Leonard walked to the door, opened it and then stopped. “Have you ever lost a family member to murder?” he asked. He didn’t wait for a response. “Words can’t describe it. Numb, anguish, pain—don’t even come close. Then to be suspected—”
A black truck drove by, a rebel flag in the back window. Leonard lost his train of thought. “Have a good day, Sheriff,” and stepped out into the afternoon’s heat.
Chapter 4
Along Highway 10, two miles east of Dawson’s city limits, a mile or so short of a vacant lot where Robert Earl planned to build a gas station and exotic snake farm, stood the Blinky Motel. The only building before a ten-mile stretch to the next town, Hamburg, it lit up the sky for miles around.
A full moon hovered above. A large neon sign in front flashed INKY, missing the first two letters. Along the edge of the roof, red Christmas lights blinked intermittently from one end to the other.
Nine rooms comprised the single-level building, one inhabited by the manager, an Iranian who boasted American citizenship; thus the sign American Owned and Operated in the office window.
Three cars were parked in front on the gravel lot. In back, a late-model Chevrolet S10 truck hid among a copse of pine trees. Its owner, Eric Barnes, sat on a bed in room number seven, watching a video, Deep Throat.
Mesmerized by Linda Lovelace’s oral resuscitations, Eric didn’t hear the soft knock at the door.
“Eric?” a woman whispered, followed by a tap on the window. “Eric!” This time he heard and hastily took out the video and changed the channel, The Cartoon Network.
“Who is it?”
“It’s me.”
Eric opened the door and Ruth Ann, wrapped in a trench coat, stepped in.
“I’ve been out there a long time,” she said, looking around the room. “What you doing you didn’t hear the door?”
“I musta dozed off.” Ruth Ann brushed past him and sat on the bed. He wondered why she wore a coat in the middle of July. “Something wrong?”
She stared at the television; a petite woman slammed Johnny Bravo on his head. “The funeral, my father, everything, really…” She shook her head.
He sat beside her and ran his hand through her hair. “What you talking about, baby?” She pushed his hand away. “What’s the matter? Don’t you still love me?”
“Eric, my daddy was murdered. Somebody poisoned him. His funeral was just yesterday.”
“He was murdered! Damn! Ain’t that a bitch! Take your clothes off, let’s get busy.”
Ruth Ann shot him a cold look. “For your information, Daddy and I were real close. You wouldn’t understand.” She covered her eyes and started crying. “I miss him so much!”
“I miss him, too,” tugging on the trench coat. Good girl, he thought as he slid the coat down her shoulders.
To his surprise, Ruth Ann sported a blue skin-tight jumpsuit underneath the coat; crying loudly now, her sobs drowning out Johnny Bravo begging for a date. Even in her distress, he wanted her.
Ruth Ann was an attractive woman. Coal-black hair fell loosely to her shoulders. Brown eyes below pencil-thin eyebrows slanted upward, giving her a slightly Asian appearance. Her complexion resembled liquid caramel, creamy smooth. Figure curved in all the right places, especially in the rear.
What mostly fascinated Eric was her mouth. Lips full and sensuous, almost always sporting a sparkling cherry sheen. When she talked her lips barely moved, concealing her teeth, straight and snow white.
He hugged her. “It’s going to be all right, baby. I’m here.” He palmed her breast and she pushed his hand away.
She stopped crying and said, “I’ve been doing some thinking, some serious thinking.”
“Is that right?”
“Yes, I have. Daddy’s death triggered my conscience. I’ve allowed my moral compass to shift to depravity and self-gratification.”
“Yeah,” Eric said, not having a clue what the hell she was talking about. “Me, too.”
“Really? You feel the same way?”
“Yeah, hell yeah! I feel the same way you do. Now let’s get naked.” He pulled her to him and started kissing her neck, then tried to push her onto the bed.
“Stop!” Ruth Ann shouted, pulling free.
“What’s the matter, baby? We don’t have much time. I took two Levitras and rented this room for an hour.”
“Didn’t you just say you felt the same as I do, guilty and ashamed? Morally depleted?”
“I did?” When did I say all that? “No, I didn’t!”
Ruth Ann got up and went into the bathroom. Eric kicked off his sandals, hopped out of his baggy short pants and snatched off his V-neck T-shirt. He lay on the bed stark naked, his erection pointing north.
Ruth Ann stepped out, drying her face with a washcloth. She glanced at Eric, then sat down in the chair next to the bed.
“C’mon, baby,” Eric said, patting the bed. “I’ll make you feel better, all tingly inside.”
“Eric, you’re not listening. I can’t do this anymore. My sister, your son’s mother—I can’t do this anymore, not in good conscience. It’s wrong. It was wrong from the start. This should not have happened. I can’t do this anymore.”
Eric sat up. “Okay. I’ll start using a damn rubber.”
“No. Listen to what I’m saying. I cannot do this anymore. You hear me? I cannot do this anymore! Shirley’s my sister and technically she’s your wife. We can still be friends, but the hanky-panky is over. We were lucky no one got hurt. No longer we have to worry about Shirley or Lester finding out about us. You see what I’m saying? No more guilt feelings. We can live a moral life. You see what I’m saying?”
Eric wasn’t listening, watching his erection shrink slowly but surely.
He stood up directly in front of her. “One for the road, okay? Just once more, and then we’ll start being friends.” He was on the rise again. “Come on, baby.”
Ruth Ann shook her head.
“C’mon, Ruth Ann, one more time. Look, he’s all excited.” Ruth Ann closed her eyes. Damn… double damn! She was so close. “Ruth Ann, look at me.”
Shaking her head emphatically: “No, Eric!”
He moved closer and brushed himself against the side of her face.
“No, Eric!” and pushed him. He fell onto the bed. “It’s over, Eric.” Starting for the door: “It’s best you understand that.”
Eric jumped to his feet, ran to the door and pressed his back against it. “Hold on, Ruth Ann, just hold on. Let’s talk, okay? Don’t leave me like this!”
Pulling on the doorknob: “I’ve got to go, Eric. I told Lester I’d be back in thirty minutes. I’ve been gone an hour.”
“Fuck Lester!”
“Let me out, please!”
“Ruth Ann, wait a minute. You can’t leave me like this. I…” He swallowed. “I-I love you, Ruth Ann. I really do!” That was hard, incredibly hard. His father had warned him never to tell a woman those three words unless he planned to marry and take care of her. Until now he’d obeyed the edict. “Honest, Ruth Ann. Cross my heart. I swear!”
Ruth Ann paused, stared him straight in the eye for a beat. Is she giving in? He could only hope. So he told her those three awful words again and again.
“Ruth Ann, I love you more than…” Than what? This was shaky ground; if he named something he treasured, she might want him to fork it over.
“I love you more than anything in the whole wide world.” That seemed safe. “Don’t end our love like this. Please, baby, not like this.” He hugged her and she didn’t resist. “I love you so much.” Kissed her ear, eye, nose, neck. “Too much, really.” Urged her toward the bed. “I love you, Ruth Ann.”
She stopped at the bed. “Do you have a prophylactic?”