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Small Town Monsters

7

the old man’s mind was Danny Slade, that and werewolves.”

“El chupacabra, sasquatch, and werewolves? Damn, that’s got to be an all-star cast.” Clay laughed.

Kurt huffed and steepled his fingers at the bridge of his nose. “Something about this whole situation bothers me. This little town isn’t used to killing of any kind. I’ve seen what can happen when something evil smacks down and there is no clear suspect or motive. People start band wagoning and pointing fingers. And once the band wagon starts moving, it can roll right over an innocent scapegoat.”

“But nothing bad has happened; just a few dead sheep.”

“Come on, around here, if you kill a man’s herds, you might as well take out his children,” Kurt said. “I don’t know why, call it a feeling in my gut, but I think we need to be prepared.”

“Prepared for what?

“Do you think there’s a file on Danny Slade in that mess of an archive system downstairs?” Kurt asked.

“I reckon there is,” Clay said.

“Why don’t you go down there and dig it up for me.”

“That case is fifty years old,” Clay said.

“I don’t believe in el chupacabra, werewolves, or sasquatch. But I do believe in the evil that men do. Get me the Slade file. I gotta start somewhere.”

Clay rolled his eyes; the file room was a mess of cabinets, papers, and dust that he didn’t care to visit.

“Consider it a light sentence for your tardiness,” Kurt said, a smug smile creasing his face. “I think I’m going to head up to Artemus Slade’s place and see what else I can find out.”

“Now that old man’s a wacko.”

Kurt put a hand on each of the boy’s stolid shoulders. “Son, there are a lot of wacko’s around here. And if you don’t watch out, you’re liable to become one yourself.”

“No chance.”

“Get down to the archives and see what you can find.”

Clay huffed and headed towards the station basement.

Kurt left the stack of reports on his desk for a later time and set out for Artemus Slade’s place.