Sintown Chronicles II: Through Bedroom Windows

by David O. Dyer, Sr.

  “Damn, isn't that Ascue's van leaving the lot?” Cranfield shouted. He tossed the towel hiding a cellular telephone to one side and punched in a programmed number as Lacy uncovered the portable radio.

  “Detective Spencer, here,” she barked into the tiny microphone. “The suspect is leaving the parking lot. Tail him, but do not stop him. Repeat, do not stop the suspect."

  “Ketcham,” Cranfield snapped, “the pigeon flew the coop. Grab a tape recorder and the photograph of Ronald Ascue from the Shelly Pond file. Hot-tail it to Charlotte Memorial and see if Sam Pond can identify the picture as the man his wife was having an affair with at the Dot swimming pool. Call me the instant you have an answer."

  “What affair, Bud?"

  “I'll explain later. Just do it.” He disconnected, grabbed the towel and hastened to catch up with the others, hurrying towards the dressing room.

  Tim Dollar stopped him. He already had Lacy impatiently waiting. “Sandy says Ron is suspicious. He's headed back to the house. He told Sandy he's clearing out."

  “Damn,” Bud grumbled.

  “Sandy didn't take time to change. She's on her way and will try to detain him until you can get there."

  “Shit,” Lacy said as she raised the radio to her lips. “Detective Spencer here. All cars—the suspect is headed for the Dollar residence. Park on the highway and surround the house on foot. Do not let the suspect see you—repeat—do not let the suspect see you."

  “Tim,” Cranfield said. “If Ascue is the assailant, Sandy is in deep trouble. He's a dangerous man and there's not a damn thing we can do at this point but wait. A deputy is on the way to the hospital. If Sam Pond identifies Ascue's photograph as Shelly's pool lover, I'll risk my badge and arrest him. It would be best if Ascue does pack and drive away. We can tail him and pull him over without anyone getting hurt."

  Tim looked from one detective to the other. “Sandy thought she was doing the right thing. May I ask a personal favor?"

  “Hurry up, Tim. We need to get out there,” Lacy prompted.

  “If you have to enter the house, please, just the two of you go in."

  “What are you talking about?"

  “I know how Sandy plans to delay Ron. She's going to try to get him in bed."

  Lacy dressed hurriedly and rushed to the parking lot where Bud waited beside the open trunk. He handed her the holstered police special and her credentials and slammed the trunk.

  As she strapped on the seat belt, Cranfield said, “There's no blind approach to the house. Tim says their bedroom is on the front right and Ascue's is at the left rear."

  “First floor?"

  Cranfield shook his head as the unmarked car pulled out of the lot. “Second. We'll have to go in the front door. Tim gave me a key."

  “Borders tells me you think I'm a fine looking lady as well as an excellent police officer. Is that true?” Lacy asked.

  “Where did that come from?"

  “Whenever I'm in a tense situation, I try to think of something that will help me relax."

  “Borders has a big mouth."

  “Did you say it?"

  “What if I did?"

  “You don't object to my height and muscles?"

  Cranfield refused to reply.

  “Well?"

  “I think you are a fine looking woman. Enough said."

  “I don't mess around, Bud. No one night stands for this girl."

  “I never said anything to Borders about a one night stand."

  “He claims you want me to cook your breakfast every morning."

  Cranfield knew his face was crimson. “Borders talks too much."

  “How do you like your eggs, Bud?"

  He kept his eyes on the road. “Over light."

  “I think you are fine looking too, Bud Cranfield."

  Cranfield parked on Highway 13 across from the entrance to Double D Acres. “There's tree cover halfway up the drive,” he commented, looking out his side window.

  “And thirty feet of wide open space."

  Bud grabbed the cell phone before it completed its first ring. “Cranfield."

  Lacy watched his face as he listened intently.

  “Good work. Now go see the judge.” He disconnected. “We have a positive ID."

  “You think we still need a warrant?"

  “It won't hurt."

  “Bud, Ascue does not know we are detectives. Which will look more suspicious—us walking up the driveway or arriving in an unmarked car?"

