Murder and Mayhem

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Murder and Mayhem Page 22

by Hamilton, B L


  Rosie nodded. “So what happened?”

  My fingers hovered above the key. “One of them yelled out something and they started heading across the road doing that funny skip, jump, shuffle the way homeboys do, with the guys carrying the bats leading the pack.”

  “You must have been really scared?”

  “Let me put it this way, Hon. I sure as hell wasn’t going to wait round to find out what they wanted. I yanked the nozzle out of the tank and took off so fast I forgot to screw the cap back on. God knows how much gas I lost in that Fangio moment,” Ross said recalling the moment.

  “Oh, My, God, that must have been so scary!”

  Ross nodded, gravely. “Yes, it was.”

  “Yeah, it was… real scary… Until I looked out the back window and saw them go into the park, behind the gas station, where a baseball game was about to start.” I reminded him… and Rosie burst out laughing.

  “You never can tell with these things. It might have turned out nasty,” Ross said trying to regain some form of credibility.

  “Well, the main thing is that you and Bee got out of there safely,” she said.

  “Well, almost...”

  Rosie looked at me. She was obviously confused. “What do you mean? I thought you got away safely.”

  “Well, yes, we did. But, later that day we were checking into a motel on the other side of town…” Ross started.

  “In what appeared to be a nice respectable neighborhood,” I interjected.

  Ross nodded. “It seemed that way but as we all know, looks can be deceiving. I was unloading the car when this black Ford pick-up pulls in beside us. The driver climbed out and came over to me, and said, ‘You don’t want to hang around here any longer than you need to, buddy. I just went to the hardware store down the block and was only gone a minute or two when some low life motherfucker–’ Oops, sorry, ladies.”

  I waved him on with a flick of the hand.

  “‘…broke into my pick-up and ripped out my radio and CD player, stole all my discs along with everything from the glove compartment. They even took the lucky dice I’d picked up in Las Vegas. Man, what a shit-hole this place is!’

  “Thanks for the warning,” I told him, but I was too pooped to find another motel so I grabbed all our stuff out of the trunk and took it inside. Then I bolted the door and put a chair under the handle, closed the drapes and unpacked the biggest Harley part I could find and put it on the floor next to the bed. I wasn’t taking any chances, no siree, Bob. If someone broke into our room he sure as hell wasn’t going to leave in one piece. I didn’t care about the car, it was only a rental, but that night I slept with one eye open and one hand on the weapon, and the next morning we were up and on the road before daylight and didn’t stop until we crossed the border into New Mexico.”

  “Wow Ross! You protected my sister like one of those dashing heroes in a Mills and Boon romance novel!” said Rosie.

  “He’s my knight in shining armor,” I said knowing full well my husband would lay down his life for me.

  “I wasn’t really scared, Hon,” Ross boasted. “I was just concerned for Bee’s safety.”

  “Of course you were, Ross. So, when do you two plan on going back to El Paso?”

  “I think we’ll just get back to the story of nice genteel folks.”

  “You go right ahead, Bee while I make you girls tea. I baked a fresh batch of cookies this morning.”

  *****

  “Ready for some pie?” the waitress asked as she cleared the table and gave it a cursory wipe.

  “You bet,” Danny said.

  “Apple, cherry, peach, pumpkin, pecan, key lime ...”

  “Cherry sounds good.”

  “A la mode?”

  Danny nodded. “With cream on the side.”

  Fiona looked over at Nicola. “What about you, Hon? You want some pie?”

  “No. I’m fine, thanks.”

  “Got a real nice Chantilly chocolate that melts in your mouth. Folks round here come in special for it.”

  Nicola shook her head. “Just coffee, thanks.”

  “Coffee for me too,” Danny added.

  “Comin’ right up folk!”

  The small bell above the door tinkled. The waitress looked up and smiled as a young couple walked in and looked around.

  “Sit anywhere folks. I’ll be with you shortly.”

  * * *

  Nicola turned on the radio and caught the tail end of a news report.

