Greg Tenorly Suspense Series Boxed Set

by Robert Burton Robinson

  The bass player must have seen Cynthia talking to E. Z., thought Greg. She’s going to tip her off.

  “Hey, Sondra, would you mind giving me a ride?” said Boomer.

  “How’d you get here?” said Sondra with a scowl.

  “I caught a ride with Cindy. But she’s got a date with Craig tonight. Come on—Butterfly Inn is on your way home.”

  “Oh, alright. Get in,” said Sondra.

  As they drove out of the parking lot, Boomer said, “This is great—being back together again.”

  “Yeah,” said Sondra.

  “I’m so glad you asked me to be in your band,” She put her hand on top of Sondra’s thigh.

  Sondra snatched Boomer’s hand off her leg. “We’re in a band together. That’s all. And I’m just giving you a ride home. We’ve been through all this before. I thought you understood.”

  “Sure. I do.”

  Sondra hoped she hadn’t made a big mistake. But she had been desperate for a good bass player. Without Boomer, Orange Puke would not exist.

  Sondra drove up in front of Boomer’s motel room door. “Well, see you tomorrow.”

  “Come in for just a minute, Sondra. I want to show you something.”

  “No, I’m tired. Whatever it is, I’ll see it later.”

  “Awe, come on. It’s a cool new bass I’m thinking about buying. It’ll just take a second.”

  Sondra hesitated. “Okay. I’ll come in for just a second. That’s all.”

  “Great.” Boomer smiled as they got out of the car. She unlocked the door and led Sondra into her room.

  A few seconds later, Greg drove by and spotted Sondra’s car. He made a U-turn and went back up to the front of the parking lot and found a spot between two U-haul trucks. He backed in carefully. He would wait there until Sondra drove by. Then he would follow her.

  Greg turned off the engine and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket to give Cynthia a call. It was dead. He thought about going into the motel lobby to make the call. But then he might miss Sondra.

  If only he’d known what was to come, he would have left Butterfly Inn right then. He would have jammed the accelerator to the floorboard, sideswiping cars on the way out of the parking lot, burning all the rubber off his tires, blowing out the engine—whatever it took to get him far away from Sondra Crench.

  If only he’d known what was to come.

  18 - WITNESS

  Cynthia decided to wait until E. Z. had finished her conversation with Cindy Banya before approaching her. Craig Buttard walked up behind Cindy and put his arm around her. Almost immediately the couple said their goodbyes to E. Z. and walked away.

  “Could we please talk now?”

  E. Z. looked around to make sure Sondra was really gone. “I guess.”

  “We were just wondering why you went to visit Edsel Torkman in the hospital,” said Cynthia.

  “Who?”

  “The nurse told us. She saw you there in his room.”

  E. Z. hesitated.

  “We’re thinking that what happened to Edsel was not an accident. And that you know something about it.”

  “I wasn’t me.”

  “Then why did you go to his hospital room?”

  E. Z. looked down. “I just wanted to make sure he was okay.”

  “How did you even know he was in the hospital?”

  “Well, I…heard somebody talking about the accident.”

  “Who?”

  “Cindy, I think. Maybe Craig told her. I don’t want to answer any more questions.”

  “Did Sondra have anything to do with this?”

  E. Z.’s eyes darted away.

  “Is she the one who did it?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t say…for sure.”

  “But you think it was her.”

  “Maybe.” The she quickly added, “I shouldn’t be telling you this.”

  “Yes, you should. We’re talking about attempted murder. It looks like he’s going to be okay once his ribs heal—but we can’t let whoever did this get away with it. Can we?”

  E. Z. considered the question for a moment. “I followed her car. She did go into his shop for a few minutes and then left. But I don’t know what she did while she was in there.”

  **********

  “So, what do think? Should I get it?” said Boomer, as she took off her bright orange tux coat and hung it in her tiny closet. Most of her clothes were still in suitcases. In a cheap motel like Butterfly Inn you were lucky if you got a closet big enough to hang three or four items.

