Dance with the Butcher by J. Grant Thompson

Author:J. Grant Thompson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: thriller, crime, suspense, serial killer, detectives, predator, nypd, psychopath, murders, terrorizing
Publisher: J. Grant Thompson

Chapter 11

Stump Rushing and Stringbean Fenney were the least respected members of Sydney Berry’s 108th homicide division. While Ellis and Warren had their lieutenant’s utmost respect, and were definitely considered his A team, Stump and Stringbean had always managed to run afoul of Sydney’s favor, earning themselves very little in the form of recognition in their over ten years with the department.

Rodney “Stump” Rushing was all of five foot-two and weighed in at a squat one hundred and eighty pounds. Since “Fire Hydrant” was far too long, his fellow detectives had settled on “Stump.” He hated the nickname that had followed him for over ten years, heatedly pointing out on several occasions that his name was “Rodney.” The usual response to this would be, “Oh, okay—sorry, Stump.” He would turn red, cuss up a storm and stomp his feet. That was Stump’s main problem—taking himself far too seriously.

Like many diminutive men of history, he voiced his many opinions both loudly and often. This Napoleon complex earned him total disrespect from his peers, most of them amused at his tantrums and diatribes. They thought he was a joke—and that infuriated him.

There was one man, besides Stump himself, who took Stump very seriously. Earl “Stringbean” Fenney, Stump’s partner for over ten years, looked pretty much how one would expect a fellow nicknamed Stringbean to look—six foot-four, one hundred and seventy pounds—he, too, caught hell for his odd appearance.

Much less sensitive than his odd partner, he was considered easygoing and affable enough by his co-workers. Unfortunately, his obvious limited mental capacity was a well-known deterrent to any possible aspirations he might have, making the team of Rushing and Fenney a joke throughout the entire precinct.

Stringbean Fenney had one other peculiar character flaw. He thought that his partner, Rodney Rushing, was the smartest man he had ever met—a fact that Stump Rushing reveled in.

Sydney did not openly ridicule the two men, opting instead to keep them occupied with tasks that trained monkeys could do. Though Stringbean found the work quite challenging, his spark plug of a partner recognized it as just another example of the department shitting on him. He bitched and moaned daily, constantly after Sydney to give him a chance to prove himself. Sydney tap danced around him, always chickening out on assigning anything of real importance to the strange duo. The fact was, he simply thought that Stump and Stringbean were clowns in cops clothing.

Friday morning began for Sydney with a visit from one of the clowns—the short fat one with the big mouth. “Yeah, Rodney, what you need?” Sydney asked as the detective walked in, taking a seat.

“I need to speak with you, sir, if I may,” Stump replied seriously.

Sydney didn’t need this. Not today. “Can you make it quick? I have a shitload of work to do this morning.”

“Yes sir, I’ll get right to the point. Sergeant Fenney and I feel personally slighted by your refusal to allow us to participate in the Butcher case,” he said, a short bundle of indignation.

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