I could tell her family had indeed lived in a bigger, older home at one time, as the place was filled to overflowing with early American antiques. With the open-beam wood ceilings and all, the antiques looked great, and I would have moved into that house in a second. It was the sort of home I might have one day owned myself, if I hadn’t gotten into this mess.
The house had a strongly masculine look to it, with wood dominating both in the open ceilings and paneled walls. Even the master bedroom shared by man and wife had a dark, manly look to it. But the final room she took me to was so different in appearance it almost belonged in another house.
The only wood in the room was the open-beam ceiling, and the sliding doors of the closet, and this wood was that same dark masculine stuff prevalent through the rest of the house. But there was no wood paneling in here. In its place was ultra-feminine blue and white flowery wallpaper, with dark blue curtains on the windows and a matching blue, ruffly-skirted bedspread. The blue in the room was approximately the same color as Sue Ann’s eyes. The furniture was antiqued white wood: a dresser with oversize mirror; a chest of drawers; and a canopy bed. Double bed. The floor was carpeted in fluffy stuff that looked like whipped egg whites. It was a large room, as large as the master bedroom; an only child’s room. Very tidy, almost fussily so, except for a big bulletin board on one wall, haphazardly covered with withered corsages, buttons with funny sayings and/or school-related club names, and a lot of photographs of Sue Ann, as a cheerleader, majorette and in school plays, several apparently from that high school production of South Pacific she’d mentioned.
“This is your bedroom,” I said. (I catch onto things quick, as you may have noticed.)
“I said I saved the best for last, silly,” she said. She turned around. “Unsnap me.”
“Unwhat you?”
“Unsnap me. And then unzip me, too.”
She shimmied out of the sparkly majorette uniform. It lay in a patriotic puddle at her feet. She was wearing sheer panties under the uniform, but not for long.
She stood with her hands on her hips and let me take a long, lustful look at a perfect young female body, which she apparently was very proud of. And rightly so. Her skin was pale, but in a healthy way, and she was lean and shapely and smooth looking.
“Now don’t get any ideas,” she said.
I stood there for a moment and thought about what to make of a girl who takes off her clothes and says don’t get any ideas.
“I just thought that since I saw you naked, you ought to get to see me naked.”
“That seems fair.”
“But I think we ought to get to know each other a little better before it goes any farther than just looking. Don’t you, Fred?”
“I’m enjoying just looking. I’ll settle for looking.”
She came up and pressed herself against me and put her arms around my neck and gave me a kiss that would’ve melted a statue.
“Well,” she said, nibbling my ear, “I guess we could sort of get in bed and just neck a little. That wouldn’t hurt. But nothing else. Just neck a little.”
“That would be nice,” I said.
“Why don’t you just go ahead and take your clothes off, too. I think that would make the necking more pleasant, don’t you? But we’ll have to be good.”
“I think we could be good,” I said.
“At least,” she agreed.
I took off my clothes.
She got in bed and so did I and we necked. Nothing else. Just necked.
And if you buy that, I got some jewelry in the car to show you.
Chapter 30
I was not supposed to be in Sue Ann’s bed. I was supposed to be sitting on a bench in the park, watching things, the bank in particular.
But I was glad I was in Sue Ann’s bed, and not just for the obvious reasons, either. I was glad to get Sue Ann away from that crowded park, where she would be likely to introduce me to more and more of her friends, where eventually the streaking bit was bound to come up, in which case I could find myself all of a sudden a minor celebrity. The center of attention. Which clearly wouldn’t do.
Furthermore, I had no choice but to follow Sue Ann wherever she might choose to lead me (even into bed) because my presence in Wynning was explainable to her only by my being there to see her. So what else could I do but see her?
The unpleasant coincidence of her father being the local banker seemed somewhat irrelevant, as far as the immediate situation was concerned. It had its good side in that Sue Ann and I were guaranteed privacy in their house; but it also had its bad side, as eventually Sue Ann might discover the real purpose for my presence in Wynning, and her opinion of me would probably change.