  He cranked the car and slowly drove up the drive. “Let me get the door for you,” he said as he parked behind Ascue's van.

  She glared at him. “I'm not a helpless female."

  “We need to look like a happy couple.” He walked around the back of his car, opened her door and held out his hand.

  Lacy smiled as she emerged, accepting the offered assistance.

  As they started up the walkway, he slipped his hand around her waist. “Just for appearance,” he whispered.

  She continued to smile. “If we're supposed to be a happy couple, maybe we should pause for a kiss."

  “Yeah,” he said. “That might help.” He stopped, looked at her and felt his face flushing. He leaned forward and pecked her offered lips.

  “What the hell was that?” She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressed her body to his and forced his lips to hers with her hand, firmly tangled in his salt and pepper hair.

  He clutched her hand and they continued towards the porch.

  “You tickled my tonsils,” he mumbled.

  “You complaining?"

  “Hell, no."

  They drew their weapons as they listened at the front door. Soundlessly, Cranfield inserted the key and turned the knob. They crept into the darkened entranceway. Lacy glanced up the ornate stairway as they both heard a male moan. She grinned at Cranfield and motioned with her head. They eased up the stairs and paused when they reached the hall.

  “Oh, baby."

  The detectives winked at each other, slipped down the hall towards Ascue's bedroom and stood outside the slightly ajar door.

  “It's so big,” they heard Sandra say. “You like that Ronnie?"

  Ron moaned again.

  “How about this?"

  “Oh, God, Sandy. I can't take any more. Do it, baby. Do it."

  “How do you want it, Ronnie?” Sandra cooed.

  “I don't care, baby. Help me out here. Use your mouth, your pussy or your hand. Just do it, baby."

  The detectives burst through the door, their weapons pointed at the bed. Sandra, still wearing the bikini, leaped off the mattress as Ron, totally naked, cursed and struggled to free himself from the ropes that bound his wrists to the head of the bed.

  “I don't think he'll try S&M again any time soon,” Sandra said seriously.

  “Bitch!” Ascue screamed as he continued to struggle with the ropes.

  “Nice looking tattoo you have on your thigh, Mr. Ascue,” Lacy said as she holstered her handgun.

  “Ronald Ascue,” Bud said as he, too, holstered his weapon, “you're under arrest for armed robbery and attempted murder. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney, and to have an attorney present during any questioning. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be provided for you at government expense."

  Bud picked up Ascue's shorts and began to work them up his legs as Lacy rummaged through a collection of debris on the dresser.

  “I want a damned lawyer!” Ascue screamed. He glared at Sandra. “I'll get you for this, bitch.” He rolled his head towards Lacy as Bud snapped a cuff on his right wrist. “You have a search warrant?” he demanded.

  “One's on the way, my friend,” Bud said sarcastically as Sandra loosened the rope from the top of the bed, “but, under the circumstances, we don't need it."

  “You stupid ass,” Lacy hissed as she filtered through the contents of Ascue's billfold and held up a credit card
receipt. “You were so damn careful, but you bought gas in Myrtle Beach on the night of the attack and charged it against your MasterCard. You even kept the receipt."

  Bud looked at Ascue, now sitting up on the bed with his arms cuffed behind him. “We have enough to send you away for a long time. I just don't understand why you did it. What did you have against Sam Pond?"

  “Not Sam, you stupid hayseed. The bitch cut me off.” He glared at Sandra. “No slittail does that to Ron Ascue and gets away with it."

  * * * *

  Lacy punched in the numbers and propped her feet on Cranfield's desk. “Mrs. Gilder, this is Lacy Spencer. May I speak with Mark, please?"

  She nodded at Bud, who pretended to straighten up a file cabinet.

  “What's up, Spencer?"

  “How's your day off, partner?"

  “The Battleaxe had me up at dawn doing honey-dos. How'd the butler thing turn out?"

  She snickered. “Damned if the butler didn't do it this time. We've got him cold."

  “He's in the lock-up?"

  “Yep."

  “Do you have a confession?"

  “Not in writing, but he told Bud and me that he was having an affair with Shelly. She cut him off when she got married."

