Murder in the Palouse Page 2

  It is interesting to note that Bessie Mae Sowers always sits next to her personal hero Patch (until a couple other Curmudgeons nudged her out, that is), anytime they are together at a meeting, dinner, lunch, breakfast or anytime and or at any place she could. Although the other partners, excepting Sue, of course, always understood that Bessie Mae is either Patch’s right or left hand—and maybe both hands they were and are not jealous; or so that is the persona they displayed. To sum up Bessie Mae Sower’s attraction to Thomas Jonathan Stonewall Jackson Patch it can be said that for her it was social and not all business. Oh by the way, both Patch and Sue also appreciated the fact that Bessie Mae is totally honest—she says what she thinks and thinks what she says.

  Gee, in these days of unrest, liberal, commie, snowflake destruction of our major cities and the killing of innocent people and police officers it is sooooooooooo heart-warming, refreshing to know that at least someone in this country is honest and speaks the truth, no matter what.

  Right on, Jose, Paco and Maria.

  Okay enough righteous preaching for a moment (for a moment only, snowflakes). Let’s continue with the introduction of the Curmudgeon Partners.

  Next, third member (partner) of Curmudgeons’ Inc. (Patch is not considered a partner; instead, he is the head mentor, quiet but thoughtful, penetrating (in thought) spokesman and owner) is the famous (more correctly, infamous; today known worldwide for her individual exploits) L. Lovey (Don’t even think about asking her what the L. stands for.)

  No way, Jose, Paco and Maria.

  Anyway, L. Lovey, a former FBI agent who left the Agency because of their tendency to interfere in politics and go after innocent people is an expert in many weapons of death. As mentioned, L. Lovey is now a super-star in the minds of many and especially the media who like to portray and promote the blossoming of women into the forefront … the forefront of just about anything and everything.

  She became nationally and internationally famous when she rode the pale stallion, Chief Gall, down a steep grassy hill in front of the Crazy Horse Memorial in the Blacks Hills of South Dakota and right at the serial killers, the infamous Williams sisters. And, although being shot at several times, L. Lovey was able to kill both sisters. One of the sisters she did in with a hand-ax thrown that landed directly between the sick bitch’s eyes. When she had killed the perps, her stallion, Chief Gall, reared or shied and L. Lovey rendered those classic words: “Hi Yo, Chief Gall, Away!” This is when local Native Americans fell in love with her for recognizing the greatness of their past and present, and signifying that they are the true Americans occupying those deplorable places where they must hole up and reside in—those are reservations, of course.

  In L. Lovey’s perspective, the shame and the plight of Native Americans today can’t be overstated and should never be overlooked.

  Shame on us, Jose, Paco and Maria.

  Anyway, besides L. Lovey being the partner of choice, keep in mind that anytime you visit a dark alley occupied by murderers and women beaters she is the perfect fit to protect you, and a perfect fit for Curmudgeon’s Inc. Even Bessie Mae, who totally and completely loved Patch and knew L. Lovey felt the same way, accepted her into the organization as a full partner and team player.

  The two women knew about their mutual feelings toward Patch, but they accepted that Patch would never ever choose one over the other … or anyone, for that matter. So, the 5-foot 9-inch redheaded beauty (of course) fit right in with the Curmudgeons, and in the future, she would prove her worth more so than anyone could have expected or imagined.

  Let’s face it, grasshoppers … whenever anyone mounts a pale stallion and charges two killers (who are both shooting at her) and she is able to kill them both without being wounded, we are talking about some kind of fantastic woman—say again, L. Lovey is some kind of fantastic woman (emphasis on woman, of course).

  Right on, Jose, Paco and Maria—“shit we love women.”

  Wow, don’t we all?

  Ok, you are asking who the fuck is next; that is, who is the next partner making up Curmudgeon’s Inc.?

  Who makes up that cadre of licensed trackers, finders and killers?

  Good questions, grasshoppers and dumbass snowflakes.

