In Hell: When Love Kills A Small Town Mystery

Chapter 4

Simpson Pike was limping along the side of the road like a man carrying a load of buckshot in the butt of his underwear. Cash spotted him as he topped the hill. He started to blow right by him, but Pike looked so pitiful, you couldn't help but feel sorry for him. Cash slowed the truck to a stop.

"Hey, Simp! You're a far piece from town. Are you sure you're not lost?"

"Nah. I'm not lost."

"Need a lift?" Cash yelled out the opened window.

"Yeah. Sure. Thanks."

"Hop in."

Simp was all smiles when he hoisted himself into the truck's cab. The old man pulled a wad of brown tobacco leaves from his back pocket. He looked Cash's way and offered him some.

"No thanks," Cash said.

"Suit yourself. Your loss, Sonny Boy."

Simp's cheek bulged and for several moments, he chewed contentedly.

"You're understated today, Simp," Cash said. "Aren't you afraid you'll blend in with the scenery? I mean, somebody might hit you walking down the road."

"Huh?"

"Nothing," Cash said. "You on a secret mission of some kind or something?"

Cash wondered if Simpson Pike was colorblind. He wore a bright blue ball cap, slightly sideways on his balding head. One side of his orange-and-green-checkered shirt hung lower than the other. The legs of his purple khaki pants were tucked into a pair of black and red cowboy boots. His round bulbous nose was pink and large. His lips were liver-colored and full. Simp was usually smiling, but not today.

"You bet, Sonny Boy," Simp said.

"I kinda figured that. I mean, you really are miles from home. Peggy Ann's going to be worried. What are you doing way out here?"

"Like you said, Cash. I'm on a mission. And don't you worry about my sister. She's up to her eyeballs in canning and pickling, today. In fact, she told me to scoot my patoot outta her kitchen. So, I'm doing just that. I'm real good at scootin' patooting."

"Oh," said Cash. "Yeah. Nobody is better at patooting, Simp. You got that market cornered."

"I'll say," Simp said. "And that ain't the easiest thing to do."

Simp's close-set eyes strained to bring Cash into focus. Cash tried to concentrate on keeping the truck between the ditches, but after a few minutes, he broke the silence.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "Do I have mustard on my shirt or something?"

Simp continued to stare. His body was tense with concentration. Cash began to worry if the poor man was having a seizure or something.

"You look fit to puke," Simp said. "I mean, I ain't trying to be rude or nothing, but you don't look too good. I mean, you're still as purdy as ever, Cash, but something's off. Your color ain't so hot. I mean, I know it's hotter than blue blazes but your skin ain't pink with heat. I'd say it's more like green like them cans of old sardines that Leddy Lester tried to sell me down at the store. You know that Leddy will try to pawn off anything on me just because he thinks I'm stupid. Can you believe that? But I ain't stupid, Cash. I know what's rot and what's not. Shoot. All you need is a good sniffer to tell you what's what. Boy, you look rough. And you wrinkle your eyes up every time we hit a hole in the road. You got a hammer inside your head or something?"

"Don't worry about me, Simp. Yeah. I got a hammering headache. And don't worry. I'm not gonna puke. I'd let you know if I had to. I'm just a littler tired. That's all. I just partied a little bit too much last night down at Mickey's. Walked right into a door."