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b'Episode Notes
On Thanksgiving day something is hungry and loose in a small down and it\'s not content to be the centerpiece of your dinner anymore. Murderous turkey\'s are coming, and you pissed them off!
Turkey Shoot by David O\'Hanlon
Music by Ray Mattis
http://raymattispresents.bandcamp.com
Produced by Daniel Wilder
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Transcription:
The white sheet was a Rorschach test of ruddy blooms across the uneven surface. Sheriff Eldon Hart dabbed VapoRub on his upper lip as he entered the makeshift morgue of Rhoda Baines\\u2019 office. It was little more than a meat locker built along the back wall of Country Smiles Dentistry. The tiny township of Fiddler\\u2019s Gap rarely needed a morgue\\u2014and nestled in the Ozark Mountains, they didn\\u2019t call on a dentist much either. Still, between her dental practice and double-duty as county corner, Rhoda\\u2019s office stayed busy enough.\\xa0
Deputy Alex Hargrove was new to area. Despite eight years in law enforcement, this was his first corpse and he slathered the VapoRub on his lip into a greasy mustache. Rhoda waved him off when he offered her the jar and she chuckled softly. The sound was somewhere between melodious playfulness and a braying mule and it brought a smile to the stone face of Sheriff Hart.\\xa0
Rhoda snapped on a pair of nitrile gloves and passed the box to the cops who did the same. Hart flipped on the articulated examination light. He nodded to Rhoda who pulled the sheet back like a lounge-act magician clearing a tablecloth from beneath the guests\\u2019 glasses.\\xa0
\\u201cWhoo!\\u201d Deputy Hargrove leaned away. \\u201cThat\\u2019s not what I was expecting.\\u201d
\\xa0\\u201cNope,\\u201d Hart added, simply.\\xa0
The body was largely held together by the remains of his clothing. The face consisted of a few patches of flesh too stubborn to come off. The eyes were gone, along with the lips which left the tobacco-and-blood-stained teeth grinning around a maw occupied only by the stumpy remains of the victim\\u2019s tongue. The spine was a stretch of ashen desert between ravaged muscles with the soft tissue of the throat completely absent. Hart walked along the length of the steel table as he continued his observations.\\xa0
Holes, ranging from pencil-width to fist-sized, dotted the torso and the flannel shirt was in tatters around the wounds. The connective tissue of the left arm had been torn away, leaving the appendage in the sleeve, but no longer attached to the body. The gut was hollowed like a jack-o-lantern. The shredded blue jeans held much of the same. Hart poked his finger into a hole in the man\\u2019s thigh and then examined the bare tibia below.
\\u201cOkay, so what are we looking at here?\\u201d he finally asked.
\\u201cDead Caucasian male in his thirties. No ID, but he does have a tattoo on his forearm\\u2026 the part that wasn\\u2019t ate, that is.\\u201d Rhoda used a sponge to clean the torso. \\u201cFoxy found our victim about five this morning and brought him to me. I\\u2019ve left him alone, but I did a cursory examination.\\u201d
\\u201cHell, Foxy shakes like a tweaker in an earthquake. How\\u2019d the old fart bring\\u2026\\u201d Hargrove waved his hand at the body, \\u201cthis, without it falling apart?\\u201d
\\u201cCarefully.\\u201d Rhoda shrugged.\\xa0
\\u201cAlright, but what was an old hermit doing out in the woods that early?\\u201d the deputy asked.
\\u201cFoxy hunts turkeys for family\\u2019s that can\\u2019t afford one for Thanksgiving,\\u201d Hart answered. \\u201cThe Fox family\\u2019s done it since the Great Depression. Foxy doesn\\u2019t like people, but he cares about them.\\u201d He prodded another hole. \\u201cWhat\\u2019d you mean by the part that wasn\\u2019t ate?\\u201d
\\u201cThe soft tissue was destroyed\\u2014throat, crook of the arm, belly, eyes. The intestines are missing large portions and some organs are gone in their entirety.\\u201d Rhoda took a gauge and measured a puncture wound for their benefit. \\u201cThese are peck marks.\\u201d
\\u201cWell, shit. I\\u2019ll go put out the APB right away.\\u201d Hargrove clapped his hands together. \\u201cBig ass bird, red thing on his head, answers to Woody.\\u201d
Hart smirked and then cleared his throat. \\u201cScavengers dig in through the soft spots. Could be vultures found him.\\u201d
\\u201cThat was my first thought.\\u201d Rhoda rolled the man on his side and raised his shirt. More peck marks and long cuts adorned the flesh. \\u201cThere\\u2019s no lividity, however.\\u201d\\xa0
\\u201cMeaning?\\u201d Hart scratched at his stubble, suddenly wishing he\\u2019d stopped to make himself presentable before coming to see Rhoda. He snapped his fingers best the gloves would allow. \\u201cShit! He bled out.\\u201d
Rhoda bit her lip and smiled. \\u201cPrecisely. He was either very recently dead or\\u2026 nevermind, that\\u2019s ridiculous.\\u201d
\\u201cMaybe not,\\u201d Hargrove said, catching up with Rhoda\\u2019s line of thought. \\u201cMaybe he fell and knocked himself out cold. Might\\u2019ve been in a coma or something and they thought he was dead.\\u201d
\\u201cPerhaps.\\u201d Rhoda watched the young deputy for a moment. \\u201cPretty good theory, regardless.\\u201d
\\u201cWe need Foxy to take us where he found him.\\u201d Hart leaned in to examine the cuts. \\u201cThis is a murder until we prove otherwise.\\u201d

Benoit \\u2018Foxy\\u2019 Foxworth III leaned on the tailgate of Chevy C100 with his pipe clenched between his teeth. The truck was four different colors and two shades of rust, putting it at odds with the palatial home beyond. The Foxworths made their money in copper mining and then reinvested in oil which ensured Foxy could live comfortably for twenty lifetimes. Still, he never liked people enough to bother impressing them, so he only kept the truck running at best.
