Are you sure?
This action might not be possible to undo. Are you sure you want to continue?
The Bayou Katt Murders
by Ronald Micci
Ratings:
175 pages2 hours
Summary
In this sequel to Coyote Horny, Katt Hall returns to her ancestral Baton Rouge roots to learn that her first husband is killing off her old high school boyfriends one by one, working his way back to his beloved Katt, whom he must possess all for his own. But no single man alone can possess this voluptuous Southern beauty, whose male admirers are legion. As the body count rises, and police attempts prove futile, the Big Katt is forced to take matters into her own hands.
Publisher: PublishdriveReleased: Nov 30, 2013ISBN: Format: book
Book Preview
The Bayou Katt Murders - Ronald Micci
THE BAYOU KATT
MURDERS
by Ronald Micci
Cover design by Blue Monkey Studio at bluemonkeystudio.wix.com/site and Carrie at cheekycovers.com
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright 2012 by Ronald Micci
ONE
Drink up. Ah don’t trust a man who doesn’t enjoy his liquor.
Spud swigged down the tumbler of bourbon in one gulp and ordered another.
In fact,
Josephus told him, I call him a downright faggot. That’s how you can tell them, you know.
They were sitting at the bar -- cool, dark, wood-paneled -- of an exclusive country club deep in the heart of Dixie. Or, to be more specific, Baton Rouge. And Josephus was none other than the father of one Katt Hall, legendary Southern beauty, the same Katt Hall who had married Spud in New Mexico, then brought him east.
The one in the airport men’s room -- I had him pegged for a faggot the minute I saw those beady eyes. The squint, it always gives them away. Faggots won’t look you straight in the eye -- they squint. Go on, drink up.
Spud would drink all right -- and drink, and drink. Josephus had forgotten that booze was Spud’s one and only vice. And right now, Spud was loaded to the gills.
You wonder about the women who marry these faggots. What kind of women are these? And the funny thing is, they propagate. They have kids by these fruit loops. Whatever turns you on, eh?
Spud’s eyes were heavily glazed over.
But I can see you’re not that kind of a man -- welcome to the family.
Josephus slapped Spud on the back. That girl you married, that daughter of mine, is a helluva broad. And if y’all don’t mind my saying so, she likes a good drilling. A woman deserves that from time to time, a good hard drilling that rocks the rafters and shakes the bedpost. I guess you drilled your way into her heart.
I guess I did.
Though, from what I hear, the Pennsylvania Dutch are raised like a bunch of pansies.
Spud wasn’t sure what to say.
Not to imply they’re all faggots, but carrying milk pails and fetching firewood, that’s fruitcake time to me. I guess you grew out of that. What’s the matter, you look a little wiped.
Yeah.
Spud was ready to fall off his stool.
Yes, he was wiped all right, but not as wiped as one Curtis Stephens, whose body had been discovered in the road not far from the posh country club where Spud and his father-in-law were now getting soused. Police flashlights were all over the place. The guy was dead all right. Someone had beaten him up pretty good, then put a slug in his head and dumped him in the road. As a sort of warning. A calling card in the form of a handwritten note had been left in the victim’s breast pocket -- She’s mine, she’s mine, she’s all mine and no one else shall have her. She’s back and she’s mine.
The thing about faggots is, they’re everywhere. What we need is some sort of high-tech detection device that will sniff out faggots before they infest our way of life. Just between the two of us, that first one my daughter married, I had my doubts. I don’t like the idea of my daughter being married to a faggot, but it had crossed my mind. Just couldn’t prove it. He tried to come on big and hard and virile to me, overacted the part. That’s why I started to have my doubts. A man can drink his liquor and tell dirty jokes, but that’s no guarantee that after the lights go down in the bedroom, he won’t roll over and grab a copy of some gay stud magazine and queer himself with a flashlight.
Spud was about ready to pass out, and the bartender noticed it. You better get him outside.
Nonsense. He’s hardly had anything to drink. I hate a man who can’t hold his liquor.
He looks pretty stiff to me.
Josephus nudged Spud, gave him a hard shot with his elbow. Sit up straight, you milk pail faggot, if you want to be a son-in-law of mine.
Spud tried to straighten up, managed to get his elbows on the bar top and steady himself.
Now show me you’re no faggot and knock down that bourbon.
Uh --
Outside on the road not far away, the cops were still shaking their heads in disbelief over a pretty ugly looking corpse.
Bag him,
the chief said. We’ve got ourselves a mauler. They’re the worst kind.
The ‘she’ in the note, chief?
I know.
Blew into town today. The Big Katt’s back.
She’s back, and already we’ve got trouble. Tail her. We’ll have to dig out some old yearbooks. This kook is bound to be in there somewhere.
She was born to raise hell.
The chief glanced at the lifeless and battered corpse being stuffed into the bag. That I can see.
Something else -- she wasn’t alone.
This drew a puzzled look.
She brought someone with her -- hubby No. 2.
God.
Hard on the booze, but Pennsylvania Dutch. I do my homework.
Get up to the Great House. She’s got to know about this. They’ve both got to know. And keep her out of sight. As I recall, you dated her yourself at one time.
Wrong.
Blown opportunity?
Trouble in blonde tresses.
You’re a poetic SOB. Now get a move on. No telling how many John Does in her past are still lurking out there.
In the country club bar, Josephus had managed to keep Spud propped up and was continuing to wax philosophical.
Yessir, queer nation is what I call it. What’s the matter with you, crapping out on me?
