Satan's Breath

by Temple Madison

  “Hello?”

  “Mr. Sanders,” the jovial voice began, “this is Chief Parnell in Savannah. I know you’ve been following the case, and thought you might like to know the good news. The semen tests on Barry Schorr came back positive, and I’ve just sent my two best men out to pick him up. I’m just about to call the L.A. police, and then go out and get a celebratory drink.”

  “Chief, that’s good work. I’ll call Blaze and let her know. I don’t suppose there’s any reason for me to come down there now, is there?”

  “That’s up to you, Mr. Sanders, but there’s really no need. We’ll just arrest him and follow the usual procedures. Now that we have the proof we need, he’s ours.”

  “Fine. Thanks for letting me know.”

  “You bet.”

  After he called the L.A. police, the chief suddenly felt tired, thankful that this nightmare was at last over. He leaned back in his squeaky chair and covered his face with his hands while exhaling a loud, tired sigh. When he finally looked up, he saw Juliette Marshall, the best female cop on the force, standing in the doorway. She stood there in her blues, her face free of makeup, and her limp blonde hair crawling out of the pinned-up style common for women in uniform. She looked down at the chief as if he were a bad little boy.

  “Why don’t you call it a day, Chief? You look beat.”

  “Yeah, I know. It has been a bitchin’ day.” The phone gave a shrill ring, and the chief grabbed it. “Yeah, Chief Parnell here.”

  “Chief, this is Samuels. We’re here at Schorr’s apartment, but nobody’s home.”

  “How do you know? Did you go in?”

  “Didn’t have to. The landlady said he went out about seven and she hasn’t seen him since. I guess we’ll just have to wait, unless you want us to go out looking.”

  “Cruise around the Darktown District just on the chance that he might be there. Just for a while, though. If you don’t see anything, go back to his apartment, station yourself out of sight, and wait.”

  “Sounds good to me. We’re on our way.”

  Parnell banged the phone down. “Hell, they can’t find Schorr.”

  “They’ll find him, Chief. Why don’t you go home and get some sleep?”

  “Sleep, hell! I won’t be able to sleep until that creep is knee deep in prison shit.”

  “Then go out and get a beer. You need to relax before you bust a gut.”

  “What in hell is wrong with you, Julie? You know I can’t drink while I’m on duty.”

  “Then get a Coke, for God’s sake. The point is to relax.”

  “I don’t know.” He frowned down at the work on his desk.

  “Chief, your nerves are strung so tight, you’re singin’ soprano. If you don’t do something, you’re going to break, then you won’t be any good to anybody.”

  “Yeah,” he sighed, “I guess you’re right.” As he got up, he gave a tired grunt that comes with being middle aged. Grabbing his jacket, he said, “Julie, if anything happens, and I mean anything, call me on my cell.”

  “Sure. Anything to get rid of you,” she said, her hands resting on her thick pistol belt as if she were getting ready to draw on him.

  “I’ll be down at the Blue Note.” He looked at her, his eyes sharp and narrow. “If I come back here and find out—”

  “Chief, you’re acting like we can’t handle—”

  “Julie, the only way I’m going to be able to relax is for you to do as I ask. Otherwise, I’m gonna stay around here and drive everyone, as well as myself, crazy.”

  “All right! Sheee, what a pain you are!”

  The chief reluctantly put on his jacket while reprimanding her with his glaring eyes. He shuffled through the office slowly, shouting orders as he went. Just as he was about to go through the door, he pointed his finger in Julie’s face. “You remember what I told you. If you even think about going against my orders, I’ll—”

  She rolled her eyes. “Chief, will you get your butt outta here?”

  After the door closed, and the chief was making his way down the hall, Juliette called out in a loud voice, “Hey, the chief’s gone, now we can have that party!”

  The chief smiled and immediately yelled back, “I heard that!”

  Juliette pushed her playful face around the door. “You still here?”

  * * * *

  Barry Schorr sat drinking in a crowded bar when the bartender, noticing the time, reached over and clicked on the radio. The whole place buzzed while the commercials were on, but when the familiar music began, the whole room became silent.

