Greg Tenorly Suspense Series Boxed Set

by Robert Burton Robinson

  But now the original plot would never make it into the book. Real life had given him better ideas.

  He typed the last word of the chapter and clicked ‘Publish.’ Let’s see how they like this one, he thought. Some of his readers had already signed up for instant email notification. So, it wouldn’t be long before they’d be reading about the girlfriend’s terrible demise.

  He minimized the web page and went back to the Marshall News Messenger site. He stared at the picture, ignoring the man standing next to her. The beautiful redhead had been the unknowing object of his nightly pleasures throughout his junior and senior high school years.

  He’d been much too shy to approach her—even after being crowned the big football hero of the game against their archrival, Longview. His incredible last-second catch in the end zone had won the game. And his Marshall Mavericks had gone on to be Bi-District Champions that year.

  But Larry was no longer shy. He was a man of considerable wisdom, charm, and wealth. Actually, not so much wealth currently. He had $35,000 in an account his girlfriend was never aware of. She had spent all the rest.

  But he was not overly concerned about his dwindling fortune. The inheritance and his lottery winnings had kept him afloat so far. Maybe he would start playing the lottery again, he thought. Larry had been kind enough to refrain from buying tickets so other people could win. But he didn’t care about being rich anyway. A million or two was all he needed.

  Erin was gone, but the $65,000 convertible was not. And it could not be sitting in front of his cabin the next morning for Jim to gawk at.

  Cool car. Belong to the Mrs.? When can we meet her? Why don’t y’all come join us for dinner tonight?

  Larry clicked back over to see if any readers had commented on his latest chapter posting. Yes—there were already three comments praising his work. The one from the guy in Sidney, Australia was his favorite.

  Your characters practically leap off the page. I’m an avid mystery reader, but have never before read anything sounding so real, so genuine. The killer is creepy, brutal and sick. I love it! Hurry up and post the next chapter—please!

  He read it aloud, over and over. Yes! Soon agents would be begging to represent him.

  **********

  Sandy slid his chair back and stood up. “Could I have your attention, everyone?” After polishing off several baskets of bread and a couple of huge plates of spaghetti, Sandy was ready to make his speech.

  Greg and Cynthia were sitting directly across from him.

  Beverly, the pastor and his wife, the organist, the flower girl and her mother stopped talking and looked at Sandy.

  “In my capacity as Best Man, I feel I need to say a few words about the groom.”

  Uh-oh, thought Greg.

  Cynthia was interested in learning more about her future husband. And she knew Sandy probably had some funny stories from their college days.

  “As most of you know, Greg and I were roommates in college. We were both music majors. And I remember the day we met as freshman. I was thrilled to meet him because I thinking, ‘this guy is even nerdier than me.’”

  Everyone laughed.

  “Gee, thanks, Sandy,” said Greg, grinning.

  “And one of the most memorable conversations we had that first year was about sex.”

  The mother of the flower girl suddenly jumped up and took her young daughter to the restroom.

  “But I don’t need to go, Mommy.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  Sandy went on. “So, Greg was telling me about when he was 13 and started having feelings for girls…”

  Cynthia smiled at Greg—imagining how cute he must have looked as a 13 year-old.

  Greg blushed. Not because of what Sandy had just said, but because of what might be coming.

  “He had very special feelings for one particular classmate named Cindy. And back then he didn’t know squat about sex. But he spent a lot of time thinking about her—especially at night. He’d think about touching her and holding her and kissing her and then—he’d sneeze. He explained how the excitement would build, poco a poco, to a grand fortissimo. Oops, sorry. There I go—talking in music notation. Let me translate. In English it means—well, in English it means he had a big ole—”

  “—Sandy!” Greg couldn’t even bring himself to look down at the end of the table where Dr. Huff was sitting.

  “And when Greg told me that, it made me think. A really good sneeze is a lot like…” he saw the look on Greg’s face, “…you know. It starts off with a little tickle in your nose. Then it gets stronger and stronger, and everything inside your head starts to buzz and finally, when you can’t stand it any longer—Bam! And then you go ‘Aah.’”

  “That’s more than enough, Sandy,” said Greg.

  But Sandy was not quite finished. “So, you see, Cynthia. The teenage Greg was a pure young man. He wasn’t having any sex.”

  “Okay,” said Cynthia, hoping Sandy would stop.

  “No, he wasn’t having any sex. He was just sneezing his brains out.”

  “Thank you so much, Sandy,” said Greg. “Now, be a good best man and know when to shut up.”

  “But I’ve got another great story. Remember when you lost your balance on the risers and fell on top of two of the altos? One of them wanted to date you after that. Remember?”

  Sandy could see Greg was getting seriously annoyed.

  “Okay. I’m done. Anyway—he’s a great guy. Congrats, Cynthia.”

  **********

  Larry decided to drive Erin’s BMW down to Sherman, leave it in a parking lot, and take a taxi back to Denison. From there it would take a couple of hours to walk to the cabin.

  He would tell the police she came to visit him, they argued, and she decided to go home.

