The Color of Sin

by Paul Westwood

  Chapter 4

  Leo had the looks of a simple country doctor – with the ever-present black suit and impeccable bedside manner – but he had lost his license quite a number of years ago. Now he peddled pills to junkies, gave supposed vitamin shots to recovering alcoholics, and treated those too afraid to visit the hospital. It was a flourishing business being the medical man of the underworld. He could, however, be counted on keeping his mouth shut. I did not know who Pauline was or what she did for a living, so I did not dare to take a gamble with her reputation by taking her to a hospital.

  He came within the hour. I buzzed the front entrance to let him in. When I answered the door, I saw a shorty dumpy man in a dark pinstripe suit. He was tired and his skin was an unhealthy gray. Except for a low horseshoe of snowy white hair, his head was bald. The nose was bent at an angle, and the gray eyes were slightly off-center. He was carrying a black leather bag that looked almost as beaten as the owner.

  Leo immediately asked, “Where is she?”

  “In the office. Second door on the left.”

  Without a further word, he disappeared down the hallway. I continued cleaning; loading the dishwasher, picking up the bottles, and emptying the ashtrays. The air conditioning was on high in an attempt to circulate the unpleasant odors out. I noticed, with some despair, that the wood on the antique coffee table now had several water rings and a single burn mark from an errant cigarette. The whole top would have to be refinished. I wondered if Pauline could also be fixed. Her scars ran much deeper and weren’t only physical.

  By the time Leo came out I was almost finished. He looked angry. If he was a younger man, I think he would have taken a swing at me.

  “What in the hell did you do to that poor girl?”

  “You know me better than that, Doc,” I replied.

  “Don’t call me that. So it wasn’t you?”

  “Of course not. But I’m on the trail of the man who hurt her. What’s the prognosis?”

  “She’s a wreck. She hasn’t been feeding herself, at least not with food. It’s been all booze. I gave her a shot of vitamins, so that should help. She still needs something substantial to eat. As for her mental state, she’s damaged goods. I saw marks on her wrists and throat. Her back was covered with bruises as if someone had been beating her.” He looked over the richly furnished living room and attached kitchen. “She doesn’t strike me as the sort who is into the kinky lifestyle.”

  “You never can tell with the wealthy. What do I need to do?”

  “Food and rest is the first thing. And for God’s sake, keep her away from the bottle so she’ll have a chance to recover. I’ll give you some Valium. Give her one of these pills four times a day. With any luck, she won’t have to spend time at the funny farm.”

  “I can do that. How much do I owe you?”

  “For the house call and pills, an even two-hundred dollars will do.”

  I pulled out my wallet and dug out the money he requested. I handed the bills over.

  “Good old Dev, the man who always pays without complaint.”

  “It is a good way to buy some loyalty and even a little secrecy. I would prefer if you didn’t go spreading her condition around to the folks that you and I both know.”

  He looked shocked that I would even make the suggestion. “You know that if I went squealing every time I went to help a patient out, I wouldn’t be long for this world. I’ve got a reputation to keep.”

  “I know it, but I just wanted to hear it.”

  He rummaged through his case and brought out a bottle of pills - most likely stolen – and handed them to me. “I’ll stop by tomorrow night to check up on her. If you had any sense you would take her to a hospital.”

  “It’s a damn shame you lost your license, Doc. You must have been one hell of a physician.”

  He stiffened. “My only fault was caring too much for my patients. I cannot stand to see someone suffer. They thought I was too easy with my prescription pad, handing out pain pills. Those damn bureaucratic fools.”

  I showed Leo to the door. “You’re alright by me,” I said.

  “Thank you.”

  After he left, I grabbed a pill and filled a clean glass with water. I went to the office to look in on my patient. She was still awake, but still exhausted and wrung out. At least now I could see some color on her cheeks. She was out of her dress and was now wearing a t-shirt. I didn’t know what else was on under the blanket.

  “How are you doing?” I asked.

  Pauline answered, “I feel like hell. Who was that doctor?”

  “Leo is just a friend of mine.” I didn’t mention that he really wasn’t a doctor, at least not legally.

  “He seemed nice.”

  “Good manners. You’re supposed to take this pill every few hours. Can you sit up?”

  Like an obedient child she did as I requested, taking the pill and swallowing it with a gulp of water. Afterward she sunk back to the floor.

  “Are you comfortable?” I asked as I took the glass from her hand.

  Pauline nodded sleepily.

  “You can move to the bedroom if you want. I put clean sheets on the bed.”

  This time the reaction was more violent. Her eyes opened wide and her breathing became labored. “No, don’t make me. I can’t go in there.”

  “Now there is nothing to worry about,” I hushed her. “You can stay right where you’re at. Go ahead and get some more sleep. We’ll talk later.”

