The Swing of Death…. the fifth installment of The Girl with the Itchy Tigger Finger

Okay dar if you are new to dis here shindig this is the fifth in a series of excerpts of the soon to be released ballbuster of a novel   The Girl with the Itchy Tigger Finger.  So Mr. Blogger youse says, Whats dis all about.  Ja sure think if Wallander characters got all mixed up like in a time blender with ingredients from The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo and this literature smoothie was being served in Minnesota.

The case of the Mad Shanker seems about ready to go loco with the latest plot twist of unimaginable horrors yet to revealed. Oh golly just read the damn blog okay dar?

The Girl with the Itchy Tigger Finger

Published by Pass the Swede, Bro’ Ltd  publishers

Chapter Eight  –  A Sicko Twist of Fate

Lieutenant Krumbkakken come into the Homicide department’s conference room looking harried and drawn.  The Mad Shanker case was already a overwhelming case, but it seemed to be on the verge of spinning totally out of control, like one of dose tops that Leonardo spun in dat movie Inception dare.  She remained standing at the end of the conference table looking over the homicide detectives of Millee Lackey County.  Hertz Ballbrakker sat to her left, looking like a skinny version of Otis Campbell from The Andy Griffin show on a eight week bender.  Next to Hertz was Mucus Morgenson the junior homicide detective starring blankly at his blank notepad on the blankety blank table in front of him.  Across from Hertz was detective Abby-Yank Pigstygen looking worried as she chewed on her pencil like a beaver on crack.  To her right was Oskar Jorgenssen County Medical Examiner who’s facial skin tones were alternating shades of blue and green like he ate some tainted lutfisk and at the opposite end of the table was Tizzabutt Flatliner sitting cross-legged on the table, popping her chewing gum, engrossed in her mobile phone, and wondering to herself if she should go totally shaved or leave a little landing strip.

“Well dars no sense beating around da yaddam bush, dis case is a bugger of Paul Bunyan proportions dare.”  started Krumbkakken, “ so lets get down to business immediately.”  She reached down into the bag she carried in, pulled out the Caribucks six cup coffee take along pack and a party platter of  Dohnut Hut’s Bit O Polyunsaturated Fat Pills. “ So who ordered the Ecuador Dark Roast?,   pass dat to Oskar, tanks.. and the Speedball Espresso with double caffine?… ja Hertz I should have know…. the Jelly Torpedo Bismark?”

After five minutes the beverage and bakery goods were distributed and life seemed to be breathed back into the conference room.  “ Belllllllchhchaaa, whoa excuse me dare , but that’s some damn good coffee and eatings huh?, “  said the nonplussed Lieutenant.   “Ok, Hertz update us on the Tigger interview, if you woods, or should I say if you forrests, oh jeez dat was a hummer and dinger if I may say so.”  chuckled the easily amused Krumbkakken.

“Ah right chief.  I think Tigger will be released tomorrow morning from St. Olaf Healing Hands Hospital and Spa with a mild concussion, due to his slipping on floor in our interview room.  Ahem… ah Mucus you know make a note to maintenance to ease up on the wax dare huh? “

“Wats dis I hear aboot some facial wound?  Youse didn’t get rough with our witness didcha now?  quizzed Krumbkakken.

“No, no… I mean no way Jose.  You know no…no … it was the darnest thing, he slips as he is standing up to leave and bam bing grab yo thing he hits his face on a chair and bangs his head as he fall down.  Goes to show ja, even the best atheletes  can be klutzs at times.”  Hertz laid the fertilizer on thick.   He gazed down at Tizzy and saw her rolling her eyes.  ‘What a hosebag’ he thought, ‘I am covering your Tizzabutt, Miss Flathead’.

Hertz continued  “So I think Tigger is up to his tail in this mess but I don’t see him being the murderer.  Why kill off these women, it only opens up the possibility of bringing down his whole career?  And we don’t have any evidence that he killed them at this point.”

