Sintown Chronicles II: Through Bedroom Windows (11 page)

“My God, Eddie. Don't you ever get enough?” she grumbled sleepily while trying to focus on the clock radio. “It's three o'clock in the morning, for crying out loud."

“You're right, Greta,” he said. “If anyone ever needed her beauty rest, it's you. Go back to sleep."

He lay back on his pillow, forced himself to stay awake until he heard her breathing rhythmically, reset the clock, and dropped into a deep slumber.

“Well, the bastard certainly wiped out my breakfast and lunch crowds,” Dottie grumbled to June who was sitting on a counter stool, having no customers to wait on.

“They'll be back tomorrow,” June replied hopefully. “It's hard to turn down a free meal."

“June, sweetheart, your complexion is clearing up nicely, but you have a huge whitehead right between your eyes. I'll give you a quarter if you'll let me pop it."

June blushed and ducked her head. “Dr. McGee says not to pop my bumps. She says that is what has caused so many scars on my face."

“How about fifty cents?"

June smiled and shook her head.

Dottie's eyes twinkled. “What do you say we lock up the place and go get ourselves a free T-bone?"

The teenager giggled. “Sounds like a good idea to me."

Since the Korner Kafe was only three blocks away, the two women walked, enjoying the fresh air of the mid April day. When the restaurant was in sight they were glad they left their cars behind—the parking lot was jammed.

Customers filled every seat and the line of people waiting extended through the entrance door. Dottie and June stood behind Rita Holder, Sandra Dollar and Sandra's son, Junior.

“You caught us, Dottie,” Rita said.

“We're here for the free meal too,” Dottie laughed. “I'm going to order the most expensive thing on the menu."

Rita laughed, but Sandra's mood seemed somber.

“Cheer up, Sandy,” Dottie said. “I'll forgive you this one little transgression."

Sandra turned to Dottie and with tears in her eyes said, “Someone murdered Adele Elliott last night."

“Don't cry, Mommy,” Junior pleaded as he tugged at her leg.

Dottie gasped and clutched her hands to her chest. “Do they know who did it?"

“Not a clue,” Sandra replied. “He came in through a living room window and smothered her with a pillow."

“Adele was alone?"

Sandra nodded. “She was nearly hysterical yesterday after Bobby died. Dr. McGee gave her a sedative and a prescription for sleeping pills. Tim got the prescription filled for her. We tried to convince her to let someone spend the night with her, but she insisted on being alone. Carl stayed until midnight, but she finally ran him off too."

“First Bobby and now Adele,” Dottie said shaking her head.

“Someone had it in for the two of them. That should give the detectives something to go on,” Leora Borders added.

“Hello, Leora,” Dottie said. “I didn't see you standing there."

“Like everybody else, I collect coupons and always take advantage of free trial offers,” Leora joked.

“Sandy, wasn't Adele your housekeeper and babysitter?” Dottie asked.

Sandra nodded. “Most of all she was a good friend. She'll be hard to replace. Tim and I have offered a $100,000 reward for information leading to the conviction of the beast who did this. It'll be announced on all the Charlotte TV stations during tonight's six o'clock news programs."

“Borders was a good detective,” Leora said. “Still is. I've been trying to get him to come out of retirement long enough to solve this case."

“If memory serves, you're a good detective yourself,” Sandra commented.

“I was lucky that one time,” Leora replied, “but I'm afraid I won't be able to help much with this one. I have been so tied up writing the history of the church I've lost touch with most everything else."

A dozen or more people came out of the restaurant and, when they saw Dottie, turned their faces or studied their shoe tops as they passed her. The waiting line surged forward.

“Was she ... was she raped?” Leora asked.

Sandra shook her head. “She was molested. Her gown was cut away and her right breast seemed to have been bruised, but initially there is no evidence that she was actually raped. They're doing an autopsy as we speak."

“I don't claim to be psychic,” Leora said, “but I sense there is something you are not telling us."

Sandra nodded again as the line moved forward.

Dottie looked up and saw customers leaving from the far exit door. Cowards, she thought.

