Sintown Chronicles II: Through Bedroom Windows

by David O. Dyer, Sr.

  “Maybe, but our guys worked all night long and the only one they recovered was the last one Boyd Fisher sent. It sounds fishy to me."

  Lacy ignored his attempt at humor. “I agree. The bastard tried to pin the crime solely on her with that little document. The fact that he reformatted his hard disk before sending that message is proof he was setting her up in case they were caught. You can bet you ass Boyd Fisher knows what a FAT is. He pulled the trigger, but she was definitely his partner in crime."

  “Reformatting the disk means everything is erased?"

  “You really don't know much about computers, do you Detective? Yes, reformatting erases everything. You then have to reload programs and documents. Fisher reloaded only what he wanted us to see."

  “What about the telephone call she claims she made on the morning of the attack?"

  “What about it? We can't recover the content of a telephone conversation."

  “True, but if she did make a call to Fisher from her hotel room that morning, it would tend to corroborate her story that she backed out."

  “Or that she was relaying last minute information."

  “I wish she had opted for an attorney,” Cranfield said. “I don't think she understands what's happening."

  “Well, her boyfriend sure does. He refused voluntary extradition and had a lawyer in the interrogation room inside an hour. Lighten up, Bud. It's over. We've got the bad guys."

  “Maybe."

  * * * *

  “Excuse me. I didn't mean to interrupt. I'll just wait outside until you're finished."

  The nurse smiled as she pushed Sam's leg, with bent knee, back as far as it would go. “You're not interrupting,” she said. “I'm about finished for this session."

  “I'm Leora Borders—Mr. Pond's next-door neighbor."

  “Good to meet you, Leora. I'm Jane Poindexter."

  “What are you doing?"

  “Physical therapy. We don't want Mr. Pond's muscles to atrophy while he's comatose."

  “Any change in Mr. Pond?"

  “Nothing measurable,” the nurse said as she worked Sam's arm, bending it at the elbow.

  “What does that mean?"

  “Well, several of the nurses have noticed it. The expression on Mr. Pond's face changes from time to time. See how pleasant he looks right now? This morning there was a pained expression on his face, and..."

  “And?"

  “I shouldn't say it, but for the last three mornings he has had an erection."

  Leora grinned. “Men!"

  “It's normal for a man to have an erection during the early morning hours. It embarrasses the dickens out of most of them when an orderly comes to bathe them. The point is, at least in this respect, Mr. Pond's body is beginning to act normally."

  The nurse looked at Leora conspiratorially and lowered her voice. “We were going to ask Mrs. Pond to fondle him and see if he reacts, but then we learned she has been arrested."

  “Can't you do it?"

  The nurse blushed. “It wouldn't be ethical."

  Leora's grin widened. “That's what you were doing when I came in. Did he react?"

  The nurse looked compassionately at Sam's face. “He seems to be happy about something."

  * * * *

  “Hey, man,” Cranfield said as he stepped inside the cubicle. “Your wife is on the phone and she's hopping mad."

  Borders looked up from the computer screen, bleary-eyed. “What time is it?"

  “Almost six,” Cranfield replied. “Have you been here all day?"

  Borders nodded. “I'd better talk with Leora. Which phone?"

  “My desk."

  Borders stretched and headed for Cranfield's cubicle.

  “Honey, I lost track of time. I'm sorry."

  “You could have called, Julius. I was worried."

  “Yeah. I'll finish up here in a few minutes. What's for dinner?"

  “Country style steak, you old goat. Yours will be cold ‘cause the rest of us are not going to wait for you."

  “Did you tell Annie?"

  “I told her that Shelly is helping the police find the person that caused Sam's accident."

  “It's beginning to look like she's going to be helping the police for a long time, Leora. Shelly has all but confessed to conspiring with her boyfriend to murder Sam."

  “I don't believe it."

  Borders shrugged as if Leora could see the gesture. “She waived extradition and is on her way back to Myrtle Beach as we speak. Social Services will pick Annie up tomorrow."