  “Sure.” Sondra was sitting on the bed, reading the detailed specifications for the bass guitar Boomer was interested in buying. “You’ve got this kind of money to spend?”

  “Well, no—not yet. But now that I have a paying gig I can save up for it.”

  “Don’t you want to get your own place first?”

  “I really want that bass,” said Boomer. “An apartment can wait.”

  “It’s your money,” said Sondra, handing Boomer the catalog as she stood up. “I gotta go.” She walked toward the door.

  Boomer follower her. “Wait. I’ve got to show you something else.”

  “Boomer…” Sondra’s patience was wearing thin. She turned around, expecting to see the catalog opened at the bass amplifier page.

  Boomer had removed her blouse, and was standing two feet from Sondra. “How do like this bra?”

  “What are you doing?” Boomer didn’t even need a bra. “Yeah, that’s nice.”

  Sondra was about to turn and bolt for the door when Boomer grabbed her and pulled her tight against her body. Sondra was a strong woman, but Boomer was stronger than a lot of men. She tried to kiss Sondra, but Sondra turned her head to one side and then the other.

  Sondra knew she would never win a battle of strength against her bass player. So, she gave in. She let Boomer kiss her on the lips. When Boomer forced her tongue deep into Sondra’s mouth, she nearly gagged. But then she seemed to give in to the inevitable. She kissed Boomer back, as though she were kissing a man, encircling Boomer’s lips with her tongue and then sliding it inside.

  Boomer began get more excited while at the same time relaxing her grip.

  “Let’s get this bra off of you,” said Sondra.

  Boomer smiled and released her.

  Sondra could have tried to run right then, but she knew if she failed she would not get a second chance to earn Boomer’s trust. “Turn around, Honey.”

  Boomer turned her back to Sondra.

  Before unclasping the bra, Sondra rubbed Boomer’s back. “How does that feel?”

  “Good, Baby. Real good,” purred Boomer.

  Sondra managed to get her right hand into her pocket for a brief moment, and then quickly returned it to Boomer’s back.

  “You’re teasing,” said Boomer.

  “I’m teasing myself too.”

  “Oh, Baby.”

  Sondra worked both fists up Boomer’s back, and then onto her neck. The key ring was in her right hand. She extended a key, turning the pointy side to Boomers neck. It was a new house key Val had made for her daughter, and it still had razor sharp edges. She slashed it viciously across Boomer’s neck, from front to back.

  Boomer jumped away from Sondra. Blood gushed out of her neck with each beat of her heart. “What did you do to me?” She tried to stop the bleeding with her hands, to no avail. She walked toward Sondra, but then stumbled and fell to the floor. “Call 9-1-1, Sondra! Please!”

  “You just wouldn’t listen,” said Sondra, standing over her.

  “I’m sorry. But please don’t let me die!”

  “Nobody can save you now. Goodbye, Boomer.”

  **********

  Greg wondered what was taking Sondra so long. He was fairly certain that there was only one way in and out of Butterfly Inn’s parking lot. But what if he was mistaken? She might have already gotten away.

  The two U-Haul trucks he had parked between were blocking his view of everything to his sides. He
got out and walked to the front of his car to make sure Sondra was still there. He thought he saw her car, but he wasn’t sure. He decided to take a closer look.

  When he reached Boomer’s room he confirmed that Sondra’s car was still parked there. But instead of walking back to his car, he decided to listen at the door.

  Suddenly the door opened and he jumped back.

  “What are you doing here?” said Sondra.

  “I need to talk to you.”

  She hesitated. “Okay. Come in.”

  “Why don’t you just step out here for a minute?”

  “No. If you want to talk then you’ll have to come in here.”

  Maybe this was better, he thought. Sondra would probably lie. Perhaps Boomer would accidentally let something slip.

  Greg stepped into the dark room, and the door closed behind him. “Could you please turn on a—”

  Sondra hit him over the head with a lamp.

