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CHAPTER 6: SOMETHING WICKED IN THE WIND
(READ Ch5, P.2 here)
The next morning Detective Litani awoke to find that Rebecca was nowhere to be found. The doorbell rang while he was in the shower. He thought about not answering it but the prospect of possibly finding Rebecca standing there, returning to greet him, propelled him to do so. He could still remember her chilling words to him last night as he had entered her. The idea that Childress had come anywhere near her, in that way, made him despise the man even further. It made him officially consider Childress as a predator. He cut the shower short, and wrapped a towel around his waist on his way to the door.
“My, my, nothing’s sexier than a man dripping wet in a towel,” said the effervescent teenager.
The white corduroy upper thigh length mini-skirt she wore hugged her body perfectly, too perfect. Her hair was pulled up away from her face the way she liked to wear it most times, with the length of the ponytail dangling over a tight backless red blouse. The entire package screamed jailbait.
The smile on his face disappeared quickly.
“What are you doing here Tina?”
“Oh now, Ray, don’t get mad. My bike broke down. I need a ride, don’t want to be late. The group’s organizing a really cool film festival on American New Wave cinema. Today’s the board meeting with all the big shots and muckety-mucks.”
“What group would that be, Tina?
“The people I work for silly, over at Filmspace. It’s gonna be great. Before Filmspace came along this town had zilch in the arts department. Unless you count the Historical Society’s bingo games, I know I don’t. Hey Ray, I just love the movies, don’t you?”
Showing only mild appreciation, he shrugged and ran off into the bedroom to finish getting dressed.
While left to her own devices, she poured a glass of milk and leaned up against the kitchen counter, contemplating. No doubt, it amused her that Detective Litani scarcely paid her any attention. Yet, it only made her want to invest more in their relationship. And they did have one — a relationship — whether he knew it or not. She was sure of that. She felt at ease talking to him, even when it seemed like he wasn’t listening.
“Oh I almost forgot. Cheryl and Grant want to invite you to my eighteenth birthday party,” she called out.
“Cheryl and Grant? Who are these people?!” he yelled back, while stepping into a pair of cream colored boxer short with an image of the Tasmanian devil imprinted on them.
“Cheryl and Grant Sycamore — my parents. Duh.”
He came back into the kitchen a couple of minutes later dressed in a pair of black slacks, and a white T-shirt that seemed to cling to his upper body, outlining every sinewy muscle. He felt good, thoughts of last night’s marathon session with Rebecca Jamison still fresh in his mind.
“You call your mother and father by their first names?”
“Most of the time,” she said. “It’s just easier that way.”
“But, they’re you’re parents . . .”
“They know who they are.”
She took a long swallow of milk that left a mustache, and then rather seductively licked the milk ring from around her mouth in slow motion.
“Cut it out, Tina. Enough is enough,” he insisted for the millionth time.
She followed him into the living room as he sat down on the couch to finish lacing up his sneakers. It was weird having her stare at him the way she did, and even weirder realizing that he was the only one embarrassed about the whole thing.
“–Heard about Lizzie French?”
“Can you be more specific?”
“Yesterday, at the Founder’s Day celebration, she passed this thing around for signatures. Her new thing. Every time you turn around that old battle axe’s got a new thing. Some kind of resolution on righteousness, is what some of the folks are calling it. And, guess what? She wants everybody in town to sign, so she can send it to the state Capital. That’s what I hear anyway. That’s something, huh?”
“No Tina, that’s something else.”
“Yep, old Lizzie’s our pride and joy! That crazy ringding can call on the Lord God Almighty like nobody’s business! She makes our Reverend Kernapple look like a wimp. Yep, somebody should have locked that ringding up years ago. But then again, every town needs a comedian.”
“I’d really love to hang around and shoot the breeze with you Tina, but I’m late for work.”
“Oh please, nobody cares what time you get to the Sheriff’s Office. Especially Sheriff Daniel, he’s still on bed rest.”
“I care, Tina. Is that good enough for you?”
“Whatever.”
He adjusted his belt buckle. “Wow, teenagers really know how to turn a phrase.”
His first chore of the morning – keep Tina Sycamore at bay. It proved itself to be a hard one, but he was still in confidence mode, after last night’s romantic bliss. He closed his eyes for a moment, and pictured Rebecca’s naked breast against his lips. He could still taste the sweetness of her body lotion on his tongue; the apple blossom scent lingering long after the deed had been done. Two years she’d said, since the last time she’d made love. Theoretically, it had been almost like being with a virgin. He had been honored that she’d chosen him to break her celibacy. Honored. Pleased. Thrilled, and just plain ridiculously optimistic. He had felt proud bringing her to climax, not because of ego but because he’d felt a true connection for the first time in a long time.
