The Cherry Pages

by Gary Ruffin

  After placing my gun on the coffee table, I took off my jeans and lay down on the sofa. I found myself in dreamland almost instantly, the sound of the rain on the tin roof lulling me to sleep. Penny was gone by the time the smell of bacon frying woke me up for the second time. Or should I say the smell of bacon burning.

  Trying to remember where the fire extinguisher was, I pulled on my jeans and stumbled into the kitchen to find Cherry dressed in Penny’s black bikini, desperately trying to get the smoke out of the now-open kitchen window. I instantly regretted that I had not taken Penny up on her offer of a morning ride, but managed to keep my eyes off of Cherry’s barely clad body for the most part.

  I needed a vacation from my vacation.

  The bacon was a total loss, so I walked over and took the frying pan off the stove, and dumped the greasy mess in the trash can on top of the tabloid paper. The Bombshell-Bodyguard Kiss was now officially dead and buried. And greasy.

  Cherry whined, “I’m absolute crap in the kitchen, but my intentions were good. I wanted to pay you back for your grilling, but I’ve only made a dreadful mess of things, as usual.”

  “It’s not a problem, boss, your job is to be beautiful and say your lines when it’s your turn. And speaking of beautiful—you look almost as good as Penny does in that thing.” The black bikini looked terrific against her cream white skin, and it made her hair seem even redder.

  “My, what a wonderful compliment, Cooper. I’ll settle for second best whenever Penny’s around. What an extraordinary woman she is. I’m so very glad we got the chance to travel down here so I could meet her. Last night was a right good laugh. You almost had a heart attack when she lit into you, yeah?”

  “Well, maybe a small palpitation here and there.”

  She washed her hands in the sink, and said, “Did it cross your mind that perhaps I’d been telling tales out of school about our sleeping arrangements? Was that why you stood frozen to the spot with your jaw on the floor when she went after you?”

  She smiled her sexiest smile, and I reached over and opened the refrigerator to cool off.

  Finding the bacon, I said, “I’ll admit I was pretty worried there for a minute. Okay, I was pretty terrified there for a minute. At least now I know you don’t sleep and tell.”

  “Never,” she said. “I threw away the key, remember? Seriously, I would never say or do anything to jeopardize what the two of you have. Especially since there’s nothing to tell, really. I hope you know that.”

  Putting five strips of bacon in the pan, I replied, “I know that for sure now. And by the way, it was pretty funny. It was nice to see you and Penny getting along together so well, like I knew you would. Now. Scrambled eggs and toast with your bacon sound all right?”

  “Wonderful. I’ll make some tea. That I can do.”

  “I’ll have some coffee, if you don’t mind, and there’s OJ in the fridge.”

  “Coming right up.”

  We ate sitting at the little table in the small dining room, which is really more like an alcove set off from the living room.

  Looking out at the lightning, black clouds, and pouring rain, Cherry said, “Damned bloody downpour! It feels like London instead of sunny Florida. I was so looking forward to a quick swim after breakfast. Penny said the sandy bottom is clean as a whistle, and the water temperature ideal in the morning for bathing—nice and cool. With my skin, I can’t stay out in the sun for too long in the middle of the day, especially when I’m working. It simply wouldn’t do for me to show up for work with a sunburn. Guinness would pitch a fit.”

  I said, “Sometimes, these storms are over before you know it, so don’t give up just yet. Of course, sometimes, they last all day.”

  “Oh, well,” she said. “At least the company is pleasant.”

  Lawrence Lyndon-Bowen woke up in his Ritz-Carlton Buckhead suite at a few minutes after 9 A.M. He called from his bed down to the desk, and found that he had more than thirty messages from various reporters, news agencies, and television programs. He thanked the clerk, smiled to himself, and reached over and roughly shoved the young man sleeping next to him in his bed.

  Michael, a young black hustler Lawrence had picked up at a gay bar in Midtown, turned over towards the wall and pushed his pillow into a mound under his clean-shaven head.

