Satan's Breath

by Temple Madison

  “Well, I wouldn’t worry too much. There’s one thing about being too sure of yourself, it leads to mistakes. By the way, how is Blaze taking all this?”

  “Well, with the exception of the day I took her to the morgue, she isn’t acting like the usual scared female. Ms. Alexander is an admirable woman. Anyone else in her position, male or female, would be worrying us to death, but she’s been pretty cooperative.” The chief’s chair squeaked as he turned to reach his ashtray. “Actually, I think she may have a few other things on her mind. If Schorr thinks he’s scaring her, he’s wrong.”

  “If you ever get to know Blaze, you’ll find she isn’t the typical female. She’s tough and hard, and doesn’t scare easily.”

  “Mmmm,” the chief mumbled while tapping his fingers on his desk. “She’s tough, huh?” After thinking about it a minute, he finally lifted his gaze and scowled up at Scott. “That gives me an idea.”

  Scott suddenly perked up, looking at him with interest. “What are you thinking?”

  He leaned toward Scott, and spoke with a soft, conspiratorial sound to his voice. “Ms. Alexander has started using men’s names on her show. You know, instead of addressing one as handsome or stranger, she might use—” He thought for a moment, and then indicated to Scott. “—well your name for instance. She begins very cleverly by verbally searching the city for a man named Scott. When she finds him, she begins drawing him in, speaking very intimately just to him. After that there’s the usual verbal foreplay using his name periodically as if they’re together.”

  “That sounds like Blaze, all right. She always was one for taking dangerous chances that could get her killed.”

  The chief frowned, looking through a cloud of smoke between him and Scott. “Yeah, it’s a dangerous game, that’s for sure, especially if she got the name of some psycho out there who got confused and forgot it was nothing more than a show.” He looked up at Scott with a gaze filled with apprehension. “That’s where Schorr comes in. I was thinking that if she used Schorr’s name, it might just possibly bring him out into the open for us, so we could nab him.” He paused, taking one last draw, and then while pressing out his cigarette he glanced over at Scott. “What do you think?”

  “Well, it might work.”

  “She’d be no worse off if it didn’t.”

  “I suppose that’s true.”

  The chief stood up and grabbed his jacket. “Let’s go over and talk to her.”

  “Good idea. I haven’t seen her since I’ve been here. She doesn’t even know I’m in town.”

  “It should be a nice surprise, then.”

  * * * *

  Blaze was working hard in her kitchen. She had several strands of her hair surrounded by aluminum foil, sticking out in every direction. She had her grungies on, and with a dirty face and rubber gloves up to her elbows, she held a plunger like a weapon while trying to unstop the sink.

  She looked up when the heard someone outside. “Oh sure!” she called out angrily. “Wait until I look like a psychopathic Cinderella, and then ring the friggin’ doorbell!”

  Throwing the plunger aside, she jerked at the gloves to get them off and went to the door. When she opened it, her eyes widened, and she screamed. “Oh, my God, Scott! What are you doing here?” She jumped forward and grabbed him around the neck. While he was dodging aluminum foil, she jumped up and down in his arms.

  “Blaze, what is that? You look like your trying to contact Mars.”

  “Oh,” she put her hands up to the stiff foil, “I’m just putting some highlights in my hair.”

  He looked at her disapprovingly. “I thought your hair was natural.”

  “Oh, it is,” she smiled sheepishly, “at least the red part. The streaks come out of a bottle.” She looked up at him with suggestive eyes. “Now that you know, do you still love me?”

  “You know I do.”

  She gave him a wide grin, and looked over at the Chief.

  “Blaze, you know the chief here, don’t you?”

  “Sure. Hi, Chief. You guys come on in.”

  While they strolled in, she looked down at herself, suddenly becoming aware of how she looked. “Oh, my God, I look awful.” She looked from one to the other. “Would you give me a few minutes to dash into the shower and put something clean on?”

  “All right,” Scott said, “but I warn you, we’ll talk about you while you’re gone.”

  “Be nice now,” she warned teasingly, and then turned to go. Stopping suddenly, she turned back around and gave them a pleading look. “Please don’t go into the kitchen. It’s a mess. I was trying to unstop the sink.”