The octogenarian sharpened the thin-bladed knife meticulously while he watched the battered Dodge Durango crunch up the gravel drive. Foxy kept the trees clear so he could welcome any guests with a warning shot should they come up uninvited. Foxy set the whetstone down and sheathed the blade before going to meet the officers.
\\u201cI ain\\u2019t kill him,\\u201d Foxy said before the window was down all the way.
\\u201cI didn\\u2019t reckon you did.\\u201d Hart put the SUV in park and turned his hands over thoughtfully. \\u201cNow if he\\u2019d been shot, that would be different.\\u201d
\\u201cWell he weren\\u2019t.\\u201d Foxy stared at the sheriff before sighing and opening the backdoor of the Durango. \\u201cIf we\\u2019re going back out there, you\\u2019re taking me to get some groceries on the way back. I forgot bread.\\u201d
\\u201cI think we can manage that.\\u201d
The ride along the old highway took them by Caroline Marvell\\u2019s Dine Inn motel and eatery, which counted as the area\\u2019s fine dining. The girl was barely twenty and inherited the establishment after her parents were murdered. She didn\\u2019t know much about business, but Hart made sure she turned a profit\\u2014any petty offense would be overlooked if you went straight to the Dine Inn and tipped very generously.\\xa0
Caroline waved from the front door as she finished setting up the sandwich board advertising the annual community Thanksgiving dinner that evening. The locals started the tradition when the mines dried up in the last days of the nineteenth century and kept it alive ever since. Hart even made a trip to nearby Marshall to pick up rolls and canned cranberry sauce. It didn\\u2019t seem like much of a contribution compared to the work others put in, but no one was hungry enough to eat the Sheriff\\u2019s cooking\\u2014including him. The general store\\u2019s freezer section provided the meals he didn\\u2019t get at the diner.\\xa0
\\u201cYou been to the Dine Inn yet, Alex?\\u201d Hart asked.
\\u201cIt\\u2019s on my list of things to do, sir.\\u201d Hargrove stared out the window at valley just beyond the flimsy guardrail. \\u201cYou really think it was birds?\\u201d
\\u201cWeird shit happens out here.\\u201d Hart slowed for the turn on the old logging road. \\u201cFoxy, we going to be able to reach this spot?\\u201d
\\u201cMostly.\\u201d Foxy puffed the sweet, rich smoke between the officers. \\u201cGame trail is pretty clear but she\\u2019s going to be bumpy. We\\u2019ll have to go across the holler on foot though and then it\\u2019s about a mile as the crow flies.\\u201d
\\u201cWhy\\u2019d you go all that way to shoot a turkey?\\u201d Hargrove asked.
\\u201cEver hunted turkey, boy?\\u201d Foxy squinted at the deputy.\\xa0
Hargrove turned in his seat. \\u201cNo. I used to hunt deer back home, but we don\\u2019t get a lot of turkeys.\\u201d
\\u201cThey\\u2019re elusive,\\u201d Foxy grunted. \\u201cThe valley we\\u2019re going to has natural borders that aren\\u2019t worth the effort to most hunters\\u2014human and otherwise. When I was a kid, we called the valley Turkey Shoot, because there were so many of them critters about. Then came the \\u2018quake of \\u201953. Weren\\u2019t no easy way out there after that. No one hunts Turkey Shoot no more.\\u201d\\xa0
\\u201cSo, what made you take the trip, Foxy?\\u201d Hart teeth clacked together as the tire dropped into a pothole.
\\u201cBeen hearing the gobblers out there for a bit. They\\u2019re getting loud like there\\u2019s too many of them, so I went to check and found a path.\\u201d Foxy scratched his chin. \\u201cWhen they opened the dam a few months back, it must have moved some stuff. Left a pass straight to Big Creek.\\u201d
Hart turned onto the trail. They bounced in their seats until the tires found Foxy\\u2019s ruts and settled in for a marginally smoother ride. Hargrove braced himself against the dashboard and shook his head while they banged down the path.
\\u201cThis is more than bumpy.\\u201d Hargrove\\u2019s head thumped against the window. \\u201cAre we there yet?\\u201d
\\u201c\\u2019Bout another twenty minutes,\\u201d Foxy laughed.

Foxy had a great sense of time. Twenty-one minutes later, they got out of the SUV, put on their coats and grab some water bottles.
\\u201cIs that,\\u201d Hart pointed at the metallic backpack, \\u201cwhat I think it is?\\u201d
\\u201cOh, damn. Umm, I forgot to tell you about that,\\u201d Hargrove said. \\u201cYou sent me to Searcy County to buy their old gear last week. Remember?\\u201d
\\u201cI don\\u2019t remember a flamethrower being on the list.\\u201d Hart scowled.
\\u201cThey used to burn weed crops with it and I thought it might be useful.\\u201d Hargrove shrugged. \\u201cBesides, it was only fifty-bucks.\\u201d\\xa0
\\u201cA flamethrower is never going to be useful.\\u201d Hart shut the hatch and shook his head. \\u201cMaybe next time you can find a bazooka.\\u201d
Hargrove\\u2019s smile beamed. \\u201cI think they have two over in Pulaski. Want me to call them?\\u201d
Hart pinched the br'