by J. R. WRIGHT
“You do know those contain morphine?” Marti said, fixated on Gloria’s battered face. “How many did you take?”
“I don’t know. Three or four, I guess.”
“Will you promise me you won’t take any more of those today? You’ve already surpassed the prescribed limit for one day,” Martina said concernedly. “How’d you get those anyway? They’re only supposed to be given out in a supervised atmosphere, such as a hospital. And then only if monitored around the clock by nurses.”
“So you’re a nurse, Martina. Monitor me.” She laughed giddily.
A half hour later, Gloria went down for a nap, and Martina took the opportunity to go over the stuff from Gwyn Raizel. Of the thirty or so photos, it was clear Gwyn needed some training in how to focus her camera. They all included Raym except one, and that was a picture of a house, perhaps Raym’s. Otherwise she doubted it would be here, since this was all about him. Surprisingly, there was even one photo that included Gloria, maybe from when they were still married. However, she didn’t look much different than she does now, as best Marti could see her.
There was a bunch of newspaper clippings from both the St. Louis Post Dispatch and the East St. Louis Times, concerning the murder of Susannah Raizel Koffee. The articles were a month over five years old. Marti sorted them by newspaper and then arranged them by date. She started with the earliest Post Dispatch article. Then, when finished with that, she read the Times article of the same date. In the entirety of both articles, Raymond Koffee’s name had not been mentioned once.
Thinking that odd, Marti went to the follow up stories printed the very next day. In those, there was a mention of Raym as being the ex-husband of the murdered woman, but nothing more. The only mention of a police investigation was in articles from the East St. Louis Times, and they were sketchy. Then, after three days of this, no more was said on the part the East St. Louis police department. In fact, after that day no more was said period; that was the end of the clippings. Had Gwyn just stopped clipping them, or had the newspapers dropped the story? Somehow, with Gwyn’s obvious determination, Marti believed the latter was true. Perhaps the story was dropped because the investigation itself had stopped. Maybe there was not enough evidence to warrant continuing it. Or was there another reason? After all, there was a prominent family associated with the case. Perhaps fearing further embarrassment, the Koffees had applied some pressure in all the right places, causing the wheels of justice to grind to a halt, Marti mused.
Once Martina had gathered all of Gwyn’s material back into the envelope and put it away, she focused her attention on the gun. She’d purchased it at a pawn shop next door to the café where she’d ordered the burgers to go. It was a small 32 caliber semi-automatic pistol, just the right size to carry almost anywhere and not be readily noticed. She took it from her purse now and loaded the nine shot clip with bullets from a box of fifty that came with the gun. When finished, she re-inserted the clip into the butt of the small pistol and smacked it with the palm of her hand, causing it to click into place.
Now that that was out of the way and the pistol back in her purse, Marti’s thoughts shifted to Parker McLean. Last night she had agreed to meet him at Hannity’s at six and from there he would take her to dinner. “Someplace nice,” he had said. The question now was, how nice? What should she wear? Would slacks and a sweater do or should she plan to wear a dress? The more she thought about it, the less at ease she became. If it was a late night Parker had planned, no way could she be away from here that long. Dwelling on the horrors that could happen in her absence, Marti came to the conclusion; it may be best if she just canceled. She wouldn’t be able to relax anyway. And no way was she even going to consider sex on a first date, although the thought of doing such a slutty thing did excite her momentarily.
She remembered having friends in high school that did those things, and they never resulted in any lasting relationships. Now the question arose, was Parker someone she may want in her life for an extended period of time? Perhaps, she concluded. He was nice. And he was ruggedly good looking, with a muscular body to die for.
On second thought, maybe she would meet Parker as planned, explain her dilemma, and play it by ear from there. Maybe he would agree to a quick dinner at a place nearby, just this once, so she could be home at a decent hour. Say before nine. Now, if she could get Gloria to promise to stay up and off the Plaxamin until she returned, she may relax enough to pull it off and still have a little fun. But was it worth the risk? If something should happen to Gloria in her absence, she would never forgive herself. And what of Raym Koffee? What if he should show up in her absence and somehow get at Gloria behind the locked door?