  Lawrence said, “Look. Get out of here, and right this minute, you muscle-bound cretin. That’s what I paid you for, to get out. And make sure no one sees you leaving, as I might need you again while I’m here. But only if you keep this quiet, is that understood? It wouldn’t be good for your heath if I find out that you’ve told anyone about our little tryst. Now, move your arse, and be quick about it.”

  Michael grumbled something about old closet queens under his breath, but was dressed and out of the suite in less than two minutes. He managed to make it downstairs and out of the hotel without being noticed by the staff or any of the hotel guests. The old English tart was obnoxious as hell, going on and on about what a great movie producer he was, but he paid well. A cool two grand for the night was more than twice the price that most of these old guys were willing to pay, so it was a profitable night, if a boring one.

  Lyndon-Bowen called Lynne Prather at the theater, and told her to tell Guinness that he was calling to check in, and that he was available if needed. The rehearsals were going on as planned, with Bev reading Cherry’s part. Lynne said she would inform Guinness, and they hung up, leaving Lawrence with nothing more to do for the day than to try and stir up more publicity. And that was something he could do quite well, thank you very much.

  He took a shower after ordering breakfast, and turned on the television to a news channel as he toweled himself dry. There was only a wait of a few minutes before he saw himself dazzling the press corps; it had to be the twentieth time he’d seen it since yesterday, but it seemed to just get better with each viewing. There was simply no doubt about it, L. Lyndon-Bowen was a natural, a born star. And if everything went as planned, he was going to prove it again today.

  A brainstorm had come to him in the night, while he was trying to ignore the snoring of his hired bedmate. What if he could somehow fake an attack on himself? Maybe go to the theater and scream bloody murder during the lunch break, just like the other day. Perhaps make a cut in his hand, or make some rope marks on his neck, or both? Then tell the cops that he had no idea about the Computer Killer’s size or weight, because he had been attacked from behind. The cut on his hand was a—what was it called?—a defensive wound.

  There would be sympathy to go along with the publicity, not to mention the admiration that would be created by such a heroic act. More face time on all the news channels, Lyndon-Bowen moving ever closer to becoming a household name.

  But the plan had its downside, too. What if it could be proven that he had faked an attack? What then? The investigators were usually very good at their jobs; at least they were on all the crime shows on the telly. Was it too risky, too mad a scheme even for the likes of an expert publicity-generating machine such as Lawrence Lyndon-Bowen?

  Maybe.

  But, then again, maybe not.

  Part Three Action …

  48

  PENNY DROVE TOWARDS TOWN WITH A LIGHTNESS IN HER HEART SHE hadn’t felt since Coop had left town on his big adventure. Last night had been such a grand occasion: meeting her idol and finding her to be just as beautiful and charming as she had imagined her to be. More, even.

  And it was so great to find out that the kiss between Coop and Cherry was nothing more than a friendly peck on the lips, not that Penny had ever believed it to be anything other than that. Not really. Well—maybe there were a few moments when she’d thought that it might be barely possible there was something going on between Coop and her new best friend. Okay, so there were more than a few moments. All right—she wasn’t sure until she actually saw them, and talked to them, that there was no relationship outside of business between them. But she was convinced now that all was well, and she had to fig
ht to keep a smile off of her face as she pulled up and parked in front of Matthews Cafeteria.

  If the patrons saw her smiling like an idiot, they’d know something was up, and that was the last thing that anybody in Gulf Front needed to be thinking today.

  She sat in the patrol car for a while as the rain continued to come down in sheets, already overrunning the gutters as the thunderstorm made its way through town. The memory of last night’s practical joke on Coop had her smiling again, and she actually laughed out loud as she remembered the look on his face, and the release the wild laughter had brought her. Luckily, the rain kept anyone from seeing her laughing, or there would have been concern among the citizens about the state of their acting police chief’s mental well-being.

