wizened, whiskered old man in a wheelchair. A man with—
Jake Martin. Tuckton's grandfather...
'I'se so pissed. I'se in a
'Only fittin' an’ proper, son. Just like it says in God's book. An eye fer a eye!'
'An' a heads fer a head!'
Cummings stared.
The boy, a big, brawny, short-haired lad with a surprisingly friendly face, lowered his trousers and promptly inserted his erect penis into the hole in the corpse's head. Then, biting his lower lip in a perverse rage, he grabbed the corpse's ears, and—
Began to hump.
He began to hump the head.
'Ooo-eee!' the footless old man exclaimed. 'Hump that there evil head, boy. I say,
As Cummings stared on, his sentience felt akin to a swamp rat racing round in his mind, madly seeking exit. The old man in the chair had his penis out too, was masturbating as he whooped. And Tuckton continued to hump the head in a fury...
'Yeah. Travis! Do'm up
'Gonna come in his head so hard. Grandpappy' the boy huffed, humping away, 'my peckersnot's gonna squirt out his butt!'
'Yeah, boy! Yeeeeeah!'
So here it was, right before Cummings’ eyes. He'd stumbled upon this, he was
He was witnessing a header...
Cummings, an automaton now, unholstered his service revolver. Turned. Walked up the porch steps and entered the dilapidated house.
'Aw, shee-it, Grandpap,' he heard, 'I'se gonna gets me off my first nut likes
'Go fer it, boy! Get it! We'se got all night ta fuck that head, plenty time fer more nuts. Why, I'se'll hump four 'er five times myself! So don’t’cha worry 'bout comin' fast. Pipe a load a juice that'd make yer daddy
Numb, and oddly fearless, Cummings stepped into the room.
'Who the
The boy, evidently in the spasms of orgasm, slowed down his pelvic thrusts into the corpse-head and opened his eyes.
''S'a cop!' he realized.
Cummings squeezed off the first shot. The boy's eye disappeared as a pulpy red blur, and he fell away from the table, from the... head. He landed on the wood floor hard as a side of fresh-butchered beef, his erection still pulsing down, offering semen to the air.
'Ya blammed fuckin' cop! Look what'cha done!'
Cummings' second shot caught the old man in the belly, who doubled over in the wheelchair. And—
The third shot divided the top of his head almost as cleanly as a machete through a melon.
Cummings stood. Stared. For the second time in a day his eyes went wide in spite of rising cordite. Silence like a graveyard at 3 a.m. insinuated about him, and so did the simple thought.
That's all it had taken. Three shots from his service revolver, and it was all over...
And Cummings did just that. He redonned his gloves, grabbed a cardboard box from a random shelf. He took a boot off the body of Travis Clyde Tuckton, grabbed the power-drill still fitted with the 3-inch holesaw, grabbed the kitchen knife, and put it all in the box. Then he took it all out to the car and drove back to the Russell County BATF Field Office.
........
The drive back left him stunned—or, not so much the drive, but his musings. Talk about a busy day.
It was a revitalization he needed. Killing two drug dealers and copping their green was one thing. But... this? In a matter of minutes, and with three shots from his duty piece, he'd solved a murder case...
Cummings parked. A state unmarked was in the lot too, and he could only guess that they were following up Beck's evidence, talking to Peerce.
He walked into the FO.
'I did it, boss.' he announced.
Peerce looked up from his desk.
Cummings was nearly out of breath now. 'I solved the head-humping murders.'
'Ya did...
'Caught them in the act, saw it with my own eyes. Shot them. They were... doing it right there in the window.'
'Stew—'
'Ex-con named Tuckton, and his grandfather. Had some guy right there on the table and they were... humping... his head.'
'Stew, shut up a minute.'
Cummings peered. 'What's wrong. J.L.? I just got done telling you I solved the header murders.'
Peerce spat in his proverbial cup. Only then did Cummings notice the other man in the claustrophobic office.
Hard-looking guy, tall. State uniform but he had stripes down his pants and a crest on the bill of his hat. A state captain or above...
But Cummings noticed something else.
The state officer had his gun drawn.
'This here's major Phil Straker.' Peerce told him. 'He's liaison officer 'tween state IAD an' narcotics.'
'Narc—' But that's all Cummings could get out.
'Yer unner arrest. Stew, fer two count's'a first degree murder.'
Cummings fell bolted in place.
'Not to mention.' this Straker added, 'obstruction of justice, complicity with known felonious criminals, misprision of a felony, the willful theft of ill-gotten gains, and possession and illegal transport of controlled dangerous substances.'
'Don't even say nothin', Stew. They got'cha cold,' Peerce said. On his desk was a portable field VCR. Peerce turned it on, toned up the tiny screen.