Spud had flopped backwards onto the barroom floor. Josephus gazed down at him in dismay. Faggot,
he muttered.
TWO
Earlier in the day, Katt Hall’s battered BMW had swung into the circular drive before the Great House on the Hall plantation. It was imposing still, this mansion, just as she had remembered it, a massive remnant of the antebellum South, with stately white Greek Revival columns and shaded porticos. It backed up on once rich cotton fields, which spread as far as the eye could see. Now, they lay fallow.
Katt and Spud had eaten plenty of road dust on their hurried exit from the high deserts of New Mexico. They’d been careful to take their daily regimen of tea brewed from the herbs the old Indian shaman had given them, herbs that would lift the apparent curse
of the coyote, a curse that turned them into lusting sexual savages. Yes, they had beat it out of there fast and sought refuge in a place more familiar to Katt Hall -- her old childhood home. No more high desert madness for these two -- it would be the rich, deep earth of the South this time. Or so they naively thought.
Yes, they found themselves in a different world, a world of mysterious bayous, of woods and winding country roads, of shanties on one side of town and large mansions with their expansive cotton fields on the other. Yes, they were back in the place that Katt Hall knew best -- the Deep South.
Oh Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, your little baby is home.
Katt threw her arms around Josephus, the gray-haired patriarch of the family, and hugged him with all her might. Even pushing eighty, Josephus’ cheeks had a fresh luster to them, and there was an eager sharpness in his eyes.
Let me look at you, baby. Yes, you’ve grown into a fine specimen of a woman.
It had been twelve years since Katt had been home to see the family. Twelve years and one and a half marriages later. Your mother should be down any minute. And now, let me see the man you’ve brought home to Daddy for breeding purposes.
Uh, Daddy?
Where is this virile beast, the one you call Spud? Already rumors of his masculine prowess are feverishly making the rounds.
Uh, Daddy.
Ah know my little girl wouldn’t bring anyone into this house who was anything less than a powerhouse in the lust department. If I know you, and I surely believe I do, honey, this beau of yours is firing on all cylinders, and comes slickly oiled to boot.
Now Daddy.
Summon him here, honey.
Spud, darling?
Spud entered the room, somewhat diffident in the presence of Josephus, a man’s man. Or perhaps a man’s maniac, madness running somewhat rampant on every which side of the Hall family. This was indeed the great great grandson of another Josephus Hall, the one who had come to the New World and made his fortune in cotton. Yes, this thrice-removed Josephus was somewhat mad, but he did have this going for him -- lucre. Good old filthy lucre. Actually, riches handed down from the days when the fields were busy yielding cotton, and the gins were humming. Now he examined the man his little baby had brought home to him from some high desert wilderness and wondered if this fellow could measure up to the Hall standards. You gonna make my baby fat with offspring?
Uh, well, at our age, well, you know --
Nice four-poster up there in the guest room. Oiled and adjusted for maximum leverage. The Hall women are legendary for their pelvic gyrations, isn’t that right, honey?
Oh Daddy.
I normally sleep with my earplugs in, so you go right ahead and pile-drive your way to heaven. There isn’t a neighbor for miles.
This guy sure doesn’t pull his punches, Spud thought. And he and Katt exchanged looks -- my God, was Daddy expecting them to produce offspring? Was he nuts? They were pushing fifty, and pushing hard.
Old age -- advancing age, that is -- has its privileges. And one such privilege is ever the hope of grandchildren. You’re going to provide those grandchildren, Spud -- you and this passionate girl of mine. First, you’re going to join me for a drink at the club. I love a man who drinks hard and loves hard, and I sense you’re that kind of a man.
Uh, Daddy.
Katt took him aside, murmured in his ear, reminding him that Spud had a slight drinking problem, slight being a euphemism for the fact that he liked to get really, really loaded. Indeed, alcoholic might be a more appropriate term.
Nonsense,
Daddy said. We’ll hit the club later. I like my stuff hard and straight. Hard and straight, my boy, get it? That’s what gets a man across the finish line.
Spud got it all right. His beloved Katt had a wild side, and it was getting clearer and clearer where that came from. He was still trying to get his bearings in this new and different place when Katt’s mother, Adelaide, entered the room.
Oh Katt, baby.
There were hugs and messy kisses and tears. Your mama has worried herself sick about you.
Like hell, Katt thought. You’d like to kick my teeth out, given half the chance. Always battling for Josephus’ attention. And it was always the younger sister that mama had given the most love and attention to.
But then, you always liked to torment your mama. Now who in the world is this bear of a man?
You know who, mama. This is Spud, my second husband.
Welcome to Baton Rouge, Spud. Welcome to the Hall family.
Not quite so welcome, however, back in the present, were the police standing at the door to the Stephens residence, where they were about to become the bearer of bad news to poor Curtis Stephens’ poor, hapless wife.
THREE
It was never an easy chore, telling a woman her husband had been killed. And you always tried to soften the blow. Unfortunately for Curtis Stephens, now in a body bag en route to the medical examiner’s, whoever had set upon him hadn’t used quite the same decorum and had hardly softened his attack.
Yes?
Mrs. Curtis Stephens?
Yes.
May we come in?
Is something wrong?
No, nothing at all -- your husband has been mashed, mauled and plugged in the head, but there’s nothing wrong at all.
Later that evening, in a patrol car, the chief of police and his deputy, having done the dirty deed of informing Mrs. Stephens that her husband would be more
You've reached the end of this preview. Sign up to read more!
Page 1 of 1