The Wind Is Rising 1

by Daniel Steele

  Again I let his comments die away and silence reign over the line.

  “I never had the chance to speak directly with you, Mr. Maitland, and I wish I had done that. What happened today was regrettable, but it was a mistake on a variety of levels. Whether you believe it or not, we had reason to believe your Mr. Bell was involved in three murders, one of them a sworn officer with this department.

  “Now, I know that Tommy – Deputy Deacon – is more than a little hot headed and our deputy who was murdered was a friend of his. He’s a little rough around the edges and from what he told me, he undoubtedly over reacted to what he thought was interference in his carrying out his duties.”

  “Why are you calling, Sheriff?”

  “I just wanted to make sure that – that things remain on a professional level between your office and mine. And that you don’t jump to wrong conclusions that could cause serious problems between our two counties in the future.”

  I was silent for a moment, then asked, “So can I assume that you won’t be making any more attempts to murder Mr. Bell to remove him as a witness in the William Sutton murder prosecution. That you won’t send in any more of your men with trumped up charges, that you won’t arrange any ‘accidents’ for Mr. Bell in his hospital room.”

  There was a very long silence.

  Finally: “ I know that Dallas Edwards has a long memory and I’m sure he has poisoned your mind where I’m concerned with all types of fevered stories of terrible things that I and my family have done in Satsuma over the years. I know he’s your employer and that you two have a personal relationship, so I’m not going to try to argue against anything he’s said. Except to say that people have different interpretations of what the truth is. I would just say that a lot of people and agencies have spent a lot of time and money trying to prove me guilty of anything wrong, and no one ever has.”

  There was another long silence, and then:

  “I doubt seriously that Edwards or anybody else has ever discussed how my family came to Satsuma, Maitland. It’s an interesting story, and one you might want to think about. Actually, my people lived in southwest Texas in the 19th century. They were ranchers, cattlemen, a few farmers. There were maybe a couple hundred Bludwurths living within a 2500 square mile area. Southwest Texas at that time was a rough part of the world. You had renegade Indians, Mexican army units acting as freelance looters, American bandits.

  “It’s too long a story to go into in detail, but a few Bludwurths were killed in a squabbles with neighbors and Indians and Mexicans. Back then, blood was important, so other Bludwurths avenged their deaths. But when their enemies were killed, their kin sought vengeance. It was an ugly cycle. The Hatfields and McCoys are only the most famous of the old feuds. There were others.

  “It took 20 years, but eventually there were too many enemies. And the Bludwurths were decimated. Men, women and children. Finally, my great great great grandfather, his brother and his wife were the only ones left and they saw the handwriting on the wall. They left Texas and their enemies and the feud.

  “It took a few years, but they eventually settled in Satsuma. Back then it was as wild as Texas had been. There were outlaws, escaped convicts hiding out in the swamps, disease and pestilence and virtually no law. They became lawmen, helped to civilize the area, and became a part of the county.

  “Now, Satsuma was a wild place and there were a lot of bad men. And the Bludwurths had learned a valuable lesson in Texas. When they made enemies, they killed them. All. It’s all history now – dead history –and no one will ever be charged, but people learned that if you made enemies of the Bludwurths, you either ran out of the county as far as fast as you could, or you and your family died.”

  Bludwurth had stopped talking. In the background I could hear classical music playing.

  “Of course, all that was a long time ago. Nothing like that happens anymore. But, it’s an object lesson. Feuds are a bad thing. People have to get along, even when they might not like each other, even when they might feel it better to continue fighting. Because, if you feud, people die. Not just the fighters, but their families. Their wives. Their sons. Their daughters. Their parents.

  “As I said, Mr. Maitland, there are no hard feelings on our end. We’re going to continue to try to get Mr. Bell down here legally, but we won’t do anything illegal to do so. I hope you’ll be able to put aside your hard feelings, your anger, and let this situation cool down. Do we have an understanding?”

  I took a moment, then, “As long as you leave Mr. Bell and anybody else in our county alone, I see no reason for us to have any dealings in the future.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Maitland. That seems fair. You have a good weekend.”

  I wondered if he would stay away from Bell. Everything Dallas had told me about Bludwurth made me doubt he’d quietly accept defeat and slink away. On the other hand, if he was as rich as Dallas surmised, I couldn’t imagine Mama Sutton coming up with enough cash to make it worth Bludwurth’s while to push it much further.

  Dallas thought he was an evil, sadistic bastard, but nothing he’d said indicated Bludwurth was stupid. And getting into a war over a relatively few bucks didn’t make sense. When he thought his guys could just walk into a hospital room and scare Bell to death, it probably made dollars and cents sense. But now?

  I still had about 50 emails to wade through, and I really, really, didn’t want to do it.

  I wanted to walk into Myra’s condo and just lust after her body and face for a few minutes before I did anything to her. I wanted to take her to the Landing and watch the faces of the guys we passed as they stripped her with their eyes and hated my guts. I wanted to be around men and women flirting and being silly and drunk and stupid. I wanted to eat the way I had when I’d been fat and flabby and worry about exercising it off tomorrow. I wanted to be as irresponsible and footloose and free as everybody else was on the weekend. I wanted to be the way I hadn’t been in more than 20 years, before Debbie. I wanted it to be like it was when life was simple.