  When she was out of sight, Scott turned to the chief. “Do you think she’ll go for it?”

  The chief shrugged. “If she doesn’t, we won’t do it.”

  They wandered around Blaze’s apartment looking at pictures, picking up knick-knacks here and there, and casually looking them over. Suddenly, they turned when they heard a shrill sound. Blaze came running in and jumped into Scott’s arms. Her weight unbalanced him, and he fell on the couch while she peppered kisses all over his face.

  He looked up at the chief and laughed. “This is the Blaze Alexander I remember.”

  The chief smiled down at him enviously. “I should be so lucky.”

  “Blaze, you’re getting me all wet,” Scott complained. “Didn’t you dry your hair?”

  “Yeah, but it still drips, sorry.” She quickly got up and hurried back to the bathroom.

  Scott stood up, and while brushing water off his suit, he said, “Blaze’s probably about twenty-six, but she acts like such a child sometimes.”

  “I wouldn’t complain if I were you. I just wish a beautiful twenty-six-year-old child would come and throw herself on me.”

  Scott smiled. “Yeah, it is nice. I have to keep reminding myself that I’m a married man, especially when she grabs me and jumps up and down in my arms. The funny thing is Blaze has no idea how she affects a man. To her, it’s all innocent fun. Makes a man feel guilty about the way he feels.”

  They both looked toward the bathroom when they heard Blaze call out, “Hey, what did you guys have on your mind?” She promptly followed her voice by walking in with a towel wrapped around her head.

  After they told Blaze what they’d been considering, she said, “Hey, I think it’s a good plan. Whose idea was it?”

  “You’ll have to give the chief here the credit.”

  “Or the blame if it doesn’t work out.” The chief added.

  “Great! Why don’t we run down to the station and talk it over with Greg? Maybe we can put the plan into operation tonight.”

  “Well…I…”

  Blaze looked at Scott who seemed worried. “What’s the matter?”

  “I don’t know, I guess I just didn’t think you’d agree so quickly.” Then he looked at her closely. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? Maybe you need some time to get used to the idea.”

  “Scott, you always were such a worrier. Just give me a minute to get a jacket, and we’ll get out of here.”

  Scott looked at the chief and shrugged. “So I’m a worrier. Someone has to be. She sure doesn’t.” He looked toward the bedroom where Blaze’s happy humming voice came from. It was such a good sound, he was hoping he would be hearing it for a long time to come.

  * * * *

  If a little bird were pecking and scratching along the wide ledge just outside the window of Savannah’s most popular radio station, he would hear the give and take of muffled voices coming from inside. If he just happened to look in, he would see a big grin slowly spread across Wade Perry’s face, and see his eyes dance with glee as he listened to Greg once again describe his last hilarious experience with Blaze Alexander.

  “That was the most embarrassing…I ought to have your friggin’ job for bringing that witch into this office!”

  “Hell man, what’s it been? A couple of weeks since the thing with the key happened? Aren’t you over that yet? Besides I only told yo
u about her. You’re the one who was so all-fired hot to hire her. Damn, Greg, I didn’t tell you to go and lose your head over her. I remember when your big line was, I’m not interested.”

  “I’m not, dammit!”

  “Denial, classic denial.” Wade leaned over and squinted at Greg. “Hey, what’s that I see on your face, good buddy?”

  “Where?” Greg wiped at his face, and then looked down at his hand.

  “Oh, never mind.” Wade’s dancing eyes revealed the fun he was having with Greg. “You must have had eggs for breakfast.” Holding his stomach, he laughed uproariously.

  “Shut up your fuckin’ mouth, Wade. Wade Perry,” Greg said sarcastically. “Jeez, how’d you ever wind up as a sound engineer with a name like that? It sounds like you should have been some hotshot lawyer in a three-piece suit. What’s the matter, good buddy, couldn’t you cut it?”

  “Oh, it’s the name thing again, is it? Well, what about yours? Brannigan, for God’s sake. You sound like some shoddy private eye in a trench coat that sneaks around with a giant magnifying glass and has a hooker for a girlfriend.”

