by David Bishop
“I don’t want any money from the casino, either time.”
“Why not?” Ryan asked after moving to a rock where he could face Linda.
“This is personal. My hometown, you know.”
“Money is money, there’s nothing personal about it. Money isn’t good or evil. That part comes in because of how it is used. The people who gambled lost it. At that point it became Billy’s. For decades, Billy has taken money from everyone. It seems poetic justice to take some from him. You should take it.”
“No.”
“Okay. I think you’re nuts, but it’s your call. The surrogate mother agreement Vera has with Billy is all bull. He was just playing her to get laid. My guess is she never would have anything to do with him so he concocted that story to get her in the sack. She never would have gotten that money because he could never get her pregnant.”
“Say what?”
“Yeah. I found a medical report in the files in his office at the bank. He’s sterile. Dry as a desert breeze, well, not literally. He puts out so few swimmers that he is all but incapable of producing a child with any woman.”
“Are you sure?” she asked.
“Here’s a copy of the doctor’s report. Thought you might like to see it. Maybe show it to Vera. I plan to deliver a copy to Martha Cranston. The poor woman has been going to therapy for years, drinking fiercely, figuring Billy has a right to be unhappy with her. She needs to know it was never her, but him.”
“And it will further tear down the walls around Mr. Billy Cranston.”
“There’s that too,” Ryan said.
“He’s a no-good son of a bitch,” Linda said. “I do feel sorry for Martha.”
“Then you oughta like the additional news I haven’t told you yet.”
“There’s more?” Linda asked.
“A couple hours ago, the U.S. Marshal’s Office raided the casino and arrested Creswell on a Federal fugitive flight warrant.”
“And found an empty safe.”
“Quite a coincidence, don’t you think?” Ryan smiled with his eyes shut and his head reclined. “The Feds would have taken that money when they arrested Creswell. Better us than the government. They worked pretty fast. I only called them last night to finger Creswell.”
“So Billy no longer has a manager for his casino.”
“Not important. With the Feds knowing about the casino, Sheriff Blackstone may not be able to turn a blind eye and let it operate with new management. It’s likely the sheriff will soon shut down Billy’s whorehouse. He wants to get reelected sheriff so he’ll want to redefine himself as a law and order sheriff.”
“So,” Linda said, summarizing the current state of affairs in Cranston. “Billy has lost his judge, control of his sheriff, although he is not yet fully aware of that, and has now lost his casino. His payoffs from marijuana smuggling have stopped, as have Creswell’s payments for hiding in town. And, I agree, the sheriff will soon close his brothel so Billy will also lose that source of cash.”
“The flies are leaving the turd. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Billy’s still in charge and we have yet to convince him to cut his losses and give up the town.”
Chapter Twenty-nine
It’s time to be your own man
FRIDAY
It was around nine with a light breeze easing the clouds past a full moon. Vera was sewing, something she rarely did this late. She was working on a special order she promised to have finished by tomorrow morning. Between her happiness of seeing Linda after so many years, her sadness of the death of Carlos, and trying to fill Billy’s request for a son, her emotions were scattered.
While finishing up the special order, she heard something, or thought she did. She put down her scissors, turned off her sewing machine, quieted her movements and listened. She was now certain. Someone was at her side door, the upstairs side door. Rarely did anyone climb the stairs to approach her home. During the day, most people, customers and friends alike, came in through the Elm street entrance to her storefront. When a friend or lover came after dark, they mostly came around to the ground floor door with a walkway up from the rear gravel street. She moved hesitantly toward the door to the outside stairs. She took small steps, stopping several times to listen. When she heard the sound again she quickened her pace and opened the door.
Wham.
A fist hit her square in the mouth. Billy Cranston stood on the outside landing, his other hand against the door jamb to steady himself against the recoil of his punch. Vera nearly went down. Her hand, still on the knob, gripped tight was all that kept her on her feet. His balance recovered, Billy again struck her in the face. The force of his second blow jerked her hand free. She fell.
