Read Online Skunk Hunt by J. Clayton Rogers - Free Book Online
Authors: J. Clayton Rogers
Tags: murder and crime, shootouts, treasure hunt mystery, hidden loot, hillbilly humor, robbery gone wrong, trashy girls and men, twin brother, greed and selfishness, sex and comedy
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should show it to you," said
Barbara.
"You're not supposed to," I said. "It's got a
secret password."
"Oh, yeah. But the letter says something
about me...you know, that only Skunk would know."
"Embarrassing?"
"You wouldn't believe," she said
emphatically.
"That's all right. I'm not going to show you
mine, either. And I'm sure Doubletalk will keep his to himself. By
the way, he says he might be able to get hold of a computer. It
looks like we need one to do any of this. I would hate to do it at
the library."
"Yeah, it's hard being quiet," Barbara said
doubtfully. "What did Skunk know about computers?"
"What did he know about light sockets?" I
added. "That's why I think this is a sick joke."
There was a knock at the front door, polite,
almost too discrete to hear.
"Thanks," I said grimly, glaring at my
sister.
"What?" she asked, surprised.
"Your phone call. You and your mouth."
She assumed the deerstruck pose, folded and
mutilated, eyes wide with blindness. "You mean it's the
police?"
"Or worse. Shit, Sweet Tooth, you know we're
being watched."
"But that was years ago," she said
plaintively.
"Who's going to forget $850,000?"
Another knock, scarcely any louder.
"Maybe it's Doubletalk," Barbara suggested,
burning a quarter inch of tobacco in a single gulping intake.
I snickered and Barbara sucked a laugh. Yeah,
right. Imagine Jeremy knocking ever so courteously.
"We don't have to answer," said Barbara,
lowering her voice.
"We just sit here while they bust down the
door?" I said skeptically.
"We don't have anything to hide."
"The letters," I observed.
"Oh shit." Barbara clutched her bag
tightly.
"But it doesn't sound like they mean to break
in," I said when there was another light tap.
"So we sit tight?" Barbara gave me a
questioning glance, as though I had some sort of control over the
situation.
"Guess so," I shrugged.
We sat still for a couple of minutes,
listening to the intermittent tapping. I was beginning to wonder if
it was one of the Jehovah's Witnesses that plagued the area, trying
to convince students and the remaining locals to kiss up to God
before it was too late. Not too many people gave them (or the
Almighty, for that matter) the time of day.
Barbara had gone pale.
"What is it?" I asked.
"What if it's... him ."
"Who?" I said.
" Dad ."
"Skunk is dead."
"That's what I mean."
"You mean a ghost ? Knocking on his own door? In the middle of
the day?"
"Stranger things have happened," Barbara said
breathlessly.
"Name one."
She frowned at me. I knew she was stumped, or
hoped she was. But rather than prolong the tension and risk further
supernatural qualms, I got up and went to the door. I didn't have a
peephole, a bit of frugality I now regretted. Whoever or whatever
was on the other side would be an unavoidable surprise.
I opened the door.
I was surprised.
"Doubletalk," I said.
Jeremy looked at me a long moment, then said,
"I guess I didn't knock hard enough. I didn't want to disturb you
in case...well, in case..."
In case I was jerking off?
But I don't think that was on his mind. I got
the impression he had been hoping no one would answer.
CHAPTER 6
"What a pigsty," Jeremy winced as he
unshouldered two black nylon bags and laid them on the kitchen
table.
Barbara and I exchanged glances. Her comment
about the house, that 'nothing had changed', was not exactly a
compliment, but at least withheld judgment. Jeremy's outburst was
spontaneous and honest. He shriveled like a prissy old maid dumped
in a dorm filled with orangutans.
He was Skunk's boy, all right, right down to
the thick neck and heavy tread and a face winched up into the
narrow cavern of his eyes. Otherwise, in his madras shorts and polo
shirt, he could have just finished a quick jog across the Harvard
quad. The crew cut...that was pure Skunk. But it was tight and trim
as our father's had never been. No beer sweat here.