  The emotions drained out of her. “Mmmkay,” she answered sleepily.

  I turned the lights off and gently shut the door. I waited for a few minutes more and then, after pocketing the keys, rode the elevator down to the lobby. I gave a friendly wave to another resident coming in. Outside I started walking, heading toward my Impala. It was still in the same spot that I had left it. By then evening was coming on strong. The sun was a glowing red orb pressed tight against the horizon. The air was dry and the sky was clear. I got inside the car and drove to the nearest supermarket to stock up on supplies. I bought some steak, eggs, bacon, a bottle of red wine, plenty of fresh vegetables, heavy cream, and some good cheese.

  By the time I was finished at the store, the sun was gone and the moon was out. The distant blaze of the neon lights downtown had washed out the stars, making the night sky look empty and friendless. It seemed like a month had gone by since Keith Miller had entered my life. I wondered how long he would have a hold on Pauline. I drove slowly back, feeling ashamed of the human race - so much good and so much evil.

  Outside Eastgate I parked on the street. The car could stay there until the morning, but after that, it would be easy prey for the Vegas Parking Enforcement, an arm of the city government that was more feared than the police. If they towed your vehicle away, it would take an army of lawyers to pry it loose. It was just another friendly service provided by the local crime syndicate currently installed in the mayor’s office. Perhaps I was being cynical.

  When I entered Pauline’s condominium, everything was quiet. I went to the office door and opened it. To my relief she was still sleeping peacefully; breathing with deep, peaceful regularity. I felt as if I was looking after a newborn that needed protection from the cruelty of the world.

  After I shut the door, I went to kitchen and started cooking. There was a nice gas oven and I found a stainless steel pan. I fried up a thick sirloin and two eggs. A dash of salt and some pepper made the whole meal go down a lot easier. To treat myself, I allowed myself a single glass of wine. I then sat on the sofa and turned on the television. Cable always bored me silly, but without my stereo and records, I felt like there was very little to do. So after numbly watching a documentary on the Vietnam War, I shut of the TV and then all of the lights. I went to the bathroom, used the mouthwash, and then returned to the sofa to lie down.

  I stripped down to my t-shirt and boxers. In the darkness I rested on my back and lis
tened to the whir of the air conditioning. I was still keyed up. I thought I could never sleep again. The glow of the street lights behind the shut curtains seemed too bright. I wanted to curse the inventor of the light bulb. My world, however, finally slipped into darkness and I fell into a dreamless sleep.

  I heard a moan and then a cry of pain. I couldn’t figure out where I was. My eyes opened but I could see nothing but darkness. Twisting my head, I saw the distant digits of the microwave clock in the kitchen. It was three in the morning. I remembered where I was and who was making that noise. Groggily, I pulled myself up off of the sofa and staggered toward the office.

  Pauline was still inside the room, turning over restlessly as if stuck in a nightmare world. In the gloom, I got down on my knees and shook her shoulders. She finally awoke with a start and began to cry. I wrapped my arms around her shoulders and held her until the sobbing began to abate.

  “Come on,” I said as I helped her up. “Let’s go find you something to eat.”

  Pauline let me lead her to the little dining table next to the kitchen. She sat down at the chair. I turned on the overhead light and saw that, in addition to the t-shirt, she was wearing a pair of white cotton panties. I had a flashback to Cleora’s act at the Pussycat. I felt momentarily guilty but reminded myself that I had seen women in various states of undress before. She looked too frail and hurt to lust after.

  As Pauline quietly sat there, I went to the kitchen and began to whip up some quick and dirty scrambled eggs. When I was done, I placed the food in front of her along with a tall glass of ice water. She just stared at the eggs like she had never seen food before.

  “Can I have a drink?” she asked with an unmistakable alcoholic hunger.

  “Maybe a small one, but you’ll have to eat something first.”

  As Pauline began to pick at the eggs, I sat down across from her to watch. She looked uncomfortable by the attention, so I began to ramble on about the best way to prepare omelets: without any milk and the use of chopsticks to keep the eggs from sticking to the bottom of the Teflon-coated pan. She didn’t seem to care for that information – she was still too damaged inside to think about trivial matters. To her the world was now a place with unknown dangers and men who could not be trusted. Perhaps I was one of those men – she didn’t know yet.

  When she had finished half of the scrambled eggs, she gave up eating. The water remained untouched. “Where is my drink?” she asked, the eyes pleading.

  “Maybe later. I want you to have some water first.”

  I might as well have suggested that she drink poison. Pauline pushed the glass away. “I need a drink. A beer or maybe some whiskey. Just a little will help.”

