Read Online Bad Juju: A Novel of Raw Terror by Randy Chandler - Free Book Online

narrow butt in a front porch
rocker and chew the fat with Paw.  The elder son Luther was usually off
somewhere in his muscle car, most likely cruising the neighboring town of
Vidalia for easy women, as he considered himself a pussy hound. It was Luther
who did most of the dope dealing, but sometimes he would take Cowboy along to
ride shotgun, particularly if he expected trouble, or if he just wanted a show
of shooting-iron force. Cowboy was the most unstable one of the bunch, with a
hair-trigger temper and a voracious appetite for attention. Luke suspected that
any break in the case would come from Cowboy’s loose lips.
    Right on schedule, Fate came out on
the front porch and sat in his rocker.  He fired up his pipe and commenced to
rock to and fro, the chair creaking beneath the weight of his big frame.
    Five minutes later, Cowboy emerged
from the house and sat on the porch rail. He pushed up the front brim of his
hat. “When’s Luther coming back, Diddy?”
    Luke adjusted the aim of the
shotgun mike, pointing it at the space between father and son.   
    “I ’spect he’ll be home directly,”
Fate said.
    “Reckon what he’s found out?”
    “Have to wait and see.” Fate’s
voice was edged with irritation.
    “You think them boys done something
to Odell?”   
    “Goddamn it, boy. Stop pestering
me. Ain’t you got nothing better to do?”
    “I’m just worried about him is all.
Ain’t like Odell to just go off like that and not tell nobody.”
    Fate puffed his pipe and looked
around as if he’d heard something close by.   
    “Gramaw says she fears the worst.
She says all the signs are real bad.”
    Fate grunted. “She says a lot of
things. That don’t make it so.”
    “But she read the bones. And they
ain’t hardly ever wrong.”
    “Maw’s feeling poorly. Hell, she’s
old as dirt. I wouldn’t put too much stock in what she reads in them chicken
bones. Nor her tea leaves. Now Luther’s looking into it, and he’ll find out
what there is to find out. So you just forget about Maw’s talk of omens and
such. Ain’t none of that gonna tell us what happened to Odell.”
    “Okay, Diddy. I’m just worried is
all.” Cowboy jumped down from the rail, spun around toward the front yard and
drew his pistol. “Tell you what, though. If we find out them boys done
something to Odell, I’m gonna put so much lead in ’em, it’ll take a Mack truck
to haul off their bodies.”
    “You ain’t gonna do nothing unless
I tell you to. Don’t you forget that, Cowboy.”
    “No, sir. I won’t.” He spun the
pistol on his finger, then holstered it with his usual flair for showmanship.
    Luke’s full attention was riveted
on the two men, and he was hanging on their every word. Odell was obviously
missing, and the Porch clan suspected “them boys” of having something to do
with his disappearance. Whoever the “boys” were, this was certainly an
interesting development. He considered the possibility of catching the Porch
men in the act of committing new crimes, then cautioned himself not to count
chickens before eggs were laid.
    From inside the house, the old lady
called out for Cowboy.
    “Coming, Gramaw,” Cowboy yelled. He
went inside, the screen door slamming shut behind him.
    A few minutes later, Luke heard the
rumble of an approaching vehicle. He looked to his right and focused his
attention on the driveway leading from the dirt road to the house. A moment
later a Firebird came speeding up the driveway and stopped in front of the
house. Luther Porch hopped out of the car and bounded up the front steps.
    “Well?” Fate said.
    “It’s the undertaker’s boy,” Luther
said. “I know where he lives, where he works and who he hangs out with.”
    “Partain’s boy?”
    “Yes sir. That’s the one. Works at
the grocery store.”
    Luke thought, Skeeter Partain?
What the hell’s he got to do with Odell?
    Fate said something that was
garbled, and Luke inched forward, moving the shotgun mike