EQMM 2007-11 by Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine

Author:Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine [Magazine, Ellery Queen’s Mystery]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

STRANGE DAYS by David A. Knadler

(c)2007 by David A. Knadler

Four years ago, in November of 2003, David Knadler got his start as a fiction writer in our Department of First Stories. Born and raised in Montana, where this series starring cop John Ennis is set, he made his career as a newspaperman before settling down to create fictional characters and plots. He has worked for the Philadelphia Inquirer, the Kansas City Star, and the Missoulian.

Loincloth, black loafers, and a foot-long Bowie knife: It wasn’t a great look for an out-of-shape man in his sixties, especially one whose torso had not seen the sun since the Carter administration.

Mel Jordan seemed in the grasp of some strange emotion, probably not embarrassment. On the picnic table, he held the knife high as he balanced tenuously on one leg, eyes closed and face turned toward the patrol-car spotlight. He was humming something. From the pose, Deputy Sheriff John Ennis took it to be a tribal chant of some sort. He stepped closer and recognized the tune: “I Am Woman.”

Beside him, Kevin Heibein held a Taser at the ready, his mouth agape. “I don’t believe this,” the young cop said.

“Drop the knife and get down from there, Mel,” Ennis called. “We need to talk.”

Jordan let out a howl, followed by a couple of yips. It wasn’t a bad imitation of a coyote. He began to prance around on the table, misjudged the location of the far edge, and tumbled headlong into the grass. The knife fell clear. Ennis rushed forward and kicked it away. Jordan cursed and flailed as they cuffed him and wrestled him into the back of the Crown Vic. Along the way, the loincloth came undone. The onlookers from the bar across the street began to applaud. Except for one. Ennis noticed a short guy in a Seattle Seahawks jersey, wearing what looked like a blond muskrat pelt on his head: He was peering at the back of a digital camera.

Back at the town hall, Heibein was clearly shaken by the incident. “The guy got me my job,” he said. “Four, five years ago. I never pictured him in a loincloth. Shit, you think you know somebody.”

Ennis had to agree, the behavior was uncharacteristic for a small-town mayor. Especially one running for reelection.

“Phencyclidine,” the doctor pronounced. “And more than a trace.”

“PCP?” Ennis had considered the possibility, but was still surprised. “Are you sure?”

“I’m afraid so. Angel dust. Ozone.” He clasped his hands behind his head and leaned back in the chair. “We’d see it at the Vegas clinic. Wack, hog, sherms. Some call it elephant. Rocket fuel, killer weed, crystal supergrass…”

Ennis held up a hand. “I get it. So what, was he smoking it? Can you tell?”

“Some evidence of THC, so probably. But there are a variety of ways to get it into your system. Orally. Transdermal absorption. Even eyedrops.”

Ennis rubbed his chin. “His wife says he’s completely drug-free.”

The doctor smiled. “Not completely, it seems.”

“What about accidental exposure? Any way he could

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