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he entered.
I m no goddamn errand boy, the young man grum
bled, striking out at one of the shelves with a flat palm, en
joying how the assorted items suffocating within their clear
plastic bags tottered back and forth. Pausing to investigate
a folded towel spotted with what appeared to be dried
blood, Pittman perked up. Hey, maybe I got lucky getting
202 J. B. Stanley
sent down here. This place is loaded with cool crap. He
fingered a small bag containing a thick gold chain and a
diamond-encrusted pendant shaped like a dollar sign.
Gang bullshit, Pittman said dismissively, and then his
eye was drawn by the gleam of metal.
Hell-o, my pretty. Pittman picked up a bag containing
a serrated boot knife. Alongside the boot knife was another
bag holding a trio of butterfly knives, blades neatly tucked
away out of sight. Pitman couldn t help but wonder if there
was any blood on the hidden blades.
Pittman loved knives. He collected them, and he had
even converted the spare room in his two-bedroom apart
ment into a display space for his treasures. The longest
wall was covered with an incredible variety of knives, and
the young cop had artfully arranged them into a arc, so
when the lights were turned on, the wall glimmered and
shone like some kind of deadly rainbow. He smiled just
thinking of his precious Civil War bayonets, German dag
gers from World War II, the large grouping of Swiss Army
knives, vintage Chinese throwing knives, aggressive-
looking machetes, Bowie knives, switchblades, and hunting
knives in worn leather cases.
Visualizing his knife room, Pittman was also reminded
that he needed to stop at the pet store on the way home to
pick up more rats or even a baby rabbit for the Boston
Strangler, his red-tailed boa. In addition to B.S., as Pittman
lovingly referred to his forty-pound pet, he might buy a
small garter snake as a special treat for Magnus, his beau
tiful king snake. Magnus was Pittman s special favorite
and he often took the reptile out of his tank so that the
red-, black-, and yellow-banded constrictor would wrap
himself around Pittman s shoulders as the unusual young
man watched TV.
Pittman had forgotten all about his task. He was told to
collect a kitchen chopping knife that had been used in a fa
tal stabbing more than ten years ago. The knife was believed
A Deadly Dealer 203
to also be the weapon used on a decomposed body recently
uncovered in the wooded area of one of the county parks.
Pittman meandered down the rows of silent evidence and
thought about his job. He was excited to be involved in a
real case of murder, even if the victim had been dead for
half as long as Pittman had been alive. Up to this point in
his new career he had only been appointed menial and in
sulting jobs like dealing with car wrecks or responding to
domestic violence complaints, which usually turned out to
be a couple of drunks screaming at each other in the park
ing lot of their apartment building. Boring stuff. A bunch of
idiot civilians. Pittman wanted to draw his gun, use his club
on some deserving lowlife. Why else would he have become
a cop?
Pittman looked at his watch and paused, as always, to
admire the rattlesnake tattoo poised to strike from the hairy
flesh of his muscular forearm. It was almost lunchtime.
Heading down the row that matched the numbers on his
card, Pittman came to an abrupt halt before a long, slim ob
ject with a carved cobra s head. A vague memory tickled
Pittman s brain.
No way. It s the Killer Cane! Pittman breathed rever
ently as he gently removed the cane from the shelf and cra
dled it in his arms. I member you from the paper.
Looking around, Pittman paused and then removed the
cane from its taped bag using the small folding knife he
carried at all times.
Releasing the snake cane from its plastic prison,
Pittman traced the fangs with his finger and felt an over
whelming desire to possess the famous antique. He stared
into the cobra s sightless white eyes and hesitated, filled
with indecision. The snake seemed to whisper to him: Take
me, take me. Pittman stared at it in awe, recalling exactly
how the weapon cane operated from the detailed descrip
tion and large photographs published in the Tennessean
after Dennis Frazier s murder trial. After some searching,
204 J. B. Stanley
he located the release buttons and jumped in startled de
light as the thin and lethal blade burst from within the cav
ity of wood.
Without further thought, Pittman rewrapped the cane,
grabbed the kitchen knife he had been sent for, and headed
back to the hallway. Desperate to avoid being caught steal
ing evidence, he stashed the cane behind a grouping of
mops and brooms in the nearest maintenance closet. He
would return for the weapon cane later and hide it inside
his trench coat until it was safe to take it to his car. He
would risk his job and much, much more to add the weapon
to his collection. Such an amazing piece was not meant to
sit on a cold, metal shelf. It was meant to be admired by
someone who understood its beauty. Pittman already longed
to release the blade again, to run his hands over the wooden
scales and touch the menacing fangs.
Shaking off the feeling of longing, Pittman closed the
snake into the dark closet. As he eased the door shut, a bar
of light from the hallway found the snake s head and ig
nited its white eyes. For an insane instant, Pittman could
have sworn the cobra winked at him.
A Brief Note on Gadget Canes
Ù
Ù Ù
anes and walking sticks have been around since the
Cbeginning of man s history, and they are as varied in
form and usage as the woods from which they were made.
The staff was used by shepherds before it gradually be
came of symbol of authority. Hundreds of years ago the
staff appeared in the Bible and represented might, espe
cially in Aaron s triumph over Pharaoh s magicians. In an
cient art, staffs, and crooks were painted or sculpted into
the hands of gods of ancient Egypt and Greece. Eventually,
this sign of strength and power was adopted by human
rulers, such as kings and emperors, and also by high-ranking
members of the priesthood. Important individuals of the
armed forces and of the legal system (such as judges) carried
batons or staffs as symbols of their clout as well.
For centuries, the cane was restricted to its role as shep
herder, crutch, or staff of authority, but during the latter
part of the sixteenth century and well into the seventeenth,
walking sticks were carried by the nobility as a sign of
206 J. B. Stanley
wealth and prestige. Canes and sticks became a fashion ac
cessory that no self-respecting gentleman would do with
out. During this period, walking sticks became more and
more decorative and were custom made according to an in
dividual s wishes. Jewels, ivory, gold knobs, porcelain fig
ures in recline, monogrammed initials in sterling silver, or
even a carving of the owner s beloved bulldog distin
guished one stick from another.
Unhappily for the upper class, the rise of the middle
class in the nineteenth century allowed a much larger por
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