Body Rides (80 page)

‘Aren’t ya gonna put ’em on?’

‘They won’t stay up. Let’s go.’

Marta in the lead, Sue close behind her, they ran to the corner of the house and through the dark orchard.

So much time had gone by since the gunfire that they hardly expected to encounter police. But they worried. They listened. They heard no sirens, no racing engines, no slamming doors, no footfalls, no urgent voices.

They heard only their own rough breathing and the quiet metallic sounds from the pockets of Neal’s shorts: the clatter of loose .380 rounds clicking against each other and the pistol; the tinkling of her keys.

At the front gate, they stopped.

They listened.

Marta stepped out to the street and looked both ways. ‘We’re okay,’ she whispered. Then she raised the shorts in front of her and dug into one of the pockets. She pulled out her key case. ‘You drive, okay?’

‘Sure.’

She tossed the keys to Sue.

As Sue climbed into the driver’s seat, Marta leaned over the passenger side. She dropped the shorts and snatched up the Creeper’s cape. Standing up straight, she unfurled it. She swept it behind her body, wrapped it around her front.

It stuck to her damp skin.

Sue, starting the engine, looked back at her. And smiled. And said, ‘Super Marta.’

To which Marta sang out in a whisper, ‘Here I come to save the day!’

And thought,
Oh God, if only I could’ve saved Neal
.

As Sue thought,
You oughta be here, Neal. It ain’t fair
.

Wrapped in the black cape, Marta climbed over the top of the door and dropped into the passenger seat.

Sue stepped on the gas. The Jeep took off with a lurch.

In the days that followed, two major incidents vied with the O.J. Simpson murder trial for news coverage in the Los Angeles area.

The lesser incident involved a shootout in which a carload of gang-bangers opened fire on a young man named Neal Darden, who was apparently out late at night returning rental movies to Video City. In an unusual twist of events, the victim happened to be armed. Though fatally wounded himself, his return fire and the resulting auto crash caused the deaths of all four of his assailants.

Neal Darden became an overnight hero to many citizens of Los Angeles. Others considered him a vigilante and no better than those who had killed him.

Nobody connected Neal’s death to the butchery that occurred the same night in the nearby community of Brentwood.

Those killings weren’t discovered until the next day when a young woman dropped by to pay condolences to Vince Conrad over the recent death of his wife. Conrad’s wife, former Olympic diving great Elise Waters, had met her own grisly demise at the same house earlier in the week.

The woman, Pamela Goodwin, an actress who’d worked with Conrad on the recent film,
Dead Man’s Tale
, entered the property just before noon on Friday and discovered the remains of an unidentified white male in the backyard swimming pool. Inside the house, she found the body of Vince Conrad. Like the stranger, he had been horribly mutilated.

The police claimed to be working on several leads.

Pressed for more information, they stated that certain similarities in the crimes indicated that Vince and the stranger had most likely been victims of the same killer or killers who had butchered Elise Waters the previous Sunday night.

They refused to say more.

But several grisly details of the killings leaked out.

There was talk of another Manson family on the loose.

Gun sales in Southern California soared.

Time after time, on radio talk shows, callers remarked that they’d like to see the torture-killers run smack-dab into a guy like Neal Darden.

Neal’s funeral was to take place near the home of his parents in Larkspur, some four hundred miles north of Los Angeles.

Marta and Sue decided to avoid it.

Neither of them had ever met his parents, and this didn’t seem like a good time to introduce themselves.

Particularly since the services were certain to be mobbed by gawkers and the press.

They were also worried about the police. Rumors floated about that females as well as males may have been involved in the Brentwood slayings. Though nobody seemed to be suggesting a link between Neal and the homicides at the Conrad house, the police might be keeping quiet about a few things. Marta and Sue thought it could be risky to show up at Neal’s funeral.

Especially since pictures were sure to be taken.

Pictures were taken, all right.

CNN carried live coverage. The funeral was covered on the nightly news by every network. Within a day or two of the funeral,
A Current Affair, Hard Copy
, and
American Journal
all devoted stories to Neal.

Though some of his neighbors were interviewed for the magazine shows, nobody seemed to know the name of his mysterious girlfriend who apparently worked for an airline.

One of Neal’s neighbors, a young woman named Karen who lived down the block, told an interviewer that she’d known Neal well. ‘He was such a sweetheart,’ she said, blinking tears from her eyes. ‘I’m going to miss him.’

‘That must be the gal he slugged,’ Sue said.

‘The one who gets it on with her brother?’

‘Yeah, that’s gotta be her. Lyin through her teeth.’

‘Who says she’s lying?’ Marta asked. ‘Maybe she really does think Neal’s a sweetheart.’

‘Reckon it’s possible. To know him was to love him.’

One night, after brushing her teeth, Marta entered the bedroom and found Sue crying. The bedside lamp was on. Sue was covered to the waist by a sheet. Her back was bare, her face buried in a pillow.