  He grabbed a flashlight, a pair of cheap garden gloves, and Erin’s purse, and walked out the door and locked it. As soon as he got into her shiny new convertible, he raised the top and began to manipulate the buttons to adjust the electric seat. He was tall, but Erin was a mere 5’1”. Or, that’s what she used to be, he thought. Now she’s 0’0”. Ashes aren’t very tall. He laughed to himself. How witty he was.

  After the driver’s seat had moved as far as it would go, he used his foot to lift his butt and move himself further back against the seat. But the heel of his shoe slipped on something. Yuck, he thought—a slimy frog must have hopped into the car while the top was down.

  He shined the flashlight on the floorboard. Disgusting. It was a used condom. He wondered how much bribe money it would take to discover the owner of the gooey DNA.

  Why had he let Erin use him for so long? She thought she could get away with anything—just because she had a hot body. How appropriate that it had finally gone up in flames. He chuckled softly.

  Erin had been alive and well earlier in the evening, thinking she could treat him like dirt, as she always did. But this time it was different. Because Larry had learned a valuable lesson: that he could accomplish anything he had the will to do.

  So, he willed that she no longer exist.

  And his will was done.

  5 - FAN MAIL

  Cynthia stripped to her underwear and turned on the shower. She liked to let it run a couple of minutes and get nice and steamy before getting in.

  She walked back into her bedroom. Soon to be their bedroom, she thought, smiling. She sat down at the small table and bumped the mouse, bringing her laptop back to life.

  “Come on now, weatherman…give me a bright, sunny wedding day.” The weather had been looking iffy for Saturday.

  There was still no change—partly cloudy with a chance of showers.

  It had rained on her first wedding day. Looking back, it seemed like an omen predicting a bad marriage. So, she felt a great weather day would mean a great marriage. Silly, she knew—but she really wanted a sunny day.

  She thought the shower should be about right, and started to get up when she noticed she had an unread email. She didn’t recognize
the ‘from address,’ but opened it anyway.

  Your beautiful smile, your silky red hair,

  At the edge of the field, you were always there.

  Rooting me on to unimaginable glory,

  Inspiring my heart in a hero’s story.

  But now I’m alone and longing for you,

  So, flip up your skirt like you used to do.

  Jump into the air and I’ll catch my hottie;

  I’ll rip off your clothes and have sex with your body.

  “Yuk!”

  She deleted the email. Who would send her something like that? This one was even worse than the others. It sounded like the poem was referring to her being on the sidelines of a football game. She had been a cheerleader in both high school and college.

  And apparently the writer considered himself some kind of a hero. Whoever it was, they were no hero to her—at least, not any more.

  Cynthia slipped off her bra and panties and stepped into the steamy shower. She would forget about the weird poem. He might even have the wrong email address. Maybe his messages were intended for some other woman—or even for a teenage girl. Yes, that was probably it. Now, it made sense to her. It was just some horny teenage boy sending his sex poems to the wrong email address.

  As she rubbed the slippery bar of soap across her body, she thought about the honeymoon and how much she loved Greg. Making love to him would be so amazing.

  **********

  “You come here every night, don’t you?” Sandy grinned at his old buddy.

  “Yep.”

  Greg’s red 1965 Pontiac Bonneville was the only car in the back of Dairy Queen’s parking lot.

  “Why don’t you put the top down so we can look at the stars? Isn’t that what you usually do when you bring Cynthia here?”

  “Only when it’s warm out. But either way, it’s nice.”

  “I’ll bet. But what does she think about your obsession with dipped cones?”

  “I wouldn’t call it an obsession.”

  “So, you don’t eat them as often as you did back in college?”

  “No. I eat them more often.”

  Sandy laughed.

  “But it’s not an obsession. More of an addiction.”

  “Well, I’ve never said anything, but I’ve always thought the whole concept was crazy. You put some ice cream in a cone, which you need to eat before it melts—‘cause otherwise it’s a shake, not a cone. You turn it upside down and hope the ice cream doesn’t fall out. Then you submerge the thing in hot fudge. The ice cream causes the fudge to get cold and hard, while the fudge starts melting the ice cream.”

  “That’s the beauty of it.” Greg took another nibble from the top of the hard shell.

  “And as soon as you take a couple of bites, the chocolate shell cracks and falls in your lap.”

  “Not if you’re good.”

  “And you know it must have been a man who invented them. Or a woman with no kids. Because no mother would create something that she knew would lead to little Johnny coming home with black chocolate smeared all over his new shirt and pants.”

  “Well, just because little Johnny isn’t man enough to handle one doesn’t mean I shouldn’t—“

  The chocolate shell broke apart and slid off Greg’s cone.

  “The only difference between you and Johnny is those napkins spread across your lap. Because you know it’s coming.”

  Greg began to pick up each chunk and eat it.

  Sandy took a bite of his banana split. “I’ve got to congratulate you again, Man. Cynthia is hot.”

  “Easy—that’s my bride you’re talking about.”

  “I’ll bet y’all have been going at it like rabbits.”

  “Well, not that it’s any of your business, but we’re waiting until we get married.”

