Sintown Chronicles II: Through Bedroom Windows (89 page)

“Yeah, sure is, Leora. The hospital called this morning to let us know Sam has regained consciousness."

Leora glanced at Jane Poindexter, sitting in front of the console, studying a crossword puzzle. “Bud, I think he has been conscious for a long time. He couldn't move, so nobody except Shelly realized it."

“Can he talk at all, Leora?"

“He makes sounds, but you have to guess at what he's saying. He can nod his head for yes and no."

“Nurse,” Cranfield said, “how long will the doctors be with Mr. Pond?"

“I really don't know,” she said, looking up from her puzzle.

He nodded.

“You think Sam can put the final nail in the coffin?"

Bud sighed. “Maybe, but that's not what I'm hoping for."

“Don't tell me you think Shelly is innocent?"

“Something just doesn't add up right, Leora. She's told so many versions it's hard to ferret out the truth."

“You think she's been intentionally lying?"

“Yes, but that doesn't explain all of it. Did Borders tell you she's suffering from PTSD?"

“Yes, but I don't know much about it."

“Me either. That's why I was up until the wee hours this morning searching the Internet for information. The result of the disorder seems to be frightening flashbacks as well as confusion of fact and fantasy caused by some mind blowing experience."

“Well, she certainly experienced that with the near rape and witnessing Sam being shot."

“That's the obvious."

“You think the traumatic experience may have been something else?"

“I'm not a psychiatrist, Leora. I should keep my mouth shut."

“Come on, Bud. You started down this road. Now take me to the end of it."

“Do you think Delilah Delight is important to Shelly?"

“Very. She makes no bones about her, uh, profession as an exotic dancer."

“Did you know she was fired from her job as the headliner at the Crazy Cat Club?"

“No. I thought Sam made her quit when they were married. So you think that losing her job might be the traumatic experience that caused her present condition?"

“Like I said, I'm not a psychiatrist, but that could explain how she became involved in this scheme in the first place."

“God, I'd like to believe that."

“I think Boyd is innocent too."

“What?"

“I've interviewed Fisher several times, Leora. The guy's sharp. Hell, so far he has been successful in fighting extradition to South Carolina."

“But you have copies of email messages taken from Shelly's computer proving that Boyd helped plan the murder."

Cranfield nodded while rubbing his chin. “He and Shelly both claim they backed out at the last minute. That's the only consistency in their accounts."

“So you believe Boyd's hypothesis that Shelly convinced another lover to carry out the plan?"

“No. Boyd says he turned Shelly down on Friday afternoon. Shelly says she backed out Saturday morning. There simply wasn't time for her to bring anyone else into the picture."

“If that's true, then Boyd must be the masked man."

“I don't think so. Like I said, the guy is sharp. If he were the assailant, he would have created a better alibi than sitting at home alone, drinking and watching TV."

Then you think the plan and the actual crime is a coincidence?"

“I would if it wasn't Shelly's 9mm used in the assault."

Leora grinned as she pushed aside a lock of hair on her forehead. “I'm lost, Detective. What do you think happened?"

“I think someone else, unknown to both Boyd and Shelly, committed the crime, but it was not a robbery gone awry. Whoever pulled the trigger intended to kill either Sam or Shelly."

“Or both."

He nodded.

“You think Sam can provide the missing link?"

“I doubt it."

“Bud, Borders thinks I'm nuts, but I'm convinced the Dollars’ butler is involved."

“I know. I talked with Borders on the phone this morning. I'll check it out, Leora. I plan to drop by your house later today, if that's okay, to look at the photograph."

Leora placed her hand on Cranfield's arm. “Thanks, Bud. I don't think that old goat of mine took me seriously."

“Uh, oh. Looks like the docs are finally leaving Sam's room."

“Bud, Sam did try to give me one clue. I'm sure he will tell you too."

Cranfield looked at Leora curiously.

“It took a while, but I finally figured out that Sam noticed something unusual about the masked man's left leg. Maybe a hole in his pants or something like that."

“All right!” Nurse Poindexter shouted. She looked up sheepishly while covering her mouth. “I'm sorry. I ... uh ... sometimes try to finish the crossword puzzles the night nurse leaves behind and I finally figured out the last word. It was a tough one—a six letter word meaning skin blemish."