  I made myself turn back to the computer in the center of my desk and its blinking message of responsibility. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t throw my responsibilities into the trash. I was changing, but I hadn’t changed that much.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN – SINGLE WHITE ROSES

  November 12, 2005

  Friday, 7:30 P.M.

  I rang the buzzer at Unit B-6 in the Ellendon Arms. Located about three miles south of I-295 on San Jose Boulevard heading toward Fruit Cove in St. Johns County, there was a guard shack at the entrance to the complex. The condos were open to anyone with enough money, but there was more security than you’d find anywhere outside a self-contained apartment complex. Most of the units had the same floor plan. A very large walk-in den with Cathedral ceilings and a large plate glass window at the rear of the room giving a panoramic view of a set of pools, including one Olympic-special and another very deep pool 15 feet deep on the end which was possible because there were no children allowed.

  There were hot tubs and one special book-ended set of pools including one set at near the high end limit of human endurance guaranteed to sweat out any bugs a user might have, with another nearby set near freezing. The complex guarantee was that any resident who could stand 30 seconds in the hot pool followed by 30 seconds in the cold pool, received a magnum of champagne on the house. The few times I’d been there, I’d seen only six idiots drop sweating into the well of ice cold water. But they’d all been young men except for one lean and tanned young lady, and other than screaming in shock, the immersion didn’t seem to have done anyone any harm

  I heard approaching steps and placed both hands behind my back. The stars twinkled in the sky at my back.

  “Who is it?”

  “Open and find out.”

  “Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

  The door swung open to reveal a living dream. Her hair was in that ringlet fashion that reminded me of the Halloween Party at Pelicans. It flowed in a si
lver stream down and around her face. Her lips were redder than a ripe apple, her eyes gleaming like emeralds enhanced by a green shade of eye shadow. She wore a simple peasant, low cut blouse that I doubted had ever looked as good on another human being. She wore a relatively tight silver pencil skirt that matched her hair color above metallic silver boots that rose nearly to her knees. Later that night I learned she was wearing Silver Faux Crinkle Leather Metallic Mirror Platform Boots. Even having seen her naked, she took my breath away. Particularly the Mirror Platform boots. Debbie nor Aline had ever fancied boots. I had discovered a fetish.

  “Hello, Mr. Maitland. Do you like what you see?”

  “Only about as much as a man dying of thirst in the desert likes finding a free-flowing well in an oasis.”

  “That much?”

  “More.”

  She reached for me and I used one hand to stop her and motion to her to step back. She looked at me curiously.

  I reached behind me to close the door with my free hand, keeping one concealed behind me. She looked at me with a small smile that could have lit up a town.

  “A man of mystery. What secret are you concealing behind your back?”

  “It could be a box of chocolates, for someone who has given a whole new definition to ‘sweet.’ It could be a bouquet of the rarest flowers in the world, for someone who is more beautiful than any flower. It could be a diamond bracelet for someone who outshines the most brilliant gem.”

  Her eyes sparkled, and yet I thought I spotted swimming in them some concern that I couldn’t understand.

  “You know you don’t have to seduce me, Bill, don’t you? You had me at ‘hello’.”

  I brought out the secret I had concealed in my left hand. A single, long white American rose bloomed from a crystal holder. Her eyes fixed on the white petals which seemed to ooze drops of moisture under the lights of her den.

  “What is this, Bill?”

  “A single beautiful rose, for a beautiful woman. Like you, Myra, it stands alone. You could surround it with a hundred beautiful flowers, and it would still stand out.”

  I stepped into her and held her face gently with my free hand and touched my lips to hers.

  “It’s corny, I know. And my only excuse is that I’m out of practice. I just wanted some way – to say that you take my breath away every time I see you at the courthouse. And you make my heart pound when I’m in my office alone and I start thinking of you. I still have to pinch myself to try to make myself believe this can be real. If I never touched you again, enjoyed that unbelievable body, I would still be the luckiest guy on the face of the earth. To have had you even one time, makes me a winner.”

  Tears sprang out at the corner of her eyes.

  “Bill, why do you keep fucking doing this?”

  I stepped back. I’d expected a few responses. Not this.

  “I – uh…”

  I felt 17 again, approaching a really hot girl for a date and seeing my dreams begin to crumble in front of me.

  Her eyes kept shedding tears, her lips didn’t smile, as she reached out to take the rose in its glass holder. She turned from me to set it on a small table just inside the entranceway.

  She turned slowly from the table to stare into my eyes. I couldn’t translate the look she gave me.

  “Do friends give friends single white roses for no reason? Do they say things that make their friends cry?”

  She took a step backward.

  “Come inside and close the door.”

  Without taking her eyes off mine, she did something and the peasant blouse slid off her shoulders. The heavy white, industrial bra swelled to hold in her breasts. This one had a clasp in front that she worked at until it opened and she let it slide down her chest and to her feet. Even after seeing them and loving her for a weekend that didn’t see us leave the bed very often, they still looked unreal.

