Blood Appeal

by Lyle O'Connor

  The prompt to look deeper at Duke’s behavior was still with me. My Palatini oath had defined my mission to protect the weak and avenge the victims. Minnie was one of the weak that I’d sworn to protect. But was Minnie an easy excuse to knock Duke around because I didn’t like the guy? I needed my Palatini oath to be my guide not my emotions. He wasn’t a human trafficker or a pervert that needed killing. He wasn’t like the types I’d taken out in the past. It didn’t seem right; yet, it didn’t feel wrong either.

  Chapter 3

  “We the unappreciated must do the unimaginable, to protect the ungrateful.”

  —Unknown

  On my return, crossing over Table Rock Lake, I soon pulled into the resort’s graveled parking lot. Joyce was waiting on the porch with arms crossed. Not a good sign. My steps were brisk to the foot of the stairs. “Sorry, it took longer than I’d anticipated.”

  “You missed Duke.”

  “I’ll never miss Duke,” I smirked as I said it, but Joyce remained gloomy. “Okay, what did I miss?”

  Two things I didn’t like, Duke showing up at the resort unannounced and Duke turning up when I wasn’t home. Home? This wasn’t my home, so why did the thought pop into my head? A Freudian slip in my thinking? I wasn’t sure, but the thought bothered me. I wasn’t naïve. Joyce was a big girl and capable of taking care of herself, but she was buying into the deception that their relationship was strictly platonic as he insisted. And then again, perhaps I was naïve. Feelings from the past might be the reason she hadn’t told him not to come around without Minnie. I didn’t think so, but perhaps my thinking was a bit short on logic at the moment. Was I jealous? Apparently so—another thought that bothered me.

  “He wants us to come to his place later this afternoon to visit. I said okay but, I let him know the final word was yours. I hope that’s all right with you.”

  Joyce wasn’t the shy type. She was forthcoming when she had something to say. This time, she wasn’t saying boo. My thoughts shot off in a half-dozen different directions. If Duke had tried something I wouldn’t like, she’d hesitate to tell me. The only way I’d get it out of her was to ask politely and then not overreact. The reaction could wait for a proper time and place.

  I climbed the steps to where Joyce stood with arms folded across her chest. I wrapped my arms around her. The warm embrace calmed her fears. “It’s okay sweetie. He wants something; let’s find out what it is.”

  She nodded, wiped away a tear and said, “He’s such a phony. I don’t know what I ever saw in him.” My concern lessened at Joyce’s words. Duke tried to backdoor me, and Joyce slammed the door on his face. There was a light at the end of the tunnel for her and maybe Minnie too.

  A three-thirty departure time would put us at Dixon Holler by four in the afternoon. I had an hour to kill before we took off. I kicked back lakeside to watch the fish jump for insects. Life was pretty exciting around Shell Knob, right on par with watching tomato plants grow. From a personal perspective, it was more relaxing than entertaining. I propped up my lawn chair and dozed off and on while I basked in the sun’s intermittent rays. Clouds had begun to form on the horizon. It looked like we might be in for a storm.

  My peace and quiet didn’t last long. I’d placed my Palatini cell phone on vibrate, and now it danced in my pocket. All Palatini operatives changed phones regularly for security measures. Consequently all calls came up the same, “Unknown.”

  “Yes.”

  “Hi, Walter, is now a good time to talk?” Anna’s voice was unmistakable. Her pleasant tone that I’d so frequently enjoyed resonated in my heart as much as it did in my ear. Regardless of the way it went down in Toronto, I would always have a fondness for her. “I always have time for your lovely voice.”

  “You are such a liar!” She followed with a laugh and so did I. “Are you working on a project?”

  “Max asked me the same question. Are you two conniving to involve me in something?” I didn’t give her a chance to answer, “Baby, I took some well-deserved time off. Right now I’m kicked back lakeside enjoying some of life’s little pleasures.”

  “Life? That’s a strange first name—how is she?” There was a mixture of jealousy and disapproval in her voice. I laughed, but it had a nervous ring to it. She joined in, but it wasn’t the musical laugh I’d known in the past.

  I changed the subject, “When we talked a couple weeks ago you said you were working on a project, how’s that going?”

