The Mural

  Elley took a deep breath and wiped the sweat off of her brow. She hated sacrificing her Lexus, which was not yet paid for, but that was part of the plan. There was nothing she could do about it. Big Sir would make up for it, she was certain of that. Elley now had to wait for someone to stop and give her a lift and take her back down the coast.

  Elley tried to imagine what must have run through Broarty’s mind on the way down, and then she started laughing when she remembered the old joke: What’s the last thing to go through a bug’s mind when it hits a windshield? It’s ass. Elley smiled.

  Blaise Micelli was dead.

  Marcus Broarty was dead.

  Two down, just one more to go.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  As Dani Lindstrom was preparing for her first evening gig inside the control booth, familiarizing herself with the board, Randy Mount was circling around her like a vulture. She could have sworn Mount had been wearing a wedding ring when she first met him that afternoon, but all traces of it were now gone from his left hand. She was having a hard time not laughing in the man’s face. It wasn’t so much due to outrage that his family value convictions ended at his zipper as amusement over his misplaced ego, since Randy Mount resembled Alfred E. Neumann in a suit. Yet here he was acting like God’s proverbial gift to women.

  “Hope you don’t mind my sticking around,” Mount said, grinning like an idiot. “I just thought I’d see if you needed any help with anything. It’s the Christian thing to do.”

  Remembering Laurie Mosgionne’s special talent for guilelessness, Dani tried to smile back at him as sincerely as she could. “I’m sure I’ll be fine, but thank you for offering.”

  “My pleasure,” Randy Mount said. “You wear glasses all the time?”

  “Um, no,” she said, suddenly self-conscious about the oversized lenses she always wore when working. “These aren’t even prescription, they’re just slightly tinted. Different places have different lighting systems, and these make it easier on my eyes.”

  “Hey, that’s clever,” Mount replied. “Always be prepared, huh? Just like the Boy Scouts?”

  “I suppose so, though I was never a Boy Scout.”

  Mount laughed too loudly. “I’ll bet you weren’t! Say, are you a married gal, Dani?”

  Randy Mount certainly worked fast, even if it was with the finesse of a pile driver. “I was married, but I’m afraid that ended recently.”

  “Really?” Now he was Mr. Concerned. “I can’t say as I understand why someone would leave a gal like you, but I’m sure sorry to hear it.”

  I left him, jackass, Dani thought, but said: “These things happen, I suppose.”

  Mount nodded with the weight of the world on his head, and his eyes became moist. “Despite the Lord’s best efforts, sometimes we drift apart,” he said. “My wife, for instance—” Oh, here it comes....

  “—doesn’t understand me. Some days I wonder if Satan hasn’t entered her heart. Was that the way it was with your ex-husband?”

  Dani was starting to feel uncomfortable. “Not exactly,” she said. “I’m the one who left.” Then, looking up and staring Mount straight in the eye, she added: “Truth is, I was outraged over his giving me herpes.”

  Randy Mount’s eyes widened into fear-filled moons, while Dani nearly gasped upon hearing the words come back to her. Where had that come from? Perry had not had herpes, and that certainly was not why she kicked him out of her life. But given Mount’s reaction, the lie appeared to be working, so why ask why? In fact, she felt a strange compulsion to keep going. “But I’m sure for the right person, that wouldn’t make any difference,” she said, seductively. “I mean, didn’t Jesus cure the lepers? So why couldn’t someone who was really righteous cure my herpes?”

  “Have faith, sister,” Randy Mount stammered, retreating. “I have to get back to my office now, but have a great show.”

  “Thank you, Randy. God bless you.”

  “Right,” he called back, practically running out of the control booth.

  Dani doubted she would see much more of Randy Mount tonight, and after tomorrow night’s gig she would be away from KSOG and would make it a special point not to return, no matter what Lillian planned for her. Though before she left, she might pass on the herpes excuse to Laurie Mosgionne.

