The Misophonic Murders

By Joseph Lange

Since the beginning of time, mankind has been fraught with the need to seek its revenge against their fellow man. All manner of instrumentation from the rock Cain used to bean his brother to the stealthy use of poison. Rage boiling inside to the point where it could no longer be contained. Bursting forth without the ability to control it. Emotional magma. Or perhaps the cunning deception of evil seething within one's dark and cold soul leading to the quiet satisfaction of vanquishing their tormentor. A weapon, my friends, is only defined as such, when it is used...as a weapon. Mankind's ability to end the life of their fellow man knows no limit. Murderous imagination. The instrumentality of evil, unlimited and incapable of being banned or its possession outlawed. Nor are the reasons to take those lives. History records all manner of what the actor rationalized as a valid reason. Why the tormentor simply. Must. Die.Greed. Perhaps a love lost. The heat is evil and desperately wicked-who can know it? The story you are about to partake in deals with a rationale just recently discovered. Spoken in hushed tones. Yes, it must be in hushed tones. In the hallowed halls of academia. Among the enlightened. Sit back, get comfy, maybe get yourself a bowl of popcorn, but I caution you, unless you are alone- Chew it quietly. Very, very quietly.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Covenant Books, Inc.
• Release date: Apr 10, 2019
• ISBN: 9781644718551

Book preview

Disclaimer

The following story is a work of pure fiction. Any similarities whatsoever to any person, place, or event, past or future, are purely coincidental and in no manner are reflective of actual facts or persons known or unknown.

One last thing…be careful out there.

Etiquette is all human social behavior. If you’re a hermit on a mountain, you don’t have to worry about etiquette; if somebody comes up the mountain, then you’ve got a problem. It matters because we want to live in reasonably harmonious communities. (Judith Martin a.k.a. Miss Manners)

Chapter 1

The chief of police started his day as every other day started in the quiet little town of Paltry Station. Population: 1181.

Do you have coffee started, he asked his secretary? I could really use a cup.

Shaking the snow off his shoulders, he hung his coat and proceeded to his office.

I should be retired already, he said as he searched for his coffee cup buried in the meaningless mess of his cluttered desk. He caught his reflection in the small mirror that hung by the wall along with his various photos of way too many years in law enforcement.

Staring into it, he saw the age that had somehow snuck up on him. His mind flashed to the time when things were different. When the city of Paltry Station was as vibrant as he once was.

The chief had been with the Paltry Station police department since getting out of high school, and that was too long ago to remember. Not a lot of serious crime to deal with, and most of it, he had his hand in anyway. Anyway, those were the rumors at the local cafes.

An occasional dog running around, tearing the hell out of folk’s garbage on Tuesday mornings, some mail box vandalism, and the occasional high school kid running naked across town to join a club they called Mean Nannas—that sort of low level stuff.

Perhaps even an unruly drunk from the local tavern. Smelly could usually corral that. But a major crime? Not likely in the sleepy hamlet. Though most of the main street businesses had long ago gone vacant, there was still a few new ones popping up, but the hustle and bustle of days long gone would never be realized again.

The mall had been a mistake. Everyone moved out of downtown, and now, the mall was almost empty. Main Street died along with the overall spirit of Paltry Station.

Like many of the small towns, Paltry Station was slowly dying economically and turning into a collection of old storefronts and broken streets.

Sitting down to his desk, he straightened out the little nameplate:

John B Smelly-Chief of Police

I haven’t had a chance to start any, was the reply from the office next to the chief’s. I got in a bit late due to the snow. Slipped on the damn sidewalk you were supposed to shovel, John. I might have hurt my leg a bit, but I’ll be OK. I will start a pot.

Mandy Favor had been the police secretary almost as long as Smelly had been chief. Rumor had it that do me a favor had an extra hidden meaning that only Smelly could appreciate.

Boy, that’s Smelly, was bantered around the village saloons and was synonymous with the questionable behavior and goings-on of anything suspect.

Rummaging through the pile of unopened mail that cluttered his desk, he noticed nothing out of the ordinary that would make this day any different than all the others.

