Sintown Chronicles II: Through Bedroom Windows

by David O. Dyer, Sr.

  “That's not a bad idea, partner."

  “Partner? Maggie, are we partners?"

  “You don't think I'm going to let you keep all the gold to yourself, do you?” Maggie laughed as she picked up the notebook and resumed reading aloud.

  There was a section on equipment needed—a dishpan or a specially made pan with a pocket in the center, a shovel, bucket, some watertight containers like baby food jars and maybe an ice pick. The notebook explained that gold nuggets tumble down streambeds during spring floods. As the floods recede, the gold nuggets, being heavier than other rocks, are the first to settle and can often be found on the downstream side of obstacles like boulders, fallen trees and sharp bends in the creek bed.

  Ten pages of the notebook were devoted to the craft of panning—slowly reducing the floating particles in the pan until only gold or gold-bearing rock is left. They learned that the small rocks found outside the back door were, indeed, little nuggets of gold, for gold never sparkles—it shines both in sunlight and shade.

  The notebook explained that placer gold is flakes of gold found in streams. It has weathered away from the mother lode and floated downstream. Tracing placer gold back to its source is one way of finding the mother lode and of increasing one's chances of becoming wealthy as a miner.

  Greta's dreams of swirling water revealing bits of shiny yellow rock in the bottom of a dishpan were suddenly broken. “Maggie,” she squealed. “I promised Eddie I'd walk to the Dollar place and ask about the job."

  Maggie glanced at her watch. “We have plenty of time. It's only noon."

  “He gets off at two on Sundays,” Greta fretted.

  “Do you have an appointment?"

  “No. We ain't got no telephone."

  “Church is letting out about now. They'll be in a hurry to get home and have lunch. Tell you what. Let's go to my place and grab a bite to eat. I'll call Sandy from there and see if she will see you this afternoon."

  “But what about Eddie?"

  “Leave him a note. Tell him you figured Sandra would be in church this morning so you are going to try to see her after lunch."

  “Okay. Then I can walk home and be all sweaty when he sees me."

  “You'll do no such thing. I'll bring you home. You can tell Eddie I saw you walking and offered you a lift."

  Greta smiled like a schoolgirl. “You're good at making up lies, Maggie."

  “Thanks, I think."

  “While I throw some clothes on, Maggie, pack up all the stuff we found about gold. I want you to keep it at your house. If Eddie found out, he'd want in on the action and would keep everything we make for himself. Don't forget the books in the spare room."

  Maggie went to the basement and pushed the box, now missing one three-ring binder, back under the stairwell. She again glanced at the building material and pried open one of twenty square boxes that bore the legend, “Quality Soundproofing Tiles.” Now, why would Eddie want to build a soundproof room, she wondered as she examined one of the thick porous squares.

  She located an empty box and brought it with her to the spare room to use in transporting the books on gold mining. As she entered the room, she felt a cold chill.

  “Well, hello, Ida,” she laughed. “Pleased to meet you."

  * * * *

  “God, we were swamped when church let out,” Eddie complained as he dropped into a chair. “The old man wanted me to stay until the crowd thinned out."

  “It's nearly five o'clock, Eddie. I was getting worried about you,” Greta lied.

  “Turn around,” he ordered. “Damn, Babe. I didn't mean to beat you that hard. Your ass has turned purple."

  “I'm sorry I made you mad, Eddie. I tried to make up for it today, though. I walked all the way to the Dollars place and back in all this heat, just like you wanted. Then I took a quick shower so I wouldn't be all sweaty and stinky in case you wanted me when you got home."

  “Maybe later. Right now, I'm beat. Did the Dollar bitch give you the job?"

  “I don't think she likes me much. Tim kinda forced her into saying she would let me have it on a trial basis."

  “When do you start?"

  “I told her I'd let her know."

  “You what?” he yelled as he jumped from his chair and grabbed her by the hair.

  “Eddie, you're hurting me,” she pleaded as she stared into his glassy eyes.

  “I ought to pull your damned hair out by the roots,” he shouted. “You know I wanted you to get that job."