  “….A tornado raging across the mid-western states has left a trail of destruction estimated to be in the millions…” She made a stab at the button and the radio fell silent.

  “How awful, those poor people.”

  A pale shaft of light filtered through the trees and hit Danny’s eye. He flipped the visor down and nodded. “It must be frightening being caught up in something like that,” he said.

  “Have you been to the mid-west?”

  “I went through the Dakotas a couple of years ago to the town of Medora in the Theodore Roosevelt National Park, where bison and wild horses roam the vast plains–and prairie dogs rule. We drove through the Black Hills to Sturgis, and Mount Rushmore and the Crazy Horse Monument just outside the town of Custer. Have you ever seen it?”

  “Only on the Discovery Channel.”

  “It’s worth seeing.”

  “It looked magnificent on television but I should imagine seeing it up close would really be something.”

  “It was. Then we traveled south through The Badlands National Park to Wounded Knee in the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation.”

  “It sounds like you had a fabulous trip. It would be like going through the pages of a history book.”

  Danny nodded. “We did. All those names and places take you back to your childhood of cowboys and Indians.”

  “And reminds you of movies like Dances With Wolves.”

  *****

  Ross wandered into the room, wiping his hands on the small towel tucked into his waistband, a smudge of flour on one cheek like a streak of war-paint.

  “I thought I heard you mention the movie, Dances With Wolves. Did you tell Hon about the time we drove through South Dakota and came across a fort-like structure where they had all the props from the movie on display?”

  “No. I don’t think so. Did I, Hon?”

  “No. You never told me about that. I’d remember if you did because I think Kevin Costner is one gorgeous hunk.”

  I laughed. “I’d have to agree with you there.” I looked at Ross with his shiny bald head and truck-tire midriff and sighed as he dropped his Pillsbury body onto the end of the bed. I felt the mattress sag as the springs protested.

  “Do you want to tell her?” I asked.

  Ross shook his head. “Oh no, Bee you go right ahead.”

  “Okay. Let me see now. It was back in 98-99--” I began.

  “Sorry to interrupt, love, but I think it was 1999. We had just been to the Harley Davidson Museum in Sturgis, remember? And then I met up with my old mate, Walter in Rapid City, and got some Harley parts…”

  Rosie laughed. “As you do….”

  Ross flashed her a boyish grin and said, “As you do…” then continued the story. “I seem to recall we were heading east to Sioux City, to meet one of the lads who’d gotten hold of some parts I needed to finish the project I was working on at the time. You remember, Bee, it was the year I was building that old1938 black and white,” he prompted.

  I nodded. “Ross remembers where and when he’s bought every nut and bolt for every bike he’s ever worked on. But he can’t remember the really important stuff, like my birthday or our wedding anniversary.”

  “Oh, Bee, you know that’s not fair. I remembered your birthday last year, didn’t I?”

  “Only after a lot of prompting from Little Sweetie. You did however forget our wedding anniversary.”

  Rosie reached down and patted him on the leg. “Don’t worry, Ross, men never remember the important stuff,” she said.


  “So, it was1999,” I said in an effort to get the conversation back on track, “and we were driving across I-90 when suddenly this enormous structure loomed up out of the plains in the middle of nowhere, at the I-63 junction.”

  “It was about forty miles east of The Badlands National Park,” Ross added laying the demographic groundwork.

  I looked at him over the top of my glasses, gave him a measured look, and asked, “Do you want to take it from here?”

  “Heavens no–I’ll just sit quietly and listen.”

  “Fine. As I was saying, Hon, suddenly this enormous structure loomed up out of the plains surrounded by a high wooden fence that looked like an old fort from the eighteen hundreds.”

  “It was called 1880 Town,” Ross cut in.

  “1880 Town?”

  “The whole place had been set up like an old frontier town…” Ross noticed my withering look, and stopped. “Whoops, sorry Bee, I’ll be as quiet as a little mouse.” He pantomimed a zip across his mouth and threw away an imaginary key.

