The Hearse You Came in On

Free The Hearse You Came in On by Tim Cockey

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Authors: Tim Cockey
Tags: Mystery
no-nonsense hard-nosed type, a solid law-and-order man. That’s about all I knew. Now I knew that Joel Hutchinson was going to be coordinating his campaign for governor. He’d either win by a landslide or explode in a scandal. Hutch was no middle-grounder, and my bet was that his candidate wasn’t either.
    “Look,” Hutch said, “we’ll have to get together sometime. Though to be honest, I don’t know when. This campaign will be sucking me under, I’m sure.”
    “Maybe I’ll come in and lick some envelopes for you,” I said.
    Hutch laughed. “I might take you up on that.” He double-pumped my arm. “By the way. What are you doing here anyway?”
    “Oh. Nothing.” I told him in briefest form that I had recently had some contact with a fellow who had been found murdered in his home this morning. You know, that sort of thing. Hutch nodded thoughtfully.
    “That wouldn’t be Guy Fellows, would it?”
    “Well, yes. It would be him exactly. How did you know that?”
    “Just a guess. I was inside just now and I caught some of the talk. It’s my job to be nosy. Tennis guy right? Mr. Joe Stud?”
    “That’s the one.”
    “And so what’s your connection again?”
    “None really. I mean, I didn’t know him. He showed for a funeral yesterday. We had a little argument. The guy was a hothead. Anyway, the police wanted to hear my version of it. Fellows wasn’t talking. Obviously.”
    Hutch completely missed my joke. He pulled an electronic thingy from his coat pocket and flipped itopen. I prepared to be beamed up, but it didn’t happen. “Look, Hitch. Are you free tomorrow? I’d really love to catch up.” He poked a few tiny keys and pursed his lips as he scanned his thingy. “How about ten-thirty?”
    I had no thingy to consult so I rubbed my chin. “Fine.”
    “You’re free?”
    “If no one dies, yes.”
    He gave me a queer look, then got it. “I get it. You’re a regular Bob Hope. So look, do you know Sammy’s? Little coffee shop, just north of the courthouse?”
    “I’m sure I can find it.”
    “Meet me there at ten-thirty. We can catch up some more. Then I’ll take you to a bona fide political rally. Do you think you can stand the excitement?”
    “I’ll get to bed early.”
    Hutch slammed me on the shoulder. “Tomorrow then.”
    “Tomorrow.” I slammed him back.
    Hutch headed off down the sidewalk. As he moved, he pulled a little black phone from his pocket and flipped it open. Hutch was all up-to-date, that’s for sure. He was well into a conversation by the time he had crossed the street and vanished around the corner.
    So I had two appointments for tomorrow. Sammy’s and the big blue Matisse.
    I wondered for a moment if I should pop back into the police station and ask Detective Kruk if they had chosen a funeral home to handle the arrangements for Guy Fellows. But I decided that might look to be in poor taste.

CHAPTER 9
     
    T rouble was brewing in
Our Town.
It was coming in the form of a triangle, that most time-honored chestnut of romantic bliss and woe. In this case, however, the thing was twisting into something more closely resembling a rhombus.
    It should come as no surprise that my ex-wife was in the middle of it. Young Michael Goldfarb, the nice Jewish boy who was playing George Gibbs, was smitten. Michael had been in several Gypsy productions already. Anyone familiar with Michael’s earnest but hopelessly wooden acting style could have spotted the depth of his infatuation immediately upon observing his first read-through of the play’s soda fountain scene. The soda fountain scene is the falling-in-love scene and Michael Goldfarb aced it. Or at least he oozed it. Julia sat center stage in Pocahontas braids, her elbows on a sawhorse representing the soda fountain counter, sucking air through a straw while Michael Goldfarb melted all over her. Julia had steadfastly refused to make eye contact with the smitten boy, which only served to stoke his fires. The more

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