Sintown Chronicles II: Through Bedroom Windows

by David O. Dyer, Sr.

  “Greta, you must hate me."

  “Eddie's a strange man. You seem to make him happy."

  “He said you were all for this arrangement. You say the word and I'll leave."

  “That your Ford in the driveway?"

  Sewana nodded.

  “You enjoy screwing Eddie?"

  “I'm not going to lie about it. He's the only white guy I've ever been with. He knows how to push my buttons, if you know what I mean."

  “He ever beat you?"

  “No. I'm not masochistic like you."

  “What does masochistic mean?"

  “It means pain excites you sexually."

  Greta nodded. “It does sometimes, but here lately Eddie's been going too far. If you were to leave, he'd half kill me."

  “Now you're exaggerating."

  She shook her head. “He told me if I didn't make you welcome he'd take me to the basement, hang me by my ankles, slice off my breasts and watch me bleed to death."

  “And you believe him?"

  He's been down there all week building a room. He calls it his torture chamber. It has soundproof walls and chains and handcuffs and whips. He built something that looks like a sawhorse, only the crosspiece has a sharp edge. He made me sit on it and it hurts bad. Last night he chained me to the wall and used my breasts as a target for his air pistol. It stung like hell."

  The door swung open. “Well, Sewana. All cleaned up now?” Eddie was holding his leather belt in his hand.

  “Yeah,” she said uneasily with a feeble attempt at a laugh. “I love this bidet."

  “Good,” he responded. “She's clean now, Greta,” he said as he showed her the belt he held in his hand. “You know what I want."

  Greta obediently bent over the side of the Whirl Pool and raised her exposed buttocks.

  “Eddie, don't,” Sewana shouted as she grabbed his arm.

  “Greta, you want your butt whipped, don't you?” Eddie asked.

  “If it will give you pleasure."

  “You deserve to be punished for not eating Sewana's pussy like I told you, don't you bitch?"

  “Yes, Eddie. But she didn't want me to."

  “You want me to punish you, or would you rather have Sewana tan your fanny?"

  “Whatever you want, honey."

  He handed the belt to Sewana and motioned with his head towards Greta's upturned bottom.

  Sewana took the belt in her left hand and found his scrotum with her right. “Whipping a woman doesn't excite me, Eddie baby. But blistering your ass does."

  He laughed uneasily. “You're kidding. You want to whip me?"

  “No. I want to watch Greta do it."

  He laughed again. “No way in hell, Nigger."

  “You call me that again and I'm out of here.” She squeezed his testicles hard.

  “Greta wouldn't do that,” he hedged.

  Greta was still holding the position to receive the belt on her buttocks. “I will if you tell me to,” she said timidly.

  “Go on,” Sewana urged, “bend over, you hairy ape, and when she's through Greta and I will give you some loving you'll never forget."

  He smiled thinly. “You don't think I'll do it, do you? Get up Greta."

  He traded places with Greta, assumed the position and braced himself for the weak blows he knew Greta would deliver.

  Greta swung the belt with all her might. His body jerked and the white flesh turned flaming red.

  “Go easy, damn it,” he barked.

  “Nine more,” Sewana urged.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Greta, I feel terrible about all this. I don't know exactly why I had sex with Eddie the first time, but I did and, as I said last night, he knows how to push my buttons. He told me you were a swinger and wanted me to move in with the two of you as much as he did. I bought it. If I had any idea of the way he treats you, I wouldn't be here now."

  “But you are still here, Sewana. Ain't nobody holding a gun to your head. You could have packed up and moved out by now."

  “Is that what you want?"

  “Keep you voice down, Sewana. Let's don't wake him. It don't matter what I want. If you move out, Eddie will blame me for it."

  “Why do you let him treat you so badly?"

  “He can send me to prison, or maybe even the gas chamber, if he wants to. He knows things about my past. Now he wants me to be your slave and I just don't have any other choice."

  “Well, I do have other choices. He doesn't have anything on me. It's just that..."

