One Deadly Sister

by Rod Hoisington

  He shifted in the chair. “Been looking at them.”

  “Should stay away from new truck dealers. Not call attention to yourself. Hope the money isn’t in your house.”

  “Remember police got the damn warrant and searched my house. Every little thing I owned throwed out on the floor. Every room, everything, out on the floor, then they walk away like not their problem. You hear any shit about ten grand being found at my place?”

  “Nasty mouth. Well, I told you to bury it. Bury it and don’t go near it for six months. Did you bury it?”

  “It’s safe.” None of her damn business where it is. Now shut up woman. “I’m leaving, Mrs. Dellin. Don’t think I’ll be doing bugs for you anymore either. Think we should stay away from each other.” Not all of that came out clearly, but he knew she understood.

  “What’s your hurry? Finish your drink.”

  He drank it and stood, his hand feeling around some before he found the back of the chair to lean on.

  “Stick around. I’m going in the pool now. Why don’t you join me for a moonlight swim? You know what skinny dipping means?”

  He made a small nervous laugh. What the hell she talking about, like she’s really gonna get naked in the pool with him. But that would be something.

  “After I’ll make us some coffee, you shouldn’t be driving.”

  “Naw, drunk a lot more than this and always got home.” He helped himself to one more drink just to show the dumb woman. But he doesn’t want to hang around there, got big money in his pocket, knows just who to find and where to find her. He’ll say how much and this time the flashy woman won’t laugh at him and say, ‘More than you got, shithead.’ Let’s see how fast she spreads ‘em now.

  He watched Loraine kick off her shoes. She tossed off her headband and her long red hair fell free. Then she stared right at him while she untied her robe letting it hang loose in front. It flashed open as she turned and walked out onto the pool deck. In the light from the porch, he could see her shake off the robe.

  Sonafabitch, just took her goddamn robe off pretty as you please with me standing right here. Bare back too, no bra. Must have been walking around here talking all that time, jugs just hanging loose under there. Look at that little white skirt. Never realized her ass stuck out cute like that. Maybe call to her, she’ll turn around and put on a show.

  “Mrs. Dellin?” His voice was weak.

  “Come on,” she said, without turning. “Bring the bottle if you want.”

  He stumbled out after her. Yeah, she wants me over there, gonna let me see those babies. Walk right up to her with her damn titties sticking right out. Sonafabitch, all the way to Vegas never seen nothing like this.

  Over at the edge of the pool now, in the shadows. Look, she’s grinning at me. Damn woman wants to mess around. Better than some goddamn porn. Wiggling around in that tiny skirt. That gonna come off too? Get it off, woman. Ten thousand dollars, to see what you got under there. He say that out loud? Not sure. Just kidding lady. Yeah, the ten thousand. He patted his pocket. Where’s she now—bending over—titties hanging down—saying something about clothes—can’t see. Titties—money—dumb woman. On the grass—coveralls stuck—can’t help you—get them off—can’t get up—can’t walk—.

  When Barner hit the water, he came out of the darkness. But it wasn’t right. Something heavy. Get off woman. Heavy clamped tight on his back. Bare legs locked around. Two hands tearing at his hair pushing down. Don’t! Don’t! Can’t breathe. Head held under. Stop! Head pushed down, again and again. Stop it. Can’t shake her off. Choking. Get head up. Damn woman, strong, doesn’t stop—clamped on—just keeps going and going. Please, please….

  Darkness…nothing.

  Loraine swam to the ladder and climbed out. She found her robe and took the gun out—a bit of insurance in case he came at her, but she hadn’t needed it at all. He was weaker than she had expected, but had put up a lot of fight for a drunk. She stood watching his floating naked body. No movement. He was dead. Just the way she planned. Some booze, some bare skin, and he folded.

  She took the Ziploc bag of money out of his coveralls and arranged his clothes as though he had undressed for a sneaky midnight swim. Taking off his stinking shoes and socks had been worse than getting him out of his baggy underwear. What a filthy person to touch, to undress. She’d have to drain and clean the pool as soon as the accident investigators were through. Always something.

