Turn Up The Night Pt 07 07 Ch 17 19

17

"I guess it was Penny losing her job that lit the fire under them. I don't think they'd have been so reckless otherwise."

Kim had paused in the middle of giving me breakfast fellatio to muse again about the crazy events of the last couple of weeks.

I reached for my coffee on the night stand, craned my neck to take a slurp, then settled back against the pillows and returned my left hand to the nape of her neck.

"I really don't think Penny was okay with any of it," I said.

"Defending the poor waif again."

"Not really. I just think her conscience finally got to her, but by then she was already up to her neck. My guess is she wanted the money for reasons of her own."

"Like what?"

"To get away from Kevin."

Kim hmm'ed skeptically.

"For how much you get around, Freddie, you don't know much about women."

"How so? And thanks for your condescension, by the way."

"Never mind. All I'm saying is I don't see why we should make a special pleading for her. She had to have been meticulous about those treatments, the medication, the transfusions. You give her conscience a lot of credit."

I pinched her shoulder to remind her of the job at hand. She gave my waning erection a sloppy kiss and a good-boy pat, signaling the encounter was hereby suspended. Boo.

"You never did something you wish you hadn't?" I said.

"Sure, but I try to make up for it somehow. At least stop doing the thing anymore. But trying to murder someone? Never done that, and I don't know how I'd begin to atone for it. I mean, at that point you pretty much have to wait for your day of judgment."

"I guess. Speaking of killing someone, do you ever wish you'd blown away Krapke and Booth? We would have had an actual pile of corpses in my basement."

"I'm proud to say I've never discharged my weapon in the line of duty. I'd be happy to retire with the same stats."

"Bastards had me tied up naked. I would have given you a hearty cheer if you'd dropped them both. I mean they got a look at my tinkle and everything."

"I'm starting to think most of Moundville's seen your tinkle already, Mr. Johnny Come Lately."

"I haven't, though."

"Haven't what?"

"Come lately. It's been at least six hours. Remember last night, I had you handcuffed to the rad--"

"Hilarious, Freddie. Anyway, I think we ran out of ways and places to do it."

"You're saying it's over?"

"I'm saying I need a change of scenery, at least."

"That's fair."

We were four days past the basement horrors, and for the last two of those we hadn't left my house, or been dressed in anything more formal than a towel or a used pair of shorts. Kim's ass looked wonderful in my boxer briefs, as well as highly comical. And when you consider that she'd also saved my life,

and

cleaned up the Moundville police department; well, all the way around, Kim Lovering was a hell of a woman.

"Do you hear a phone buzzing?" she said now.

We were both silent for a short while and the buzzing came again, from over by the closet, best I could tell. I climbed out of bed and opened the closet door. My laptop cash bag was on the floor there. I recalled I'd put the burner phone in there on the trip back from North Carolina. I slipped it out of the pocket and checked the display. There were two new messages. From Beth.

My blood ran cold.

From

Beth

?

I clicked on the first one.

--Freddie this is Inez. I didn't have your number but finally found it on Bethany's phone. Wanted to let you know--

The second message read:

-- Sorry. Wanted to let you know Lee-Ann died. It was pills same as Bethany and now they're reopening investigation into B. Suspected murder--

Kim was watching me from the bed. "What's up?"

"Hold on a second." The phone buzzed again.

--Police want to talk to you again. Any chance you could make it down here?--

I thought for a while, then texted back:

--I'm shocked and sorry to hear that. Hope you and Jim are ok. Will see what I can do--

I got back into bed with Kim and waited.

"What's going on?" she asked again.

"Did I tell you what happened in North Carolina yet?"

"Not much of it, besides the cops looking into you."

"Okay, it'll take a little while. More coffee?"

"I'll go down and get it. I want some berries, too."

"Bring the yogurt, too, if you know what's good for you."

Kim smiled back at me from the door and Inez texted back from North Carolina:

-- :-) --

Kim sat cross-legged in bed with her fingers to her temples. She'd been sitting that way for a full minute already, absorbing the details of my trip.

"Jesus, Freddie, people just seem to get dead around you. What's up with that?"

"Coincidence," I said.

"They're all women, too."

"Just a coincidence."

She gave me the Do I Even Know You look people sometimes give their dogs when they destroy the sofa cushions.

"I hope it's not catching. All these women you slept with, dying all over the place."