  “Shut your fuckin’ mouth!”

  “Greg, how in hell could you have been so dumb? No wonder she made such a sap out of you. You’re always thinking with your prick instead of your head. Think with your brain for a change, man. Anybody would have known that if you put a key in your shorts and she starts diggin’ around in them, she’s after that key instead of your di—”

  They both looked up and saw Blaze standing at the door with a skinny white-haired Santa Clause type individual, and a middle aged, tired looking cop.

  “—ck! Yeah, that’s the new guy’s name, Dick.” Damned good guy, that Dick. You’re gonna like him. I predict great things for,” he looked around nervously and gulped, “Dick.” Wade began backing out and looking around at the threesome guiltily. “Well, gotta go.” He laughed self-consciously. “Dick’s waiting.” He quickly turned and scrambled out.

  “Well,” Greg looked at the threesome, “if it isn’t the Wicked Witch of the West, Kris Kringle, and the Keystone Cops!” He made a deep, sweeping bow. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

  Blaze walked up to him frowning, and spoke softly, “What the hell’s in that coffee you and Wade have been drinking? Sounds like you both overdosed on stupidity.”

  Greg dropped down into his chair, his angry eyes angled up toward Blaze. “What the hell do you want, Blaze?”

  “Gentlemen?” Blaze said with her hand outstretched, giving the floor to her guests.

  First, introductions were made, but as they began talking, Greg looked from one to the other listening as they described the details of their plan. Having a doubtful look on his face, he picked up the phone. Talking to both the person on the line, and then looking up at the others with frowns, curious eyes, questions, and comments, it was settled. The plan was going into operation that night.

  The bullpen just outside Greg’s office looked vacant, but Wade hadn’t gone far. He was leaning back against the wall next to the door, listening. As he heard them talk, he was very quiet, trying to make himself very insignificant and small. Sort of like a fly on the wall, or maybe—a bird on the ledge.

  * * * *

  When Wade had heard everything he needed to, he managed to slip away without being noticed. Instead of going back to his own office, he quickly slammed through the front door of the station and followed the path around the building to a side entrance. Making sure that no one was watching, he skipped down the few steps to the door and knocked softly.

  “Come in,” a voice called out on the other side.

  Wade opened the door, and there sat Erik, putting on his shoes. “Hi, Wade, what’s up?”

  “There’s trouble, man, and Blaze’s right in the big middle of it.”

  Erik stopped what he was doing, jumped up, and grabbed Wade’s lapels. “What do you mean?”

  He told Erik the plans he had heard.

  “Oh, my God, that does spell trouble. If Schorr hears that broadcast, he’ll come after her for sure.”

  “What can we do? Those two senior citizens in there won’t be able to handle Barry Schorr.”

  “Listen to me, and do exactly what I tell you.”

  * * * *

  A couple of hours before Blaze was to go on the air, Wade went into Greg’s office.

  “What in hell are you doing here?”

  “I traded off with Neil tonight.”

  “Oh, my God!” Greg shouted, and came up out of his chair.

  “What the hell is wrong?”

  “I’m going to kill Neil, that’s what.”

  “Why all the dramatics? I just wanted to hear Blaze’s show.”

  “Haven’t you ever heard of turning on a radio? Why did you think you had to be here?”

  “I don’t know. It’s just better watching her in person.”

  “All right. Nothing we can do about it now. Get out there and set the sound.”

  “Oh, yeah. That’s what I wanted to tell you. Something’s wrong with the, uh…”

  “What, Wade, spit it out.”

  “Well, one of the cables is busted. If it’s not fixed, there could be a lot of static. It might even go off.”

  “What? Why didn’t you tell me about this sooner? Hell, man, we’ll never get a repair man out here at this time of night.”

  “I just noticed it. Besides, I know this twenty-four hour place—”

  “Don’t explain. Just get him out here, pronto.”

  “You bet, right away.” Wade whirled around and ran out to the phone. While watching Greg, he put the phone to his ear, dialed, said a few words, and then hung up.

