The Color of Sin

by Paul Westwood

  Chapter 9

  It was late morning by the time I dragged myself out of bed. I showered and dressed, choosing a clean white shirt and a lightweight gray suit. I wore no tie. I was packing up when there was a knock on the door. I went and answered it. It was Pauline. She was dressed in a white summer dress decorated with a light imprint of flowers. It looked quite nice and I told her so. She looked fresh and rested and ready to go. I felt tired and hungover; minus the fond memory of drinking.

  I packed the car, but let her drive. After dropping of the keys at the motel office, we hit the highway but only drove for a short distance before stopping for a late breakfast at a truck stop. After that it was a straight shot to Vegas. I spent my time dozing, trying to ignore the obnoxious music seeping out of the speakers. By the time noon rolled around, I was ready to face the world again.

  Pulling the cellphone out of the breast pocket of my suit, I scrolled through my list of contacts until I found the name I was looking for. I dialed. After four rings, someone answered.

  “Good afternoon, this is Ray.” The voice was nasal and irritating, but Ray Diaz had deep ties with the Vegas jewelry business, which also included the trade of precious metals.

  “Devon Pierce here. I was wondering if you could help me out.”

  “Hey, Dev! It’s been a long time. What have you been up to?”

  I looked over at Pauline. “Oh, just a little babysitting, and a few other things.”

  “I can only imagine the type of babe you’ve got.” He laughed at his own joke. “What can I do for you?”

  “This is just between you and me, but I have some questions about the sale of gold.”

  “Go ahead, I’m your man.”

  “Let’s say I came across some gold with no history, or even some bars without markings. How hard would it be to sell them?”

  “The gold market is largely unregulated,” Diaz replied. “Provided you aren’t trying to sell millions of dollars of the stuff, it would be quite easy to find a buyer. The gold bugs are going crazy thinking that the end of the world is coming, so they are buying everything that they can. Maybe they are right, and maybe they are wrong, but it’s been great for business. Personally, if I was in that situation, and wanted to keep the government snoops away, I would sell small portions at a time. Why, do you have some product to move?”

  “No, but I’m inquiring about someone named Keith Miller who may have recently sold some gold bars. The product would have been fairly thin and not too long; created using primitive methods. I’m trying to get a line on the location of this seller.”

  “That sounds like a rather unique product, I’m sure someone will remember something about that kind of transaction. I’ll call some of my friends and ask around.”

  “That would be much appreciated. Just send me a bill for your time.”

  “Ha! This is one is on the house, Dev, provided you set me up with one of Melodie’s friends.”

  “I’ll see what I can do. And thanks again.“ I hung up the phone.

  “Who was that?” Pauline asked, her eyes locked on the highway.

  “Just a friend of mine. Look, I hate to ask you this, but I need to know more about Keith. We’ve kept clear of talking much about him since I feared you wouldn’t be up to the task. I thought we had some more time. But things have changed. I got a phone call after we returned to the hotel. The woman I’m working for, Cleora, was brutally attacked last night. I think it was Keith who did it. She is in a coma right now and may not live.”

  From my vantage point in the passenger seat, I could see Pauline press her lips together. She didn’t say anything, but her already pale skin became even whiter. The car dropped in speed. For a moment I thought she was going to pull over, but I saw her jaw tighten as if she was gathering some inner strength from somewhere deep inside. We began to accelerate back to normal again.

  She said, “Keith made me do some terrible things, or acts that were terrible in hindsight. At the time I may have enjoyed them. I don’t want to admit that to anyone, not even myself. You see I was addicted to him, thinking that he was everything I needed to live. Now I know that he was brainwashing me, making me dependent on him. And after Keith left, he expected me to fall apart. And I would have if you hadn’t come along. I like to tell myself that I’m stronger than that, but I really was teetering on the edge of sanity.”

  “It’s okay,” I said. “I’ve had friends who’ve been on the edge of the abyss. They were taken over by their own personal demons: drugs, alcohol, or loneliness. Some can walk away and start a new life, while others take the plunge and never come back. They spiral out of control and either die or go insane. You’ve been lucky enough to be given a second chance. Take it and don’t let the past consume you.”

  “I never knew you were a psychiatrist,” she said sarcastically.

  “It’s all part of the service. But why are you telling me all of this?”

  She gave a quick glance in my direction before returning her attention to driving. Between gritted teeth she said, “I don’t want to depend on anyone anymore. At least that’s what I keep telling myself. But I’ve grown dependent on you. I love you and don’t want you to think that I’m some horrible woman because of what I did with Keith. Those stories will come out someday soon, and once you hear them, I fear that you won’t want me. And now that I’ve made a little fool of myself, you can start laughing.”

  “I’m not laughing now, nor will I laugh at you in the future.”

