Greg Tenorly Suspense Series Boxed Set

by Robert Burton Robinson

  “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you about it after the honeymoon. Y’all have a great time. I promise not to bother any more, Buddy.”

  “Wait. Cynthia’s not here.”

  “Well, maybe she went down the hall to get a candy bar or something.”

  “I don’t see any of her clothes. And her overnight is bag is gone.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  “What do you know about this, Sandy? Tell me what’s going on.”

  “It’s just a hunch, really. And it’s complicated. Just hang tough, Buddy. We’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

  “We? Who’s with you?”

  “Uh, her name is Rebecca. I met her tonight at the wedding.”

  Greg didn’t know any Rebeccas. “Okay…”

  “Another long story. See you soon.”

  “Okay. Bye.”

  Greg knew it had been too good to be true. He didn’t deserve Cynthia. She must have finally come to her senses.

  Then he remembered the anonymous call on the night of the wedding rehearsal.

  She’ll rip your heart out, Man.

  He sat on the edge of the bed, dizzy and heartbroken.

  **********

  Larry knew he couldn’t go back to his house in Plano or to the cabin on Lake Texoma. By now, the police might suspect his ex-wife had been murdered. If so, they would come around asking all kinds of questions. And he certainly didn’t want to be bothered—now that he was finally reunited with the true love of his life.

  He looked away from the road to see her pretty face in the moonlight. “You don’t know how long I’ve dreamed of this, Cynthia.”

  “What do you plan to do with me?”

  “What do you think?”

  She was afraid to answer.

  “Live happily ever after,” he said.

  “With a woman you abducted on her wedding night?”

  “I got there just in the nick of time. I saved you.”

  This guy is seriously deranged, thought Cynthia.

  “You made sweet love to me every night in high school.”

  “I never even went out with you.”

  “Every night you slipped into my bed and had sex with me. We did it over and over again—until we both passed out from exhaustion.”

  “Larry, you’ve got quite an imagination.”

  “Yes, I do. But I knew it would all come true one day. I knew you wanted me as much as I wanted you. I just needed to get up the nerve to ask you out.”

  “But you never did.”

  “No. And it’s my greatest regret. You were so cute in your little cheerleader outfit.”

  Then she realized. “You’re the one who sent me those weird emails.”

  He seemed hurt. “You thought they were weird? What about my poem? I wrote you a nice poem.”

  A creepy poem, she thought.

  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.

  “If you wanted to date me, why didn’t you just call me up? This is certainly not the way to a woman’s heart.”

  “I was afraid you would reject me.”

  You were so right, she thought.

  “But I knew this would work. I knew my luck would come through for me.”

  “You call this luck?”

  “Sure. I’ve always been lucky. That’s why they call me ‘Lucky Larry.’”

  “Wait. Now I remember. Everybody started calling you that after you made the big play in that game against the Lobos.”

  “That’s right! I won the game.”

  “And you were lucky to even be in the game, if I remember correctly. Coach hardly ever gave you any playing time.”

  “That’s right. If Coach hadn’t put me in for that last play we would have lost.”

  “But didn’t he have to put you in the game? A bunch of the players suddenly came down with diarrhea, didn’t they?”

  “I don’t remember…”

  “Yeah, that’s right. They said you brought brownies to the locker room. And all the players who ate them got sick. That wasn’t luck.”

  “I didn’t make them sick. That’s not true.”

  “Yeah. And you were wide open in the end zone because everybody knew you were a lousy player. But nobody else was open, and the clock had run out. So, Tony threw the ball to you, and it bounced off your helmet, and you fumbled around with it for while before you finally fell to the ground. That part was luck. The Longview coach claimed you didn’t have possession. But the ref said you did. There again—pretty lucky, I guess. Or did you poison the ref too?”

  “No, My Dear. You’re only half right. I was lucky to be put in the game. And coach was lucky he had the good sense to put me in the game. And, I’ll admit, I made a lucky catch. And that’s how I became ‘Lucky Larry.’ I wasn’t my fault seven players got sick that night.”

  Cynthia realized she was being foolish. It was not a good idea to argue with this wacko. He could blow off her hand with the push of a button.

  And clearly, he was crazy enough to do it.

  **********

  Greg had been sitting on the bed, staring at the wall ever since he hung up with Sandy.

  There was a knock at the door.

  He opened it and saw Sandy and some woman holding a briefcase.

  “Hey, Man. You okay?”

  Greg looked pitiful. “No.”

  Sandy gave him a big hug. “I’m sorry, Buddy.”

  “Come on in.”

  “This is Rebecca Ranghorn. I met her tonight at the reception and we just kinda hit it off.” He smiled at her.

  Rebecca shook Greg’s hand. “Glad to meet you.”

  She must be an old friend of Cynthia’s, thought Greg. “So, what’s going on, Sandy? What do you know about this?”

  “Well, Rebecca was on her way home when her car broke down. So, I gave her a ride. And she was telling me that she thought you and Cynthia might be in danger. It all sounded crazy, but it was bugging the heck out of me, so I called you.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t say something sooner,” said Rebecca. “But it was just a hunch. And you would have thought I was nuts.”

