The Drew reaches over and grips your shoulder with a broad grin. "I like it. Carpi. Karen Carpinter. Magic Carpit. Lots of options there. Good choice."
Nodding at the approval you ask, "So what's our first stop? The sister, right?"
The Drew cocks his head. "Not so fast, there, Carpo Marx. We need to background it a little first. Get some dirt before we walk in there selling vacuums, you feel me?"
You shake your head. "No. We aren't selling vacuums, are we?"
The Drew ignores your question and continues. "There's an old fella by the name of Peanuts down here on Timberland Gap Road. Peanuts McGillberry, they call him."
"Does he ... like peanuts?"
The Drew shakes his head. "I don't much think so. Don't think his name is McGillberry, either. But I'll tell you what I do know about the old bastard. He's tuned in to the business of damn near every person in Ruddy Creek." As he tells you the story of Peanuts, the old Toyota rumbles off the main highway and down a half paved road with no street sign. On both sides, pine trees reach up like shadows, blocking clear sight of a few trailers dotted along in the woods. Dust kicks up and creates a country fog all around you, enough so it feels like you've barreled off into some Saturday night b-flick horror movie. "Ol' Peanuts," The Drew continues, "he lost his wife some years back. Ever since then, he's been hunting down the person who killed her. Figures if he stays up on town gossip, he may get a line on the son of a bitch one day."
Peanuts McGilberry lives in a trailer off to the left on Timberland Gap Road, which stretches off into the pine fog farther than you can track it. Before you even get out of the truck, Peanuts is hobbling up with a shotgun and widening an eye to see who's in his make-shift driveway. The Drew waves big and shouts, "Just me, Peanuts. Thought I might ask you a couple of questions about goings on lately."
All around the truck, goats begin to gather. You step into the middle of them, and they nose around your pockets. You look sheepishly to The Drew, who waves it off. "Don't sweat it, Carpi. Peanuts here runs a goat farm. Don't you, Peanuts?"
Peanuts McGilberry narrows his eyes at you and spits out a toothpick. "Carpi?" he shouts. "Carpi was the name of the no good piece of shit who killed my wife!"
Nodding at the approval you ask, "So what's our first stop? The sister, right?"
The Drew cocks his head. "Not so fast, there, Carpo Marx. We need to background it a little first. Get some dirt before we walk in there selling vacuums, you feel me?"
You shake your head. "No. We aren't selling vacuums, are we?"
The Drew ignores your question and continues. "There's an old fella by the name of Peanuts down here on Timberland Gap Road. Peanuts McGillberry, they call him."
"Does he ... like peanuts?"
The Drew shakes his head. "I don't much think so. Don't think his name is McGillberry, either. But I'll tell you what I do know about the old bastard. He's tuned in to the business of damn near every person in Ruddy Creek." As he tells you the story of Peanuts, the old Toyota rumbles off the main highway and down a half paved road with no street sign. On both sides, pine trees reach up like shadows, blocking clear sight of a few trailers dotted along in the woods. Dust kicks up and creates a country fog all around you, enough so it feels like you've barreled off into some Saturday night b-flick horror movie. "Ol' Peanuts," The Drew continues, "he lost his wife some years back. Ever since then, he's been hunting down the person who killed her. Figures if he stays up on town gossip, he may get a line on the son of a bitch one day."
Peanuts McGilberry lives in a trailer off to the left on Timberland Gap Road, which stretches off into the pine fog farther than you can track it. Before you even get out of the truck, Peanuts is hobbling up with a shotgun and widening an eye to see who's in his make-shift driveway. The Drew waves big and shouts, "Just me, Peanuts. Thought I might ask you a couple of questions about goings on lately."
All around the truck, goats begin to gather. You step into the middle of them, and they nose around your pockets. You look sheepishly to The Drew, who waves it off. "Don't sweat it, Carpi. Peanuts here runs a goat farm. Don't you, Peanuts?"
Peanuts McGilberry narrows his eyes at you and spits out a toothpick. "Carpi?" he shouts. "Carpi was the name of the no good piece of shit who killed my wife!"