  “Fair enough, but I noticed you didn’t say that you love me.”

  I saw the color of red anger flushing the paleness of her cheek. I said carefully, “I’ve just got over another woman. I’m fond of you and want to be your friend, but I’m not ready to discuss love. I don’t want to make any promises, not until things have had a chance to settle down. Right now it would feel like I’m taking advantage of you.”

  “Fair enough,” she said again, but the bitterness was gone from her voice.

  “We’ve gotten off track,” I said. “I need to find Keith. Do you have any idea where he could be hiding?”

  “No.”

  “If he did attack my friend Cleora, then there is a great chance that he could be skipping town, if he hasn’t already. If she comes out of that coma and starts talking to the police, he’ll want to leave before that happens.”

  She shook he head, this time only mouthing her negative response.

  We fell into an uneasy silence. I was disappointed in her, but also understood that just the mention of Keith was enough to send Pauline into a state. I would have to hope that Diaz would pull through for me, and that Keith had been foolish enough to use his own name and identification when selling the gold. If he was half the con man I thought he was, then a fake driver’s license would have been the smarter move. Only time would tell.

  However, to my surprise, Pauline began to speak. The words were so low that I could just make them out over the hush of the air conditioning and the rumble of the tires against the concrete.

  With a tortured voice she said, “Keith spent most of his time at my place, watching movies until he thought it was time to go out at night. Until then he would drink and he would smoke some nasty cigarettes. When he felt like it, he would screw me. I was expected to buy the beer, get takeout food, and see that I did whatever he asked. I lived like a slave. We spent most of our time outside the condo going to the casinos. Sometimes Keith would disappear for a day or two, never telling me when he would be coming back. During those times, I continued to drink and sleep, trying to recover from the abuses that I received from him. I wanted to die, but yet I thought suicide would have disappointed him – strange as that sounds.

  “But there was one time that Keith brought me along with him. It was dark out and by that time I was so drunk that I blacked out during the trip in his car. When he shook me awake, we were at a big lake, the lights of the nearby boat
s reflecting off the water. There was a boat there – a house boat, I believe – that we went to. It was white and big with rows of windows. When I got inside, I saw that this was the place he lived at – his clothes were all over the floor of the bedroom and the kitchen was a mess. We spent the night there.

  “The next day he ordered me to clean the place up. I washed clothes, folded laundry, vacuumed, and cleaned the kitchen. For my reward, I got to sit on the back of the boat and do some swimming too. I saw we were at some kind of marina. At the time I really didn’t care where it was. I was too busy pouring the drinks down my throat. We went back to my place that evening. I don’t think Keith really wanted me to know where he lived, but was just too lazy to clean up his own mess. We never went back there again.”

  I said, “You had to be on Lake Mead. It’s an artificial body of water that was created by the Hoover Dam. Do you remember the name of the marina?”

  “Dev, I didn’t even know what day it was.”

  “The lake has over a hundred miles of coastline and a half dozen major marinas. He could be tied up at someone’s private slip, or even over in Arizona. That means I will have plenty of ground to cover.” I had a thought. “You didn’t see the name of the boat on the stern, did you?”

  “It was called the Double Date.”

  I gave a chuckle. “That sounds real classy. It will make the job easier though. I can call around and see where it is currently tied up.”

  Pauline drove the rest of the way to Las Vegas. Instead of heading back to my apartment, we went to the hospital. She stayed in the car while I went inside. After visiting information, I took the elevator up to third floor and went off to find Cleora. There is something distasteful about hospitals: it’s the lingering smell of death covered up by disinfectants and the memories of countless suffering. The doctors in their white coats had all the personality of accountants, measuring coldly who would live and who would die. It was a nasty place that I preferred to stay far away from.

  I found Cleora’s room. I knocked on the door and went inside since there was no answer. She was lying in a bed, her body and face hidden by a maze of tubes and wires. Only her long blonde hair was visible, covering the pillow like a golden shroud. Shoved up against the wall, a row of machinery beeped and wheezed away, keeping her alive like some science experiment gone horribly wrong. I fought the urge to tear away the equipment and snuff that fragile life. It wasn’t out of cruelty, but mercy. It hurt to see someone damaged so. Instead I sat down on the chair, found her hand and held it. Cleora’s eyes were closed shut by black and red bruised puffiness. A ventilator mask covered her nose and mouth, but through the clear plastic I could see more bruising and torn skin. She looked ever so pale, as if the Grim Reaper had already visited.

  “I’m sorry,” I said to the body on the edge of death.

  I sat there for a few moments, feeling the rage course through my veins until the anger turned into a hard diamond. I was going to get Keith and make him pay. He had already tried to kill two women; if there was third out there, then perhaps the next time he would be successful. I couldn’t let that happen.