Court date notices and a few letters complaining about the cost of the recent squad car purchase. Smelly had purchased a brand new fancy squad car that most of the residents of Paltry Station thought was excessive. It included all the modern radar and communications and lit up like a Christmas tree with the special light package Smelly had installed. Most of the time, you would find Smelly driving it, and the excuse of, I am always on duty was used to silence the complaints of a free vehicle and free gas.

Yes, it was good being chief.

He doesn’t even make many traffic stops! could be heard from most of Paltry Station residents.

To hell with them all! Smelly barked. I’m the chief, and boy, I need that squad!

The old men that comprised the Paltry Station village board were no match for Smelly. Everyone knew if you got in the way of things, well, it was about to get Smelly. He had accumulated enough dirt on the members of the city council to adequately get his way without too much trouble. Meager opposition to anything Smelly did was limited to a few editorials in the local rag or a letter or two, without return address, sent in protest.

Of course you do, Favor replied. Those peasants don’t understand. Bringing a cup of coffee to Smelly, she sat on the edge of the desk and looked lovingly into his eyes.

I understand what you need, she coyly said. Reaching down in an attempt to gently touch his hand, she was taken aback by his slowly moving it away and toward the coffee cup. Smelly gazed up to her and couldn’t help but think how she, like he, had aged over the years.

Has it been that long? Smelly thought.

It had been a few years since the fire had cooled and Favor had put on a few pounds. Smelly no longer saw the source of the many rumors. Just an old and overweight woman who still wanted his attention.

He regretted the past indiscretions he had had with Favor. Although Smelly was married and loved his wife Gladys dearly, it always seemed that the most time he spent awake was with Favor. Being only one of two cops in town, he spent most of his Type A life in the police station. That led to the work wife Favor had become, and things never go well after that.

He recalled the first out of town police conference and the mistake it was to bring Favor along as a learning experience. He knew it was a sexual need filled; however, Favor, like most women, could never just have the physical. It always leads to the inevitable I love you, and things go to hell a minute after that.

Such was the case in the Paltry Station police department.

Favor knew the days of a wink here and a touch there were long gone. She longed for the excitement of it all and, although married herself, loved Smelly and could not deny the fact that she wanted things as they had been. She could sense the despair he had as age engulfed him like a fog and knew if he retired that she would lose him completely.

Radio traffic from the county speaker interrupted the moment.

County-501. Call the SO.

Smelly’s badge number was 501. Paltry Station only had two cops, and the other officer worked nights and only until 3:00 a.m. Smelly feared that the other officer, being young and highly trained, would soon leave him, and the thought of going through the process of hiring another gave him a pain in his stomach. Not a lot of new folks out of college opted for places like Paltry Station. And if they did, only until the county hired them away with better wages and benefits.

County must have something they really need as normally they would simply use the radio, he said. Gulping down the last of the coffee, he dialed the county sheriff’s department.

It’s Smelly here, what’s up?

One moment please, was the reply from county dispatch. I am transferring you to the sheriff.

Smelly? Is that you?

Sheriff Bull Conner didn’t much like Smelly. Not only was he from a different political party, he was of the belief that law enforcement should be the best of the best. Best trained and best educated. Conner was ex-military, with a degree, and knew damn well Smelly wasn’t ex-military and only had a high school education.

The county had stolen many qualified officers over the years, and Smelly suspected they intended to do it again.

Bull Conner had, on many occasions, made it obvious that he felt Smelly should have long ago retired and moved on. Favor knew it as well and hated Conner for it. Bullshit Conner is how Smelly referred to him as.

Smelly had been in law enforcement long before any requirements were needed to be a cop. No sixty minimum college credits back then. They just handed you a badge and a gun and off you went. That stuck in the sheriff’s craw. As long as Smelly remained in Paltry Station, he was grandfathered and could maintain his authority. So Smelly had no plans on leaving anytime soon.

Yes. Sheriff Conner, what can I do for you? His condescending tone magnified the mutual disdain they had for each other.

We have a situation, Conner replied. And I need you to shut the hell up on this one!

As was usually the case, any news or information that would be considered sensitive was usually blurted out over a beer at the local tavern or inadvertently communicated during a careless moment with Favor. But soon, the boredom of Smelly’s world would change, and he would be dragged into a world where he was ill prepared to enter.