Perhaps her first thought was the right one. Maybe she should just stay home and put an end to all the suspense. With that thought on her mind, Marti went to check on Gloria. She found her still asleep on her bed and resting peacefully. A quick check of her pulse proved everything was presently normal in that department. The rest of her, however, was a sorry sight. The skin discoloration over some of the contusions visible on her near naked body seemed to be turning from milk chocolate to a dark plum, which meant the initial shock taken from the kicks and blows were much worse than originally ascertained. God damned… that bastard! Marti angered silently, and recovered Gloria with the sheet she had carefully lifted for the visual examination.
That sealed it! No way was she leaving her friend alone — for any amount of time — tonight. Parker McLean would just have to be put on hold for another time. With that thought in mind, she went to her purse where the bar napkin was with Parker’s number jotted on it, and then headed for the phone on the kitchen bar. However, before she could dial the number, Gloria’s voice came from behind her.
“Martina, were you just in my room?” She came around the corner pulling her robe over her shoulders and brushing hair from her face.
“I was,” Marti put down the receiver and turned fully toward her.
“I’m sorry. You were on the phone…”
“No, I was just about to call Parker. That’s okay. I’ll do it later.”
“Oh…! Parker! Don’t you think you ought to start getting yourself ready?” Gloria squinted at the clock on the wall in the kitchen. “It’s a quarter after four.”
“I’m not going, Gloria.” Marti folded her arms under her breasts, preparing herself for what she knew was coming.
“Why not?” Gloria glared.
“Because I don’t think it’s safe you being here alone.”
“Why not? I’m fine!” She tossed her arms up over her head, an action that allowed her robe to gape open leaving her naked before Martina, except for the black panties she wore.
“You’re not fine, Gloria! Your body has suffered a terrible trauma.” Marty doubled back and threw out her arms, gesturing to her, but kept her voice at a level tone. “At this point we don’t even know the full extent of your injuries. From what I can see, you may even have broken ribs. Just look at you. It’s like you were run over by a bus,” she fretted.
“I know!” Gloria looked down at her patchwork of bruises. “Aren’t I a mess?” She looked up again, grinning broadly.
“Oh, Gloria, what am I ever going to do with you?” Marti went to her with a gentle hug. “It makes me wonder what you ever did without me.”
“That is the way with it, isn’t it, Martina?” Gloria said humbly. “I guess you’ll just have to stick with me now.” She began to whimper.
“You’ll be fine,” Marti patted her back. “We’ll get through this together, okay?”
“Okay,” Gloria said meekly, then pushed away and swiped tears from her cheeks. “I can’t believe the mess I’ve made of my life… all the bad choices.”
“We all make mistakes, Gloria,” Marti consoled.
“Oh yeah! How many poor choices have you made?”
“I’m still a virgin, aren’t I?” Marti giggled, but it wasn’t funny to her. In fact, she was more than perplexed by it all. Morti
fied at the mere thought of giving the boot to her innocence… taking another into her body… the pain that may cause… the shame that may follow… And most of all, would she emerge from her maiden voyage the same person as before? If not, what effect would it have on her persona? These unknowns were all so frightening…
“Yeah, well, that’ll be rectified tonight, hopefully. Now go get yourself ready!”
“Don’t be silly!”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
At six sharp, Marti pushed through the Saturday night crowd at Hannity’s, her eyes searching ahead for Parker McLean on her way to the rear, where she expected to find him. And directly to her back was Gloria, with a firm grip on Martina’s hand, as she pulled her blindly along. They were both in shapely full length pastel evening dresses, with sleeves. They looked lovely and much alike with the exception that Gloria, by necessity, again wore her sunglasses, which rendered her near sightless in the dimly lit establishment.