I had the qualified pleasure of seeing
Barbara as dumbfounded as I had been when I saw the new
Barbara.
"You're not supposed to," I said. "It's got a
secret password."
"Oh, yeah. But the letter says something
about me...you know, that only Skunk would know."
"Embarrassing?"
"You wouldn't believe," she said
emphatically.
"That's all right. I'm not going to show you
mine, either. And I'm sure Doubletalk will keep his to himself. By
the way, he says he might be able to get hold of a computer. It
looks like we need one to do any of this. I would hate to do it at
the library."
"Yeah, it's hard being quiet," Barbara said
doubtfully. "What did Skunk know about computers?"
"What did he know about light sockets?" I
added. "That's why I think this is a sick joke."
There was a knock at the front door, polite,
almost too discrete to hear.
"Thanks," I said grimly, glaring at my
sister.
"What?" she asked, surprised.
"Your phone call. You and your mouth."
She assumed the deerstruck pose, folded and
mutilated, eyes wide with blindness. "You mean it's the
police?"
"Or worse. Shit, Sweet Tooth, you know we're
being watched."
"But that was years ago," she said
plaintively.
"Who's going to forget $850,000?"
Another knock, scarcely any louder.
"Maybe it's Doubletalk," Barbara suggested,
burning a quarter inch of tobacco in a single gulping intake.
I snickered and Barbara sucked a laugh. Yeah,
right. Imagine Jeremy knocking ever so courteously.
"We don't have to answer," said Barbara,
lowering her voice.
"We just sit here while they bust down the
door?" I said skeptically.
"We don't have anything to hide."
"The letters," I observed.
"Oh shit." Barbara clutched her bag
tightly.
"But it doesn't sound like they mean to break
in," I said when there was another light tap.
"So we sit tight?" Barbara gave me a
questioning glance, as though I had some sort of control over the
situation.
"Guess so," I shrugged.
We sat still for a couple of minutes,
listening to the intermittent tapping. I was beginning to wonder if
it was one of the Jehovah's Witnesses that plagued the area, trying
to convince students and the remaining locals to kiss up to God
before it was too late. Not too many people gave them (or the
Almighty, for that matter) the time of day.
Barbara had gone pale.
"What is it?" I asked.
"What if it's... him ."
"Who?" I said.
" Dad ."
"Skunk is dead."
"That's what I mean."
"You mean a ghost ? Knocking on his own door? In the middle of
the day?"
"Stranger things have happened," Barbara said
breathlessly.
"Name one."
She frowned at me. I knew she was stumped, or
hoped she was. But rather than prolong the tension and risk further
supernatural qualms, I got up and went to the door. I didn't have a
peephole, a bit of frugality I now regretted. Whoever or whatever
was on the other side would be an unavoidable surprise.
I opened the door.
I was surprised.
"Doubletalk," I said.
Jeremy looked at me a long moment, then said,
"I guess I didn't knock hard enough. I didn't want to disturb you
in case...well, in case..."
In case I was jerking off?
But I don't think that was on his mind. I got
the impression he had been hoping no one would answer.
CHAPTER 6
"What a pigsty," Jeremy winced as he
unshouldered two black nylon bags and laid them on the kitchen
table.
Barbara and I exchanged glances. Her comment
about the house, that 'nothing had changed', was not exactly a
compliment, but at least withheld judgment. Jeremy's outburst was
spontaneous and honest. He shriveled like a prissy old maid dumped
in a dorm filled with orangutans.
He was Skunk's boy, all right, right down to
the thick neck and heavy tread and a face winched up into the
narrow cavern of his eyes. Otherwise, in his madras shorts and polo
shirt, he could have just finished a quick jog across the Harvard
quad. The crew cut...that was pure Skunk. But it was tight and trim
as our father's had never been. No beer sweat here.
I had the qualified pleasure of seeing
Barbara as dumbfounded as I had been when I saw the new
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