Lacene Lords

by Fornataro, Nancy

  "Yeah, but knowin' that bank like I do, I wouldn't get your hopes up. They're lucky if they can find yesterday's deposit slips."

  "Never knew the Moorehouse husband was a decorated Vet."

  Pap smiled. "People run deeper than you think, son. A lot of people keep a lot of things to themselves. Knew he went to 'Nam but not about the medals."

  "Wonder why the Moorehouse kid never told you about the black box."

  Pap sat back in his chair. "Yeah. Spence. You should have seen him. He was sixteen. Came home from the movies with Meg. They both saw the bodies and the blood. When I got there, she was out front vomiting and he was in the house screaming at the top of his lungs. Took me and another deputy ten minutes to get him out of there. Then, he couldn't talk to give us a statement. He was too shook up. We took him to the station, after Double D, the Rushburg guys, showed up. Put him in a room and let him thrash it out."

  He paused and took a deep breath. "He finally gave a statement. Meg was in the next room over, and confirmed it." Shaking his head he said, "Bad, bad business, that."

  Davey said softly, "We still got us a killer on the loose, Pap."

  "Yeah. He's been out there for years," Pap said. Their eyes met. "Let's nail him."

  *****

  Gace Stutgart opened the old letters very carefully and made copies, as he never worked from originals. He noticed the originals were folded in thirds, not in half. The writer was careful and not in a hurry.

  On first impression, the handwriting slanted right. An emotional person or an emotional topic. The sample before him seemed to be valid and written possibly from a home or office, not on a train or plane with vibration, which would skew his results. Also, luckily it was not on lined paper, which would have been difficult.

  He made some intricate numerical calculations into his computer as he munched on his popcorn. After that, he stopped for a minute to get some general impressions.

  The flow of the writing was continuous, which meant a more outgoing person, and also the forward slope indicated an extrovert. This person was friendly because the letters were well rounded.

  After digging a candy bar out of his desk, and eating half, he continued. He drew lines through the word slope. Again, forward indicated an outgoing personality and a somewhat happy person.

  His secretary came into his small, cluttered office. She smoothed her blonde ponytail, before she said, "Popcorn. Hmmm, now candy. Your usual afternoon feast. I don't know where you put it, Gace." The flirty expression on her pretty face was not lost on him.

  He grinned. "I work out a lot. Where do you put it?" This mutual attraction was constant between them for the year they'd been working together, but both had significant others, so nothing ever came of it. But, Gace thought, it was fun anyway.

  "I know. My friends all hate me for being slim." She paused. And, he thought, slim didn't really describe her. 'Stacked' was more the word he would use.

  She continued, "Detective Smith wants to know if you're done yet with the sample."

  He sighed. "Tell him no, I just got the thing. At least another day or so."

  "He won't be happy. Sounded pretty hyper to me."

  "Yeah. I like his partner better."

  After she left, concentrating again, he noticed the words on the sample were close together. This, he thought, was a very social person.

  Some of the words were cut off. Impatience. The lower case letters were extended. A very physical person. The letters A, C and M being even told him this was a person with common sense. But the downward pull of G and P won out, were not even with the A, C and M, which meant the physical won out over the common sense at times.

  Gradually, he drew himself a picture in his mind of the letter writer. Emotional, interested in people, somewhat difficult at times, who thought very fast, and who was sometimes careless and distracted.

  It's all in the handwriting, he thought. Leaving out his more technical plots and graphs, he wrote a memo to Detectives Smith and Ellison on the writer of the Lacene love letters.

  *****

  As Spence and Harv exited the barbershop, shorn and shaved, Tammy stood at the front of the Cadillac, leaning against it.

  "Go ahead and get in, Harv," Spence said. "I'll be with you directly."

  He stood next to her then, with his back end resting on the Caddy.

  "My God," she said, as she whirled in front of him and ran her fingers through his hair, "you look absolutely edible." Her hand came down and stroked his smooth cheek. "And, lickable."

  He laughed. "So, school's out?"

