Sintown Chronicles II: Through Bedroom Windows (56 page)

Buzz unhooked the top of the bikini and let if fall to the ground. “Is this what you came to see?” he laughed as he reached around and squeezed Deborah's breasts, forcing the nipples to pop out.

“It's too damn dark,” a voice complained. “I can't see nothing. Make her stand in front of the headlights."

“Make her show us her pussy,” a high pitched voice said.

“Not tonight, guys,” Buzz said. “The show's over."

Groans came from the van. “We'll come earlier tomorrow night,” the driver promised.

“No more performances, guys. The little lady doesn't like it. Besides, there are too many of you."

“Five minutes, man,” the driver begged. “We'll just feel her up like the last time."

“Open the side door,” Frank grinned. He forced Deborah to the open door. “Take turns guys,” he said as a dozen hands reached for her breasts.

He did not stop them when they dragged her struggling body into the van. The light was dim, but he could imagine what they were doing to her. “Times up, guys,” he said. “Throw the bitch out now, or there will be no next time."

He caught her as the youths obeyed, preventing her from landing painfully on the asphalt.

Deborah scooped up the bikini top, hurried to the Mercedes and stared in disbelief as the van left the parking lot.

“They could have raped me and there wouldn't have been a damn thing you could do to stop them,” she said when Buzz joined her.

“They could have, but didn't. They're good kids, Debbie, just looking for a little excitement."

“You promised my punishment would not involve sexual abuse."

“Maybe I lied."

“What do you think of the new Debbie Andrews?” Borders asked as he sat at the Korner Kafe counter, sipping coffee.

Sewana chuckled as she polished silverware. “Looks like she's trying to be a teenager."

“She's about twenty years too late for that,” Leora observed.

“I don't know what to make of it myself,” Maggie said, “but I surely do like Debbie better than Deborah."

There was a general murmur of agreement among those gathered at the cafe counter for mid-morning coffee.

“At first,” Susan Kimel said, “I thought it was a political thing. I know Sandra Dollar talked with her about knocking off some rough edges. We all felt her holier-than-thou attitude might defeat the incorporation effort, but now I'm not so sure—the way she dresses is off the wall."

“What's wrong with the way she dresses?” Borders asked with a wry grin on his face. “I like it."

“Men!” Leora said, playfully threatening to slap her husband. “They're all alike."

“Hey,” he said defensively, “if the woman wants me to see her boobs and bottom, the least I can to is be appreciative."

Sewana laughed as she began refilling cups. “The first night she came in here dressed like that, she wasn't wearing panties. The way she bent over every table, it looked like she wanted show off her ... her..."

“Private parts?” Susan offered.

“Aw, come on, Sewana. She was wearing those thong panties I've seen advertised in some of the ladies clothing catalogues Leora gets,” Borders said. “Her most private part was covered."

“You old goat,” Leora hissed. “Checked it out closely, did you?"

“Now, Leora. I'm a cop—or I was. I'm trained to notice small details."

“She was at church yesterday,” Susan said, “wearing her old clothes, but she sure as hell wasn't wearing a bra. How she kept her silk blouse so tightly pressed to her chest is beyond me. Even the preacher was staring."

“I still say it's a tremendous improvement,” Maggie insisted. “With her change in attitude I feel much better about voting for incorporation."

“Maybe it's a political image she's trying to create,” Leora said. She grinned at Borders. “She's certainly won over the male vote."

“I don't know,” Susan offered. “I think she may have slipped a cog. I talked with Mary Lou about it. She says there's nothing she can do unless Deborah ... Debbie seeks her medical advice. I'm not sure I should tell this, but ... no, you wouldn't believe me."

“Go on, girl,” Sewana urged.

“Well, I didn't get by Buzz Adam's yard sale Saturday. I heard there were some nice things at good prices. I also heard that a very scantily clad Debbie Andrews was helping with the sale. I decided to run by yesterday after lunch. He didn't have much left but an old chiffonier. So help me, he sold that thing for five thousand dollars to an antique dealer while I was standing there."

“Glad I don't collect antiques,” Leora said.

“Nice story, Susan, but what's that got to do with anything?” Borders asked.