“Mole?” Cranfield offered. “No—not enough letters."

“I was thinking birthmark,” Leora laughed, “but that has too many letters."

Poindexter grinned. “Tattoo."

“I'll see if Mrs. Dollar is in,” Ron Ascue said after inviting Leora to wait in the entranceway.

Good-looking man, Leora thought. His face is so similar to Fisher's they could be twins.

“Leora, good to see you,” Sandra said, entering from the rear hallway. “Come on in."

“I can only stay a minute, Sandy,” Leora replied, rolling her eyes. “I expect Borders back from Myrtle Beach any minute now. Could we step outside?"

“Sure,” Sandy agreed.

They strolled towards Leora's Toyota. “Did the photo and fingerprints help?"

“I'm sure they will. Borders, as I said, is on the way home from the beach. As soon as he gets here, I'll make him check them out. I ran into Detective Bud Cranfield at the hospital this morning. He's interested in the evidence too."

“How's Mr. Pond?"

Leora's face brightened. “He's conscious now, and has regained some movement, but he can't speak very well just yet."

“Oh, Leora. That's wonderful news."

“Sandy, does Mr. Ascue have a tattoo on his left thigh?"

“What?"

“Sam managed to tell me that when the assailant dropped his pants to rape Shelly, he noticed a tattoo on the man's left thigh."

“How would I know a thing like that?"

“I thought maybe you'd seen Mr. Ascue wearing shorts."

Sandy grinned. “Leora, you're close to making a believer out of me."

“Then you've seen a tattoo?"

“No, and Mr. Ascue frequently wears shorts, but they're always long shorts that come to mid thigh. Even his bathing trunks are like that."

“Damn. Do you know if Mr. Ascue has a lady friend?"

“I know nothing about his personal life. Why do you ask?"

“We need to find someone who's seen the man naked."

Sandra watched Leora drive away and smiled. I wonder if Ron likes small breasts.

“Is something wrong, Mrs. Dollar?"

“No,” Sandra replied. “Mrs. Borders was in a hurry. Mr. Ascue, how long have you been with us?"

Ron eyed his boss carefully. “Ten months, Mrs. Dollar."

“Do you find me attractive, Ron?” She draped her arms over his shoulders.

He swallowed. “Of course I do, Mrs. Dollar."

“Will you do me a favor, Ron?"

“Of course, ma'am."

“When Tim is not here, call me Sandy.” She stroked his cheek and placed her hand directly on his crotch. “Is that thing as huge as I think it is?"

He moaned as he felt his penis swell in her hand. He gently placed his hands on her chest. “Sandy, are your breasts as delicious as I think they are?"

She smiled and headed for the steps. “Would you like to find out, Ron?"

“Damn it, old woman, I just got home. I'm exhausted. Come snuggle with me at little. I missed you."

“If you think you're sexy lying on the bed in your boxers, you've got another think coming, you old goat. Get dressed. Bud will be here any minute."

“I agree the picture looks like Fisher, Leora, and I swear I'll check out the fingerprints, but can't it wait until tomorrow?"

“No it can't, Julius. That poor woman is sick and in jail. Every minute must be agony for her. Get up, damn it."

Borders struggled to his feet. “How do you expect me to see if Fisher has a tattoo on his thigh? Just walk up to him and tell him to drop his pants?” He reached for his shirt.

“He'll be glad to drop his pants if he has no tattoo. Julius, do you want to send two innocent people to prison?” She cocked her head at the sound of the chimes. “That must be Bud. Hurry up, Julius."

“Leora? Sandy here. Mr. Ascue has the image of crossed swords close to the top of his left thigh."

Leora gasped and almost dropped the telephone. “Sandy, how do you..."

“Don't ask."

Leora giggled. “Was he good?"

After a moment of silence Sandy replied, “He's so damn big I'll be walking bowlegged for a month. Leora, if you ever tell anyone about this, I'll get you. I'll find a way. Hell, I'll fire that son of yours."

“No you won't,” Leora laughed. “In less than three years, Randy has made Dollar Publishing a leading contender in the fiction market. You wouldn't fire Randy unless your life depended on it. Now that we know Ron has a tattoo, how are we going to tell the authorities? We can't tell them you screwed the man to find out."