  She slipped her dress off, revealing slight, soft satin panties with a very slight bulge where a tampon would be. Normally she’d be naked. She had to bend to slip the silver mirror boots off. When she stepped out of them, she took another step back and placed her hands on her hips.

  “Do you like what you see, Mr. Maitland?”

  “Words fail me.”

  “Don’t let them. Tell me if you like what you see?”

  “You are so damned beautiful, Myra. I fantasized for years about what you’d look like. And nothing I ever dreamed came close to the reality.”

  “Tell me what you’re going to do to me.”

  She wasn’t smiling but I couldn’t help it.

  I took one step toward her and she froze me in my tracks with nothing more than a glance from those emerald eyes.

  “I’m going to kiss and stroke and suck and squeeze those huge breasts of yours and I’m going to fill those luscious mouth of yours with my penis and you’re going to suck and lick until I can’t stand it anymore. And when the time is right, I’m going to lay you down on a bed or any other horizontal surface and spread those legs of yours and hammer my dick into you until you scream. For starters.”

  “And do you think I want that?”

  “Yeah, I think you do. I think you want it bad.”

  She finally took a small step toward me.

  “And again, what do you think I want from you?”

  “To suck me and when we can, to fuck me.”

  “Do you think I want candlelight and flowers and sweet fucking gestures that make me want to cry?”

  “No.”

  She turned and gestured at the white rose, adding, “Then why do you do things like that, Bill?”

  “It’s hard not to do things like that for you, Myra.”

  She was in my arms, her insane curves molding themselves against me as she tried to swallow my tongue. And then pulled back to arm's length. She stared deeply into my eyes.

  “I can be your fuck buddy and drain you of every drop of semen you’ll ever produce. And I can be and I am your friend. I like you and respect you as much as any man I’ve ever known. But I can’t love you, and you can’t love me, Bill. I told you that at the beach. There can’t be anything between us but friendship and fantastic fucking sex.”

  I knew enough not to ask her why, to ask her any questions. Because I knew instinctively that if I overstepped the boundaries she had set, she’d be gone. Without a word of explanation. And call me weak, but the sight of those breasts , those hips, those curvy legs and that fantastic ass, made it impossible to push her. My curiosity was killing me. But I’d survive that.

  I stepped forward and pulled her into my arms.

  “No more white roses, or talk about how wonderful you are. No more tears. We are just two friends who love to fuck. Okay?”

  A smile lit her face for the first time since she’d opened the door. It lit up her condo. Fuck buddies would be alright. I could live with that.

  She slid down to her knees and unzipped me. With a little difficulty she was able to slip my throbbing erection out and began sliding her small hands and gentle fingers up and down it, then breathed hotly on it.

  “I gather.” I whispered, “we’re not going right out to get something to eat?”

  “You aren’t,” she said with a soft laugh before swooping down on my cock and attempting to pleasurably devour it.

  I wondered if my blood pressure would keep me upright when she upped the ante and raised herself against me, lifted her heavy breasts and captured my hardness between them and slowly ran their yielding warmth down it until it wound up vanishing into the fevered interior of her mouth again.

  And then she rubbed and squeezed and massaged me with those incredibly soft, yielding mounds. All I could do was lean back against the door and make and release fists and finally groan as I began to spurt. When she finally pulled away and grinned up at me, I could only breathe harshly. When I got my breath back, I said, “if you’re going to keep on doing that, give me time to up my life insurance for my kids.”

  As I slid on my ass to land on the f
loor, she reached out with one hand to run one finger over my lower lip and laughed, saying, “At least you’d make your name in the history books – first man ever slain by a blow job.”

  “There are other ways I’d rather make my name in the history books. Like, first man to ever make the woman with the greatest breasts in the history of the world orgasm 100 times consecutively.”

  As I reached out for her she scooted away from me on her hands and knees and stood, gathering up her clothes a few feet away.

  “No. I spent some time on my hair and I’ve going to have to re-apply my lipstick AND get dressed again. If we weren’t going out…but I want to look nice.”

  I pushed myself to my feet.

  “What the hell is it with women? If you went out in a potato sack, you’d outshine every other woman out there. If you went out there naked, I’d need a police detail to keep you safe.”

  “Women don’t dress for men, you know that. We could walk around in potato sacks if all we were worried about was attracting the male eye. You guys are so easy. We dress for other women. As I said, I want to look nice. Now…”

  “I could help you dress.”

  “No. I know how that would end. And I told you, it would get really messy and we’d both have to take showers and – honestly, I’d need to clean the shower because I wouldn’t want the condo cleaning people to see – what I’d leave behind. I want to go out tonight. Just watch some TV until I’m ready.”

  I thought about it then looked toward the windows that overlooked the condo.

  “I think I’ll wander downstairs. Just hang at the pools for a few minutes.”

  She gave me a funny look.

  “I hate to tell you this, Bill, but it’s too cold for most of the sweet young, nearly naked things, to be hanging out there. I think you’ll be alone. Fortunately.”

  “You wound me. After what just happened, you think I’d be looking for someone else.”