Sintown Chronicles II: Through Bedroom Windows (90 page)

“You weren't in church this morning, Leora,” Tim Dollar said as he joined her at the fence. “Did you visit Sam?"

Leora turned to him. “Yes,” she said as a smile crept across her face. “He was finishing breakfast when I arrived. It was the first solid food they allowed him and I swear he ate enough to stuff a horse. An orderly was feeding him and I took over. It felt so good to finally be able to do something for him."

“Sounds like he's continuing to improve."

“He can use his right hand a little bit now. His speech is still very hard to understand, and it frustrates him, but he was trying to talk a mile a minute. He's terribly worried about Shelly."

Borders joined his wife at the fence. “Did you tell him about Ascue?"

She nodded. “I think I understood him correctly. He's never heard of Ascue and doesn't remember Shelly ever mentioning him, but he does remember Shelly having a flirtation with some guy she met here at the pool."

“Damn, Leora. That could be the connection!” He caught Bud's attention and motioned for the two detectives to join the group at the fence. “Leora talked with Sam this morning. He remembers Shelly flirting with a guy they met here at the pool,” he explained. “Go on, Leora. What else did Sam say?"

“He didn't want to talk about it, but I pressed him. I asked if he thought Shelly was having a sexual relationship with the man. Sam started crying. He was so pathetic. Sam said she was having casual sex with the man but broke it off when he confronted her."

“Did Sam recognize the photo of Ascue as being Shelly's pool buddy?” Lacy asked.

“I didn't have it with me. I gave the photo to Borders and Bud yesterday."

“Shelly could have saved herself some grief by telling me about Ascue when I asked about other lovers,” Cranfield observed.

“Maybe, Shelly didn't consider her pool buddy a lover,” Lacy commented, “but perhaps Ascue did—a jilted lover."

“We've got our man,” Cranfield said.

Sandra joined the group. “Something's wrong. He should be here by now. I'm going to see what I can do."

As she started towards the exit gate, Tim dropped in step beside her. “This is serious business, Dudette. I'm going with you."

“No, Dude. I need to do this alone."

“At least put something on, Sandy. You're practically naked."

She grinned. “I've never heard you complain about my bikini before.” She kissed him on his cheek.

Sandra crossed the parking lot and, when she arrived at a point where the pavilion was visible, broke into a run. Ascue was climbing into the driver's seat of his van. She waved frantically and when she reached the van, ripped open the door. “Where the hell are you going?"

“I'm going to take this crap back to the house."

“You don't need to do that. You agreed to join us at the pool."

“The chicken and potato salad will spoil out here in the sun, Mrs. Dollar."

“What happened to Sandy?"

“That was a mistake."

“Ron, damn it, I know you enjoyed it."

“Yeah, but you're not the only fish in the sea. Something isn't right, Mrs. Dollar. I don't know what it is, but I want no part of it."

“What are you talking about, Ron?"

He glanced around the parking lot and then back at Sandra. “When I came to work for you and Tim, I tested the waters. You set me straight in a hurry—insisted on calling me Mr. Ascue and that I call you Mrs. Dollar. Hell, you wouldn't get within ten feet of me if you could help it. Then, all of a sudden, it became Ron and Sandy and you pulled me into your bed."

“Things change, Ron. I ... I've never slept with anyone like you. Don't screw it up, Ron. The best is yet to come.” She placed her hand between her legs suggestively. “Are you sure you want to give this up?"

“After months of presenting me to your friends purely as a servant, today you want me to join in one of your social functions."

“As I said, Ron. Things change."

“Not this damn fast. You see those two guys over there?"

“Looks like they're having car trouble."

“Yeah. Their heads have been stuck under the hood of that car since the picnic began. Check out the two on the other side of the pavilion."

“Just two lovers enjoying a Sunday afternoon."

“They've been propped against that car, in the blazing sun, since the picnic began also."

“I don't understand. Come on, Ron. Put on the bathing suit I bought you and join us at the pool. You promised."

“I tried the damn thing on last night. It's not much more than a jockey strap."

“I know,” she said and smiled sensuously.

“I'm going back to Double D Acres, put away the food, pack my clothes and move on. When I settle down someplace I'll send you my address so you can mail me my final check."