When she was nearly back on her feet, Billy hit her in the stomach. She felt the wind exhaust from her body. Then a third blow to her face. For this punch he used his left fist, proving his versatility and reproving his cowardice.
This latest blow turned her toward the kitchen counter. Nearly unconscious, Vera tried to grasp the ledge of the counter to keep upright. Her hands didn’t work right. She crumbled to the floor.
She moved enough to convince herself that nothing was broken. Well, maybe her nose, probably her nose, her lips were split. She tasted her warm blood. She held the flat of her hand over her mouth. Her vision fogged. Her hand reddened with her blood. Her tongue found something hard in her mouth, a tooth.
“Why?” he screamed. “Why didn’t you tell me Carol Benson was Linda Darby?”
Before she could answer, he hit her again, a hard slap across the face, and then again with his other hand. “Why?” he screamed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Vera managed to say, “Linda is my friend. You’re just a bully who fucks me for a promise of money. You can go to hell, Billy Cranston,” her words punctuated with spit blood.
Billy jerked her up onto her feet and hit her several more times. Vera didn’t know how many times. The count lost in her fog. His blows sent her back against one piece of furniture after another until she found herself against her sewing table. He grabbed her hair and turned her so she lay over the table at the waist, facedown.
He tore her dress, splitting it from the bottom. Next, he ripped her panties off and began to paddle her with the metal ruler she used to measure fabric. He beat her bottom until the ruler bent beyond use. He threw it against the wall and sodomized her.
Defying her pain and anger she refused to cry out. She clenched and re-clenched her fists. Her body and her blood wrinkling and soiling the just-finished dress that still lay on the table. When the fabric displaced, her nails clawed the raw table, snagging on the wood stubble. Inadvertently, her hand found the scissors she had used just a few minutes before.
When he had satisfied himself, he turned her over to face him. Vera could no longer discern his words, and was long past caring, tired of hearing his vitriol.
She had no strength left, but through anger she found just enough to thrust the two blades as deep as she could into the side of his abdomen. Somehow, she pulled the scissors back out, or maybe they came free when Billy twisted to wrench himself away—off the blades.
She brandished them menacingly. Her face bloody, her dress and panties torn from her body. She was naked from the waist down.
Billy stood looking at her. Just staring in what his expression said was disbelief. His feet set wider than his shoulders. His face drained white. Her blood and his splattered across the fabric on the table as if spread by splaying a wet red paint brush.
Spent from anger and hitting Vera, a wounded Billy flung the shop door open and staggered out into the night.
Somehow, Vera managed to call Linda. Fifteen minutes later, Linda stood beside Vera who was speaking to Sheriff Blackstone. Linda had called the sheriff.
“Here’s your golden moment, Reggie,” Linda said. “Right here, on a silver platter. Do you have the balls to capture it?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You told me a
nd my friend that night we talked in your kitchen that you liked being sheriff. Well, you won’t have Billy to rig the next election. You’ll need to appeal to the people. To do that, you need to present yourself as a legitimate sheriff and not just Billy Cranston’s go-fer.”
“Yeah, so?”
“So arrest his sorry ass. You’ve got him on sexual assault and battery, or whatever the right charges are. He sodomized Vera. He beat her within an inch of her life. To prove it was him you have Vera’s statement and you’ll find him wounded in the abdomen by these scissors. You can match his blood against the blood on the scissors and on that fabric.”
“Oh, man, arrest Billy? I don’t know. I mean—”
Linda grabbed the sheriff’s shirtfront. “Stop being a wimp. If you don’t do it now, I’ll arrest him in a citizen’s arrest. I can have my friend provide security for me if you won’t go along. It’s time for Reggie Blackstone to step up or crawl away. Right now is when you win or lose the next election.”
“Maybe I should talk with the new judge. I mean, this is Billy Cranston we’re talking about.”