Seeing them coming, Parker darted from the very last booth, decked out in his Sunday best three piece suit. It was charcoal in color, but to set it off, he wore a very loud red tie and a huge, almost beaming, smile. Seeing it prompted Martina to beam in return, as she hurriedly approached, a groping Gloria appearing to be dragged behind.
Surprisingly, Parker pulled her in and planted a kiss on her cheek before saying, “You are so beautiful. And Gloria…” He ended it there, but so she wasn’t made to feel like a third thumb, he took her hand up for a kiss as well.
Marti thought that was so admirable of him, and she gloried in the sight of how it appeared to make Gloria feel accepted in her time of depression. “Thank you, Parker,” she couldn’t help but say. “You look so nice!”
“Thank you,” Parker returned. “But don’t get the wrong idea. At heart I’m really a jeans and tee shirt kind of guy.”
“Me too,” Gloria tossed in, feeling accepted now, “but it is nice to put on the dog every once in a while, right?”
“It is,” they all agreed and happily slid into the booth, Martina to the inside of Parker and Gloria opposite the two of them, which was fine with her. This way she wouldn’t need to crane her aching neck, or twist her tortured body, to address either of them.
Once they were served drinks, Parker his usual Budweiser and Martina and Gloria each a glass of red wine, Parker made an announcement. “I have reservations for seven thirty at Chouteau’s, overlooking the river. I hope you both like French food?”
“I don’t know about Martina, but I love it,” Gloria offered.
“That’s a wonderful choice, Parker,” Marti offered, feeling good about the evening already.
“I especially love Chouteau’s,” Gloria added. “My husband and I went there oft…” She paused and studied the attentive faces across from her. “I’m sorry. I guess I shouldn’t be having this wine. Apparently I’m already goofy.”
This brought laughter from Parker but only sympathy from Marti, who reached out and took Gloria’s hand in hers. “It’s okay, honey,” she said, as tears appeared from beneath Gloria’s sunglasses. “It’s okay!”
Parker took note of this and said, “Did I miss something? I’m sorry if I…”
“No, Parker, you did nothing wrong,” Martina was quick to say. “It’s just that Gloria has had a difficult experience. She’ll be fine in a few days.” Actually, Marti wasn’t being truthful. Physically she may mend in weeks, but mentally the scars from the beating she took may be with her forever, she knew.
“My ex-husband beat me,” Gloria came out with it.
“Bad?” Parker focused on her.
With that, Gloria removed her sunglasses, revealing the liver colored bruising around both her eyes.
“My God!” Parker drew back and made a painful face. “Where’s the sonofabitch now? Did you have him arrested?”
“No,” Gloria said and replaced the glasses. “No cops!”
“Gloria is afraid he may….” Marti started.
“Look!” Parker cut her off, feeling the urge to be macho. “I need to know this asshole’s name. Where can I find him?”
“You know what,” Gloria said shaking her head, “I think I’d better go home. No way am I going to allow this to spoil the evening for the two of you. I couldn’t bear it.” She reached for her purse at her side and began to slide out of the booth.
“Wait, Gloria,” Marti said, holding up a hand. “Look, Parker, I think Gloria is right. Perhaps we can do this another time, okay?”
“No, you two go ahead. I shouldn’t have come in the first place.” Gloria got to her feet and headed for the door.
“Let me out, Parker!” Marti said franticly. “I can’t let her go out there alone.”
With that, Parker hastily got to his feet. “Come on, I’ll give you a lift.” He dropped a five dollar bill on the table, took Martina by the hand and wormed his way through the packed crowd toward the door. Where the sea had parted for the shapely Gloria, he found the going more tedious.
Once on the sidewalk out front, they spotted Gloria already a half block up and running as best she could in the tight gown and spike heels.
Briefly analyzing the situation, Martina said, as she slipped off her heels, “Just go, Parker. I’ll catch up with her.” With that, she hitched the pink dress up to her hips and took off on a dead run.