  About an hour before Blaze was to go on, a dirty-looking repairman in ragged jeans and an old frayed shirt came to the station asking for Wade Perry.

  “It’s Greg you need to see. I’ll see if I can get him out here.”

  The night guard called Greg on the intercom and Greg came out promptly and checked his identification. Satisfied, he turned and led him back to the sound area, and the man immediately went to work on the cables.

  While Greg was shuffling some papers around, he stared out at the rugged-looking workman. “How the hell can he see anything through those glasses,” Greg muttered. “They must be an inch thick.”

  Blaze breezed in a short time later all dolled up in a short black sequined dress, and stiletto heels. It was plain that she had seduction in mind—the seduction of a certain man she knew would come looking for her. She had to make herself so appealing he couldn’t resist her. She happened to look down at the man sitting among strung out wires and cables, and asked, “Who’s that?”

  “A repairman,” Wade told her. “One of the cables was frayed.”

  “Is it bad?”

  “Not too bad.” Wade saw her worried look, and smiled. “Hey, don’t worry. If it’s worse than we think, we’ll just cancel the show because of technical difficulties.”

  Blaze looked up at him with panic in her eyes. “Wade, we can’t do that. This show is very important tonight. You’ve got to see that it goes on.”

  “Get a grip, Blaze, you just go on and do whatever it is you do to prepare, and leave the technical stuff to me.”

  “Good. You’ll do everything you can, won’t you?”

  “You know I will.”

  Looking down at the repairman worriedly, Blaze finally left.

  Wade and the repairman traded looks.

  Chapter 15

  Just before midnight, a black car came mysteriously slithering out of a dark tunnel beneath a freeway, its oval beams of brightness slashing through the heavy fog like a machete. As the car moved slowly along the vacant, narrow street, the ground fog parted in its wake, making the vehicle resemble a burning-eyed specter coming up out of an abyss. The heavy mist muffled the sound of the car’s engine as it crept closer to the station, keeping its approach shrouded in darkness.

  Within a half block of the radio station, the lights blinked ou
t abruptly, and then it silently turned into the unlit parking lot. The phantom-like vehicle pulled into a vacant slot among several others, giving the driver a perfect front and side view of the station.

  The car sat alone and still—no movement—nothing.

  Fifteen minutes later, another dark car moved obscurely along the street, turned into the drive, passed the other one, and then turned into a slot strategically placed at the other end of the lot. This location gave the driver a perfect view of the back of the station.

  Again, no movement.

  Meanwhile, four pairs of eyes scanned the surrounding area, moment by moment.

  * * * *

  The station room had been built into a long square theater type structure to include a balcony that hung off the wall at one end. This provided for live audiences that were popular in the fifties. Bobbysoxers gathered there listening to their favorite deejays play rock and roll sung by Elvis, Jerry Lee Lewis, and the Big Bopper. The speakers boomed with the music that had pony-tailed teenagers in poodle skirts dancing The Bop in the aisles. Today, those same teenagers would be grandmothers with only their dusty memories of the balcony of tiered seats that hung there like ghosts from out of the past. At times, it was almost possible to see a wraithlike audience gathered in the shadows, with eerie sounds of music and chatter floating among the dust and dancing cobwebs.

  Chief Parnell and Scott Sanders sat on the first row of the balcony. It provided them a perfect view of the whole area, while at the same time, kept them out of sight.

  The chief squirmed impatiently in his seat as his piercing gaze penetrated the dark corners and leaning shadows of the large room. “Why is it so goddamned dark in here?”

  “We’re making it inviting,” Scott answered. “You know, conducive to murder. Barry will like that. Any criminal mind would.”

  “Oh, yeah, I forgot. You’re sleuthing.”

  Scott scooted forward in his chair, loving the whole thing. “You see down there where Blaze is sitting?”

  The chief leaned forward and looked down at a circle of light. Seeing something different, his face took on a scowl while he tried to think of what it was. Suddenly his eyes widened, and he yelled, “Oh, my God, you’ve dismantled the booth! And look at the way she’s dressed, for God’s sake! I’ve never seen so many sequins! They flash like a million tiny stars!”