Bunny Elder Adventure Series: Four Complete Novels: Hollow, Vain Pursuits, Seadrift, ...and Something Blue

by J. B. Hawker

Could Bob have been the one Eustace was counseling? Had Eustace known Bob was gay?

  Somehow, Bunny could not believe her own explanation for those pictures.

  In her heart, she knew Eustace was too vengeful and judgmental to provide counsel to anyone struggling with the temptations of pornography and homosexuality.

  Thinking about those magazines in his desk put his aversion to physical love into a completely new light for Bunny. If Eustace himself were secretly gay, then everything about their marriage made sense. Eustace had married her to provide himself with a cover.

  The more she thought about it, the more convinced she became and the stronger her shame grew at having lived such a lie for over twenty years.

  She remembered all she had done in the early years of their marriage to try to seduce her husband. She felt, again, her hurt and humiliation at his rejections. She sensed his disgust with her body and assumed it was because of her own failings and lack of sex appeal.

  She’d become convinced she was unattractive, undesirable and unfeminine, while all along...

  She gulped back bile, as feelings of violation and shame began to suffocate her and once puzzling scenes from her marriage flashed through her mind.

  Bunny walked stiffly into the bathroom, pulled off her clothes and turned on the shower.

  The cold water jolted her and she began to sob and gasp.

  The water turned warm and then hot while she scrubbed at herself with the soapy sponge. By the time the water turned cold again, she was weak and spent.

  Bunny dried herself, dressed carefully and sat for a few minutes on the side of her bed, catching her breath.

  When she felt slightly more normal, Bunny grabbed her old green anorak and went for a walk.

  She desperately needed some fresh air.

  The blustery winds had blown in gray clouds and a slight drizzle was falling, as Bunny set out.

  She walked rapidly, keeping pace with her furious thoughts, heedless of her surroundings.

  Stepping off the curb onto a mass of leaves in the gutter, her foot plunged into a deep pothole. Water filled her sneaker and the slimy leaves slipped out from under her.

  She managed to save herself from falling with a combination of improvised gymnastics that might have impressed an Olympic coach, and made her wish she had paid more attention in gym class.

  She glanced quickly around to see if there were any witnesses, then walked shakily over to a nearby bus stop and lowered herself to the damp seat of the slatted metal bench.

  She sat there, trembling slightly and feeling like an idiot, while taking a mental inventory of any lasting damage her gyrations might have caused.

  There was a tightness in her lower back hinting at pain to come, but there seemed to be no harm done, otherwise.

  She had been lucky.

  The strenuous physical activity had served to clear her mental confusion.

  Walking blindly before, she felt entangled in a muddle of humiliating images from her marriage, all seen from her new perspective on Eustace.

  She was focused on her shame from exposing herself to his contempt.

  Now, the paralyzing pain gave way to indignation and rage, as she saw how he had manipulated and exploited her.

  By nature, Bunny was not a violent person. Her instinct was always to pacify people and make the best of difficult situations.

  Right now, she wished Eustace were alive and within striking distance.

  A pleasing image entered into her mind of forcing his face down deeply into the pothole where she had taken her plunge, slimy leaves and all.

  She wanted to hurt him, as he had hurt her.

  Picturing Eustace with her foot on his neck, struggling to get out of the puddle and repeatedly splashing back in, made her laugh aloud. It broke the mood as the ridiculous image dissipated her fury.

  Noticing her damp jeans and soggy shoes, Bunny started walking back home.

  She felt like she had passed through some sort of trial and made it out the other side with her psyche intact.

  What Eustace had done to her was despicable and the hurt remained, but he would receive his justice at other hands than hers. She could let it go.

  The rain began falling harder as she approached her bungalow.

  Through her rain-streaked glasses, Bunny noticed a black car backing out of her driveway. She did not have to wipe them dry to have a good idea of who was driving. She hoped he would not notice her on the sidewalk.

  After all the events of the past few days, her defenses were unreliable.

  Max spied Bunny as he was backing out of her driveway. He had not expected her to be out and about so soon, but it was good to see she was alone and, apparently recovered from her ordeal.

  Banks parked and intercepted Bunny as she stepped onto her front porch.

  “Have you been walking or swimming? Why are you all wet?” he asked her.

  “It started raining while I was out walking. I didn’t think to take an umbrella...I’m surprised to see you here, after the way you left on Halloween,” Bunny could not resist adding.

  “Bunny, I’m sorry about that. I don’t know what got into me. I guess I was just having a bad day. Can we go inside? It’s still raining, in case you are too wet to notice.”

  Once inside, Bunny excused herself and went into her bedroom to change out of her wet things.

  She was buttoning an old plaid flannel shirt when Max came into the room.

  “Bunny, I am so sorry we quarreled the other night. I’ve missed you.”

  He pulled her into his arms, but Bunny put her hands on his chest and backed away.

  She walked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen.

  Max followed her.

  “Come on, Honey. Don’t be that way. I said I was sorry.”

  “I know that, Max. I appreciate your apology, but we’ve got to talk. We can’t talk in the bedroom.”

  “Can’t we talk later...after?” Max grinned as he spoke.

