Sintown Chronicles II: Through Bedroom Windows (22 page)

Sandra handed Greta a tissue and she blew her nose.

“Eddie happened to be passing the alley about that time. The little restaurant he was working at was just around the corner. He heard the commotion and saw the men running away. He found me, pushed the man off me and said he was dead. He wiped my fingerprints off the brick and carried me to his apartment. Eddie said I had two choices. I could go to jail for murder or I could become his sex slave."

“But it was self-defense,” Tim said.

“Eddie said I couldn't prove it and he said the military lawyers would be after my ass."

“By not turning you in, Eddie is an accessory to the crime,” Sandra said.

“I don't understand."

“It means he is in about as much trouble with the law as you are."

“I don't know about that. Please don't fire me. Let things go back to the way they were."

Tim looked at Sandra and she nodded. “Would you be interested in a different solution to the problem?” he asked.

Greta nodded.

“If you are willing to come live with us and be a full-time, round the clock housekeeper, we'll provide you with the same salary plus food, lodging and clothing."

“How would that help?"

“He's not through yet,” Sandra said.

“Greta, I like your body, as you know, and Sandra likes your body too,” Tim said. We are suggesting that the three of us have a close, personal relationship, if you know what I mean. We'll be good to you and you will be much better off than you are now."

“How can I explain that to Eddie?"

“Perhaps,” Sandra offered, “you can tell Eddie that we know about that night in the alley. If necessary we will defend you in court and see to it that he goes to jail for not reporting the crime and for white slavery."

Greta reached for the tissues and again blew her nose. “What's white slavery?"

Tim coughed. “I'm not sure what the legal term is, Greta, but it is a serious felony to kidnap someone and force them into servitude. That, in essence, is what Eddie has done with you."

“I don't know what to do,” she said. “If I do come to live with you, could we do some things in bed that I like?"

Sandra laughed, breaking the tension. “Like what?” she asked.

“This is going to sound dumb, but sometimes Eddie brings home sex tapes he plays on the VCR. I like those things and I picture myself as one of the women in the tapes. They all seem to be having so much fun."

“You want to watch a tape of you having sex with one of us?” Tim asked.

She nodded and grinned. “Too kinky, huh?"

“I don't see why we couldn't do that if we make damn sure the tapes are erased after we've watched them,” Sandra answered as she winked at Tim.

“Could I ask one more favor?” Greta said. “Could you give me a few days to think about all this?"

Tim again received a nod from Sandra. “One week,” he replied solemnly.

“Leora, I offer you my most humble apologies,” Borders said as he entered their bedroom.

Leora completed the sentence she was typing on the keyboard and turned to him.

“Would you look at this?” he said as he spread photographs on the bed. “Pete ran the composites like you asked. When you fatten Baxter's face up and add the beard, he does, indeed, look like Eddie Crow. Just for good measure Pete took your Polaroid of Crow, slimmed down the face and removed the beard. The result is the same—Crow looks like Preacher Baxter."

“I hate to say I told you so."

Borders hugged his wife and laughed. “No you don't. You love to rub it in when you are right."

“When have I ever been wrong?” she asked innocently.

“While I was there I ran a trace on Baxter.” Borders pulled a computer printout from his briefcase. “He literally dropped from sight when he left Dot. There is no data on him after Dot, even in the Social Security files."

“What was his life like before coming to Dot?"

“Unexceptional,” Borders replied. “He was born in Winston-Salem, graduated from Reynolds High School, went to Carson-Newman College and from there to Southeastern Theological Seminary. The job as pastor of the Dot Baptist Church was his first as a minister. As far as the record shows, he was never in any trouble with the law. Once while working at a convenience store in Raleigh during his Seminary days, he was physically assaulted during a robbery. That's about it."

“Did you by any chance run a check on Eddie Crow?"

“Of course I did, you pretty little lady. He seems to have come into existence about the same time Baxter disappeared. He worked for three years in a small diner in Fayetteville, moved to Charlotte for a few months and then showed up in Dot."

“They're one and the same, just like I told you Borders."