“Are you sure, Ron?” she asked, pushing up the cup from her left breast.

He looked, but did not smile. “They're delicious, Sandy, but they are a little small.” He turned the ignition key and the van roared to life. “See you around sometime."

“Ron, wait,” she pleaded, refusing to let him shut the van door. “Give me a minute to make excuses and I'll join you at the house. I want you between my legs one last time."

“Suit yourself,” he said as he shoved her backwards, closed the door and floored the accelerator.

“Here comes Sandy,” Borders said as he peered through the fence. “She's running and she's alone."

“Damn, isn't that Ascue's van leaving the lot?” Cranfield shouted. He tossed the towel hiding a cellular telephone to one side and punched in a programmed number as Lacy uncovered the portable radio.

“Detective Spencer, here,” she barked into the tiny microphone. “The suspect is leaving the parking lot. Tail him, but do not stop him. Repeat, do not stop the suspect."

“Ketcham,” Cranfield snapped, “the pigeon flew the coop. Grab a tape recorder and the photograph of Ronald Ascue from the Shelly Pond file. Hot-tail it to Charlotte Memorial and see if Sam Pond can identify the picture as the man his wife was having an affair with at the Dot swimming pool. Call me the instant you have an answer."

“What affair, Bud?"

“I'll explain later. Just do it.” He disconnected, grabbed the towel and hastened to catch up with the others, hurrying towards the dressing room.

Tim Dollar stopped him. He already had Lacy impatiently waiting. “Sandy says Ron is suspicious. He's headed back to the house. He told Sandy he's clearing out."

“Damn,” Bud grumbled.

“Sandy didn't take time to change. She's on her way and will try to detain him until you can get there."

“Shit,” Lacy said as she raised the radio to her lips. “Detective Spencer here. All cars—the suspect is headed for the Dollar residence. Park on the highway and surround the house on foot. Do not let the suspect see you—repeat—do not let the suspect see you."

“Tim,” Cranfield said. “If Ascue is the assailant, Sandy is in deep trouble. He's a dangerous man and there's not a damn thing we can do at this point but wait. A deputy is on the way to the hospital. If Sam Pond identifies Ascue's photograph as Shelly's pool lover, I'll risk my badge and arrest him. It would be best if Ascue does pack and drive away. We can tail him and pull him over without anyone getting hurt."

Tim looked from one detective to the other. “Sandy thought she was doing the right thing. May I ask a personal favor?"

“Hurry up, Tim. We need to get out there,” Lacy prompted.

“If you have to enter the house, please, just the two of you go in."

“What are you talking about?"

“I know how Sandy plans to delay Ron. She's going to try to get him in bed."

Lacy dressed hurriedly and rushed to the parking lot where Bud waited beside the open trunk. He handed her the holstered police special and her credentials and slammed the trunk.

As she strapped on the seat belt, Cranfield said, “There's no blind approach to the house. Tim says their bedroom is on the front right and Ascue's is at the left rear."

“First floor?"

Cranfield shook his head as the unmarked car pulled out of the lot. “Second. We'll have to go in the front door. Tim gave me a key."

“Borders tells me you think I'm a fine looking lady as well as an excellent police officer. Is that true?” Lacy asked.

“Where did that come from?"

“Whenever I'm in a tense situation, I try to think of something that will help me relax."

“Borders has a big mouth."

“Did you say it?"

“What if I did?"

“You don't object to my height and muscles?"

Cranfield refused to reply.

“Well?"

“I think you are a fine looking woman. Enough said."

“I don't mess around, Bud. No one night stands for this girl."

“I never said anything to Borders about a one night stand."

“He claims you want me to cook your breakfast every morning."

Cranfield knew his face was crimson. “Borders talks too much."

“How do you like your eggs, Bud?"

He kept his eyes on the road. “Over light."

“I think you are fine looking too, Bud Cranfield."

Cranfield parked on Highway 13 across from the entrance to Double D Acres. “There's tree cover halfway up the drive,” he commented, looking out his side window.

“And thirty feet of wide open space."

Bud grabbed the cell phone before it completed its first ring. “Cranfield."

Lacy watched his face as he listened intently.

