Fire at Dusk: Part 32

Mike paced silently in front of the table. He paused and turned to face the shelf of skulls. “You know,” he said, “This was all Parker's doin'. Started with a Yank fallin' into one of our traps. Parker always hated them Yanks mighty fierce.”

He pulled out a pipe and a small bag of tobacco. He gripped the soft shreds of tobacco between his fingers and stuffed them into the pipe, then he shoved the baggy back into his pocket.

“That Yank, he yelled at us fer puttin' traps out in the middle of the woods. Parker didn't take kindly ta being yelled at by him, 'specially since these were our stompin' grounds. They got inta a brawl. He pushed the Yank onto the ground.”

He bit down lightly on the pipe and wrapped his lips around the mouthpiece. He puffed on it as he lit it with a match. He felt the light wisps of smoke fill his mouth and the sweet smell of pipe tobacco wafted lightly through the air.

“Then Parker pulled out a knife. I thought he was just gonna have a little fun with him, maybe give him a scar or somethin', but he had murder on his mind. He slit old tubby's neck. I ain't never seen so much blood. He blamed me ya know, fer not stoppin' him. Said I were an 'accessory'. Said we were both gonna get locked up unless I helped him get rid of the body.”

He nursed the pipe in his hand and gazed into the pipe's chamber. The tobacco smoldered as threads of smoke wove their way around his face. He sighed then puffed at the pipe. After a minute he continued. “Parker bein' the butcher said the best way to get rid of the body was ta grind it up and turn it into sausage then burn and mill the bones. He said burnnin' up the whole body would take too long and would smell ta high heavens. We spent the next few weeks like long-tailed cats in a room full of rockin' chairs, sure we were gonna get caught, but nobody ever was any the wiser.”

He looked over at Buck and Shirley Sue. Their faces had developed a green tinge and they exchanged glances with each other as though they could not believe what he was saying. He couldn't blame them. It was an unbelievable story. He took a few more puffs on his pipe and blew a smoke ring, then watched as it drifted through the air, disappearing into nothingness.

“Somethin' changed in him after that. I think it were the money that did it. We found a couple hundred in the wallet and the townsfolk just couldn't get 'nough of the sausage. Sold out after a couple days, ya know. Then he started settin' up traps tryin' to catch the Yanks. He even hunted one or two of 'em when he didn't catch one in a while. Said them Yanks were nothin' but cattle and deserved what they got. It never set quite right fer me, but the money was good...” Mike trailed off. He shook his head. “It was all goin' hunkydory until the other night. That's when he caught them pair of witches.” Mike glared at the body hanging from the wall. “The man said that on his death our evil would come to life and 'bring a plague of death on the townsfolk' until we were both dead. I got real scared 'bout it but Parker just laughed it off, sayin' he didn't believe in that stuff. He said there ain't no such thing as curses.” Mike scoffed. “Guess he was dead wrong.”