The Bodies of Star Farm

by H R Jones

  Margo didn’t remember when or how they left McNulty’s.

  Her next conscious memory was lying naked on a bed she thought was hers, Rory was on top of her, satisfying his needs.

  He must have given her something, because the next time she came round, she could barely make out what was happening.

  It must have been morning when she came to long enough to see slivers of light through the partially opened blinds, then she passed out again.

  ~ * ~

  The next time she came to, Rory was saying, “You better get yourself cleaned up, Margo, you’re a mess. Look at yourself.”

  She tried to stand, but nearly fell. Margo had all she could do to weave her way to the bathroom. Hanging onto the rim of the sink with one hand and the edge of the tub with the other, she pulled herself up straight, looked in the mirror and screamed. She was a mess. She steadied herself. In her drug and alcohol haze, she couldn’t remember what had happened. She stood in the tub and let the warmth of the soothing shower pour over her.

  The pounding forced her back to consciousness. She’d been huddled on the floor of the shower. Margo had all she could do to get up, turn it off and get out. She thought she could hear Rory’s voice calling her. She thought she must have been in there for a very long time.

  “Get out here, bitch!”

  Somehow she stumbled to the bathroom door. When she opened it, he was standing there with something in his hand. She couldn’t quite make out what it was.

  He threw a towel around her, lifted her up and carried her back to the bed.

  “Pleeese…”

  “Please what?” he growled.

  Cold, hung over and a bit frightened, she said through chattering teeth, “Take me home.”

  “Well, now, first I have a little surprise for you. We’re going to play a little game. There are a few questions you have to answer. If you answer the questions correctly, I’ll give you a piece of clothing to put on.”

  Margo, suddenly acutely aware, could see by his demeanor he was in a foul mood.

  He continued in a threatening voice, “If you lie to me…”

  “Why Rory, why? Why would I lie?” She managed to get out between chatters and shivers. “What have I ever done to you?”

  “Well, now, that’s just the thing, isn’t it?” He went on, “Why don’t you start by telling me just what it was you told your friend, Lieutenant Grutner, when he came calling, or was he just in need of a good lay? I heard he was out here a while back talking to you, asking questions about me. I’ve been looking for you for a long time, Margo. Then I heard you were back here shacking up with some old drunk, and then he left you. So I figured you and me could finally have the conversation I’ve been wanting to have. So, just what is it you told the lieutenant about me and Miss Hoity-toity little Nell Lynn?”

  “I didn’t tell him anything. Honest. Rory…” she cried.

  He glared at her, and made a threatening gesture.

  She tried to stay composed. “Rory, honestly, I didn’t tell him anything, honestly.”

  “That’s not what I heard. I heard you were flapping your yap pretty good, telling him I’d been here during the storm, then took off. That I’d been calling people while I was here. How’d you know I was talking to anyone? Were you spying on me?” he raised his voice, threatening her.

  “No, no, no, Rory. I didn’t think it was any big deal to say you’d been here. I knew you’d used the phone ‘cause I walked into the bedroom when you were talking to someone. I wasn’t spying, honest, Rory.”

  “Are you the one who told him I’d been with Nell?”

  “No, I didn’t tell him anything, honest, except you’d been here and had used the phone, that’s all.”

  “Why should I believe you, Margo? Lyle says you did.”

  Margo screamed. “Rory, please, please stop,” she cried, “I didn’t say or do anything to hurt you.” Shaking from fear and the cold, she lay on the bed, and with quaking voice said, “You know I’ve always loved you, Rory.” It was the truth, though she’d tried to deny it for years.

  He got up from the side of the bed, smiled at her, leaned over as if to kiss her…

  “Please Rory, don’t do this!” she screamed.

  Those were the last words Margo Schwartz would ever utter.

  ~ * ~

  He’d dressed Margo in the clothes she’d been wearing the night before, then wrapped her in the bedding. He took a strong tow rope to tie it securely, and carried her out to the trunk of his car.