  After one final squeeze of her hand, I let go. I left the room. The hallways outside were a blur of activity – doctors, nurses, and patients – that flowed past me like water. I went back to the car and got inside.

  “Are you okay?” Pauline asked.

  “No, I’m not.”

  “I understand,” was all the she said.

  She started up the car and joined the rush of traffic outside. She drove to my building and into the parking garage. I got out and took the luggage from the trunk. We took the elevator up. When I opened the door to my apartment, I felt a sense of relief to be back in my place. I immediately went to the stereo and turned it on. I pulled a record out from the collection, selecting Asylum Party’s first album to spin on the turntable. I then settled down into the sofa to listen.

  Pauline had disappeared into the bedroom with the luggage. By the time I was flipping the record over to the second side, she came out to sit down on the sofa. I turned the volume down to a more suitable level for conversation and went to join her. She put her arm around my shoulder, coaxing me to put my head in her lap. I rested on my side. She rubbed the back of my head and played with my hair. I felt the vestiges of my anger and sorrow begin to ebb away.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “There’s nothing to apologize for.”

  “I guess I don’t like hospitals.”

  “Nobody does.”

  I turned my head so I could look her in the eyes. They were kind, filled with concern. She leaned over and kissed me on the mouth. Her lips were warm. It felt as if a spell has been broken. I eagerly returned the kiss. Her response was one of hunger. I pushed myself up and wrapped my arms around her shoulders. We looked at each other, talking without words. I took her by the hand and led her to the bedroom.

  Pauline looked at the bed with a fleeting moment of panic. And then she pulled me down so we both fell on top of the covers. We explored each other’s bodies, gently touching and caressing. We had been together and knew each other, but now there was something new and wonderful here. I kissed and kissed her until my mouth felt bruised and my tongue was tired. But we kept on going, disappearing into the deep veil of pleasure that only happened in the very beginning of a romance. Her body was warm and inviting, and, after her dress and silk bra were removed, the flesh became hot to the touch. She helped me undress until I had nothing but my boxers on; laughing as she took off my socks. I rolled on top of her. Her hands dug into my back as she whispered into my ear, kissed my neck, and the arched her back so I could nestle my face between those beautiful breasts.

  But then Pauline unexpectedly pulled away, her eyes wide and staring past me. She was remembering Keith; some horrible memory that had interrupted our moment. Perhaps I had done something that reminded her of some particularly bad event. She twisted and turned from my grasp, and then, with her back turned, curled up into a ball as if trying to stop me from looking at her nakedness.

  “I can’t do this,” she sobbed.

  “What is it?” I asked, keeping my voice low and calm.

  “It’s Keith. I see you. Then I see him. I feel you. Then I feel him. I’m worthless! I’m dirty! No one will ever love me again.”

  Resting my head in the crook of my elbow, I began to trace slow, gentle circles along her back. Pauline shuddered, rebelling against my touch. But as I continued, she began to breathe easier.

  I said, “We don’t have to rush at anything. We have all the time in the world.”

  “But I love you. I wanted to show how much I love you. You seemed to be hurting bad inside so I thought that this would help.”

  “Trust me, it does.” I cinched her closer so that our bodies were spooned together. She snuggled in closer, taking my hands and wrapping my arms around her body. I kissed the back of her neck and smelled her hair. Our chests moved together, breathing as one. I thought of how hard this must be for her, trying to give in to the normal impulses but only to be overtaken by the memory of Keith. Whatever damage he had done ran deep, creating scars – both mental and physical – that would take a long time to heal. She had tried too soon.

  Pauline squirmed. At first I thought she was trying to get away from me. Instead she took my right hand and kissed the palm. And then she kissed the tip of my forefinger before running her tongue along the entire length. She repeated action on my middle finger, eventually working her way to my pinky. I said nothing, but instead let her go at her own pace. She turned over, stared into my eyes and kissed me on the mouth. Before removing her underwear, she reached down and slipped off my boxers. Then she pushed me on my back and clambered on top of me. Her body felt like fire. We made love until she was satiated and I was drained. Afterward we slept with her wrapped inside of my arms.

  When I woke up, my stomach
was growling. I gently extricated myself from the bed and went and showered. When I returned to the bedroom she was up, leaning against the headboard with a mound of pillows providing support. She still had nothing on. An odd look was playing on her face: half guilt and half satisfaction. In the end the latter won the battle.

  “Good evening,” she said.

  “Likewise,” I said in reply as I went into the walk-in closet and began digging through the closet. She had already laid claim to much of the space inside so it was more difficult to find the clothes I wanted. I selected a black t-shirt, a dark brown hooded sweatshirt with a zip and a pair of black jeans. The combination would provide the camouflage I would need for working at night but wouldn’t draw any comment for looking out of place. For shoes, I selected a pair of black steel-toed boots. This pair was well-beaten in and comfortable. Before wearing the sweatshirt, I retrieved the Colt pistol and harness from the luggage. I put the rig on.

