Sex, Love and Murder

by Sandy Semerad

  “What’s wrong, Baby?”

  I said nothing, struggling to control the wave of jealousy that toppled my desire.

  “Nothing,” I said coldly with empowering fury. “I’m tired, Jay. It’s late. I must get back to the Belle. I have a plane to catch tomorrow morning, remember?” I stared at the desolate street and summoned my strength.

  Suddenly Jay reached in his pocket and pulled out the folded bill and business card Trudy had given him. Frowning, he exhaled a deep sigh.

  I watched as he unfolded the money with one hand and threw it on the dashboard before crumpling the card.

  “Damn.” Jay hit the steering wheel with such force I thought it might break. “Let me explain something. I’m not for sale.”

  Our eyes locked but I sat mute, unmoved by his declaration.

  “Sure, I play and sing for a living. And I may accept tips as part of the job. There was a time I needed those tips to pay for food and shelter.” He waited for me to say something but I merely stared at him blankly. “You must realize I play music because I love it, not because of the money. Money never has been that important to me.”

  Jay’s sincerity softened me. I noticed how his eyes glowed with innocence. “You don’t owe me an explanation. I suppose I’m overly sensitive,” I whispered.

  Jay gathered me in his arms. “As for that woman in there, she’s a club person, probably seeking solace in alcohol and a song. I see hundreds like her, out on the town every night, drinking, living it up, looking for love or whatever else might be missing.”

  Listening to his words and feeling his body heat, my heart began to race again.

  “Guess you need to decide if you want to get involved with a musician who routinely deals with the night life. But I can tell you this, I haven’t been with a woman sexually in three years and I’ve had no interest until the night you walked into my life.”

  “Perhaps, you need to understand something about me.” I pulled away and stared out into the darkness again. I watched a young couple stroll down the street arm in arm.

  “Talk to me, Baby,” Jay urged.

  I turned toward him. “First of all, we met only four days ago as a result of your best friend’s accident. And that accident has become a nightmare for me.” I nervously rubbed Martha’s crystal. “And secondly, you don’t know me very well. I’m different.”

  “I’m different, too,” he smiled.

  “No, I mean, very different.”

  “In what way?”

  “For twenty years I was married to the only man I’ve ever slept with.” I looked at Jay timidly, not knowing how he would respond.

  “That’s different, Lilah, but not strange.” Jay covered my hand with his. “In fact, it’s beautiful.”

  I hoped what I had to say didn’t sound self-righteous. “Jay, my beliefs are not conducive to a free relationship.”

  “I’m listening,” he said quietly, still holding my hand.

  I took a deep breath. “I was only eighteen when Sam and I ran off to get married.”

  “How did your parents feel about it?”

  “My mother was furious. She harped about how I should’ve had a respectable engagement and a nice church wedding. But I think she was mainly disappointed because I didn’t finish college and have a career before I married.” I pictured my mother’s face. “Of course, she grew to love Sam as the father of her precious granddaughter, Angela. And she was also pleased when I returned to college and earned my degree.”

  Jay stroked my hand.

  “I didn’t mean to go back in time,” I said smiling. “What I really meant to say is,” I hesitated, weighing my words. “I wish I could be free of my past, free of my memories, free to let my heart rule as it did with Sam but,” I paused again, fighting back tears. “I’m not free, Jay, and I can’t forget I lost Sam. I can’t forget...”

  Jay put his fingers across my lips. “Sh-h-h, Lilah, don’t let yourself think about that.” He covered my mouth in a lustful, moaning kiss. When I blocked his groping hands, he tipped my chin up to meet his gaze. “Would you feel better if we were married?” He laughed, and I laughed with him, though I was astonished.

  “Surely you wouldn’t marry someone you’ve known for only a few days.”

  “The first night we talked, Lilah, I knew I wanted you. Or at least my heart knew and, as they say, the heart doesn’t lie. Besides, I’ve been alone too long and I’m not proud of that. If I hadn’t been such a judgmental asshole, I would have married Cindy.”

  “You loved her, didn’t you?” I stated what I believed to be a fact.

  “Yeah.”

  “Your mother said she died of a drug overdose.”