  “Eddie, she wants me to work Monday through Friday. I tried to get her to let me work Wednesday through Sunday so we would have two days off together, but she refused. I told her I'd have to talk to you about it."

  He released her and sat back down. “Go get me a beer, bitch."

  When she returned she knelt in front of him, pulled off his shoes and began to massage his feet. “I'm sorry, honey,” she said as she slipped the sock from his left foot. “I tried.” She held her breath against his foot odor and kissed his toes.

  “I need a bath,” he said and she dutifully went to the bathroom and started the water in the Whirl Pool. When he joined her she knelt beside the tub and began to bathe him gently.

  He said nothing as she ministered to him, but when she finished bathing his entire body, he asked, “Would it hurt your bottom too much to do your thing?"

  “It stung kinda bad when I took my shower, but I'll do it if you want me to.” She straddled him on her knees and soaped her body, just the way he liked. She could go no further, for he did not have an erection. “You are tired, Eddie,” she said as she leaned forward and pressed her soapy breasts against his hairy chest.

  He put his arms around her and stroked her back gently, an act she seldom experienced. “I'll get it up in a minute,” he said. “I humped that black waitress just before I came home and that fine little ass of hers wrung the snot out of my dick."

  That he was having sex with other women was no surprise to Greta, but she shuddered when she thought of the diseases she might catch from him.

  “I want you to take the job,” he said.

  She forced herself not to smile.

  “I want you to get in good with that family. Learn all you can about their habits. Be sure the boy comes to trust you completely. If the bitch wants you to kiss her ass, kiss it. If the husband wants you to blow him, pucker up.” He started laughing.

  “What's so funny?"

  “I just had a flash of Sandra Dollar's head between your legs and me bursting in with a camera. Boy, wouldn't that be poetic justice! And how about a snapshot of Tim humping you? Man, I'd have them in a hell of a vice then."

  He held her face with his hands and pushed her erect. “It may not work, but I know you remember how to get a trick interested in your body. I want you to do all you can to seduce both of them. After I've tormented them with the photos, then I'll snatch the kid."

  “You think Mrs. Dollar is a lesbian?"

  “Who knows?"

  “Eddie, that may take a while. I've never tried to get a woman in bed before."

  “Hell, when we talked about snatching Sandra you said you wanted a shot at her. Go for it, Greta. Get out those short skirts and tight blouses you used to wear, and leave off the underwear. Show ’em what you have to offer."

  “I'll ... I'll do my best,” she said reluctantly as she felt his penis growing.

  “I want you to start working for them tomorrow, Greta—the sooner the better. Get off me, bitch. We need to find a pay phone and let your new boss know you're taking the job."

  Greta slid to the end of the tub and rinsed the suds from her body. “Could we go to the Korner Kafe and let Mr. Bennett know I'm taking another job? He ain't gonna be too happy about it."

  Eddie struggled out of the tub and reached for a towel. “I warned him,” he said, “but you're right. I don't want to get him too pissed off. I need to keep that job until we have the Dollars’ money in our pockets."

  Greta got to her feet, but Eddie stoppe
d her. He reached into the medicine cabinet and handed her a safety razor. “Shave your legs,” he commanded, “from your ankles to your navel."

  “You want me to shave my..."

  “Yeah,” he interrupted. “It may be a turn-on for one or both of them. Hell, even if it isn't, I think I might like it."

  Reluctantly she took the razor from him, sat on the edge of the tub and soaped her left leg. She shaved her pubic hair once before when she was a teenager and painfully nicked her labia. She also remembered that it itched something awful when the hair began to grow out. If he insisted that she keep it shaved, maybe it was time for her to find out how to give herself a bikini wax.

  Chapter Eleven

  Leora hung up the telephone, reached for a cigarette and remembered. Will I ever get to the point I no longer want a smoke, she wondered? She unwrapped a piece of peppermint candy and popped it into her mouth. It wasn't a cigarette, but it would have to do.