Spellbound at the sight, Parker couldn’t help but wonder what may have been, had Martina shown up alone and things gone smoothly… frightened now that he may not get another chance. Keeping an eye on Martina until she caught up with Gloria, he then turned back to Hannity’s and entered. What a gazelle, he mused. What a nymph!
Gloria cried most of the way home. Not for herself and her pitiful state, but because the evening had gone so terribly wrong for her dear friend. “It’s all my fault!” she insisted numerous times before reaching her building and sitting down on the front steps to rest her aching body.
“No, Gloria!” Marti sat down beside her. “Don’t blame yourself! It just wasn’t meant to be, that’s all. Besides, I saw something in Parker tonight I don’t think I like.”
“The suit?” Gloria focused on her and began to laugh.
“No.” Marti locked onto her eyes behind the sunglasses to check the seriousness behind her words. “What’s wrong with the suit?”
“Well,” Gloria turned away to see cars traveling past on the street, “he obviously bought it at Sears. If it weren’t for the red tie, I would have thought he was dressed for a funeral. Come on…a charcoal three piece… on a Saturday night date?”
Marti shrugged, not wanting to go there. Actually, she had thought Parker very handsome in the suit. “No, it was how he immediately pounced on the idea of going after your ex for what he did to you. I don’t know why men think they have to be that way? He doesn’t even know you, and as much as I’d like to think it’s just that he’s caring, I think it’s something else. Something that I don’t like.”
“I can tell you what it is in a word: testosterone.” Gloria giggled. “Gotta love it! That’s what puts the bull in the beast, Martina.” She laughed some more.
“Well, I still don’t like it!” Marti was firm in her observation.
“If you ever hope to get properly laid, you better hope the fellow has a bit of that in him or you may as well bang your little brother,” Gloria opined.
Martina naively pondered that for a moment then said, “I don’t have a little brother.” That brought spontaneous laughter from the both of them.
At that moment, a shiny new, blue, 1955 Chevy half ton pickup truck, with white sidewall tires pulled up to the curb and from it stepped Parker McLean, shy of the suit jacket, vest, and tie.
“Parker!” Gloria elbowed Martina and shouted gleefully, as if he were a long absent boyfriend.
Parker came around the truck and rather meekly approached them. “Lenny at Hannity’s told me where you two live.”
“Yay, Lenny!” Gloria tossed a fist into the air. There was no doubt she was in a different
frame of mind now.
“I just came by to see if you both like barbeque. I know this little joint outside of town that serves up the best you’ll ever sink your teeth into.”
“I’m game,” Gloria said, knowing Martina would never go without her. Hopefully this would serve to save the day for her and Parker. She did so want her friend to have a man in her life. And, as far as Parker went, he was on the high side of the curve when it came to those she’d known of the opposite sex. Hell, he may even turn out to be good in bed, to boot. Wouldn’t that be an added bonus… for her friend?
“Can you wait until we change?” Marti asked, getting to her feet.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Parker stopped by his house on the way to change into jeans and western boots, as well. Martina and Gloria waited in the truck as he did so, and from what they could see through the windows, it was only him that roamed around inside.
“Does he live alone?” Gloria asked.
“So he said.”
“Never married?”
“Nope!” Marti turned to her. “Why all the questions?”
“Just making sure he’s right for you.”
“Don’t you think I should be the judge of that?”
“You know, Martina, no woman ever forgets her first.”
Marti’s mouth fell open, trying to make sense of that. “What are you trying to say, Gloria? That I can’t decide for myself? That I’ll be blind to his virtues and vices?”
“You may think you’re not, but believe me, you are! Virgins often let desire override better judgment. The new heifer in the pasture generally takes the first bull to come along.”
“So how do you know all of this stuff? Were you raised on a farm?” Marti asked.
“No, but like you, I was a heifer once,” Gloria laughed and Martina joined in.
“So, is he?”
“So, is he what?”
“Come on, Gloria! Is Parker the one… or not?”