  “It’s in the bag. I wished you could have been here. The project would have gone smoother. We could have enjoyed the long, temperate nights together—working.”

  Mmmmmmm, I thought, tempting. For a moment, I raced back through time to our first kiss in Texas. She’d softly brushed my lips with her tongue, inviting me closer, and I’d tasted a sweet hint of heaven.

  “You know I like it up close and personal.”

  I snapped back to the present. “Are you talking about targets or us?”

  “Yes—I am.”

  Before I could meet her expectations I had to contend with reality first. “Maybe, one of these days soon…I can get back to Oregon, and we can, uh, talk, you know?”

  Quietness was deafening in the moments before Anna answered, “Sure. One of these days.”

  I signed off with a promise to call more frequently, but I heard the hollowness in my words. I didn’t want to burn any bridges with Anna, but by the same token, I had another iron in the fire. I would call as promised, if the mood struck.

  Joyce stood under a shade tree near the parking pad. I was running late for our rendezvous. I could see she’d gone out of her way to look attractive. Her khaki Capri pants fit tight in all the right places and went well with her brown leather slip-ons. Her shiny auburn hair was pulled into a sleek ponytail. Joyce wasn’t a “skinny Minnie,” not by a long shot. Her white button up blouse dipped low in front and didn’t have buttons enough to restrain all her curves. I would have problems with Duke for sure. If he got out of hand, I’d knock him down a peg—all six-foot-three inches of him.

  “Let’s take my rig?” I said.

  I backed the Avenger out, pulled onto Highway 39, and cruised with the windows rolled down. It was wonderful to see Joyce with her dazzling smile again. She’d let herself worry too much about the visit. “If Duke starts a fight, I’ll take care of it,” she said. “You’re a lover, not a fighter.”

  “Don’t sweat it, sweetheart, I can take care of myself.”

  “You’re a writer.”

  Why was it assumed writers were wimps? But it was that stereotyping that allowed my façade to work in my favor.

  As we passed over Table Rock Lake at Shell Knob she asked, “Do you know the way to Duke’s house?”

  I pointed at the road in front of the Avenger and said, “This way.” I realized I’d made a mistake, and then added, “I guess.”

  She shook her head as if I were an idiot. “I’ll show you.” With Joyce’s guidance, we made our way from one road to the next and zigzagged through the hills to Dixon Holler. As we approached the red-clay road that led to Duke’s place, I slowed the Avenger to make the turn.

  “How did you know where the turn off was?” She asked.

  She’d caught me. Her look was one of puzzlement and surprise. I quickly pointed to the gun range sign, “I figured that was it.”

  “Wow, your eyesight must be fantastic. I don’t think the sign was visible when you started to slow down.”

  “I couldn’t read it, but I slowed to read it. When I saw it said gun range, I figured it was the right turn.”

  I wouldn’t say she bought it entirely, but she let it go. She had something else more pressing on her mind, her concern for my behavior. She didn’t know it, but she’d misplaced her concern. “What can I expect from you today?”

  “Like what, how am I going to act?”

  “Yes, exactly.”

  “Tell your buddy Duke, don’t make a bad first action, and there won’t be a bad reaction.”


  “Seriously?”

  “No honey—like I told you yesterday, I’ll watch my Ps, and Qs. Now it’s my turn for a favor. I want you to talk with Minnie alone and get the lowdown on what’s going on. I want you to talk to her as a friend. The kind of friends you said you once were.”

  “I don’t know if she will talk to me about anything personal. I’ll do what I can.”

  The Avenger climbed the draw’s slight incline at a little more than an idle. I wasn’t in a hurry; I was taking in the sights. In fact, I’d made a mental note of the terrain, landmarks, brush density, dried shale runoffs, wildlife, anything noteworthy. It was beginning to feel like an old habit.