  “Just what, Sewana?"

  “It's just that he pushes my buttons."

  Greta nodded. “He can push mine too when he wants to. Eddie says I'm a nymphomaniac. That's a woman who can't get enough sex. I reckon I am. Hell, some times I get off when he beats me. I can't explain it."

  “Well, he's going to start treating you better or I'll leave, and you're not going to be my slave either. That's for sure. I'll tell him as much as soon as he wakes up."

  “If you're going to hang around I advise you not to make Eddie angry. I know what he is capable of doing."

  “Is that a car horn?"

  “Yeah. My friend, Maggie, picks me up every morning to take me to work at the Dollars’ house."

  Sewana watched the Blazer disappear, checked to see that Eddie was still sleeping and crept cautiously down the basement steps. She found the room behind the furnace that Greta called the torture chamber, but there was a padlock on the door. She remembered seeing a ring of keys on the bedroom dresser.

  Quietly she retraced her steps. Eddie was on his back, breathing evenly. She lifted the keys carefully, but they jingled slightly anyway. Keeping the keys hidden from his possible view, she turned to the bed with a big smile on her face. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that he was still sleeping.

  She returned to the basement and found the right key. She flipped a switch and the room flooded with light. She gasped audibly when she saw that Greta's description was accurate.

  “You shouldn't stick you nose in other people's business,” Eddie barked.

  She whirled around and saw his hulk blocking the door. “Get your clothes off, Nigger. I'm going to teach you a lesson you will never forget."

  She forced a large, toothy smile to her face. “Good morning, sleepyhead,” she managed to say. “Greta told me about your special room this morning. I didn't want to wake you, but I just had to see it. Man, this room turns me on."

  “It does?"

  “Yeah, and Greta too."

  “What did she say?"

  “She was so excited telling me about it that she actually played with herself while I watched."

  “She did that?"

  Sewana nodded. Her confidence was growing. “I changed my mind while standing here looking at all this great stuff."

  “Changed your mind about what?"

  “About watching you abuse Greta."

  “What do you have in mind?"

  “I ... I was just thinking about it when you surprised me. I want you to suspend Greta from the ceiling with those chains and make her straddle the horse. Let's tie weights to her ankles so the sharp edge digs deep into her crotch. I want to listen to her scream while I cane her tits and you flay the flesh off her back.” She watched Eddie's eyes glaze over. “Then lets spread her on the floor. I'll sit on her face while you hump her."

  He licked his lips and clutched his groin. “Tonight,” he said lustily, “when she gets home from work."

  “I can hardly wait.” She tried to match his tone of voice.

  “Let's get some breakfast and plan this thing out in detail,” he said with a smirk on his face.

  She squatted before him and pulled down his boxer shorts. “Guess what I want for breakfast,” she said. God, that was close, she thought as she flicked the tip of her tongue over the head of his penis. This jerk is insane.

  * * * *

  Greta was running water in the sink to wash the accumulated dishes when Sandra entered the kitchen and col
dly said, “Greta, Tim and I want to see you immediately in his study."

  She followed her boss to the study and sat at the conference table in the chair Tim held for her.

  “Greta,” Tim said. “This is not going to be a pleasant conversation."

  “Have I done something wrong?"

  “We're not accusing anyone of doing anything wrong, but some changes need to be made immediately,” Sandra said. “We no longer require your services."

  “I don't understand. I thought I was doing a good job. I've worked hard for you, and I've done things for both of you that no other housekeeper is likely to do."

  “Yes, you have,” Tim said. “You've engaged in sex with both Sandy and me. Sandy and I take our share of the blame. We both knew better. But Sandy and I are agreed it's best if we find another housekeeper and put this situation behind us."

  Greta began to cry. She stretched out her hands towards Sandy. “Please don't fire me. Oh, God. Please don't fire me. You both saw what Eddie done to my ass. He'll kill me if I lose my job."

