Bob Moats - Jim Richards 01-03- 3 for Murder Box Set (8 page)

“Damn, you are a glutton for punishment.” She winked. “You still married?”

“God, no. I divorced about 12 years later after one son. I’m on the loose again, but I don’t move as fast as I used to.” I smiled. “I’ve been single now for about six years and very happy with it. I’m kind of a misogynist nowadays.”

“Damn, are you gay now?” She looked disappointed.

“Oh, hell, no. Nothing against the gays. I just have been burned too many times to get involved with women again. A little gun shy, you might say.” I kind of went blank on that.

“Gun shy? Is your pistol still working?” She had a devil of a smile now.

I really went blank on that, too. I had a feeling this conversation should be done in private.

“Are you trying to embarrass me, or is this part of your talk show ‘Old Men and sex, is there life after the fall,’ or you just want to see me squirm?”

“Jimmy, would I put you on the spot. You have an aura about you that says ‘I’m horny,’ or am I wrong?”

“Again, are you auditioning me for your show? Or is there dinner and a movie in there somewhere?”

“I’m sorry, Jimmy.” She laughed again. “Being honest here, confession time, I had a real serious crush on you back in school. You and your cute little camera, always roaming the halls. But you were so hung up on Dee, rest her soul, and that other girl, what was her name?” She snapped her fingers a few times, I guess to help her remember.

“Sara Lester. I chased her all through high school. I should say, wasted my time chasing her through high school.” I sighed. “I really never seemed to have much luck with women.”

“Only because you didn’t get together with me.” She gave me a cute, coy smile and then turned her attention towards the mirror to get ready for her show.

I sat silently as her people fussed about her, getting her camera-ready. I was speechless with her confession about her crush on me. It seems like we always go after the ones we shouldn’t be with, and the good ones get away. Point in case, Sara Lester is now weighing in around 280 pounds and married to someone else, but I wanted her. The girl who wanted me is now a glamorous, beautiful star of her own TV show. Go figure.

She stood and walked to the bathroom, but turned first to ask if I wanted to help her change into her clothes. She laughed and ran in, not quite closing the door. Yeah, I watched. And she knew it.

She came back out a few minutes later looking all spiffy in her expensive clothes. Maybe if I had married her, I’d be broke by now. She reached down to me and took my hand. Hers was soft and very warm.

“Time to go play savior of the city.” She led me out the door and down the hall. We were followed by the burly, and now surly, cop.

We went through a heavy metal door and into the studio. It was small like on the Bozo set, and the crew was busy adjusting the cameras and lights. The back stage was fairly dark, and the stage hands were milling about on the other end. They all said their “Hi’s” and “Good mornings” to Penny, and she beamed back to them. Some guy I presumed was the floor manager came up to her and gave her a couple of pages of paper. She studied them for a minute then gave them back and told him she was ready.

“Sit here where I can admire you from the stage.” She guided me to a tall stool and let me get comfortable. The cop sat a few feet over from me on another metal folding chair like the one in the hall. I could almost hear him grumbling about that. 

For the next hour I watched the show being created. The guest was a doctor talking about men’s sexual dysfunctions. Oh, great. Penny peeked over to me every time he mentioned sex. I was feeling warm and not from the hot lights overhead. Penny opened the questioning to the audience, “Penny for Your Thoughts” kind of thing. The doctor held up well through the inane questions people were asking. Penny told the doctor that she had a question. “When is a man too old for sex?”

I squirmed as she looked to me. The doctor laughed and said that man is capable of sexual relations no matter what age, even after sixty, as long as he was healthy and could survive the ordeal. The audience chuckled, and Penny laughed as she drew her attention back to the Doctor and away from me.

There were a few more questions, and then the show wound down as they rolled the end credits. After saying her good-byes to the doctor, Penny bounced over to me. Grabbing my hand again, she led me back to her dressing room. She told the burly, surly cop to shoot anyone who even tried to knock on the door. She gave him a big wet one on his cheek. I’ve never seen a cop go so red. She pulled me in and locked the door. Oh, oh.

She swung me around, pinned my back to the wall, and searched for my tonsils with her tongue. Twelve years of being a monk had just shattered into sweet oblivion as we moved from wall to chair to couch and then floor. My heart was pounding out a conga beat, mostly from my lack of exercise, but partly from the moment. Her body was amazingly firm and smooth, not at all like a woman almost sixty. About thirty minutes later, we took a breather.

Penny changed back into her robe as I gathered my wits.

“Were you trying to kill me?” I smiled.

“No, sweetie, just seeing what I may have missed back when we were more flexible in high school.”

“Disappointed?”

“Hell, no. I may make you my fourth husband.” She looked serious then laughed.

“How about a long engagement first?” I pleaded.

“Sounds good. The anticipation is more fun that way.” She went back to the bathroom and came out a few minutes later in her street clothes…silky blouse, short skirt and a big smile.

“Are you still a misogynist now?”

“Well, my opinion about women has been elevated to a new level.” I watched her fussing at her dressing table, straightening out her make-up. Beyond the glamour she was a very handsome woman. I could get used to her. “So, are we a couple now?” I smiled.

