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dead father’s name; we can refer to them as the Lickshill family and skirt the privacy issue by not calling them out individually. Right, Bob?” Porter said.
    “I suppose. News is news; you can’t keep this stuff out of the papers. Beside the State Police will have it in their reports so the word will get out anyway.”
     

Chapter 7
     
    F riday, after work, three over-worked men decided to gather at Jack Hermanski’s new house in the exclusive Cambridge subdivision in the Troy suburb north of Detroit. His wife, Mandi, along with Rusty, the family dog, visited her mother’s home in the thumb area near Saginaw for Thanksgiving, while the men hunted. She was due home late evening.
    “Are you sure Mandi won’t mind? Why not get the deer professionally dressed and save us the work,” Lacarter said, making one last plea. “I’d rather just drink beer.”
    “I agree with Dillon; let’s just cut out a few steaks and take the rest of the animal over to Fred’s Meat Market. He knows how to make good-tasting jerky, too,” Montagno said.
    “C’mon, George, it’ll be a blast. I have a sink and some tools in the basement. Mandi won’t mind.” Hermanski said, turning off Livernois Road into the subdivision. As he approached his brick-sided two-story house, he clicked the remote, opening the garage door. A deer carcass hung from the rafters. Its front legs stuffed behind the eight-point rack, strung with rope. The outside temperature stayed 45 degrees keeping the animal in a refrigerated state.
    The three men exited the Hummer and walked toward the deer. Hermanski carried two packs of beer; Montagno and Lacarter carried a change of clothes.
    ~ ~ ~
    “Watch it. Careful, don’t smear the walls,” Hermanski said, as the three men struggled to get the carcass through the garage-access door and down the basement stairwell. Hermanski led the team by guiding the hind legs. Montagno bolstered the mid-section with his right shoulder, while Lacarter lifted the front legs tied to the antlers.
    “Wow, it’s a lot heavier than I thought. Maybe we should lay it down on the stairs and slide it down,” Montagno suggested, as he wrestled to keep the dead animal steady. “God damn, I’m getting bloody goop on my shirt. Whatever you do, don’t let go, or I’m wearing this thing.” He pushed up on the stomach cavity, causing it to partially open next to his half-cocked head.
    Hermanski turned to look at Montagno and missed the last step.
    “Oh shit, my leg’s going out,” he said, stooping to regain balance.
    “Noooo, I can’t hold it.” Lacarter pulled helplessly on the front legs.
    Montagno banged the left stairwell wall trying to avoid the evitable. The open midsection shifted over his head.
    “Not…good!” he shouted. The stomach cavity surrounded his head and shoulders. Hermanski twisted sideways avoiding the deer with Montagno attached. The front legs slipped out of Lacarter's hands. Montagno, literally wearing the deer, crashed onto the last stair step.
    “ Mumfager. Geticoffame. Helphmeph, ” Montagno mumbled. He sat on the last stair step, waving his hands in the air. The deer’s hindquarters drooped over his head.
    Hermanski limped into a standing position and grabbed the deer’s hind legs. Lacarter repositioned his hands on the deer’s antlers. Together, they heaved the carcass off Montagno’s head and let it drop next to him.
    “I’m so sorry, George,” Hermanski said, reacting to the sight.
    Montagno revealed a sticky dark-red slime covering his hair and face.
    “It tastes salty. Fuck, it’s up my nose and in my ears.” He wiped goop from his eyes and mouth and took a deep breath.
    Hermanski handed him a towel.
    “Sorry, man. I couldn’t hold it any longer,” Lacarter apologized, sitting on the stairs.
    “Hee, hee,” Montagno snickered. “Hah, hah, hah,” he convulsed into a belly laugh, as he stroked the towel across his face and hair. “I need a beer, hee, hee. We’ve got ourselves