Merlin the Veterinarian
(Episode 9)
Leland thought he’d better give himself a while before he called Ramey. So he called Burt Campbell, the Kimmel County High’s science teacher. After that, he tromped around taking photos. And after that, he phoned Ruth, told her what was up, and by that time Merlin Travers, the Veterinarian had showed. Big animal, small animal, human; Merlin didn’t discriminate. But Leland always put Merlin’s charge into the Sheriff’s Canine Unit accounts column, because not having a dog was easier to explain away than not having a horse.
“What’s up, Leland?” Merlin said. He had parked his Range Rover immediately behind the parked Mercedes. Leland handed Merlin some latex gloves and shoe booties. And while Merlin put them on Leland explained.
“Woman here, by the name of Nancy Loomis it appears, parks her new Mercedes by the side of the road after its headlights have been shot out. Then she gets led off into the woods by two guys, it appears.” He motioned. “Try not to step on any of the footprints or to tromp on any of the evidence, of course.” He rolled his hand. “They have a bit of a walk, and then she’s murdered about 30 yards in.”
Merlin whistled.
“I want you to have a look at her. Tell me what you think?”
“Okay.” Merlin nodded. “Where’s Pete, our Kimmel County Coroner?”
“Sister City Convention business,” Leland replied, with a shake of his head.
“Aaahhh.” Merlin said. “Love the government. Work hard. Always short-handed.”
“Shut yer yap and just think about who’s paying you,” Leland retorted.
“Yessir.” Merlin smirked.
Merlin kept his promise. He just whistled lowly when he saw the mess that was left.
The first thing Merlin did, after standing and studying the scene silently, was to set the rectal thermometer. Then he began to examine the wounds. “He broke her hand for some reason. Maybe she had a gun? Maybe some of this blood is theirs?”
Leland nodded. He’d checked the Mercedes while waiting for the Vet, and sure enough, there was an empty holding clip right behind the ignition. He silently thanked his good fortune that Pete was on that Sister Cities tour this week. Merlin was the much better deal.
“Sideswiped her.” Merlin pointed to the grotesquely bent knee. “Probably in order to incapacitate her. “Hands tied with a plastic tie.” He probed around with his pencil. “Coat pocket ripped, burnt pencil-sized holes.” He laughed. “Maybe that’s where she carried her gun?” Leland nodded. Then Merlin began to examine the wounds. Finally, he stood.
“I had a schizophrenic who did his dog something like this, years ago,” Merlin rubbed his face hard, as if to rub away the vision. “He thought the dog must have had some kind of a transmitter or walkie talkie hidden somewhere on it – because he said he could “hear the dog talking to him”. So he went looking. “Like this guy, he pushed his hands into the skull cavity and let the brains squeeze through his fingers as if they were clay, looking for it.” Merlin pantomimed it. ”Apparently the dog had been bringing up some sore points and just wouldn’t let it drop.” Merlin glanced at Leland. “Could piss anyone off.”
“Yeah.” Leland scowled.
“The guy started taking his meds again, washed his hands, bought another dog, and everything was fine.” Merlin removed the rectal thermometer.
“So you’re saying I should just hang this guy up by his balls and beat him with a stick until he promises to start taking his meds again,” Leland growled.
“No. You need to shoot him. There’s obviously two of them. Which means the guy’s not off his meds. Or there is something else going on. Something much more long-standing, I’d say. Because he’s able to recruit help. And I’m guessing he pays them with a little ‘whoopee!’” Merlin nodded at the spread knees and the shredded clothing. “You really need to have the body examined though, and do the whole rape work up.”
Leland nodded.
“Is that it?”
“You think I have another couple murders around here for you to look into?”
Merlin’s eyebrows rose. He took a look at thermometer, then wiped it clean and put it away. “I figured she must have died about 12 hours ago.” He sighed. “Can I go, then? There’s a dog who’s breeching, and she’s about 20 miles away.”
“Sure. Get lost,” Leland said.
“Will do.” Merlin waved and walked off through the undergrowth.
Leland stayed to gaze around the scene and think some more. Then he trudged back out to the roadway to welcome the ‘kids’.
Photo by Carl Nelson
Tags: cow noir, Eldon Cene, murders, serial fiction, serial killer, tabloid journalism, thriller, writing
Schn00dles's Blog 
October 25, 2012 at 9:12 am10 |
This igetting hard to read. It’s pretty raw.
October 25, 2012 at 9:12 pm10 |
Editor replies: I will tell Eldon. Last time I visited him though, there was blood all over the place.