Greg Tenorly Suspense Series Boxed Set
Page 18
“But when the owner walked out of the store, and saw the skinny black kid on his motorcycle, he ordered Henry to get away from his bike. And he told him he’d never be able to afford a bike like his. And that he didn’t deserve one anyway. And then he told Henry, ‘If you ever come snooping around my bike again, I’m gonna teach you a lesson, boy.’
“That statement struck a raw nerve in Henry’s brain. It was the exact same words Harry’s killer had said right before stabbing him in the eye with a screwdriver. A rush of adrenalin instantly transformed him into a killing machine.
“He ran at the guy, full-out, and knocked him down. Then he sat on top of him, and proceeded to pound his face, until it was hammered into bloody mush. His brain bounced around in his skull like a ping-pong ball. He was dead before the ambulance showed up.”
Buford wished he hadn’t asked.
“So, see what you’ve done, Buford? See how many lives you’ve ruined? Just think about all the people who’ve died because of you, and all the friends and family members who’ve suffered, and a nice young man like Henry—that you turned into a killer. You really don’t deserve to live, do you?”
“I knew you were lying, Marty. I knew you came here to kill me.”
“No. You’re wrong. Because of Henry, and how he turned his life around, I finally did start going to chapel. And I made my heart right with God.”
“Yeah, right. And then as soon as you got out of prison, you started murdering again.”
“I know. I broke my vow to God. But after I survived John X, I started praying to God again. I confessed my sins. And he’s giving me a second chance. I won’t blow it this time. No more murders.”
“So, you’re going to just walk out of here, and let me go on with my life?”
“That was my plan all along. Oh, and you can have this.” Marty stood, and tossed Sam’s envelope onto Buford’s desk.
Buford couldn’t believe it. He snatched up the envelope, and pulled out the two sheets of paper.
They were blank.
“What is this? Where’s the letter?”
“I mailed it to Angela Hammerly. She should get it today.”
“No! I’ll be ruined!”
“That’s the idea, Buford.” Marty smiled. It had all been worth it. Just to see the hopeless look on Buford’s face. “So, see—I don’t need to kill you. Besides, if I have a change of heart, I could come back later, and pop you any time I want.”
Marty turned, and walked toward the door.
Buford quickly and quietly opened the top right drawer and grabbed the pistol. He pointed it at Marty’s back and squeezed the trigger. But it didn’t fire—it just clicked!
“Oh, Buford. You’re so predictable. I told you I wasn’t gonna murder you today. This is self-defense.”
“But you unloaded my gu—”
Buford’s wife would find him, head rested comfortably against the back of his tall leather chair. At first, she might think he was just taking a quick power nap. Except for the bullet hole in the center of his forehead. And the blood leaking from it.
Too bad. Her ticket to fame and glory in Austin had been cancelled.
44 - NEW BEGINNING
It was Sunday, 1:20 PM. Greg Tenorly felt almost human again, after sleeping for twelve hours. It only took a couple of knocks to get a response.
“Just a minute.”
He had dreamed about her all night long. Cynthia opened the door. She looked even more beautiful than in his dreams.
“Come on in. I’m almost ready.”
The last time he had been in her room at the Holiday Inn, they were just about to begin their big adventure.
“Did you sleep okay?” said Greg.
“Like a rock. And I woke up starved. Where are we eating?”
“Your choice.”
“I hope Dr. Huff understood about you missing church today.”
“Yeah, I’m sure he did. He knows I’ve had a rough week. We’ve had rough week. But it wasn’t all bad. I had a great time just being with you. You know, just talking and joking around. That part of it was fun.”
“Yeah, it was.” Cynthia seemed to be only half-listening, while finishing her eye makeup.
“And now I’m going to miss seeing you every day.”
Cynthia put down her makeup, and walked over to Greg. She stepped in close, and looked deeply into his eyes. By the time she spoke, his heart was pounding.
“You can still see me every day. If you want to.”
She leaned in closer, as her eyelids lowered. He leaned down, and gently touched his lips against hers, and realized he could never have prepared himself for the sensation that began to pulse through his entire body.
Instinctively, he draped his arms around her curvaceous body. Greg wondered if he was overstepping. Then he felt her hands sliding around to his back. Her mouth opened slightly. The tip of her tongue caressing his lips.
Cynthia still had a husband to bury. She didn’t know when she would be ready to start ‘officially’ dating again. But she did know who she would be dating. It would be the sweet, kind, loving, funny man she had gotten to know over the past week. His warm embrace felt like home.
**********
It was a perfect afternoon to spend on the lake—if you could stand the heat and humidity. And Marty could. He cut the engine, and his boat slowed to a standstill. What a great spot, he thought. And nobody else was around to disturb his joy of fishing.
He flipped open the cooler, dug to the very bottom, and pulled out an ice cold Budweiser. Here was a place where he could fish, and drink beer, and commune with God. But then he remembered he had a little business to take care of first.
He unzipped the duffle bag, and took out a pair gloves and put them on. Then he removed the gun and the suppressor from the bag. He carefully wiped them off with a rag one more time.