  “I imagine you can get your job back at the motel,” Sandy said. “And we will write you a sizable severance check."

  “It don't matter. He wants me to work for you. Please don't do this to me. I'll do anything you say."

  Greta felt a glimmer of hope as she saw the Dollars exchange glances.

  “Greta,” Tim said. “We were as much at fault as you were. We know that. If you promise to keep your mouth shut about having sex with Sandy and me, we will give you ten thousand dollars. That should take care of your problem with Eddie."

  “Don't you see,” Greta sobbed. “That won't work. I would still have to explain why you fired me and gave me the money. If Eddie even suspected that I had sex with you I honestly believe he would kill me and might even come after the two of you."

  “Why do you put up with Eddie?” Sandra asked. “Take the ten thousand and go somewhere else—start a new life."

  “I've thought of that. Believe me, I've thought of that. Somehow he'd find me, and if he didn't, he'd tell the police about me and they would find me."

  “The police?” Sandra asked.

  Greta nodded. “I ... I killed a man once."

  Tim leaned back in his chair. “If you want us to help you, you'd better explain."

  “Back in Fayetteville a few years ago I was a prostitute. I worked the military base and made good money. Most of my customers were either having sex for the first time or were repeat johns. It was easy money."

  “Go on,” Sandra encouraged.

  “One night I propositioned the wrong guy. He wanted a blowjob and took me into an alley. His buddies were waiting. They worked me over and when they were too tired to screw me anymore, they really got nasty. They cut off my hair and made me eat it and wash it down with their piss. They threw me down and burned me with cigarettes. One guy sat on my legs and started yanking out pubic hair. Another sat on my stomach and pulled a switchblade from his pocket. He was going to cut off my nipples and save them as souvenirs. It was dark in that alley and I was out of my mind. I searched with my hand for a weapon, anything I could hit the guy with. I found a rock or a brick or something and bashed his head with it. Blood spurted everywhere. The guy fell on top of me and he was big. I couldn't get him off. His buddies ran."

  Sandra handed Greta a tissue and she blew her nose.

  “Eddie happened to be passing the alley about that time. The little restaurant he was working at was just around the corner. He heard the commotion and saw the men running away. He found me, pushed the man off me and said he was dead. He wiped my fingerprints off the brick and carried me to his apartment. Eddie said I had two choices. I could go to jail for murder or I could become his sex slave."

  “But it was self-defense,” Tim said.

  “Eddie said I couldn't prove it and he said the military lawyers would be after my ass."

  “By not turning you in, Eddie is an accessory to the crime,” Sandra said.

  “I don't understand."

  “It means he is in about as much trouble with the law as you are."

  “I don't know about that. Please don't fire me. Let things go back to the way they were."

  Tim looked at Sandra and she nodded. “Would you be interested in a different solution to the problem?” he asked.

  Greta nodded.

  “If you are willing to come live with us and be a full-time, round the clock housekeeper, we'll provide you with the same salary plus food, lodging and clothing."

  “How would that help?"

  “He's not through yet,” Sandra said.

  “Greta, I like your body, as you know, and Sandra likes your body too,” Tim said. We are suggesting that the three of us have a close, personal relationship, if you know what I mean. We'll be good to you and you will be much better off than you are now."

  “How can I explain that to Eddie?"

  “Perhaps,” Sandra offered, “you can tell Eddie that we know about that night in the alley. If necessary we will defend you in court and see to it that he goes to jail for not reporting the crime and for white slavery."

  Greta reached for the tissues and again blew her nose. “What's white slavery?"

  Tim coughed. “I'm not sure what the legal term is, Greta, but it is a serious felony to kidnap someone and force them into servitude. That, in essence, is what Eddie has done with you."

  “I don't know what to do,” she said. “If I do come to live with you, could we do some things in bed that I like?"

  Sandra laughed, breaking the tension. “Like what?” she asked.

  “This is going to sound dumb, but sometimes Eddie brings home sex tapes he plays on the VCR. I like those things and I picture myself as one of the women in the tapes. They all seem to be having so much fun."

