The Beanfield Murder - by Josprel (standard:mystery, 8593 words)
Author: Josprel	Added: Aug 03 2006	Views/Reads: 3345/2201	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Cayuga County High Sheriff Loren Kregs investegated many accident in his long career. But this one proved different than the others. It caused butterflies in his belly.

THE BEANFIELD MURDER by Josprel 

Chapter One 

Returning from the 1948 Law Enforcement Conference, Cayuga County High
Sheriff Loren Kregs had barely entered the county seat of Collins, when 
his car's dispatch radio crackled.  Chief Dispatcher Vince Tadber's 
twang was directing Chief Deputy Billy Greenoak to the Sorrel farm. 

Loren doubled back to a narrow, dirt lane that masqueraded as Town Line
Road.  Turning into it, he entered the whirling dust storm that was 
Billy's wake.  As usual, his tall, cadaverous Chief Deputy was 
barreling at floorboard speed, setting his usual bad-driving example to 
Vince Dennet, the young rookie riding with him.  When Loren pulled up, 
both troopers already were bagging the clothes Doc Krastil and his 
assistant, Glen, were carefully stripping from an unconscious old 
farmer lying next to a newly sown beanfield. 

The High Sheriff had investigated numerous accidents during his long
career, but this one spawned fluttering butterflies in his belly.  A 
large, rear wheel of Sorrel's mammoth tractor, follow by the bean 
planter and the sharp harrowing disks it was pulling, had crushed and 
horribly mangled the old man's thighs and lower body. Apparently, the 
unmanned rig subsequently wandered aimlessly, before ultimately wedging 
itself between two lofty white cedar trees.  For now, Loren ignored the 
machine. 

Mrs. Sorrel had braved the horror of finding her husband in gore long
enough to summon assistance.  Shaking violently, she continuously was 
asking what had happened.  Doc passed Dennet a phial of white powder, 
instructing him to escort her to the house and administer the sedative, 
mixed in water. 

"Try to get her to sit down, Vince; she's in shock." 

Dennet nodded. "Will do, Doc." As the tall, barrel-chested rookie
tenderly shepherded his charge through the small grove of imposing 
white cedar trees that served as a wind barrier for the weather-beaten 
house, his attentiveness contrasted sharply with his muscular physic. 

Doc again turned his attention to his patient.   Encircled by
horn-rimmed bifocals, his eyes misted as he worked.  His Old Dutch 
beard quivered; he and Sorrel were close chess buddies. 

Struggling to maintain his professional demeanor, with a gesture of
hopelessness, he responded to the High Sheriff's unspoken question.  In 
a choked voice, he said, "Well, Loren, my old friend won't be playing 
chess with me any more.  He's still alive, but not for long." 

Loren nodded his understanding.  "How long before he's ready for
transport to the hospital" 

"A few minutes," Doc responded.  He glanced at Glen. "I want you with
him on the way to the hospital.   Have him admitted into intensive 
care. Administer plasma and treat him for tetanus.  Inform the resident 
surgeon that I want all his lacerations completely irrigated and 
sutured.  The sheriff and I must check out this accident while the 
clues are still fresh, but I'll be along shortly. Don't leave his side 
until I arrive." 

He turned to Loren. "Glen drove the ambulance here, but now he'll be in
the rear with Sorrel. Can you lend us a driver for the ambulance?" 

"Sure, Doc, Vince will drive it." 

Loren motioned for Vince to get moving, but the deputy was having
problems with Mrs. Sorrel.  Determined to be with her husband, she 
pushed her way from the house, elbowed past Vince and, still mumbling 
her unanswered question, struggled to enter the ambulance. As he noted 
her struggle, Loren's heart went out to the elderly woman.  The Sorrels 
had no kin; if the old man died, she would be alone. Gently, he gently 
guided her away from the vehicle, motioning for it to leave. 

"Please wait with me, Mrs. Sorrel. I'll send for my wife. You know
Verony. You work together on the church council.  Verony's your 


Click here to read the rest of this story (1145 more lines)