  That grin always got to Bunny and Max was completely aware of it.

  “Why do men always want to manipulate me?” she asked, more to herself than Max.

  “What are you talking about? Who’s trying to manipulate you into anything? You seemed to be plenty willing the other night,” Max spoke with irritation.

  “Bunny, I can’t keep up with you. You run hot one minute and cold the next. What gives? Are you having another attack of religion or something?” Max asked.

  “Would you like some tea, Max? Shall we drink it here in the kitchen or in by the fire?”

  Bunny spoke as if she didn’t hear his comments.

  Taking their cups into the living room, Bunny sat in her rocking chair and placed Max’s cup on the sofa table.

  She waited until he followed her and was sitting down, and then spoke.

  “Max...that is just what I wanted to talk with you about. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about us in the past few days.”

  “You said I seemed to be plenty willing, and that’s true. The chemistry between you and me is even stronger and hotter, for me, than when we were young. But we aren’t young, anymore. We have grown in different directions. We have different values and that’s where the ‘cold’ comes from. I can’t compromise my walk with God.”

  Bunny paused a moment to gather her thoughts.

  She wondered if she was throwing away her last chance at happiness.

  She and Max could be so good together. Couldn’t she be true to God in her heart and have Max, too?

  “It’s that ridiculous religion of yours and believing a book of fairy tales that have you all mixed up. Forget that B.S. and grow up, Bunny. You are an adult woman, I’m a man, and we can do what we want without worrying about pleasing some invisible old man in the sky!”

  Standing, he pulled her up and took her hand. Max pressed it against his chest as he went on.

  “I love you. I want to be with you. You can see me, and hear me, and touch me. Can your God make you cry out with pleas
ure the way I can? Can he?”

  He kissed her then, his intensity taking Bunny by surprise. She responded, in spite of herself.

  Murmuring, “God forgive me,” she allowed passion to consume her.

  While her body was replete and completely relaxed, her mind was frantically searching for answers...and excuses.

  How could something that made her feel so good be wrong? Would God have brought Max back into her life if He did not want them to be together? Maybe it was His plan for Bunny to lead Max to Christ through her love.

  Max dozed beside her, unaware of her internal struggles.

  Life was so simple for him. The only right or wrong was what felt good or bad to Max. No questions of morality or God’s plan or Christ’s Lordship, no hope of Heaven, nor fear of eternal separation from the love of God, hindered him in his quest for personal satisfaction.

  She almost wished she never found the Truth. Maybe that was what they meant by ignorance being bliss. But, oh, the terrible cost of that ignorance! To have no salvation, no grace, no hope of Glory, no Friend to turn to in prayer, no Bible as a guide.

  It was too big a price to pay.

  Bunny knew there could be no future for her with Max unless he came to Christ. She could not save him with her love. Christ had already done it.

  Only Max had to believe and accept it.

  She had no power to convince him of the truth of the Bible. She could see that. Her weakness in the face of temptation did not make her a very convincing evangelist.

  Conflicting desires tore at her in the common struggle of believers.

  Even the Apostle Paul bemoaned that he did not do what he wanted, but did what he tried not to do, instead.

  Maybe there was hope for her, after all.

  In spite of her anguished thoughts, she recognized making love with Max had healed some of the wounds caused by her revelations about Eustace.

  As this thought drifted through her mind, Max stirred and reached for her. She rolled into his arms.

  

  When they drove to work together on Monday morning, Bunny was no closer to resolving her dilemma. She knew exactly what she needed to do. She just could not bring herself to make the break.

  Her weakness frustrated and shamed her. She prayed for miraculous intervention, all the time believing God seldom does the work for us when we are perfectly capable of doing it ourselves.

  

  Max was a satisfied man. Sitting at his desk in the office, attending to some routine bookkeeping matters, he thought about the past twenty-four hours with pleasure.

  He assumed Bunny’s feeble attempt to break off with him would be the last he would have to hear about her pal in the clouds.

  If Bunny did bring it up in the future, he had a pretty good idea of how to change her mind. Thinking of some of those ways made him chuckle aloud.

  Bunny called from the outer office, “What’s so funny, Banks? This is a professional business office, you know.”

  “Come in here and I’ll show you what kind of business,” he called back, then rose from his desk and joined her.

  “Seriously, we need to talk,” he began.

  “I know we do. I’ve just been trying to avoid it,” Bunny replied sadly.

  “Nothing to be sad about, we just have to decide if we want to live in your house, my apartment or find someplace else to live together.”

  “But, that’s not wh...”

  The telephone rang as Bunny was speaking.

  Max held up his hand to silence Bunny and snatched it up.

  “Clarion Review, Banks here.....really? That’s great. Thanks, Larry, I owe you one.”

  Max turned to Bunny.

  “The Sheriff’s Office located Bob Miller’s car. They found it in a gully just off Watson Road on the way to the landfill.”

  “I’m going over there to see if I can get something for this week’s edition. Take care of things here. We can get the housing issues straightened out this evening.”