  “No! We can't let that happen."

  “It's routine in these cases, Leora."

  “I'm not going to let strangers take that little girl away from me, Julius. Do something!"

  Borders again shrugged. “I don't have much influence anymore, but maybe Bud does. It's worth a shot."

  Cranfield looked up from the computer and laughed as Borders returned to the cubicle. “Your eyes are so bloodshot you look as if you've been on a weekend drunk."

  “I feel like it,” Borders said, propping against the desk. “I'm no fingerprint expert, but I've matched all the prints taken from the Escort against known prints from Shelly, Sam and Annie. I came up with a match of some kind every time."

  “I tried to tell you."

  “Yeah, but I just don't believe Shelly is guilty of any wrongdoing. Neither does Leora. I was really hoping I would find something."

  “According to Shelly,” Cranfield said, “the assailant on the beach wore surgical gloves. If it was the same person who broke into her car, he probably wore gloves that night too."

  “Yeah,” Borders said as he sighed. “I read that in the report. Thanks for the security clearance."

  “You're welcome,” Cranfield replied, pulling a stack of paper from the printer tray, “but I can't let you take a printout with you. You know that, Borders."

  Borders watched his friend fold the papers as if he were preparing to mail them in a number ten envelope. “Leora's a pretty good detective, you know, Bud. I thought she might find something in the report that the rest of us are missing."

  “I should run these through the shredder,” Cranfield said as he tossed the folded document in the trashcan. “There is just one tiny ray of hope, Borders, and it isn't in the report yet. Shelly claims she called Fisher from the beach on the morning of the attack and backed out of the agreement. Miss Hot Pants from Myrtle Beach wasn't going to check it out, but I did. A call was made from the Ponds’ room to Boyd Fisher's residence. They talked for seven and a half minutes."

  “But they could have been talking about anything,” Borders responded.

  “That's what the Myrtle Beach whiz said. She thinks that if Shelly did call Boyd, it was to make last minute plans."

  “Bud, may I ask you a personal question?"

  “Sure."

  “I've known you for what—twenty years?"

  Cranfield nodded.

  “During all that time I've never known you to belittle another officer. What is it about this Myrtle Beach detective that rubs you the wrong way?"

  Cranfield ran his fingers through his hair. “Do you remember what it was like between the passing of your first wife and meeting Leora? Going home to an empty house every night?"

  Borders frowned. “It wasn't fun."

  “I've never been married, Borders, but that doesn't mean I like having no one to share my life—no one to care about and to care about me."

  “You don't mean..."

  “Afraid so."

  “Does she know?"

  “Hell, Borders. She can't be a day over thirty and here I am pushing fifty."

  “Fifty-one if memory serves,” Borders chuckled.

  “Besides, she's the type who would slap a sexual harassment suit on me as quick as she can bat those long eyelashes if I so much as offered her a cup of coffee."

  “She's gone back to Myrtle Beach now. You're no longer working together. Give her a call when you get home."

  “And just what do
you advise I say to her? Hey, baby, I like the way you wear a holster and I want you to fix my breakfast every morning for the rest of my life."

  “Hell, what do I know about courting?” Borders said, laughing. “Leora came on to me."

  “You still looking for a chief of police for the newly incorporated Village of Dot?"

  “We received over a thousand applications,” Borders laughed.

  “She'd make a good one."

  “I thought you didn't care for her talent as a law enforcement officer."

  “She has the training, the moves, the instincts and the desire. All she needs is a little maturity."

  “Hell, Bud. You just want her to move into the area so you can ogle her once in a while."

  “You're probably right,” Cranfield said as he stood and yawned. “Stay all night if you like, Borders. It's been a long day. I'm going home.” He leveled his eyes at his old friend. “Whatever you do, don't take that printout from the trashcan, show it to Leora and tell me of her response."

  “Speaking of Leora, I mentioned to her on the telephone that Social Services will be coming for Annie tomorrow. She split a gasket. We would like to keep Annie if possible. Would you put in a word for us?"