  “I’ll compromise with you.” I picked the glass off of the table and carried it into the kitchen. I went to the refrigerator and took out the bottle of wine. I poured a few ounces into the water. When I returned with this concoction, she looked aghast at the waste of perfectly good alcohol. But like any drunk, she took what she could get and quaffed down the liquid until there was nothing left but two lonely ice cubes.

  “Just who are you?” she asked as she peered over the lip of the glass.

  “I’ve already told you. I’m Devon.”

  “But what are you doing here? Why are you playing nursemaid to a nasty little bitch like me?”

  “Maybe I enjoy the company.”

  “Down in the parking lot, you said something about Keith. Are you a friend of his?”

  “Do I look and act like a friend of his? I don’t usually associate with bullies. Let’s just say that I’m working for someone who he double-crossed. What did he do to you?”

  Pauline grew silent, not meeting my gaze. After a few moments, the words came spilling out. “I got this place in the divorce settlement. My ex-husband, Robert, is a vice-president at a marketing company. It meant big money and long hours. We should have never gotten married but we were young kids in love. Only after a few years of unhappily married disaster did I realize it was a mistake. Or should I say that we both realized it was a mistake. The divorce was amiable enough. I got this place. He stayed out in Los Angeles at our house in Beverly Hills. He’s already shacked up with a new love, some woman who he works with. I’m sure they spend their days talking about the job – a perfect match.” She gave me a bitter smile. “I guess I sound like a bitch but that’s how I feel. Anyway, it was only after the divorce that I realized I had no friends left here and a family that lives way back in Maryland.”

  “You could always go back to your parents.”

  She shook her head. “My dad died three years ago. My mother is living with my sister Beth, who has a house packed full of kids and a husband, when I’m there, who spends his time ogling me. It’s not quite the place I want to go back to. I wanted to become my own woman, but everything has gone to hell.”

  “Just tough luck.”

  “Or perhaps I just don’t know how to handle the real world. You won’t believe it but I’m shy. I don’t get people and I get a little scared when I’m around them, like I’m missing the social cues. It wasn’t so bad in high school and college. At least back then it seemed like people wanted to be friendly. Now I’m not so sure. Perhaps I’m out of practice.”

  “It doesn’t get any easier with age,” I commented.

  “So I moved here to Vegas with my tail between my legs, hoping to make a new start. Robert had a gambling addiction – Blackjack and Texas Hold ‘Em – so this condominium made a good second home for him. Me? I never exactly loved the place but now I hate it.”

  “Because of Keith?”

  Pauline chewed on her bottom lip. “I was lonely when I came to Vegas. I don’t know anyone in the building and I don’t have any friends here. I mean Robert and I would come here for the weekend with the people we knew in Los Angeles. So after the divorce was finalized, I started going out to the casinos. I met a number of men, most who just wanted to get in my pants. They were clumsy in their advances. It was kind of sweet but not the relationship I wanted after my marriage ended. But when I ran into Keith, he knew how to play me like a fool. I’m paying for that decision. I’ll always be paying for it.” The last couple of words came out as a sob.

  I could tell she was getting tired. But at least she was talking now. That was better than the breakdown of yesterday. However I knew that the worst of her story was yet to come. She could save it for another time.

  “Let’s get you back to bed,” I suggested.

  “Okay,” she agreed meekly.

  Taking her hand, I led Pauline back to the office. She was unsteady on her feet as if our conversation had drained all the energy out of her. But she was a tough kid. Without a word of protest, she slumped on top of the blanket and was asleep within seconds. Leaving the door open, I shut off all the lights and returned to the sofa.

  Finding sleep was going to be difficult. As I listened to the creaks and unknown sounds of the building, I thought of what she said. She was a stranger in town, vulnerable to the right monster that happened to come along in the form of Keith Miller. He was the type with an unnatural gift could pick up on a woman in a weakened state; easy prey because of their insecurities. I wondered how many others had fallen under his evil spell. I drifted off to sleep. My dreams were unpleasant, filled with ominous meanings, missing friends, and dark, hidden places.

  I awoke to the smell of coffee and the smell of frying eggs. Opening my eyes I saw Pauline in the kitchen. She had a big artificial smile plastered on her face and was standing over the stove with a spatula in hand. She was wearing a gown this time, all shimmering blue silk that hinted at her feminine curves. It was then that I noticed the empty bottle of wine by the sink. I had been a fool not to dump it down the drain.

  “Good morning, Devon,” she said brightly once she notice that I was moving around.

  “I suppose it is,” I said angrily, “especially if you’
ve had a few drinks. You shouldn’t have done that.”

  The spatula in her hand fell and clattered on the floor. Her eyes grew wet with tears and the skin on her face turned pale. She then turned and ran out of the room and disappeared down the hallway. I felt ashamed of myself for snapping at her, but last night I had been so happy with her progress. To see it tossed away like that meant we still had a long way to go before she could function alone on her own.