  She realized that she’d forgotten her umbrella, but then remembered that she was in Coop’s car, and that he kept one under the front passenger’s seat.

  The darling man.

  Penny reached under the seat, retrieved the umbrella, and made a mad dash to the front door of the cafeteria. Everyone waited to see what kind of a mood she was in before they said anything, and all were greatly relieved when she greeted them with a friendly hello. But not too friendly—she was on a mission.

  As she made her way through the line, she took two biscuits with honey, one piece of link sausage, and a cup of coffee from the servers. When she got to Willene at the end of the line, and paid her bill, she asked if they might talk for a minute when Willene took her break.

  “Why, sure, sweetie,” Willene said. “I’ll be over at your table in, let’s see, twelve minutes. Would that be all right?”

  “That’d be just fine,” Penny said, paying for her breakfast with a ten and taking her change. She then walked over and took a seat at a table not far from the cash register.

  The conversation among the customers had returned to its normal din, and Penny knew then that the good people of Gulf Front had decided the tabloid picture was just exactly what it was: yesterday’s news.

  She enjoyed her meal, and was almost finished when Willene turned the register over to Thelma, and sat down across from Penny.

  “How’s them biscuits today?” Willene asked with a smile, knowing they were the best biscuits for miles around.

  “They get better every time I come in here, Willene. How does Annie do it?”

  “You’re tastin’ about fifty years wortha cookin’ experience. That’s how she does it. Now, how you doin’? Everything okay? You and Coop talk yet? I seen on the TV last night that he and that movie star has gone missin’. Have you heard from ’im?”

  Penny lied, “No, I haven’t, but if he was in any trouble, I know he’d call and let me know. But that’s not what’s worrying me. There’s another reason I wanted to talk to you. But this has to be just between you and me. You okay with that?”

  Willene slyly looked around the room, and said, “I ain’t like Blanche over at O’Kelly’s, sweetheart. Anything we talk about don’t go no further than this table.”

  “Good. I knew I could trust you. Here’s the deal. Did any strangers come in here yesterday during the time I was havin’ breakfast? If you can think of anything, no matter how big or small, I need to know, ’cause a lot of times the smallest details can lead to the biggest clues.”

  Loving the conspiratorial nature of the conversation, Willene took another look around before she said anything. She looked down at the floor, then up at the old clock on the wall behind Penny, trying to picture in her mind yesterday’s breakfast crowd.

  She finally said, “They was a guy looked like a truck driver, big fella, I ain’t never seen before, and a family with two cute little boys that was drivin’ their mama crazy, and a woman sittin’ by herself, maybe thirty, thirty-five, who just had coffee and a cinnamon roll, and two young black guys dressed in real sharp clothes, like they hadn’t been to bed yet, and one fella and another young lady I’ve never seen who sat at the end of the table with all the regular old men there in the middle of the room, but they didn’t talk to ’em. At least not that I seen. Let’s see, what else?” She stared at the clock again for a moment, and then said, “Darlin’, that’s about all I can remember right this minute. Did that help any?”

  “Willene, it helped more than you’ll ever know,” Penny said as she finished off the last bite of sausage with a little mustard on it. “One other thing. Did any of those strangers come in again this mornin’?”

  Willene thought for a moment, and said, “Nope. Not a one.”

  Penny said, “That’s good. I only asked about strangers because a call came in yesterday afternoon concerning a stolen car over in Pensacola. But nobody you described fits the report. So, see? You were a great big help.”

  Willene smiled and said, “I’m just so glad I could do my civic duty, sweetie. You let me know if there’s anything else I can do to help, okay?”

  “I sure will,” Penny said, and watched as Willene got up and went out the back door to smoke a cigarette.

  Penny thought that only three of the people Willene described could have possibly been involved, unless there was a new satanic cult that included the whole family. Maybe the two little boys were the killers. Lord knows the young ones today know more about computers by age five than their parents do, she thought.