  She picked up her robe and hurried inside, she needed a shower to wash away the stench. When she was drying off after the long shower, the thought returned—he had touched her body. She had clamped onto his naked back like a leech with her legs locked under him, her hands clutching his dirty hair. He had squirmed and his body rubbed against her, and he had grabbed her legs with his grubby hands trying to get free. That man’s hands on her bare legs. It nauseated her to think about it. The tragedy of this whole affair was the necessity of touching him. She shuttered. She sat down quickly until the wave of sickness passed. She stepped back in and washed her hair and body a second time.

  Then down in the kitchen, wrapped in her robe, she made a Martini and went to her favorite overstuffed-leather chair in the study.

  Still early, before nine. Tired already. Need to think about talking to the police in the morning. I went to bed after the eleven o’clock news, Officer, and it was quiet then. He must have snuck over here after a night of drinking. I’ve chased him out of my pool before. I must have slept through the whole thing. This morning I saw his van here and looked around. Sorry I wasn’t awake to help him. I feel guilty, I might have saved him if I’d only known. To think it happened right here in my pool. Tragic isn’t it. Such a nice man. He wasn’t very old was he? Is there anything I can do? Did he have a family?

  She needed to celebrate. She went to the kitchen and made a second Martini. When she had settled back down in her familiar chair, she made a silent toast to her plan. Her getting-rich-off-Al plan. It had worked. She had felt no touch of remorse when at last she heard the news he was dead.

  Al had brought it on himself. Everything he had done to her over the years, she was back at him now. She was back at him for giving her only the house, the car, the stocks, and that piddling amount of monthly alimony. Since he made it big after the divorce, why shouldn’t she have more? She took him back to court but Al had the bigshot lawyers and the judge in his pocket.

  Her plan needed Ray Reid or someone just as simple. Couldn’t just send the exterminator out to shoot Al. That’s no plan, they would zero in on him immediately. She didn’t want the police hunting all over for a suspect, and somehow blundering onto the truth. Give them someone, hand them Ray Reid. Steer him to Al’s apartment and he’ll make an ass out of himself because he doesn’t know what to say, what to believe. Plus he thinks she’s lying naked somewhere waiting for him. The incompetent police, as expected, went for the stranger in town.

  She had to give Sonny Barner credit, he pulled it off. She thought it brainless to fly off to Vegas the same day he shoots Al. Fortunately the police didn’t make too much of it. People like him are always in trouble with the law and are smart enough to hold together if questioned. Other than that, he was just another worthless human being as far as she could tell.

  At first, she was concerned about the deal. First, she offered him five up front and five after he kills Al. He said he’d have to think about it. Started in with excuses and talked about the complications. Wouldn’t be as easy as she was saying, and on and on. Wanted more. She needed him; so okay, twenty thousand total, ten down and ten after he kills Al. That sounded good to him.

  Now she had just saved herself the second ten thousand and eliminated the one person who could bring her down. A man like him doesn’t deserve to have that kind of money. What do people like that need money for anyway? There’s nothing to buy in this little town. They don’t know how to use it properly. They spend it on their junk. Barner would have blown through all the money in no time and then be back for
more. Well, he won’t now, and now there was one less foul-smelling man in the world.

  Then a thought startled her and she sat up straight. The money, where was it? Did she put it back in the freezer? She hurried to the kitchen to check. Yes, it’s in there, but—oh my God—the revolver was sitting on the counter where she placed it while handling the money.

  Had she forgotten anything else? The porch, what about the porch? She went out on the porch. She could still smell Barner. She switched on the overhead fan. That man would stink up the whole house if she let him.

  The Chivas and the two empty glasses still sat in the middle of the table. Careless, damn careless. In addition, she spotted her headband and shoes near the door where she had tossed them when she went out to the pool.

