After Wilson had gone, Holmes turned to me and asked. "Well, Bubba, what do you think?"

"Beats me. His neck don't really look all that red, to tell you the truth."

"You know," said Holmes, "The more peculiar it looks on the outside, the less mysterious it really is on the inside."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I'd had just about enough thinkin' for one day.

"It means I can't waste no time on this one."

"So what you gonna do?" I asked.

"Get out the Redman," He answered. "This here's a three-plug problem, so don't bother me for the next hour or so."

Holmes reclined all the way back in his LazyBoy, the triple chaw of Redman puffin' his cheek out like a chipmunk's. He closed his eyes and appeared to be sleepin', except he wasn't makin' diesel truck sounds. I'd pretty near nodded off myself, when he suddenly shot up out of his chair like a toad on a hotplate, opened the door, and spat the chaw into the neighbor's begonias.

"Buddy 'Sackbritches' Smith is playin' fiddle down at the Moose Lodge this afternoon," he remarked real casual-like. "You wanna go?"

"Sure," I replied. I didn't have nothin' better to do, and Buddy plays a mean "Orange Blossom Special."

"Then grab your cap and let's go. I hear that Buddy's brought along his cousin, Dwayne 'Oscar' Myers and the Polka Generation. It's contemplatin' music, and my bellybutton's callin' collect!"

We drove along the bayou 'til we got to Cypress Creek. We parked at the public boat ramp and crossed the road so we could survey the scene that Jay Dubya had told us about earlier in the day.

There was pink aluminum siding on every shop, home and doghouse as far as the eye could see. Azalea bushes popped up along the sidewalk, and the rich smell of frying pork wafted heavily through the air.

At the corner of "Walk" and "Don't Walk" was a particularly ratty looking shop. Three smiling neon earthworms wrapped around each other and did a funny little dance over a block-lettered sign that said "Wilson's Bait 'N Stuff." Holmes stopped in front of the place with his head cocked to one side like a beagle on a scent. His eyes went all squinty and he walked along the gutter for a while, turned around and headed back, all the while lookin' closely at the shops. Finally, he stopped in front of Jay Dubya's place again, and, after stompin' his foot several times on the sidewalk, opened the door.

A right smart lookin' little feller came up from the basement at the sound of the bell. He greeted us with a wide smile and a handful of red wigglers. "Come on in. Say hello to the boys!"

"Thanks kindly, but we're not in the market for any bait today. We were just wonderin' what's the best time of day for catchin' stumpknockers," Holmes said in his best fishin' voice.

"This time of year, it's best to start at about six in the morning, They're biting good on midnight specials. Use a cane pole."

"Thank you kindly," Holmes said with a tip of his cap as we left the shop.

The feller smiled at us and shut the door.

"Bright young man," Holmes remarked as we walked away. "Not the smartest crook in the county, but in the top three or four. And he knows his stumpknockers, too."

"You already know all that about stumpknockers," I said. "Oh, I get it. You wanted to get a look at this half-price bait digger, I suppose."

"Not his face so much," Holmes answered. "His knees."

"Oh? And were you impressed?"

"I saw what I thought I'd see."

"And, while we're on the subject of weird stuff you do, why'd you stomp on the sidewalk back there?"

"There's some real bad folks 'round these parts, Bubba. We know a little bit about stumpknockers; now let's check out what's on dry land."

We looked all around, seein' what little there was worth lookin' at along the street. It was a lot like a trailer park without the wheels, as far as I could tell, but that wasn't good enough for Hamhock Holmes.

"Lemme see," he said, looking around. "I need to remember the order of the buildings here. It's a hobby of mine to know the location of every public restroom in town. Now if I recall correctly, there's the Redman Outlet Store, Donna Jo's Topless Lending Library..."

"A topless lending library?"

"Well, sure. Why do you think they call it a strip mall?" He elbowed me in the ribs. "Now help me out here, Bubba. I seem to have drawn a blank."

We took a few steps toward the next building, and I stopped as cold as yesterday's blue plate special. Comin' out the open door were the unmistakable strains of a Hammond organ playin' "Jump Start Me Jesus, My Battery's Fulla Sin."

"I know this place," I said, and only had to look once at the sign. "It's the Freeway to Heaven Teleministry and Fruitcake Company."

"Hmph," said Holmes. "Never could tolerate them T.V. preachers. These stingy boogers ain't even got a public restroom. Ask 'em if you can use the facilities, and they hand you a collection plate."

"And next door," I continued, before he decided to elaborate any more, "is the Happy Weenie Hot Dog Stand. Then there's Earl's Used Car Lot and Line-Dancing Studio. That takes us into the next block."

"Well, Bubba," Holmes said, practically dragging me down the street, "Let's trade in the Happy Weenie for Dwayne 'Oscar' Myers. I say we head off to polka land, where all is beer and bratwurst, and there are no red-necked worm wranglers to mess with our heads."

All afternoon, Holmes sat on a plastic folding chair, dreamily suckin' on a beer and pickin' pork rind crumbs out of his teeth. Dwayne's "Pulled Pork Polka" bounced off the walls of the Moose Lodge and thumped across the dance floor. Holmes was a happy man.

Now, Holmes ain't your average beer-drinking mystery solver. As I watched him listening to the music, I could almost smell the rubber burnin', he was thinkin' so hard. When my buddy's face gets all relaxed like he's been on the receiving end of a tranquilizer dart, it usually means he's getting himself ready to face something really dangerous.

After the last polka was polkaed, Holmes turned to me and said, "I don't suppose you've got other stuff to do tonight, do you, Bubba?"

I said, "I've been meanin' to get the oil changed in the Buick for about two years."

Holmes nodded. "This bait business is going to open up a real can of worms."

"What do you mean by that?"

"There's big crime afoot, or more likely, underfoot. I got a feelin' that we're gonna be just in time to keep the criminals from criminating. If your wife wouldn't mind, I'd sure appreciate your help later on tonight."

"Of course," I replied. It was Saturday. Elva-Marie would be watchin' her Babies 'N Beauty Pageants marathon, and I'd just as soon not be around for that. "When?"

"About ten o'clock. And Bubba - bring along your shotgun and a handful of shells."