Smugglers 1: Nikki (28 page)

Isabelle would meet him to get nude, make love and keep up appearances so he would believe that all was well. After several hours of drinking champagne, doing cocaine and making love to and with Tom, she went back to the dock to find Chief Joe coming from Nikki’s apartment. He asked her again if she had heard from her.

After he left, Isabelle surmised that he must have been at Nikki’s looking for the money. She needed to leave the marina as soon as possible, certainly before the Chief came back with more cops and dogs to look at things more closely.

She quietly finished packing, got into the car and headed north. When she got to Ft Lauderdale she headed northwest with the thought of heading to LA.

She drove straight through to Texas where she finally stopped and got a motel room with cash and a fictitious name. Isabelle left the bags in the trunk as it was an old car and no one would steal an old Ford four door. She slept in until about 10 a.m. and then got back on the road. She drove through Texas all day, and it was getting dark, so she stopped near Trent to bed down for the night.

Next to the motel was a small bar that made home cooked food, so after getting a shabby room she went next door to have a beer and a burger. She took a booth away from the other people in the bar. There were about a dozen men at the bar and a girl waiting tables. One of the men came over and sat down across from her, tipped his cowboy hat back and attempted some small talk.

It was obvious to Isabelle that he was on the make, and he invited her to shoot some pool while she waited for her burger. She declined in a nice manner, explaining that she had been driving all day and was really tired.

“If you’re tired you ought to go to bed right away.” Isabelle just smiled at him and took a sip of her beer.

Two other cowboys came over to the booth, pushed her over and sat next to her. “Are you going out West to party? You don’t have to go West of here to party, you can party right here with the three of us.”

Not wanting any trouble Isabelle replied, “I’m just too tired to party.”

“You don’t have to do anything but lay back and enjoy yourself,” another cowboy said.

She looked at the men next to her and said, “I think you should let me out of here now.”

“What’s your hurry? Stay here with us. I insist you stay here and party with us.”

Isabelle was getting nervous and looked around the room for the waitress for help. There was no one in the bar but her and the three cowboys.

“Too late little lady, everybody is gone, and I own the place. Do you know who you are looking at?” He continued to stare at her with icy eyes.

“Not on your life,” Isabelle said as she reached for her straight razor.

Without a word, the man sitting across from her punched her in the mouth, almost knocking her out.

The men grabbed her and half carried her to the pool table, laying her across it. As she was coming to her senses, they were tearing her top and shorts off, and one of the men was mounting her. He started to penetrate her as the other two kissing her and played with her breasts.

Soon the first man was done and rolled off her, letting the next man take his place, as the other two drank their long necks. As the second man came, he quivered and hugged and kissed her, then rolled off as the third took his place. The first to mount her hit her in the side of the head, causing her eye to swell up and close as he yelled at her. “Don’t you look at me, you little whore, you black whore!”

Isabelle was lying naked, her wig torn from her head, and she was bleeding from the mouth and eye. When the last man to rape her was done, one of the other men rolled her over and got back on her while the others held her arms and put a belt on her neck, pulling it tight. They passed the end of the belt to the man on top of Isabelle who pulled it tighter, pretending to ride her like a bull, waving his hat and shouting, “Yee haw!”

Isabelle started choking, blacked out and then went still.

By the time they noticed she has stopped breathing, it was too late; they panicked for a few seconds and then went back to drinking their long necks and contemplating what to do with her body.

They decided to put her in the gravel pit with the others. One went through her shorts to find her room key and her car keys.

Another found her straight razor and yelled, “Why, that cunt was going to cut us, what an asshole!” He told the other two men to take the keys, go to her room, pack everything in her suitcase, put the case on the back seat of her car and bring the car to the bar.

When the two finished and returned to the bar, they placed Isabelle’s body in the shotgun side.

“I’ll meet you at the pit,” the boss said.

At the pit they rolled the car windows down two inches and pushed it over a sixty foot cliff to the water below. They drank their beer as they watched the car sink.

One of the men held up a gold ring and a pair of earrings. “I found these and I bet they’re worth a hundred bucks in cash.”

“They aren’t worth thirty dollars, you dummy!” the boss exclaimed.

They stood at the edge of the pit and watched as the Ford disappeared below the surface. Finished with their beers, they tossed them in the lake and walked back to the pickup truck.

On the way to the bar, the boss asked, “Did one of you check the trunk for more jewelry?”

“Nah,” the dummy replied, “she didn’t have anything of value.”

THE END

The story continues in

Smugglers 2

The Sheriff

Sex, Meth and Murder

From Tucson to the Florida Keys

Gerald McCallum

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