"I was just about to wake you up."
"That smell woke me up," he walks through the decadent living room into the large kitchen," scrambled eggs, potatoes, and pancakes? Damn, you're gonna make me fat."
"You burned a lot of calories this morning," she coos.
Austin wraps his arms around her stomach and places his chin on her shoulder. They rock back and forth a few times in perfect rhythm without the guidance of music. Her brown eyes gaze into Austin's baby blues as she arches her neck to kiss him.
Moments later her attention wanders back to cooking, but Austin's brain stays in the gutter. The tips of his fingers creep up the bottom of her tank-top, settling by the sapphire ring in her belly button for a few seconds, then he slowly eases them towards her perfect breasts. Before he advances too far, Krystal slaps him with the spatula.
"You got enough lovin' this morning." She swats a second time and hits his leg. "For Christ sakes you're dick should need life support by now."
"You can give it mouth to mouth," Austin smiles.
"I could also burn it with bacon grease," she rocks the skillet back and forth. "Move real quick." she removes the frying pan from the flame and flips a pancake a few inches in the air, "check me out."
"Impressive," Austin hops on a counter behind Krystal.
"But wait, there's more!" Krystal uses her best infomercial voice. She flips the pancake a foot in the air and catches it.
"And for my finale," She flips the pancake over her shoulder and puts the pan behind her back. The buttery brown pancake eventually follows the rules of gravity and falls behind Krystal's back onto the floor.
"Five-second rule," Austin jumps off the counter and picks the pancake up off the floor.
"Eww," Krystal scrunches her nose.
"It's fine," he looks down at the pancake, "except," Austin brings the pancake close to his face and examines it, "look at this."
Krystal leans in.
Austin slaps her playfully on the face.
"Asshole," Krystal laughs.
"Even with a little dirt, it's still delicious." Austin jumps back onto the counter and devours the pancake.
"You know what else is delicious?" Krystal stirs more pancake batter in a large bowl.
"What's that?"
She puts the bowl down on the counter and loads up a spoon, arches it, and launches batter across the kitchen onto Austin's chest.
* * * * *
Three loaded weapons itch to be squeezed on Roc's coffee table.
"I got a Chopper, a Nina, and a Forty cal. Whatchu want?" The big bald gangster asks.
The two men look like little kids about to play war. Both with virgin trigger fingers. Like everyone else's first time, they're nervous, excited, and ready to bust at first sight.
"Whatchu think I want?" Billy asks. "Gimmee that A-K."
"Aiight." Roc hands Billy the gun. "But we can't get it outta here right now." Roc pulls the gun back. "Fuck it, take the forty and I'll ride wit dat nine-milly." Roc puts the AK-47 back in his coat closet for later.
"What the fuck man?" Billy shouts. "You're gonna tempt me with an assault rifle and make me settle for a fuckin' handgun?"
"If any a dem Po-lice see you wit dat chopper you gettin' taken to jail and you ain't killin' nuttin'," Roc nags.
"I'll take the forty." Billy picks up the gun and pops out the clip. "I need you to drive, I'm ridin' shotgun. As soon as I see this asshole I'm blasting."
* * * * *
"I love you," he says, "I'm so sorry. I don't know why I do it. I find a beautiful girl, we hang out, and I always end up back here." He puts his hand on top of hers. "I'm just so afraid of losing you."
Katie sits across from Curt.
Her pale skin is fragile with veins that decorate her body like Henna tattoos. A nice coat of candy apple red polish covers the corpse's chipped fingernails.
The happy couple enjoys grilled cheese and tomato soup for lunch.
"I knew you would run away so I froze you in time, now we can be together forever," he removes his napkin from the table and puts it in his lap, "they always run away.
"Emmaline left me for a seventeen-year-old busboy," Curt stirs the thick red soup and sips a spoon full. "I didn't want to believe it. She would always say she was working late, or that she picked up extra shifts.
"The entire time she was fucking him in dirty motels and honeymoon cabins," Curt dabs his mouth with another white cloth napkin, "I knew you wouldn't do that to me, Katie, neither did Reagan."
