Lacene Lords

by Fornataro, Nancy

  He watched her walk away, admiring the back end view.

  Lila sat at her dressing table where she'd been for an hour. Sounds from the house below filtered up to her, and she knew they'd be coming to get her soon for the wake. But, her mind just refused to get behind the notion that Chad was dead.

  She checked her skin again in the magnifying mirror, while she sipped the tea Willie had brought her earlier. All the folds and creases showed up too much. Where had time gone? At one point in her life, she had the most luminescent, radiant skin in the town. Even younger women would ask her beauty secrets. Now, no matter how much she moisturized, the wrinkles were still there.

  Suddenly, a feeling of dread overtook her. She shivered violently. Still watching her reflection, the tea spilled, and she rocked back and forth, unable to control herself. All her moisturizer bottles flew off the vanity, shattering loudly on the floor.

  She sat, rooted to the spot, wrinkles growing deeper and deeper with every second that passed. Her heart thudded loudly in her chest. Her skin crawled.

  "Mother?" Karl's voice crashed into her consciousness, and she screamed.

  He stood in the doorway, surveying the mess. "Mother? What happened? Are you all right?" He walked over and eased her to face him on the vanity bench. Sitting beside her, he pulled her into a hug.

  "It was," she gasped, "the face..." but she was breathing too hard and couldn't finish her sentence.

  "It's okay," he soothed, patting her back, "It'll be all right, you'll see."

  Meg came into the room and cursed. "Lila, for heavens sake, what have you done?" She called Maria on the intercom to bring up cleaning supplies then turned back to her mother. "You're needed downstairs. Hissy fits will not help your situation."

  "I didn't," Lila was sobbing now, "I didn't do it."

  "Leave her alone," Karl said harshly.

  Meg ignored Karl and gave her a hard look. "You're needed downstairs," she repeated, before she left the room.

  "The mirror," Lila said weakly, dabbing her eyes with a tissue, "take it away."

  Karl nodded, not really understanding the why of it.

  "My face," Lila said.

  "Mother, I'll go with you downstairs. Try to hang in there. It's almost over."

  She sighed and said softly, "Why do I feel like it's just beginning?"

  CHAPTER SIX

  Spence thought the wake was jamming now. But, he thought he didn't want them too complacent. He put on a theme from a hit movie and smiled as people whirled around the floor, ducking and spinning. Old, young, they were all out there dancing and having fun.

  A female voice said, "So, are you back in town for a while or what?"

  He looked down at a woman Meg's age, around mid-thirties. Her straight black hair fell to her waist, and her stunning face was smooth and unlined. The smoldering, slanted dark eyes appraised him analytically and her lips held a slight natural pout.

  Beach babes in California had nothing on this one, Spence thought.

  "You don't remember me," she continued, "Tammy Sullivan."

  Thinking back, he did remember her. Skinny, braces, pixie haircut and glasses. A total nerd and straight A student. One he'd never hung around with in high school.

  He grinned at her. "You've changed." And, he thought, filled out in all the right places. Her low cut form-fitting black dress didn't hide the fact that she was, without a doubt, well endowed.

  "My father says I'm a late bloomer," she replied with a big smile.

  "Your father is right," he said. He remembered the father, Bryce Sullivan, on the board of directors at the bank. The man had come to their house for dinner when Spence was about fifteen, and he seemed like a real stuffed shirt prick back then.

  "So, how's your father?" He asked her.

  She scooted herself up and sat on the table facing him, with an expense of stockings and legs showing, along with a tad of black garter belt.

  Spence wondered idly when women stopped wearing those things. For some reason, now women thought plain legs were fine, when all men really wanted was a bit of the unknown.

  She flipped her three inch heel back and forth, on and off the toe of her foot. "He's retired and driving us all crazy. He plays some pool and goes to Red's sometimes, but mostly he sits in front of the TV."

  "And you?" Spence said, trying to keep his gaze on her face and away from her undergarments.

  "Oh, I'm teaching. I teach fifth grade at PS25. I never did figure that out either."