  I finished cooking the eggs and also added on a few slices of bacon. I threw this on a plate and set it on the table. I then headed toward the office. She was lying on the floor face down. The sobs were audible.

  “I finished making the breakfast. You had better eat it before it gets cold.”

  “I can’t do anything right,” she said with ragged breaths. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sorry too. But you have to eat. You have to stay sober. Now move it.”

  She pushed herself off the ground. With dejected shoulders, she brushed past me and went to the kitchen. I gave her another Valium with a glass of water. Once I saw she was eating, I went to the bathroom and showered. The hot water made me feel a little bit better, but I knew I had still had a long day in front of me. But I reminded myself that it could only get better. We had already hit the bottom.

  When I was done, I stepped out and grabbed the towel. It was then that I noticed the bathroom door, that I hadn’t bothered to lock, was open. Pauline was standing there, staring into my eyes. She didn’t seem to notice that I wasn’t wearing anything. I felt distinctly vulnerable; not a situation I particularly liked.

  She said, “I just wanted to tell you that I’m not going to drink anymore. You’re right. I won’t do it again.” She sounded more like a chastened child than an adult. It was unsettling.

  “Don’t let it worry you,” I said as I wrapped the towel around my waist.

  “If there is anything else you want me to do, I’ll gladly help you.” She gave me an unpleasant leer that reminded me of a storefront mannequin; all hard eyes and plastic manners.

  “Not right now. I want you to get in that shower and wash.”

  With a slow movement, Pauline reached for some hidden catch on the neck of the gown. The blue material made a slithering noise as the gown dropped to the floor. She was wearing nothing underneath. A glance and I saw that her body looked good but a tad puffy, the effect of too many bad calories from the weeks of boozing. But still, it took a lot of willpower to keep my gaze locked on those lovely green eyes. I reached into the shower stall, started the water and adjusted the knob until the water was good and warm. I then took her by the arm and steered her into the watery blast. She let out a gasp. I turned my back and angrily walked out of the room, cursing myself for getting involved with this woman.

  When she came out of the bathroom and joined me on the sofa, Pauline was wearing the gown again. Her hair was wet and her skin was scrubbed to a healthy pink. Her attitude was also uncertain, doing anything but meeting my searching gaze.

  “Don’t you like me?” she finally asked after wedging herself into the corner of the cushion.

  “Of course I do,” I replied. “But let’s not play these sorts of games right now. You have to get better first. You have to let go of those bad memories before you can go out and make some good ones. If we do anything together right now, it will only be tainted by Keith. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”

  She shook her head. “So what are we going to do in the meanwhile?”

  “You are going to do nothing. You can watch some television. And then you can eat lunch. After that you are going to take a nap. And then Leo is going to come by and tell me what I should do with you. Okay?”

  She nodded. The fight was out of her – for now.

  The rest of the day was spent in a sort of lazy rainy day way. With the blinds shut and the air conditioning on, that condominium was like a space capsule floating in the middle of nowhere. We ate and we talked of nothing important. I went over the emails on the laptop, delving as far back as I could, searching for clues for the source of Bill Kinney’s money. I found nothing new. Pauline watched some old movies on cable, her attention barely held by the black and white images. She slept and dozed, and ate the food that I put in front of her; whiling the minutes away until the sun went down.

  After supper, the intercom buzzer went off. It was Leo. I let him in and waited impatiently until he knocked on the door. I let him in.

  “How’s the patient?” he asked.

  “Watching television,” I replied. The low murmur of canned voices could be heard coming from the living room. “Pauline is doing better. No hysterics. She seems to have taken a real liking to me.” I filled him in on the bottle of wine and the sexual offer.

  He gave this thought and then said, “She’s had one hell of a shock. It’s only natural that she has come to depend on you.”

  I pointed to the direction of the bedroom. “Something terrible went on in here. She hasn’t talked about it yet, but I can feel her leading up to it.”

  The old doctor sadly shook his head. “I’ve seen many evil things in my time – rape and torture only being slightly less worse than death. Pauline is showing the classic symptoms of having been violated in a terrible way.”

  “Should I take her to get professional help? Like a mental hospital?”

  “That depends on you, my friend. Are you trying to get rid of her or help her? If it is the latter, then I would say stick by her side. You can see her through this spell better than any psychiatrist. She needs to get this experience behind her, not to be examined or poked through at every angle by some tin god who has never seen life outside of a college campus. You are the best chance she has of returning to normal.”

  “I was thinking of taking her out of this place and over to my apartment.”

  “I agree that would be for the best. For her there are too many bad memories here. Let her talk. Let her get this brute out of her system. But let me warn you, it will take some considerable time.”

  “I know,” I said with resignation.