Bullet Through Your Face (improved format) (22 page)

“Captain Majora,” the Chief couldn’t help but pipe up. “I gotta
admit, I’se at a loss ta foller anythang you’re sayin’.”
But Hays, once again, interrupted. “Look here, lady. We’se here
makin’ the proper investergation of the killin’ of Doc Willis and the
disappearance’a his wife, and I don’t see that that’s got anything to do
with this jive conspiracy yer spoutin’ about.”
“Hays, don’t be so rude ta the Captain!” Kinion loudly insisted.
But
Majora remained poker-faced. “I’m investigating the same
thing, PFC. What you need to understand is that just before he
retired, Willis was in the process of designing a new series of
hightechnology proximity fuses for the Army’s W-79 warheads. Recently
our D.I.A. intelligence surveys have been reporting the same fuse
mechanisms being discovered in the armories of such countries as
Iraq, North Korea, and Red China.”
Kinion’s big face remained in its state of perplexion, but Hays
seemed to get it: “So what’cher sayin’is that your bein’here is only a
coincerdence ta our bein’here. We’se investergatin’a missin’persons
whiles yer investergatin’ Willis as a suspect fer sellin’ military
technolergy ta the commies.”
Majora raised a stiff brow. “Well, I myself would phrase it a
bit differently but, yes, PFC, in essence you’re correct. We’ve been
maintaining surveillance on the Willis residence for quite some time.”
“Well,” the Chief posed finally seein’through the fog, “if you’ve
been maintainin’ surveillance on the property, did you happen to
see anything unusual within the last hour? ‘Cos ‘bout an hour ago’s
when Doc Willis called us.”
“No, Chief, I didn’t. No activity at all on the premise.”
They all set on that a spell, thinkin’ ‘bout it. Chief Kinion felt a
right amiss, he did. Proxerimity fuses? Sellin’ technolergy ta the
commies? Army surveillance on a house in the sticks?
It was like a story that didn’t make no sense!
Hays, as might be expected, were standin’ aside with his arms
crossed, but ever so often he’d sneak a glance at the Captain, eyeballin’
the impresserive femerine shape’a her and no doubt pitcherin’ in his
mind all the hobknobbin’ he’d like ta lay on her, and this, well, this
kinda caused a spark of displeasure in the Chief ‘cos he just knowed,
on account’a the way Majora’d look at him ever so often, that if she
hadda choice between either him’re Hays to take to bed—
It’d be me,
the Chief thought. “Hays!” he blurted. “What’choo
eyeballin’ boy?”
“Uh, nothin’, boss. I were just contemplatin’ the incongruenties
of the case.”
“Yeah, well why don’t you lead the way whiles we incongruenty
ourselfs back on downstairs and call the county rescue squad—”
“Good idea, Chief,” Hays remarked, “so’s we can git the Doc’s
body out here ‘fore it starts to stink worse than the fat pile at Burt’s
Meat Market.”
Kinion just shook his head as the three of ‘em filed out the room’n
headed back downstairs. But as they did so, this absolutely loverly
scent’a perfume floated offa Captain Majora and drifted right smackdab
inta the Chief’s face. He nearly swooned, he did, at that luxurious
scent, and, shee-it, he didn’t even know what swoon meant! And just
as he were startin’ to picture the good Captain in more provocative
apparel, rangin’ anywhere from tight purdy evenin’ dresses to her
birthday suit, Hays obnoxerous voice burst forth:
“So’s tell me this, Captain, what’cha make of all them empty
Coke bottles in the sink?”
The Captain’s pause seemed to float in the stairwell. “The . . .
what?”
“Shee-it,” Hays hacked. “Big fancy Army investergator and ya
didn’t even notice that?”

“And I suppose ya didn’t notice how alls the winders been
broken from the outside in, huh?”
“I did notice that, PFC. But I’m afraid I haven’t yet been able to
deduce a serviceable explanation.”
“Yeah, well I got somethin’ for ya to deduce, and—”
“Hays!” the Chief bellowed on the steps. “Put a lid on it!”
Back downstairs, Hays led the way to the kitchen, figurin’ that
would be the location of the nearest phone. He found it, all right, next
to the fridge, and it was one’a them fancified ‘lectric-type phones that
didn’t have no wire. Hays picked it with a gape, but before he could
even attempt to dial the county ambulance, Captain Majora said,
“PFC? Did you say something about empty Coke bottles in the sink?”
Both Kinion’n Hays turnt ‘round and saw the fine-lookin’
captain standing in front of the sink . . .
The empty sink.
“Why, ain’t that befuddlin’,” Hays remarked.
Chrast. Kinion saw fer hisself. The big fancy stainless-steel
kitchen sink had not a thing in it when just awhile ago he was fer
certain it had been filled with a bunch’a upended 2-liter Coke bottles.
Also missin’ were the six li’l white bottle caps that were previously
lined up along the rim’a the sink.
“Don’t that beat all,” the Chief muttered.
“Ain’t nothin’else it can mean, boss,” Hays offered. “We’se both
seed ‘em. And if they ain’t here now, that means someone must’ve
took ‘em outa here whiles we was all upstairs.”
Before any further speculation could be made, then, they all
three of ‘em jerked their gazes up at a sudden sound.
“Holy—” the Chief exclaimed.
“—shit!” Hays finished.
But Majora was already dashing out the side door, her pistol
drawn, because, see, the sound they alls heard was that of a car
startin’ and pullin’ off at a accelerated speed. At once the thought exploded in the Chief’s mind:
Somebody’s drivin’away in my patrol
car! If blammed Hays left the keys in it again, why I’ll’se have him
spendin’ the rest’a his career cleanin’ the public toilet at the town
square!
Hays dashed after Captain Majora, and the Chief, well, since
it was not possible for him to really
dash
anywhere, he hoofed it out
behind the others as fast as his 260 pounds could take him.