  All that incriminating evidence was sitting out because she was in a rush to go upstairs and wash him off her. If someone had walked to the back of the house, the gun on the counter and the glasses on the table could have been seen through the glass doors. That gave her a chill. Damn! Little things can trip you up, some little overlooked thing. Even so, she was still okay, she was sure no one had been around. She got out the Lysol and wiped down the table and chairs. Then wet mopped the porch floor with Lysol. Disgusting, the things she must go through to get her money.

  Keep thinking, his prints are on the glass and possibly still on the gun. She washed the glasses. She carefully wiped the gun and the Ziploc bag of money. No prints or DNA could survive Lysol. Did he touch the Chivas bottle? She couldn’t remember. She washed that too. She stood thinking, had she overlooked anything else? She’d check again in the morning. She locked the doors and went to bed.

  She slept through untroubled. Then it was light outside. She walked to the end of the upstairs hall, pushed aside the curtain, and looked down on the backyard. The pool appeared empty. The body would now be on the bottom. The sooner she calls the police the better.

  She went downstairs. Everything appeared okay. She took out the money. How does she explain why she’s holding ten thousand dollars? Cash is never necessary these days. She took the gun out of the drawer. Must find a better place for this until she can toss it in the river.

  She’d have preferred to toss the gun and hide the money before the police came but didn’t dare to leave the house. How would she explain backing out past his van, and not reporting a body in her pool? Wait until the police leave, there will be time. She put the money and gun in the upstairs safe. No reason for police to search the house because of an accidental drowning. She’d have their asses on a plate if they tried, take it to the Supreme Court.

  Ready to phone? Recheck everything first. She walked through the house just to be certain. Upstairs was of no concern, but she scrutinized the appearance anyway. Leave the bed unmade, as though too upset to do anything after finding the body. Check the study. Check the kitchen. Check the porch.

  The porch worried her. Even one partial fingerprint would demand an explanation. She got the Lysol out and wiped down the table and chairs again. She turned on the overhead fan to dissipate the disinfectant’s odor.

  She stood at the porch door and surveyed the pool scene. His clothes appeared okay, strewn around as if he undressed in a hurry. She couldn’t see the bottom of the pool from the porch. She wanted to walk out to the pool to be certain the body was there, but of course, it would be there. Light dew covered the patio and walkway. If she walked to the pool, she would leave footprints, would that be plausible? Yes, that fits. Her story was she awoke in the morning and was surprised to see his van in her driveway; she had spotted the clothing and walked out to the pool.

  So then, she did walk out. There on the bottom was his naked ugly body that would already be decomposing in her pool, of all places. Disgusting. Damn him anyway.

  When she noticed his van parked at the side of the house, she had another thought. Where are his keys? She hadn’t thought about the keys. Need she worry? Did he bring them in the house? Would the police find them in the house? Tried to think, did he have them at the table? No, didn’t think so, she would have found them when she cleaned.

  Must think about her story, where would his keys be if he came to the house in the dark to sneak a swim. Possibly in his truck. She walked to his truck in the driveway. Couldn’t clearly see the ignition switch and mustn’t touch the door handle. Keys must be in his coveralls. She didn’t dare to disturb the clothing again, might leave some small clue. Yes, the keys had to be his pocket. That’s okay, that’s logical. Anything else?

  Okay, show time. How emotional should she seem for the police? Not emotional at all, she decided. She had no emotional involvement in his life or death, she barely knew the man. Perhaps Chip Goddard would respond, he seemed easy to deal with.

  Get it over with. She punched 911.

  At that moment, her plan started going downhill. Then it crashed and burned.

  Two police units were already there when Detective Goddard arrived and carefully walked around the house and the grounds. He asked her a few questions and told her to stay inside the house with the officer. Said he had to leave but would be right back. Loraine was furious, she had shopping to do. He went out to the officers at the pool, told them to treat the entire house and grounds as a crime scene. He told them to just stand there and keep their mouths shut. He called for CSI and left. He didn’t return for almost two hours,

  He returned with a search warrant. Later he left with the gun, the money, and Loraine Dellin in handcuffs.