  “Wake up, Savannah, Blaze Alexander is here, and boys, am I hot!”

  “You sure as hell are, sweetheart,” someone called out above the wolf calls.

  “Hear that horn in the background, boys? Doesn’t that slide trombone give you some wild ideas? Well, we’re gonna have some fun, just you and me, so stick around, big boy. By the way, I’m here ‘til dawn. I hope you’ll stay and keep me company.”

  She laughed low and throaty. “Why don’t we start by getting real close? Mmmmm, that feels good, sweetie, now put your hand right here and squeeeeze! That’s right. Ohhhh, that’s so good. Don’t tell anyone I told you, but no one can do it like you, sugar.”

  Barry looked around and saw everyone hanging on to every word she said. “Bitch!” he muttered. “She’s gettin’ friggin’ rich and I don’t have a pot to piss in, but a lot she cares.”

  “Hey, what do you think she looks like?” a long-haired man with an earring called out to the crowd.

  “Don’t know,” a slurring voice at the other end of the bar yelled. “But with a voice like that, she’s bound to be hot.”

  The earring man looked around. “Has anyone here ever seen her?”

  “Redhead,” Barry muttered in a drunken voice.

  The guy at the next table looked at Barry, and then stood up. “Hey!” he yelled out to the others while pointing to Barry. “This guy says she’s a redhead.”

  The crowd of faces looked around at Barry. Urging themselves toward him to hear more, someone asked, “You’ve seen her? Is she good looking?”

  Barry saw his chance to be a big man. “Hell yes, she’s good looking. I know her.”

  “You do, huh?” one man said, casting Barry a skeptical look.

  Barry sat forward, a twisted smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, she’s hot, all right. Cute little figure. Big tits, and tight little ass. Works out a lot—” he raised a suggestive eyebrow, “—naked!”

  Suddenly the place was filled with whistles and laughter.

  “And can she do it!” Barry yelled over the crowd. “You think she’s hot on the radio, you should get her in bed!”

  “Good little piece of ass, huh?” the man at the next table asked, then looked at Barry suspiciously. “Just how do you know her?”

  “I used to be the station manager in L.A. where she worked before she came here.” Barry put out his hand. “Barry Schorr’s the name.”

  “Barry Schorr, huh?” the man replied as he took his hand, and with the other hand, reached behind his back and pulled out a clanking mass of metal lightning quick. He slapped a pair of handcuffs on Barry’s outstretched wrist before Barry knew what was happening. “Glad to know you, Barry Schorr. My name is Chief Randy Parnell of the Savannah Police Department. You have the right to remain silent…”

  Chapter 8

  Blaze was knee deep in closet clutter when the phone rang. Looking over at it, a feeling of dread speared through her, and she hesitated a moment. She stood perfectly still, staring in terror at the thing that rang incessantly. Just then, the answering machine intercepted the call.

  “Blaze, it’s Scott. I just wanted…”

  Hearing Scott’s voice, Blaze quickly dropped everything and ran over to pick up the phone. “Scott!” she said loudly into the phone, and then began coughing.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, just got my lungs full of dust. I’m cleaning out closets. That’s why the machine got
you.”

  “You won’t mind being disturbed when you hear what I’ve got to tell you.”

  “Yeah? What is it?” She looked in the mirror at her smudged up face.

  “Barry Schorr is in custody. They picked him up a couple of nights ago at the Blue Note Bar not far from the police station. I would have called you sooner, but sometimes I have a hard time pinning you down. If you’re not working, you’re sleeping, and…”

  “I get the idea. Now, what the hell happened?”

  “Well, it was a funny situation. The chief just happened to be there, and Barry began spouting off about you. The chief questioned him about how he knew you, and stupid Barry, trying to be a big man, just let it all hang out. The chief nabbed him, and that’s that.”

  “What a relief! Did they get a confession, or what?”

  “They found a murdered prostitute down in a section called Darktown.”

  “Yeah.” Blaze’s voice suddenly turned sad. “I heard about that.”

