“Would you, really?”
“Yes. In a heartbeat. Whatever you needed.”
“Stop your begging, straight brother,” Shirley said. “You’ll get your share.”
“What? Is that right, Ruth Ann?”
Ruth Ann nodded.
Robert Earl jumped up in the air several times, shaking the entire cabin. “Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Thank you, Ruth Ann. Thank you! I told Shirley you were reasonable. I knew you were better off alive than dead.”
“What?” Ruth Ann said.
“Nothing. You’re my favorite sister.” He hugged her. “You know I wouldn’t let nobody kill you.”
Shirley laughed. “Robert Earl, Ruth Ann has nothing to do with you getting your share of the money.”
“Huh?” quickly releasing Ruth Ann.
“Shirley set a trap. She faked the will. Daddy didn’t leave all the money to me.”
Robert Earl stared at them both. “Which lie you want me to believe?”
“I faked the will,” Shirley said, “to draw Daddy’s killer up here. Once I catch whoever did it, we’ll all get our share of the money.”
“I see,” he said. “A trick… to catch the killer. You sure had me fooled.”
“Keep taking the bee pollen, Robert Earl. It’s finally starting to kick in.”
Robert Earl stared at the door. “If the killer comes here, he’s going to kill Ruth Ann.” He swallowed. “And whoever else is here. I need to get my butt out of here. Now! What if there’s gunplay?” Shirley held up the gun. “I might not know long division, Shirley, but that sure looks like a pellet gun to me.”
“I told you, Shirley!” Ruth Ann said.
“Robert Earl,” Shirley said, “why don’t you stay here and help us catch the killer? If the gun doesn’t work, you can hold the killer at bay with your knife.”
“Do I look stupid?” Shirley nodded. “Shirley, you’ve been watching too much television. I’m going home. Y’all know my number. Call me and let me know how it worked out.” He started for the door.
“Ruth Ann!” a voice cried from outside.
Robert Earl froze. “Ruth Ann, someone is looking for you.”
Chapter 34
“Linda!” the man called.
“Yes, Daddy.”
“I dropped the remote. Come get it.”
Eric exhaled in relief when Linda leaned over the couch and retrieved the remote control. Thank God the man was lazy. Eric’s legs were numb. He’d ducked behind the couch in an uncomfortable position: knees bent; butt resting on his ankles; hands flat on the floor; head scrunched down to keep from showing above the headrest. And he now needed to pee.
A few minutes later a foul odor drifted behind the couch. Hog maw? Sure smelled like it.
Eric heard snoring. The man sleeping! Eric raised his head to take a peek.
If he could have seen himself, he would have viewed a sweaty forehead slowly rising above the headrest, followed by bucked eyes flitting in every direction, and finally a mouth, opened wide, the bottom lip quivering. The smell much stronger now, he locked onto the source… feet…
…funky feet!
Eric stared at the man’s washboard stomach and massive chest. Though asleep, the man’s muscles were taut, twitching. Eric chanced a look into the man’s face: brown-skinned, square chin, broad nose and an inch-long scar below the right eye.
The man’s mouth fell open, and Eric gulped.
Silver teeth! Upper and lowers, all silver.
Why would someone have all their teeth silver?
To bite the shit outta somebody and never let go.
A moment Eric thought to huddle behind the couch and remain there till eternity. No, uh-uh, he had to get out. How?
The man stopped snoring, raised his legs to a bent position, coughed and continued snoring.
Eric resumed breathing. Jesus, pull me out of this one I’ll join church. Visit old folks at the nursing home. Donate money to those pitiful-looking puppies on TV.
Jesus, just get me out of here!
He waited for a miracle; none came. Only one option available: he had to clear the couch without waking the man. He waited a few minutes more before standing up and carefully hoisting his right leg over the man to the front of the couch. Damn! Should have gone with the left first, he thought, more strength in the right.
Dammit! He inhaled, held it and hopped off his left foot… A perfect maneuver… He was clearing the couch, the man… and then his right foot landed on something other than the floor.
A damn shoe!
His ankle twisted and he fell backward. Oh shit! He landed on his back on the couch, legs akimbo, his groin only a few inches from the man’s feet.
Again the man stopped snoring, and Eric watched the man’s chest stop rising and falling as well. Is he dead? The snoring restarted and the man crossed his right leg over the left and rested his feet squarely in Eric’s crotch. Rivulets of sweat dripped down Eric’s face and the stench of the man’s feet almost made him hurl.
A monk, he promised. If Jesus got him out of this, he would become a monk. Promise! On my dead momma’s grave! The man rubbed his nose and dug his feet deeper into Eric’s crotch, pressing his genitals in a most painful manner.
Certain he would lose his most vital organ, Eric grabbed a throw pillow, lifted the man legs, extricated himself gently but quickly and lowered the man’s feet onto the pillow. He tiptoed to the door, eased the chain free and quietly unlocked the deadbolt.
Free at last, thank God almighty, free at last!
He opened the door. If the man awoke now, no chance could he catch him. Not in a million years.
Eric stuck out his tongue at him and whispered, “You better lay off the steroids, mercury mouth. They’ll give you titties, shrink your stones.” When he turned to leave, a woman appeared in the doorway.
“Who the hell are you?” she said. Eric tried to push past her, but couldn’t get around her wide body. “Who the hell are you?”
Eric tried again to push past her, and she knocked him back with her substantial stomach.
“Walter!” the woman screamed. “Walter!”
Eric saw the man getting up from the couch. No time for bullshit now! He faked toward the woman’s right, then broke through on her left. On the porch, gearing up for top speed, he felt hands grab his wrist, pulling him.
“Walter! Walter! Walter!” She held on tight. Eric jerked hard; the woman’s grip loosened. He jerked again, pulling free momentarily… The woman caught hold of the sleeve to his favorite shirt, a gold silk Sean Jean that Shirley had bought him for Father’s Day. The shirt slid down his shoulder… She was pulling it right off his back.
“Walter!”
Eric pulled the woman into the front yard. “Lemme go, lady! Lemme go!” He grabbed her wrist to prevent her pulling his shirt off. “Let… me… go!”
The woman fell on her butt, using her weight for leverage, almost pulling him down with her. “Walter! Walter! Walter!”
Where the hell Walter?
Eric dragged the woman halfway across the yard, almost to the sidewalk. He heard a ripping sound and saw his shirt tearing at the shoulder seam. He made a fist with his free hand and waved it in her face.
“Let go! Or I’ll knock the shit out of you!” She didn’t. He reared back… and saw Walter running out of the house, looking distressed, a shotgun in his hands. He stopped a few feet short and aimed the shotgun at Eric’s head.
“Stand clear, Colleen!” Walter yelled. “I got him!”
Immediately the woman let go and rolled away. Eric stood there, paralytic, apoplectic, his only thought on two black holes. When something came out of those holes, his life would be officially over.