  “So it was a revenge thing and Shelly was the intended target."

  “You got it."

  “Did he waive extradition?"

  “Not yet. He's waiting for legal advice."

  “How about the other guy, Fisher?"

  “Right about now I imagine he's packing his clothes."

  “The North Carolina guys turned him loose?"

  “Yeah. Bud put the fear of the Lord in him. Seems the Macintosh computer he used, and the one he gave Shelly, were stolen from a former employer and when they searched Fisher's apartment, they found a stash of weed. Bud gave him his choice of leaving town or facing charges.” Lacy chuckled. “Bud told him if he ever came back to Charlotte he'd haunt him like the ghost of his worst enemy."

  “Bud, Bud, Bud. You must have mentioned that guy's name a dozen times. Is there something going on I don't know about, Lacy?"

  She grinned and ignored the question. “They're not going to prosecute Shelly either. The DA doesn't think a conspiracy charge will float since they were not involved in the actual crime."

  “I guess I'd better mosey on down to the jailhouse and turn Delilah Delight loose."

  “Yeah. Look, Mark. Tell Shelly I'm on my way. While we were in Dot, Bud and I ran by her house and picked up clothes for her to wear home. I have a flight out of here in thirty minutes. I'll be there in a couple of hours."

  “I'll see if I can scare up some sort of transportation for Shelly."

  “No need. There's a flight out of Myrtle at nine tonight. I booked seats for Shelly and me. Bud will meet us at the airport in Charlotte and give Shelly a lift to Dot."

  “Hold on. You're going back to Charlotte tonight?"

  “Yeah. Tell the chief that I have two weeks of vacation coming."

  “You're going to spend it in Dot?"

  She chuckled and smiled at Bud. “I found something interesting up this way I want to check out."

  Chapter Nineteen

  Cranfield eased his car up the driveway and parked in front of Shelly's house.

  “Detectives,” Shelly said from the back seat, “I can't thank you enough for your kindness in providing me with a lift home.” Home, she thought. It really is my home, but for how long?

  “Glad to do it,” Cranfield said, unsnapping his seat belt.

  Shelly opened the back door. “You don't need to get out, Detective,” she said, looking at the dark house. “I can manage.” She laughed. “It's not as if I have a lot to luggage to carry inside."

  “The place has been empty for over a week, Shelly,” Lacy said, opening her door. “We'll just check everything out for you quickly. You don't need any more grief right now."

  As the trio approached the front porch, Cranfield asked for the house key. He opened the door, reached for the switch and, as the room flooded with light, Shelly gasped.

  A chorus of “surprise” from a room full of people ended the silence. A sleepy little golden-haired girl leaped into Shelly's outstretched arms. A hastily scrawled “Welcome Home” banner stretched across the back of the living room.

  “Welcome home, Shelly!"

  “We knocked the dust off of everything!"

  “The kitchen is so full of goodies you won't have to cook for a month!"

  “Sam's is so much better!"

  “I missed you, mommy!"

  “I had the window on your Escort fixed, Shelly!"

  “If there's anything we can do, just let us know."

  “I will pick Annie up in the morning at eight. She can spend the day fishing with Junior while you visit Sam!"

  “I put the mail on the desk in the other room. Looks like it's mostly bills and advertisements."

  “I love you, mommy."

  Shelly was overwhelmed. Sam has so many friends. What must they think of me?

  “Instead of an exotic club, what do you think of a comedy club with family oriented routines?"

  People were hugging her, kissing her, patting her on the back. What kind of people are they? Don't they know what I did? Don't they read the newspapers? Don't they watch the news on television?

  “Let me take the little one. She's fast asleep."

  “You look exhausted Shelly. We are going to clear out of here and let you get a good night's sleep in your own bed."

  Suddenly, only three well-wishers remained in the room.

  “Would you like for me to spend the night with you Shelly? I can sleep on the couch."

  Shelly looked through moist eyes at the blurred image of Lacy Spencer. “Thank you, Detective, but I'll be fine."

  “Then Bud and I are going to get out of your hair. Shelly, I'm sorry."