"That's not accurate. It's not everyone I slept with, and I didn't sleep with the girl, Beth."

"So you don't think you're cursed, huh?"

"No reason to. It's never happened before. Hey, maybe it's this place. The house. Or the town. Moundville. Maybe they mean like a

burial

mound."

"I think it's Moundville after Jeremiah Mound."

"Who?"

"The guy who dammed the creek and put in the first mill."

"Ah, that's probably just the story they put about not to scare people away after the great massacre of aught-seven."

"Anyway, what about this Inez woman? How did she escape the deadly charm of Freddie Puck?"

"Inez was and is spoken for, like I told you. She was shacking up with Jim, the owner of the Lancelot, while Jim's wife did the rounds with the guests."

Kim gave me an incredulous look.

"You're telling me you don't sleep with a woman if she's involved with someone else? I call pants on fire."

"No, I mean if the relationship's intact. If they're committed to each other in an intimate way. There's a difference."

"Your morality exists on a sliding scale."

"If you think about it, that's true for everyone, no matter what they tell themselves. Even Officer Kim Lovering."

"I sleep at night."

"Me, too."

"Good."

"Great."

"Fine."

"Fine."

Kim and I sat out on my tiny patio for the first smoke of the day. Somewhere between twenty-four and forty-eight hours ago Kim had decided she too now smoked, such was the bad influence I evidently have on people. The air was crisp and the sunshine clear; it was as though the remains of the summer humidity had been vacuumed up overnight and Canada had sent down a first real taste of fall. Kim was wearing one of my thin white cotton T-shirts which fit her perfectly for my purposes but was a little too tight for her comfort.

"What's next?" I said.

"Today? Well, if you ever let me get dressed I have to head in to headquarters. There's a lot of reports to write, on account of the massive spike in crime we just had here in our sleepy burg."

"I assume you'll be rewarded for all your work on the Booth situation?"

"I was just doing my job with the Booths. The Krapke situation, on the other hand." She paused and smiled. "I think some acknowledgment of meritorious conduct will be forthcoming. The chief is over the moon with me."

"You think Krapke had stuff on him?"

"Could be. I might never know, but he's going round the place looking like he won the lottery. He's being very nice to me."

"Make the leap to detective, you think?"

"It's a possibility. These reports I'm writing will have to be pristine. Especially the Krapke one. Police corruption cases have to be watertight, belt and suspenders, the works. If the prosecutions go well I think it should work out."

"God, think of it. You going around town in street clothes with a concealed-carry weapon and that incredible body. I might start committing crimes just to get you to respond to the scene."

I watched her nipples grow hard inside her borrowed T-shirt while she deadpanned a feminist scowl.

"What's next for you?" she said. "You gonna head back to North Carolina?"

"Not sure. Those messages were odd. Feels like a set-up. I'll have to think about it. Meanwhile I suppose I'll have some time to kill if you're going to be busy at work. Maybe I'll start my next novel."

"Any ideas for it?"

"A bit vague, so far. Nothing ever happens to me is the problem. I have to make it all up out of thin air."

Kim crushed out her cigarette out and exhaled in a whoosh. "Nothing ever happens to you. Jeez, the man's up to his eyeballs in trim and he can't think of anything to write about in his porno books."

"Your nipples are casting shadows," I said.

She looked down at her chest. Somehow just the idea of her looking at her own breasts turned me on.

"I want to suck your nipples again," I said. Saying the word 'nipples' to Kim turned me on, too.

"Freddie, I really have to get going."

"Half an hour. Let's take a quick shower and then you can show me your fresh pink pussy."

"Christ, Freddie," she said, her head falling back and exposing her neck. Her nipples were still hard.

"Make it forty-five minutes. I want you to sit on my face again."

"Freddie!" She shook her head like I was a lost cause. "Oh my God, Freddie."

"You're not being detained," I said. "We appreciate your cooperation to this point, but you're free to go at any time."

Her face was neutral to stern, but her pupils were deep, wide, and black with anticipation. The tip of her tongue slipped out between her closed lips just before she said, "I'd be happy to assist further in your inquiries." She smiled and added, "For another hour or so, anyway."

18

With no ideas for the next book and no hot and hungry policewoman to distract me, I decided I would make the return trip to Dickson.