  “Well, I have it,” Borders said as he entered the bedroom that also served as Leora's study.

  “Have what?"

  “My detective's license,” he said as he dropped a folder on her cluttered desk.

  “Why do you need a license?” she asked.

  “Old lady,” he smiled. “You are the one who wanted me to come out of retirement and work on the Elliott murders. Remember?"

  “Yes, but I didn't know you needed a license."

  “I don't, really, but I thought I might want to take on other cases on down the road. Besides, the license provides a nice ID,” he continued as he flipped open the folder and pointed. “You can flash that and get through some doors that would otherwise remain closed."

  She nodded as she glanced through the rather meaningless sheaf of papers.

  “The case has, for all practical purposes, come to a standstill. Since the only suspect was this Crow fellow, the boys put a twenty-four hour a day tail on him for a week. He seems to be squeaky clean. Doesn't do much but work at the Korner Kafe and sleep, it looks like."

  “I hear his wife is now working as the housekeeper and nanny for Sandra Dollar."

  “Oh? When did that happen?"

  “About the same time that Maggie Skinner went to work for the Dollars."

  “Yeah. I saw Maggie yesterday as I was coming home from playing golf. She was mowing the lawn and held the boy on her lap. It looked dangerous to me. Isn't the Crow woman a little, well, lacking in the brain department to be a nanny?"

  “She doesn't seem to be real bright, but it's none of our business."

  Borders nodded and picked up his folder. “You have those preacher pictures spread out again. Did you ever get one of Preacher Baxter?"

  “I haven't heard back from the seminary yet, but I have come up with some snapshots.” Leora shifted around some of the clutter on her desk and produced a half dozen photographs.

  Borders sifted through them. “All group shots. Which one is Baxter?"

  “He's the skinny dark haired guy."

  “Have you tried blowing up the photographs?"

  “Randy did. It loses so much definition when enlarged that the resulting image is useless."

  Borders nodded.

  “I heard a whale of a tale about Baxter this morning,” Leora said with her eyes twinkling.

  Borders sat on the bed. “From the look on your face, it must be juicy."

  Leora swiveled her chair to face her husband. “I talked a little bit with Mrs. Morgan while I was at the church this morning."

  “Who is Mrs. Morgan?"

  “Vera Morgan. She cleans houses for a living. She was working at the church this morning."

  “Oh, Widow Morgan—Billy's mother."

  “That's the one. She..."

  “That's a strange situation,” he interrupted.

  “What's a strange situation?"

  “That Billy Morgan. He works for Penny Swanson but lives with our next door neighbor. You think he's having sex with that crippled girl?"

  Leora's eyes twinkled again. “If he is, she's one lucky gal."

  “Why would you say that? Billy's bulb barely glows. Hell, he isn't as bright as the Crow woman."

  “Maybe not, old-timer, but he has a body like a Greek god."

  “Yeah, but I always thought there was more to sex than looks,” he mumbled.

  “I certainly hope so,” she laughed.

  “I interrupted you. What were you saying about the Widow Morgan?"

  “I asked her if she remembered Preacher Baxter. She said she did. I asked if she knew why he resigned and left town in such a hurry. She claimed it had something to do with Sandra Dollar."

  “Sandy?"

  “Vera said that just a couple of days before Baxter disappeared, she saw Sandy accompany him into the church study. Later, while she was cleaning the Sunday School classrooms in the basement under the study she heard sounds like they were having sex—rough sex."

  “Come on, now. Sandra Dollar having an affair with the preacher?"

  “Could be. Not all preachers are angels, you know. And Sandy is a sexy little thing."

  “Hey, I know more nasty preachers than honest ones,” Borders said. “I was thinking of Sandy. Tim's a good looking guy, and rich as hell. Sandy's no dummy. She wouldn't jeopardize her relationship with Tim for a roll in the hay with some sawed off preacher man."

  “Not necessarily true. Lust is a dangerous emotion. Maybe Tim was too tied up with his business interests to meet her needs."

  “I think it's a stretch, Leora. But then, if it did happen, maybe Tim found out and ran the preacher out of town with a shotgun."