“There's one way to prove it, Leora. Baxter was fingerprinted when he applied for the convenience store job—something to do with a bond. If we can get Crow's fingerprints, we can compare them."

“It's still just a curiosity. Even if Baxter is Crow,” Leora said, “it doesn't tell us anything."

“That's what I told you Sunday, but I've been thinking. Bobby Elliott was a member of the Dot church while Baxter was pastor. He didn't marry Adele until after Baxter disappeared, but still, if Crow is Baxter we have two circumstantial pieces of evidence against him. He knew Elliott in his previous life and he owns a high powered rifle. Damn it all, I wish we could find that other bullet."

“Bobby Elliott was a good friend of the Dollars as well as their employee. I still think Sandy knows more than she's telling, but unless I change my mind I will honor your request and not question her again."

Borders kissed her on the forehead and chuckled. “Go ahead and change your mind. I haven't mentioned one little detail yet. The group that robbed the convenience store and beat up Baxter was the Van Fans."

“The gang that Sandra once belonged to?"

Baxter nodded as the telephone on Leora's desk began to ring. She answered it and, after a moment, said, “It's for you, Borders—Tim Dollar."

“Hello, Tim. How are you?"

“Great. I hope you are."

“Never felt better,” Borders said. “What can I do for you?"

“I heard the other day that you have gone into the private detective business, looking for the killer of Bobby Elliott."

“That's right, Tim. I'm after your $100,000 reward as well as justice. Do you have some additional information?"

“No, but I was wondering if you could take on another case?"

“Depends on what it is."

“I don't want to make too much out of it, but I need to know if a soldier, or any other young man for that matter, was killed by a blow to the head in an alley in Fayetteville approximately three to four years ago."

“That shouldn't be too hard to track down. What else?"

“That's it. I'm trying to check out a, uh, potential employee's story."

“I hate to take your money for such an easy assignment, Tim."

“But you will, I'm sure."

Borders laughed and said, “Damn right I will. I'm finding it difficult to play golf at your expensive courses on the little pension I receive."

“Get your clothes off, bitch,” Eddie said as Greta came through the front door.

Eddie's eyes were bloodshot and his speech was slightly slurred. Greta knew he had been drinking heavily and she started stripping immediately. “I didn't see Sewana's car outside."

“Fuck her. Who needs her?” he said as he pushed down his pants. He sat in the recliner. “Come give me a ride,” he demanded.

She straddled the arms of the chair and grimaced as his penis pushed through her unlubricated labia.

“Said she changed her mind. Shit. She said you are ugly and didn't turn her on."

Greta pulled his hands to her breasts.

“I don't think you are ugly, baby. I don't know what I ever saw in that black slut in the first place."

She felt his penis begin to shrink. Too much beer, she thought. “Squeeze ’em harder, honey. Hurt me a little."

“Yeah? Like this? You like a little pain, don't you bitch?"

“Oh, yeah, Eddie. A little pain is good.” She felt his penis harden and knew she was on the right track. She needed to finish him off quickly and she began to pump as rapidly as her cramped position would allow.

“You love sliding up and down on old Eddie's pole, don't you bitch?"

“Oh yeah, baby. Drive it in me. Open your mouth, baby. I have something for you.” She shot her tongue deep into his mouth and moved it like a jackhammer.

He moaned and she felt his semen jetting into her. She collapsed against him and hugged his head to her breasts. “Oh, honey. I was so horny. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you."

Eddie laughed and reached for his beer. “Tim didn't slip it to you today?"

“No. Eddie, something happened today. It's not all bad, but it's not all good either."

“Get off of me, bitch. You're leaking."

Greta managed to get to the floor without staining the chair. She pulled a handful of tissues from the box on the coffee table and placed them strategically. She knelt before him and fondled his scrotum. “You want me to clean you up with my mouth?"

“I want you to tell me what happened."

“Somehow Sandy and Tim found out they were both having sex with me."

“Shit,” he said.

“Wait. That's not the bad part. They want to make it a threesome."

“Damn perverts,” he said sarcastically.