  Well, for the growing detective agency (equal to none) known as Curmudgeon’s Inc. the early members thought it was great that L. Lovey has an identical twin sister, K. Lovey. K. Lovey’s introduction to Curmudgeon’s Inc. became one of those indelible memories for Susan B. Anthony Patch. Sue recalled that K. Lovey had showed up at Curmudgeon’s Inc. right on time at 0900 on a Tuesday morning. When she was escorted into the second floor conference room by Bessie Mae Sowers the Curmudgeons were sitting at the conference table and were immediately struck and in awe … K. Lovey, except for the power suit she was wearing, was a carbon copy of L. Lovey—5 ft 9 in. freckled, green-eyed redhead with a body of total perfection and the fluid movement of an athlete. She was a woman of substance and confidence, straight-forward and all fucking business—and all fucking woman, too. She is the Curmudgeon’s kind of woman, for sure … Patch was so impressed with her looks and her very being and presence that he had to take a double swallow from his Salty Dog, and a couple of quick munches on his cucumber. Intuitively and privately he told himself that K. Lovey was a Curmudgeon in waiting and would sooner than later join them as a fulltime partner.

  Wow! What an accurate statement and proper feeling.

  K. Lovey’s interview lasted all of 1 minute and she was instantly hired as a full partner in Curmudgeon’s Inc.

  Right on, go get them girl, Jose, Paco and Maria.

  The next partner to join Curmudgeon’s Inc. is JoAnn Garrett.

  It would be difficult to compare the world of JoAnn Garrett with the world of anyone else.

  OK, but who the fuck is JoAnn Garrett, you ask?

  Good fucking question.

  Now, if we are speaking of doing a compare and contrast essay about JoAnn Garrett and the other Curmudgeon women and their backgrounds and their up-bringing that is a rather daunting and complex task at first but gets somewhat easier to accomplish with time.

  JoAnn Garrett, 55 years of age but with the looks of a 30-something and a body that would stop a freight train or Mack truck (the result of good genes and good, hard, fun-filled living) was born and raised in Northwest Seattle, in the Ballard District. The oldest of 7 children, she was mothered by a hard-working divorced seamstress who guided and tended to her brood’s needs throughout their growth from child to adult status.

  JoAnn attended 12 years of parochial school and trained herself in everything that is important today; including computer skills and analytical thinking. A class A+ personality, a go-getter with a dominating personality (don’t you just love domineering women? Shit, only a fool doesn’t—I love them, and so does Patch who is surrounded by a bunch of them, for sure). She is simply one of those can-do people who seem to be able to accomplish anything she sets her mind to.

  When JoAnn blossomed into the knock-down drag-out young beauty, she stimulated many young and old with whom she played around with. The fact is her various lovers simply could not get enough of it—whatever it was or is. She became an accomplished lover who fulfilled her sexual wants to the hilt … to the detriment of the men she wore out, (including half a dozen of her husbands before she was 35 years of age); they simply could not keep up with her and her demands, which were never ending and totally draining—to say the least; remember snowflakes this is a fucking family book—so we need to keep the shit to a limit.

  Oh, shit, please do, Jose, Paco and Maria.

  Now some braindead snowflakes, commies and other socialist no-loads might think that JoAnn’s character can be summed up with one three-letter word: Bad. Hmmmmmmm, that is interesting because if you were to ask her if she is bad, she would simply state in reply by asking, “What the fuck is good?” Ha, my kind of woman for sure but that is another matter. One of JoAnn’s longtime female friends once asked JoAnn “wouldn’t
it be better to be good than it is to be known as bad?”

  Well, hells bells and I am shipping out JoAnn no slouch in making quick responses to stupid questions and stupider people replied, “You know, being good is annoying, undesirable, difficult and definitely frustrating, grating and totally fucking irritating!” Of course and as you might imagine this reply always had JoAnn’s intended purpose; that is, it was meant for Effect with the capital E. JoAnn went on to explain that being good is not all it is chimed up to be … it is the old be careful what you wish for. Besides what does it mean to be good in the first fucking place. JoAnn finished lecturing her friend by stating, “I do not let bad things happen to me, I make bad things happen … because when I am bad, I am never sad! So, what is wrong with that sister?”

  Shit, we do not know, Jose, Paco and Maria.