“Good work. Now go see the judge.” He disconnected. “We have a positive ID."

“You think we still need a warrant?"

“It won't hurt."

“Bud, Ascue does not know we are detectives. Which will look more suspicious—us walking up the driveway or arriving in an unmarked car?"

He cranked the car and slowly drove up the drive. “Let me get the door for you,” he said as he parked behind Ascue's van.

She glared at him. “I'm not a helpless female."

“We need to look like a happy couple.” He walked around the back of his car, opened her door and held out his hand.

Lacy smiled as she emerged, accepting the offered assistance.

As they started up the walkway, he slipped his hand around her waist. “Just for appearance,” he whispered.

She continued to smile. “If we're supposed to be a happy couple, maybe we should pause for a kiss."

“Yeah,” he said. “That might help.” He stopped, looked at her and felt his face flushing. He leaned forward and pecked her offered lips.

“What the hell was that?” She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressed her body to his and forced his lips to hers with her hand, firmly tangled in his salt and pepper hair.

He clutched her hand and they continued towards the porch.

“You tickled my tonsils,” he mumbled.

“You complaining?"

“Hell, no."

They drew their weapons as they listened at the front door. Soundlessly, Cranfield inserted the key and turned the knob. They crept into the darkened entranceway. Lacy glanced up the ornate stairway as they both heard a male moan. She grinned at Cranfield and motioned with her head. They eased up the stairs and paused when they reached the hall.

“Oh, baby."

The detectives winked at each other, slipped down the hall towards Ascue's bedroom and stood outside the slightly ajar door.

“It's so big,” they heard Sandra say. “You like that Ronnie?"

Ron moaned again.

“How about this?"

“Oh, God, Sandy. I can't take any more. Do it, baby. Do it."

“How do you want it, Ronnie?” Sandra cooed.

“I don't care, baby. Help me out here. Use your mouth, your pussy or your hand. Just do it, baby."

The detectives burst through the door, their weapons pointed at the bed. Sandra, still wearing the bikini, leaped off the mattress as Ron, totally naked, cursed and struggled to free himself from the ropes that bound his wrists to the head of the bed.

“I don't think he'll try S&M again any time soon,” Sandra said seriously.

“Bitch!” Ascue screamed as he continued to struggle with the ropes.

“Nice looking tattoo you have on your thigh, Mr. Ascue,” Lacy said as she holstered her handgun.

“Ronald Ascue,” Bud said as he, too, holstered his weapon, “you're under arrest for armed robbery and attempted murder. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney, and to have an attorney present during any questioning. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be provided for you at government expense."

Bud picked up Ascue's shorts and began to work them up his legs as Lacy rummaged through a collection of debris on the dresser.

“I want a damned lawyer!” Ascue screamed. He glared at Sandra. “I'll get you for this, bitch.” He rolled his head towards Lacy as Bud snapped a cuff on his right wrist. “You have a search warrant?” he demanded.

“One's on the way, my friend,” Bud said sarcastically as Sandra loosened the rope from the top of the bed, “but, under the circumstances, we don't need it."

“You stupid ass,” Lacy hissed as she filtered through the contents of Ascue's billfold and held up a credit card receipt. “You were so damn careful, but you bought gas in Myrtle Beach on the night of the attack and charged it against your MasterCard. You even kept the receipt."

Bud looked at Ascue, now sitting up on the bed with his arms cuffed behind him. “We have enough to send you away for a long time. I just don't understand why you did it. What did you have against Sam Pond?"

“Not Sam, you stupid hayseed. The bitch cut me off.” He glared at Sandra. “No slittail does that to Ron Ascue and gets away with it."

Lacy punched in the numbers and propped her feet on Cranfield's desk. “Mrs. Gilder, this is Lacy Spencer. May I speak with Mark, please?"

She nodded at Bud, who pretended to straighten up a file cabinet.

“What's up, Spencer?"

“How's your day off, partner?"

“The Battleaxe had me up at dawn doing honey-dos. How'd the butler thing turn out?"

She snickered. “Damned if the butler didn't do it this time. We've got him cold."

“He's in the lock-up?"

“Yep."

“Do you have a confession?"