“Reggie. Damn it. You have the sworn statement of a citizen accusing Billy. You have cause to question him. The skin on his knuckles will be torn from hitting her. If you find no wound in his abdomen, don’t arrest him. If you do find one, when you find one, you’ll have probable cause for his arrest and charging. You’ve got what will check out to be his blood all over this fabric on the table.”
“He doesn’t have to show me his stomach. I mean, my God, Billy Cranston. That man owns this town.”
“If he won’t take off his shirt, you can hold him while you go to the judge for a warrant to force him to take off his shirt. Reggie, aren’t you tired of being bullied by Billy? Isn’t it time you stand up for yourself? If you’re not ready now, you never will break away from his control. Frankly, I’d like nothing better than to do it myself. But I’m giving you this moment to put yourself on the map with the town as your own man. It’s decision time, Sheriff Blackstone.”
Chapter Thirty
What goes around, comes around
“Billy? Is that you, Billy?”
“Yes, Martha,” Billy winced when he hollered up the staircase in the middle of his home. “It’s me.” He eased his way into the TV room and turned on the lamp next to the couch.
Martha came downstairs and stood in the doorway from the kitchen, her hands on her hips.
“Leave me alone,” Billy bellowed. “This is not a good time to get your mouth going on me.”
“I don’t want to say a word to you. I just want to watch your face when you read this.” Martha turned on the ceiling light in the kitchen and walked close to Billy. She thrust out her arm, a sheet of paper in her hand, threatening in the way it was held. The way her face was set. Not like before. Not like ever before.
Billy extended his hand for the paper, but then lowered it and reached with his other hand. Her face let him know she noticed the way he was moving, slowly, and his having changed hands before reaching for the paper. His shirttail hanging free outside his pants, a red stain the size of a dinner plate circled on the side of his stomach.
There was no sympathy in her manner. She smiled.
“Where did you get this?” Billy demanded.
“I found it on the front seat of my car when I parked in town. A good Samaritan who thought it was about time I knew the truth about how disgusting you are.”
Billy moved into the kitchen where he dropped the single page on the counter, leaning over it. When he looked up, his wife’s face was more intense than he had ever seen her.
“You son of a bitch,” she screeched. “For years you’ve had me believing I was incapable of having a child when it’s always been you, not me. You’re lower than scum. We have animals in the barn that are more human than you. You convinced me that Vera would be the perfect substitute mother. You offered to pay her. She insisted I agree to it. And all the time you knew you couldn’t produce a child. You twisted fuck, you’ve likely been proud of yourself. Regularly fucking my best friend, with my approval, knowing all the time you’ll never need to pay her. What do you have to say for yourself?”
“You said you didn’t want to say a word to me. You only wanted me to read this report. Well, I’ve read it lots of times. I don’t see the big deal here. You were fucking Carlos Molina. Now I’m fucking Vera Cunningham. It’s not like either of you are virgin schoolgirls. Vera has given shelter to half the cocks in the county. I’d have probably given Vera the money someday. If you want, I’ll give it to her tomorrow. Will that shut you up?”
“You’ve made us a pariah in our own town. You run things through bribes and threats. You’re honest with no one, not even me, not even about why we can’t have children. Everyone hates us.”
“And you think you could run things better, bitch? Don’t make me laugh.”
“I know you murdered Carlos. You piece of shit.”
“Oh, and just what makes you think that?”
Before Martha could reply, the front doorbell rang several times. Billy moved slowly when he went to answer it. Martha lingered a few steps behind.
“What the hell do you want, Reggie?” Billy said when he saw the sheriff standing under the porch light, his hat shadowing his face.
“Billy Cranston. I’m here to place you under arrest. I’ll need to cuff you, please turn and put your hands behind your back.”
“Are you daffy, Reggie? Get the hell outta here.”