  Dani put her headset on and tried a sound check, listening to her voice bounce back at her, and finessing the sound on the vast control board. The feed going out on air was that of a canned preaching show that the DJ on shift before her, an affable nineteen-year-old guy with a surprisingly good air presence, had started before he left to go to a group sing. It only had a few minutes to go, and then Dani was on. She had listened to a stack of CD’s during the afternoon and picked out some tracks to play, and was relying on the sheets left to her as to the schedule: music until twenty-five after the hour, then the Prayer-of-the-Day, then more music until fifty-five after the hour, and so on until midnight.

  Dani popped her first CD in and cued it up to the desired track, and waited for the canned show to end. Then she switched on her microphone and launched into her spiel.

  “Praise the Lord, and God bless all of you out there listening to KSOG-FM, Son-of-God radio, spreading the Word through Central California. My name is Danica Lindstrom and I’m sitting in this evening for Marybeth Klaidy, who is at home fighting a little bug this evening. We all wish her godspeed. You get better, Marybeth, hear? I’ll be taking you through to the midnight hour, the dawn of a new, perfect day, praise the Lord. So let the spirit fill your heart as we start our shared journey with the sounds of Amanda Raines singing her hit song, ‘He’s All I Need.’” Dani cut off her mike and hit the button for the CD, and heard the first twangs of the countryish open to the track play, then jotted down the title and time on the log. When the song was nearing the end she cued up her next one and waited for the proper moment to break back in with a hearty “Praise the Lord!” and then pop the next tune.

  About twenty minutes into her set, Randy Mount poked head into the booth again. “Uh, hi, I just had a question,” he said. Dani shot a quick glance at his left hand and noted with amusement that his prodigal wedding ring had returned home. “Are you Irish?”

  If this was another pick-up line, it was an original one. “Actually, I’m a hundred percent Swedish. Why do you ask?”

  “Oh, well, it was just the accent, it sounded kind of Irish.”

  “Accent?” Dani continued to work very, very hard to make sure that she had no natural accent of her own, while practicing slight lilts and inflections for professional purposes. But here, in the middle of California, she had opted not to use any of her stock regional ones and speak in her natural voice.

  “Every time you say, ‘the Lord,’” Mount went on, “it kind of sounds like, ‘the Lard.’ You know, sort of Irish.”

  “I said ‘Praise the Lard?’”

  Mount cleared his throat. “Well, that’s how it came over through the feed.”

  “Oh. Sorry, I guess I’ll have to watch it. Thanks for pointing it out.”

  “No problem.” He slipped back through the door as the song was coming to a close. Like hell I said ‘lard’ she thought, but it probably wouldn’t hurt to take care just the same. Switching her mike back on, she announced: “That was Brain Deadman...uh, I mean, Brian Redman...sorry about that, Brian, with ‘Jesus is the Reason.’ I’d like to thank all of you for spending your evening right here with me on KSOB...I mean G!” Dani hit the cough button and cut her mike before the gasp emerged. Recovering instantly, she went back on air and said: “I’m sorry folks, I’m new around here and like everyone I make mistakes. We all know there was only one person in history that didn’t, and he’s not here tonight. I mean, he’s not physically here, running the board. Sure, of course, he’s here in spirit, Praise the Load.”

  She hit her cough button again.

  What was wrong with her tonight?

  Dani decided not even to try coming back on the air. She simply put in anoth
er song, took off her headset, leaned back and took a few deep breaths. She closed her eyes, but heard the door open. “I know, I know, and I’m so sorry,” she said. “That time I said ‘Load.’”

  “Uh, Miss Lindstrom,” Randy Mount said, “I don’t want to falsely accuse anyone of anything, but, uh, you’re not doing this on purpose, are you?”

  “On purpose? Of course not. Why would I say that shit on purpose?”

  Randy Mount’s mouth fell open and his eyes widened again as he backed out of the studio. Through the glass she could see him going to the nearest desk in the office area and picking up a telephone. She had a pretty good idea who he was calling.

  “Get a grip, Lindstrom!” she demanded of herself.

