“He was found slumped over the steerin’ wheel of uh wrecked Toyota, the entry wound from uh .38 caliber dumdum bullet rubbed with garlic in his left ear,” the sheriff recalls.
“You definitely have an eye for detail, Sheriff. So do you remember what was in his jacket pocket?”
The sheriff nods his heavy head carefully, almost as if he is afraid of dislodging a thought. “Uh hearin’ aid, which was peculiar inasmuch as Purchase Honeycut wasn’t deaf.”
“But Word Perkins was. Is.” Lemuel brings up a grunt of satisfaction. “From a psychological point of view, there is a certain logic to a deaf man shooting his victims in the ear.”
The sheriff rocks forward until the edge of his desk bites into his stomach. “There wasn’t no blood splattered around the