Inez texting that smiley face had put an unpleasant prickly charge through me and I wanted to know what was behind it, despite the obvious dangers. Had I missed something about Inez? Besides, getting out in front of an investigation had worked out well here in Moundville, my attempted murder by Kevin Booth notwithstanding.

I mentioned to Kim I was thinking of making the trip, and to my surprise she told me she wanted to go, too. The idea of having a companion for the long drive appealed to me; having a member of law enforcement with me as I assisted police with their inquiries in a murder investigation appealed even more. The only snag was I'd have to wait a few days for her to finish her reports and whatever other paperwork Moundville police and the prosecutor's office required.

Kim asked a friend to look after Molly while we were gone. After the kerfuffle in my basement, she'd wound up in my care by default, despite my being disinclined to adopt a dog of the nervous, yappy variety. For Molly's part, I was surprised she had adjusted to being around me, considering my presence in her life was associated with Suzanne's final days. Perhaps witnessing me give her mistress a little glimpse of heaven before she went there permanently made me two-legs-good.

Let's face it, though, the whole terrible cascade of misfortune wouldn't have been triggered at all had it not been for Molly's ridiculous canine anxiety disorder. Sure, that's it; it was all the little dog's fault.

Yeah, no. I do confess to feeling a bit spooked by the trail of bodies I'd assembled in my wake since meeting Suzanne (and Molly). Kim's reaction, when I filled her in on the Dickson chapter, reminded me how things look to an outsider. But so what? My conscience was clear, and if you start to worry about what other people might think of you because they don't have the facts to hand, well, why even leave the house in the morning; you already cooked your own goose.

We took the western route this time, down I-81 through the mountains, hoping to see some fall colors. I also had no wish to revisit the I-95 meat-grinder as part of what would be an eight-hour trip without an overnight stop. By the time we arrived in the Gateway to Appalachia, I'd already seen enough Appalachia to last me a good while. Kim seemed quite happy to keep rolling all the way to Georgia.

We arrived on Dickson's Main Street a little after five-thirty in the evening and pulled into the small gravel parking-lot of the Lancelot a few minutes later. The first thing I noticed was that the evening happy hour on the porch was not in progress, nor were there any signs of preparation that would suggest it was imminent. That would make sense if the place had closed temporarily due to the family bereavement. And I guess the happy hour had always been Lee-Ann Armstrong's thing, anyway. Inez didn't seem the type to want to take it over. She came across as the more genuine personality, more true to herself perhaps than was Lee-Ann, but I couldn't see her small-talking the guests in the same way. Lee-Ann's peppy gregariousness was perfect for playing the innkeeper's wife. However fake the act, all in all I'd found Lee-Ann to be just

nicer

. I might be somewhat biased.

The second thing I noticed was that the 'Come On In!' sign was gone from the sidelights of the double front door. Again, not a surprise considering the current situation. But the door was open when I tried the handle, so we went in anyway.

The third thing I noticed was that the suit of armor had gone from the main foyer, as had at least half of the cabinets and shelves of bric-a-brac. How long had it been since the double tragedy? Less than two weeks? Had the funerals even been held? Someone wasn't letting the grass grow under their feet. But business is business and change is the only constant, right?

The air in the foyer was still and the place felt empty of people. I knew the Armstrongs and Inez occupied the newer, modern addition out back, connected via the large modernized country kitchen. I felt the emptiness as a kind of chill, a deadness to the atmosphere, and not for the first time since we left Moundville I questioned the wisdom of coming all this way. Sucking on tailpipes again?

Kim was off somewhere making appreciative noises at the architecture and the décor and noting how romantic it all was; I was standing in the doorway to one of the front parlors, trying to remember what had been removed from the room since I was last here, when I heard movement behind me.

Inez.

"Hello," I said.

"What are you doing here?"

"I was just wondering that myself."

She was wearing a woman's business suit in a mid-range blue, the jacket cropped at the waist, the skirt knee-length, slim but not provocatively tight. It tended to confirm the age adjustment I'd made the last time I'd seen her. Though of course there were other explanations besides the attire.

I said, "Your text about Lee-Ann and the murder investigation, about police wanting to talk to me?"

"What text? I didn't text you."

"A few days ago?"

"I don't even have your number. Why would I text you?"

Kim came back from inspecting the large dining-room.

"Oh," I said to Inez, "I brought a friend with me this time." I held up my hand to present Kim.