  Well, the chief noticed that it was the same MO, so they took a sample of the semen from the dead woman, had it tested against the semen from Melanie’s skirt, and it came back positive. Now that they have him in custody, they’re trying to get a full confession, so they can tighten the noose around his neck.”

  “I guess that means you don’t have to come down, right?”

  “Yeah, I guess it does. I didn’t expect it to be so easy. If I came down now, I’d just be in the way. Barry’s caught, and all is well with the world.”

  “That’s too bad. I was looking forward to seeing you.”

  “Blaze, honey, how can you stand it down there in the slow-moving south? You’re a big city, bright-lights kind of girl. Zipping around here a while, there a while. I expected you to be bored silly by now. I can’t believe you’ve gotten comfortable buried down there away from all the excitement of L.A.”

  “Good grief, Scott, it’s not as bad as all that. Before you know it, I’ll be back in L.A. You just be sure to keep a candle burning for me, okay?”

  “Okay,” Scott exhaled loudly. “Since I can’t talk you into it, I’ll just have to harass some of my other clients. Take care, sweetie, and I’ll talk to you soon.”

  “Yeah, bye, and thanks for the news.”

  Blaze put the phone down reluctantly and stroked it gently as a feeling of melancholy surged inside her for her agent and friend. She was a little sad that he wouldn’t be coming down, but was glad there was no longer a reason to. Sliding her gaze back over to the closet, she inhaled deeply and plunged back into all the dust with renewed energy now that Barry was behind bars.

  She worked quickly. When she finally had everything bagged up that she was throwing out, she gave one more look around and happened to glimpse the dim outline of something in the back. Squinting through the dust, she saw what looked like the remnants of an old calendar that she’d almost missed. Since she knew it wasn’t hers, she figured it must have belonged to the previous tenant.

  Taking a deep breath, she fought her way through the dust and picked it up. She was just about to throw it in the bag along with the rest of the garbage when she noticed it was a pinup calendar. Her eyes widened when she saw page after page of gorgeous men in swimming trunks. She needed a break, so she decided to look it over.

  Grabbing a bottle of sparkling water from the fridge, she leaned over the counter between the kitchen and the living room and began flipping the pages—until suddenly her fingers came to a dead stop.

  Her mouth dropped open, and she stared.

  Her gaze suddenly shifted, looking up to see the month of July etched in large bold letters across the top. “My God,” she whispered, a frown suddenly creasing her brow. She brought the picture up closer to her squinting eyes and brushed the remaining dust away as she continued to stare at it. “I can’t believe it,” she muttered.

  The man in the picture looked exactly like Erik Grant. He was standing on a beach in a little bikini that barely stretched itself across his ample anatomy.

  It can’t be, she thought, then looked at the date to make sure the calendar wasn’t several years old. “Eight months,” she murmured. Even though it was last year’s calendar, July was only eight months past. She looked back at the picture. There was no mistaking it. It was the same thick, wavy blond hair blowing in the wind, the same lips, eyes, the same handsome face that she saw almost daily. Anticipation slowly began to grow in her as her eyes scanned down, and read the caption under the picture…

  Our summer fun begins with Erik Grant standing under a blue Savannah sky on the Fourth of July. Hey girls! Who’ll be looking at fireworks with this sexy hunk of southern charm around?

  This is not possible. She quickly flipped the calendar over, and saw Beach Hunks written in large letters on the front. All the men that had a month dedicated to them inside were grouped together, smiling into the camera. Blaze looked at his smiling face, so stunned she couldn’t seem to move. She recognized his legs, his incredible build, and even his crowded suit from when she snuck into his room and saw him from only a few feet away. She looked up from the calendar, staring straight ahead in shock, thinking of her very own words.

  Handsome enough to be a male model.

  Isn’t that what she’d said, or at least thought? Hadn’t she even wondered how his magnificent body had escaped being the subject of a snapping camera?

  She looked down at the laughing picture again, and it was easy to visualize him in front of that camera smiling, posing, the wind blowing through his blond hair, his muscles rippling on a southern beach, and becoming tanned under southern sunshine.