The sandwich rests between Katie's fingers. She looks like a mannequin left in out the rain too long.
"I had to lose them, but I'll never let you go." Curt takes a bite of his grilled cheese then dips it into his soup. "Why aren't you eating my love?" He looks at his post-mortem princess with a naughty glare.
"Oh, Katie," his eyes widen, "are you serious? Again? That's all you can think about."
The life-size doll smells like bug spray and Eternity by Calvin Klein. The flies circle her despite the deterrent.
Curt swallows the last bite of grill cheese and washes it down with a chilled glass of champagne, "well, I suppose just one more time."
Katie's bloated body gurgles while Curt carries her to the first place they made love. The strands of her strawberry blonde hair cover the pillow as he gently rests her corpse on the bed.
Her dead eyes stare up to heaven while the devil keeps her body in hell.
Chapter XV
Watch Your Tongue
The forty caliber pistol sits snug behind Billy's belt buckle, hidden from nervous tenants and nosy cops.
Everyone in the Bay is ancy after Tina's murder. The citizens are scared to go outside, more because of the cops than the killer.
Many of the lovely Bayside residents are drunks and junkies, or party-kids living in their first apartment.
Billy and Roc walk out of apartment 1408 and down the hall. Before they can make it out the front door, Officer Washington blocks their path. He's a regular in the complex but this is the first time the drug dealers have been up close and personal with the policeman.
"Where're you guys headed?" The officer asks. His prominent belly shows evidence of one too many free meals at the BBQ Pitt, but his black biceps insinuate grinder sandwiches aren't the only thing he lifts. "We're holding everyone here until the area's secure," Washington tells them.
"We gotta go to work," Billy does his best to quell the fire shooting through his nerves.
"Where's work?" Officer Washington's hand rests on his waist, with his right palm adjacent to his pistol.
"Pete's House of Pancakes, we're both cooks." Billy leans back on his heels.
"Where're your uniforms?" Washington stares hard, ready for a reason.
"I got 'em at my house across the street. I just came by to wake this fool up." Roc motions toward Billy. "We don't want no trouble officer, we just wanna go make burgers and fries."
"What happened?" Billy crosses his arms over his stomach to hide his gun underneath his wrists.
"Just tell your boss Tina won't be coming in for her shift today." Washington relaxes, his hand slides away from his gun.
"Her asshole son beat her up or somethin'?" Roc asks.
"Somethin' like that." Washington rolls his lips in, closes his eyes momentarily, and looks to the ground.
"Can you tell us what happened?" Roc asks.
"I can't say, my man, I probably told ya too much already." Washington's dark complexion shines underneath the Bayside light bulbs. "It's official police business, have a good day at work, though," Washington turns sideways to let Billy and Roc slide through.
Billy holds his breath when he squeezes by the officer, scared shitless. Guns are serious business in Kobe. If you get caught without a permit, especially for a handgun in the Bay, you'll do time.
Billy and Roc jog out the door to Roc's Chrysler. It's dirty as hell and has a few dents in it, but it runs, and that's all they need to find the killer with the claw.
* * * * *
"Grind it." Judd paces back and forth in his office, with Zed on the other end of his cell phone.
"Shit yeah right now!" Judd stops in front of his mahogany desk, "clues are poppin' up and we got a loose end. I'm heading to Curt's cabin with Travis now," his mind races, but his attitude is calm. The ice water continues to flow through his veins as he thumbs through Katie O'Malley's file.
"We ain't got thirty days to finish the recipe. Cut the pig's neck and let him bleed," Judd rubs his brow with the palm of his hand, "put a rush on it."
Judd shuts Katie's file. Not afraid to look, but embarrassed he let it happen again. Sometimes family isn't the most important thing. Blood is only as thick as the crime it commits. Justice matters more in the long winding road of life.
"I should be at the poker game tonight," he tells his younger brother, "but not until late, I'm gonna need a couple stiff drinks after this."
* * * * *
"Am I being held for something?" Quinn taps a steady rhythm on the interrogation table. The florescent light flickers.