  He returned to the house to make sure there was no evidence he’d been there. He went so far as to change the sheets on Margo’s bed, cleaned up the dirty dishes and did his best to make sure there was no trace of Rory Star in her home.

  When he was sure he’d wiped off every surface he may have touched, he locked the door and traveled all the back roads, under the cloak of darkness, back to Star Farm.

  Twenty-six

  Rory’d been holed up in various places over the past few years. He knew Lieutenant Grutner was still looking for him. Between the cabin up north, his private island in the Caymans and various retreats loaned by trusted friends, he’d managed to stay out of the reach of the long arm of the law. He’d gone back every once in a while, when he’d received an ‘all clear’ from Lyle. Now he’d returned to Star Farm, under threat of being discovered, to bury under the tree line... the last woman to betray him.

  He was taking a chance. Whenever he saw a car approaching, he’d pull in a side road or farm house drive, kill his lights, and wait for the vehicle to pass. As soon as he reached his property, he turned off his lights, and drove straight to the barn, swiftly and stealthily opening the big, heavy doors. He drove in, and quickly closed them.

  He took Margo from the trunk. He didn’t realize how much she’d bled. Well, now, this is why these hay bales are so doggone handy. They seem to soak up the blood real good. He couldn’t stop himself…he couldn’t resist one last look at Margo. He untied the sheeting, flipped it back and stared. Her face was frozen for eternity in her last scream.

  ~ * ~

  At first dawn, Rory put Margo’s body in the back of the pickup for her last ride.

  The area he’d prepared for her by the tree line was filling up. He’d need to begin looking for a new location in which to place his ‘special ladies,’ as he called them, to rest.

  He’d prepared the earth well, so he didn’t need to dig too hard or too deep. He lifted Margo from the back of the pickup, and unceremoniously tossed her in the gaping hole with the others. As he threw one last shovel full of dirt over her, he heaved a sigh, hoisted himself back in the truck and headed back to the house. He had much to do before he could leave.

  When he’d finished everything, Rory made a quick call, then hurried out to load Ranger and all his tack in the horse trailer. He’d found a buyer for his old ‘friend’… the truck and trailer too. He backed the truck, hooked up the trailer and loaded Ranger.

  Returning to the house, he made sure everything electricity and water were turned off, and then closed the blinds. There were papers and documents he’d be needing. Rory secured them from his portable safe. Lastly, he loaded the car with all the personal belongings he’d be needing. Rory was ready to head out.

  Just then, there was a knock at the door. He pulled the heavy drape a bit to one side of the window to see who was on his doorstep. Cautiously, he checked the peep hole in the heavy wooden door. He saw a bear of a man, with a heavy, dark beard, and hard-looking eyes shaded by wild eyebrows, looking like the hares that inhabited his pasture.

  He opened the door, “You Coop?” he asked.

  The burly man nodded. Rory handed him the keys to the Buick, saying, “Stay close. You got someone to help you get back?”

  The man nodded.

  “Okay, get the car ready to follow me. I’ll let you know where we’ll be stopping later, and he can pick you up tomorrow.” He reached in his back pocket, took out a wad of money wrapped with a thick rubbe
r band, and handed it to the man. “Remember, not a word to anyone, ya hear?”

  The man nodded he understood.

  Rory made a check of the property one last time to make sure the out buildings, barn and garage were secure. He quickly went through the house, checking to see if he’d forgotten anything. He locked up. Pulling the truck and horse trailer up alongside the waiting car, and putting his arm out the window, he motioned to the man they were ready to head out.

  Rory stuck to the back roads that were little more than cow paths, until he was safely out of the county and state. He didn’t want an encounter with Lieutenant Grutner or any other law enforcement personnel.

  Twenty-seven

  After driving in the nearly pitch dark for hours, Rory pulled onto another rutted, dusty, rural road. He saw a flickering distant light that grew brighter as they drew closer.

