Savage Summer

by Ruth Bainbridge

  Maybe I was a hair off in that earlier assessment. Michelle was back to weeping, and I was back to wondering why the hell I’d opened up that door.

  “Why’d the neighbors think Wallace is a creep, anyway?”

  Segues are what drunks do best.

  “Because he invited a nice neighbor lady to a lesson in open marriage—hubby included.”

  “Men and their penises,” she excoriated.

  “What about you and Candice?”

  “Yeah, that’s right. Do you think the problem is being in love with a woman? I mean, I wouldn’t be carrying on about a man two-timing me.”

  “That’s because you’re not interested in men.”

  Considering the force she used to hit herself in the forehead, I don’t know how she managed to stay conscious.

  “You’re right! I should have said men and your penises and women and our vaginas. God, we’re all such a mess! Why don’t we think logically about love? Why is it all about genitalia? I mean, if the Good Lord wanted us to only consider that, why did He make all these other parts?”

  It was a valid point, but if we were going to consider that, we’d have to figure out why He gave chickens anything other than drumsticks and breasts.

  “Don’t know, Mike.”

  “And why is it sharp as a pistol? Guns aren’t sharp. Knives, razors, even nails, but revolvers?”

  She was back to crying again. About to go into the bathroom to retrieve some tissues, she solved the problem by using her shirtsleeve. Not to worry; it’d wash out clean.

  “I hate Tahiti!” she screamed.

  “Is that where they’re going?”

  “Yes, but I hate it anyway!” She blubbered like a kindergartner on his first day of school, so I fetched her a glass of water, filling the coffee pot with some Colombian beans while I was at it.

  “You ever been there?”

  “No!” she yelled. “And I don’t want to, either!”

  I handed her the water. Guzzling it down, she’d morphed into some mad, liquid-sucking entity.

  “Guess the expenditure was approved?”

  “Yeah, Lamprey’s bitch wife wants to know what’s going on, but doesn’t she care that I have to watch?”

  Hysterical, she buried her head in my pillows. My heart bled for her. Mike was good peeps. I hauled my ass over and sat down next to her, stroking her hair.

  “It’s all right, Mike. You’ll get over this in about two or three hundred years.”

  “Go ahead and make jokes, Bright Eyes! It’s my vagina that’s breaking.”

  We were back to discussing genitalia. I guess all roads led to Rome.

  “I’m just trying to make you feel better. I’m even making coffee for you.”

  “You are?” she said, coming around. Sitting up like a meerkat, she sniffed the air, collapsing into my arms. “You are my friend,” she extolled, patting my chest.

  “I am indeed, Mike. Wish I could have been around when whatever happened happened.”

  “You know?” she said, eyeing me through the eye not closed.

  “That you’ve been through some heavy shit. Yup.”

  “It was awful. I was teased and pushed around ever since I could remember. One kid in particular. Of course, he had these friends and … how could I help what I am, Savage? How?”

  “You couldn’t,” I assured.

  “Exactly! But every day, they were there after school. Pounding the shit out of me … and touching me. They said that I’d learn to like it.”

  “Did you tell your parents?”

  “No. They said they’d hurt my cat, but they did, anyway. She went missing and I know it was them.”

  “That sucks, Mike.”

  “Yeah, but I haven’t gotten to the good part yet. When I was fourteen, they dragged me into the woods and had at me. Beat me up so bad that I wanted to die.”

  So that was it. I cradled her head and let her cry.

  “I’m so sorry, Mike. What the hell gets into people sometimes? Please tell me they were arrested?”

  “Yes, I told … and they were arrested, but not for long. Seems they dismissed it as kid stuff and they blamed me for picking a fight. It’s why I became like this. I had two ways to go: down or up and I chose up. I figured if I became something that I could get back at them.”

  “And have you?”

  “Not yet.”

  “I’m glad to hear you have a plan. Now I’ll get you that coffee.”

  “Good. I could use a cup or …”

  Her eyes fluttering, she pushed herself off my shoulder. Her head settling into the pillows, she tucked up her legs. I knew what was coming so I helped by slipping off her shoes. I wondered if Mooch liked strong roast.

