Thread: Investigation 7/7/10 (attn: ST)

The door comes open and a 30 something woman in a moo-moo and curlers opens the door. She has a cigarette dangling out of her aged lips. "Whatever yer sellin' we don't want any."

"How about if I buy something instead? I'd like some information the man of the house may have."

"Shit... what the hell did Skeeter get into now? SKEETER! I swear to god if he's into those black market fireworks again I'm gonna kick his ass. SKEET GET YER FAT LAZY ASS OUT HERE NOW!"

From inside you hear, "SHUT THE HELL UP ETHEL, I'M COMIN!" Skeeter, one of the men you saw at the lake, comes from the back of the trailer, zipping up his pants as he walks up with a beer in his other hand.

"This guy wants to talk to you." Ethel says.

Skeeter narrows his eyes. "Yea, whatcha want?"

"Perhaps we should speak more privately so as to not disturb the household?"

Skeeter steps out onto the 'porch' (which is little more than a stack of cider blocks.) His wife watches from the window as if you can't see her.

"Alright... so, whatcha looking fer?" He says walking down into the beaten down earthen driveway.

"You've been hired to dispose of things for someone. At the lake. I'd like any information you can give me about that. Who hired you? I think I might wanna get in on the deal."

Skeeter looks worried. "You police?" He says nervously.

"Hell no! Do I look it? Jeez. I sure as hell wouldn't be out here askin you anyway, you'd be downtown."

"In that case you can just piss off. They barely pay us enough as it is. I'm not splitting it any further. Go find yourself yer own honey of a deal." Skeeter begins walking back to his door.