Singing Loudly

[Episode 2 - The Body is here]

Deputy Martin Mundle didn't stop running after exiting Simpson's Pharmacy and Hardware (with the napkin still tucked into his shirt collar) until he had reached the Sheriff's office six blocks down from Simpson's on Main Street Avenue, the main street in Rumpus.

Martin Mundle was a big man (6 foot 7 inches, 259 pounds). Only the foolish did not scurry from the path of the juggernaut Martin Mundle - not that he was a man known for cruelty, but he was a notoriously clumsy oaf.

If one were to map the winding routes Martin Mundle walked each day and were to differentiate steps with the right foot in red, steps with the left in blue, and places were he bumped into someone or something in green, the green substance used (e.g., ink, construction paper, pushpins, etc.) would deplete quicker than either the red or blue demarcation medium. On the way to see his daddy, Sheriff Joseph Mundle, he made physical contact with no less than 23 obstacles, (or 25 if you count his stepping on Joseph Mundle's toes twice).

"DAMmit, Marty." Joseph Mundle was the only person since Mama Mundle's passing that gets away with calling him Marty. "Don't step on my frickin' toes. An' pull that frickin' napkin out of yer frickin' collar. Makes you look like a frickin' idiot. Now what in tarnation has gotten you all riled up? An' don't tell me nuthin' about color of Melinda Jorgensen's nails, 'cause you know I don't give a rat's patoot."

"Shucks, Daddy, this has nuthin' to do wi' that. You know that TV reporter, DiDi Stuart? A couple of boys found 'er dead body out by Lock Lake on the Ole Walsh Place."

"Good job, Marty, where the rascals now? ... You done left 'em back at Simpson's, didn't you? Hadn't you ever heard of bringin' somebody in fer questionin'? Well, it's not worth worryin' about now. Let's go have them boys take us on over there. Wait ... did anyone other than you overhear them whipper snappers mention DiDi Stuart?"

"Come to thank of it, Daddy, Samantha Rogers-Flavor was there, too. She even asked them a few thangs about ..."

"Aw, you moron, there's no use lookin' fer the boys over at Simpson's. Don't you know Samantha Flavor is the frickin' star reporter fer The Rumpus Recorder? Sam's prob'ly already get them over at the Lake. Come on, get in the frickin' truck."

By the time Sheriff Mundle and his son Deputy Mundle arrived at the scene, Samantha Rogers-Flavor, the boys who discovered the body (Wally Hogarth, Erik Derrik Brawn III, Mark Sandlewood) and a photographer (Jimmy Flavor, editor of The Recorder) were already there. "Jimmy, didn't you tell yer dammed wife that this sort of thang might be considered meddlin' wi' the scene of a crime? An' that it is an offense punishable by law?"

"I know, Sheriff," Jimmy said, trying to apologize for his wife. "But you know how Sam gets. Once she gets it in her mind that she has a job to do, there is no stopping her."

"Quit, your yappin,' Jimbo," Samantha Rogers-Flavor said. "We have a paper to put out. Get some photos from over here." Mrs. Rogers-Flavor then motioned her husband Mr. Flavor where to stand. Then she turned to Sheriff Mundle. "Don't bother callin' the coroner, Joe. I already phoned Bubba to come 'n' pick up the boys."

Bubba, (as Wally's father Gerald Hogarth Jr., was affectionately known), served double duty as the Glenedin County coroner and the manager of the Hogarth Funeral Home, owned by Erik Derrik Brawn Sr., as were all of the other businesses in Rumpus, (with the exception of the Rumpust Supper Club, which was owned by Marjory "Madge" Harshwood, descendent of Richard Otis Rumpuss, the founder of Rumpus and its most illustrious benefactor).

"By the way, Sheriff," Samantha Rogers-Flavor said. "What is your take on the murder of broadcast journalist DiDi Stuart? Any suspects yet?"

"No comment, Samantha. An' we haven't even confirmed that she was murdered yet."

"Of course, she could have fired the gun at her neck, leaving behind a bullet hole almost two centimeters in diameter, 'n' then hid the gun so that everybody would just think she was murdered. That DiDi really was clever. Do you have any other non-comments?"

"NO, Samantha," the sheriff said, trying to keeping calm. "I have NOT made any conclusions on ANYthang yet as I have NOT EVEN EXAMINED THE SCENE OF THE CRIME. You may be a suspect if I can prove you were tampering wit' evidence. Now would you 'n' your husband PLEASE leave the premises so that I may do MY JOB."

"I see," Samantha Rogers-Flavor mumbled as she hurriedly jotted notes in her spiral. "Sheriff losing effectiveness as officer of the law," and she followed her husband back to their vehicle.

"An' take the children wit' you, Sam," the sheriff scolded. "This is hardly an appropriate envi-r'nment fer boys so young."

Sheriff Mundle then walked over to DiDi Stuart's body and began his survey of the crime scene.