Hudson turned down a tree-lined street sporting a collection of some of Orange’s hundred-year-old Victorians. He rolled up to an imposing, unlit two-story with a receded garage tucked away on the side.
I was surprised to see Hudson pull out a key and unlock the garage door.
“I thought we were breaking in.”
“We are, you fool. Jeannie gave me a key to the garage so I wouldn’t have to park on the street.”
“You two were very hush-hush, eh?”
“I’m an old hand at this, Josh. At my age, you’ll jump through hoops of fire for a piece of tail a half century your junior.”
“I hope to grow up by then.”
“Your testicles need to drop first.”
The neighborhood was quiet. Operating under moonlight, we carried a ladder out of the garage and around to the back. The turn-of-the-century Victorian, surrounded by cedars, a chestnut, and the ubiquitous jacaranda, had been converted into student housing. “Jeannie said she was going away with all her housemates,” Hudson whispered. “I’m sure they’re drunk and naked by now.”
We placed the ladder against the beige wooden side. “I’ll go first,” Hudson growled. He spryly scampered to the second story and disappeared inside the bay window. If carrying a ladder and holding Hudson’s hand was all I’d have to do, I thought, then this was the right move. I followed him up.
Inside was dark and silent. I could smell patchouli mixed with stale beer. I treaded down the hardwood floor of a hallway, a staircase behind me and three closed doors in front.
“Hudson,” I whispered loudly.
No response. He’d only beat me by maybe half a minute, but he was nowhere in sight. He clearly wasn’t on the stairs, unless the old fart had fallen over the railing.
If someone appeared, my story would be that I was here to discuss a grade with Jeannie and I’d simply let myself in.
I tried the first door and peered inside. Nobody home. I quietly shut the door. Where the hell is Hudson? I went to the second door when my resolve left me. Something’s not right. I’m out of here.
The door opened before I could turn away.
“What took you so long?” Hudson reprimanded.
I entered the room. Filtered moonlight revealed a scattered mess. I bumped into a chair with jeans tossed over the back. A vanity stood near the door, which Hudson quietly closed behind us. Across the room, a lumpy bed with a full-length mirror at its head.
“How about some light?”
“As you wish.”
Jeannie’s pretty face was above the edge of the bedsheet, as were her hands, each tied to an opposite post. Her feet were bound similarly.
“Whoa,” I muttered, taking a step back. “Is she...?”
“I just want to say it wasn’t a rape.” His voice stunned me. I turned to face him. He was holding a gun. “I didn’t have to force myself, of course. She was willing as always. Things just got a little too rough, and I choked her out.” He looked down at his hands. “Didn’t know I still had it in me. That kind of power.” He shook his head. “The house was empty, except for the two of us, and then it was time for my appointment with you. When I left, my path was clear.”
“We better get those letters and take off, then,” I lamely offered.
“I don’t know where the damn letters are. Doubtless they will turn up. That’s why I need you.”
“Is this a joke, Hudson?”
“Strip down and get in bed with her.”
“Have you forgotten your senility pills?”
“I may be old, but I’ve lived more life than you. And I will continue to do so while you’re buried, unsung, and turning into compost.”
I didn’t move.
“I’m prepared for this, Josh. Hands on buttons.”
“Hudson, stop now. What you did here was clearly an accident. You were in the throes of passion with a woman half your age. A third or so, really, but it doesn’t matter. Can you imagine the press?” My mind was working quickly. “It was a crime of passion. They’ll paint you as this incredible stud.”
Hudson seemed to mull this over. His body sagged, as if someone let all the air out. “You’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m through. I might as well go out à la Entertainment Tonight. They’ll no doubt unearth my Academy Award speech.”
“Without a doubt.”
“Just turn around and give me a head start. I have some business to clean up.”
“Of course, Hudson.”
I raised my hands and turned to face Jeannie. I always thought she was pretty, but on closer examination, I realized she was just kind of ordinary. Her youth was the main attraction.
I heard a soft pop and fell hard to my knees. It was like every nerve ending in my right foot had been blown apart.
“I have a silencer, Josh. And at the angle I shot you, it would appear as if you pulled the trigger yourself. By accident. A case of nerves, like anyone would have after murdering their unbalanced, immature mistress. And then you cuddled her corpse before blowing your brains out.”
I cradled my foot. I was afraid to take my shoe off in case the whole thing fell apart.
“Those rumors Jeannie spread, I guess they were true after all.”
“No, they weren’t. No one will believe it,” I said, shuddering.
“They’ll believe it.” Hudson stepped closer. “Are you crying, Josh? I always knew you were a pussy. You young Turks can never back up the talk.”
I had nothing to say. I was in the most horrible pain of my life, and he was gloating.
“Get undressed and get in bed and I’ll do the rest. I’ve considered having you write a suicide note, but I think things will be self-apparent.”
I felt my fingers work the buttons on my shirt. I stood up painfully, balanced on one foot.
“And don’t worry about Sarah. I’m a great consoler.”
“You won’t get away with this.” My voice was measured and soft.
“Trousers.”
It was hard to pull them over my sneaker. I was taking my time about everything. Slow seconds were all I had.
“Now into the arms of Morpheus,” Hudson said.
The bed was surprisingly warm. I got in one knee at a time. I didn’t want to touch her cold body. I didn’t want to see her dead naked flesh under the sheet.
I heard a crack, and the sound of metal hit the floor, followed by a groan.
I looked around.
Finally.
Hank, baseball bat in hand. He picked up the gun.
Hudson cradled his elbow where Hank had walloped him.
“Put your pants on, boy,” Hank said. He tossed the bat to me, kept the gun on Hudson. “Unless you three want your privacy.”
It had been a year, and he looked the same. Crew cut. Red neck. Same thick glasses taped in the middle, frames issued by Moundsville thirty years ago. Big ooglie eyes. Slight paunch. Pendleton, same one.
And the veins. They protruded like electrical wires on every visible inch of his creased skin.
“Looks like I done broke up a party.”
“Hank,” I said. “What took you?”
“It’s all right now. Just don’t lose your lunch. Already got to clean the blood residues from your leaking hoof.” He said residue slow, drawn out, like I suppose they did in the ’30s in West Texas, where he was from.
“I know you,” Hudson said, still painfully clutching his arm. “You’re from Josh’s documentary.”
Hank grinned. “Reckon I am.”
Hudson watched me, then looked back to Hank. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m here for my friend Josh. He left me a message.”
“Didn’t trust you, Hudson, about the tenure. Hank and I were going to keep the letters and you were going to keep your promise.” I took a gulp of air.