Seeing the bracelet on her right upper arm, Marta thought at first that she might be away on a body ride. Ever since Neal’s death, Sue had been using the bracelet again and again to escape from her misery. Maybe she was crying now in response to the grief of a stranger.

Marta lay down beside her, and gently rubbed her back.

Sue turned her head.

Not off riding, after all
.

‘You okay?’ Marta asked.

‘I’m just sad, that’s all.’

‘Neal?’

‘Yeah.’

‘I miss him, too.’

‘I hardly even got to
know
him. It ain’t fair. Three days. That’s all we ever had. I figured we’d spend our
lives
together. But all we had was only just three days.’

‘I know,’ Marta whispered. ‘I know.’ She glided her hand up the smoothness of Sue’s back and gently squeezed her neck. ‘At least we’ll have his baby.’

‘
Yer
gonna have his baby, not me.’

‘Maybe you’ll have one, too.’

‘I ain’t gonna hold my breath.’

Trying to smile, Marta said, ‘You might try holding it till after you get your next period.’

‘I want
Neal
.’

‘Come here,’ Marta whispered.

Sue turned onto her side, and Marta slid in against her. As they held each other, Sue continued to cry. Marta cradled her head with
one hand. With the other, she stroked her back. Sue’s tears soaked through the chest of Marta’s nightshirt.

After a while, Marta said, ‘Maybe he
is
inside one of us.’

‘I sure hope so.’ Sue sniffed. ‘I think about it all the time.’

‘Me, too.’

‘I . . . I talk to him, you know? In my head. Do you do that?’

‘I sure do.’

‘But he don’t answer.’

‘I know,’ Marta said. ‘But he can’t.’

‘Wish he would, anyhow.’

‘Wouldn’t that be great?’

‘Do ya look at yerself in mirrors?’ Sue asked.

‘So he can see me? Sure. I do a lot of stuff like that. Thinking maybe he’s in there. Yesterday, I danced naked in front of a mirror.’

‘Did ya?’ Sue sniffed again. She no longer seemed to be crying.

‘For Neal. In case he’s in me.’

‘What else have ya done?’

Shrugging, Marta felt the wet place on her nightshirt pull at her breast.

‘Fool around with yerself?’

Marta blushed. ‘Hey.’

‘I do. Wanta keep him happy.’

‘I know.’ Marta said.

‘You do it, too?’

‘Yeah.’

Sue laughed softly. Her breath felt hot through Marta’s nightshirt. ‘One thing for sure, he ain’t in both of us.’

‘Not likely.’

‘So either you or me’s goin to a lotta trouble for nothin.’

‘Maybe both of us,’ Marta told her.

Neither of them spoke for a while after that. Marta wished she hadn’t said it. She held Sue gently against her.

Then Sue said, ‘Sometimes, I’d swear he’s in me. I can
feel
him inside. Makes me feel real good, and I don’t even miss him for a spell. Only thing is, then I get to thinkin how maybe he ain’t in me, after all – and how I’m just pretendin he is.’

‘I know. That happens to me, too.’

‘Like I’m kiddin myself.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Then I feel just so empty and lonesome . . .’

Marta lowered her face down against the tickle of Sue’s hair, and kissed the top of her head. ‘It’s all right,’ she whispered.

‘It ain’t that I don’t love
you
.’

‘It’s all right.’

‘It’s just . . . I miss Neal so
bad
.’

‘I do, too,’ Marta whispered.

‘If I only just knew for sure about him . . .’

‘I’ll do it,’ Marta said.

Sue stiffened slightly, raised her face and met Marta’s eyes. ‘Will ya?’

‘If you’re sure you really want me to.’

She suddenly smiled. ‘Yer the greatest!’

‘I know.’

Letting out a soft laugh, Sue rolled onto her back and slid the bracelet down from her upper arm. ‘Y’always said ya’d never do it.’

‘I changed my mind.’

Sue pulled the bracelet off her hand.

Marta took it and stretched out on her back. She slipped the gold, coiled snake over her bandaged right hand.

Sue, turning onto her side, propped herself up on an elbow. She had a wonderful eagerness in her eyes.

‘Just try not to be too disappointed if I don’t find him in you,’ Marta said.

‘C’mon and do it.’

‘You haven’t found him in me or anyone else you’ve tried,’ Marta reminded her.

‘Not yet, but I’ll keep lookin.’

‘All I want to say is, it doesn’t prove much. Even if he
is
inside you or me, maybe it’s impossible to detect him.’

‘Well, see if ya detect him in
me
.’

‘Just . . . he might be in you, even if I don’t find him. Remember that. So don’t . . . abandon your belief. Okay?’

‘I won’t, I won’t. C’mon and do it!’

‘All right. Here goes.’

Marta took a deep breath, let it out slowly, then raised her hand above her face and kissed the bracelet.

Sue smiled as Marta’s arm flopped to the mattress.

‘
Howdy
,’ she greeted Marta in her mind. ‘
How ya like it in here?
’

She expected no answer, and didn’t get one.

‘
Any sign of Neal? Well, take yer time. Scout around. No hurry. Just relax and enjoy yerself
.’