There's Blood on the Moon Tonight (55 page)

He was a lonely man, and was under the false impression that Tansy needed and loved him. That her mother’s heartless departure had traumatized her forever.  Poor Walter. He couldn’t recognize the devil in disguise. Even when she poked him in the ass with her pitchfork.

Tansy smacked her gummy lips. She and Lester had tied one on last night at the Drive-In.

Shit!
I can’t even recall what was playing!

Lester had brought along that cheap-ass wine he liked, and Tansy had promptly taken her fill. Besides getting drunk or getting laid, what else was there to do on this wretched little island? The town of Moon was as dry as Mayberry R.F.D. You had to cross over Moon River to buy beer or wine. After the movie, she and Lester had gone over to the Circle Jerk, where she’d ditched her date in favor of better looking Tad Swartzman.

She could feel Tad’s dried juices on her thighs, cracking and flaking as she stretched.

She got up and stumbled her way to the kitchen.

Walter was getting ready to leave when Tansy padded over to the fridge in her bra and panties. He blushed and looked away from her thong underwear.

“Tansy, why can’t you put on a robe when you walk around the house like that?”

Tansy took out the orange juice and turned to Walter, her angelic face a mockery of innocence. He tried not to stare at the tight lacy bra she was wearing, but his eyes refused to obey, returning again and again to those sloped mounds. She drank straight from the jug and let the juice dribble down her chin and onto the upper swells of her tits. A languid, sticky waterfall. Walter gulped, watching the bra turn transparent.

“Oopsie! Look at the mess I made, Wally!”

He got red in the face. “Give me a break, Tansy.”

She laughed and walked back to her room, switching her shapely ass from side-to-side, feeling Walter’s eyes molesting her. She had learned early on the power her body held over the opposite sex. The mind- control her tits and ass had over that pathetic lot.

And that surely includes my little Wally!

That pip-squeak was scared to death of her! Scared of the lustful thoughts her body provoked in him. His fear was like an aphrodisiac, driving Tansy to more outrageous acts of indecency. Taunting him with glimpses of that which he could never hope to possess.

Oh, but that was intoxicating!

Dangling her sexuality like a carrot, only to pull it away at the last second, before he could indulge himself. Leaving the tortured man with his contrite conscious and stiff dick.  She’d lost her virginity at the tender, but ripe age of thirteen, seducing her math teacher in return for a passing grade. She’d practically had to rape Mr. Brevard right there in his classroom after school. That is, until his baser instincts finally kicked in. Then he’d given Tansy what she’d
really wanted all along. She captured the whole thing on tape from a video camera she’d secreted away beforehand. Needless to say, Tansy got her passing grade. Taping the sex act had been a means-to-an-end. But once the ends were met, the means became so much more than a blunt blackmailing device. It was the start of an exhilarating hobby—making tapes of every lover she’d ever taken to bed. A virtual library of film by now—cataloged neatly from first-to-the-most-recent conquests, in twin bookshelves in her bedroom. A state-of-the-art video camera, hidden in the teddy bear Tansy carried with her everywhere (you never knew when an opportunity might present itself), captured her every sterling performance.

Tansy was quite the little pornographer. The quality of her tapes getting better as the years and boys rolled by.  She used the opposite sex like so much toilet tissue, tossing them aside after servicing her base needs. Her morals were so paper-thin it never occurred to her that what she was doing might be wrong. She understood it was frowned upon, sure, but most people were hypocrites when it came to sex. She’d yet to meet a man she couldn’t seduce. A penis she couldn’t entice. So what did that tell you?

No, that wasn’t quite true now, was it? Big Bad Bud Brown had always been able to resist her advances.
His dick always flaccid in her presence.
So far,
she thought, amending that truculent thought.
So far, he’s been able to resist me.
But I’m not done with that big ox yet!  

She stepped out of her panties and peeled off her sticky bra, examining herself in the mirror with pride. Except for maybe Big Red, she had the best tits in school. Bought and paid for over Walter’s objections that she was too young for plastic surgery. He’d paid in the end, as he always did, and damned if he didn’t enjoy them as much as she did! The way his eyes goggled every time she gave him a peek. He especially liked that heart shaped mole on her left tit. Then again, so did all the eager boys.