  “Well,” Bunny thought after he left, “I wanted the Lord to intervene and it looks like he has. There is no way I am going to move in with Max outside of marriage and, even if he proposed, I could never marry a non-believer. The Lord, through Max, is forcing me to take a stand. Answered prayers aren’t always what they are cracked up to be.”

  

  A couple of gold and white sheriff’s units and a tow truck were parked off the road just where his friend, Larry, said they would be.

  Max pulled onto the shoulder twenty yards back and walked over to the nearest deputy.

  “I got a tip Bob Miller’s car turned up. Is it down that ravine?”

  “Yeah, looks like it. His briefcase and some accounting stuff were in it, along with a squirrel’s nest and a few mice. The windows were down and it looks like it’s been here a week or so.”

  “What can I put in the paper?” Max asked.

  “Ask the Sheriff. He’s up there talking to the tow truck driver.”

  The deputy pointed to a heavyset man who was haranguing a smaller, younger man standing beside the truck.

  Max recognized the sheriff.

  He walked over to the men just as the sheriff said, “I don’t care what it takes. I want that car out of there and onto a flatbed, pronto. You got that?”

  The younger man unhappily returned to the cab of his truck and began to speak into a radio mounted on the dash.

  “Kids! They see a little problem and they want to give up. No gumption, I’m thinking.”

  Sheriff Williams turned to Max.

  “You didn’t waste any time getting here, Banks. How’d you know what was going on?”

  “I got a tip from an anonymous concerned, citizen, of course,” Max replied.

  “Got a relative on the force, eh? Small towns are all alike. Well, no harm done. There’s no secret here. Miller’s car was driven off the road into this ditch, probably by the killer. We are hoping he left a memento of himself in the vehicle. We won’t know, however, until this idiot hauls the car over to the impound lot where we can go over it.”

  The Sheriff walked over to the tow truck and spoke once more with the driver.

  Banks walked over to the edge of the gully and took a few pictures for the front page.

  Finding the car would be their lead story this week. He wondered if it would provide any clues to the killer.

  

  Detective Fuchs was reading the report of the results of the search of Bob Miller’s home.

  He was grimly satisfied. It looked like his hunch was right, after all.

  A search of Miller’s computer and videos turned up an extensive collection of homosexually oriented pornographic photos and movies.

  It was more than enough to convince Fuchs the sign on Miller’s body was, indeed, intended to “out” the dead man.

  It seemed Miller went to great lengths to hide his sexual orientation.

  Interviews with friends and coworkers had not come across any hints anyone suspected the man was gay.

  Ironically, only the pastor’s widow seemed to have given it a thought. These church folks were often the most nasty-minded people around. Always on the lookout for sin to condemn, he supposed.

  Well, she was right about this one, although being a closet gay hardly provided a reason to kill and mutilate the guy.

  Fuchs did not think Mrs. Elder had anything to do with the murder, of course, although she did keep turning up where the bodies did.

  Maybe he should have a talk with her. It was possible she knew more than she was telling about the victims, or their killer.

  If the Thomas investigation got stuck, maybe they would get a break with Miller. There might even be something helpful in the vehicle they had just found.

  Foxy still had high hopes for Simpson, too, even though the man hadn’t turned up anything useful, yet.

  

  Robert Simpson walked into the dark, beery interior of the Oasis Club.

  In spite of California’s la
ws prohibiting smoking in all public places, even bars, the club seemed filled with a smoky haze, as though the cheap paneling had absorbed so much smoke in its time it gave off vapors of its own.

  When his eyes adjusted to the gloom, Robb nodded to the man behind the bar and walked to one of the red vinyl booths in the back.

  He was soon joined by the bartender, bringing him the special microbrew that in only a few days had become his “usual.”

  Simpson was a tall, thin man in his late thirties, with a shaved head, a carefully trimmed mustache and one gold earring. He was compellingly handsome, with clear gray eyes giving him an open, friendly appearance which attracted men and women of all ages. Only the earring and his slightly too well coordinated clothing gave any hint he was gay.

  Another man emerged from the shadows on the far side of the bar, looked around nonchalantly and then strolled over to Simpson’s booth.

  He slid onto the bench opposite Simpson.

  “Well, I see you are still hanging around God’s Country. What are you finding to do in this dead-end hole, anyway?”

  “Hi, Nathan. I thought I might see you in here today. Whatcha got going on? If I don’t find something interesting around here pretty soon, I’m heading home to LA and my old auntie can celebrate her 90th birthday without me.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that. I’ve got old aunties of my own, and I feel sorry for you, believe me. You deserve a medal for coming all this way and hanging around for the old dear’s party. You in the will, or what?”

  Robb chuckled.

  “No fear on that score. She might be leaving me her cat, if it doesn’t croak first, though.”

  “So, you don’t have anything special on for today, then?” Nathan asked.

  “I thought I might have another beer and watch the paint peel off the bar, if I can stand the excitement. Otherwise, my dance card is empty.”

  “Dance card, eh? Funny you should say that...I was thinking maybe you might be up for a tango or two.”

  Nathan, cheeks flushed, watched Robb carefully as he spoke.

  “You a good dancer? That could be fun, if you are. I wouldn’t want you stepping on my feet, now. I’m not into pain.”