  Greg knew she was right.

  “My best friend was murdered Thursday night,” she said.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” said Greg.

  “Thanks. We were law partners. And I believe that the man who killed her is writing a book about it on the internet. And in the book, he talked about a redheaded woman he was obsessed with, and that she was getting married on Saturday.”

  Greg listened in disbelief.

  Rebecca went on. “So, I searched the web looking for all women who were getting married today in Texas who also happened to have red hair. The only one I found was Cynthia.”

  “Oh, no.”

  Sandy jumped in. “But the good news is that this guy will probably write about whatever he’s doing. So, we’re hoping the book will lead us right to him.”

  “Well, have you checked? Has he written anything else?”

  “We don’t know. But Rebecca has her laptop.”

  “Does this room have wireless?” she said.

  “I think so,” said Greg. He hadn’t cared. He had planned to spend all night making love to his wife—not browsing the web.

  Rebecca opened her case, took out the laptop, and turned it on.

  She went to the site and found Barry Undermine’s page.

  “No new chapters. Sorry.”

  “I’ll call the police,” said Greg. “And report her missing.” He took out his cell phone.

  “It’s too soon to file a missing persons report,” said Rebecca. “She could
have just changed her mind. You know—the old runaway bride scenario.”

  “But we know better,” said Greg. “We know this guy took her. You have proof in his book.”

  “Think about it, Greg,” said Sandy. “Think about how it’s going to sound to the police.”

  “We’ve got to find her ourselves,” said Rebecca. “Because the longer she’s gone, the less likely she’ll ever be found. And the more likely he’ll…”

  “You think he’ll kill her?” said Greg.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “But we know he’s already killed at least one person.” She saw the bouquet of red roses on the shelf and nodded at them. “Did you buy those?”

  Greg and Sandy turned around to see what Rebecca was looking at.

  “No,” said Greg. “I hadn’t even noticed them.” He hadn’t noticed anything about the room but the bed.

  Sandy walked to the bouquet and picked it up. “The card says, ‘to Greg and Cynthia,’ but it doesn’t say who it’s from.”

  Rebecca walked to where Sandy was standing and studied the flowers and the vase. She ran her fingers along the inside of the vase and found something. “Look at this.” She held up a tiny object.

  “What is it?” said Greg.

  “It’s a bug. That’s how he knew what you were doing.”

  “But how did he get Cynthia to go with him?” said Greg. “And why didn’t she scream?”

  “He probably had a gun pointed at her,” said Sandy.

  Greg couldn’t bear the thought of his precious baby in such danger.

  Rebecca walked back to her laptop. “All we can do is wait.”

  17 - COFFEE BREAK

  It was just after 1:30 AM on Sunday morning when Larry exited I-45 and pulled over at Bill’s 24-Hour Coffee Shop.

  Cynthia noticed the ‘Free Wireless’ neon sign in the window.

  “Hungry?” Larry sounded almost human, cordial.

  “No.”

  “Well, we’re going to be here for a while, so you might want to reconsider.”

  When they walked in, Cynthia thought the coffee smelled good. But the cigarette smoke didn’t. She read the limited menu, which was posted on the wall behind the counter. A single cup of coffee was one dollar. A never-ending cup was $1.99. Looking around at the patrons, Cynthia doubted any of them opted for the single cup.

  There was a 300-pound bearded man in an undersized plaid shirt and jeans sitting at a table with a skinny guy in a white T-shirt and a faded Chicago Bulls cap. Truckers, she thought.

  On the other side of the room was a very old couple, smoking and sipping coffee. They sat in silence, staring at nothing in particular. Their sad, worn faces seemed to know their shriveled bodies would be laid to rest soon.

  Larry selected a booth in the rear and they sat down. He took out his laptop and opened it. Then he lit his pipe and began to puff on it.

  “I need to go to the ladies room,” said Cynthia.

  “Okay.”

  She picked up her purse and started to go.

  “Wait.” He pointed to her purse. “Dump everything out on the table.”

  She frowned, but obeyed him.

  He fingered through the pile and picked up her cell phone and said, “Okay. And by the way, the watch has a little mike in it.” He grabbed the small earpiece that had been dangling on a wire running out the top of his shirt. He smiled at her as he put it in his ear.

  Cynthia tried to act as if she couldn’t care less. She put the stuff back into her purse and walked to the bathroom.

  Larry logged in, and began reading comments from his fans. He didn’t even look up when the waitress arrived for his order. “The never-ending coffee,” he said in a rude voice. “That’s all, for now.”

  Cathy didn’t appreciate his attitude. Just because she was a few years past her prime didn’t give him the right to treat her that way. Ten years ago, she thought, or maybe twenty, he would have been drooling all over her tight body. Every day she heard her mother’s voice:

  Mark my words, Cathy. You’re gonna to live to regret dropping out of college. The tips are great right now, but one day they’ll start to dry up. And then what are you going to do?

  Shut up, Mama, she thought. The loss of income didn’t bother her nearly as much as the loss of respect. Or, maybe she never really had gotten any respect. But at least the bozos used to lust for her. These days she got no validation whatsoever.

