Sintown Chronicles II: Through Bedroom Windows (24 page)

“What motive would Crow have?"

“I don't know, Tim. My wife has a theory, but no evidence to back it up."

“If you don't mind,” Tim said, “I'd like to hear it."

“We have reason to believe that Eddie Crow is an alias for John Baxter."

“The former preacher in Dot?"

“Yep. The evidence is more than circumstantial, but we need Crow's fingerprints to match against Baxter's to be sure."

“So Leora thinks that while Baxter was in Dot he had a run-in with Bobby and maybe Adele and came back here as Crow to get revenge?"

“That's her theory."

“With the Elliotts dead, I don't suppose we'll ever know for sure."

Borders caught a definite change in the pitch of Tim Dollar's voice. “Maybe, maybe not,” he said. “Leora has another theory."

“And that is?"

“She thinks Sandra knows the full story."

“Sandy?"

“Yeah. Leora has no proof, but while doing research on the church history she uncovered some things that indicate Sandy and Baxter may have had some kind of confrontation shortly before Baxter disappeared from Dot."

“Has Leora asked Sandy about this?"

“Yep. Sandy kicked her out of the house,” Borders said with a dry laugh.

“Eddie, I was getting worried about you. Where've you been?"

Eddie slumped heavily onto the sofa. “Get me a beer,” he demanded, “and put some damn clothes on. I'm not in the mood for your floppy tits and fat ass tonight."

Greta stared in disbelief.

“Move it, bitch, or I'll beat the shit out of you. I
am
in the mood for that."

Greta knew he must have stopped at the Super Save for a few beers. His speech was already slurred. He could be terribly cruel when drunk, but she had no choice. She hurried to the bedroom, threw on a robe, grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and rushed back to his side. “What happened, honey?"

“Sewana happened, that's what. She got me fired."

“Eddie, I'm sorry."

“Claimed I was sexually harassing her on the job. Hell, she was the one who harassed me."

Yeah, sure, she thought.

“I got another job at the snack bar at the golf course clubhouse. Mr. Bennett put in a good word for me, but that's why I am so late. Damn golfers don't quit playing until it's dark. I have to work weekends, of course, and stay until eight o'clock, but they're matching my salary at the Korner Kafe and I don't have to go in until ten."

“That's my Eddie. You always land on your feet."

“When I passed by your friend's house tonight, Sewana's car was parked next to Maggie's Blazer. You know what's going on?"

“Maggie told me she rented Sewana a room. Sewana needed a place to stay after she left here and Maggie needed help with the rent."

“I'm going to kill that Nigger, and if Maggie gets in the way I'll kill her too.” He tossed the empty bottle on the floor, went to the kitchen for another beer and again slumped in the chair.

“Eddie, there's been enough killing. You got away with two murders. Don't stretch your luck."

Eddie sat up with a jerk. “You telling me what to do?"

“No, Eddie. I just don't want nothin’ to happen to you."

He jumped to his feet. “Turn around, bitch. Spread your legs and bend over."

When he flipped her robe over her back, Greta said, “That's my baby. Boy, I need it. You gonna do my asshole tonight?"

“No, bitch,” he said as he rubbed the mouth of the beer bottle between her labia. “It isn't big enough for what I have in mind."

He rammed the bottle deep inside and clamped his hand over her mouth as she began to scream. He forced her to stand erect, dragged her to the basement and behind the furnace into his torture chamber. “I'll teach you to tell me what to do,” he screamed into her ear. “I set this up for Sandy Dollar. I'm going to use it on that Nigger, too, but I'm going to try it out on you first."

After stripping away her robe, he clamped leather cuffs around her wrists. Through the rings in the cuffs he inserted the hook from the chain suspended from the ceiling and tightened the chain until the balls of her feet barely touched the floor. He squeezed a tennis ball nearly in half and forced it into her mouth. When it expanded, it painfully pried her jaws open while effectively gagging her. He leered at Greta's naked form as he removed the wide leather belt from his pants.

After turning her buttocks into a crosshatch of red slashes and her breasts into swollen, ugly purple lumps, he lifted her effortlessly and dropped her on the horse, her legs dangling to either side. She screamed through the gag, as the bottle dug deeper inside her. He again tightened the chain until there was no possibility of her falling from the horse and he attached weights to her ankles as Sewana suggested.