  "Yeah," she said, pulling her long hair back with one hand, "you could say that."

  Spence's eyes roved down to her cleavage and back up to her face. "Nice dress." Now that was an understatement, he thought. She looked sensational in a low-cut Marilyn Monroe type dress with white sandals and beige stockings. He remembered the wake and garter belts. He wondered idly what color belt it was today.

  "This old dress?" She moved closer to him and ran a hand down her side. "You need to see me without it sometime, or at least," she paused and smiled broadly, "stripped down to the basics."

  He laughed again.

  "We really need to meet sometime, Spence."

  For some reason, Meg entered his mind, as Ned came out of the barbershop and onto the porch. "Everything okay, Spence?" he asked.

  "Yeah, Ned. We were just leaving."

  Spence turned toward the driver's door and she grabbed his arm. "Remember me," she said as she winked at him and walked across the street.

  He chuckled as she strolled away, and he and Harv drove back to Jake's house.

  After Maria's dinner of enchiladas and more bickering between Lila and Jake, still waiting for Meg and Willie to return from urgent care, Spence asked Jake if he could use the study. He knew he'd been putting it off all afternoon, but the unfortunate truth was that he needed to look at the murder file Davey had given him.

  He sat at Jake's large desk and opened it. Time and date were noted: 'April 17, 1982 at 22:15 hours officer one, Sheriff Smith and officer two, under sheriff Townsend, arrived at 340 Gulch Drive, Lacene, Arizona after being summoned by 911 call from neighbor Lynch Conseco. Outside of home was in tact, but Meg Cowell, known to officers, was vomiting on front lawn and screams coming from inside the house. Officers drew down, and entered house through front door. Subject screaming was one Spence Moorehouse, son of owners Oscar and June Moorehouse. Deputy one moved to kitchen, dining area, back porch and basement, securing areas. Deputies, seeing apparently dead bodies of June Moorehouse in living room and Oscar Moorehouse in kitchen, then proceeded to subdue the son.'

  Spence paused reading. They told him what happened later, but he never could remember when the deputies came in. He just remembered the crimson, coppery smelling blood and wide open flaps on his parent's necks. He'd gone from his mother, who he cradled in his arms, to his father, who he hugged, as if to breathe life back into him.

  He continued reading. 'Son was placed in squad car, while back-up was called in. Further analysis of the crime scene indicated both victim's throats were slashed but no knife or other instrument was found on scene. Blood trails led to back yard, but could not be followed after grass area. A call was made to Rushburg detective squad for assistance.

  At April 18, 00:15 hours, subject son was taken to central offices. At 02:15, subject son signed statement, here enclosed. Subject Meg Cowell signed corroborating statement independently at 02:45. Subject son and Meg Cowell were released into custody of one Jake Cowell, known to sheriff's office.'

  Spence saw a note was added, 'Further investigation revealed no knife or other weapons used in the attack. Although able to determine the killer was right handed, as of September 20, 1982, Rushburg homicide detectives were unable to locate any suspects, weapons, or other useful information on this case.'

  Double D's. Spence remembered them. Useless pricks from Rushburg who'd grilled him mercilessly for four hours the next day.

 
; He sighed, and flipped past the coroner's report. Pap Miller was right. There wasn't much in the file at all. He read his statement to the police that held his scrawling signature. 'Meg and I went to the movies at 8:00 p.m. April 17, 1982. The movie was done at 10:00 p.m. Meg and I got to my house at 10:30 after stopping at Carrie's for some French fries. The front door of the house was unlocked. We walked in. My mother was on the left in the living room lying in a pool of blood. My father was in the kitchen lying in blood. They both looked dead. That's all I remember. Signed, Spence Moorehouse, April 18, 1982 - 02:15.'

  Meg's version was similar, filed in back of his in the small file folder.

  He got up from Jake's desk and paced the room. If he could only get his hands on the murderer. Just one time, for just one minute. His hatred grew now that he was back in Lacene. It festered in him, and he needed relief.