Then he lowered the two items into the water, and released them. With any luck, they would never be found. At least not in his lifetime.
“Buford, if you can hear me, wherever you are…” Marty took a sip from his beer. “…I wish I could say that your debt to society has been paid. But I’m afraid you’ve only paid one of your debts. But if the Good Lord would bring you back to life, I’d help you out with the rest of those debts.”
Marty took several more sips. “Really, Buford. I’d be more than happy to kill you over and over and over again. Whatever it took.”
Of course, Marty would only do this if God approved it. Because Marty had made a vow. And he would keep his vow.
This time.
THE END
BOOKS BY THE AUTHOR
Greg Tenorly Suspense Series
Bicycle Shop Murder
Hideaway Hospital Murders
Illusion of Luck
Fly the Rain
Ginger Lightley Short-Novel Mystery Series
Sweet Ginger Poison
Ginger Dead House
Rebecca Ranghorn Short-Novel Mystery Series
Naked Frame
Stand-alone books
22 Short Stories
Amateur Investigator (and nine other short stories)
Visit the author’s website
http://www.robertburtonrobinson.com
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS AND COPYRIGHT NOTICE
Special thanks to
Don Neuman & Lynda Robinson
The story in this book is a work of fiction. The characters and events described in this story are imaginary and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
BICYCLE SHOP MURDER
SECOND EBOOK EDITION
July 2012
Copyright © 2006 Robert Burton Robinson
Cover background image:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/mugley/
Hideaway Hospital Murders
1 - UNWANTED VISITOR
“It’s about to come on. Hurry.”
“I’m coming.”
Nurse Judy delivered Martha’s tray just in time. I
t was a frozen dinner, but Judy always transferred it to a fancy plate and prepared a small salad and a bowl of applesauce to go alongside it.
“Looks great, Judy. Now sit down and let’s eat.”
Nurse Judy sat down in the recliner next to Martha’s bed. The meal she made for herself was similar to Martha’s. “Didn’t we just see this one a few days ago?”
“I don’t remember. But you know it doesn’t matter. I love Jessica Fletcher.”
It was the only good thing about her failing memory. She could watch reruns of Murder She Wrote over and over again. They were all new to her.
The doorbell rang.
“Whoever it is, just get rid of them. It couldn’t be friends or family. They know better than to interrupt my show.”
Nurse Judy walked down the hallway to the front door. It was a nurse.
“May I help you?”
“The agency sent me.”
“No, there must be some mistake. I’ve been caring for Mrs. Mason for a couple of months now.”
“Oh, great. Why do they keep doing this to me? Mind if I come in and use the phone?”
“Don’t you have a cell phone?”
“Yeah, but it’s dead. I forgot to charge it last night.”
“I hate when I do that. Sure, come on in. What’s your name?”
“Carnie.”
“Good to meet you, Carnie. I’m Judy. You can use the house phone.”
Judy led her to the phone. Carnie picked up the receiver and began to dial. But as Judy turned to walk away, Carnie slammed the phone across the back of her head.
Nurse Judy collapsed to the floor, unconscious.
Martha’s blaring TV masked the noise.
Carnie scoured the living room, kitchen, and other rooms for valuables, but found none. Finally, she entered Martha’s bedroom. Martha was so engrossed in her show that she didn’t even look at the nurse when she came in.
“Who was that at the door?”
“It was me.”
“What?” Martha looked away from the TV. “Who are you?”
“I’m the person who’s not going to hurt you as long as you cooperate.”
Martha picked up the remote and muted the TV.
“What do you want?”
“Jewels, valuables—that kind of stuff.”
“I don’t have anything but costume jewelry.”
“Where’s your safe?”
“I don’t have a safe.”
Carnie walked out of the room.
Good, thought Martha. The young criminal would soon exit the back door.
But then she heard her rummaging around in the kitchen. Then silence. Carnie came back carrying a large butcher knife.
“Where’s the safe, Old Lady?”
“I told you I don’t have a safe. You’re just wasting your time here. I don’t have anything valuable. I’m poor. Can’t you see that?”
Carnie grabbed Martha’s right hand and flipped her arm over. Then she held the sharp blade against Martha’s wrist.
“Tell me, you old hag.”
Carnie only waited three seconds for a reply. When none came, she dragged the blade across Martha’s wrist and the blood began to leak out.
“Stop, stop! I’ll tell you.”
Carnie released her hand.
Martha clamped her wrist with her left hand to try to stop the bleeding.
“Where is it?”
“Behind that big mirror. You’ll need a screwdriver. There’s one in the—”
Carnie didn’t need a screwdriver. She kicked the mirror several times until it broke, jumping back as the pieces fell to the floor. “What’s the combination?”
Martha told her.
Carnie got the safe open and found some very nice pieces of jewelry, which she slid into her bag.
“So you like Murder She Wrote, huh? Yeah, it’s fun to solve the murders, isn’t it?” She walked back to Martha’s bed and picked up the knife she had dropped on the floor.