  “You’re kidding me.”

  “Nope. We made the commitment and we’ve stuck to it.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, for one thing, we know that morally it’s the right thing to do.”

  “Sure. But that’s never stopped me.”

  “And we’ve both lived through rough marriages and we just want to make sure neither of us gets hurt. You know—in case things didn’t work out.”

  “Big deal. My marriage went south too, remember. But I’d rather take a chance on getting hurt. I don’t know how you’ve managed to wait.”

  “I’ll admit—it hasn’t been easy.”

  “You mean, it’s been hard.”

  “Yeah.” Then Greg noticed Sandy was grinning at him.

  “Yeah, I’ll bet it’s been real hard—every night.”

  “Well, sure. I am human. But, how about changing the subject?”

  “Okay.” Sandy spooned up another bite of ice cream, banana, and toppings. “You’re off from work tomorrow, right?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “We need to sleep in tomorrow morning so we can be rested up for your bachelor party.”

  “What bachelor party?”

  “I’m your best man, and I’m throwing you a bachelor party. So, get plenty of sleep tonight.”

  “Well, who’s coming to this party? You didn’t ask me for a guest list.”

  “That’s because it’s just gonna be you and me, Pal.”

  “Fine. We’ll come back here tomorrow night and have some more ice cream, and you can give me a gift, if you like. And one of those silly paper hats.”

  “Hey—don’t be telling me how to plan the party. You’re the guest of honor, but I’m running the show. So, just wait and be surprised.”

  **********

  Candy watched the bearded man drive his silver BMW into the convenience store parking lot and pull around to the side, near the back corner of the building. There were plenty of open slots in the front, so she figured the guy was there for something other than a bag of chips and a coke.

  A chilly breeze blew up her mini-skirt and she shivered. She pressed her legs together tightly to generate some heat. The knee-high boots protected her feet and calves, but her butt was freezing off.

  She wrote down the license number as she circled around to the side of the expensive vehicle. He’ll have a big wad of cash, she thought.

  Larry Luzor had just stepped out of the car, when she said, “Nice car, Honey.”

  “Uh, thanks.”

  “I’m Candy. You got a sweet tooth tonight?”

  He gave her the once over. Her black hair framed a pretty, young-looking face. The low-cut blouse left little to the imagination, barely hiding her nipples. She was average height, but the high heel boots elevated her to about 5’8”. The long legs were very nice.

  Larry had never used a prostitute. He’d always thought of it as revolting. The idea of having sex with a woman who’d been with hundreds of men did not appeal to him.

  But this didn’t seem like a typical hooker. She seemed too clean—almost pure. But of course, she wasn’t. He knew she had to be just as skanky as the rest of them. Still—if he hadn’t been in the middle of something important he might have been more than willing to buy what she was selling.

  “So, what do you say? Want to get it on?” She smiled seductively.

  He was impressed that she had all her teeth, and that they looked white.

  “How can I resist?” He grinned at her and winked.

  Yes, he would go with her. But not for the reason she thought. He had seen her in his rear view mirror, writing down his license number. And he knew that by morning the store owner would realize the BMW had been abandoned. The police would be called in. And when they contacted Larry, he would tell them his wife left the cabin last night and he had not seen or heard from her since.

  So, the police would think Erin had been abducted from the parking lot. They wouldn’t think Larry had anything to do with her disappearance.

  But if Candy talked to the police, his plan would begin to unravel. She would tell them she saw Larry getting out of the car. And had a conversation with him. They would gather DNA evide
nce from the car and the cabin. And the barbecue pit.

  So, he would go to the motel with Candy. And he might even let her earn some money.

  But she’d never get a chance to spend it.

  6 - HOT CANDY

  Candy opened her box-shaped purse, pulled out the key, and unlocked the door.

  Larry had been concerned that they would have to walk through a lobby of prying eyes. How foolish of him to think such a thing. These professionals knew what they were doing. The room was accessible from the parking lot, at the rear of the motel. He wondered how many men she had already brought to this room tonight.

  She should have a business card, he thought. Just off the top of his head he could think of some great slogans.

  When you absolutely, positively have to get laid.

  I deliver for you.

  Push my easy button.

  Dinging dongs since 2002.

  She let him in, locked the door, and hooked the chain. Then she sat her plastic-looking purse on the dresser, flipped up the top, dropped the key in, pulled out a box of condoms and began to walk toward him.

  Larry guessed she was between 25 and 30. Whatever her age, he wanted her.

  Then he remembered he was still wearing his wedding ring. Well, it wasn’t really a wedding ring, since he and Erin never got married. But after they had been together for a year or so, she had suggested they get matching rings. And because he had worn it ever since, he would continue to wear it until Erin’s killer had been caught. Ha. He sounded like O. J.

  Why was he worried about what Candy thought, anyway? Hookers have sex with married men all the time.

  She moved in close, put her left arm around him as her right hand went down to his crotch.

  He got rock-hard immediately.

  “Feels like you’re ready to go.” Candy unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants as he unhooked the single button holding her blouse together. There was no bra to remove.