Death By Rodeo Part VI
My name is Sunny Alexander. And I’m Henry James and we’re writers for Dark Sides of the Truth magazine.
Sunday morning brought with it a squall which blanketed the Houston suburbs and Damen’s house with darkened roiling clouds and sheets of driving rain.
Perfect weather for snuggling beneath the covers and sleeping in. Although only one of us was enjoying that luxury at the moment.
Damen and I were busy in the kitchen when Sunny walked in. She was wearing a sleep mask like a bow tie and one side of her hair was matted flat. She was also wearing the same jeans and blouse she’d worn at 8 Seconds the night before. Sunny shuffled to the kitchen table, sat and cradled her head in her hands.
“Good morning Sis. Lovely day don’t you think?”
“Stop yelling Damen. I’m dying over here.”
“Ah, shoe’s on the other foot now huh?”
“What?”
“Aren’t you just a little ray of sunshine this morning?”
“Bite me Damen.”
“So, here’s your coffee Alexander.”
“Why thank you Henry. How sweet.”
“And here’s breakfast. Eggs fried over easy and bacon, toast slathered with butter. Ought to be a nice gooey mess when you cut them eggs. Just use the toast to sop it all up.”
Sunny stared at the plate, clapped her hand over her mouth then hurried out of the kitchen.
“Maybe it was something you said Henry.”
“Yeah Damen, or something she drank.”
We were clearing everything away when Sunny made her entrance again. This time she’d changed clothes, her hair was pulled back tight into a pony tail and she sported a pair of sunglasses.
“Good morning again princess. Care for a little hair of the dog that bit ya?”
“Bite my ass James. You should have told me those Shiners were that potent.”
“I would have if you would of stayed put long enough. Damn girl you probably danced with every cowboy in the place.”
“Well, I didn’t see you sitting in a corner trying to be a wall flower.”
“No, but I was working the crowd for info.”
“So was I.”
“Oh yeah? I got pictures that say otherwise. Damen take a look at this one.”
“Interesting angle Henry. Is that my sister’s butt?”
“Henry I’m going to kick your ass.”
“With that hangover won’t be anytime soon. Yeah Damen, the rest of her is bent over. This was just outside the bar and she was puking her guts out. What about this one? Like that?”
“Another shot of her butt. I do recognize the car though.”
“Yeah, I think she retched her stomach lining out on that one. I dumped her in the back of her car and drove us home.”
“Oh God. You probably not going to delete those are you?”
“Maybe. Depends on how many times you buy me lunch at Johnson's.”
“Paleeze Henry, don’t talk about food right now. I can’t handle it.”
“Well maybe you can handle this. You know those other two clowns in the arena with Randy Friday night?”
“Old man, you go from food to clowns? Have you no decency?”
“Suck it up buttercup. Anyway, I had a chance to cozy up to them last night. Pretty good pair of guys. David Norris, and Brent Davis. Brent recognized me from Friday night when Damen and I were out there. He kept saying the same thing he told Damen, insisting there was no way Culpepper could have died from that hit.”
“Old news Henry.”
“Not necessarily princess hear me out. I kinda got to thinking…”
“Well there’s a first.”
“You wanna let me finish? Or do I need to fry up some bacon for you?”
“Go on then before my hundredth birthday gets here.”
“So I got to wondering if Culpepper was really the intended victim. Damen remember what Brent Davis said to you about the barrel?”
“Yes, he said they’d all been in that barrel a hundred times before.”
“Right, so his comment made me think Randy’s death could have been coincidental. How could anybody predict which one of them was going to jump in that barrel first?”
“So you think Throckmorton wanted someone to die and he didn’t care who? What would he have to gain if Davis or Norris died instead of Culpepper?”
“Not a damn thing Sunny. And that’s what bothers me about this whole thing. Then David said something I thought was kind of strange. He told me how he, Randy and Brent rehearsed their routines. Then he said whoever caught the eye got the barrel.”
“Whoever caught the eye got the barrel? What the hell does that mean?”
“It means whichever one of them drew the attention of the bull had dubs on the use of the barrel.”
Damen’s phone began to ring.
“It’s Sherry Struthers. Hang on guys. Hey Sherry what’s up? Really? Can I put you on speaker? Hang on just a second. Okay go ahead Sherry.”
“Okay you guys I put a rush on the screens and after finishing the autopsy it all makes sense. Randy’s heart muscles were shredded by a massive heart attack caused by introduction of Batrachotoxin, a neurotoxic steroidal alkaloid. It’s extremely rare and only found in some frogs in certain regions of Colombia.”
“Uh Damen, you want to spell out what your doctor friend just said in layman’s terms?”
“Poison Henry. Randy was poisoned.”
“Doctor Struthers could someone have spiked his food or something he drank before the show?”
“Not likely Mr. James. There was enough of it in Mr. Culpepper’s system to have killed twenty men. With a dosage like that I’m pretty sure it took less than a couple of minutes before he died.”
“So you’re saying it would have taken some kind of delivery system like a dart or arrow or something like that?”
“Exactly Ms. Alexander. The problem is I saw no indications on Randy’s body of any penetration. A dart or an arrow would have made a distinct mark.”
“The palms of his hands.”
“Excuse me Mr. James?”
“Doc didn’t you point out something that looked like puncture marks in the palms of Randy’s hands to Damen?”
“Yes I did. They may be the points of ingestion.”
“Sunny we need to go back to the arena. If I miss my guess someone put a poison delivery system in the barrel those boys were using that night. We need to find it before it disappears.”
READ ON — DEATH BY RODEO PART VII
Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part X, Part XI, Conclusion
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