  Larry was elated by all the positive comments. Wait until they read the next chapter, he thought.

  Cathy delivered the coffee pot and poured his first cup. He watched her walk away, but was unimpressed by the view.

  The next comment was different from the others.

  I am a serious student of literature, so please do not think it trivial when I proclaim my adoration for you. Your writing invigorates my inner being. With every syllable of every word, I find my soul increasingly engorged by the powerful stroke of your pen. You may find the intensity of my passion inexplicable. But I assure you it is quite real.

  Thence, it is incumbent that I seek a rendezvous, so that I may bask in the radiance of your fertile mind, while you explore the wonders of my virginal body.

  Your fervent admirer, Chaucey.

  Larry didn’t know whether the woman was crazy or just really turned on. But he wasn’t too surprised his writing could have such an affect on a woman.

  She had included her picture. Chaucey was a breathtakingly beautiful, sexy young woman.

  But his love was only for Cynthia.

  What was taking her so long? He rushed to the ladies room and discretely slipped in.

  Cynthia was standing at the mirror staring at herself. “This is the ladies room. Do you mind?”

  Larry looked around. He checked each stall. Then he checked again—but this time he went inside each one to look at the back of the door. “What’s this?”

  Cynthia didn’t answer.

  “Did you really think you could get away with this? Wet some paper towels and get in here and clean it off.”

  Cynthia had used an eyebrow pencil to write:

  Please call the police. I have been abducted by Larry Luzor. Cynthia Blockerman Tenorly.

  She had added her Social Security number at the bottom.

  He waited while she wiped off her message. Then he checked it. “Now, scribble all over the door.”

  She followed his orders, erasing every discernible trace of her cry for help.

  “Now, you will go back out there and behave. Right?”

  She frowned at him. “Right.”

  She’ll come around, he thought. She just needs time.

  When they walked out of the ladies room everyone was still in their places. They apparently hadn’t seen or heard anything.

  Larry sat down on his side of the table and began typing on his laptop.

  Cynthia took her place across from him. After a few seconds she decided a little rest might make her feel better. For now, she would give up on getting away. She would think more clearly after a nap.

  **********

  Greg sat on the edge of the bed with his head bowed, and prayed silently.

  Oh, God, please don’t let anything happen to Cynthia. You gave her to me, Lord. You wanted us to be together, didn’t you? I beg you to protect her. Please don’t let him hurt her.

  “We’ll find her, Buddy,” said Sandy.

  “If anything happens to her I’ll never forgive myself.”

  “I know. But it wasn’t your fault.”

  Greg stood up. “Maybe it was.”

  Rebecca looked up from her laptop.

  “What are you talking about,” said Sandy.

  “Remember when I got that call on the night of the rehearsal?”

  “Oh, yeah—the prank call.” said Sandy.

  “Maybe it wasn’t a prank. And I got another call after that. I missed the second one, but he left a message.”

  “You didn’t tell me about that one,” said Sandy.

  �
��What did the guy say?” said Rebecca.

  “He said there were things I didn’t know about Cynthia and that she would rip my heart out.”

  “Okay, that’s good to know,” said Rebecca.

  “Why?” said Greg.

  “Because it sounds very much like what’s in the book. And if that’s the guy who took her—and I think it is—then he has a romantic interest in Cynthia.”

  Greg looked puzzled.

  “Why do you say that?” said Sandy.

  “When Greg got those calls, he thought they were a prank. But they were really an attempt by the caller to get Greg to postpone or cancel the wedding,” she said.

  Greg and Sandy looked at each other, both waiting for the other to talk first.

  Rebecca got up and walked to where they were standing. “Don’t you see, Greg? He wanted you out of her life so he could have her.”

  “You really think that’s it?” said Sandy.

  “Sure. And when his calls didn’t work and Greg married her anyway, he had to go to Plan B: steal her away before the marriage was consummated.”

  Sandy grimaced. “How do you know it wasn’t already consum—“

  “—it wasn’t,” said Greg.

  “But, look on the bright side, Greg,” she said. “If he’s in love with her, he won’t want to hurt her.”

  Greg tried to perk up. “Yeah…I guess not…”

  “Until she rejects him,” said Sandy.

  Rebecca slapped Sandy across the shoulder.

  “I’m sorry, Greg,” said Sandy.

  Rebecca walked back to her laptop. “Hey. He posted a new chapter.”

  “What does it say?” said Greg.

  “Let’s see…yes, he talks about putting the bug in the vase…and about making the phony call…and the abduction of his beloved redhead. They’re headed south on I-45 toward Houston.”

  “But how do we know he’s not feeding us bad information?” said Greg.

  Rebecca grinned. “Because he doesn’t know that we know his pseudonym—Barry Undermine.”

  “How do we know that?” said Greg.

  Sandy jumped in. “She found it in a trashcan when she broke into his house.”

  “What?” Greg didn’t know what to think of Sandy’s new friend.

  “It’s okay,” said Sandy. “Rebecca is a lawyer and a private eye.”