At any rate, there was nothing I could do about being stuck in Sue Ann’s bed except enjoy myself. I even began to think everything might work out for the good, should Elam and Hopp get themselves caught and have the courtesy not to implicate Wheat and me. After all, I had an excuse for being here. Sue Ann. And Wheat had an excuse for being here, too: he was my friend, and along for the ride.
So I began to loosen up a little, put the worrying aside for a while, though the credit for that had to go to Sue Ann. I whole-heartedly recommend a few hours in bed with a beautiful girl to any guy caught up in a hopeless mess. It’s a terrific way to get your mind off your problems.
After that first hour in bed, Sue Ann asked me if I’d like some lunch.
Cotton candy was all I`d had to eat today, and since I seemed to have worked up an appetite somehow or other, I accepted her offer and we went down to the kitchen where Sue Ann made a submarine sandwich, a huge one stuffed with cheese and salami and lettuce and tomatoes and sweet peppers, and we shared it.
Sue Ann was sitting across the table from me, nibbling at her sandwich, wearing a baby blue terrycloth robe (I was in a similar, white robe—her father’s—and I admit I didn’t feel particularly comfortable wearing it). In between nibbles, she’d ask me questions about myself. Was I still in college? What were my plans when I got out? Did I have any other, serious girl friend? Questions like that. It was pleasant answering such questions. Made me feel alive again. I asked her what her aspirations were. She wanted to be either an actress or a wife. If the latter, she’d like to be married to an actor or somebody else famous or rich or both. She’d been going with a Shaker Saltz type named Bo Bo Harper, a Little All-American football player, but they had broken up several weeks ago, and for good: he was heading off to Michigan State on a scholarship and wanted to “date around” but Sue Ann was all or nothing, monogamous or forget it, Bo Bo. Her immediate plans were college at the University of Iowa, since she had graduated from high school that June.
The conversation went on like that. Nothing spectacular. I remember every word of it, and could bore you with it if you insist. But why not just leave it this way: we were getting to know each other, in a backwards way I admit, since we’d just come down from her bedroom; but nevertheless getting to know each other is what we were doing.
The impression Sue Ann had given me, up till now, was that she was not terribly bright and was somewhat conceited. Now that I was getting to know her better, I found I’d been right.
I also found I liked her.
For one thing, she was beautiful. The Sue Ann Wynnings of the world have not generally invited me to their bedrooms so early in the game. Or late in the game, either, if you must know. So her being beautiful, and her willingness to share her beauty with me, had a lot to do with my forgiving her flaws.
That is, if you consider her being less than genius material a flaw. The dumb blonde stereotype has always been attractive to me, and if Sue Ann fit that stereotype a little, it only enhanced her beauty in my eyes. And besides, she was no dummy. She was an A- student in high school, she said (although with her looks even her grade average may have come easy) and I began to realize her dumb blonde appearance was at least partially an appealing affectation, made so by the naive, practically childlike side of her which gave her an aur
a of innocence even as she was inviting me under the covers with her.
That same quality of innocence took the edge off her conceit, too. She was pleased with her good looks, but not obnoxious about it.
Anyway, after lunch we went back to bed, and then after while I did something that was very, very stupid.
I fell asleep.
Chapter 31
Voices woke me.
I sat up, startled. Startled to hear voices. Startled to find I’d fallen asleep.
It was dark in the room. That startled me, too. Where was the sunlight? This morning and afternoon, sunlight had filtered in through the semi-sheer curtains. Where was it now? I got out of bed, went to the window, parted the curtains. Darkness.
Also known as night.
Meanwhile, the voices were continuing. A male voice. And Sue Ann’s voice. Seemed to be coming from the living room, which was down the hall, down a brief flight of steps to the lower part of the split level. I could make out no words. Just Sue Ann’s voice and a male voice.
A low, rumbling, mature-sounding male voice. An older man’s voice.
Damn!
Her father?
That couldn’t be her father, could it?
I decided to put on my clothes.
I decided also to make the bed.