Abby jumped in  “Maybe he got worried that the girls”….she stopped after getting a dough ball splattered on her face from Tizzabutt’s direction, she wiped off her face and  continued but not before shooting a lightning bolt look at Tizzabutt, “ worried that the women would tell about their affairs to the press or try to blackmail him.”

“Ja, I could see if he did it once in a panic but jeez not three times dare….”   Hertz started to counter.

“ Ah four times, Hertz”  said the slightly less off green Oskar.

“ No, I may not be the sharpest hockey puck in da rink dare Oskar, but I do know we got three dead  gerrr .. women.”

“ Sorry Hertz, ….hope I ain’t jumping the shark dare or is it putting the wag before the tail, … wow I suck at clichés,  Oskar struggled to talk without blowing chow,  “ Urp… sorry, but it appears the woman in the ice fish hole was number four.”

“ But she was killed in an entirely different M.O.”

“ I thought so too Hertz… that is until this showed up.”  He pulled out VCR tape and passed to Mucus to put it in their 1998 Toshiba VCR and Eight Track Combo player.

Every eye in the room transfixed on the TV.  Blurry images appeared with the camera shaking horribly, but gradually it become clear it was party and everybody was in swimsuits with very shiny skin.  In the picture was a wading pool with a jello-like liquid and a couple of larger woman wrestling in it,  and the camera turns to a one of the  persons surrounding the pool and it is Abby-Yank laughing and swigging from a Grain Belt bottle and waving to the camera.

“What the crapping horse apples,  Oskar?  That’s from last year’s Curling Club awards banquet…this ain’t funny mister!!”  scowled Abby.

“ Mucus, fast forward a few more seconds, sorry I copied this from the original and I thought the tape was blank,”   Oskar admitted, turning a little red to go with the blue and green look.  The tape started again and it was clear it is their  latest victim, tied and gagged  in a chair, with grim gray plywood walls of the typical ice shack, that blanket Minnesota lakes in the winter, in the background .

“Are you comfy my little tigger tickler?  I hope so, I hate to have you watch this and be uncomfortable.  Heehehehehehe …”  it was an electronic filtered voice off camera.  The camera slowly pans to a 40” Plasma HD TV with a 5 year warranty but probably no long term maintenance program knowing how cheap Minnesotans are, and the blank screen comes alive with the title of The Haney Project and couple of men talking.  The program looks to be just another one of many golf instructional shows, but slowly it dawns on the group that this is no ordinary show.  No this was the season where they try to teach Charles Barkley how to correct is horrendous swing.  “ NO, don’t look away , Bitch … you must suffer and watch it ALL!!!!  Just think what Tigger would do if he had to watch….”,   the electronic voice shouted.  And then… it happened, the program showed the entire backswing of Sir Charles.  Oskar stood up covered his mouth and left the room like his pants were on fire, others in the room gasped or gagged in horror.

The show being played on the ice shack TV had been doctored and it started to loop Barkley’s horrifying swing over and over again.  The panicked screaming of the victim on the video is barely audible, being drowned out by the immediate screams in the conference room.  “Please Mucus turn it off;  in the name of Betty White make it stop!”  pleaded Krumbkakken.

Mucus hit the eject button with a lunge.  Abby hit the lights and every face in the room had turned Grinch-like green.

“ What a sick twisted soft­­-pretzel-with-sea-salt-and-mustard-freak, this psycho is, “  Hertz said with utter disbelief.

“Well I know two tings for shore, one, we got to stop this maniac before he strikes again and two, nobody leaves this room until this last cinnamon bun is eaten”  Lieutenant Krumbkakken sternly warned.

About donnphoto

Photographer, writer, manufacturer's rep. Specialize in fine art, travel and architectural photography. Writing a fictional novel (see Ballbrakker links) and music lyrics. Sell commercial interior building products. Play golf poorly.
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