Page 14 of Long Pig
Again, Willow led the way. The dogs were back in the house and hadn’t been happy about it. Dale and the doctor spoke in low voices at the rear of the pack, catching up with life as they hiked. She knew it had to be hard on Dale not to have men to talk to. She, on the other hand, was glad that Louisa was the only woman around. She and her husband Roger were neighbors and good people. Louisa was teaching Willow about caring for horses. As much as Willow would love to own one, they were a lot of trouble, work, and money. She got her fill when Louisa and Roger went out of town.
The new deputies said a few words to her, so she upped her pace. If they could speak, she wasn’t going fast enough. When they hit the ravine, Dale took point and had Dr. Hampson join him.
Willow stood back while the deputies and doctor looked at the remains.
“It looks like a saw blade was used,” the doctor said. “If so, chances are good it’s a homicide. I’m no forensic specialist, but I’d say ten years or more. I’ll collect the bones and send them to the state lab.”
“They work like snails,” Dale muttered.
“True, but there’s no budget for something like this where the killer is likely long gone. Hell, that Hogg family could have been the culprits. This area attracts the crazies,” he smiled at Dale. “Yep, I’m including you in that statement too.”
“Harsh,” said Dale with a return smile. “But you’re right. People like the Hoggs are a dime a dozen out here.”
The doctor stood and looked at the deputies. “Glove up and walk a grid search. If we can find clothing, jewelry, or even a wallet, it would hasten identification.”
Willow found a boulder to sit on at the entrance to the ravine and waited. It took about an hour. The doctor came out first, carrying a thick plastic bag over his shoulder. She couldn’t help thinking that someone who had once been living and breathing was now in a trash bag.
The only thing she was thankful for was the bones would no longer be on the property.
Chapter Eight
Fires and Dog Meat
Larry
By age twelve, Larry was proficient at processing cows, pigs, and various other animals without supervision. Clyde also took hunting orders and processed the kills, which gave Larry even more experience. His work ethic freed up time for his father. Clyde would leave him alone in the shop, walk to the local pub in the afternoon, and have two beers while telling stories with his friends. It made his father happy, and Larry didn’t mind.
What he did mind was customers. He didn’t particularly like people, whether they were his own age or adults. The longer he worked behind the meat counter, the more he acknowledged it to himself.
One customer particularly riled him up.
Mrs. Levvy was a witch in disguise. She dyed her hair black, but always seemed to have an inch or two of white roots showing. A large dark mole rested on the side of her nose. The skin of her neck sagged a few inches down, making her look almost like a turkey. She relished times when Clyde wasn’t around. She verbally attacked “Young Mr. Slyme,” as she called him.
“The portions are smaller and cost more when you’re behind the counter,” she whined on a day that Larry had worked his butt off while processing a hunting order.
“I weigh the beef on the same scale my father uses, and he sets the prices.” He did his best to keep his tone level and the frustration off his face.
“Are you sure you don’t pocket money when your father is at the bar?” she sneered as she stared into the glass display.
Mrs. Levvy did not like the Irish Gentleman’s Pub and had no problem letting Larry know her feelings. His mother didn’t like the place either, and it gave Larry endless glee that his father was now a regular visitor. Though Mrs. Levvy complained to his father about the bar too, Clyde never responded to her barbs.
“I weigh the beef on the same scale my father uses, and he sets the prices,” Larry repeated calmly. “I hear the Patterson’s Butchery is having a sale on beef this week; you might try them.”
She sniffed with outrage and finally looked at him. “Their sale price is two cents above your regular price,” she chided while barely moving her lips from their usual thin line.
“Then we’re giving you the best price,” Larry said with a snide grin he couldn’t help.
“Please package the food I request, and know I’ll be watching if you use a finger press to add additional weight to the scale.”
Larry disliked plenty of people, but he hated Mrs. Levvy. For a week after dealing with her, he dreamed about ways to make her life miserable. None of his thoughts were pleasant. He wouldn’t mind threatening her with a bandsaw, maybe cutting off an arm and watching her bleed. He couldn’t believe someone hadn’t injured her before now.
He finally came up with a plan that he could carry out and get away with. He put the scheme into motion in theearly morning hours on a school day. Clyde kept kerosene in the garage for cleaning tools. Larry grabbed a half-filled can he didn’t think his father would miss, and walked to Mrs. Levvy’s home. He was able to stay in the shadows and didn’t see anyone. He needed to be out before the newsboy did his route.
He spread the kerosene behind her house along the back porch where it met the outer walls. Using his father’s lighter, he started a flame that quickly grew. Then he ran. Five houses down, there was an old Buick on the street. Larry climbed into the back seat and peeked over the green vinyl to watch.
He had to see what happened even though he knew it increased the chance he could be caught. The flames grew quickly. He wanted Mrs. Levvy to die in the fire, but he didn’t get his wish. Her husband dragged her from the home, both in their dressing robes, as she screamed for Murtle. She wailed and cried as the house burned. Larry slipped away after the fire department arrived. He ran home and jumped into bed until it was time to get dressed for school.
When the newspaper printed the story, Larry learned that Murtle was Mrs. Levvy’s small dog who had perished in the fire. He didn’t feel so bad that Mrs. Levvy or her husband didn’t die because he knew she hadn’t wanted to leave the house without saving her precious pet. The article said how much she loved that dog. It left young Larry in a very good mood. He had just turned thirteen.