  Damn, she's sexy, Spence thought. And, she knew exactly what effect she was having on him too. "What's that?"

  "Well," she shifted so the whole garter showed now, "why they named it PS25 when it's the only school in town."

  For some reason Meg's heart shaped face popped into his mind, and he felt a pang of unreasonable guilt. "So," he said, trying to ignore it, "I don't remember seeing you at the funeral."

  "I don't do funerals, just wakes," she said in a low, throaty voice, "they're so much more fun, don't you think?"

  He didn't respond, just grinned, and she continued.

  "Black hair, black dress and black hose..." she ran a hand down her thigh, "I'd just blend in with the crowd, don't you think?"

  Laughing now, he changed the record to an '80's tune. "I can't see you exactly blending in with any crowd."

  "So," she said, "how long are you in town, Spence?"

  Sitting next to her, he said, "I'm not sure. There are a few loose ends with Chad's will. And I think Meg could use some company other than immediate family."

  "Ah, yes. Meg. Rumor has it the long-suffering sister is in dire mental straights."

  He saw Meg heading towards the table, and said, "Heads up."

  "Ooops," Tammy said as she pushed herself off the table, "My cue to find Daddy."

  Bryce Sullivan was relieved to see his daughter finally come towards him. He'd watched her flirting with that Moorehouse kid for fifteen minutes, and he wanted to squash any notion she had of seeing him.

  "You aren't mingling, Daddy," she said, as she approached him.

  "You know I don't mingle. Besides, I was watching you and that punk."

  She laughed. "He's not even a punk. They don't say punk anymore."

  "He was before. And people don't change."

  "But he said I changed Daddy. He didn't recognize me."

  "That's different. You just fixed your hair and got contacts a while back. I'm talking about a change in mind-set. He always thought he was above the law, always felt like he was better than us. He got it from his father, the ultimate heavy handed son-of-a-bitch."

  "Daddy! You know we don't speak of the dead that way."

  "Well, you know Oscar Moorehouse and I never got along."

  "But that was business, Daddy. This," she slipped a sly look at Spence, "is pleasure."

  "Oh, spare me. That's all you need is to hang out with the likes of him."

  "God forbid you should pick my boyfriends, Daddy. Besides, I think he would just be a little boy toy at the Roadhouse Inn."

  Thinking of the Roadhouse Inn, a seedy motel at the far end of town, his face grew red.

  "Kidding, Daddy. Kidding." She put a hand on his arm. "Don't have a fit now, I was just joking."

  His lips compressed before he replied, "Don't talk to me about that loser. The subject is closed."

  Spence watched the exchange between father and daughter while listening to Meg tell him about spilled lotions and hysterical mothers.

  "So," she ended up, "I don't know if she'll be down or not. Karl's with her."

  He was silent for a minute as he searched through his CD's. Pushing one in the slot, he said, "Have you been on the dance floor yet?"

  "No, I haven't--"

  Leading her gently by her waist past the table and onto the dance floor, he said, "Now's the time."

  The singer's blues voice wrapped around him and he pulled Meg close as the song began. Her touch was light on his arm, and her cheeks were soft against his.

&n
bsp; "You have captured my soul," he breathed, when he put his lips just inches from hers, "with your beautiful, sexy ways."

  The song floated and hung in the air like the apparition from two nights before, as they spun around the dance floor.

  You gave me trust, when I needed someone I could count on.

  Meg sang, "You bring me happiness every minute of every hour."

  He pulled her closer, softly whispering the lyrics as their bodies seemed to melt into each other.

  You are my sweet wonderful you, who could ask for more.

  But suddenly, while they danced cheek to cheek, he felt a tap on his shoulder.

  Bryce Sullivan danced away with Meg, a sour expression on his face, and Tammy was in his arms.

  Her two hands grasped the back of his neck, and he felt her heavy hair as his mouth quirked up in a smile and his arms closed along her muscular backside.

  "I told my father I wanted one dance," she said, "he doesn't like you much."