  When I came out, Pauline was dressing. I watched as she did a reverse striptease for me. The finale – a dressed woman – was somewhat of a letdown compared to the starting point, but I wasn’t going to complain.

  “What would you like for dinner?” I asked when it was apparent that the show was over.

  “A big sloppy pepperoni pizza.”

  I made a face of disgust. “I’ll have to pass on that. How does chicken salad sound?”

  “I had no idea I was living with a monk.”

  I ignored the barb. “The makings are in the refrigerator.”

  “And now I’m the cook too?” she asked with a coy smile. It was obvious that a new level of confidence had been restored.

  “Any help would be much appreciated,” I replied with false subservience. “I was planning on making some phone calls.”

  “You go right ahead.”

  I went to the living room, stuck my cellphone on the charger, and began to make some calls to the marinas around Lake Mead. There were a few major ones on the Las Vegas side that were the obvious choice. Pretending to be a friend of Keith’s, I asked if the Double Date was moored in any of their available slips. The answer was always no. I then turned my attention to Arizona. Once again the results were negative.

  Frustrated, I put the phone down and went to the stereo. I put on a Handel harpsichord album and then went to the kitchen to watch as Pauline put the finishing touches to the meal. We ate at the countertop, reduced to small talk like an old married couple. It was a nice change compared to the tension of before. After the meal was done, I cleaned up and loaded the dishwasher. Pauline slinked off to the bedroom and returned a few minutes later. She was wearing a white bikini and had a towel in her hand.

  She said, “I’m going to head up to the roof and enjoy the evening. Did you have any luck finding that boat?”

  I shook my head. “No, so far it’s only a ghost ship. I was going to try the smaller marinas next. Lake Mead is a fairly popular spot with tourists and residents alike. He has to be somewhere.”

  “Okay. If you need anything, you know where I’ll be.” She headed toward the door.

  I got up, followed her, and switched off the alarm so she could pass through. I said, “If you can think of anything else, any kind of memory about the location of the boat, please let me know.”

  “I’ll try,” she said uncertainly. And then she went out the door and up the stairs.

  Returning to the cellphone, I called a few more marinas and came up empty-handed. I was running out of ideas and possibly out of time. Keith had been lucky so far, having brutalized one and nearly killing another. Soon that luck would run out and he would be nabbed by the police. But I wanted to get to him first or else the remnants of that treasure would be forever gone.

  I was about to make another phone call when the front door burst open. It was Pauline. The bathing suit was dripping wet and there was a trail of water. With excitement she said, “I remembered something about the location. I was lying out in the back of the boat trying to sleep. There was the sound of some boys playing nearby. I think they were sneaking around trying to get a better look at me. I stood up to yell at them and they ran away. I saw a shore was a sandy beach with a playground. There were a few families there, all kids playing in the water while the parents watched from beach chairs. Behind them was a building, perhaps a place to change clothes.”

  “Anything else?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think so. Though, now that I think about it, there were some cabins with cars parked next to them. It looked like a camp.”

  I gave this new information some thought. “It sounds like a resort, a place where you could rent a boat or a cottage for the night. That will simplify things.”

  Pauline beamed at me, happy to be of service. She blew me a kiss and scampered back upstairs.

  I had no success at first but a few phone calls later and I was talking to Mr. Greer of The Sandy Hill Resort.

  “I’m looking for a boat called the Double Date. I was supposed to meet my friend there tonight but he was never too clear about where he was staying. Is he there?”

  “You’re a friend of Mr. Miller?” the voice on the other end asked. He didn’t seem too impressed by that piece of information.

  “Not really,” I said, trying to sound official. “I’m working for a debt collection agency. We’ve been trying to track down Keith Miller for some time.”

  “Is that so?” There was spark of enthusiasm. “Well then, don’t mention my name, but I’ll tell you where he is alright. The Double Date is in slip F-14. I hope you get him and get him good.”

  “Not a popular man?” I guessed.

  “Let’s just say that he’s made more enemies than friends. He keeps everyone else awake with his parties, and the women on board don’t seem to keep their clothes on. There have been quite a number of complaints.”

  “Why don’t you kick him out then?”

  The voice on the other end of the line faltered. “W-w-why he threatened me, said he would beat me up if I went to the police. One look at him and you would believe it. I think he’ll go away in a few days. At least that’s what I’m hoping.”

  “If you don’t mind, please don’t mention to him that I called. I would like this to be a surprise.”

  “You’re a better man than me if you want to mess with him. Don’t worry, I won’t say a thing.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Greer.”

  I hung up the phone. I could feel myself smiling.