  “Whew. That's a hardboiled crowd over there. They pretty much go by the book, but I'll see what I can do."

  As Cranfield moved through the opening in the cubicle, Borders called after him. “Hey, Bud. I've thought of an excuse."

  “Excuse?"

  “Call Miss whatever-her-name-is. Tell her you wanted to make sure she got home safely and then tell her about the job in Dot."

  Smiling, Cranfield responded, “I'd have to be powerful drunk to work up enough courage to do that."

  “When did you start hitting the bottle, Bud?” Borders asked with concern.

  “I don't."

  * * * *

  Shelly jumped as she heard a key turn in the massive door lock.

  “Good evening, Mrs. Pond,” the blond-haired woman said. “I'm Chris Norway—one of the prison chaplains."

  Someone locked the door behind the chaplain and Shelly shuddered at the sound. “I'm not religious,” she said. “I don't need a chaplain."

  Chris smiled. “I've scanned your record, Shelly. May I call you Shelly?"

  Shelly nodded her assent and clasped her knees with her arms as she sat on the bunk bed.

  Chris sat opposite Shelly at the little desk. “What you need is a good attorney, Shelly. If you can't afford one, the state will provide an attorney for you."

  “I have a little money put away for my daughter,” Shelly said.

  “If you like, I'll ask my friend, Mariah Lyons, to call on you tomorrow. She's a good defense lawyer with considerable experience."

  “Whatever."

  “What's your daughter's name?"

  “Annie. She's almost three. I have no idea where she is."

  “I'll check on her for you tomorrow. Maybe I can arrange a telephone conversation. Would you like that?"

  Shelly looked at the attractive young woman. “Can you do that?"

  “I'll try. Are you comfortable, Shelly? Is there anything I can get for you?"

  “More comfortable than I was in the jail in Charlotte. They put me in a cage with other women. We all used the same toilet in back of the cell. There was no privacy. We even had to shower together."

  “As you can see, there are two bunk beds in here. You may have company later, but no more than four ever occupy a unit. And there is a private bathroom."

  “All the comforts of home,” Shelly responded sarcastically.

  Chris crossed the room, sat beside Shelly and took her hand. “Sometimes it helps to talk about it."

  Shelly gazed into the woman's green eyes. “How did you wind up a prison chaplain?"

  Chris grinned. “I feel that God wants me to be a minister. Unfortunately, I'm a Baptist and, right now, they look down their noses at women in the ministry. This job came open and I jumped at it."

  “But you'd rather work in a church?"

  “That would be my choice, but so far it doesn't seem to be God's plan for me."

  “You should apply for the job in Dot."

  “Dot?"

  “A little town just outside of Charlotte. The place is growing so fast the Baptist Church is looking for an assistant pastor."

  Chris smiled gently. “I thought you said you're not religious."

  “My husband makes me go to church sometimes. He says it's good for my daughter."

  “I agree with him,” Chris said.

  “I'm a stripper. Delilah Delight. Does that shock you?"

  “No, Shelly. With your looks, I'll bet you are very good at it. You know, in the Old Testament, prostitution was a respected vocation for women."

  Shelly jumped to her feet and glared at Chris. “I'm a stripper, damn it—not a whore. I've spent a lot on time on my back with my feet pointed to the ceiling, but no man ever paid for it."

  “I'm sorry, Shelly. I didn't mean to insult you."

  Shelly crossed the room and sat at the desk. “It is a big deal to me. I'm an actress—an exotic dancer—not a whore."

  “Of course. I like your stage name. How did you come up with it?"

  Shelly shrugged her shoulders. “The manager of the first club I worked in gave it to me. I liked it, so I kept it."

  “I understand your husband is in a coma. I'll try to keep you informed about his condition."

  Shelly searched the woman's eyes and liked what she saw. “No one believes me, but I didn't have anything to do with shooting Sam."

  Chris smiled. “Two biblical names,” she said.

  “What?"

  “Delilah and Samuel. They're both in the Old Testament."