  “I think I'll see what Sandy has to say about it."

  “Leora, for crying out loud. You'll either embarrass her or make an enemy. Even if the story is true, what difference does it make? Surely you would not include that in your book."

  “No, but like they say, curiosity killed the cat but satisfaction brought him back."

  “It's gossip, Leora—nothing but gossip. I strongly advise you to drop it."

  “Thanks for your opinion,” she said coldly, but then smiled. “You're entitled to your opinion and I'm entitled to the right opinion."

  He laughed, got up and kissed the top of her head. “Don't you know you are supposed to love, honor and obey your husband?"

  “I didn't think you were paying attention to Mack during the ceremony,” she joked. “I persuaded him to leave out the ‘obey’ part."

  He squeezed her breasts gently. “I wouldn't put it past you,” he laughed. “Listen, I don't smell any good aromas coming from the kitchen and I just don't care for a sandwich today. I'm going to grab a bite at Dot's Diner and go back to Charlotte. Now that I'm officially back in the business, I think the boys might let me have hard copy of everything they have on the Elliott case. I want to go over it carefully. Maybe we've missed something."

  She stood up and hugged him. “I'll go with you. I'm hungry too."

  * * * *

  Tim came through the front door sorting the day's mail. He put Sandra's on the hall table and headed towards his study. “Bills,” he muttered as he shuffled the dozen envelopes he held in his hands. “All I ever get is bills and junk mail.” He glanced in the library—Sandra's study—and smiled at Leora who was sitting across from Sandra at the mahogany table.

  “Hello, Mrs. Borders,” he said. “I didn't know you were here."

  “Hello yourself,” the white-haired lady responded. “I haven't seen you in a long while."

  “Busy, busy, busy,” he laughed.

  “I just stopped by to discuss the church history with Sandy."

  “How's it going?” he asked.

  “I'm almost through with the first draft,” she replied. “I just have a few loose ends to tie up."

  Tim noted the irritated look on Sandy's face. She seemed to get irritated with him frequently these days. “I'll get out of your way and let you ladies go back to it,” he said. “Sorry I interrupted. Nice to see you again, Leora."

 
“Nice to see you, Tim."

  His eyes returned to the envelopes in his hand, but he stopped dead in his tracks when he went through the open study door. Greta was dusting his desk; her back turned to him. She must not have heard me come in, he thought as he watched the voluptuous woman bend over the desk to dust the far side. He felt arousal building as he watched the hem of her dress ride up and stop just above her anus.

  He swallowed and glanced back at the empty hallway. Quietly he closed the door and turned the lock. His mouth parted as he watched her bottom sway in counter motion to the movement of the dust cloth in her hand. The flesh on her upper thighs was very white, but her buttocks were badly bruised—almost black. As she stretched the cloth to reach further to her right, she parted her feet a little. His erection started pounding as he stared at the hairless lips of her vulva.

  Quietly he placed his mail on the lamp stand and moved across the carpet to a position directly behind her. Softly he said, “If you are going to wear miniskirts, you should also wear panties."

  “Oh,” she said, feigning surprise and flattening her breasts against his desk. “You startled me."

  “How did your bottom get so bruised?"

  She pretended to cry. “I'm sorry you saw that. Eddie ... he ... he gets his kicks out of hurting me."

  “Bastard,” Tim said as he lifted her skirt higher, leaving her naked from the waist down. “He should treat a beautiful woman like you gently, like this.” He placed his fingertips on the cheeks of her swollen bottom, leaned over and kissed the nape of her neck as she moaned softly.

  * * * *

  “No,” Sandra laughed stiffly. “Of course I met him, but I didn't know John Baxter. He left town right after we arrived."

  “My source tells me that you met with him one day in his study."

  “I did. As I said, Tim and I had just arrived in Dot. At first we did not plan to stay, but when we changed our minds, I talked with Rev. Baxter about joining the church."

  “My source tells me that the very next day you left Dot and did not return until after Baxter disappeared."