“I have that covered. I'm having a pool party tomorrow after church. Ron is in the kitchen frying chicken right now. You make sure the detectives are there. When they see Ron in a bathing suit, they'll make the discovery all by themselves."

“But you said Ron wears long bathing trunks."

“I have the guy eating out of my hand, Leora. He'll put on anything I tell him to wear. I'm using my cell phone right now, on my way to the discount house to buy the sexiest male thong I can find."

Leora tried a dozen numbers but could not locate either Borders or Cranfield. She paced the floor until the telephone finally rang.

“Julius, is that you?"

“It's me, Sherlock. You're on to something. Fisher was only too glad to shuck his jailhouse jumpsuit. No tattoo. Ron Fisher's parents died years ago. If he went to Atlanta last weekend, it was to visit their graves, not to celebrate their wedding anniversary. It may take a couple of days, but we're running his fingerprints to see if he has any outstanding warrants. We need some excuse to pick him up and check for tattoos."

“I'm ahead of you, Julius. He has a tattoo of crossed swords at the top of his left thigh."

“How in the hell do you know that?"

“I can't tell you, but it doesn't matter. Sandra Dollar is having a pool party tomorrow after church. Ron will be there wearing a thong bathing suit. You make damn sure the detectives are there to see it."

“Yes, dear,” he said playfully. “Will there be anything else?"

“Two more things. Have Bud get a search warrant. I feel certain there will be something in Ascue's room that will tie him to Myrtle Beach."

“I mentioned that to Bud. We can try, but he thinks the judge won't grant it unless we have something more than the picture as evidence."

“Will the tattoo do it?"

“If Ascue has one, the warrant will surely be issued. There was something else?"

“Yes. You contact the Myrtle Beach detectives—not Bud. I want you to tell that Lacy Spencer that Bud thinks she's an attractive woman as well as a fine police officer."

“I can't do that, Leora."

“You can and you will unless you want to sleep on the couch the rest of your life."

“You play dirty."

“You offer her the job as chief of police in Dot, too."

“Hell, Leora. I don't have the authority to do that. You're the one who is on the town council."

“Hmm. Well, at least convince her to fill out an application."

“Uh, Leora?"

“Yes, you old goat."

“You rushed me out of the house so fast this afternoon there's one thing I forgot to tell you."

“I'm listening."

“Chris Norway is interested in the job at the church and Mariah hates high humidity and salt water. How about giving Susan Kimel a call and see if she would be interested in having a trial attorney as a partner in her law firm."

“I'll make the call, you old goat. Now you make
your
call to Myrtle Beach."

“The picnic dinner was delicious, Mrs. Dollar, but that's not why we are here,” Cranfield groused as he reclined on a chaise lounge next to Sandra. “Where's the butler?"

Lacy sat at the bottom of Bud's webbed recliner, the swell of her breasts bulging from the one piece blue suit. “Bud, you have too many deputies at the park. You may have spooked Ascue."

“They're in plain clothes, Detective Spencer,” he replied, resisting the urge to press his leg against her firm buttocks.

“Relax, folks,” Sandra said. “He
is
my
butler
, you know. If I told him not to bother cleaning up, he would become suspicious. He'll be here."

Lacy leaned forward and traced her finger around a dark circle on Cranfield's chest, pressing her muscular thigh against his. “Birthmark?” she asked.

He tried to avoid looking at her cleavage, but her eyes were even more alluring. “Bullet wound,” he replied seriously.

“Then why aren't you dead?” she asked, pressing fingertips against the discolored skin. “This thing is directly over your heart."

“Fortunately I was wearing a vest at the time. The bruise never went away."

“Impressive badge of honor,” she said. “Must have been a high powered rifle at close range."

“Fifty yards or so,” he agreed.

“Caught you by surprise, did he?"

Borders interrupted. “The damn fool intentionally stood out in the open to draw the perp's fire."

“It worked, didn't it?"

“It
was
a damn fool thing to do, Cranfield,” Lacy said. “If his aim was off a foot or two he would have blown off your head, Detective."

“Better watch the detective stuff,” Borders warned. “When Ascue does get here, we don't want to tip him off."

Leora, staring through the chain-link fence, said, “He's had more than enough time to finish. I wish I could see the pavilion from here."