  He crumpled to the floor.

  **********

  “He’s still not answering.” Cynthia closed her cell phone. She and E. Z. were standing in the parking lot at Billy-Eye’s. “Now I’m getting worried.”

  “Where would he have gone?”

  “He must have followed Sondra. That’s got to be it. And his phone must be dead.” She was about to freak out. “Could you give me a ride?”

  “Sure. Where do you want to go?”

  “I don’t know. Where would Sondra go?”

  **********

  Greg gradually became aware of a very loud noise—possibly the TV. But why was it turned up so loud? And why was he having so much trouble waking up?

  As his vision began to clear, he realized his head was lying on top of a woman. But it wasn’t Cynthia! What in the world is going on here? I hope I’m still dreaming, he thought.

  When he raised his head he saw the blood. It was all over the woman’s upper chest, shoulders, and neck. He pushed himself up with his hands. That was when he realized that he and the woman were on the floor. The blood was everywhere—all over the floor and furniture, in drips and smears and puddles. He wondered if there was any left in her body.

  Then he recognized the woman—it was Boomer, the bass guitar player. She was completely naked—and so was he! How did this happen? He got out from between her legs and stood up. He was still wearing shoes and socks. His pants and underwear were at his ankles. He looked at her. Surely we didn’t have sex, he thought. He pulled up his underwear and pants.

  How had this happened? And why was the TV blaring? He picked up the remote and turned it off. Immediately, he heard somebody knocking on the door. Banging. He quickly wiped his hands on the bedspread to get most of the blood off and then picked up his shirt from the floor and put it on. Then he turned off all the lights and went to the door.

  He latched the chain and then opened the door just a sliver. “Yes?”

  The manager was screaming at the top of her four-pack-a-day hoarse voice. “Are you people crazy—cranking up the TV full-blast at midnight?

  “I’m very sorry. We must have dozed off. I think I was lying on the remote. I must have been accidentally pushing the volume button.”

  “I tried calling you. Why didn’t you answer the phone?”

  “I don’t know. I guess we were really zonked-out.”

  “Idiots!” She walked away. “From now on—keep it down!”

  Greg closed the door. Should he call the police? Or maybe call Cynthia first? She must be wondering what happen to me, he thought. He found the phone on the floor in a corner. The wires were missing.

  He thought about going to the office to call the police. But how was this going to look? Boomer was naked and dead. And his DNA was all over her. They’d probably assume he’d had sex with her. Oh, Cynthia. How would he explain all this to her?

  Sondra. She obviously killed Boomer. And now he was sure that she was the one who tried to kill Edsel. She might be on her way to the hospital to finish him off right now. Or she might even go after Cynthia.

  If he had to take time for the police right now, Sondra might never be caught. The police interrogation could wait. And Boomer was beyond help anyway. So, he decided to go after Sondra. But how would he ever find her? He didn’t know where to begin to look.

  He grabbed Boomer’s purse from the nightstand and dumped the contents out onto the bed. There was a wallet, a pack of gum, lipstick, a few receipts, and some tissues. One of the receipts had something written on the back. He picked it up. It was an address in Orange. Greg knew the street. It might be nothing. But it was all he had.

  Oh, God, help me, he prayed as he quietly slipped out the door into the black night.

  19 - VAL TAKES A STAND

  When Sondra drove up to the house and parked, she could see that the living room lights were still on. It was after midnight. Val was either drunk or asleep in her recliner—or both.

  Sondra unlocked the front door and walked in. “I hope you didn’t wait up for me.”

  “Nope. Just watching Leave It to Beaver,” slurred Val.

  Sondra glanced at the TV screen to confirm what she thought her mother had said. She hurried to her bedroom, quickly packed her suitcase, grabbed her acoustic guitar and headed back through the living room on her way to the front door.

  “June Cleaver never had problems with her daughter.”

  “Val, the Cleavers didn’t have any daughters. They just had Wally and The Beaver.”