  Duke’s redneck camouflaged pickup stuck out like a sore thumb. Most places I’ve been it would have been easily identified from a mile away. Not in this neck of the woods. I’d probably seen a dozen pickups, maybe more, painted in a similar fashion. Duke was parked alongside his house in the afternoon shade. I pulled up next to his rig and cut the engine. Feigning a stretch, I stood next to my car and surveyed his place. My base nature as a hunter was habitual. There was no sense trying to fight it. I’m a killer, and I would always be on the hunt for manifestations of evil. While I made mental notes, Joyce adjusted her blouse higher in the front. She apparently shared my unspoken concern for Duke’s obnoxious behaviors. Why invite trouble. She stretched out her hand, motioning for me to join her. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw what had prompted her. Duke was hot-footing his way toward Joyce. I walked around behind the Avenger intent upon taking the hand she had offered. Duke swept her off her feet in a massive bear hug. The kind of hug you might expect from someone you hadn’t seen for years or would never see again. Not from a guy you saw earlier the same day.

  Making my presence known to Duke and standing next to Joyce, he landed her feet on terra firma and extended his right hand while holding his left arm wrapped tightly around her waist. In a dismissive manner, Duke said, “Glad y’all could make it, Stud.” With barely a glance at me, he shifted his attention back to Joyce. Tension mounted.

  As Duke spun Joyce around toward the house, she latched onto my hand and pulled herself from Duke’s grip on her waist. For an awkward moment, Duke and I stood face to face. Joyce’s hand wrapped around my arm to pull me back.

  Duke extended his hand toward the house, “Come on, come on in. Minnie’s excited to see y’all.”

  Joyce and I moved forward, hand in hand while Duke fell in behind us or at least behind Joyce. From the glimmer in his eye, his intent was evident.

  The single-level house sat at the forefront of other buildings on the property. The red clay roadbed at the bottom of the canyon had changed to a light-brown color in the large circular driveway that wrapped around a small debris-filled pond. The house was a square ranch style cracker-box from the 1940s or 50s. I was filing notes away in my mind. How many bedrooms and bathrooms the house had was irrelevant to my interests. The absence of a screened front door or where other entry points were located in the home drew my attention.

  The living room was warm and charming with two sofas, a recliner, and an old wooden rocking chair. Minnie barely greeted us before she shuffled off to the kitchen to fetch a couple beers as Duke had demanded. Joyce took a seat next to where Minnie said she’d been sitting. Duke invited me to sit in the nearby wood rocker, and then took the seat next to Joyce. While I considered how to break up Duke’s action, Minnie returned with a pair of brews in hand. She stopped short of the couch and looked at where Duke sat. He stopped in midsentence, looked at Minnie, and said, “Give me a beer woman and sit your butt over there!” He nodded toward the recliner that sat across the room from where the rest of us were seated. Duke’s abusive nature was poisonous to Minnie as he ran roughshod over her self-esteem.

  Minnie had every right to be angry and embarrassed at Duke’s behavior, but I didn’t see that in her. She guarded her feelings well. I, on the other hand, was hypersensitive to Duke’s actions, and it wasn’t sitting well at all. The longer I stewed, the worse the tension grew inside me. I saw Joyce flash a look my way that screamed “I need to be rescued,” but I’d made a commitment to her not to act brash.

  “Duke, how’s that gun range working out for you?”

  If this was a passion of his, with his personality, he’d talk incessantly about it. So far, he’d only talked about himself and directed his comments to Joyce.

  Duke knocked down his beer in four or five lengthy gulps. He looked at Minnie and commandingly said, “Woman, beer me.” Minnie immediately hustled to comply. Without missing a beat, he belched, and then answered, “I got the house when momma passed away. I like workin’ for myself, bein’ my own boss, bein’ my own man. The extra land behind the house ain’t no good for farmin’ none. I figured I’d make the land worth somethin’ and turned it into a gun range and make money.” Duke turned his attention back to Joyce.

  In a vexing way, I threw another question at him. “I recall you saying you’re a truck driver. How do you manage to run the range when you’re gone?” If Duke hadn’t been so egotistical, I wouldn’t have taken advantage of his weakness and intruded on his game.

  “Yeah, see Stud, I only do monthly memberships. Cuts down on a lot of work. I’m not sayin’ if a newbie shows up with the cash and wants to shoot that I ain’t takin’ it, money on the barrel head y’know. Besides I got Minnie all trained up to take money whenever it’s there. Ain’t that right honey?”