I have three squads just west of your city limits, Conner said. I need you to be there in your office when the crime lab shows up. Do you understand?

OK, I understand, Smelly replied. What’s going on?

We have a dead body in the ditch on County Road P, was the reply. We haven’t identified the subject as of yet.

OK, I got it, Smelly said. I will be here waiting for the crime lab then.

Remember what I told you! You shut up on this one. I don’t want you to do a thing. Just be there so the crime lab can stage there! Conner slammed the phone down, and Smelly bristled at the way he was being talked down to.

What’s that all about? Favor asked.

Seeing she was listening to the entire conversation anyway from the next door office. They found a body, in the ditch, off County P, Smelly said. The directive from the sheriff to shut up was long gone from his small-town mind.

A body? Favor replied. Whose?

Don’t know yet. Crime lab will be here this morning so I need to be here.

It was only about twenty minutes later that the gossips of Paltry Station were well on their way of spreading the news. How they got that information, well, was anyone’s guess.

Chapter 2

The snow had accumulated overnight, and it was difficult for responding units to arrive at the ditch location on County P. Pulling his squad over to the side of the gravel road, Chief Deputy Dirk Rhoades radioed, County 602-10-23, out with 601.

The radio cracked back with an immediate 10-4-602.

601-Sheriff Bull Conner could be seen in the ditch surrounded by the three deputies that had first arrived on scene.

Miserable snow! he yelled. Making this way too hard. Can’t someone get a little shelter over here? I’m freezing my rear end off out here! he bellowed.

Sheriff Bull Conner wasn’t a man to mince words. A veteran of the Iraq war, he had little patience for bullshit, and his staff respected him. It was well known that subordinates would march into hell itself to save him.

Not so much with 602. Being chief deputy and second in command, Dirk Rhoades harbored thoughts of running for sheriff himself.

Problem was, both Rhoades and Conner shared the same political affiliation. But the fact remained that Rhoades wanted to be sheriff, and there were always ways to pull that off.

I think it’s time for him to retire, Rhodes thought.

Looking into the now brushed-away snow in the ditch before them lay a semi-frozen body of what appeared to be that of a large female. Fully clothed with no outward signs of violence or anything that would indicate foul play other than…well, she was lying frozen in a ditch off County Road P.

Oh my, that’s the mayor’s wife? blurted Rhodes. The mayor of Paltry Station!

Monica Basdard had been the wife of the mayor of Paltry Station, Matt Basdard, who, in turn, had been mayor for over thirty years. It wasn’t like there was a waiting line to be mayor, and the elections found Basdard running unopposed for most of them.

Basdard had one friend in Paltry Station, and that one friend was Chief John B. Smelly. Both had prospered over the years by covering each other’s assess. The good citizens of Paltry Station knew it, but any remedy was far removed from their power to effect any change. Many a laugh was had over a beer that things in Paltry Station were a bit Smelly and run by that Basdard. Just the way it was.

The Black Suburbans with the tinted windows soon arrived at the police station, and Smelly was waiting for them inside the police station.

Hello, I’m Chief Smelly. He extended his hand toward the first to enter his office.

After an uncomfortable moment with his hand finding no reception, he withdrew it and stood quietly.

I know who you are, Smelly, the crime lab agent barked. I’m Special Agent Parker, and I will need your office. How soon can you be out of it?

Well, I have another I could set you up in, Smelly said. But…

No, we need a bigger space, and this one will do, the agent replied. "I understand Sheriff Conner is on scene?

Yes, I believe I copied radio traffic that he is out there, Smelly said.

We will drop off a few things and head out there. Has information been compromised as of yet? Parker asked.

Of course not, replied Smelly. Looking over at Favor and seeing her disappear quickly into her office, he was not as convinced as he was trying to state.

These arrogant people make me sick, he thought. Smelly always had a problem with the state. Serving warrants in this jurisdiction without notifying him that they were even there. Perhaps that was because someone was always tipping off the intended target of those warrants.

Word was Smelly had some involvement in the area drug traffic or turned his head from it at best. Nothing was ever proven, but in Paltry Station, nothing had to be proven to be true.

Dropping off the crime lab luggage and looking at Smelly, Parker asked, How do we get to P?

Smelly stated, Well, the restroom is on your right. He smiled.

