Tex, the Witch Boy by Stuart R. West

Author:Stuart R. West [West, Stuart R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Paranormal; Young Adult; Mystery; Suspense; Thriller; Humor; Coming of Age; Witchcraft; Bullying
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Published: 2022-03-22T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

“What?” I repeated, dumbfounded. Even though I’d heard the words, they made no sense. I stumbled into the living room and collapsed onto the sofa next to Dad. Hands in pockets, Cowlings appeared ready for a casual stroll.

“A couple of hours ago, Bob Bellman’s body was found down by the Missouri River,” said Cowlings as he sat next to me. “The KCMO police received a tip—from Bellman’s own cell phone—there was a body underneath one of the bridges by the river.”

“I can’t believe this is happening.” Unsure how to react or feel, all I managed to muster was a dull incredulity. “How did he die?” But I knew the answer already.

“Beaten and then strangled…just like the Rimmer boy.” Cowlings peered at me inquisitively, hoping for a “tell” in my reaction. I’d never been one with a great poker face.

“Good Lord,” Dad whispered. Clearly, the realization that murder had touched him and his family had taken hold. “Did you catch the killer, Detective Cowlings?”

“No…but apparently we didn’t miss the perpetrator by much.” As he manically scribbled in his ever-present book of clues, I snuck a peek. My underlined name sat atop one of the pages.

“The Kansas City, Missouri Police Department gave me a call after they sent a squad car down to the river and found his body,” he continued. “They saw he was a Clearwell student, and this was the second murdered victim from there.” He glared at me while flapping the notebook against his thigh. I really hated Detective Cowling’s dramatic pauses.

“So…is it the same killer?” I asked. “The same one who killed Matt Rimmer?”

Dad sat in stunned silence.

“It sure looks that way, Tex.” Cowlings picked a piece of lint from his suit pants and studied his finding. “Unless…there are two killers.” I half-expected a dramatic musical zing to take us to a commercial. Alas, no commercial break for me.

“Anyway, I drove down to the crime scene.” Now speaking like a jovial uncle who’s had too much to drink at Christmastime, Cowlings grinned. A scary grin. “A homeless man had phoned in the tip. Apparently, that wasn’t the only thing he did…” Another dramatic pause. I wondered whether he picked up this technique from police training to make suspects nervous, or if social awkwardness caused it. I decided my first guess to be more likely. It certainly made me nervous.

“The homeless man was sitting under the bridge, trying to stay warm by covering himself in old blankets and boxes. He saw a car pull up and a male got out, who then proceeded to open the trunk and drag a large bundle out, dumping it quickly, and then taking off like a bat out of hell.”

“Well…you have a witness, now,” said Dad. “Isn’t this a big break in the case?” Dad looked hopeful, also applying what he and I learned from watching crime shows.

“You would think so,” said Cowlings. “However, the witness was no help at all. He was smashed out of his mind, and the only useful

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