  The exercise room. Jake had weight benches, mats, treadmills and elliptical trainer machines in a special room upstairs. He headed for the staircase.

  Meg heard the music before she even went upstairs. A new rock band called 'Treasure'...loud. She made sure Willie was okay in his bedroom then headed for the workout room.

  She was worried about Willie. It wasn't just the drugs and the fact he had broken his collar bone in a fight, but he seemed lonely somehow, and unreachable. They were growing apart, and although she knew it was a natural thing at his age, it was still killing her and she grieved. He was his own person now and making his own decisions.

  Reaching the door to the exercise room, she heard, Well I'm squeezing you babe, check it and see. Let me check, she thought, with a wry smile.

  Spence was on the treadmill, just wearing his shorts, running to nowhere.

  She leaned against the door jam and observed him take a break, wipe his face with a towel, and sit on the weight bench. He started lifting weights in time to the music.

  Know you love me and that ain't no lie...

  Her eyes were drawn like magnets to his slick-looking arm muscles and those in his back, now protruding with his efforts. He'd had his hair cut and he looked good.

  She went in the room quietly closing the door behind her. He hadn't noticed her yet. Jake never did finish the wall of mirrors in this room, she thought absently.

  Yeah, I know you're ready, babe, just like me...

  Closing her eyes, she danced and moved with the pounding beat and felt it wrap around her mind and body both.

  You and me tonight, then you will see...

  Maybe that's why Willie liked pot, she thought. Maybe he was hot blooded. Sex, drugs and rock and roll. She thought maybe it was time for Big Jake to talk to him. Or Spence.

  Suddenly, she felt Spence grab her and hug her. He danced her around the room and she felt his slick, sweat-soaked back and arms.

  He held her tighter as she went to pull away. "Where do you think you're going?" he whispered in her ear, as his cheek grazed hers. "Come on baby, do you do more than tease?" he crooned.

  "Spence--"

  His mouth came down on hers hard and they stopped dancing. She felt something coming from deep inside him, something she didn't like, yet liked at the same time. It was very confusing. It was almost as if someone else had stepped into his shoes.

  He pulled back a bit and his lips were inches from hers. "Tell me," he urged.

  "What?"

  "Tell me you want me. Right here, right now."

  Will you save your love for me through the years, I know you will...

  "We can't--" she began.

  But he cut her off again with a rough kiss.

  She broke free but slipped on a mat as she headed for the door, landing on her stomach.

  He grabbed her feet and pulled her back. Flipping her over on her back, he crushed her with his body and held her hands tight above her head. She could feel his erection as he began pumping against her.

  "Stop this," she hissed, "for God's sake, what the hell are you doing, Spence?"

  "Tell me," he said, as the music thumped in the background, as he watched her, "tell me."

  "No."

  He grinned as they stared each other down. "You know you want it. Go ahead, fight me."

  We'll meet at my place, then you'll see, and forever you will love me...

  "Claw my back," he whispered against her lips, "go ahead. Be a bitch. You have my permission."

  Something in his eyes...something she'd never seen there before. "Get off me," she said quickly, tersely.

  "And forever you will," he sang along, while he still grinned, "you're looking so tight."

  But a few seconds later his grip on her right wrist loosened enough. She broke free and slapped him hard across the face.

  He sat back on the mat and his hand came up to find blood at the corner of his mouth. A slow smile started on his face as she edged back and watched him warily.

  The song came to an end. He got up quickly, ran a hand through his hair and sat on the weight bench with his back to her.

  A minute of silence ensued, before he said quietly, "I love you."

  She stood. "You have a funny way of showing it."

  Elbows on his knees, he leaned forward and sighed. "I haven't had much practice."

  She left him alone then, and ran down the hall to her bedroom.

  CHAPTER TEN

  "You Catholics don't ask Jesus for forgiveness, you just ask the priest all the time." Jake puffed on his cigar as he, Lila and Karl sat in the large dining room sipping brandy after dinner. "An' there's not a Purgatory either."