  “You want to watch a tape of you having sex with one of us?” Tim asked.

  She nodded and grinned. “Too kinky, huh?"

  “I don't see why we couldn't do that if we make damn sure the tapes are erased after we've watched them,” Sandra answered as she winked at Tim.

  “Could I ask one more favor?” Greta said. “Could you give me a few days to think about all this?"

  Tim again received a nod from Sandra. “One week,” he replied solemnly.

  * * * *

  “Leora, I offer you my most humble apologies,” Borders said as he entered their bedroom.

  Leora completed the sentence she was typing on the keyboard and turned to him.

  “Would you look at this?” he said as he spread photographs on the bed. “Pete ran the composites like you asked. When you fatten Baxter's face up and add the beard, he does, indeed, look like Eddie Crow. Just for good measure Pete took your Polaroid of Crow, slimmed down the face and removed the beard. The result is the same—Crow looks like Preacher Baxter."

  “I hate to say I told you so."

  Borders hugged his wife and laughed. “No you don't. You love to rub it in when you are right."

  “When have I ever been wrong?” she asked innocently.

  “While I was there I ran a trace on Baxter.” Borders pulled a computer printout from his briefcase. “He literally dropped from sight when he left Dot. There is no data on him after Dot, even in the Social Security files."

  “What was his life like before coming to Dot?"

  “Unexceptional,” Borders replied. “He was born in Winston-Salem, graduated from Reynolds High School, went to Carson-Newman College and from there to Southeastern Theological Seminary. The job as pastor of the Dot Baptist Church was his first as a minister. As far as the record shows, he was never in any trouble with the law. Once while working at a convenience store in Raleigh during his Seminary days, he was physically assaulted during a robbery. That's about it."

  “Did you by any chance run a check on Eddie Crow?"

  “Of course I did, you pretty little lady. He seems to have come into existence about the same time Baxter disappeared. He worked for three years in a small diner in Fayettevill
e, moved to Charlotte for a few months and then showed up in Dot."

  “They're one and the same, just like I told you Borders."

  “There's one way to prove it, Leora. Baxter was fingerprinted when he applied for the convenience store job—something to do with a bond. If we can get Crow's fingerprints, we can compare them."

  “It's still just a curiosity. Even if Baxter is Crow,” Leora said, “it doesn't tell us anything."

  “That's what I told you Sunday, but I've been thinking. Bobby Elliott was a member of the Dot church while Baxter was pastor. He didn't marry Adele until after Baxter disappeared, but still, if Crow is Baxter we have two circumstantial pieces of evidence against him. He knew Elliott in his previous life and he owns a high powered rifle. Damn it all, I wish we could find that other bullet."

  “Bobby Elliott was a good friend of the Dollars as well as their employee. I still think Sandy knows more than she's telling, but unless I change my mind I will honor your request and not question her again."

  Borders kissed her on the forehead and chuckled. “Go ahead and change your mind. I haven't mentioned one little detail yet. The group that robbed the convenience store and beat up Baxter was the Van Fans."

  “The gang that Sandra once belonged to?"

  Baxter nodded as the telephone on Leora's desk began to ring. She answered it and, after a moment, said, “It's for you, Borders—Tim Dollar."

  “Hello, Tim. How are you?"

  “Great. I hope you are."

  “Never felt better,” Borders said. “What can I do for you?"

  “I heard the other day that you have gone into the private detective business, looking for the killer of Bobby Elliott."

  “That's right, Tim. I'm after your $100,000 reward as well as justice. Do you have some additional information?"

  “No, but I was wondering if you could take on another case?"

  “Depends on what it is."

  “I don't want to make too much out of it, but I need to know if a soldier, or any other young man for that matter, was killed by a blow to the head in an alley in Fayetteville approximately three to four years ago."

  “That shouldn't be too hard to track down. What else?"

  “That's it. I'm trying to check out a, uh, potential employee's story."