“Only Sasquatch would do this!” Bimbo said with certainty, nodding his large, bearded head.
“You’ve seen a bigfoot killing before?” Jake had joined the Highway Patrol to help people not kill themselves with their cars. He felt he had been failing. Speed kills. Excessive speed obliterates. This situation looked like a hit and run at excessive speeds. He had been first on scene in too many of these, especially on these backwoods two lane highways.
“Sure! Sure! Seen body parts all over the place.” Bimbo scratched his large stomach. A musty smell was generated by his action. Something came out of his beard too.
“But you’ve never seen a Bigfoot kill anyone?” Jake had seen plenty of body parts all over the place, but it was done by human devices, bombs, fast cars or a fast car and a tree. Once by a train. It was going 90 miles an hour or more. It hit a bus load of people stuck on the tracks, just like in the movies. No hero rescues this time. Body parts as well as bus parts and train parts were all over the place. It had been a bus full of church folks. It’s always church folk. ‘Church folk just shouldn’t travel in buses.’ Jake’s mother had concluded. ‘It is much too dangerous for them.’
“Don’t have to. I know what it would be like.” Bimbo smiled a very odd smile. Jake had seen plenty of odd smiles in his life. Bimbo’s was the oddest.
“How did you find out about this incident? I just got the call. I was just down the hill.” Jake hadn’t learned to ask questions. He just did. No reason not to.
“Found them, it. The situation. I called it in.” Bimbo waved at the pieces.
“You weren’t here when I pulled up.” Jake looked around again just to make certain he didn’t see any other vehicle than his own.
“Yeah, I, am camping over on the other hill.” Bimbo pointed off behind him into the trees.
“Out for your morning constitutional, were you?” Jake took some more pictures of the scene with the department camera. It was old but it worked. All the new departmental stuff went to the forensic guys. All the shows about crime scene investigation had made the CIs celebrities. People love to give stuff to celebrities. Politicians especially.
“What does politics have to do with this?” Bimbo generated his scratch musk again. It was a fly escaping form his beard this time.
“Nothing. Everything. Doesn’t matter.” Jake pointed to the ground in the center of the scattered human parts. There were an uneven number of legs. “Where’s all the blood?” Jake had the cruiser video camera running, so he spoke loudly to get a good recording.
“Bigfoot drinks it. How I know it was Bigfoot.” Bimbo made a circle with his hand.