  Putting the headset back on, she waited for the music to end and hit the pause, then came back on and said: “I just love the message of that song, don’t you? You’re listening to KS-hole-G, and—”

  Had she really just said K-asshole-G? No, she couldn’t have. She was just getting paranoid.

  “—and my name is Danica Lindstrom, filling in tonight for Marybeth Klaidy, the blessed person who normally takes this time slot. Marybeth is a little under the weather this evening, and I’m so glad she is because now I can be here in her place.”

  Dammit!

  “No, wait, that didn’t come out right. I don’t mean I’m glad she’s sick, I mean I’m glad that I have the opportunity to share the word of the...of God with you while Marybeth’s in the sack...I mean, slick in bed...licked in bed...oh, shit!”

  This time Dani clapped her hand over her mouth, the sound of which went out over the airwaves. Immediately every line of every phone in KSOG started to light up. Through the glass she could see Randy Mount staring at her, horrified, a phone in his hand. Then she started laughing.

  “I wish you could all see what I’m seeing,” Dani heard herself saying. “A behind-the-scenes employee of this fine establishment, Mr. Randy Mount, is glaring at me through the window like I’ve just grown horns. But you want to talk horny, I’ll fill you in on Mr. Mount. Jesus ain’t the only one he’s tried to jump tonight, folks. Before I went on the air he did his goddamnedest to maketh me lie down so he could comfort me with his rod and his staff, you know what I’m saying?”

  Dani heard more words coming out of her mouth, but she had no more control over them than if they had been prerecorded on tape. Neither could she lift her hand to either bring it down on the cough button or cut her microphone off all together. She heard herself using words that she never used, even in private conversation. She wanted to desperately but her hand would not move when commanded.

  It was like she was possessed.

  Now through the glass she could see two security guards rush into the outer office. “Uh oh, looks like the barbarians are about to storm the gate,” she said. “The Nazis have landed and they don’t look happy. Well, fucks, I mean folks, oh, fuck it, I meant the first one, I hope you had as much fun here tonight as I did. Thanks for listening to K-SUCK, and remember: there is no God. There is no Jesus. And Mary did it with everyone. You’re all nothing but a flock of sheep, being had by the biggest con organization in the history of the human race....”

  Led by Randy Mount, the two burly male security guards now burst into the studio and ran to either side of Dani, taking her by the arms and stood her up. “Woo hooo, it’s a gang rape!” she screamed into the microphone. Mount reached over the control panel and grabbed the headset off of her head, taking several strands of platinum hair with it, but Dani seemed oblivious to that. He tried to switch off the microphone himself, but found he could not. The red light over the door remained lit. He pounded on the cough button as the guards literally carried Dani, who was screaming and moaning as though having multiple orgasms, out of the booth, but it too had no effect. Sweat was pouring down his face and his blood was coming from his fingers and he ripped at the cord for the mike. The red light remained on.

  “Mother jumpin’ whore!” Mount screamed in frustration to the microphone. “What do I have to do to kill you?”

  Instantly, all control panel lights went out, as did the red On Air light above the door.

  “Thank God,” Mount muttered, taking out a handkerchief and mopping his face.

  He could hear the phones still ringing off the hooks outside, and he went back through the door and into the office. There he saw the figure of Dani Lindstrom sprawled out on the floor, while the two security guards hovered over her, nervously.

  “What happened?” Mount asked. “What did you do to her?”

  “We didn’t do anything,” one of the guards said. “We got her out here and she just fainted, smack dead on the floor.”

  “She’s not dead, though, right?”

  “No, there’s still a pulse,” the other guard said. “You ask me, she must be sick.”

  “I think she demonstrated that well enough on the air, the dirty little harlot.”

  “What should we do now?” the first guard asked, and after working at the station for four years, Mount still did not know the names of the building staff.

  “Well...I suppose we should call paramedics to see if they can revive her,” Mount said.

  “You want us to do that?”

