Louisiana Stalker

by J. R. Roberts

  “Where’s our other guest?” she asked her husband. “Mr. . . .”

  “Smith,” Cooper said. “He said he’d be coming down.”

  “Maybe you should go and tell him that the food is ready,” she said. “And then help me in the kitchen with the rest of the food.”

  “I can do that,” Clint said. “I can go and get him. Just tell me what room he’s in.”

  “Why, that’s right nice of you,” Cooper said. “He’s in room five.”

  They were in rooms nine and ten.

  Clint stood up.

  “I’ll go get him and be right back.”

  He left the dining room and went back up the stairs, then walked to room five and knocked.

  “Mr. Smith, the food is ready,” Clint said. “Our hosts would like you to come down.”

  No answer.

  He knocked again.

  “Mr. Smith?”

  Nothing.

  He tried the doorknob and found the door unlocked. He opened it and went in.

  There was a man lying on the bed.

  “Smith?”

  He walked to the bed. The man looked like he was asleep, except for the bullet wound in his chest. Clint checked his pulse, found none. He was very dead.

  Clint wet through his pockets, then saw his saddlebags hanging on the back of a chair. He walked over and went through them both. In the second one he found a letter addressed to Lee Keller.

  If Keller had killed the other stalker, who had killed Keller? And how had Keller known where they were going, so he could get there ahead of them?

  Clint looked around for a weapon, a gun or a knife, and found none. He put Keller’s letter in his pocket, and withdrew from the room.

  He walked down the hall, started down the stairs, and then stopped. There were five people in the house that he knew of, and he knew that three of them hadn’t killed Keller.

  That left the innkeeper and the innkeeper’s wife.

  He went down the stairs slowly, his hand on the butt of his gun, even though he knew he probably wouldn’t get the chance to use it.

  As he entered the dining room, he saw that Milly Cooper was holding a gun on Cappy, while her husband was holding a gun on Clint as he entered the room.

  “I know who you are, Mr. Adams, and I know what you can do with a gun. You can probably draw and kill me before I could shoot you. But then my wife would kill the lady.”

  “I get it.”

  “I’m going to come over and take your gun from your holster. Please don’t try anything.”

  “I won’t.”

  Cooper approached Clint, who could see that the man’s hand was shaking. On the other hand, his wife’s hand was rock solid.

  The man took his gun from his holster and scampered back, tucking it into his belt.

  “Now what?” Clint asked

  “Now you do what you were going to do,” the man said. “Eat. My wife is a very good cook. Sit.”

  Clint sat at the table, wondering if Cappy had put her gun in her bag. She was sitting directly across from him.

  “Dig in,” Milly Cooper said.

  “What about you two?” Clint asked.

  “Oh, we ate while we were waiting for you to get here,” Cooper said.

  Clint looked at Cappy and Henri.

  “We might as well eat.”

  “I am hungry,” Cappy admitted.

  “Me, too,” Henri said.

  “Let’s eat.”

  There were hunks of beef and pieces of chicken, along with large chunks of potatoes.

  “So tell me, Mr. Cooper,” Clint said, “which one of you killed Mr. Keller upstairs?”

  “Keller?” Cappy asked around a piece of chicken. “Dead?”

  “Shot.”

  “That was me,” Cooper said. “It was necessary, once he brought word that you were coming this way.”

  “So you and he work for the same man?”

  “That’s right.”

  “It must have been quite a shock when you shot him dead.”

  “You should have seen his face.”

  “And what happens after we’ve eaten?”

  “You go to your rooms,” Cooper said, “and you stay there.”

  “Until when?”

  “Until morning,” Milly Cooper said. “But first your lady, here, will help me clean up.”

  “Clean up?” Cappy asked, looking appalled.

  “Sure,” Milly said. “After all, it is women’s work, isn’t it?”

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  There was still more Clint needed to know, but the food was very good, and he was very hungry. So he waited until they were finished eating to ask.

  “Come with me, Mrs. Devereaux,” Milly said. “We’ll get the coffee.”

  Cappy stood up and started to walk toward the kitchen slowly.

  “Oh, no wait,” Milly said. “We can’t go to the kitchen without some plates.”

  “Plates?”

  “Let’s clear the table, ma’am,” Milly said.

  With a pained look, Cappy started collecting dirty plates and stacking them.

  “That’s good,” Milly said. “You’d make a good waitress.”

  “And you’re very pretty,” Cappy said. “You could come work for me.”

  “I’m afraid I’m not a dirty whore, Mrs. Devereaux,” Milly said. “Come along.”

  Milly and Cappy went into the kitchen, leaving Clint and Henri with Cooper.

  “What’s next?” Clint asked.

  “You folks will go to your rooms and get some sleep . . . or whatever you do.”

  “And in the morning?”

  “We’ll have breakfast,” Cooper said, “and then go from there.”

  “Go where?” Henri asked.

