The Demise of McCracken
Down at the end of Austin's Brook Lane,
where the stone bridge crosses the water,
was where it happened all those years ago.
In this town it's like it was yesterday.
It's the topic of discussion at the drop of a hat.
Opinions stretch out and muscle in for room.
This run of opinions is diverse, much like the candy
carried in that box by that young Forrest Gump.
Never heard tell that anyone actually eyeballed
the nefarious happening on or near that bridge,
but theories and innuendoes come by barrow full.
Some are close to possible, others just make you
pee your britches.
When a town is this small and everyone thinks they
know ALL of your business its hard to keep a secret,
let alone pull off something like this in the dark of night
and think boney fingers aren't going to start pointing.
Many a fist fight and hissy fit have been at the end of
one of those damned accusing boney fingers
and what's funny is those boney fingers belong folks
famous for early to bed, sleep like a fermented log
and early to rise.
Their position is that supposition must be kin to
observation and if enough of the boney fingers
point in the same way well, that ought say something
to that donut eating Sheriff or at least to his
dim witted, but eager, Deputy Dan.
In the Sheriff's defense, he does have quite stack of
evidence, photos' interviews, depositions
and the like sitting right there in plain view,
but for safety sake it's all stamped EVIDENCE- DO NOT TOUCH,
A sure sign that it will draw more eyes than a
ten cent burly show.
Endy Sue Baker knew that pile of hands off stuff as well as
she knew all the songs in the church hymnal.
She fancied herself a size 16 Nancy Drew and would
never dream of taking on an unskilled partner.
You remember young Dan, the dim bulb Deputy?
Seems he was a bit sweet on Endy Sue,
she would fetch him, straight out of the oven.
Anyway, the dashing Deputy and the pseudo-sleuth
decided to team up and set about solving this
ice cold case, finally putting those boney damned
fingers to rest.
Their partnership was real hush, hush...
here's a good spot for a wink!
Our girl Endy was a dilettante in chemistry and
had developed a method for keeping dufus Dan in line.
She had managed to create a Toll House cologne
that was teasingly light but delivered nothing.
Our Mensa Deputy never got wind of the fact that
he was just getting wind.
Armed with the spotty collection of evidence and
a desire to be small town heroes they headed down
Austin's Brook Lane just after dusk so as to raise no
suspicions with the rumor inclined populace.
After all the time that had passed what did they hope
to find that would pull all of the sketchy evidence together?
Having reached their destination and crossed over the
stone bridge they found this to be a quite pleasant
little plot of land that gave off no eerie sense that
something nefarious had ever occurred there.
Endy pulled out the hand drawn map of the purported
crime scene and walked the perimeters,
as delineated on the map.
Deputy Dan was reading over hastily scribbled notes
taken by the donut eating Sheriff all those year ago.
It would seem that one Jerry McCracken had been
found face down and pants down in a patch of fescue.
There were no outward signs of a struggle and no
foot prints or tire marks to indicate that he was not alone.
For all accounts and purposes this McCracken fellow
was a well liked member of the community who lived alone
in the old family home he inherited when his folks passed.
He did not own a car, he bicycled everywhere he went and
always had a friendly ring of his bell as he passed.
One would have to assume that he was not one who had
stacked up enemies.
If you are a fan of early CSI on television I can tell you
right now that the evidence collection on this case would
have made Gil Grissom stranger than usual.
With little to go on Endy's intuition had to come to fore.
As she looked around she noticed a huge bee's nest in the
hollow of an old tree and it was just buzzing with activity.
With this piece and that piece of sketchy evidence
she put together a theory that nobody to discount without
performing an exhumation of old McCracken's body,
and in a town this small that was highly unlikely to happen.
Anyway, here's Endy's theory as she shared with Deputy Dan.
McCracken had ridden his bike out to the brook for some piece
and quiet and while there the urge hit him in a fashion that
was not to be denied.
Once he dropped his pants he was stung by one of these highly
industrious bees. Nobody, including McCracken himself knew
that he was highly allergic to the bee venom and it dropped him
like a load, face down in the fescue and the urge he had felt...
went terminally unanswered.
An encore for Old McCracken submitted for the JFTLOI challenge
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