  The following week her new attorney from West Palm Beach stated he was confident that when all the facts were known his client would be completely exonerated.

  He explained that guns are routinely kept in safes so the presence of a gun was irrelevant. Further, his client had recently sold twenty thousand of securities and obtained cash. She had already spent ten thousand on sundry items and the ten thousand dollars cash found in her safe in the Ziploc bag was simply mad money and insignificant for a woman of her means.

  The attorney also stated that CSI had failed to find any of the victim’s prints or DNA in the house.

  However, her attorney responded with “No comment” when asked how traces of Pyrethroid, a powerful scorpion killer used by professionals—that were on the victim’s coveralls—were also detected on the money inside a Ziploc bag in the bedroom safe.

  Chapter 36

  Ray was already at the downtown café when Tammy came in. She waved, walked directly to him, and kissed him full on the lips before sliding into the booth opposite him. “Aren’t Chip and Sandy supposed to meet us here?” She waited a moment before making a questioning smile, because he hadn’t spoken. He was just staring at her; thoughts of their night together still filled his mind.

  He remembered falling asleep facing her, their knees touching and her hand under his cheek. Later in a dreamy twist of awareness, he sensed her warm body away from him and moving about in the room. He felt cold and tried to wake but pieces of darkness were shifting around like a blurry puzzle. He was lying naked on his hard cell bunk; his stiff jumpsuit was crumpled under his head for a harsh pillow. He was cold and couldn’t move. Some enormous man in a uniform was standing over him and pointing. He heard the sharp metal clang of the jail cell door. And then, her bare total softness returned, she was warm. He felt her reach out and touch him and her softness enveloped him, and he passed back into bliss with only a fading image of the jail cell.

  He remembered awakening in the unfamiliar bedroom wondering if it was true where he was, and true what had happened between them. She was on her side facing him with her breasts showing over the top of the sheet. She saw that he was awake, smiled, and stretched out a perfect leg toward him. Then she raised the corner of the sheet like a theater curtain, to offer him her lovely body again. For him, there was nothing else anywhere.

  That was two nights ago. After last night’s talk with Sandy, the incredible happening with Tammy would be remembered sadly.

  He heard Tammy’s voice ordering iced tea.
He blinked hard and saw her across the booth table. The waitress was hovering.

  “Oh yes, iced tea is fine,” he said.

  “Turned out really wild the other night, didn’t it?” She puckered her lips and fluttered her eyelashes like a silent screen star.

  He had to laugh. “You’re a devil.” He would never kiss those lips again.

  “Well, you know where I live.” She reached over and squeezed his hand.

  He couldn’t say what he needed to say with her touching him. He gently took his hand away. To cover the awkward moment he reached for a napkin. “Chip had some sort of call, and Sandy is packing for Philly. They’ll be along.”

  “Did you see the paper, Ray? Thank heaven the long Park Beach nightmare is over. Imagine Loraine paying Sonny Barner to kill Al and then drowning him to cover it up.”

  “Well, Loraine hasn’t confessed and all the evidence isn’t in yet.”

  “I never cared much for her, but I’m certainly shocked she’d do it. I’m so happy for you, Ray. Now they must drop the charges.”

  He wished she wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t certain he could go through with it if she was smiling. “Sandy and I had a long talk with Chip last night. He was confused about an old boyfriend of yours, the sheriff’s deputy you dated. You told him the guy’s name was Carl Richards.” It helped to talk down to the table and not directly at her.

  “I don’t remember what I told Chip.”

  “Well, that’s what was recorded. He went looking for him, and found him working in Georgia. Except his name wasn’t Carl Richards, it was Chet Richman. Chip thought for a minute you were trying to mislead him.”

  “Richards, Richman, potato, potahto, how many dates have I had since high school?”