  “Originally the owner had acquired a town from a movie set and shipped it to the site. Then he traveled all over the countryside buying authentic buildings and furniture and anything else he could find relating to that era, shipped them to South Dakota and built this incredible town.”

  “And, when the movie, Dances With Wolves was completed, he bought everything, including Buck, the horse Kevin Costner rode in the movie.” Ross’s eyes were bright with amusement.

  “Wow. That’s incredible!” Rosie said.

  “They even had an authentic Wells Fargo Office with a stagecoach outside, a telegraph office, a bank, a couple of stores, a saloon, a doctor’s office, a dentist, a school house and a couple of churches. There was a railway station with a train from the same era, sitting on the tracks,” he added with boyish exuberance. “I think, from memory, there were around thirty building, including a two-story fourteen-sided barn where props from the movie, Dances With Wolves. Inside another building, saddles, saddlebags, cavalry helmets, arrowheads and old photographs were on display. And an old hotel that had original spur marks from cowboy boots on the wooden stairs.”

  “Wow. That sounds incredible!”

  “It was unbelievable what that guy had done.”

  We were silent for a moment then Ross glanced at his watch and stood up. He hitched his jeans over his ever expanding waistline, and said, “Would you girls like me to make you a nice cup of tea?”

  “That would be lovely, Ross,” I said.

  *****

  “Then we went to the town of Deadwood and visited Boot Hill,” Danny added.

  “I’ve never heard of Boot Hill. What is it?”

  “Boot Hill is the cemetery where famous outlaws and cowboys are buried. Wild Bill Hickok and Calamity Jane are buried there. Above Calamity Jane’s grave there’s a plaque inscribed with her dying wish: ‘Bury me beside Wild Bill’. It’s incredible to think these people actually existed and weren’t just celluloid heroes on silver screen, or someone you read about in book. They were once real flesh and blood people.

  “I remember it was a really cold day and there was an icy wind blowing through the town that chilled you right through to the bone. So we ducked into a casino and had an all day breakfast…”

  *****

  “Did you know you get the best breakfasts in casinos…, really cheap?” Ross said.

  “That’s because they want to get you through the door,” Rosie told him. “They know that if they can get you in with the ‘all you can eat’, cheap food, there’s every chance you’ll stay and play. Especially in cold weather when there’s not much to do.”

  “Pity most of the poor suckers haven’t worked that out,” Ross said, but when he added, “never made a cent off me…” I shot him a look that said, think again, buster.

  “No, I take that back. I lost twenty-five cents on a slot machine in Vegas one time trying to win a new whizz-bang tricked up Harley. Suckered me right in.”

  “Luckily I saw the writing on the wall and put pay to that,” I reminded him.

  “If everyone who stepped through their doors lost twenty-five cents, the casinos would be rich today,” Rosie mused, prophetically.

  “Hon, casinos are rich, today,” I said–and kept typing.

  *****

  “The Dakotas conjure up so many wonderful images of the old west. What incredible places they must have been back then,” said Nicola.

  “And still are to a certain extent. Many of these old towns have been preserved so that when you go there it’s like stepping into the past.”

  “Where did you go after you left Deadwood?”

  “Kansas. Now there’s a state with a particularly bloody history. The Dalton Gang, Frank and Jessie James, Ma Baker and her four violent sons terrorized the local population at one time or another–along with that grubby little hooligan, Pretty Boy Floyd.”

  “And, let’s not forget those blood thirsty killers, Dick Hickock and Perry Smith who murdered the Clutter family in ‘59,”Nicola added.

  “The worst one of all was that cold blooded internet serial killer, John Robinson who went on a murderous killing spree during the eighties and nineties storing the bodies of his victims in barrels on his properties in Kansas and across the border in Missouri till the long arm of the law finally caught up with him. Did you know he was the first recorded internet killer?”

  “No. I didn’t know that.”

  “And, sadly–he won’t be the last.”