  “Oh, Lilah, I don’t know if I can go into that now. I’d rather put the past behind us.”

  “Her death must have been devastating,” I said, ignoring his request to avoid the subject.

  “Yeah, and I could have prevented it.”

  “How?” I wanted to touch him but hesitated, afraid to violate his silent memory.

  “She was with me at the time,” Jay finally said. “Although, up until that night, we’d been separated for three weeks. We’d broken up because I didn’t want to make a permanent commitment unless she’d stop her so-called recreational drug use and ditch her friends, many of whom smoked pot, snorted coke, and even shot up. I didn’t know how sick she was at that time.”

  “Then, why do you think you could have saved her?”

  “After we broke up, I went nuts. Wanted her back.” Jay ran his hands along the steering wheel, collecting his thoughts. “Cindy came to my place that Sunday night. I lived downtown then. She looked like a walking corpse. Told me she needed help. Said she’d decided to check into the hospital and get detoxed. I hadn’t seen her for a long time and I wanted her. For lack of a better word, I was horny. I guess she was too, in spite of her condition. So, instead of taking her straight to the hospital as I should’ve, we made love.” Jay shuddered at the image. “When we finished, she was gasping for air, then just stopped breathing. I tried to revive her but couldn’t. Paramedics tried too. Nothing we could do. She was dead. I wanted to die too,” Jay said, his body trembling.

  I wrapped my arm around his shoulders, feeling his pain. I too felt guilty for Sam’s death. “I’m so sorry, Jay.” I pressed my wet cheek to his.

  “Oh, man, I shouldn’t have brought up all that.”

  ~ * ~

  Driving back to Prytania Street, I watched Jay as he briskly swiped his eyes with the back of his hand. I used a tissue to dab at my tears while we rode in silence, overwhelmed by memories.

  “You’re planning to drive back to the Belle tonight?” Jay asked as he turned on Prytania from St. Charles Avenue.

  “Yes.”

  “With Angela?”

  “No. She’s staying with Melissa.” I saw no reason to mislead him although I anticipated his next question.

  “Lilah?” Jay asked beseechingly as he steered his jeep in the driveway behind my white van and cut the ignition. “Will you come home with me tonight?” His voice resonated through the quiet car.

  “Oh, Jay, I’d like to but...”

  “But what?” He unbuckled his seat belt and turned around to face me. His gaze stopped at my breasts, making my nipples pucker.

  “I’m afraid, Jay. Perhaps I’d feel better if you’d let me come to you,” I said quietly. “Let this be my decision.”

  “In other words, you want me to keep my distance and let you make the moves?” I saw his left hand grip the steering wheel as if he were restraining himself.

  “Yes. I think I would feel more relaxed that way, then, perhaps we can...”

  “Make love?” Jay asked quietly.

  My heart jolted, missed a beat and then pounded in my throat as I thought of us in bed together.

  Jay leaned closer. “What do you want to do, Lilah?”

  “I’ll need to pick up some clothes and other things from the Belle. I’ll meet you over at your house.” I n
ervously reached for the door handle.

  “Lilah,” Jay lightly touched my arm. “It’s almost midnight. Not a safe time for you to be driving alone through the streets of New Orleans. I wish you’d follow me back or let me follow you.”

  ~ * ~

  In my peripheral vision, I saw Billy Joe’s impressive figure wearing clothing the color of night, walking toward me from the courtyard.

  “I thought you were probably asleep,” I said, rolling down my van window to greet him.

  “Did you have a good time?” he asked, staring at me as if he could tell from my expression.

  “Yes, but I’m badly in need of a warm bath and hot tea.”

  “Lilah, won’t you reconsider and stay with us tonight? I’m sure, Natasha has something you can wear tomorrow.” Billy Joe glanced at Jay’s Jeep with the lights and motor on, waiting at the curb.

  “Don’t get upset about this, Billy Joe, but I’ve decided to spend the night with Jay.”

  “Good God, Lilah, you just met the guy. And I found out something about him I think you ought to know.”

  “Don’t tell me you’ve been investigating Jay?”

  “Lilah, I’m checking into anybody who may have had the opportunity to steal your gun.”