  “They were lucky.”

  Sondra didn’t have time for this. She was not going to let her mother drag her into the tired old argument about what kind of a person her daughter had grown up to be. She opened the door and carried her suitcase and guitar to her car, and loaded them into the trunk. She planned to drive far away and never come back. But as she opened her car door and started to get in, she realized she would never see her mother again. And she just couldn’t stand to leave without at least saying goodbye.

  When Sondra opened the front door to walk back inside, she saw Val hanging up the phone.

  “Who were you talking to at this hour?” She had already closed the door behind her when she saw the gun.

  Val picked up the pistol from her lap and pointed it at her daughter. “I can’t let you leave town.”

  “Val, put that thing down. You’re drunk.”

  “I called 9-1-1.”

  “Why—to tell them you’re drunk and you’re playing around with a gun?”

  “Don’t get smart with me, Young Lady. I called to tell them you killed that boy.”

  “What? Are you out of your mind?” Sondra regretted that she hadn’t strangled the old woman when she had the chance. “I told you I didn’t kill him! You’re just crazy. You think the police are gonna believe a crazy old woman?”

  Val ignored her daughter’s remarks. “Of course, I know it’s my fault you turned out like this.”

  “Turned out like what? I don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t make any sense when you’re drunk, Val.”

  “It all started that night when Buster killed your dog.”

  “I don’t want to talk about that. Just put the gun down—please.”

  “Well, that’s not really true. I guess it started the first time he beat you. He came home drunk—like he always did on Friday nights, and stepped on one of your toys in the living room and twisted his ankle. He was always telling you to pick up your toys. So, he got mad and yanked you out of bed and whipped you black and blue with his belt. I don’t think he meant to hit you with the buckle. He probably didn’t even know he was holding it by the wrong end. And to this day, every time you look in the mirror and see that scar over your right eye, it must remind you of that night.”

  “I never even think about that. Now, put down the gun.”

  “And that wasn’t the last time he beat you. But then—when he killed your dog…what was that little dog’s name? Muttly. Yeah, that’s it.”

  “Stop.” Sondra stepped toward Val, hoping she could sna
tch the pistol out of her hand.

  Val raised the gun higher. “Get back!”

  Sondra slowly moved back to where she had been standing.

  “Yeah. You had gone off to school without feeding Muttly, and when your father came home that night you were at a friend’s house. That little dog was barking like crazy by the time he got home.”

  “Why didn’t you feed him?”

  “I wanted you to learn a lesson. It was your job. And I knew Buster would get mad and chew you out for it.”

  “Thanks,” said Sondra, with rancorous sarcasm.

  “Yeah. I’ve always felt guilty about that.” She paused. “But it was what happened the next night that ruined you for life.”

  “It didn’t ruin me. I wanted him dead.”

  “I know you did. And I was afraid of what you would do,” said Val, beginning to sober up just a bit.

  “It felt so good when I saw him sprawled out on the sidewalk with his head busted open.”

  “But it was wrong. He was a mean drunk—but he didn’t deserve to die.”

  “Yes, he did.”

  “Well, maybe he did. But now that I’ve seen what it did to you—it just wasn’t worth it. You’ve never been the same.”

  “Hey, I learned how to stand up for myself that night. I knew from then on I would never let anybody push me around.”

  “It’s my fault. And don’t think I haven’t lived with the guilt all these years.”

  “Why should you feel guilty? He beat you too.”

  Val looked surprised. “I didn’t think you…”

  “Of course I knew. How could I not know? Is that why you never screamed? Because you didn’t want me to hear?”

  Val stared at her in disbelief.

  “I could hear you whimpering for hours afterwards—while he was snoring. The next day, he’d act like nothing happened. And so would you. But I knew.”

  “I taught you a lesson alright. But it was the wrong lesson.”

  “After that night everything was fine.”

  “How can you say that, Sondra? He died. And I’ve never been able to forgive myself. That night is what made you the way you are.”