Billy sensed someone else moving toward the porch, stepping forward into the light. It was the woman he now knew to be Linda Darby. Billy said nothing to her.
“What’s the charge, Sheriff?” Martha asked.
“Aggravated sexual assault and battery, I believe is the technical charge. Truth is I’m not certain . . . oh, against Vera Cunningham.”
Martha looked at Linda. “Is Vera going to be okay?”
“With time, I think so. She’s at the hospital getting checked over.”
The sheriff repeated, “I’m going to cuff you, Mr. Cranston. Please turn around and put your hands behind your back.”
Five minutes later, Billy was in the back seat of Sheriff Blackstone’s squad car.
“Martha,” Linda said, “I’m going to follow the sheriff back to the jail. I want to confirm that Billy is charged and behind bars. Then I’ll go to the hospital to check on Vera.”
“Would you allow me to accompany you to the hospital?”
“Why don’t I meet you there after Billy is behind bars? We can’t be sure Vera will be able to have visitors.”
Chapter Thirty-one
I’m here to resign
“Judge Austin, Sheriff Blackstone’s in the waiting room. He’d like to see you as soon as you have some time.”
“I already have more on my desk than I can do in a week. What the hell, show him in.”
Sheriff Blackstone turned the tarnished knob on the oak door that led into the old private office used by the new judge. Austin was hefting a cardboard box full of plaques and framed certificates from the top of his desk to the floor behind his chair.
He looked up, “Hi, Reggie. In chambers let’s ignore the formalities. We’ve know each other too long. Call me Denton like you always have.”
“Thank you, Judge, ah, I mean, Denton. First off, congratulations on your appointment as judge.”
“It’s only an interim position, but thank you. I haven’t been here long enough to get familiar with my chair, so I ask you to trim off the fat and get right to the meat. Does this have anything to do with your having arrested Billy Cranston last night? By the way, that took some balls. From what I’ve seen, merely preliminary of course, you had cause.”
“Thank you, Sir. No, my visit isn’t directly related to my arresting Billy.”
The judge didn’t reply.
“At your request, I’ll cut to the meat of it. I plan to give my resignation to the county commissioners in a few days, and thought you shoul
d have a heads up. I guess that’s it, your honor.” Sheriff Blackstone started to get up. The judge waggled his hand motioning the sheriff back into his chair.
“Reggie. Damn it. Why? Let’s talk turkey here. You like being sheriff. Like a lot of folks in this town, you’ve been eating Billy’s shit for years. Last night you let the town know you’re through being his boy. That you’ve taken a stand on the side of the law as it should be, not as it best serves Billy. You need to stay on the job. There’s an election coming up in not too many months. In confidence, I’m planning to run for reelection as district judge. I’d like to see you run for reelection.”
“That sounds good, Judge, but, you know I ain’t always applied the law proper like. As for reelection, I plan to run again, as a citizen, not an incumbent.”
“That’s noble, Reggie, but, dumb. The incumbent always has an advantage. I’ll have that advantage. You should too. Between now and then, I expect a lot will be going on in this town. I don’t yet know all of it, but I can say this. There’s no better way for you to distance yourself from the past and redefine yourself as part of the future than to stay in office and help restructure this town. Please forget your plans to resign and keep wearing that badge.”
“All right, Judge. Billy always did the thinking. If I stay, I may need to call on you from time to time.”
“As long as it won’t compromise my duties as judge, I’d be happy to be available anytime.” Judge Denton Austin stood and extended his hand. “Do we have agreement, Sheriff?”
Reggie smiled and clasped Denton’s hand. “I should mention I plan to shut down Billy’s whorehouse.”
“When?”
“This afternoon, Judge, after I get some lunch.”
“It’s about time. Switching back to Billy’s current arrest, his attorney will be successful in getting Billy released on bail. I have no real reason for denying it. You should know I plan to issue a restraining order to keep him a hundred feet from Vera Cunningham, the woman he allegedly battered.”