Don’t be a smart guy, Smelly! This is serious stuff going down here.

At that point, Smelly couldn’t have given a damn because he had had about enough abuse from these professional cops as he called them.

Within about fifteen minutes, the crime lab was headed to the scene and, on arrival, took command. Sheriff Conner, Agent Parker. Has identification been made?

Yes, Conner said. I don’t know the manner of death, but we know who she is.

Parker proceeded to the scene, and the county coroner had just made his findings official.

The coroner looked up at Parker, and in typical police gallows humor, using his best impression of a Munchkin, stated, She’s not only merely dead—she’s really most sincerely dead.

Yeah, you’re a funny man, Parker replied. Small towns, they’re all the same, he thought.

It’s a living, the coroner responded as he made his way from the ditch to the warmth of his running vehicle.

The body was pulled from the snow-covered ditch and would now be transported to the state crime lab.

Chief Deputy Rhoades had returned to the sheriff’s office along with any evidence not already confiscated by the state investigation team.

Sheriff Bull Conner assigned a few reserve deputies to maintain scene security until the scene had been completely processed.

The sun was slowing setting and the temperatures were dropping quickly.

The deputies stayed until dark and were finally told to head home. Nothing remained of the day as a light drifting off snow covered what was to be the beginning of a series of events that would choke Paltry Station to its collective knees.

Chapter 3

The next morning, Chief Smelly had just finished his breakfast at the local café when Mayor Basdard came in. Ashen faced, he sat next to the chief and said, Smelly, someone killed my wife.

Smelly turned to Basdard and, in disbelief, said, Matt, that was your wife? The body out by P? I didn’t know. Those guys never told me!

The crime lab had packed up their things during the night, and Smelly had assumed it was an unidentified individual and no one had notified him as to the identity of the victim. Not being in his jurisdiction, he assumed if he needed to know, they would let him know.

I am so sorry, Smelly said.

You don’t know anything about this, John? What the hell man! The paper has been calling me all morning, and I have the state people up my ass on this! They want to interview me. They want me at your station in twenty minutes.

No, I haven’t heard a thing. That miserable Bull Conner and Parker haven’t called or told me a damn thing on this! Smelly was visibly shaken and embarrassed at his lack of information.

Looking up at the TV, the news had just come on with the information on the body found but nothing else. Waiting notification of next of kin was all it said.

Gulping down the remnants of his coffee, Smelly hurried to his squad and headed back to the police station along with Mayor Basdard.

Opening the main door, they saw Mandy Favor standing close to her office door, and to her right stood Parker along with Sheriff Conner.

We need to talk, Matt, Conner stated. Parker stood mute but looked deeply at Basdard, which the mayor immediately did not like.

Why wasn’t I informed of this!? Smelly shouted.

Because it wasn’t in your jurisdiction! screamed Conner.

I am unwilling to give a statement without presence of my attorney, Basdard stated.

Very well then, Conner replied. Contact your attorney and be at the sheriff’s department in two hours.

Conner and Parker then left the police station, leaving Basdard, Chief Smelly, and Favor standing in disbelief at what had just transpired.

Mandy, can you step out for a bit? Smelly asked.

Favor was surprised at this request given her history with Smelly; however, she grabbed her coat and left the office.

I have to know, Matt. Did you have any involvement in this?

Hell no! Basdard yelled. I haven’t seen her in two days.

She was supposed to go to her sisters two days ago, and when I called her sister this morning, she said she never showed up.

Can you prove where you have been at all times since then? Smelly asked.

Well, most of the time, I think.

What do you mean most of the time? Smelly inquired.

John, you know that waitress at the bowling alley? The red head?

For God’s sake, Matt, you aren’t doing that bimbo? Smelly was incredulous; however, given his history with Favor, he somehow understood what was coming next.

"Good grief, John. With the wife at her sister’s…well, John, it just happened. That’s all!

So you can prove you were with her the night before they found Monica’s body? She will corroborate your time?

Are you kidding me, John? There is no way she is going to say a thing! Do you know who her uncle is? John, it’s Bull Conner!

Oh no. What the hell have you gotten yourself into this time? We need to think, Smelly said. "We have a few hours to get your story together. Call your attorney and tell him to