  He held her closer. "Ask me if I give a shit."

  You gave me a thrill I've never experienced.

  "Give me a thrill," she whispered in his ear, "and I'll always love you."

  They spun around and Tammy pressed against him invitingly. He realized they danced well together, as he dipped her, with her hair almost reaching the floor, and she came back up, wrapping her arms around his neck, then gazing into his eyes.

  Lips against his, grinding against him now, she mouthed the words, "'Til the end of my life..."

  They spun once, twice before the song ended, and they broke apart.

  For once, Spence was speechless. Her hungry, raw sexuality made him want her. Big time.

  Humming chatter in the room broke the spell, as he realized he needed to get back to his music, back to reality.

  "I'd better go."

  Her look was bold, but she said nothing as she turned and walked away, hips swaying.

  A few minutes later, with no sign of Meg, Spence left Willie in charge of the music and met Davey and Pap at the food tables in the large dining room. They all helped themselves to beer, tri-tip, corn, beans, French bread, casseroles, and desserts of all types.

  They found three empty chairs, and Pap began, between bites of food, "We ain't finding much on your folks, son."

  Spence sighed and sat back in his chair. "Why not?"

  Davey held his hand up. "Now, we've got something. The original notes. Because it was unsolved, it was left in the unsolved...open murders section." He paused. "Actually, after all those years, we're lucky we found anything on it."

  "Then why do you say you didn't find much?" Spence said in an exasperated tone.

  Pap took a deep breath and coughed. "You gotta understand, boy. Back then, we didn't take a lot of notes like they do now."

  Davey took over, as he could tell his father was having trouble breathing. "Now, we take notes of everything, even if it doesn't seem important to the case. We take blood-spatter angles along with everything right down to how the weather was that day. We separate the witnesses so they can't talk to each other."

  Images of cascading blood came into Spence's mind, and he dropped his fork back onto his plate. "So," he said slowly, "what exactly do you have?"

  "Time of night," Davey said, "theories, some statements, one from you and one from Meg. Descriptions of the scene and some follow-up notes. A few color pictures. That's about it."

  "Can I get a copy of the notes? I can do without the pictures." Spence wasn't sure what he'd do with the file notes, but he just wanted to read them. To try to get some closure. Anything would be better than the way he felt right now.

  "Sure, I'll have it for you tomorrow. Meet me at the station, say around eleven."

  Davey and Pap sat conferring about which beans were better, Mexican or baked, as Spence got up and threw his plate in the trash.

  Harv Brewster stood by the beer keg, drunk as usual, in a heated discussion with a few local men about rabbit hunting. Spence didn't stop.

  On the way back to the record player, through the hallway, he ran into Big Jake. The man had just come in from the storm, as water drained off his coat and the brim of his black hat.

  "Jake, what's up?"

  He took his hat off and shook himself free of his coat. "It's Lila," he said disgustedly, "made me go out in this, claiming some kind of dog or monster was out there. Made me go out and see. Don't know what in hell is wrong with that woman. Had to wave to her from the lawn that everything was okay. Crazy business."

  Spence smiled. "It seems to be one of those nights. The women are acting unusual." And, he grew warm at the thought of his dance with Tammy.

  "Stuff and nonsense. Don't think Lila's coming down," Jake continued, as he wiped his face. "If anyone asks, just say she's grieving or something like that."

  "Got it," Spence replied. "Say, Jake, would you mind if I stay here a few extra days? There are a few things I want to look into--"

  Jake touched his upper arm. "'Course boy, you're just like a second son to me. No problem. Just tell me or Karl if you need anything."

  As he walked away, Spence realized Jake hadn't mentioned Meg. She'd probably lost her credibility with her father a long time ago, Spence thought.

  He mingled a bit with some locals he knew, got sucked into a conversation with Harv Brewster after all then went to relieve Willie at the DJ spot.

  Simon Liskey heard their song filtering through the loud chatter of voices around him.

  You are so beautiful my love, so lovely my love.