And once they’se was out front, Kinion saw that it was not the
Luntville police cruiser that had been made off with, it was Doc
Willis’shiny red Mercedes, whose dust they’d all been left to stand in.

Shouldn’t we chase ‘em?”
“There’d be little productive point in that, PFC,” Captain Majora
answered, reholstering her .45. “That was a Mercedes 560SL with a
5.6-liter overhead cam V-8. Our vehicles wouldn’t stand a chance of
catching him.”
“Shee-it,” the Chief said. “I wonder who took it.”
With a chuckle, Hays made his own venture. “Well, Chief, at least we
know who didn’t take it. Doc Willis, ‘n’less ‘acorse a dead man can
drive.”
“Hays, don’t run yer yap unless ya got somethin’ helpful to say,”
Kinion complained, and all this confusion’n stress’n activity suddenly
set his belly to burnin’ up fierce with gas. But it was quite queer
just then, because immediately after Hays had made the useless
comment that Captain Majora took a few slow steps backwards, and she was looking up at the house.
“What’cha ganderin’, Captain?” the Chief asked.
“Second floor, Chief,” she replied, shielding her eyes with her hand.
The sun blazed high, and as she continued lookin’ up with her arm
raised so to keep her hand over her brow, the Chief, fer only a second,
mind you, ‘cos he weren’t no pree-vert like Hays, the Chief
could see right down that gap below her short sleeve khaki Army shirt
and could see her soft, purdy, shaved underarm, and he had to admit it
was the finest armpit he’d ever imagined much less seed.
It were the armpit of an angel, yes sir! And just past it, he caught
a sideshot of the snow-white cup of her bra, and when he tried to
picture the tit that filled it . . .well, the Chief dang near had to
give
hisself a crotch rub.

“—that window right there,” she was continuin’ in that stern,
cool, businesslike voice’a hers, ‘that’s the window in the master
bedroom. Not five minutes ago, the three of us were standing in the
master bedroom, and I am certain beyond all doubt—”

Majora and Hays dashed back into the house, while the
Chief—well, we’ve already been through that. Least ta say, he
lumbered on up behind ‘em, humpin’ up them stairs again and
thumpin’ right back into the master bedroom but by the time he
got there, Hays and Majora had long since arrived and had made
their astonishing discovery which the Chief, only now, could see
with his own two eyes.

A right quick, a’corse, the Chief put out a state-wide APB on Doc
Willis’ fancy red kraut Mercedes, and a missin’ persons on his wife.
What he kept under his lid, however, was the disappearance’a the
Doc’s body which, though theoretically explainable, might sound at
least a smidgen ridiculous and no doubt aim a few critical chuckles in
the Chief’s direction. What was he to say? What?
‘Tween the time I
walked downstairs’n heard the sound of a motor startin’, Doc Willis’
body disappeared? And so did six empty 2-liter bottles’a Coke? And,
no, I’m not implyin’ fer a second that I think Doc Willis’ CORPSE dropped out the winder’n stolt those bottles’n then drove off in that
fancy nazi car...
Shee-it. It were tough bein’ Chief!
The lovely Captain Majora had departed in her drab government
car, but promised to git back in touch soon. Since she anticerpated
an investigation that might be on the lengthy side, she needed to
get situated at some local accommodations, and the Chief helpfully
suggested the White Horse Motel right off’a Main Street, across
from the stationhouse. Doc Willis bein’ kilt and havin’ his body
stole, and a’corse his wife disappearin’—these were certainly grave
matters in a town like Luntville, but the Chief did recognize one good
point: the beautiful Captain Majora workin’with ‘em on the case.
Yes
sir,
he mused.
She shore is one fine-lookin’and soffistercated gal, all
class—
And then he pictured her in his mind--a rather sensual image:
Waking up to chirping sparrows, fresh morning air billowing in
through the open windows of his double-wide, turning in the warm
bed beckoned by her lovely scent and then seeing her there asleep at
his side, one pretty arm draped lovingly across his large chest, and
then her big green eyes flutter open and she looks at him and smiles
and whispers “I love you, sweetheart . . .”
Here here.