“I told them I was all for it. I asked if they would do something I liked—make videos to watch later. They agreed."

“All right, Greta. You're a dumb bitch, but sometimes you come through for old Eddie. You set the trap and they walked right into it."

“Yeah,” she said with a big smile on her face. He was proud of her and she liked it. There'll be no belt on my bottom tonight, she thought.

“What's the bad news?"

“They want me to move in with them. They want me available night and day. They saw the bruises on my ass the other day and know that you beat me sometimes. They said they'd treat me real nice."

“What did you tell them?"

“I asked them to let me think about it a few days. I didn't know what to say."

“If Black Beauty hadn't walked out it would be okay. I'm going to have to give this some thought. Maybe, if you are gone, she'll move back in. Man, she has a tight little pussy."

“What happened, honey? Why did she leave? She seemed okay this morning."

“The damned bitch tricked me,” he fumed. “You told her about the room. I caught her snooping and was about to beat the shit out of her when she came up with this cock and bull story about how she wanted to torture you in the room. Hell, I fell for it. The cunt gave me a blowjob and when we were back upstairs she got my rifle and threatened to kill me if I tried to stop her. The damn bitch even made me pack her car for her. I'll get even one day, you mark my words. I'll get even."

I spend all day making the Dollars’ yard a showplace and never get a chance to work on mine, Maggie thought as she drove the lawnmower into the shed behind her rented house. She picked up an empty bushel basket and headed for the flower garden next to the front porch on either side of the steps.

She shook her head as she looked at the weed-infested area. I'll bet it was lovely once, she thought. Poor things don't have a chance to grow with all these weeds. She bent from the waist, tightening the jeans against her buttocks and started pulling the weeds and tossing them into the basket. She worked quickly and sweat began to soak her flannel shirt.

She looked around. Hell, she thought, can't anybody see me except the Dollars, and they would need binoculars. She pulled off her gloves and removed the shirt. She loosened the sports bra just a little and went back to work. She came to a clump of weeds that would not yield to her efforts. She worked around it until the entire garden was weed free—except for that one stubborn clump.

She picked up the now full basket and dumped it into a wire cage in the back yard. After the weeds dry out, she promised herself, I'll burn the rascals. She put the basket back in the shed and started to leave, but then she saw a rusty spade. She sighed. It's not dark yet. I may as well finish the job.

It required more effort that she expected, but finally the roots gave way. The clump of roots was as large as a basketball. She shook it repeatedly, causing the dirt in the roots to fall back to the ground. Several small pebbles fell with the dirt. She set the ball of weeds aside and picked up the rocks. She didn't want those in her flower garden. However, one of the rocks didn't feel quite right. It looked like lead. She stuck it in the side pocket of her jeans and continued her work with visions of healthy, flowering plants dancing in her head.

“Mrs. Dollar, I just can't do it,” Greta said. “Eddie was so pitiful last night when I told him you offered to let me live with you. He begged me not to move out. He said he would never be mean to me again.” Greta reached for the dishtowel and Sandra poured a cup of coffee.

“I see,” Sandra said. “He has beaten you repeatedly, but you believe him when he says he won't do it anymore."

“You don't understand. Eddie's the best when he wants to be, and I do owe him. After the thing I told you about, he took me in and looked after me until I was back on my feet. He got me a job as a waitress. He ... he didn't get mean until we moved to Dot. I want to believe him. I need to believe him."

“You may have the rest of the day off to look for another job if you like,” Sandra said. “If you go around town babbling about Tim and me having sex with you, nobody will believe you.” Sandra pushed her body against Greta's back, forcing the housekeeper against the edge of the kitchen sink. “I was just getting to the point where I could enjoy these,” she said as she briefly caressed Greta's breasts.

“Please don't fire me,” Greta said as she managed to turn around and press her body tightly against Sandra's. “I ain't gonna tell nobody. Why would I tell? Eddie would be furious."

Sandra placed her hands on either side of Greta's head and pulled her lips close to her own. She closed her eyes and sighed as Greta's hands skillfully groped her tight buttocks.