  “About what?"

  “That things in your life took such a nasty turn and that I was a part of it."

  Shelly wrapped her arms around Lacy. “But you stuck with me."

  “No,” Lacy said. “It was Detective Cranfield who cracked the case."

  “Along with considerable help from Borders, Leora and Sandra Dollar. It was Leora who never lost faith in your innocence,” Cranfield explained.

  Shelly closed the door behind the detectives and turned back to the festive living room. Mack McGee was gently picking Annie up from the sofa. He smiled and whispered, “Show me Annie's bedroom."

  Shelly nodded and said, “I want her to sleep in bed with me tonight."

  Mack climbed the stairs and, after Shelly turned back the sheet and coverlet, eased Annie onto the mattress.

  “Preacher,” Shelly said as they looked at the sleeping child. “Why?"

  “Why what, Shelly?"

  “Why did all these people turn out tonight to greet me, to welcome me home? Surely they know what an evil thing I did."

  Mack put his arm around her. “You need to come to church more often, Shelly. I have a pet sermon that I revise and preach at least once a month. The bottom line is that I don't believe there are any bad people—just people who make bad choices."

  “Can people who have made as many bad choices as I have suddenly begin to make good choices?"

  He smiled warmly. “Jesus spent his ministry urging people to repent. Do you know the literal meaning of the word, Shelly?"

  “I think it means to be very sorry for all the evil you've done."

  “That may be a part of it, but the literal meaning is, ‘turn around and go in the opposite direction.’ Yes, Shelly, we can begin to make good choices. We'll still slip up sometimes. The trick is to keep on trying."

  “I am trying, Preacher."

  “I know you are, Shelly, and so do all your neighbors who gathered here tonight."

  * * * *

  Lacy snapped on the seat belt, placed her hand on Bud's thigh and said, “Home, James."

  He smiled and turned the ignition key. �
�Before we get there, I need to make a couple of excuses."

  “Advanced apologies? For what?"

  He laughed. “I am delighted you accepted my invitation to bunk at my place, Lacy, but I wasn't expecting company. I'm afraid my little house is a mess and I didn't have time to clean it up."

  “I imagine most bachelors have messy homes."

  “I did run by the grocery store, so we won't starve, and I also bought some new sheets."

  “Why did you do that?"

  He chuckled. “I use the guest bedroom as a storage room. It may take us an hour just to find the bed. I've lived there for fifteen years, but no one has ever used the guestroom. The sheets on that bed haven't been changed since I bought the place and, uh, I haven't done laundry for a while."

  “I can sleep on the sofa."

  “It's not very comfortable."

  “I'll bet your bed is comfortable."

  “Yeah. That's what we'll do. I'll sleep on the sofa tonight and we'll fix up the guest room tomorrow."

  “There is another possibility."

  He held his breath.

  “We could both sleep in your comfortable bed."

  He swallowed hard. “There's nothing I'd like better.” He felt her fingers press deeply into his thigh. “Lacy, I, uh, I think we'd better try to find a pharmacy open. I don't have any..."

  “Yeah, that's a good idea."

  “Uh, Lacy?"

  “Yes, Bud?"

  “I, uh, I don't have much experience along these lines."

  She looked at him for a long moment before replying. “How old are you, Bud?"

  “Too old for you,” he answered dejectedly. “Fifty-one."

  “I'm thirty-five.” She giggled.

  “What's funny?"

  “When we find that pharmacy, I think we need to check the magazine rack to see if they stock a how-to manual."

  “You mean..."

  “We're two middle-aged virgins, Bud."

  “Damn."

  “Bud, how many condoms are in a box?"

  “I don't know—a dozen I guess."

  “Better buy several boxes,” she said.

  He glanced at her twinkling eyes.

  “They say practice makes perfect."

  * * * *

  Shelly woke with the first glimmer of sunshine filtering through the bedroom window. For thirty minutes, she propped on her elbow, gently running fingers through Annie's fine, golden locks. I missed you baby, but mommy may have to go away again. Papa Sam loves you dearly, but he may no longer be interested in me.