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Rosie took one look at Daphne… and feared the worst. “Is everything all right, Susannah?”

  Susannah looked up from the magazine she was reading, glared at her sister, and said, “Oh for crying out loud, Daphne, will you put a sock in it!”

  Daphne sniffed and blew her nose… loudly. “Sorry,” she slobbered, and blew her nose… wetly.

  Susannah shook her head and turned to my sister. “Take no notice of her, Hon. She’s just going through a bad patch at the moment.”

  Daphne hiccupped a sob and gave her sister a pathetic hang-dog look.

  “Oh, for heaven sake, Daphne–just give it a rest!”

  Daphne wailed, and took off down the room.

  “What’s the matter with her?” I asked as the restroom door shut behind her with a resounding bang.

  Susannah closed the pages of Cosmopolitan magazine she’d been reading, and stared at the anorexic blond on the front cover while she picked at a tooth with the talon-like nail on her right index finger. She inspected the newly applied acrylic for any tell-tale signs of damage, or left-over lunch, and then said, “Husband number four just threw her over for an older woman.” She shrugged, and moved on to the next tooth.

  I was shocked–rendered speechless–well almost, but not quite. “Imagine that!” I said as a muffled sob drifted up from the restroom. “But I thought she was going to dump him anyway?”

  “She was. But he got the jump on her. This is the first time the boots been on the other foot and Daphne does not like it one bit.” Susannah, inspecting a nail, added, “A young chick is one thing, but an older broad–man, that really smarts.” Suddenly there was a loud wail and the thud of a door being kicked. Several people looked our way–while others pretended not to notice.

  “Oh! Poor Daphne!” Rosie handed me her bag and hurried down the room.

  I slid across to the empty chair next to Susannah, and asked, sotto voce, “So what is she going to do now?”

  “She’s going to get him back, of course!” she said as though it were a foregone conclusion.

  “But, I thought she didn’t want him.”

  “She doesn’t–but that’s not the point. Her pride has been hurt, not to mention her reputation and self-esteem. It’s all a matter of who does what to whom.”

  I nodded even though I didn’t understand the rationale behind this saga of illicit sex and intrigue, and asked, “And how she going to do that?”

  Apparently the answer
was quite obvious–to everyone but me.

  “The same way any red-blooded American woman would. She’s going to spend a day at the beauty parlor, buy some new clothes and then she’s going to be seen at all her husband’s old haunts flirting outrageously with every red-blooded male in the place–on the arm of a new man.”

  Sounds like a big ask to me, but hey, I’m just an Aussie who’s been married to the same man for more than forty years, so what would I know. “But what about her boyfriend, what’s he going to say about that?”

  She gave me one of those withering looks and said, “Hell! He’s not going to know.”

  “How could he not know?”

  The woman shook her head at my naivety and heaved a long drawn-out sigh. “Because they travel in different circles!”

  I’m not sure if it’s the accent or the language I’m having trouble with, so I just smiled and said, “Can you just explain this to me one more time?”

  Susannah took a deep breath and let it out with a long exaggerated sigh. “Beats me how you Aussie gals hold onto your men!”

  “Maybe it’s our sunny disposition–and good looks.”

  She looked me up and down, and said, “Yeah, right,” with just a hint of sarcasm. Then she looked down the room to where Rosie was standing outside the door doing her best to calm Daphne down.

  Susannah shook her head. “Waste of time,” she muttered then turned to me and said, “okay. Listen up. Here’s how it goes.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  An eyebrow shot up–then hiked its way back down again.

  “When Daphne has stopped all this wailing and carrying on, she’s going to pull herself together, get a complete make-over, and find a new boyfriend.” Susannah looked at me to make sure I was paying attention. “Are you still with me, Bee?”

  I nodded. “So far.”

  “Good. Now this here’s the tricky part… Once Daphne’s got everything in place, she’s going to flaunt her new lover in front of her husband to make him jealous. I would have thought that was obvious.”

 

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