"Kim Lovering, Inez. Inez, Kim. I'm sorry, Inez, I don't know your last name."

"No matter," she said. "First names are fine. Kim?" she said, and shook Kim's hand.

"Pleased to meet you, Inez. This is a beautiful house."

"Thanks." Inez smiled.

Thanks?

"Here," I said, "let me show you." I took out my phone. "See? Four days ago."

Inez read through the texts and said, "If that was sent from Bethany's phone, I mean--" She was shaking her head, confused.

"It's the number she left me at the motel."

"But all of Bethany's things were given to Jim, as far as I know."

"So Jim sent it? Why would he say he was you? And what about this smiley face? That's weird, too."

"I've never known Jim to text. This is very strange. I'll have to talk to him."

"How's he doing?"

"Just okay, I guess. Trying to stay busy. He's out now, should be back soon."

"When you, or Jim, said the investigation was now suspected murder, all I could think was that meant Lee-Ann is, or I guess was, a suspect for Beth?"

Inez regarded me coolly. "It's starting to look that way, isn't it?"

She held my gaze for a while and when it became obvious she wasn't going to offer anything more, I said, "Huh. Okay, then. Well, I'd like to know about these texts. I'm even more confused now. But I wanted to stop by and let you know I'm here. I guess we should go find somewhere to stay. I figure you'll be closed for a while."

"You can stay here tonight." She made it sound like there was no question about it.

"Not if Jim would be funny about it. I figure he's still mad at me like the last time I saw him. And now with Lee-Ann on top of everything."

Inez exchanged a look with Kim, which I found irritating.

"Lee-Ann was unstable, too. I often wondered which of them would be the first to go." She turned to Inez again. "Sorry, I know that sounds heartless."

Kim raised her palms to show she wasn't involved.

I said, "I think it would be risky to stay here. I don't want to upset Jim, with all he's been through."

"I'd love to stay here," Kim said now, looking from me to Inez and back again.

Inez looked to me as if to say 'outvoted,' but I said, "How about I talk to Jim first?"

Kim said, "Would it be all right to take a look upstairs? I'd love to see it."

"Help yourselves. The rooms aren't locked. But the only one that's made up right now is number Two."

Room Two turned out to be the bedroom Eileen and Carl McElroy had stayed in. Kim made a quick tour of it and paused at the French doors leading to the balcony. She said, "Ooh, that's a nice little private spot. And look at that beautiful slate roof. I can just imagine laying out there on a warm day." She threw a glance at me over her shoulder and pouted faux-seductively.

Women.

"I hope we can stay here tonight," she said. "This room would be perfect."

"I don't think it's a good idea. This text business is all wrong. Maybe Jim just wanted me back here to take it out on me. I'm not going to sit here like a chump and wait to be slugged. He's got to be a bit crazy, anyway. He just lost his wife and daughter."

"The girl he raised as his daughter, from what you told me."

"That's just my inference, reading between the lines. And I don't think it changes how he felt about her."

Kim got suddenly serious.

"This Inez," she said, lowering her voice as if she expected her to be standing just beyond the door. "She's with Jim, right? Isn't that what you told me?"

"Right."

"Anything feel off to you about her?"

"Well sure, the whole domestic setup they had going on here was weird. I mean, Jim and Lee-Ann, that was just a front for the business. Inez was Jim's side piece, but Lee-Ann talked about her like she was the hired help. I got the impression they were all a-okay with it. People are complicated, aren't they?"

"Everyone's got their secrets."

"So what are you thinking?"

"Not sure. But there's something about her. I feel it when I look at her. Something, I don't know, ice-cold about her." She hesitated, then said, "Did you get the feeling she was expecting us after all?"

"Maybe. She certainly took it in stride, in spite of claiming no knowledge of the texts. I'm not convinced she didn't send them."

"Maybe she needs a patsy."

"For Lee-Ann, you mean?"

"Lee-Ann, or maybe even Jim. No sign of him yet today."

"Jesus, this is getting dark."

"Are you spooked?"

"Not really. Not yet anyway. I'm finding all this creepy and weird, but I didn't kill anyone."

"If they're looking at Lee-Ann for murdering Beth, what's that got to do with you? You're already in the clear for that. You weren't even there."

"Either that or they suspect Jim of murdering Lee-Ann. But I could say the same about Inez, too. She'd have plenty to gain."