  “Jay hasn’t touched my purse, much less searched it.”

  “Well, that may be. But it doesn’t change the fact that he was in the psychiatric unit of Smith Hospital three years ago.”

  “It must have been after Cindy Taylor died.”

  “I found out about that too.”

  “He was in love with her, Billy Joe. He told me what happened. She died in his arms of a drug overdose. Even his mother said they needed to get help for Jay after Cindy’s death. And that’s probably when he went into the hospital. He was depressed. It’s not a crime to get psychiatric help, you know.”

  “No but it indicates mental instability and makes me awfully uneasy.”

  “He’s far from unstable.”

  “Okay, have it your way. Can’t stop you. You grown, as Mama says. But do me a favor, will you? Make sure he knows I have his address and phone number in case he tries anything funny.”

  “Billy Joe, you need to get some sleep and stop worrying about me.” I noticed how tired he looked.

  “I just want you to be safe, Honey.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll call you tomorrow.” I patted his cheek affectionately before backing out of his driveway and following Jay to Interstate 10. On the trip back to La Place, I thought about what Billy Joe said and how many times he’d watched over me. I’d completely lost track of the time when we pulled up at Belle Viella. Jay stopped beside an old oak tree near the driveway entrance. I parked my van beside the sheriff’s department vehicle.

  Jay got out of his Jeep and walked toward me. He seemed to be favoring his right leg.

  “I’ll only be a moment,” I said. “I can meet you at your place.” I smiled and tried not to shiver in the cool night air.

  He brushed back a stray lock of my hair. “I’d like to wait if you don’t mind.” He offered his arm, reminiscent of the first night we met. Before allowing him to lead me up the steps to the front door, I took my little flashlight out of my purse.

  “Good evening, Ma’am. You Ms. Sanderford?” The policeman rose from his vehicle. He bore an uncanny resemblance to Ben Comeaux, although this man was clean shaven.

  “And you are?” I asked.

  “Landry. Officer Landry, Ma’am.”

  “Nice to meet you, Officer Landry.” I touched the front of Jay’s black-leather jacket. “And this is Jay Cascio.”

  Jay nodded but remained silent.

  “That’s who you are. They call you Jaybird. You play and sing in a club on Bourbon Street, don’t you?” Landry smiled broadly and walked around his police car toward us.

  “The Green Door,” Jay answered, quietly.

  “My wife’s crazy ‘bout you. Ever’ time we go there, the place is a wall-to-wall crowd, and Sue’s never had the chance to meet you. You think you could gimme an autograph, Sue’d be tickled.”

  “Sure.” Jay shook hands with Landry.

  The officer tore off a piece of paper from a spiral pad, then placed the torn paper on top of his pad for support.

  I walked toward the Belle. “You two visit while I get my things.”

  “Let me help you,” Jay called to me after signing the paper Landry was holding.

  “I don’t have that much. Be right back.” I hurried up the stairs not waiting for him.

  Inside, I turned on a hall lamp which made me feel a little better about entering the dark mansion.

  I knew it would be cooler in Baltimore so I grabbed my brown jacket, a red blazer, white pants and turtleneck, then folded them into a large straw basket, the one I normally used to carry books and magazines. Lastly, I crammed in a fushia chemise, my cosmetic bag and blow dryer.

  Thinking a cup of herbal tea might be relaxing, I ran downstairs to the kitchen where I remembered seeing a box of chamomile bags.

  As I turned on the kitchen light, I thought how stark and modern-looking the room appeared, almost out of sync with the rest of the house, in spite of the morbid photograph of five women, one of them smiling, standing around a closed coffin.

  I searched the kitchen cabinets, eventually finding the tea on a top shelf, quite a stretch, and I decided to use my flashlight to steer the box toward me.

  The lights went out, then, and someone grabbed me from behind.

  I screamed and hurled the flashlight around to strike my attacker. Like lightning, Jay stopped my hand.

  Furious, I pushed him away. “You scared me. Why did you turn out the lights out?”

  “Baby, I didn’t. I saw the lights from upstairs and when I walked down here, you were reaching for something. I wanted to help you, then everything went dark. I’m sorry I scared you. I didn’t mean to.”

