
“So’s me’n Janey Jo—not ta be confused with Jinny Jo—we
git back ta her l’il crackerbox in Trailertown, Chief, and I hump the
dogshit outa her. Shee-it, I hump her so hard the bed broke all the
whiles as I’se humpin’ her she’s squealin’ ‘Oh, Micah Hays, I love
you!’ and ya know what I’se say back, Chief? I say, ‘Shee-it, Janey
Jo, I don’t love you but I shore’s hell love fuckin’ yer dirty cracker
hole,’ and I’se say shore’n I’se mean shore as a shiny new dime at
the bottom of a well! So’s then I pump a big ‘un in her, boss, like—
ooooo-eee!
—I socked me so much peckersnot up that snatch she
won’t have to git fucked again fer a year! So’s next I pull out, shake
the last’a my nut off in her face, wipe my dick off in her hair, then I
go pee in her toilet, don’t flush, leave the seat up, haul my duds back
on, wipe a booger off on the curtains, crack a fart, grab me a beer outa
her fridge, and leave without even sayin’ goodbye to the slut!”
Chief Kinion stared crosseyed at the young deputy. “Hays! I
thought you was tryin’ta convince me you ain’t a selfish cockhound!”

Hays cracked his hands together’n laughed a mite loud. “Aw,
shee-it, Chief! I were just pullin’ yer leg, havin’ one on ya! S’true,
I think the world’a women but only what’s ‘tween their gams.
They ain’t good fer nothin’ but ta drop a load in, and afters I drop
mine, boss, I is outa there! I ain’t got time to buy roses on fuckin’
Valurntine’s Day’n hold hands in the park! Fuck that shit, man!”

“Ya know somethin’, Hays?” the Chief grumbled. “You is one
shorefire fucked up young man.”
“Dang straight, Chief!” Hays guffawed. “And lovin’ever minute
of it!”
By now they’d made their way to Doc Willis’ front door, and
found it strange that Doc Willis hisself weren’t waitin’ for ‘em
considerin’ the urgency of his call. “Shee-it,” the Chief muttered
under his breath. “If I thought my wife had been kidnapped I’d
shore’s hail be waitin’ outside . . .”
“You gots that right, Chief.”
But when the Chief thought about his half-hearted statement fer
a speck, he realized it weren’t true at all.
Kee-rist, I
wish
someone’d
kidnap my wife ‘cos she ain’t nothin’ but a 260-pound Trailer Cow
who eats more than a road crew, snores louder than a fuckin’gorilla,
and ain’t let me fuck her in problee five years, not that I’d wanna fuck
her fat sloppy self. Shee-it, come ta thank of it . . . I thank I’d rather
fuck the gorilla . . .
But all stray ruminations aside—and certainly
none, of course, that he could relate to his deputy—the Chief raised
his big ol’ hand and rapped loud on the door but as he done so, the
door swung open, provin’ that it was ajar.
“Doc?” the Chief called out into the doorway. “Doc Willis? It’s
the poe-leece!”
But no reply were forthcoming.
“Guess we better go in, huh?” Hays speculated.
“Guess so.”
And that’s just what they did, all right, and the inside’a Doc Willis’ digs were right nice. All fancy carpet’n
fine wood panelin’,
not to mention a shitload of antique furniture which all looked mighty
pricey.

Big country kitchen too, all
fixed up with the most ‘spensive
appliances like a big six-burner range, four differnt sizes’a T-fal
skillets, a dishwarsher, a Cuisernart, one’a them fancy citified
‘frigerators with a ice-maker even. The Chief were fairly impressed,
he was, and thought that with a kitchen like this he could
fix
hisself
some viddles, yes sir.

Kinion moseyed on over and saw what Hays meant. “Why, if
that ain’t the weirdest thing . . .”
What Hays had noticed were a good half dozen 2-liter Coke
bottles upended in the big stainless-steel sink.
“Cain’t make jack crap outa that, boss,” the deputy postulated.
Six little white bottle caps sat in a line beside the sink rim. “Empty
Coke bottles, all turnt upside down. Looks ta me like someone
purposerly emptied ‘em.”
“Yeah, son, shore does but why in tarnations would someone do
that?”
“A cabaleristic purpose unbeknowst ta us, I’d say, Chief—”
Kinion stalled for a frown.
“—or I guess the guy either don’t like Coke or he needed the
bottles fer somethin’ else.” Seemed a damn shame ta waste all that
Coke just fer the bottles, but that weren’t exactly what was paramount
on the Chief’s mind just then. Findin’ Doc Willis was.
Cabalistic empty Coke bottles aside, they searched the rest of
the lower-level. Nice house, shore, but no Doc Willis nowhere at
all on the first floor. Every window downstairs, however, had been
shattered from the outside in, and this fact struck both the Chief and
Micah Hays as plenty strange.
“I kin see some fella bustin’ a winder ta git into the place,” the
Chief observed. “But—”

This was aggravatin’ and then some. “Doc Willis! Where the
hail are ya?” the Chief’s voice echoed up the fancy windin’staircase.
But again, no response.
“Come on, Hays, lets up’n check the rester the house.”
They tromped up in their shiny police boots, passin’ ‘spensive
lookin’ pitchers hangin’ along the way. Upstairs were dark’n quiet
jess like downstairs. Hays’n Kinion peeked in a coupla rooms but
still was not able to locate Doc Willis.
“Hey, Hays? You thankin’ what I’se thankin’?”
“What’s that, Chief?”
“That maybe the Doc’s wife weren’t the only one kidnapped?”
Micah Hays frowned. “Why’d anyone wanna kidnap Doc Willis?”
“Why’d anyone wanna kidnap his wife?” the Chief countered.
“Well, ‘cos, fer one, kidnappin’ is often a sexually motervated
crime, and the few times I seen Jeanne Willis I pulled wood so fast I
plumb near busted my pants.”
“Hays!” the Chief objected to his deputy’s unending insertion of
dirty references into everthang to come out his mouth. “Stick to the
point!”
“But that is my point, Chief. You asked why’d someone wanna
kidnap Jeanne Willis and that there is my answer. Some pree-vert
might’a snatched her fer, you know, hobknobbin’ of the sort without
consent. Where as it’s a tad unlikely that anyone would wanna kidnap
Doc Willis hisself because, well, most kidnappers problee wouldn’t
wanna fuck him, and secondly, the prosperect makes even less sense
since most kidnappings also involve ransom, and we all’s know the
Doc’s richer’n shit.”
“Well, yeah,” the Chief bumbled.
“And futhersmore, Chief, don’t you thank it’s really strange now,
about the winders? Ever last one of ‘em, broke from the inside out’n
not just the downstairs winders but the ones up here too? I guess you
hadn’t yet hadda chance to notice that, huh, Chief?”

What the . . .
No, the Chief hadn’t noticed, and Hays were right.
All these upstairs windows were shattered too, from the outside in,
bits of glass all over the floor. “Of course I noticed it, Hays. I didn’t
say nothin’ yet ‘cos I wanted to see if you did. Which brings me to
my next question. How in—”