  “Sam's real name is Samson."

  Chris clapped her hands. “Even better. There's a wonderful story in the Old Testament about Samson and Delilah. Delilah was Samson's girlfriend. She wasn't a very nice young lady, I'm afraid."

  “You're kidding."

  Chris shook her head while smiling broadly. “No I'm not.” She nodded towards the Gideon Bible on the desk. “Look it up. It's in the Book of Judges."

  Chapter Fifteen

  Shelly grasped the black iron bars and peered through the dingy window, wishing she could see the ocean. She pictured Sam and Annie playing on the beach and the tears came.

  What am I supposed to do with myself? she wondered. There's no television—no magazines—nothing. She stretched out on the bunk and looked at the bottom of the mattress above. I'd give anything for a roommate—someone to talk with. Maybe the preacher lady will come back today. She glanced at the desk and saw the Gideon Bible. Why not? she asked herself as she moved across the room.

  Then went Samson to Gaza, and saw there an harlot, and went in unto her.

  Not much has changed about men since those words were written.

  And it was told the Gazites, saying, Samson is come hither. And they compassed him in, and laid wait for him all night in the gate of the city, and were quiet all the night, saying, In the morning, when it is day, we shall kill him.

  And Samson lay til midnight, and arose at midnight, and took the doors of the gate of the city, and the two posts, and went away with them, bar and all, and put them upon his shoulders, and carried them up to the top of an hill that is before Hebron.

  Strong bastard. Must work out a lot.

  And it came to pass afterward, that he loved a woman in the valley of Sorek, whose name was Delilah.

  Aha!

  And the lords of the Philistines came upon her, and said unto her, Entice him, and see wherein his great strength lieth, and by what means we may prevail against him, that we may bind him to afflict him: and we will give thee every one of us eleven hundred pieces of silver.

  Sounds like a ton of cash to me.

  And Delilah said to Samson, Tell me, I pray thee, wherein thy great strength lieth, and wherewith thou mightest be bound to afflict thee.

  Bitch, he isn't going
to tell you that.

  And Samson said unto her, If they bind me with seven green withs that were never dried, then shall I be weak, and be as another man.

  What the hell is a with?

  Then the Lords of the Philistines brought up to her seven green withs which had not been dried, and she bound him with them.

  Now there were men lying in wait, abiding with her in the chamber. And she said unto him, The Philistines be upon thee, Samson. And he brake the withs, as a thread of tow is broken when it toucheth the fire. So his strength was not known.

  I knew he wouldn't tell her.

  And Delilah said unto Samson, Behold, thou hast mocked me, and told me lies: now tell me I pray thee, wherewith thou mightest be bound.

  And he said unto her, If they bind me fast with new ropes that never were occupied, then shall I be weak, and as another man.

  Delilah therefore took new ropes, and bound him therewith, and said unto him, The Philistines be upon thee, Samson. And there were liers in wait abiding in the chamber. And he brake them from off his arms like a thread.

  If the money is all that important to you, honey, don't let him have any until he tells you the truth.

  And Delilah said unto Samson, Hitherto thou hast mocked me, and told me lies: tell me wherewith thou mightest be bound. And he said unto her, If thou weavest the seven locks of my head with the web.

  And she fastened it with the pin and said unto him, The Philistines be upon thee, Samson. And he awakened out of his sleep, and went away with the pin of the beam, and with the web.

  Don't know what that means, but one thing is for sure. He's still lying to her.

  And she said unto him, How canst thou say, I love thee, when thine heart is not with me? thou hast mocked me these three times, and hast not told me wherein thy great strength lieth.

  And it came to pass, when she pressed him daily with her words, and urged him, so that his soul was vexed unto death;

  That he told her all his heart, and said unto her, There hath not come a razor upon mine head; for I have been a Nazarite unto God from my mother's womb: if I be shaven, then my strength will go from me, and I shall become weak, and be like any other man.

  Urged him, I'll bet. Refused him is more likely.

  And she made him sleep upon her knees;