Jason goes to Canada

The rare murder

The morning ritual had begun in the Ferguson household over an hour ago, but 14 year old Jesse Ferguson was just now making his way down the stairs sleepily.
His old ma looked him over feet to hair, pursing her lips.
"It's aboot time Jess. The bus runs in ten minutes. Sit doon and have an egg."
He sat beside his dad, Officer Ray Ferguson, currently deep in the local paper. He moved his coffee without looking up.
His Ma placed a plate in front of him, his egg still bubbling from the pan.
"Sheesh Jess, if you're gonna take so long getting ready you could at least brush your hair."
"I did." he grumbled.
She frowned at the wayward spikes and cowlicks of his thick brown hair.
His father spoke.
"It's the new style, Elizabeth. You spend a lot of time and gel making sure you always look like you just woke up."
He elbowed Jess playfully.
"Well I hate it. How is he ever supposed to find a decent girl looking like a derelict?"
Jesse munched his eggs, ignoring her.
"Dad?"
"Yuh, Jess?"
"Can I uh..borrow the truck tonight?"
His dad finally looked up from his newspaper, looking at him intently but not without amusement.
"Hot date eh?"
Jesse squirmed.
"No, Dad. John wanted help programming his new PC, remember?"
"John Simpson, the chubby kid with all the acne?"
"That's mean, Ray."
"Yeah Dad. I asked you aboot it Saturday."
He sipped his coffee, contemplating.
"Eh, must've slipped my brain. When ya get home and knock out whatever homework you got, I don't see why not."
Elizabeth cleared her throat to protest, but the crunch of snowtires from the big yellow bus pulling up denied her.
Jesse jumped up, giving them both a quick smooch.
"Thanks Dad. Gotta Go!"
They both watched him dash out the door, all gusto and hormones, shaking their heads in wonderment.
The big bus pulled away, it's dozens of lights flickering in the cold morning air.
"About that truck.." she continued, this time interrupted by the house phone ringing.
"Grrr.." she said. Ray laughed, and picked up. His smile faded quickly into a grimace, then a deep frown.
"Uh huh. Yeah. Where? Jesus....his head? Uh huh. Okay. I'll be doon in a bit."
He finished his coffee in a big gulp.
"Welllll?" Elizabeth asked.
"We got a body, of all mornings to have a body."
"Oh dear. Someone get lost in the snow again?"
Ray put on his big parka, pulling up the twin zippers.
"Nah. This one looks like foul play, they say."
"Foul..."
"Homicide."
"My God. Murder? Out here?"
Ray recognized her tone as building toward hysterical in that hennish way of hers. He wondered if he should've told her at all. Elizabeth Renee Ferguson was a world-class fretter.
"Maybe. This is just what the deputies are telling me. They could be confused, ya know."
But she would not be placated so easily. In fact, it took Ray thirty more minutes just to leave the house, fending off her objections like an expert swordsman.
As he pulled away in the truck, he saw her lingering by the kitchen window, her face as long as a melting candle.

A light snow was just beginning to fall.

He arrived at the stables, a few of his men already outside fussing with their saddles.
He parked, wordlessly walking into the stable to collect his own steed.
Magnus, his big mount, was already stirring in his pen, sensing the activity.
"Hoo, fella. It's okay. We're going for a walk, big boy."
Magnus pawed at the soft earth, his big muscles quivering. Ray took some time brushing him and soothing him, then led him out to meet the others.

"Cold morning, eh boss?"
Harold, his main deputy, grinned at him with his big overbite and witchy eyes.
"No colder than any other Harold." he answered. But Ray wondered if that was true.
He hooked one foot in the stirrup, and slung one leg over Magnus with the cautious ease of an older man. Magnus dipped a bit for him, out of pity.
The rest of the men waited for him to get settled, their faces pinched and uneasy.
Somewhere, out in those woods, was a murdered man.
And with a murder, there was usually a killer.
Who might also be out in those woods.
He knackered to Magnus, and he led them all in a slow line into the forest.