"Sorry Quinn, Judd said to just get you a burger and that's it." Officer Bert Weston sits with a pad and paper across from the long haired boy.
"Why can't I have my cell phone?"
"Look kid, don't bust my balls on this. Just tell me what you want on your burger. I'm sure we'll get you somewhere safe and you'll get your property back, but for right now, you gotta stay put. There's a psycho on the loose lookin' to kill you," Bert leans in. "but given the circumstances, you're looking to kill him too."
"Lettuce, tomato, pickles, ranch, and onion straws," Quinn rattles off with a smirk.
* * * * *
"I don't get it, Marley." Detective Daniels sips a caramel latte in the passenger seat of a Chrysler Police Cruiser. "You grew up in the Bay, was it always this bad?"
"Never like this." Detective Marley's bright white teeth shine in the September sun, the cool breeze caresses his brown arm from the outside of his window. "Sure weed was around, coke was there if people wanted it but never crack, and certainly never this heroin bullshit they got out there now.
"It wasn't until they provided government housing that there was anything like that. Sure, some of those people deserve the free room and board, but for the most part all they do is drink and get high. Shit, the boyfriends and baby-daddy's are what we really have issues with."
"Should call 'em storks." Daniels cracks a smile.
"Oh yeah?"
"They make the baby and then fly outta there."
"You's a fool, Daniels," Marley laughs, "we still workin' the coffee house case? Or should we look for this Skaggs guy?"
"I think they're in it together. We find one, we find them both," Detective Daniels says.
"We'll stop by the Manor to see if Akmed has any info," Marley says, "cruise to the Watering Hole to see if Skaggs' has been there in the last twenty four hours, and do some questioning at Aces for lunch."
"Marley, I can't understand why you go to that Club."
"It's a lead," Marley makes puts his blinker on and makes a right turn, "what am I supposed to do? Ignore Aces because a titty or two is out in the wind?"
"Sure it's a lead," Daniels stares out the passenger window, "but you know damn good and well why you're going in there. It ain't for the free buffet. All those perverts lurking around has to make you think twice about grabbing a plate of food."
"You ever try their bourbon chicken? Shit, titties and tater tots are two of my favorite things. Why should a pervert make that any different?"
"You're something else," Daniels sips his caramel coffee, "are you seeing any of those girls off the clock?"
"I sometimes give them a ride home after they close," Marley raises his eyebrows.
"Such a gentleman," Daniels says.
"Especially when I tuck them in." Marley smiles from ear to ear.
The police car slides into the Watering Hole parking lot. It is in desperate need of repair. Marley avoids potholes and finds a spot near the front.
The Watering Hole is a popular bar for junkies and hustlers. It used to be a nice place, but after the sheriff got murdered in ninety-three the place went downhill.
The owner ran cheap drink specials, had live music out back on the patio, but he could never pull it out of the red.
The owner finally settled for the degenerates in the nearby ghetto to keep the lights on, selling cheap drinks to even cheaper women.
Detective Daniels opens the door for his partner and they go inside. A couple afternoon boozers are bellied up to the bar, but for the most part the place is empty. A pretty young lady stands behind the bar scrolling through her cell phone.
"Afternoon," Daniels calls out.
The pretty girl looks up, her hair and makeup are perfect. Her tank top reveals just enough to help her pay the rent, but not enough to make her look like a slut.
"Hey offiers," the young girl smiles with glossy lips, "what can I getcha?"
"Six shots of tequilla," Marley jokes, " just kiddin' darlin', we just wanna ask a couple quick questions."
She tenses up and her face goes flush.
"Don't worry," Daniels says, "we just want to know if you've seen this guy." Daniels hands her a picture of Rupert 'Skaggs' McDermott.
"Skaggs?" She asks.
"Yeah, you know him?" Marley places his hand on the bar and leans in closer to the brunette.
"Sure," she says, "Squirrely guy that hangs out with that creep, Leroy. The fucker never tips."
"When's the last time you saw him?" Marley asks.
"Bout a week ago," she says, "why? Did he do somethin' wrong? Should I be lookin' out for him?"