  But realistically, the single male and the two single females were the only plausible suspects, and more realistically, she was never going to find out if any of the three of them had anything to do with the attack last night. But, you never know, maybe she’d catch a break.

  As she looked around the room at all the regulars, Penny knew that every one of them wanted to know if she’d heard from Coop. She also knew that as soon as she left, they’d be all over Willene, asking if Penny had told her where he was.

  If Willene told them that she hadn’t heard from Coop, it would actually save her from having to answer the question all day long, so she secretly hoped that Willene would tell.

  She sat and finished her coffee, wishing the rain would let up a little.

  49

  AFTER BREAKFAST, CHERRY AND I OPENED ALL THE WINDOWS IN THE cottage because even though the rain was still pouring steadily, the wind had died down. It wasn’t blowing the rain at an angle on to the windows anymore, so there was no longer any danger of the inside of the house being flooded. I turned off the fans, and we went out on to the porch to sit in the swing and talk.

  Penny’s uncle Stan originally built the beach cottage as a vacation home for his family while they were living in Pensacola. When he was offered a job in New York City, Stan and his family moved there, and he began renting the cottage to Penny for a ridiculously low monthly fee. Otherwise, there would be no way she could afford to live right on the beach.

  There are several things about the cottage that make it special, not the least of which is the tin roof. When it rains, there’s nothing better than to fall asleep to the sound of raindrops drumming on the tin. The screened back porch is another great feature, especially when a cool breeze is blowing through.

  But the best thing her uncle did was to make the porch twice as deep as you would expect it to be, and to leave it free of railings that would block the view. Maybe even better, he positioned the porch swing so that it faces the ocean, as opposed to the normal way, which is to have it on the end, at a ninety-degree angle from the house. Swinging in that swing while looking out at the ocean is one of my favorite things to do at the cottage.

  The rain was so dense, it was hard to tell where the horizon was. Everything from the water to the sky was one big gray wash. The drops hitting the tin roof delighted Cherry, and she said the rain might not be so bad after all, since we would have time to relax and talk. After all the lunacy of the past few days and nights, I agreed with her wholeheartedly.

  Looking out at the gray, I said, “Hopefully, tomorrow will be sunny, and you can take that morning swim. I promise you’ll be really impressed with how clear the water is, and how gentle the waves are. And, another thing. You�
�ll get to feel that smooth, clean bottom out there. No rocks, no seaweed, it’s just like walkin’ on the beach. Also, not that you can tell it right now, but our sand is clean, white, and soft. You’re gonna love it.”

  Cherry wiggled her toes, and said, “It sounds absolutely sublime. I can’t wait to get in and bathe in the Gulf. I’ve always loved the sea, and would absolutely weep when we left the seashore to go home to London. It really is one of my favorite things in the world, being in and around the ocean.”

  “Good to hear. I take it for granted, bein’ around it all the time. It’ll be nice to experience it through your eyes.”

  Cherry said, “I know what you mean about taking things for granted. When people who’ve never been to London come there for a visit, it always rejuvenates my love for the place when I take them ’round to all the touristy places. It’s a magnificent old city, really.”

  “You gonna take me to those touristy places someday?” I asked.

  “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go, and maybe even a few places you don’t want to go,” she said with a smile.

  “Deal,” I said.

  Cherry started the swing with her foot, and said, “This truly is a perfect day for a chat, don’t you agree?”

  “Depends on what we talk about, I guess, but it’s definitely relaxing.”

  “Well, there is one thing I’m dying to ask,” she said. “No, it’s not as bad as all that. Don’t pull such a face. I only wanted to know how you got your start in law enforcement. What made you want to become a police officer? Was that always your dream growing up?”

  I yawned, stretched, and said, “No, it wasn’t my dream job. I wanted to be a professional football player. And not soccer, either, missy. I mean our football. Real football.”

  She chuckled, and tossed her hair back from her face. “Okay. Believe it or not, I do know the difference between the two. So, tell me. What drew you to the law as an occupation?”