  Minnie handed Duke the beer she’d brought in from the kitchen and blushed at the mention of her name. “She’s as good as gold to me. Ain’t that right honey?” Again, Minnie said nothing, but a small smile emerged. She enjoyed the recognition.

  Duke downed his beer in the same fashion as before and asked, “Why don’t we take a look at the gun range?”

  “Great idea.” Whatever Duke was up to, it wasn’t for my benefit. Since I’d interrupted his chitchat with Joyce, I had no doubt retribution was on the menu.

  Duke said, “I’ll be right back, get ready to hit the range.” I looked at Joyce and shook my head. Alcohol and shooting don’t mix. He returned carrying two black plastic cases. “Come on, let’s burn some powder Stud.” I was alert to the fact he had something up his sleeve. If I could figure out his angle, I’d best him at his own game.

  “I don’t care too much for shooting at paper targets.”

  Duke scoffed when he should’ve listened. He misinterpreted my entire statement. He mustered up his bravado and ran off at the mouth. “Joyce darlin’ if your man don’t shoot guns—you got yourself a girlfriend.” He roared with phony laughter at his own joke then asked Joyce, “You’re comin’ too, ain’t ya darlin’?”

  “You guys run along and play.”

  “Come on, don’t you want to see your boyfriend show off his so-called shooting skills?”

  If Joyce held her ground, Duke would find himself between a rock and a hard place. He’d have to babysit me on the range, and that wasn’t his plan. Duke was competitive and egocentric. He wanted Joyce to watch me shoot then he’d shoot in an attempt to embarrass me. Duke didn’t respect anyone. He gave me no reason to believe he’d begin with me. He assumed I was a real dunce when it came to guns. That’s why he wanted Joyce present to see if he could make a fool out of me. Once he’d bested me, he would strut his stuff and make a fool of himself. Mister Big was going to fall, but I’d let him have his fun before showing him the ropes on the range. Whether Joyce went or not, he was committed to take me to shoot.

  Perhaps Duke had fears of leaving Minnie with Joyce. He’d never allowed them to visit alone since her return from Toronto. When they got together, Duke was there in the midst, and Minnie didn’t say a word. Duke did all the talking, and the talk was all about him. There was a reason he kept her isolated. I wanted to know what he was hiding.

  Duke hit his stress point, again. I loved to watch him squirm. His lips pressed together tightly in a slight grimace. As his face reddened, I turned up the heat.

  “Let’
s go, Duke,” I repeated it a couple times for good measure. Each time I said it louder and more forceful. “Come on we’re burning daylight, partner.” If looks could kill, I’d have been a dead man. Duke wasn’t having fun and in his voice were signs of stress. It was pure torture for him not to get his way. It might’ve been as satisfying as shooting him. I’d have to wait to make the comparison.

  “Come on, please, with sugar on top,” Duke groveled. “Don’t make me beg you.”

  He was too late and pathetic. For a two-minute stretch, his diatribe didn’t change. Beg, beg, beg. What a sad display of a man. If Joyce’s resistance didn’t wear down soon, mine would, and the only humane action would be to put him out of his misery.

  His woe-is-me attitude suddenly changed to anger. In a split second rage, he lashed out at Minnie, “You’ve got supper to get done. You don’t need to be in here runnin’ your gums!” Minnie took the verbal abuse but moved slightly to the side and away from Duke’s wrath.

  I nodded slightly to Joyce, who immediately responded to Duke with the answer he’d been counting on getting. Duke smiled ear to ear then hastened into a back room to fetch supplies for the range. I leaned over to Joyce and whispered in her ear, “Shoot, and then go back in the house to help Minnie.”

  She responded with a sigh and in a barely audible voice, “Okay.”

  Duke returned with a third black plastic case and handed it to me. “You’re a big, strong stud. Why don’t you pack it?”

  With his hands free of responsibility, Duke tossed his arm over Joyce’s shoulders as if they were old pals and led her through the kitchen, laundry room, and out the back door. I picked up the cases and followed. While Duke fixated his attention on Joyce, I concentrated on recon. How far was it from the back door? What kind of locks were on the doors? What, if any, does the house have for an alarm system?