  I shined my flashlight at him.

  He pulled it down under his chin, obviously trying to frighten me more. “I don’t blame you for being scared. This is a spo-o-oky place,” he whispered, sounding like Boris Karloff in an old monster movie.

  “Jay, stop it.” I snatched my flashlight back, then located the tea bags that had fallen on the floor. Jay grabbed my basket of clothes and we headed upstairs.

  I heard the sound of a baby crying, then a loud thump.

  Officer Landry greeted us in the hallway. “Did you see that thing?” he asked.

  I felt something brush up against my leg. Jay reached down and swooped up a black cat. “She’s in heat,” he said, stroking the cat’s head.

  I felt sorry for the poor creature and managed to find some milk in the fridge for her along with the left-over liver pate.

  Chapter Forty-eight

  “I need a bath and a cup of tea,” I told Jay as he unlocked his front door.

  He carried my clothes to the third-floor bathroom, then, brought me a microwaved cup of hot water.

  “I’ll be out in a moment,” I said, closing the bathroom door.

  While I ran my bath and sipped the tea, I couldn’t resist snooping around Jay’s medicine cabinet. I found an expired bottle of Zoloft--probably prescribed after Cindy’s death to treat his depression--and there were the usual: Vaseline, Q-tips, rubbing alcohol, single-edged razors, shaving cream, aspirin, Band Aids.

  Being with Jay’s personal items made me feel closer to him, and I was finally able to relax as I sank down into the steaming tub. I pictured my tense muscles as melting wax and tried not to let my memories of Sam push my guilt to the surface.

  When I felt ready, I arose from the tub and toweled off, then rubbed perfumed lotion all over my body. Next, I brushed my teeth and slipped into my fuchsia chemise. The nightie fit snugly around my breast and barely reached my bikini panties.

  I checked myself in the mirror before combing my hair. My neck looked naked without Martha’s crystal, so, I tied it back on before searching in my purse for powder and lip gloss, which I found al
ong with Beaver Pleaser condoms. I’d bought them two years ago for a fantasy weekend with Sam on his fortieth birthday.

  I grabbed one of the condoms, then stepped out of the bathroom into the hallway. There were strange, grunting noises coming from downstairs. I followed them and saw Jay bench-pressing weights. He was wearing nothing but navy-blue boxers, his body perfectly proportioned as if he were the statue of David come to life.

  Lying on a black work-out bench, he hoisted a metal bar. The blood vessels in his neck and arms bulged as he lifted and lowered the weighted pole.

  When he caught sight of me standing in the stairwell, he jumped up and took two steps in my direction, then hesitated as if I were a wild bird that might fly away. We stared at each other.

  “You look out of this world,” Jay whispered, his voice cracking, his gaze planted on me as he reached down for a jug of distilled water and took a swig. “Feeling better?” he asked.

  I smiled. “Relaxed. Very relaxed.”

  He grabbed a towel hanging over one end of the workout bench, then wiped perspiration from his face. “I’m anything but relaxed.”

  I noticed the bulge underneath his boxers as I walked toward him and touched the exercise equipment. “You must be tired, after this.”

  “Not too tired, Baby,” he whispered, “not too tired for you.”

  I smoothed the hair on his chest.

  “Umm,” he sighed, closing his eyes and tightening his grip on the towel around his neck.

  I smiled seductively. “You’re hot.”

  He opened his eyes and met my glance. “That I am.”

  “You must’ve worked out hard,” I whispered, rubbing my hand downward over his rippled stomach.

  “Very hard.” He unbuttoned his boxer shorts, and placed my hand inside.

  I caressed him there.

  “Lilah,” he groaned. “Hope you’re ready for me.”

  We kissed passionately, before he scooped me up in his arms and carried me upstairs. My own breathing sounded loud and labored. I tried to remember the last time I’d felt this sort of urgency to make love. My whole body seemed to be crying out.

  He placed me on the edge of the bed, grabbed the hem of my chemise and pulled it over my head. “You’re beautiful, Lilah, beautiful,” he whispered while fondling my breasts. His tongue traced my nipples, making them throb.