  “I’ll let you know tomorrow. Let’s go upstairs.”

  “I thought we were waiting for coffee,” Clint said.

  “Right you are,” Cooper said. “We’ll take you up after that.”

  Milly and Cappy returned with the coffee, and they sat and drank it while Cooper and his wife watched. While they were watching, husband and wife got together to have a conversation. They spoke low so that they couldn’t be overheard, but at one point they began to argue.

  “. . . not the way it’s supposed to be,” Cooper said to her.

  “Keep your voice down!” she hissed.

  “Don’t tell me . . .” he started, then stopped and lowered his voice. They continued on with their voices lowered.

  “All right,” Cooper said finally, “that’s enough coffee. Let’s go. Time for bed.”

  They slid their chairs back and stood up. Cappy looked at Milly, as if waiting for her to give her some orders, but the younger woman didn’t say anything.

  “Up,” Cooper said.

  Under Cooper’s gun they went up the stairs. First they stopped by Henri’s door.

  “Which of you is in here?” Cooper asked.

  “That’s Henri,” Clint said.

  “Inside,” Cooper said to Henri, gesturing with the gun.

  Henri looked at Clint, who nodded. The young man stepped inside and Cooper closed the door, locking it with a key.

  “All right, I assume you two are sharin’ a room?” he asked.

  “That’s right,” Clint said.

  “Then get on inside and get on with it,” Cooper said with a grin.

  Cappy went into the room. Clint started in, then stopped and turned to Cooper.

  “What do you want?” he asked.

  “I want you to get in your room.”

  “Is this place really yours?”

  “Sure it is. Why?”

  “I just thought maybe Pivot sent you here to wait for us.”

  Cooper hesitated, then said,
“Who?”

  “Jacq—”

  “Get inside!”

  Clint backed away, and Cooper slammed the door and locked it.

  Clint turned and saw Capucine sitting on the edge of the bed.

  “What’s going on?”

  “I’m figuring they work for Pivot,” Clint said. “Anybody wanting to go to Pivot’s house has to pass through here first. It makes sense.”

  “And Keller?” she asked. “Why kill him if they work for the same man?”

  “That I don’t know,” Clint said. “Somehow Keller figured out where we were going and got here first. He probably killed the man across from your house, and that man probably worked for Pivot. Maybe he wasn’t working for Pivot. Maybe he just got in the way.”

  “These people are going to kill us,” she said.

  “No, they’re not.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “Well, for one thing,” he said, “I’m not going to let them.”

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  “What about the other thing?” Cappy asked.

  “Your stalker never tried to kill you,” he said. “I don’t think that’s what’s going on here.”

  “So then what are they going to do? This man and his crazy bitch wife?”

  “Maybe,” Clint said, “they’ll take us to Jacques Pivot.”

  “But that’s what we want.”

  “Yes.”

  “You think they’ll give us what we want?”

  “If it’s also what they want.”

  She shook her head.

  “Now I’m confused.”

  Clint walked to the window. The rain was still coming down. He tried the window, found it locked. When he tried to open it, he couldn’t budge it. Somehow, it had been secured. He could have broken the window, but could Cappy have dropped down to the first floor? And what about Henri? They couldn’t leave him behind.

  “Are you thinking about going out the window?” she asked him.

  “I was,” he said, turning away from it, “but I’ve decided against it.”

  “Because of me?”

  “It’s just not a good idea.”

  “So what do we do?” she asked.

  “We go to sleep,” he said.

  “Sleep?” she asked. “How can I sleep with those crazy people running around with guns?”

  “They’re not running around,” he said. “One of them is probably on guard, and then other is asleep. And then they’ll switch.”

  “So we should wait until she’s on guard and make a move,” she said.

  “Why?”

  “Because she’ll be weaker.”

  “Are you sure you just don’t want a try at her because she made you clear the table?”

  “That, too,” Cappy said. “That crazy bitch made me make coffee.”

  “And it was terrible.”

  “What do you expect?” she asked. “I’ve never made coffee before.”

  • • •

  “I’ll take the first watch,” Milly said to her husband, coming up into the hall.

  “That’s all right,” Cooper said. “I’ll stay on watch all night.”

  “Don’t be an ass,” she told him. “At your age, you need your sleep.”

  “You’re always throwing my age in my face,” he said. “You didn’t seem to care how old I was when I took you off the streets of New Orleans.”

  “That’s because I didn’t know you were going to take me here, to this dump.”

  “Wouldn’t that lady laugh if she found out you really were a whore when I found you?”

  “Just go to sleep, Coop,” she said. She’d started calling him “Coop” when they met and continued it after they got married.

  “I see the way you’re lookin’ at that kid, Milly,” Cooper said. “Like a bitch in heat.”

  “I don’t have any interest in that kid, Coop,” she said. “You’re imagining it. Now tell me who’s in what room and go get some sleep!”