“Good night, sweetheart. Pleasant dreams.” He placed his hands on her hips and shoved downward. He smiled as she slumped unconscious but still suspended on the horse, walked up the stairs and turned off the light.

His eyes popped open at three o'clock in the morning. God, what have I done, he thought. He rushed to the basement, released the unconscious woman, removed the bloody beer bottle, carried her to the bathroom and gently placed her onto the floor until the tub filled with warm water.

He eased her into the water and watched her face contort with pain. “Baby,” he said, “Baby, wake up."

She opened her eyes and stared blankly until she remembered.

“Greta, honey, I'm so sorry. I just plain went crazy. It's that Nigger's fault. Baby, I promise this will never happen again.” He kissed her cheek. “Once I get even with that black slut everything will be okay. You'll help me get even, won't you babe?"

She nodded as she looked in horror at the gaping opening between her legs.

Eddie was gulping down his first cup of coffee when Maggie blew her horn for Greta. He strolled to the Blazer wearing only his boxer shorts and grinned through the driver side window. “Morning, Maggie,” he said. “I'm afraid Greta is a little under the weather this morning. Please tell the Dollars she may be out of work two or three days."

Maggie rolled down the window. “What's wrong?” she asked.

“I don't know. She must have picked up a bug somewhere. She'll be okay."

Maggie tried to open the door, but Eddie held it fast. “I want to check on her myself,” Maggie said.

“No need. She'll be okay. You just give the Dollars my message."

“What have you done to her, you bastard?"

“I haven't done anything, Maggie. Now get out of here."

“If you don't let me see her, I'll go to town, find a deputy and come back."

“Feisty little thing, aren't you? Okay, Mr. Bennett fired me yesterday. Like Greta said, I landed on my feet with a new job at the golf course snack bar, but I was still angry about it when I got home. Greta gave me the third degree and got on my case. I had one too many and, well, yeah, I banged her around a little."

“Get away from my car."

“She's okay, Maggie, and she's forgiven me. I promised her I will never do it again and I won't. She just needs a couple of days to heal."

“Are you going to let me out of the car or do I go looking for a deputy?"

“Shit,” he said as he backed away.

Maggie stormed into the house and was surprised to find Greta wearing pajamas and asleep in the bed. “Did you drug her?” Maggie whispered.

“Just Alka-Seltzer Plus,” he answered.

Maggie unbuttoned the top of Greta's pajamas and gasped when she saw the blackened, swollen flesh of her friend.

“You shouldn't have done that,” Eddie said. “Look what happened."

With anger flashing in her eyes, Maggie whirled around. Eddie's shorts were around his ankles and he was slowly stroking his erection.

Maggie's eyes locked on his long, thick penis. In spite of herself she felt her vagina begin to lubricate. “For the life of me, Eddie, I don't know why Greta puts up with you."

“Sure you do, honey. You want it as bad as she does."

“You wish.” She knew she should be moving towards the door but her legs did not seem to want to obey the commands of her brain. He reminded her of an ape. Hair covered his chest from neck to pubic area. His arms and legs were as hairy as his chest. She wondered if his back was hairy also.

He made no move to close the distance between them but continued to stroke his penis. “I've wanted you from the first day I saw you,” he said. “I think you want me too. Greta likes to share me with her friends. If you don't believe me, wake her and ask."

“You're a damn fool."

“Sometimes, but I'm a stud in bed."

Finally her feet moved towards the door, but when she passed him, he gently touched her shoulder. She froze.

“I'm not going to force you, Maggie. I want you badly, but I want you to participate. I want you to enjoy it too. You have two choices. Which one are you going to make?"

“I don't know why, but I want you too,” she said with her chin quivering, “but it's not going to happen."

He made no attempt to prevent her from leaving, but he called after her. “You can always change your mind."

“Sorry to interrupt,” Maggie said as she entered the Dollars’ kitchen.

“No problem,” Tim called from the breakfast room. “We were just finishing our daily ration of bacon and eggs."

“Would you like breakfast?” Sandra asked. “It won't take but a minute to fix you something."

“Thanks, but I've eaten,” Maggie replied. “You may not know that I have been giving Greta a ride to and from work every day. When I went to pick her up this morning, Eddie said she was sick and would be out two or three days."