“The sleeping pill bottle was on the bedside table. It was empty. It's possible the murderer forced her to swallow them, but if so, why would he smother her? It looks like she tried to commit suicide. The murderer just helped her achieve her goal.” Sandra began to sob and Dottie hugged the taller woman tightly.

When Dottie and June finally sat at the counter, they ordered T-bone steaks with all the trimmings. “Aren't you one of the people who joined the church yesterday?” Dottie asked the waitress.

“Yes ma'am. Name's Greta, uh, Crow. I'm really working with housekeeping for the motel, but they were so busy they have me working in here today."

“Ah, Mrs. Frank,” George Bennett greeted after the meals were served. “So good of you to join us. Checking out the competition?"

“I don't call this tough steak much competition,” she replied.

His brow creased momentarily. “If it's tough, let me get you another."

“Forget it,” she said as she sipped her glass of ice tea. “Tea's too strong too."

“You're the first to complain,” he smiled.

“You don't look good, George,” she commented.

“I am tired. I've been at it since five this morning and the place has been crowded from the moment we opened."

“You're too old for this business,” she said. “You should take your own advice and retire."

“No, I'm just out of shape. I'll get my working legs back under me in a few days.” He smiled at June and wished he could reach out and pop the huge pimple between her eyebrows. “Who's minding the store?"

“You know damn well I have no business with you giving away food."

“My offer is still good, you know,” he said.

“Cram it up you scrawny ass,” she spit back.

He leaned across the counter and placed his lips close to her ear. “It may come as a surprise to you, but I have something I'd love to cram up yours,” he whispered.

She couldn't believe he stuck his tongue in her ear. “You damned fool,” she hissed as those sitting nearby turned their heads. “With that young thing you have living with you, you don't need my butt to screw."

George's eyes flamed with anger. “You're off base, Dottie. You can toss zingers at me all you like, but you leave Maggie out of it. She's the most wonderful young lady I have ever known.” He stomped off and disappeared into the kitchen.

“You don't really think..."

“June, honey. Like they say, where there's smoke there's fire. Look at her over there, handing out menus and acting like she owns the place. Mark my words, she's screwing him and when the time is right, she'll take him for all he's worth."

“What cha doing?” Borders asked as he rambled into Leora's study.

“Working on the church history,” she replied absent-mindedly. “I thought you were going to meet me for lunch."

“I was with the boys in Charlotte, again. I waited for the autopsy results to come in on the Elliott woman. I guess you've heard."

Leora nodded.

“She may have been raped. There was lubricant in her vagina similar to that used on certain brands of condoms. It also appears she took an overdose of sleeping pills before the murderer finished her off."

“That's old news. Sandra Dollar told me today at the Korner Kafe. Did anything else come up?"

“Yeah,” he said smugly. “They fixed the time of death between three and four this morning. These young whippersnappers aren't too good at being bloodhounds. I guarantee you, the killer of Bobby and Adele is one and the same person. This morning I wandered across the tobacco field to the spot we think the sniper was located when he shot Bobby. I followed crushed brush and broken twigs back to an old logging road. The thing exits onto the Old Charlotte Road just below the lumberyard."

She looked up expectantly. “And?"

He looked at her without speaking.

“Any footprints or tire tracks?"

“What do you expect from this old dog?"

“I expect you to find the killer."

“I've retired, remember?"

“I remember, but do you? You spend an awfully lot of time at headquarters."

“Those guys are my friends, Leora."

“I wasn't complaining. Sandra and Tim Dollar are offering a $100,000 reward."

“Hmmm. I hadn't heard that. Maybe I
should
come out of retirement. I'd make a hell of a private detective.” He absently selected a photograph from those spread out on her desk, glanced at it casually and replaced it. “That's a rogues gallery if I ever saw one."

She laughed. “I want to include pictures of all the former pastors in my book. I have shots of all but the first, an Elder Rufus Mabe, and the one who preceded Mack—Reverend John Baxter."

“You'll probably never find a photo of the first guy, but somebody should have a picture of Baxter."

“You'd think. However, he was the pastor of the church for just a few months. He left town unexpectedly without saying goodbye. No one seems to have heard from him since."

