Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 34, No. 13 & 14, Winter 1989

“Oh, and I thought I’d mention that we don’t have to worry none about that big white cat the neighbors said was yowling early this morning. We found it in the Patricks’ trash can. Somebody’d wrung its neck.”

The captain nodded and turned back toward Allison where she stood by her overstuffed armchair, one hand lightly touching the back for support. Dodie smiled at him from the piecrust table.

“You were about to say...?”

Allison reached to pick a white cat hair off of the chair beside her. “Yes... I was going to say I’ll start on that list you wanted right away. You can send someone over for it in about half an hour. Good morning, captain.”

Head erect, shoulders straight, she shuffled resolutely across the room to close the door behind him.

A Day at the Lake by Ed Poole

Billy Joe was walking down Cedar Lake Road carrying his fishing rod over his shoulder and his tackle and bait in a burlap sack. The spring sun warmed his back through his T-shirt and his brogans made dusty little clouds as he walked down the dirt road. Woods bordered the narrow road so closely that two cars could pass each other only if both drove with their right wheels in the shallow ditches.

Billy Joe was daydreaming about what he would like to do tomorrow to celebrate his eighteenth birthday when he heard a siren in the distance. Daydream was about all he could do because Pa sure wasn’t about to turn loose of any of his money. Ever since Ma died, Pa had been spending his money on hard liquor and the fancy ladies at Lonzo’s Bar and Girl. Actually, it was Lonzo’s Bar and Grill, but everyone called it Lonzo’s Bar and Girl. Mostly just to aggravate Lonzo.

The siren was getting louder. Billy wondered why the sheriff would be coming down Cedar Lake Road with his siren on. The road dead-ended into Cedar Lake. Maybe someone drowned. Yeah, that was probably it. Billy stepped down in the ditch to get out of the way just in the nick of time.

A black BMW came hurtling over a small hill in the road, becoming airborne for an instant before slamming back to earth. As it shot past Billy Joe, someone threw a large brown paper sack out of the passenger side window. The sack ricocheted off a pine tree and fell into a big briar patch.

Before Billy Joe could move, the sheriff came roaring past with his blue lights and siren going. Billy Joe watched until the two cars disappeared over the hill overlooking the lake.

Billy Joe used a long stick to retrieve the sack from the briar patch. It felt pretty heavy. He unrolled the top and opened it. Inside was a large plastic storage bag of white powder. It must’ve weighed close to four pounds. Now Billy Joe knew where the money to celebrate his birthday would come from. In fact, he would probably be able to celebrate quite a few birthdays to come.

Billy Joe took the bag about three hundred yards farther into the woods and shoved it up inside a hollow at the base of a big oak tree. Once one of Billy Joe’s hounds had chased a coon into that hollow. That didn’t sit too well with Billy Joe because the dog was supposed to be trailing a deer Billy Joe had wounded. Billy Joe wedged the bag up in the hollow with pieces of dead limbs that were lying around under the big oak. It was a shame to see such a magnificent tree dying, but whatever was causing the insides of the oak to rot would eventually kill the rest of it.

With visions of visiting one of the fancy ladies at Lonzo’s spinning in his head, Billy Joe took a shortcut through the woods to the lake. When he got there Sheriff Hamilton had his pistol trained on two men who were leaning against the side of the BMW while his deputy, Arthur Monroe, frisked them. One of them was tall and thin with long greasy hair and a pockmarked face. The other one had reddish-blond hair and the build of a fireplug.

“They’re clean, sheriff,” the deputy said as he stepped back from the men.

Sheriff Hamilton swore, and then he noticed Billy Joe. “Come on over here, Billy Joe. I want to talk to you.”

Billy Joe sauntered over while taking another look at the two men. One of them turned his head to look at Billy Joe.

“Boy! You keep that head down like I told you or I’ll tear it off,” screamed Sheriff Hamilton. The man looked down quickly.

“Billy Joe, did you see these guys throw anything out of that car when they came past you?”

“No sir, sheriff. I didn’t see nothing.”

“Hmmm. I was thinking they might have popped over that little hill and thrown something out before they realized you were there. That was the only time they were out of my sight long enough to get rid of anything. Are you sure you didn’t see them throw anything out of that car? Anything at all?” Sheriff Hamilton asked, squinting his eyes and looking down his nose at Billy Joe.

“I’m sure, sheriff. What did they throw out?”

“Never you mind. Get along with your fishing. And I better not find out you lied to me.”