“What's her problem?” Tim asked.

“Just a bug,” Maggie replied. “I went in and checked on her. I think she'll be okay."

“Well,” Sandra said. “There go my plans for the day."

“It's beginning to rain, Sandy,” Maggie said. “I can't do much outside today. If you like, I'll look after Junior for you."

Sandra smiled broadly. “I would like that, Maggie. Please wake him and get his breakfast."

“Sure."

When Maggie left, Sandra began to gather up the dirty dishes. “Now what was the urgent matter you wanted to talk with me about, Tim?"

“I'll help you with the dishes and then we'll talk in my study where we will have a bit of privacy. I don't want Maggie to overhear us."

When the joint task was completed, Tim put his arm around Sandra and walked her to the end of the hallway.

“You're certainly in a loving mood this morning, Tim,” she said as she closed the study door behind them.

“We're a couple of nuts, you know,” he said as he sat on the sofa.

Sandra sat beside him. “Yes. Always have been and always will be."

“Dudette, this thing with Greta is bad news for both of us. We shouldn't have gotten into it in the first place and we sure as hell shouldn't have stayed in it when we had a chance to get out."

“You didn't like seeing her head between my legs yesterday, did you?"

“No I didn't. Not a little bit."

“Well, I'll confess I didn't enjoy seeing you screw her either. What do you suggest we do?"

“I don't know, but the situation is worse than you know. I employed Borders to check out Greta's story about killing a man in Fayetteville. Late yesterday afternoon Borders gave me his report. Dudette, there was no murder in Fayetteville, but she may have helped to murder Bobby and Adele."

“What the hell are you talking about, Tim?"

Tim relayed Borders’ complete report to his stunned wife.

“Dudette, he concluded. Borders and Leora think you hold the key to the solution of this case. They know that you had some sort of confrontation with Preacher Baxter and so do I. I don't know the details. I never asked. However, I do know that Baxter disappeared the day after you did. When Bobby told me where you were in Charlotte, he also told me to let you know Baxter had left town. Your leaving and Baxter's leaving are somehow related. If Crow is Baxter, he has taken his revenge on Bobby. I have no idea why he killed Adele, but I do know that if you were involved, you will be next on Crow's revenge list."

Sandra stood up and walked quickly to Tim's desk. “You still keep cigarettes in the top right hand drawer?"

Tim nodded. “Is this a smoking day?"

“Big time,” she said as she lit a cigarette. She returned to the sofa and placed the cigarette pack, lighter and an ashtray on the coffee table. “Get comfortable, Tim. This is a long story."

He reached for the pack of cigarettes.

“Dude, back when I was travelling with the Van Fans, we robbed a convenience store in Raleigh. John Baxter was going to school at Southeastern Seminary and working nights as a clerk at the store. He resisted and the guys worked him over brutally—stomped his balls and stuff. They were stoned and I was drunk. I had downed so much beer my bladder was about to explode. I wasn't wearing any panties and the guys had Baxter almost unconscious on his back. I straddled him and emptied my bladder on his face."

Tim coughed violently as he exhaled a stream of gray smoke. “Good old cigarettes,” he mumbled.

“When we came to Dot, I did not recognize Baxter, but he recognized me. One day I went to the church just to look at it. He dragged me into his study and blackmailed me into giving him a blowjob. He demanded regular visits for his sexual pleasure and for money. Dude, I didn't know what to do. We had not yet admitted that we love each other. That night you were pissed off with me about something and suggested that I take the red Cavalier, the women's clothes we found in your uncle's house and some money and get out."

“I didn't mean it Dudette."

“I know that now, but I didn't know it then. The next morning I sat beside the pond and tried to figure out what to do. I think Bobby saw me crying. At any rate, he joined me and I wound up telling him about Baxter and myself. He said he would kill the preacher, but I begged him not to."

Tim removed from Sandra's fingers the cigarette that was about to burn her and stubbed it out. He took one more drag and snuffed his out too.

“I decided the best thing to do was to get out of your life,” Sandra continued. “I packed up and drove away, but as I approached Charlotte I realized I didn't have anywhere to go. I needed time to figure things out and I wound up checking into the little motel where you eventually found me. On Saturday morning Bobby saw me there."