  “Bitch!” he said, but he answered her, then went downstairs, where their bedroom was.

  Milly turned and looked at the two locked doors. Wouldn’t her husband be surprised to find out which of the males she was really interested in?

  She reached into her jeans pocket for the key.

  • • •

  “So what do you say?” Cappy asked.

  He’d been giving the matter a lot of thought, and she was impatient.

  “We’d have to find out which one of them is out there first.”

  “Why don’t we just do what you said before, Clint?” she suggested.

  “What’s that?”

  She shrugged.

  “Let’s just ask.”

  “We’d have to knock and see who answers,” he said. “If it’s him, you’ll have to talk to him. If it’s her, I’ll have to do the talking.”

  “And then—”

  But before they could implement their plan, they heard a key in the lock.

  It looked like they were going to find out who was on guard sooner than they thought.

  THIRTY-NINE

  The door opened and they saw Milly standing in the hall. She pointed her gun at them.

  “Come on out, Adams,” she said.

  “What for?”

  “We need to talk.”

  “About what?” Cappy asked.

  “That’s none of your business, bitch,” Milly snapped at her.

  “Who are you calling a bi—”

  “Hold on,” Clint said. “If she wants to talk, maybe I should hear what she has to say.”

  “But Clint—”

  He placated Cappy with a hand gesture and said to Milly, “Okay, I’ll come along.”

  Milly backed away from the door and said, “Close and lock the door behind you.”

  Clint did as she asked, pulling the door closed and turning the key.

  “Remove the key from the lock.”

  He did.

  “Now come with me.”

  She backed her way down the hall, keeping the gun on him.

  “Where’s your husband?” he asked.

  “He went downstairs to go to bed,” she said. “He won’t be back up here for four hours.”

  “What are we going to do that will take four hours?” he asked.

  “You’ll see.” She stopped in front of a room, kept the gun on him, and opened it. “Inside.”

  He stepped inside. She kept her distance, or he would have tried to take the gun from her.

  It was another bedroom.

  “Put the key on the bed,” she said, closing the door.

  He did as she asked, tossed the key on the bed.

  “Grab that chair and put it in the middle of the room.”

  He grabbed the wooden chair, centered it, and sat down.

  “Now wha—” he started as she moved around him, but before he could finish, everything went black . . .

  • • •

  His head was pounding when he woke. He tried to reach up to touch it, but found that his hands were securely tied behind him, and his legs were tied to the chair legs. He also noticed that he was completely naked.

  “Welcome back,” Milly said.

  She was standing in front of him with no gun in her hand.

  “What’s going on, Milly?” he demanded. “Why am I tied up?”

  “Because I need to have my hands free,” she said. “I can’t do what I’m going to do with a gun in my hand.”

  “And what is it you have to do?” he asked.

  “I’m thirty years old,” she said.

  “You look younger.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “My husband is over sixty. He’s an old man.”

  “He looks pretty good for over sixty.”


  “That’s not the point,” she said. “He can’t give me what I want.” She walked up to him and stared down at his crotch. “You can.”

  “Oh, Milly,” he said, getting her meaning, “not under these conditions.”

  “You don’t think so?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “I know so.”

  She reached down and stroked his flaccid penis. Immediately, it jerked and began to swell. She took it in her hand and began to stroke it. It continued to harden, and she smiled.

  “See?”

  “Milly,” he said, “I’d be of much more use to you if my hands and feet were free.”

  She released his cock and said, “We’ll see.” She got down on her knees, put her hands on his thighs, and rubbed them. Then she ran her hands up over his chest. “You don’t know how wonderful it is to touch a man who is fit.”

  He was trying to think of something else, but then her hands were on his genitals again. With her left hand, she cupped his testicles. With her right hand, she stroked his cock again. Soon his erection was standing straight up.

  “My, my,” she said, gazing at it. Her eyes took on a glassy look.

  “Milly—” he said, but she wasn’t listening. In fact, he was sure she wouldn’t hear a word he was saying.

  She stood up and backed away, but only long enough to divest herself of her clothes. When she was naked, she put her hands on her hips and posed for him. She had a slender body with good, peach-sized breasts and smooth skin. There was a tangle of fair hair between her legs, and he could already smell her scent. His cock got even harder, damn it!

  “Don’t worry,” she said “I won’t hurt you.”

  FORTY

  Cappy was nervous.

  She didn’t know what was happening to Clint, didn’t know when he’d be back—or if he’d be back. She walked to the window and looked out at the rain. For a moment she thought she saw the stalker, but no. Clint said he was dead. Then she thought she saw someone—a figure, not blocky, but tall and slender.

  She stared, but the figure would not come into focus for her—and then it was gone.

  She turned away from the window, hugged herself, and bit her lip.

  • • •

  “Your woman,” Milly said, touching her breasts, “she’s not as young as me. Not as firm and smooth.”