  “No, no, you fellows go on with your rounds, I’ll call from here. And thanks for coming up and helping. I probably don’t have to tell you that I’ve never had an experience like this.”

  “Sure you don’t need us to stick around till the EMTs show?” the first guard asked.

  “No, no, you go on, I’ll stay here with her and make sure she’s okay. G’night.”

  Once the guards left the station was totally quiet. Even the phones had stopped ringing. Maybe everybody gave up, or maybe they jammed a circuit somewhere. Mount looked over at Dani, prone on the floor, with her arms splayed out above her head and her legs slightly apart.

  “I don’t know what your problem is, gal,” he whispered, “but even now you’re one fine-looking filly.”

  He stepped to her and checked her pulse for himself. He could feel the beat, and it was even and steady, if a bit faint. He touched her forehead and neck, to see if she would move. She did not. He opened her eyelid. Mount wasn’t sure why people did that, but he always saw it in movies. Dani’s left eye stared sightlessly.

  She was gone. Far gone.

  Mount had a decision to make. This woman had made a horrible mess of things, and had probably gotten him in trouble with his wife by ratting him out on the air. He’d better not get in any deeper. But as he thought, his breathing became heavier, harder. He felt his entire face and chest flush with each intake of air.

  Lord, was she a babe! Even with the white hair, which he ran his fingers through. Who would ever believe her? he thought. After her performance on air, who would believe anything she said?

  Panting, Randy Mount carefully slid his hand down the neck of Dani’s blouse until he had her right breast cupped in his hand. She made no move. Taking his hand away, he unbuttoned the blouse and laid it open, revealing a plain white brassiere, the clasp for which was in the front—proof that she was a whore.

  He unhooked her bra and pulled the sides apart, revealing her breasts. Mount gingerly fondled them.

  Dani did not move.

  Emboldened now, he dashed over to the light switch for the office and turned off all lights, casting the large room in darkness. There was just enough illumination coming in from the hallway outside to see Dani’s sleek body. Randy Mount stuck his fingers in the top of her skirt and pulled it down, all the way past her feet, and then set it aside. He did the same with her panties.

  Danged if her hair wasn’t white everywhere.

  Mount was less careful taking off all of his clothes, which he threw in a heap. He stood totally naked over her body, hard as a hammer. He lowered himself down on top of her, reveling in her warmth. He started kissing her chin and neck, and slowly slid down until he got to her nipples, and when he was done there he moved down her belly, and then to
her snowy public hair. He kissed the insides of her thighs, but refused to enter her, either with his tongue or his dick. She had confessed to having herpes. But Dear Lord, he was about to explode!

  Mount crawled back up and lay down on her again, positioning his throbbing cock flat against her abdomen, then began moving up and down, stroking his member in between their warm bellies. Mount could feel his seed rising. He pumped harder, grunting with every thrust. He was on the verge of climax, and sensed it was going to be spectacular.

  Just then the lights of the radio station suddenly switched on, blinding him, as a rush of his hot semen shot all over Dani’s front.

  Mount heard a woman scream and looked up, squinting in the sudden light.

  “What in the name of Our Lord Jesus are you doing?” a man’s voice thundered, and didn’t need clear vision to know that the shouter was Dr. William T. LeFavre. Jumping off of Dani, he made a leap for his clothes.

  “Dear Lord in Heaven,” groaned Missy LeFavre, who was standing behind her husband.

  Randy Mount cowered nakedly in a corner, holding his pants in front of him, shivering both from the sudden cold and the sheer terror he was feeling.

  “He killed her,” Missy squeaked through her hands, which were now covering her mouth.

  “No!” Mount shouted. “I didn’t touch her!”

  “Didn’t touch her?” LeFavre roared. “My God, man, you were lying on top of her! I think that qualifies as touching.”

  “What I mean is—“

  “I heard what you said right before the station cut out,” Missy cried. “You said, ‘What do I have to do to kill you!’”

  “I meant that whore of a microphone!” Mount blubbered. “She’s not dead, she’s...she’s warm.”