“I was getting to it, Mr. Detective. Debbie was on a ladder scraping paint off Buzz's garage. The sweat was just pouring off her body. You know how hot it was yesterday."

“Humidity was way up there too,” Leora added.

“What was she wearing?” Borders asked.

“Men!” Leora said with mock disgust.

“She wore cutoff jeans that were way too tight and the skimpiest halter top I've ever seen. I don't know how she kept those things from bouncing out."

“Why in the world would she be doing all this work for Buzz?” Sewana asked.

Susan shook her head. “I know it was none of my business, but curiosity was killing me. After I looked at the few things Buzz still had for sale in his basement, I walked over to the garage. Debbie was pleasant enough, but she didn't even slow down. There were paint peelings all over her."

“And?” Leora urged her to continue.

“I just flat out asked her why she was doing so much hard work for Buzz Adams.” Susan sipped her coffee, relishing the moment.

“Damn it, woman,” Sewana said, “if you don't get to the punch line I'm going to pour that coffee all over you."

Susan laughed and lowered her voice just a little. “So help me God, she told me she and Buzz are lovers and she's doing what she can to help him get back on his feet after his parents sold the Dot Grocery out from under him."

“She said that?” Borders exclaimed.

Susan nodded.

Leora's eyes twinkled. “She told me the same thing Saturday."

Sewana touched Maggie's hand. “I'm sorry, honey."

Maggie jerked her hand away. “Hell, I just went out with him a couple of times. It was nothing serious. He's not my type. The hussy can have the jerk with my blessings."

“Y'all oughtn't talk about Miss Debbie that-a-way,” a frail voice commented.

All eyes jerked to the right to look at the old woman who slipped in unnoticed.

“Hello, Mrs. Morgan. I didn't see you come in,” Maggie said. “What may I get for you?"

Vera Morgan ignored Maggie's question. “I seen Miss Debbie early this mornin'. She brung me a big box of clothes Mr. Buzz didn't sell at his yard sale. She give me a bunch of money, too. Said she hadn't been payin’ me enough fer cleaning her house. She's a nice lady. If they like each other it ain't none of your business."

Embarrassed, Susan said, “You're right, of course, Mrs. Morgan."

“Miss Maggie, I come to see you if you have a minute."

“Certainly, Mrs. Morgan. As you observed, we were just gossiping. Please have a cup of coffee with us."

“This is your lucky day, Widow Morgan,” Borders said jovially. “I'm buying."

“You better take him up on it while you can,” Leora joked. “The old goat usually pinches his pennies so tight you can hear them scream."

“Maybe just one cup,” Vera said as she hoisted her small frame onto a counter stool. “Ain't got nothin’ else to do today."

Sewana placed a steaming cup of coffee in front of the old lady.

“What did you want to see me about?” Maggie asked.

Vera looked at the long line of listeners straining to hear. “I reckon it don't matter none if they hear,” she said. “It's Mr. Bennett. Somebody ought to do somethin'."

Maggie thought her heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean, Mrs. Morgan?"

“Today's my day to clean his house. He told me to empty the trash, paid me fer a day's work and sent me home."

“This really is your lucky day,” Borders laughed.

“I'm surprised he was at home,” Maggie said. “I thought he was vacationing at Myrtle Beach."

“He ain't at no beach and somethin’ just ain't right. He ain't shaved in days and he weren't wearin’ nothing but his underwear. That just ain't like Mr. Bennett."

Maggie searched, but could not find her voice.

“Mrs. Morgan is right,” Susan said. “I suppose it's okay to tell it now. George sold his interest in the service stations to a party who wishes to remain anonymous. He refused to come to my office. He paid extra for me to go to his home for the signing of the letter of intent. He was in bad need of a shave then, but at least he was wearing a bathrobe."

“Miss Maggie,” Vera said, “I think you should ought-a go check on him. There ain't a damn thing in the ice box fer him to eat. He ain't even got no beer. I know you was in love with him once. I reckon you still are."

“Mrs. Morgan! I assure you that..."

“Don't bullshit an old lady. Maybe you wasn't fuckin’ him when you lived there, but I seen the way you two looked at one another."

Conversation at the counter of the Korner Kafe came to an abrupt end.

