Hunting A Spider- Watching Donald Jackson 14

Early and I set up surveillance on Donald Jackson’s residence, the person Doane said was the Buckeye Strangler. The dilapidated wood house, which desperately needed structural repairs and a fresh coat of paint looked like a drug den for Clifford’s unsavory element and it rammed home the point that my uncle could still pull strings from inside the rubber room. “This is ludicrous.” Early grumbled. “We could probably get lice just watching this shithole.” “Oh well, at least we can take a shower afterwards.” I replied, as Donald Jackson walked on the rickety porch looking like death warmed over. “Man, he looks like hell.” Early commented. “He’s lived a hard life.” “Yeah, he’s wasted it away drinking cheap wine and bad drugs.” Early added. “How well do you know him?” “Well enough to keep the hell away from him.” I replied. “Let’s go ask him a few questions.” Early said.

   As we approached the house, Donald Jackson gave us a wary look and then smiled when he recognized me. “Aren’t you Drayton Brookings?” “That’s me, Donald, how’s life been treating you?” “Like shit, but ya can’t complain too much ’cause no one listens anyway.” Wanting to get down to business, Early cut short the pleasantries and began asking questions. “Do you know a Doane Hassey?” Donald gave Early a stunned look and the shook his head, feigning confusion. “No man, never heard of him.” “Judging by the look on your face I’d say you were lying.” Early replied. “Nah, man, I ain’t never heard of no name like that.” “Then why did you look so surprised when I mentioned his name?” “Who are you?” Donald asked. Early flashed his badge and told the scruffy drunk that he could make his life a living hell if he didn’t cooperate. “I ain’t into no shit, man. I’m just an old country boy minding his own business.” “And I’m Mary Fuckin’ Poppins.” Early barked. “Now you come clean about this or I’ll make sure you out on the streets in a few days.” “I don’t know Doane Hassey.” Donald pleaded. “Then how does he know you?” Early pressed. “I don’t know.” Early walked past Donald and into the house. “Hey, you can’t do this.” Donald protested. I followed the bum into his house and found Early looking at a laptop on a cheap table littered with trash. “What do you know about computers, Drayton?” Early asked. “A little, but I know someone who knows a lot.” “Call him, I bet we’ll find all kinds of shit on this thing.” Early said with a wicked smile. “Won’t we Mr. Jackson?”