              She turned on the shower and sat on the toilet to take an extended piss, sighing deeply in relief. It annoyed her that Bud Brown so easily ignored her.
Like last night at the Drive-In!
He’d looked right at her, her titties practically pressed against the glass, her most inviting smile plastered on her face, and he didn’t so much as blink or slow down for a better look!
Hhhmmpphh! Maybe he’s a faggot?

Nah. Not
that
cowboy. Besides, she saw the way he looked at that Josie bitch. The same way Tansy wished he’d look at
her
. She had lusted after Buddy boy since she was thirteen and he the most physically mature boy in their class. She’d once offered to give him a blowjob underneath the bleachers in the gymnasium. Told him she’d even swallow. Tansy still remembered the look on his face. A look of such open disgust that for the first and only time in her life, she had actually felt shame. Shame soon turned to anger, though, and the desire to get even. So much so, that she’d goaded Charlie Noonan into picking a fight with Bud last year. She’d been sleeping with Charlie at the time, and even though she knew Bud would probably beat the hell out of him, it hadn’t stopped her from orchestrating the fight. Except for Charlie and herself, no one knew of her duplicity. Not even Lester. But a strange thing happened to Tansy at the sight of Charlie Noonan’s Waterloo. All of her hatred towards Bud Brown vanished, right along with Charlie’s fierce reputation and most of his rotten teeth.

The violence she witnessed that day made her want Bud Brown even more! She’d gotten so
wet
watching Charlie get the shit beat out of him (literally—at some point in the beat down, Chuckie had shat his pants) that she’d gone over to the Noonans’ trailer, where Lester had fled to escape his family’s disgrace. She’d completed Charlie’s emasculation that day by screwing his little brother ten ways to Tuesday. They’d been fuck buddies ever since.

It was Bud she wanted, though.
Bud, she had always imagined thrusting deep inside of her…

She jumped in the shower and lathered up, treading gingerly around her sore pussy. Lester had gotten carried away the night before. Last time they’d gone at it the overeager prick didn’t even use a condom. Then again, neither had Tad Swartzman, later on. Not that Tansy was concerned about becoming pregnant. She’d already had one abortion, gratis the good doctor, and viewed the procedure as nothing more than an annoying inconvenience. Dr. Bidwell was a man who knew how to return a favor.

He wasn’t half-bad in the sack, either.

She toweled off and picked up her cell to call Hank Norby, a black junior she’d yet to bed. Ironically one of the few blacks living on the island. Hank wasn’t very attractive, a nerd really, but Tansy was curious. She’d never had a black dude before and wanted to know if the stories were true. Hank answered the phone on the first ring. It was obvious he’d been waiting on her call. “H-Hello?”

Tansy smiled. She could tell he was eager. “Hey there, Hank. You still want to come over and play?”

“On m-my way,” he said breathlessly. Tansy wondered if he’d already begun without her. He hung up before she could tell him to remember his rubbers.

She checked her supply of condoms in her nightside table.
Aww, shit. All gone.
“Fuck it,” she said, closing the drawer with a bang. “What could possibly happen?”

             
              *******

After dropping Josie and Joel home, Bud had climbed up on the roof of the museum with his sleeping bag and a foam pad with which to spread it on. Gazing up at the stars, he’d fallen asleep while replaying his first date with Josie.

              He felt so light and airy it seemed completely possible he might float up into space.

             
The sun woke him early and he’d laid there on the roof, savoring the gentle warmth on his face. His eyes opened at the sound of crunching gravel. He sat up on his elbows to see his dad coming towards him.

“Do you ever sleep in your own bed anymore, son?”

Bud laughed. “Sure I do. Slept there twice last week. What’s up, Popsicle? Need my help downstairs?”

Bill strolled over to a pair of beach chairs in front of the clubhouse and carried them over to his son. He unfolded them and grunted as he sat down. “Sit with me, Buddy boy,” he said patting the seat of the other chair.