Martha was too scared to say a word. She just wanted this horrible woman to leave her house. She was afraid to think about what had happened to Nurse Judy.
Carnie held up the knife and turned it to reflect the light from the table lamp into Martha’s eyes, blinding her for a moment. “Yeah, it’s fun to be the one who solves the murders. But you know what’s even more fun? To be the murderer.”
Carnie grasped Martha’s forehead with her left hand and smashed it deep into the pillow as she thrust the knife in an upward motion through Martha’s abdomen, piercing her heart. She yanked out the knife and casually walked away, as the blood gushed out, forming red pools on each side of the dead woman’s body.
When Carnie walked into the living room, she saw Nurse Judy crawling to the front door.
Just as the nurse reached for the doorknob and tried to stand up, she felt a sharp pain in her back. She quickly lost strength and slumped down on the floor.
Carnie ripped the knife out of her back and kicked her body over.
Nurse Judy lay sprawled across the living room floor.
Carnie smiled at the nurse, as she sat down on top of her. She forced the knife into Judy’s chest slowly and repeatedly until she saw the pain leave her face, and the life go out of her eyes.
No witnesses, she thought. Just like Grandma taught her.
**********
It was their first official date. Greg Tenorly and Cynthia Blockerman had been through quite an ordeal together—being hunted by police for the murder of her abusive husband while they ran from the real killer.
But all that was behind them now. All charges against them had been dropped, and Cynthia’s husband had been buried. And the rumors would have died down eventually if they had gone their separate ways.
They could feel the stares as they walked to their table. Greg had requested the most private booth, way in the back. Coreyville Pasta House was the oldest Italian restaurant in town. And still the best. Mama Castilla had run the place for over thirty years. She had taken over for her grandfather in 1973. A sign on the wall said so.
Cynthia ordered the Fettuccine Alfredo. Greg went with his favorite, the Chicken Parmesan. Both ordered iced tea and salad. The bread and olive oil with roasted garlic and pepper came with every meal. Greg could not resist great bread. And this was the best. He tore off a chunk as soon as the waitress delivered it. Cynthia would wait for the salad.
“So we’re finally on a real date,” said Greg.
“Yeah. So how does it feel?”
“Kinda weird and scary and…wonderful.”
Cynthia smiled and Greg momentarily forgot all about the amazing aroma in the restaurant. All he wanted to do was kiss her. But that would have to wait. So, his hunger came rushing back.
Cynthia’s mood turned serious. “I don’t want to spoil our date, but I’ve got to tell you something.”
Greg wondered if he had done something wrong. He could fix it—whatever it was.
“I’ve asked Mom to move in with me.”
“Why? I thought she was happy living in Marshall.”
“She was.”
“What do you mean? What happened?”
“The other night a friend of hers was murdered. And the woman lived on her street. They killed her nurse too.”
“Was it a burglary? Did she have a lot of cash or jewelry in the house?”
“She had a safe. They took whatever was in it. So, yeah, she probably has something of value, but nobody knows what.”
“But why did they have to kill an old woman and a nurse? Why didn’t they just wear a mask and tie them up?”
“I don’t know. But now Mom’s afraid. And I don’t blame her.”
“Does she keep valuables in the house?”
“No. But somebody like that would probably kill you whether you had anything or not. It could even be a serial killer.”
“Yeah, I can see why she’s not happy there anymore.”
“Besides, if she lived with me I could spend a lot more time with
her.”
“I hope you two get along well.”
“Oh, we do. We never get on each other’s nerves.” Cynthia hoped this news would not scare Greg off. She was not ready to say the ‘L’ word out loud. She couldn’t even say it in her head. But it was already in her heart.
**********
Greg walked Cynthia to her front door.
“Greg, I had a wonderful time. And I can’t believe I’d never tried the Pasta House before. It was great.”
“Yeah, I love their food. But not half as much as I love being with you.” He would hold off on telling her he loved her. Although, what he had just said was dangerously close, he thought. He just didn’t want her to freak out.
Cynthia gave him a smile that turned him to mush as she moved in close, ready for contact.
As he lowered his head to give her a light kiss, he imagined her mother peeping through the window. How would they have any privacy if she moved in? But then the warmth of Cynthia’s lips began to melt his inhibitions, and made him forget all about her mother. He stepped in as he pulled her gently toward his body. That sent a million little turned-on messengers screaming to his brain all at once.
He would later realize that it wouldn’t matter who was watching while they were kissing. You don’t care about anything else in the world when you’re completely out of your mind with ecstasy.
Cynthia was like a drug. And Greg was already addicted.
2 - MEETING THE MOTHER
“Should I leave the top down or put it up?”
It was Saturday morning and Greg and Cynthia were getting into his red 1965 Pontiac Bonneville convertible.
“Leave it down. I want to show it off to Mom. I told her about it and she thought it sounded cool.”
“Really? She used the word cool?”
“Hey, she’s 67—not 97.”
“Sorry.”
“She was born in 1939. People said cool back then.”