"No, darlin'," Marley says with a smooth voice, "we just want to ask him some questions.
"Thanks, ma'am," Daniels says.
Marley hangs back a moment flirting until Daniels opens the door and clears his throat.
"Thanks, Mindy," Marley waves with a piece of paper in his hand, "I'll give you a call a little later."
"How 'bout you just stop back by? I'll be here until nine," she says insistently.
"I may just have to do that, sweetheart."
Daniels shakes his head and the two detectives exit the dive bar.
* * * * *
Travis and Judd turn down a narrow path from the main road. The trees hang over the police cruiser, masking the light of day with orange and yellow leaves.
"I know you trust Curt and all. I don't wanna think your brother did it either, but I really..." Travis wipes the sides of his mouth.
"I don't give a shit about your really. This is just like any other case. He's innocent until proven guilty."
An uncomfortable silence turns the air sour. Travis trips over his train of thought to let the words out, "I heard Quinn."
"I know," Judd sucks on a lump of tobacco and keeps his eyes on the road.
"Why'd he say that?" Travis asks. "Why'd he say you killed Leroy Brown?" He watches Judd casually listen to his accusation.
"You woulda known if I did," Judd gives Travis a subtle glance before spitting some tobacco juice into an empty plastic bottle.
"It was your shift, Judd, a-lotta things point to it," Travis digs deeper. He doesn't want to strike oil. Judd is the backbone of the town, but the truth has to be released, good or bad.
"You saying I'm a suspect? For murder?" Judd asks.
"We've been through a lot, you and I," Travis says, "some really fucked up stuff. I don't think you've snapped. And I don't think you're a suspect, but somethin' don't add up."
"You're right," Judd says, "but that doesn't mean I whacked a junkie."
"Then what happened the night you were on patrol?"
"I was at the BBQ Pitt watching for drunks, like I normally do, keepin' honest people honest, and makin' Ted's cab company richer by the minute. I stopped in the movie theater to talk to Charley for a bit, cruised through the Bay, and then at about midnight I parked at the Pitt."
"Why d
o you think this Skaggs guy would lie?" Travis pushes, still walking on egg shells but cracking a little more with every step.
"He ripped his momma's head off with a hatchet," Judd's voice raises a bit, "it's a bit hard to psychoanalyze the mind of a guy like that, having never met him before. I'm having a harder time wondering why you're investing so much into the thought that he's right, more than why he said it."
"Sorry Judd."
"I don't care if ya speak, Travis. It don't bother me if you got questions," Judd says, "I'm your sheriff, and your friend. I didn't kill that boy. Take that how you want to.
"I ain't never had nothin' to hide, if you wanna stop and discuss it over lunch, fine, but right now I need your game face on. We gotta focus on Katie O'Malley. Underwood and Struttsworth are coverin' the coffee caper. At least until we make sure this little girl's safe, then we can hunt that prick down. Crystal?"
"Sure thing, boss. Crystal clear."
* * * * *
Skaggs lies against the cave wall one click away from check-out time. His breathing slows down, his pupils shrink, and his heart beats less and less.
He sees the outline of a man with boots on. With the little brain reaction he has left, he imagines someone's going to pull the plug on his miserable existence. Send him to the afterlife.
God may still take me.
"You alright, kiddo?" The blurry vision asks. "Maybe you should drink some of this."
The mysterious man places a small vial of liquid on Skaggs' lips and slowly tips it up. After a few seconds Skaggs starts to slurp, the drink has the same consistency of codeine cough syrup, but the flavor tastes like alkaline. After the junkie ingests the whole bottle, his brain bubbles with endorphins.
"You should feel some changes," the mysterious man says, "I'm willin' to bet that claw heals up real nice, "The man kneels down next to Skaggs, "you know, in the past, I've got up close and personal with my creations, let 'em drink straight from my veins."
The man takes the vial from Skaggs' lips, "I usually fed them after I got my taste. Now I play it a bit safer. Sleep tight, and don't let the bed bugs bite."
* * * * *
Travis and Judd stroll up the gravel driveway to Curt's cabin door. They knock a few times without an answer.
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