  Anyway, this story has nothing to do with JoAnn Garrett’s sexual prowess (that sordid desire for never ending lovemaking might be detailed in a later large and scholarly account; a report that will make the main actor in Charlotte’s Way blush, and that takes some doing) or the alternative diversion that she found just as satisfactory: Poker (no, snowflake and other commies, not ‘poke her’, but instead the card game Poker). She learned the game early in life and quickly became the State Women’s Poker Playing Champion on an annual basis. Being successful in playing Poker for money requires skill, luck, and patience, patience and more patience. She had all of that in spades, diamonds, hearts and clubs (so to speak). She was so skilled at the game and in winning money that she could have made Poker-playing her station in life … but it was adventure that she really desired. She got good sex anytime she wanted it, and won at Poker anytime she desired but, again, it was adventure that she sought, required, wanted, and hunted for.

  What kind of adventure did JoAnn seek?

  Good question, grasshoppers and commie snowflakes.

  She tried a lot of different activities while attempting to satisfy her need for adventure. For example, she went to Africa and climbed Mt Kilimanjaro with a group. She climbed the south face of Mt St. Helens by herself. She never ignored or passed up the chance to ride a Zip Line anywhere she could find one … even the great one in the Amazon. She also tried hang-gliding, parachuting from planes and from a couple of mountain peaks. She later tried drag-racing and organized hotrod racing. She even spent a few months backpacking the entire Appalachian Trail, and then the Cascade Trail in the west. All of these activities excited her, but only for a few moments, hours, and days after accomplishing them … and no longer than that … no longer than the pleasure of a flower blossoming sexual orgasm.

  She told all her friends that there was nothing more boring than boredom itself.

  Right on, Jose, Paco and Maria.

  Anyway, JoAnn became fascinated with reports of the exploits of the investigative firm, Curmudgeon’s Inc. She noted that this firm grabbed several headlines and a great amount of esteem in the media, due to their investigations which resulted in the taking down of several serial killers. She read and listened to every account of the Curmudgeons’ adventures and was totally captivated by them; especially because the female Curmudgeons took on the Country’s worst killers; they found the evil bastards and, in every case, and every instance wasted them—brought them to final justice.

  It does not get any better than that.

  Not in JoAnn Garrett’s mind.

  A few months later when she saw the advertisement on-line and in the local newspapers about Curmudgeon’s Inc. needing and wanting to hire an office manager, she knew that job was heaven on Earth, or better than any other asshole place and she wanted that fucking job. JoAnn knew she had to have that position.

  Period.

  A must have, for certain.

  Right on, Jose, Paco and Maria.

  L. Lovey related her account of meeting JoAnn for the first time as follows:

  JoAnn Garrett, wearing blue jeans, tennis shoes, pink tank top and a black sports jacket with an embroidered peace symbol on her jacket walked, that is literally strode, into the boardroom at the Curmudgeons’ Inc. office. L. Lovey sat at the head of the table ready to interview her. Remember, L. Lovey was well known, totally famous for her take-down of the two vicious female serial killers in the Black Hills of South Dakota—in the hills fronting the Crazy Horse Monument. She accomplished this while riding the pale stallion Chief Gall (named after the famous Native American Chief credited with killing General Custer at the Battle of the Little Big Horn Sunday June 25, 1876 around noon). While L. Lovey quickly reviewed JoAnn’s resume, JoAnn stared at the huge painting of the pale stallion Chief Gall with L. Lovey riding (portrayed and dressed as the female Grim Reaper). JoAnn had seen this painting on TV, on the Internet and in the newspapers several times … the painting was famous—infamous, actually. Susan B. Anthony Patch had commissioned a couple of local artists and photographers to do the famous enlarged image. It became the hallmark portrait at Curmudgeon’s Inc. and even was portrayed on their business cards; it was something to look upon with pride; it symbolized what the Curmudgeons were all about. Also, L. Lovey, the rider in disguise as the Grim Reaper, of course, loved the picture—but she loved the Stallion, Chief Gall even more—Sue remembered thinking at the time and in the present that L. Lovey was the ultimate Pale Rider.

  L. Lovey had noticed JoAnn looking at the painting and waited until the two of them were eyeball to eyeball. “So, tell me about yourself and why you want the position of Office Manager here at Curmudgeon’s Inc.” L. Lovey said, while looking closer at the enthralling beauty looking straight back at her.