Maggie parked her Blazer in front of George Bennett's front door. She fingered her key ring, making sure the key to his house was still there. She wondered why she kept it—why he never asked her to return it. She opened the back of her vehicle and strained to remove a case of cold beer, which she lugged to the front porch. She returned to the Blazer, managed to loop the straps of three plastic bags of groceries in the fingers of her right hand and picked up the Styrofoam carton containing a fried chicken dinner with her left.

She lowered the groceries to the floor of the porch and rang the bell. There was no response. She rang again and knocked. She could hear sounds coming from the television. She rang a third time, tried the doorknob and was surprised to find it unlocked.

“George, it's Maggie,” she shouted. There was no response. She scooped up the grocery bags, deposited them and the Styrofoam carton on the kitchen table and made a second trip for the beer.

“George. I know you are here,” she called out. “Your car is in the garage."

She opened the refrigerator and began placing groceries in it.

“What are you doing here?"

The man standing in the kitchen doorway, wearing crumpled boxer shorts and a week's growth of gray beard, only resembled the George Bennett she knew.

“What has happened to you, George?” she asked.

He did not respond.

“Your penis is an exemplary specimen,” she said, trying to grin, “but I wish you would stuff it back into your shorts.

He looked down and complied with her request. “I'm sorry, Maggie. I wasn't expecting company."

“Well, like it or not, you have company and I'm not leaving until you have showered, shaved, combed your hair, put on decent clothes and eaten this chicken dinner I brought you."

He shook his head slowly. “I have no reason to bother with the routines of normal life,” he said sadly.

“No reason?” she asked. “Hell, I'll give you a damn reason.” She rushed to him, clasped his face in her hands and pushed her tongue deep inside his mouth.

“Ugh,” she said as she quickly pulled away. “While you're at it, brush your damn teeth."

He just looked at her.

“Now!” she demanded.

As if he were a puppet and she pulled his strings, he headed for the staircase.

Maggie finished putting away the groceries, roamed to the den and eyed the sofa where, she was certain, he first saw her naked. She fingered the shawl he placed over her that night after, exhausted, she fell asleep with her head on his shoulder. She picked up newspapers from the floor and stacked them on a table.

She moved to his study where they kissed for the first time. His desk was in shambles. She began putting away pens and pencils and stacking papers. Her eyes locked onto one document. So, she thought, Buzz's whore is Billy Frank's silent partner. I wonder where she got the money?

She heard the well pump shut off and visualized his lean body, dripping wet, stepping from the shower. She picked up a file folder from the floor. Damn, she thought as she glanced at the document the folder contained. I can't afford to buy your restaurant, George.

She returned to the kitchen and washed the few dirty dishes in the sink. When she heard him descending the steps she dried her hands, pulled a fork from a counter drawer and opened the Styrofoam carton.

“Much better,” she beamed.

He nodded. “I feel better, too. Maggie, I'm sorry you saw me like that."

“When was the last time you ate a decent meal? Don't answer that. Just get your scrawny butt over here and chow down.” She opened the refrigerator and twisted off the cap of a beer.

“I can't eat all this,” he said as he sat down. “Get a plate and share with me."

“You're going to eat every bite, George Bennett."

“Well, at least have a beer."

She smiled and again opened the refrigerator.

“Why did you come?"

“Vera Morgan told me you were in trouble. Don't be angry with her, George. She cares about you in her own, weird way."

He nodded and gnawed at a chicken leg.

“George,” Maggie said as she sat opposite him, “I can't afford to buy the restaurant. You know that."

“You've been snooping in my study?"

She nodded. “Sorry. I was killing time."

“It's okay. If you had read the entire proposal you would know you can afford it. I am offering it to you with no money down, six percent interest and monthly payments of three thousand. The restaurant makes four times that. You
can
afford it."

“I don't want your restaurant, George."

“I don't want it either, Maggie. I made a big mistake. The preacher meant well when he suggested I go back into business to get over the death of my wife, but I was a fool to follow his advice. Making money is not fun if there is no one with whom to share it. You walked out on me, Maggie. I don't blame you. I am far too old for you. Dottie walked out on me. I couldn't satisfy her in bed. I guess my dick is too small."