Then I went to the dresser and pulled the chair out and sat down and tried to think.
I had fallen asleep. Okay. An idiotic thing to do, but understandable. I’d had little or no sleep the night before. I’d spent the morning getting caught up in a situation that became ever more taxing with each turn of the screw.
So I had dozed off. But for how long?
A clock on Sue Ann’s dresser answered my question: it was a quarter after eight.
Which meant I’d slept for around seven hours.
Seven hours! I felt numb at the thought. I felt like passing out, but I couldn’t allow myself the luxury: it might be another seven hours before I came out of it!
I wondered what had happened while I was asleep.
I wondered what Wheat was up to. I wondered how Elam had made out as a fill-in cook. I wondered how well Hopp had managed to disappear into a bingo game that I assumed must’ve otherwise consisted of little old ladies.
I wondered if anyone had discovered the people tied up in the bank.
I wondered if one of those people belonged to the deep male voice talking to Sue Ann down in the bowels of the house.
I wondered if they let you play cards in prison.
Footsteps.
The door opened.
Sue Ann.
She was wearing a scoop-neck calico blue tee-shirt top, and snug-fitting blue jeans. She looked cute and sexy and a little tired.
She smiled and came over and gave me a kiss. Not a hot one this time. Just a hello kiss.
She said, “I see you’re up and dressed. And you made the bed, too. I bet you heard me talking to Uncle Phil and got scared, didn’t you! Don’t be such a silly. Come on down and say hi.”
“Do you, uh, think that’s wise?”
“My uncle doesn’t care what I do with my boy friends, silly. He’s very hip. But, heck, you know that. I mean, you’ve met him before.”
“I have?”
“He told me so, when I mentioned you were here. He seemed delighted. He’s waiting downstairs to see you.”
“Sue Ann, I have never met your uncle.”
“Look, I’ve already figured out how you found out about me, if you’re still trying to keep that a secret.”
“I’m really not following this at all, Sue Ann.”
“Hey, now, don’t be mad at Uncle Phil for telling on you. He didn’t say a word. I figured it out myself.”
“You did?”
“Sure! When I found out you’d been to his house, I knew why you’d gone over there. I knew you looked Uncle Phil up so you could find out about me. So now I know, and you’re afraid some of the romance has gone out of it, right? Don’t be silly. And don’t pout! I’d have made you tell me yourself, sooner or later.”
“Really, Sue Ann, I...”
“Come on,” she said, grabbing my hand and pulling me out of the chair. “He’s waiting to say hi. Come on!”
I gave up. I offered absolutely no resistance, and let her lead me down the hall, down the steps, into the living room. Where a heavy-set man was rising off the sofa and extending a hand. He was not a good-looking man. He had a little head on his big body, a receding hairline, bulging eyes, wide mouth. He was wearing the same yellow shirt and tan shorts he’d been wearing the day I met him at his home.
“Well, well!” DeKalb ’s Chief of Police said, cheerfully. “If it isn’t my little girl’s favorite reception guest!”
Chapter 32
There was no time to be surprised or shocked or anything. Besides, by this point I was pretty well used to having the worst happen. And I guessed this must be the worst yet.
“So you’ve taken a shine to my little niece, huh?” the Chief (or Uncle Phil, as Sue Ann thought of him) said. “Can’t say as I blame you. Tell me, if you marry her, are you going to have the reception at the Holiday Inn?” And he laughed boisterously.
I laughed too, but I’m afraid mine was more along the lines of hysterical.
Neither Sue Ann nor her uncle caught that, however, and the Chief put a hand on my shoulder and said, “You look a little worried, son. I hope it’s not because of me.”
I said, “Well, uh...”
Sue Ann said, “Why should he be worried because of you, Uncle Phil?”
The Chief said, “I’m an officer of the law, honey, and he’s afraid I might interfere with what he’s doing here.” My knees began to knock. Knees really can do that, you know.
Sue Ann said, “I don’t get you, Uncle Phil.”