  I turned off the light, Moochie scampering to the foot of the stairs.

  “Oh, and, Savage,” she whispered.

  “What, Mike?”

  “I’m glad that perfume is gone.”

  CHAPTER 16

  “Ruth,” I murmured as I snuggled up with Mooch. When you’re asleep, you don’t discern anything beyond soft. If something is soft, it’s interchangeable. That’s why I kept mistaking Moochie’s tongue for my dead fiancée’s.

  The little dog was coating my face in doggie spittle. Even the beef jerky breath didn’t yank me out of the fantasy. It was because the smell of bergamot was again circulating in the air.

  My eyes were yanked open by the ringtone of my phone. All I had time to do was mumble, “Oh, no.” A check of the time confirmed that Dr. Shadows had risen with the birds again.

  “Demeter,” I said upon answering the phone on the second ring.

  A chilling cackle was Dr. Shadow’s response. I didn’t know if it sounded so ominous because of the voice synthesizer or because it was indeed malevolent.

  “At least you’re listening, but you need to dig deeper.”

  “Into what? The motherhood angle? The Rites of Elysian? Her being an earth goddess?”

  “And you call yourself a detective.”

  The fucktard had done it again. Hung up at the wrong time. Now I knew why women got so frustrated with premature ejaculation. Not that I hadn’t figured out that one before this; it’s just that I was in denial.

  “Was it that caller again?”

  Mike was up and propped in my bedroom doorway. She didn’t look bad, but I’d seen pureed soft breads look better.

  “Dr. Shadows? Yes.”

  “Is that what you call him? Or her, I suppose.”

  “Yup. Everything needs a name, Mike. Even Moochie here, don’t ya, boy?” I replied, giving up a little love.

  “You’re including the dog in our conversation? That’s just nutso. You need to solve this case and fast. Doesn’t he, Mooches?” she responded as she began stroking his fur.

  I made no comment. I wanted to keep the head I had on my shoulders.

  “I’m making coffee,” she said, sniffing the air. “And I’m not going to mention you know what being back, but it is. So what did Dr. Shadows want this time?”

  “Same shit. Wanted to talk about Demeter.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “Ruthie’s favorite Greek goddess—that according to Becca, her best friend.”

  “You called her?”

  “No, she called me. Wanted to meet me for dinner to talk about something. Hey, do you mind? I’d like to shower.”

  “Nope, I don’t mind,” she said, scooping up Moochie in her arms and hopping on the bed.

  So she wanted it like that, eh? I dropped my pajama bottoms and she didn’t even flinch. She was a soldier, all right. I padded into my en suite and turned the faucet until the water was bitching hot.

  “Dinner?” she shouted.

  “Oh, yeah! We had dinner and I asked her who Ruth’s favorite mythological character was.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Dr. Shadows told me it was important. Ruthie never mentioned anything like that, so I l
ooked through our correspondence and hit another dead end. So when I got the call from Becca yesterday, I figured she’d know.”

  “Isn’t that a bit convenient?”

  “Yeah, I thought so too,” I said as I rinsed off the last of the soapy residue. Opening the glass, I stepped out to find Mike planted on the rim of my tub. Mooch looked comfortable in her arms. Grabbing a towel, I hit the crescendo of my spiel. “Especially since she told me the same thing dingo breath did.”

  “Which is?”

  “That Ruthie was having an affair. And why do I feel like I’m back in my high school locker room?”

  “Hmmm,” she replied, contemplating the new information. From her expression, the few seconds was the equivalent of waiting an hour before going in the water to swim. “What do you think? Still convinced it’s not true?”

  “Yes. And as you’ve hinted, Becca and Dr. Shadows may well be one and the same. I mean, the good doctor would have to be someone I’m familiar with. If they weren’t, why the need for disguising their voice?”

  “Exactitude. Course, some people are just careful. You are recording these chats, aren’t you?”