  He signaled for the man following him to stop, turned off his truck, hopped out and ran back to speak to Coop. “I’ll be staying here tonight. Scoot over. I’m driving you into town. I’ve got a room for you there. You’ll be able to get something to eat, and call your ride. Tell ‘‘im to pick you up in Haystack, Kansas.”

  The man scrunched down in the seat, flopped his greasy duckbill hat over his face and drifted off.

  An hour later they arrived in Haystack. Rory poked him with his elbow, saying, “Well, here you are, at the Wild Hare no-tell Motel. The room is registered in the name you told me you’d be using. It’s all paid for. Goodnight.”

  Without so much as a fare-thee-well, the man nodded, exited the car and headed into the motel office. As soon as Rory saw he was inside, he took off.

  ~ * ~

  The screen door slammed shut behind Rory as he entered the small, ramshackle ranch house. He called out, “Peaches?” discarding clothing as he headed for the bedroom and the eagerly awaiting fleshy arms of Peaches O’Malley.

  “I’m all bedded down, just a waitin’ on ya.”

  The bedroom was decorated in Pepto Bismol pink from floor to ceiling. Peaches, a robust woman of questionable reputation, lay skimpily clad in her signature color, pink. A red scarf was carelessly tossed over the lamp shade.

  He nearly broke the bed, so eager was he to explore the delights of Peaches. He’d been availing himself of her special services for many years. She’d never asked his name, and he never gave it, so she just called him by his horse’s name, Ranger.

  ~ * ~

  “Peaches, honey, thanks for breakfast, ya didn’t have to do that, especially after all,” he pinched her behind, “you did for me last night. I’ll have to come around more often.” He shoved his hand deep in his pocket, and pulled out another large wad of money. He slapped it on the table saying, “This is for you, honey. Uh, by the way, is that party still going to buy my horse, trailer, and truck?”

  She slithered over to him, rubbing against him. “Don’t you go worrying about a thing. Peaches has taken care of it,” she said with a breathy sigh, “and you.”

  He’d planned to be on the road again before noon, but between Peaches’ ‘hospitality,’ and the booze, it was late afternoon before he had Ranger settled into his new quarters and was back on the road

  Twenty-eight

  With most of his assets cleverly hidden, liquidated, or left to ‘rot on the vine,’ so to speak, Rory Star was ready to assume a new identity, new life, and settle down. Well, if a man like Rory could ever settle down and have a regular life like normal folks, with a wife and kiddies looking up adoringly at him as they sat content around his feet.

  He was confident he’d covered all his tracks and all those bodies quite well. Just how many ladies are there now, under those lovely trees? he mused as he flew down the deserted old highways and by-ways of the Deep South. He began to tick them off in his mind as he drove. Well, let’s see now…the first one...the cute little redhead from somewhere up north. Gee, what was her name? ah, Judy? Jane? He hit the steering wheel angrily with the palm of his hand. It started with a J! She was the youngest. She had the prettiest green eyes and fiery red hair I’d ever seen. A real stunner. She was great. A throaty, creepily haunting belly laugh bubbled up from his diaphragm and burst forth from his mouth.

  As he drove through the bayous of Louisiana and the Palmetto groves of Florida, Rory recounted each and every one of the women he’d interred. He relived how each had fallen prey to his dubious promises and charms, without ever realizing it was a deadly game he played.

  The one who got away, though, was the one who caused him the greatest consternation and haunted him, awake and in his dreams. She was the one he should never have let live. Oddly, though, she was also the one he’d really loved…Nell Lynn.

  She should never have done what she did, she could have died in the fire. Now her husband will forever be reminded, all the days of his life, every time he looks at her, every time they make love, she had my baby. He knows the little bastard is mine. She was mine! He’ll never be able to give her what I could. Nell should be MY wife,” he howled into the wind, pounding on the steering wheel as he raced down the deserted highway.

  The more he drove, the more he obsessed about Nell Lynn. The fact he’d planted his seed in her and she’d had his baby, but married the professor, rankled him. He pounded the steering wheel again. Spittle spewed from his mouth as he screamed into the night, “I should never have let her live!”