  JoAnn turned her head toward the wall painting and pointed a finger at it and said with emphasis, “I wish I had been there with you when you and Chief Gall took down those two evil fucking bitches!” At that exact moment JoAnn thought that L. Lovey was no reincarnation of Don Quixote tilting at the fucking windmills … no ma am, L. Lovey is for real, for certain.

  L. Lovey smiled and replied, “When do you fucking want to start to work here?”

  JoAnn smiled back pointed at the conference room entry door and said, “When I walked in that door … that’s when I started.”

  They stood in front of the painting and shook hands.

  “Welcome aboard, JoAnn.”

  “Thank you … you will not regret it.

  You got that fucking right, Jose, Paco, and Maria.

  Debbie Crockett became another addition to Curmudgeon’s Inc. after she assisted the Curmudgeon’s who were working a serial killer case in the Blue Ridge of Virginia; she is now a full-fledged equal partner. Crockett was a good hire for more than one reason. Reason one: Crockett was born and raised in Limestone, North Carolina, the hometown of her famous relative Davy Crockett; yes, Debbie Crockett is a direct descendant of Davy Crockett. Crockett’s southern roots fit perfectly with Thomas Jonathan Stonewall Jackson Patch and Susan B. Anthony Patch’s background, whose roots and up-bringing in Virginia where both were born, and their open-minded philosophy (depending on your point of view and inclination) and Crockett’s presence and deliverance; that is, not to kiss the asses of cold blooded perps but instead she possessed the penchant for finding and bringing absolute justice to cold-blooded killers. Her qualifications to be a Curmudgeon? Debbie Crockett, a PhD Summa Cum Laude graduate in environmental engineering at the age of 19 (now 27 years old), is an expert with both long- and hand-guns, crossbows, with knife- and hand-ax throwing, and also proficient in the use of a sling shot, not a child’s sling shot—no way Jose, Paco, and Maria—but instead, one that can send a marble-sized metal ball-bearing at great speed and accuracy at any target; including human targets—in other words she is expert in all of the common tools used by the Curmudgeons. Another reason for the perfect fit (secretly), was the fact that while serving as Chief Ranger of her area of responsibility on the Blue Ridge Parkway, Debbie Crockett yearned to be (just had to be…must be…) a card-carrying member of Curmudgeons Inc. She followed their legendary exploits; she was pleas
ed that the Curmudgeons consisted of a force of mostly determined women who were co-partners with the founders, Thomas Jonathan Stonewall Jackson Patch and his daughter Susan B. Anthony Patch, both who were infamous in the chronicles of law enforcement related to solving cases; cases which, as mentioned, always resulted in bringing to ultimate justice (legally wasting) baby killers, women beaters, serial killers, left wing bombers and other assorted braindead killers—basically in total we are referring to the absolute scum of Earth.

  The fact that Debbie Crockett was a knockdown, dragout woman with flaming red hair, gleaming green eyes, a patch of small freckles spread over her milky, pale cheeks and the fact that she was 5 ft 10 inches in height, framing a perfect body that gave her male observers instant hard-ons (if they were capable of that important physical reaction, you understand—not all men have the capacity to produce a real hard-on, so to speak) and her female observers who wanted to know her, wanted to be like her, wanted to make love to her, simply wanted to be her companion for life or on the other opposite wave length wanting to absolutely hate her (jealousy is alive and well, in case you were not aware of that) had nothing to do with why Thomas Jonathan Stonewall Jackson Patch and Susan B. Anthony Patch and their co-partners convinced her to join their organization, join their purpose in life, connect with their love of all things natural, and their complete and unquenchable desire to make a difference by solving difficult crimes and bringing the perps to ‘ultimate justice’.

  No, sir … that is not why they recruited Crockett.

  Well, let’s face it, grasshoppers and snowflakes, the members of Curmudgeon’s Inc. could not overlook a quality personality (and other personal assets—looks, smarts, and more smarts) that contributed to the composition of womanhood that was Debbie Crockett—a relative of one of the Nation’s greatest heroes and a heroine in her own self and right.