  Lila's smile was tight, as she replied, "Beg to differ."

  "Hell," Karl said, "you guys always differ. I can't remember a time when you didn't." He was in a foul mood, and sat clenching and unclenching his fist on a napkin.

  They heard loud rock music and thumps coming from upstairs.

  "What do you suppose they're doing up there?" Jake asked with a grin.

  "What we haven't done in years," Lila replied sarcastically as she lit a cigarette.

  Karl's frown grew deeper. As always, the thought of his parents having intercourse made him physically sick, and bile rose up in his throat.

  "Not for lack of trying," Jake responded, eying her in a way that made Karl furious.

  A smile quirked on Lila's lips, as she and Jake watched each other across the table, oblivious to Karl's presence.

  Had they always been this way? thought Karl. Or, had he just not noticed? He preferred them fighting to the sexual banter and heated looks he saw now.

  "You know what they're doin' Lila," Jake said finally, puffing on his cigar. "It's fornication, and a sin. You know sex should be reserved for marriage."

  "When did that ever stop Meg?" Karl said bitterly. "She's already disgraced the family. What's another notch on her belt?"

  Lila looked at him sternly. "Don't even go there, Karl. God's forgiven her, why can't you?"

  The rock music stopped suddenly. There was a deadly quiet in the house. Karl, Lila and Jake exchanged looks before Karl said sarcastically, "Must have been a quicky."

  A humming sound enveloped the room, before the sideboard with glasses and decanters of liquor moved out three inches then banged up and down.

  Jake, who sat next to it, jumped up and ran over to grab the back of Lila's chair.

  The sideboard banged up then down again with such force, several decanters fell off and broke on the hardwood floor.

  "God almighty," Jake said softly, as the humming stopped, "what the hell?"

  But Karl noticed Lila just smiled. She was not afraid. "It's Chad," she breathed.

  "Bullshit!" Karl exclaimed, as he rose and checked the sideboard. But he found nothing, no wires or anything to indicate it was tampered with.

  "He's making his presence known," Lila continued.

  "Ma," Karl sighed patiently, "it's not Chad, all right? We buried him the other day, remember? I don't believe in ghosts and goblins. There must be an explanation. Someone's trying to make us believe in all this."

&nb
sp; "Why?" she asked calmly, as she rose and turned to face Jake. "I think he wants us to get together."

  Karl didn't ask what she meant. The look between the two of them was unmistakable. "I'll leave you two in peace," Karl said disgustedly, as he headed for the front door.

  Big Jake stood awkwardly in Lila's frilly bedroom a few minutes later. He looked around. How many times had he been allowed in this room in the past year? he asked himself. Maybe two or three. Never to do what they were going to do now.

  Sounds of the tub being emptied came to him, and he took a deep breath, relishing the womanly perfumed scent of the room.

  He took his shirt off.

  Lila came from the bathroom, tying the sash to her robe. She was too beautiful, he thought, with her red-blonde hair, blue eyes and nicely honed figure.

  She walked up to him, and ran a hand down his cheek. "Husband," she said softly, "I'm supposed to submissive, aren't I?"

  "Don't know about that," he said gruffly.

  Her hands roved down his chest, ending on his crotch. "I vaguely remember this," she whispered, "why don't I be submissive while you show it to me?"

  "God almighty woman," he breathed, "you always could get me hard in two seconds flat."

  Laughing, she moved her hands then, making him harder.

  He grasped her by the shoulders and they kissed deeply. When they broke apart, she asked, "Stomach?"

  He nodded and tore off his boots, socks, jeans and underwear, while she lay on the bed, stomach down.

  Hesitating, prodding her with a finger for a while to make sure she was ready, he entered her. Kissing her neck, he said, "Like this?"

  Her gasp and a whispered reply was all he needed. Driving into her, he held out as long as he could, but wasn't able to last as long as he would have liked.

  She stayed still, as her hands unclenched the pillow.

  They parted, and she turned over and looked at him. "Why?" she said simply.