“Sure, sweetie, but I’ll need a pre-nup.”

“Well, don’t expect much of my fortune. There is none,” I joked. Her laugh was infectious.

“Well, we made it through the teenage make out session. It’s uphill from here.” She was tying her hair up on her head, just the way I liked women to have their hair up.

“You know, it’s been twelve years since I last kissed a woman,” I confessed.

“Damn, you sure could have fooled me. You must have a great memory.” She looked at me in wonder.

“I do now, and that will go with me to the grave.” I hoped it wouldn’t be too soon.

She picked up an envelope from her dressing table and opened it. She read the paper from the envelope and went pale. A small choke came from her throat, and she looked at me with wide eyes. I grabbed the paper and read.

“
Star light, star bright. Your star is going out tonight. You’re the next classmate to die!
”

*

Chapter Seven

~~*~~

Trapper was insistent about not wanting anyone around Sue Carter, but the old woman was just as adamant about doing her work.

“I have to make a living here, unless you want to fund my lifestyle?” she said angrily.

“Fine, but I’m having my men watch you and your customers just to be sure.” He looked at his officers and told them to check every person who came in. “I’m going to look for Linda Grolich, so stay around the house and be sure no one gets in who shouldn’t be here.” He went out.

One of the sheriff’s men was inside with Sue, so Trapper figured she would be safe. Sue’s business was not booming, so she and the young deputy sat a good while before a car drove up the drive. One of the outside officers stepped up to the vehicle and saw that a very elderly woman was driving. He opened the door for her, and he relaxed as he watched her struggle to get out of the car. She thanked him and struggled up the couple of rickety steps of the porch. The officer rushed around her to open the door as she slowly waddled in. The well-wrinkled, gray haired woman stepped into the salon and saw Sue and the younger officer sitting.

“My goodness, all the police, is it all right to get a little trim on my hair?”

“Sure, ma’am. Come on and sit down. Just ignore the police, they’re here to sell tickets for some policeman thing, but you don’t have to buy anything to have your hair done,” Sue said with a smile.

The woman set her oversized handbag on a chair and toddled to the seat. Sue assisted the woman onto the styling chair and helped straighten her up. The woman thanked Sue and inquired if Sue had a bit of coffee to offer.

Sue paused, looked at the young deputy and asked, “Do you know how to make coffee, officer?”

The young cop replied he did, and Sue instructed him where to find the coffee maker in the kitchen. He dutifully headed into the other room, and Sue picked up the haircloth to cover the woman.

“Just a little off the ends, dear.” The woman smiled as Sue swung the cloth around the woman and fastened it at the neck with a clip.

Sue picked up a comb from the back bar and walked around to the front of the woman, leaning in to get a closer look at the woman’s hair from the front.  Sue looked a little puzzled and asked, “Ma’am, are you wearing a wig?”

The woman smiled and said, “Why, yes, dear, it’s my disguise,” and brought her hand up and across Sue’s throat with the open straight razor she took from her pocket. It was a very good slash. Little blood spurted and was caught by the haircloth as the woman pushed Sue back and down.

The woman pulled the haircloth off, bundled it up with the razor and gracefully stuffed it into her large purse. She pulled a small handgun from an outer pocket of the purse and quietly sprinted to the other room, gun held out.

She came to the tiny kitchen and found the officer standing in front of the coffee maker, humming to himself. The woman didn’t want to fire her weapon so she picked up a small skillet from the stove and whacked the deputy across the back of the head. He went down with little noise as the old woman quickly went to the back door.

She removed a small package from her pocket, took out ten wrapped firecrackers from it, and lit the long end of one with a lighter. She threw the crackers out the back door and ran toward the front, gathering up her bag on the way. She waited for the first cracker to pop, setting off the rest and sounding like a machine gun. She watched through the window as the two outside cops drew weapons and sprinted around back.

She broke through the front door, was in her car and heading out the drive before the police understood the situation. They burst through the back door, guns at front, and found the deputy, down but still alive. They rushed carefully into the salon and found Sue Carter bleeding out on the floor. They called for an ambulance and back up then called Trapper, something they regretted having to do.

After the coroner took the now deceased body of Sue Carter away, Trapper stood in the salon looking frustrated and pissed. The sheriff’s forensic lab people and Trapper’s CSU people were bumping into each other, looking for any trace of the woman they could find. Finally, the sheriff called his men out and told them to let it be and go back to the station leaving Trapper’s men to fend for themselves.

“I don’t believe this! Three big strong cops against one little old lady! Do you know how this looks?” roared Trapper.

Everyone just stood silently, taking in the abuse. That went on for another five minutes before the sheriff quietly called Trapper outside.

“I don’t blame you one bit, losing four women like this, but you got two more out there that you’ll really need to be on your toes about. I’m done here, it’s all yours. I’m going to take my bruised deputy, and head back to fighting crime in the sticks, leaving murder to you big city cops.” He grinned wide and tipped his Smokey the Bear hat as he headed to his car, signaling his deputy to follow.