  “Nope,” I said as I looped the towel into the hamper for three points. Striding into the bedroom, I picked out a pair of drawers and made myself to home.

  “Tidy whities? No, Savage, no! It’s all wrong!”

  “It’s the way it is, Mike. I’m not gonna guild my lily.”

  Leaning against the wall, she kissed Moochie, who responded in kind.

  “It’s just so weird. Why on earth would you need to know about Demeter?” she asked.

  “Question is, why I need to know more than the goddess’ name. That’s what I was advised this morning. Dig deeper. That’s a quote.”

  “I know this is obvious, but I’m working on half cylinders. Was Ruthie in a sorority?”

  “I thought of that, but she wasn’t. I’m certain of that because the subject of sororities had come up. She told me she regretted not joining this one that pledged her. Said it would have greased the wheels in getting in with the right people after graduation. She didn’t regret it that much, though. Her parents are loaded. All she would have had to do was ask them for an introduction.”

  “I see. Then the importance of Demeter is what’s called a missing key. We fill in that blank and we can move one step up the ladder.”

  “We?”

  “Yes, we. I’m your friend. And friends help each other solve grisly murders of loved ones.”

  Sliding my last clean t-shirt over my head, I patted old Mike on her back.

  “Tell me, Savage, what was Ruth like?”

  “The truth?” I responded.

  “Of course.”

  “She was a pain in the ass. I don’t mean she was loud or anything. She was uber polite, but the most irritating woman I ever met.”

  “Why?”

  “Because her moods swung so dramatically that it was like dating twelve women. But the thing is that one of those women was the nicest, sweetest, smartest, most alluring woman I’d ever met in my entire life. There was an innocence about her at those times. She was vulnerable and opened up to me, but I never knew when she’d shut the door. But that one part of her was worth it. That was the Ruthie I loved. The rest I put up with so I could be with that angel.”

  “Thanks for that,” Mike responded. “I appreciate the honesty. Think we both like the complex.”

  “I think you’re on to something there. And as for remembering, you’re doing fine. I’m surprised you remember anything from last night, considering the condition you were in.”

  “Don’t remind me,” she said, touching her forehead and wincing in pain from a headache that I was sure was driving her crazy. “And that move you made, talking to the neighbors—priceless.”

  “Coming from you, that opinion is prime time TV during sweeps. You’re all right, Mike, you really are.”

  “And you are, too. Still a little pasty, but okay.”

  CHAPTER 17

  With both Mike and Wallace gone, things were quiet, but Mooch filled in the dry spots. The black Pommie was becoming a regular at the doggy park. It gave him time to work off excess energy, and me the opportunity to snoop. Janice Armstrong and I bonded even more, and Alice was … well, Alice. Even Eva and Nicole were less surly. At least they weren’t treating me like an axe murderer, but how did they know for sure?

  I spent the rest of the time digging deeper into the legend of Demeter, but what I was looking for, I didn’t know. In fact, I sort of resented that I was listening to a disembodied voice, especially since the outrageous accusation about Ruthie should have sent me in the opposite direction. In my heart, I questioned if I were being disloyal to the woman I loved, but then remembered that Becca alleged the same thing. I kept the theories of why that occurred down to two. Either she was indeed Dr. Shadows or Ruthie had been doing something secretive that her friend had mistaken for infidelity.

  I was partial to the last theory, almost positive that it was correct. It made sense because Ruthie was a private person. Therefore, it didn’t surprise me that she held things back from her best friend. Our relationship was a perfect example of how Ruthie had behaved. It had been months before she let on that she was seeing me. Under different circumstances, it might have bothered me in, but with Ruth? It seemed entirely normal and I let it pass.

  Five days solved the problem of any loneliness. Mike was back in town and fit to be tied. I guess those telescopic lenses really work. Why I hadn’t taken full advantage of my verbose friend’s absence was peculiar. It boiled down to my former personality, the one before the homicide, infecting my life in making a reappearance. I was back craving human companionship. Sorry, Mooch.