“Kitchen here does,” the Chief said, and winked at me, and punched my arm playfully. “But don’t you worry, son. I don’t have any jurisdiction here. I’m just another Wynning boy come home to roost for the big celebration. Sue Ann’s dad and me are great-great nephews of the man who founded this little town. We never actually lived here, of course, but like a lot of people named Wynning scattered here and there around the countryside, we make a thing of getting here for the annual Founder’s Day blow-out. Sue Ann’s dad always wanted to retire to here, and I guess he has at that. Anyway, frankly, I think what you’re here for’ll be great for the town. Terrific publicity, what with all the reporters around.” And he narrowed his eyes conspiratorially and said, “Just don’t get caught.”
“Uh... uh, I’ll do my best, sir,” I said. I wasn’t sure I was hearing this. Why on earth would the DeKalb Police Chief want to help me get away with robbing a bank? Was he crazy, or was it me? Or both of us? Or was I still sleeping up in Sue Ann’s canopy bed?
He punched me on the arm again. I wasn’t asleep. He grinned and said, “Well, I hate to run, but it’s well after eight, and the big watermelon-eating contest is at eight-thirty, and I don’t want to miss that. See you kids later. And Sue Ann?”
“Yes, Uncle Phil?”
“You give your daddy hell when he gets home tonight, for skipping out today. Isn’t like him to miss Founder’s Day. And I thought he was supposed to be taking it easy these days. What’s he running around the countryside on business for, anyhow? The mercenary so-and-so.”
Sue Ann said she’d relay that message, and her uncle pumped my hand, looked right at me and laughed like I was the funniest thing he’d ever seen, advised me again not to get caught, and left.
We sat on the couch. Sue Ann did not seem as puzzled as I was, so I asked her, “What was he talking about?”
“About not getting caught? What do you think? He knows you’re here to see me. He knows we’ve been alone together all afternoon in the house. He probably means don’t let my daddy catch you and me in my bedroom, silly. What else could he mean?”
“Oh, I don’t know.”
“He’s a fantastic uncle. Really great. I mean, look at his atti
tude about when you streaked my cousin’s wedding.”
Cousin’s wedding? Okay. Okay... now Uncle Phil the DeKalb Police Chief was making sense to me. I hadn’t had the time to put it together before.
Sue Ann had been staying at the Holiday Inn in DeKalb because she was there for the wedding. That’s what she’d been talking about earlier, when she said she knew how I figured out where she lived. She thought I had checked at the Holiday Inn to get her name, and that I’d found out she was the niece of the DeKalb Police Chief, and that I’d looked up the Chief to find out more about her.
“Tell me, Sue Ann,” I said. “Why weren’t you at the reception? Why were you in your swimming suit when I bumped into you?” Which of course was the reason why I hadn’t thought of connecting her to the wedding.
“I’d already been there,” she explained. “It was just a lot of old people, and boring relatives, and my cousin Kathy and her husband are older than I am too, so even the young guests were old. Clear into their twenties.”
“I’m twenty-one, Sue Ann.”
“But you don’t seem that old, silly.”
But I feel older, I thought. Much older.
“Anyway,” she continued, “I got bored and left. So did Mom. We caught heck later, because we missed out on the family picture. Either way, I guess you and me would’ve run into each other, huh?”
“I guess so.”
“Uncle Phil was tickled by all the publicity you got him by doing that at Kathy’s reception. It saved him money on the wedding pictures.”
“Yeah, he told me.”
“Are you getting tired of hanging around here? You want to go back and do some of the Founder’s Day stuff?”
“Maybe we should. Listen, I got to think for a few minutes. You suppose you could get me something to drink? A Coke or some ice tea or maybe some coffee?”
“Sure!”
She trotted off, and I sat and tried to put some more pieces together.
I doubted the Chief (Uncle Phil) had been talking about Sue Ann and me fooling around when he advised me not to get caught. But it was insanity to think he’d caught onto the robbery somehow and was not blowing the whistle because he liked me or thought it’d be good publicity for Wynning or something.
Shoot The Moon (and more) Page 11