  My God, what had happened? What was the catastrophic event in his life that took him from being a highly paid male model to barely scratching out a living as a janitor at a radio station? And what about his stuttering? Was he faking it, or could he have had some kind of sickness or accident, causing damage to his brain?

  She reached up and her dusty hand touched her lips. She knew one thing about Erik. He hadn’t forgotten how to kiss, and hopefully, how to make love. A sinful smile tugged at her lips when she thought of how much fun it would be to teach him all over again. All at once, the memory of the kiss became cold when she remembered the dark cloud on her horizon—her uncle Ralph.

  * * * *

  Across town, Greg had Erik by the collar slamming him up against the wall. “From now on, you go home at quitting time, understand? No more hanging around while Blaze is here. How many times do I have to tell you to stay away from her, you stupid creep?”

  “I l-love…”

  “Oh, the dummy’s in love, huh? Well that’s too friggin’ bad, genius. You’re going to stay away, or you’ll find yourself without a job. Got it, nutso?”

  Erik watched Greg as he turned to go back into his office. His chest heaved with unleashed hostility. He wanted to strike out at Greg so bad, he could taste it, but he held himself back. He didn’t care about this stupid job, but he did care about seeing Blaze again, so he let Greg push him around, pretending he was a scared coward. He stood in the shadows, his blond hair hiding the sinister sparkle in his eyes as he continued to stare at Greg.

  When Greg reached his office door, he turned and looked at Erik, smirking at what he thought was a coward cringing in the corner. “Remember what I said, creep.” He glanced around at the full trashcans. “Your work is lousy enough without you walking around like a zombie all day from lack of sleep.”

  Erik slowly made his way toward the front door, feeling Greg’s loathsome gaze stabbing his back.

  * * * *

  When Blaze came in at ten, she looked around for Erik, but didn’t see him. She stuck her head in Greg’s office and asked, “Where’s Erik? Is he sick? What’s wrong?”

  “He’s at home where he’s supposed to be,” Greg answered mildly without looking up.

  “What happened? He’s usually here when I come in.”

  He stopped writing and lifted his gaze upward, watching the fire dancing in her hair.
“Blaze, I sent him home. You said you didn’t want him hanging around, so I took care of it like I told you I would.”

  “Greg, this all started because you had me convinced that he was the one calling me. I just figured when you found out it wasn’t him, you’d forget it.”

  He laid his pen down and allowed his gaze to travel over her tight jeans. “The man needs his rest, Blaze. When he comes in at night to see you, he loses sleep and walks around like a zombie the next day. Now, we can’t afford to keep him if his infatuation with you is going to cause his work to suffer. I would suggest you leave him alone.”

  “You bastard!” Blaze yelled, walking toward him with blood in her eyes. “You’re just trying to keep him away from me because in your twisted mind, you think he’s a threat. Well, let me tell you something, you friggin’ tight-lipped bastard. I don’t like you, and I never will. Got that? So just don’t go around holdin’ your breath thinkin’ that you and I are gonna get it on, because it’ll never happen!”

  Greg jumped up. “What about that night in the hall when I kissed you?”

  “Yeah, what about it? A little brush on the lips and suddenly I’m your property? You sure as hell have a lot of high hopes for such a low mind.” She pushed her face up to his and her wild curly head shook as she yelled, “In your dreams, clown!”

  Blaze whirled around and stomped out of the station. When she got out into the night, she headed toward her car in case Greg was watching. As she approached the low-slung little MG, she stopped and looked around carefully. Instead of getting in, she turned and walked slowly toward the dark doorway at the side of the building. When she got there, she looked around again, and then stepped carefully down each dark step and knocked lightly. In only seconds, the door opened slightly. When Erik saw her, he swung the door open wide, grabbed her arm, and pulled her in.

  She looked puzzled. “Erik, what’s wrong?”

  “Greg is on the warpath. Just beca…” He stopped suddenly and looked at Blaze, hoping he hadn’t given himself away.

  Blaze cocked her head when she heard his perfect speech and gave him a one-sided smile. “Well, sounds like you’ve been practicing.”