“Why don't you put an appeal in the church newsletter? Surely, somebody has a snapshot with him in it. With all that computer equipment your son has, he could scan a photograph and crop out this guy's mug."

Detective Bud Cranfield pushed through the plate glass door, removed his wide brimmed hat, and surveyed the afternoon diners at the Korner Kafe.

“Table, booth or counter?” Maggie asked as she approached, extending a menu in his direction.

“No thank you,” he said. “I'm looking for Eddie Crow. I understand he works here."

“Yes, sir,” Maggie replied pleasantly. “Everything on the menu is free today and, as you can imagine, we've been swamped. I believe Eddie and his wife are out back on the loading dock taking a well deserved cigarette break."

“Thank you ma'am,” Cranfield said as he raised his index finger to tip the hat he forgot he was no longer wearing.

As he turned to leave, Maggie said, “You can go through the kitchen if you like."

He nodded and followed her. As the delicious aroma of various foods filtered through his nostrils, he made a mental note to return for supper.

“Mr. Crow,” he said to the bearded man seated on the edge of the loading dock, “I am Detective Cranfield with the Mecklenburg County Sheriff's Department."

“We've met,” Eddie replied gruffly without standing or offering to shake hands. He took a long drag from his cigarette, flipped it away and asked, “What do you want this time?"

“Where were you this morning between three and four o'clock,” Cranfield asked.

“Where do you think I was, Copper? I was at home in bed, fast asleep."

“The hell you were,” Greta laughed.

Cranfield turned to her expectantly.

“I ... I was just joking."

“Go on,” Cranfield insisted.

“He was in bed at three o'clock all right, but he wasn't asleep. He was trying his best to have sex with me."

“You're certain of the time?"

She nodded. “We have this clock radio with green lighted numerals. It was exactly three o'clock when he woke me up."

“Boy,” Maggie said with a sigh, “It's been a huge success, but I am glad this day is over."

George smiled weakly as he shoveled a forkful of mashed potatoes into his mouth.

She reached across the table, and touched his hand. “You okay?"

He nodded.

“You hardly touched your food and I know you skipped lunch. Did you have anything for breakfast?"

“I'm the one who is old and supposed to be losing my memory. You fixed country ham biscuits for us as soon as we got here at five this morning."

“Oh, yeah,” she replied sheepishly. “George, I'm worried about you. You're exhausted."

“That I am,” he agreed.

“Please go on home. It's after nine. I'll check things out and be right behind you."

“Not much to check out,” he said. “The night crew's here and we didn't have but three parties check into the motel. I think I will call it a day, and you shouldn't hang around here much longer either."

Maggie watched him drive away and held her breath when he pulled out in front of an oncoming car. She spoke to the two deputies drinking coffee at the counter and obtained their promise to check frequently on the restaurant during the night. She offered to help the kitchen crew with the backlog of dirty dishes, but they shooed her away.

She slipped on a jacket and walked to the motel office. The night clerk on duty was a student at the University of North Carolina at Charlotte. He was doing homework, but it didn't matter. There was nothing else for him to do.

She relaxed a moment behind the wheel of her Blazer before putting the key in the ignition. She sighed as she visualized her body sinking into the warm, churning water of George's Whirl Pool.

“You have to be as tired as I am,” Eddie said as he entered the house.

Greta was too exhausted to reply. She simply nodded.

“You can shower if you like, but I'm going straight to bed. Thank goodness, there are no free meals tomorrow. I couldn't stand another fifteen hour shift."

“I feel filthy,” she said as she peeled off her uniform. “I need a shower.” She waited for him to demand sex and was delighted when he ignored her naked body and climbed between the sheets.

“Just don't wake me when you come to bed."

“Like you woke me up this morning at three a.m.?"

He smiled, but did not respond.

She let water, as hot as she could stand it, splash on her chest and then turned her back to the powerful spray. She began to soap her shoulders and arms, feeling her muscles relax. She used a washcloth only on her face and genitals. Gold, she thought. Somewhere around here Ida Jenkins says there's an old gold mine.