Death Is Overdue POD Print
In an isolated cabin in the woods of Montana, village outsider Wooly Jacoby secretly witnesses the brutal murder of Calvin Lampert. Come the spring thaw, Hugh Winslow’s two dogs drag a body from the river. The remains are a bit questionable, but it is indeed Wooly Jacoby, last seen in mid-November.
A search of Wooly’s shack reveals hundreds of discarded library books and several old newspaper clippings about various federal grants to the local town leaders—but no hint of Calvin Lampert.
With the help of Hugh, his family, and his two Malamutes, Sheriff Beatrice follows a trail of blackmail, adultery, and questionable official behavior to find the connection between the two killings.
Sensuality rating: 0
Cover Art by Bev Haynes
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During dessert and with pleasant conversation, the head was nearly split with the ax. Not the ax from the wood shed, but the old rusted one that had lain half buried under years of rotting leaves beside the once used outhouse. The force was such that the worn handle almost broke loose from the steel head of the ax. A crunching sound from the skull brought reminders of cockroach stomping. Yet with cockroaches there was no blood, but now it spurted everywhere.
Must have hit a main artery. Carotid artery?Really mustfind out. The brain matter didn’t really split like the skull, just kind of oozed around the ax head like mashed potatoes. The fork flew up, and apple pie plopped into a running pool of blood. It carried brown sugar and flaky crust down through the cracks of the ancient pine boards. The body squiggled and squirmed, then jerked back, eyes wide, mouth vomiting blood and apple chunks. Always was a sloppy eater.God forbid death shouldbe neat.
A moment more and it slumped in the spindle back oak chair. Last meal was over. A black garbage bag over the head and tied securely with rope served to hold back the blood flow as the body was dragged with surprising energy from the kitchen, through the back porch, and out into the darkness of early winter. The tool shed proved too low a structure to swing the ax fully, so the body was dragged through the foot of snow to the pole barn. It would probably be best to butcher the body first into quarters, like a chicken, then into smaller chunks.
Each whack of the ax brought a smile to its handler’s face. Amazing how easy it is to cut through bones. Not at all like trying to chop through cottonwood or aspen.
The job was finished with some more wrapping with plastic garbage bags, appropriate for garbage such as this, and stored under the tarp covering the rusted disk harrow parts at the rear of the barn. Ground was much too hard to bury the mess. Wait till spring thaw.
Better go back and shuffle through the path and cover the blood trail with fresh snow. Then clean the kitchen and finish the pie with a nice hot cup of cocoa while in front of the fire. On second thought, maybe a cold drink. Amazing how hot you can get even in sub-zero weather when chopping up a body. A little TV would be nice and get to bed early for a change.