  I decided to celebrate the occasion of reclaiming old traits by reviving other habits. Impetuously inviting Wolfie to a game of kick ass poker on Friday night, I left the rest of the old gang out of things for the meantime. After all, I was easing back into things and not jumping in with both feet. To fill out the table, I asked Mike, but Marge somehow also managed to get invited along. With a sixty-plus-year-old woman in the mix, it promised to be exciting.

  With that event looming three days away, Mr. Wallace popped back in town. When I passed by his home, the garage door was open, and so were the blinds. I was back on the clock.

  That night, I was ready for him. I’d bought real equipment and I took some photos of him kneeling in the bushes. The foliage covered up most of his activity, but I got good shots of him when he stood up. The cover boy pics could be his ticket to fame—not.

  Mike interrupted the snapshot fest. Yelling for her to come in, my voice wouldn’t travel through the patio doors. Mooch’s yapping never did.

  “So that perv is back.” Mike was starting right in.

  “We don’t know that for sure. For now, he’s a common variety of creepy crawler.”

  “Whatever,” she huffed. “What the fuck is he doing?”

  “Have no idea. None.”

  Hank had changed species. From crawling, he’d gone to gazelle in performing wind sprints. He would disappear through the bushes, and a few seconds later, he’d return.

  “Why the hell does he keep doing that? Doesn’t he have a treadmill?”

  “I don’t,” I replied.

  “Yeah, but you handle the lack of equipment better. Don’t see you doing that in any of your neighbor’s yards.”

  “Wait, look at that,” I whispered.

  Wallace bent over, picking up what looked like a laundry bag. Taking off, he was back a few seconds later, but this time, he didn’t stop.

  “Did you get all that?” she asked.

  “Sure did.”

  “Good, ‘cause I’m right behind him,” Mike responded, dashing towards the door.

  “Me, too,” I agreed, joining in on the fun.

  We snuck outside. Hiding behind some shrubbery, we waited until he’d crossed the road. Mike got in her car,
while I followed on foot. After all, I knew where he was going. I made up for lost time. Having the foresight to take the damn camera with me, it clicked like a ticket taker in rush hour.

  I used an action setting. It resulted in capturing him tossing the bag into the back of his van. He wasted no time. He bolted around to the driver’s seat. I took a series of photos of him driving away. Mike’s car eased out, trailing behind at a perfect distance.

  With my part done, I headed home to put on a pot of coffee. Even without the caffeine, I was positive that I’d be up half the night. This new spin of Hank engaging in running one-hundred-yard dashes was crazy, but then, apparently, so was Mr. Wallace.

  CHAPTER 18

  Wolfie was the first to arrive. A case of beer in his hands, his mood reflected the momentous occasion. The Savage Poker Championships were back in business. The prize? Bragging rights.

  “Hey, Savage.”

  “Hey, Wolfie.”

  Placing domestic on the countertop, he rubbed his hands together in anticipation of taking me for every penny I had.

  “Stakes the same?” he queried.

  “As they ever were. That means no car keys, mortgages, or life insurance policies allowed.”

  “Shit! I needed a new ride,” he lamented with a shrug.

  Officially off the wagon, I snapped open a brewski. While I enjoyed the taste, I was in control and no longer dependent on the alcohol to keep from jumping in the ocean and ending it all.

  While we wisecracked and told off-color jokes, he helped me with the snacks. We spread them out on a folding table. Nobody could say I skimped on eats. There were piping hot sliders, chips, dips, and salsa for the taking. And no questions would be asked about double dipping. We were all on the honor system.

  Mike arrived next—her guest in tow. While she’d called earlier, asking if she could bring someone along, I was unprepared for it to be a girl straight out of the pages of Maxim.

  “Candy, Savage. Savage, this is Candy,” she introduced as she goosed my butt cheeks from behind. “Can I see you for a moment—outside,” she added, tugging me by my shirt through my door. Wolfie covered the manhandling by making nice-nice with the stunning cover girl. Mike hadn’t been exaggerating about Candice’s good looks.

  “I didn’t tell you about the recent developments,” Mike started.