Surrounded by motel guests who had come around the backyard to see what had happened, Sheriff Erik ordered them to return to their rooms. Leaving behind the second crime scene, I went to see Chuck. I found him drinking in Daryl’s room. They assured me that they had hidden all illegal substances. Not surprisingly, Chuck was shaking like an epileptic suffering a seizure. “What’s up with all the killings around here, boss? You know it messes me up. Your little motel paradise is turning into a damn battlefield.”
Calmer and collected than Chuck, Daryl came to shake my hand. “Congratulations, buddy. There hasn’t been this much excitement since Chuck’s handmade fireworks killed one of your chickens last Labor Day.” Chuckling nervously, his hand trembled as he tried to light a cigarette. He took
