Full Moon Farce (Part 1 of 3)
A Sean Houston Mystery
Content Warning: animal death
The morning dew made traversing the muddy field difficult. The sun was slowly burning away the fog and cloud cover, dappling the farm on the outskirts of Plunkett. Sheep made soft baaing sounds in the distance. Sean Houston slipped for a second, swore, then chewed his lip. The person who hired him, Gerald Buchanan, was a stock image of a farmer. Gerald had gray stubble, sun baked skin that seemed almost leathery, and strong blue eyes that conveyed some sort of farm wisdom.
“Not a mornin’ person, huh?”
“Not really, my work tends to keep me up late.” Sean peered around, taking in the scene of the small farmhouse by the gravel road, the long fence encompassing the property, and the modest blue barn they strode towards. “Actually, I love being awake at seven am on a muddy farm.” Sean sneezed, his allergies flaring up as the herd dogs sprinted past, tossing dander in the air. Gerald grunted.
“Yup, it’s often pretty muddy till the sun’s up fer a bit. Early is when Rufus and Copper love running around. When they ain’t herdin’, that is. Why the other day they was runnin’ through the house and Mrs. Buchanan, that’s the wife, threw her hand towel and cried ‘Ger- she calls me Ger for short -ifn’ you don’t get these beasts outta my home-’ then she looked at me with her pretty green eyes and said-”
Sean waved a hand to cut Gerald off. “Sorry Mr. Buchanan, but I have a full caseload and need to be purposeful with my time.” Sean blew his nose into a fast food napkin he drew from his coat pocket. “Got a handful of clients at the moment. I’m lucky I was able to squeeze you in at all.”
That was a lie; this was the only paying job Sean had for the past month. His savings were getting dire and nothing supernatural was happening. Standard P.I. work didn’t pay much in a small town like Plunkett. Sean made his real money investigating the weird stuff. Which Gerald claimed it was when he called. But the mundane nature of everything was making Sean want to leave as soon as possible so he could buy some allergy medication and fall back asleep.
“Well, I understand, I know you city folk like to keep busy. Workin’ a farm keeps me plenty busy, I stay out of trouble that’s for sure.” Gerald chuckled as they arrived at the barn. Sean spotted the broken lock stuck in the mud by the door immediately. As he leaned in to see what damage was done Sean sneezed again.
Sean squinted his bleary eyes and noticed deep, ragged gouges in the wood door. Sean picked up the lock, a heavy iron, and felt the tumblers inside roll around uselessly. The lock was almost forcefully picked by something large and sharp. “And no one else has a key?” Sean glanced at Gerald. The farmer shook his head back and forth in the negative.
“Nope, jus’ me. Dang Bigfoot yanked the lock right off the door and ran off with a couple sheep. Had a snack here too.” Gerald pushed the barn door open. It swung with a low groan, slowly revealing a grisly scene of a sheep, torn open and left to bleed out quickly. The wide puddle of blood had congealed, leaving a brown stain with something marked in it.
Sean sniffed, rubbed his eyes, and stepped into the scene. His eyes were dry and puffy, making him wonder where the dogs were. The sound of an older woman calling out made Sean’s shoulders twitch in a quick reaction. The men turned to see Dolores Buchanan, a gray haired woman wearing a salmon blouse and jeans faded with time.
“Gerald, don’t forget Pat’s comin’ over ta help with that sheep!” Gerald replied in the affirmative. Dolores Buchanan walked over to Sean, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you so much for lookin’ into this. You’re a good person, helping my Ger out like this.” Sean noticed how green her eyes were. Her husband had not exaggerated. Sean also felt his sinuses expanding in his skull and he nodded, rubbing his eyes.
“Of course, ma’am. Just ahem- just doing my job." Excuse me.” Sean stepped away to blow his nose, the pressure becoming unbearable for a moment. Dolores spoke with Gerald in a hushed tone. Due Sean tried but failed to hear what exactly was said. Gerald replied a bit louder than normal.
“Sure thing Sweetie. Just lettin’ Mr. Houston do his work.” Dolores nodded before calling the dogs over to walk with her to the house. Sean sniffed and turned back to the crime scene.
The dead sheep had its throat ripped out in what looked like a single bite, the blood now dry but having pooled on the dusty, straw strwen barn floor. There was a large four toed foot print facing away from the sheep towards the barn door. As Sean squatted to investigate the footprint Gerald spoke up again.
“Yeah, I read about Bigfoot wandering around and getting people pregnant. That’s where taller people come from. Must have gotten hungry from all that love makin’ and the like.”
Sean coughed. “I doubt that.” After a final survey of the scene Sean pulled out a notebook. “I’ll have to charge my usual rates plus an up-charge for the call outside my normal working hours, a supernatural beast charge-” Sean sneezed, dropping his notepad in a patch of still wet mud. He gingerly picked it up and cleaned it as best he could. “And I’ll need to charge for allergy medication.”
Sean noticed a tuft of brown fur stuck to the notebook. He made a mental note and placed it in his coat pocket. Gerald cleared his throat.
“Well it’s mighty kind of ya to help out, Mr. Houston. Since it’s just me and the missus, it’s tough ta get work done when anything goes wrong.”
“Yeah.” Sean rubbed his eyes, then attempted to wipe away the mud he accidentally pressed into his face. “I understand that all to well.”
-To be continued in Part 2-