  He set his whiskey on the table and looked around for Tammy. She remembered the song. She was walking straight for him. He stood.

  "Simon," she purred, as she reached out and straightened his tie, "you look good."

  He smiled and knew she was lying. His suit barely fit him anymore he'd gained so much weight. Plus every day there were more and more of his hairs in the bathroom sink. "Remember this song?"

  Laughing, she replied, "The angel that heaven has sent down to me? Come on, Simon. Even you can't believe it."

  "Still a deacon at church, Simon?"

  He nodded. Damn her and her beauty, he thought. Every other woman just paled in comparison. But, she was so bad. So terribly bad.

  As if reading his thoughts, she pressed herself against him, and rubbed his crotch with one hand. "Remember the good old times, Simon? At Roadhouse Inn?"

  He groaned. How could he forget? So many nights of carnal images flashed through his mind. Things that he'd never done with other women. Base and degrading things. And she'd always had control, never let it slip, always been the one with the whip.

  He'd had a glimpse of love, just as the singer.

  "You going to be free soon?" he asked stiffly.

  "I'm always free," she said, running a finger down his tie, "and always easy. You know where to find me."

  But, as he watched her walk away, he knew it was no good. The father at church had warned him. Obsessions were not good. And, that's what she was. The whole six months they'd seen each other he'd never thought about anyone or anything else but her.

  She was as near perfect as any woman he'd ever seen. He'd stroked her soft hair afterwards and she'd nuzzled his neck. The Roadhouse Inn was their meeting place three times a week, always at her insistence. He'd often left briefs go undone and clients unprotected while he felt her luscious body and gave in to her ruinous fantasies.

  Now, he gave a sigh of relief as Meg walked up to him and said, "Simon, how are you?"

  "Fine, I'm fine. Just wanted to say how sorry I am for you all Meg."

  She nodded. "Thanks. We all loved Chad very much. I feel like a piece of me is missing, you know?"

  He nodded. They were silent for a moment before she said, "How's the firm doing?"

  Liskey, Hobbs and Associates. He thought of the huge pile of bills on his desk and the ever shrinking client base in Lacene, and he replied, "Fine. We're doing well. We caught a Rushburg murder case the other day."

  And,
as Meg nodded and looked impressed, Simon felt as guilty as the man who'd just retained him. DNA evidence didn't lie, and although the man hadn't admitted his guilt to Simon, it was a lost cause.

  Forgetting his problems temporarily, he grabbed Meg by the hand as he heard the group Outstanding's newest song. "Let's do this Chad's way," he said to her with a smile.

  The dancers were two steps forward, clap, two steps backwards, clap, shimmy, arm out, side step left, shimmy, arm out, side step right. Even Pap was out there on the dance floor, awkwardly trying to follow the steps.

  As Spence watched the dance floor come alive, he smiled. Willie pounded the table then air danced with his arms.

  "Really fitting, don't you think Spence?"

  "What?" Feet pounded loudly to the beat of the music.

  "I mean, a fitting song for this house? All about goblins and things that go bump in the night. It's like major Halloween around here all the time."

  Spence laughed but then took notice as a dripping wet deputy sheriff came in the room and spoke with Davey.

  The two approached Spence. "We need to make an announcement," Davey said. "Fields Road is starting to flood. We have to get everyone out of here early."

  Spence and Willie swore in unison.

  "Just load them up with food," Davey continued, "and send them home. No sense having any more dead people around here."

  When the song ended, Spence made the announcement, then finished with "...and we and Chad thank you all for coming tonight. He would have enjoyed the music and the company both."

  As things wrapped up, Spence looked for Tammy and her father, but they were nowhere to be seen.

  *****

  The two men faced each other by a brick fireplace. Rain pounded relentlessly on the windows.

  "We've got to make this quick. The shindig is breaking up, and I need to get back."

  "He's asking for the notes."

  The other man nodded. "Anything there?"

  "Doubt it. But he's still sniffing around where he doesn't belong."

  "Want me to do anything yet?"