Wearing boxers and sans shirt, Bud unzipped his bag and joined his dad. He glanced over at his father curiously. It was uncommon for Bilbo to seek him out like this. Their encounters were usually limited to work endeavors or chance meetings. They cared for each other very deeply, but since that awful night, eight years ago, they’d pretty much gone their own ways outside of the museum. Despite their great physical strength, neither man was capable of lifting the other out of his grief. Emotionally, they were bereft of power, able only to handle their own feelings of loss. “What’s on your mind, Pop?”

Bill shook his head. He wasn’t entirely sure on how to talk about this thing. Ever since Bud had told him about the strange occurrences over the past two days—rabies, Bidwell, Henderson—his mind had been working overtime. Somewhere in this mess was a link to his wife’s homicide, and he was determined to find it. Even if it meant treading on sacred ground. “Son, do you recall what happened in the days immediately following your mother’s death?”

Bud shifted uncomfortably on the beach chair. He didn’t like talking about those dark days. “I…I was at the hospital on the mainland, you know that.”

“That was for only two nights, son,” Bill said, tugging on his mustache. “I’m talking about here on the island. Right after that short stay on the mainland.”

Bud’s eyebrows knitted together as he tried to think back. His mouth opened to answer his father but nothing came out. That was because he couldn’t recall a thing until after they’d moved out of their home on the West End.

Nearly four weeks after mom’s murder!

“I was afraid of this. I’ve never pressed you on it before. I always assumed if you wanted to talk about it, you’d have brought it up on your own.”

“What are you trying to say, Pop?”

“Bud, after you came back from the hospital in Beaufort, you were in Dr. Bidwell’s care for three weeks.”

“What? No! I would’ve remembered that.”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t understand, Dad. Why was I even staying with Dr. Bidwell?”

“At the time I thought it was a good idea you be closely cared for by our family physician. You were in an awful way, son. And he was so solicitous at the time, so concerned about you and your state of mind. In fact, I thought he was a Godsend! I was dealing with your sister at the time—her growing hatred of me, and her desire to get as far from Moon Island as possible.”

“You were also busy looking for mom’s killer,” Bud said, coming to his father’s defense. Bilbo blamed himself entirely too much when it came to Dottie’s traitorous defection.

Bill managed a weak smile. “Yes. There was that, too. The Red Eyed Man.”

“Where did I stay? And why don’t I even vaguely remember any of this?”

“That’s what’s troubling me, Bud. Ever since you told me about what Josie overheard and saw yesterday, I’ve been going over this in my head. I don’t think I slept thirty minutes last night. I was really hoping you could tell
me
where you stayed. Because it certainly wasn’t at the good Doctor’s house, as he claimed back then.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I went over to his home on the West End one day to pay you a visit and you weren’t there. In fact, his housekeeper didn’t seem to know a thing about it! At the time I wasn’t too worried. Bidwell has a way of inspiring confidence, you know. I just assumed he had you at his office in town.”

“But I wasn’t there either, was I?”

“No,” Bill said, his upper lip lifting over his canine tooth. Something Bill did whenever he was getting angry. An involuntary action, like a dog snarling. “His nurse didn’t have a clue, either. Now I was getting worried—and pissed. I rushed over to the Sheriff’s office—”

“Oh,” Bud said, connecting the dots.

“Yeah. Old Rupert acted all concerned, even promised to find out what was going on, and would get back to me right away. Which he did. I hadn’t left his desk four minutes, and was on my way back to Bidwell’s office, when Henderson came running after me down the street.”

“Well?”

“Henderson told me that Dr. Bidwell just
happened
to call after I left; said his nurse told him I’d been looking for him. Bidwell claimed to have rented a cottage on the South Side shore, where he and another nurse were taking care of you. I asked Henderson where this cottage was, that I wanted to see you right away, and he told me that Bidwell was already on his way into town. Forty minutes later he pulled up to the apartment I’d rented on Main Street. You were sound asleep on the back seat of his Cadillac.”