  The professor, what a wimp! I didn’t think he’d want her. If he were any kind of man at all, he’d have thrown her out and left her and the brat to me.

  The more he drove the more it haunted him. Nell Lynn…lives.

  It’s because of her, I had to leave.

  He drove, reliving and replaying each of his victims’ last moments: their last words, last breaths, and remembered the look on each of their faces when with horror they realized he wasn’t their lover, he was their executioner, and they were about to die.

  Twenty-nine

  Rory decided he needed a change and headed to the Florida Keys. He’d heard people down in those parts were pretty tolerant and abided by the ‘live and let live’ philosophy of life.

  He’d let his hair grow long, wearing it in a ponytail. He’d plunked a greasy old Panama hat on his head he’d found in an antique store, and wore dark, aviator style sun glasses.

  He spent a few days on the beach in Venice to get some color, after making his way down through the Panhandle State. Then, one morning he walked into a women’s hair salon, and asked the young lady at the desk, “Can you make me a blond, sweet thing?”

  When they asked about getting his hair cut, he said, “Oh, no I don’t want a cut, I just want it to be blond.” He thought it would look real good with the tan he’d been working on.

  An hour and a half later, he came out of the salon looking for all the world like a native Floridian.

  ~ * ~

  When Rory arrived in the Keys a few days later, he tried out his new persona for the first time, calling himself Ricky Sands, a ‘well heeled’ beach bum. He’d been lucky and found a little shack on the beach to rent. Of course, just because it was little, and was basically a shack, didn’t mean it was inexpensive. On the contrary, it cost a substantial sum to rent by the month, but he couldn’t take a chance on someone discovering who he really was by purchasing property, with all the legal eagle things it would entail. He took it for a year.

  Rory could see the landlord was thrilled to rent him the place. After all, it was the off season, and he was paying, in cash, for a whole year in advance.

  Ricky Sands laughed to himself every time he used his new name. It took a few times saying it out loud, before it tumbled off his tongue without tripping over it.

  This was a whole different life style for Rory Star/Ricky Sands…no work, no chores, no animals to tend to, and no family or friends. As if he had ever had any.

  ~ * ~

  For the first few weeks, Ricky walked the beaches, tried his hand at surfing, swam in the Florida Straits and hung out at the local ba
rs during happy hour for the freebie hors d’oeuvres and cheap drinks. He’d met a few interesting ladies, but they didn’t seem quite his type, and he’d need to be real careful…there was no place, around here, to ‘keep’ them.

  By the end of the first month, Ricky’s desire for female companionship was becoming more difficult to ignore. He began hanging out at different bars every couple of nights, to no avail.

  Late one afternoon, after trying to ‘ride the surf’ and mostly ending up riding the sand on his face, he stopped in at The White Shutters up the beach from his place. He was exhausted and sun-burned, despite his pre-tanning and lotion, and he was hungry. He spotted a shady place on the veranda and flopped down.

  A cute little thing in a colorful, wild floral sarong and a blood-red hibiscus in her long silky black hair, padded over in bare feet.

  “Hey, mister, you look like you could use a tall cold one.”

  “How could you tell,” he said, with a bite of sarcasm.

  “Well, now, when you have more grains of sand in your hair and eyebrows than on your feet, I’m assuming things didn’t go well your first time riding the surf.”

  He laughed in spite of himself. “You’re right, little lady, it didn’t go well…at all! On top of it, I lost my fancy new board somewhere out there,” he said, pointing to the roiling surf.

  “Sounds to me like you could use a ‘Hang Ten’.”

  “Sure, if you think it will get all the salt water out of my lungs.”

  “Oh, it will do that and a whole lot more,” she said with a wink.

  He watched her all the way to the bar, her hips swaying seductively.

  A few minutes later, she returned with his tall cold drink, saying, “Down the hatch, but not too fast; it could land you on your kiester.”

  He saw a twinkle in her eye as she said this laughing. He took a long pull on the straw, “Whoa! That does get the salt water out. Keep those comin’, little lady.”