“Ray, snap out of it! What’s wrong with you?”
When he opened his eyes he found Tina on the floor at his knee repeatedly tugging at his pants leg. He immediately jumped up.
“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you? Why are you on the floor?”
She stood up, and pulled her mini-skirt down. He had a good mind to toss her right out the door, no explanation.
“I was trying to get your attention. You dozed off or something.”
It had been more like a wet daydream.
“And this action required you to get down on the floor, and grab the leg of my pants?”
“Look at it this way, I could have grabbed something else.”
She smiled invitingly.
“Not funny Tina.”
“Don’t get all crazy, Ray. My kindergarten teacher Mrs. Wainwright used to do the same thing to wake us up after nap time.”
“Don’t tell me you can recall your kindergarten years?” he asked, thinking she was full of it.
Tina put her hands on her hips, and pouted, “Didn’t we already go through this? I told you already. I have an unbelievable memory, just ask around. It’s what you call photographic. I was tested and everything. That’s why I know I can help you with the case, if you let me. I still have some of Patty Lowell’s life tucked away in my mind.”
He took her by the shoulders and guided her towards the door.
“What are you doing?”
“I’ll gladly give you a ride to work Tina, but you should wait out in the car.”
“Why?”
“No reason,” he said, and pushed her out the door.
As the police car pulled out of the driveway, Tina’s attention was soon diverted to the backseat near the driver’s side, to the exquisite ornamental box that presented itself like a mystery of which she was more than fond of. The more she looked over her shoulder at the box the faster the wad of pink Bubblelicious gum circled around in her mouth. He was careful not to say anything to her about it but he knew she could barely withstand the intrigue.
“So, Ray, I hear Victor Salley’s sister won’t let Doc Westminster autopsy Victor’s body because they’re Jewish, and you know, it’s a sin.”
She was in full snoop form.
“Who told you that?”
“I heard it that’s all. I have a knack for communication.”
“Really? Now all you need is the gift of silence,” he said. “Besides, you got it all wrong.”
“Oh, then there is gonna be an autopsy?”
He looked over at her without saying a word. His keenest impression of Tina was that she had a gentle enough nature, but was a bit of an instigator, who quite possibly had a hidden mean streak reserved for special occasions .
“Listen, Tina, maybe you should stop calling me by my first name. It’s a little, uh, . . . ”
“A little what? It’s your name, right? Or do you want me to call you by the full Christian name Raymond instead?”
“What I’m trying to say is Ray, or Raymond – they’re a little too familiar. Our relationship should be one of a strictly professional nature, and something more age appropriate. I just don’t think you know me that well to call me by my first name.”
The sweat from his palms made the steering wheel glisten as he turned the corner, past the library, and on to Congressional Lane. Maybe he was overdoing it by coming at her this way but he wasn’t completely clueless. A blind man could see that young Tina Sycamore clearly had designs on him, and he clearly did not want to appear to have assisted her along that path with any provocation.
“Really? Interesting,” she said.
“I just think it’s more professional that way . . . you being who you are, and I being who I am, that you should stick with Detective Litani, or even Mr. Litani.”
“You trying to convince me – or yourself? Besides, it’s a little self-righteous of you Ray, don’t you think?”
“How so Tina?”
“Well, if I was five, I could maybe see where you were coming from. But I’m not. I’m seventeen going on eighteen and . . .”
“That’s another thing, I really would appreciate it if you stopped repeatedly telling me how close to eighteen you are. I realize turning eighteen is a big day in your life, however, it is irrelevant as far as you and me are concerned. If you don’t remember anything else, please remember that.”
“But you call me Tina, not Miss. Sycamore. And I don’t mind.”
“I’ll gladly refer to you as Miss. Sycamore, or Ms. Sycamore from now on, whichever you prefer.”
“I prefer Tina,” she said, “I was just making a point.”
He sighed, in despair. She was one tough cookie, this precocious townie.
“Do you call Sheriff Daniel by his first name?”
“No, I call him Sheriff Daniel, or sometimes just Sheriff.”
His face beamed. He had her, or so he thought.
“You’ve just proven my point young lady. Oh, I’d also accept just plain old “Detective” as a greeting. It would do just fine.”
“You’re comparing apples and oranges Ray – it’s not the same with you as it is with the Sheriff. Even though I’ve known the Sheriff my whole life, I feel . . . closer to you.”
He didn’t bother to continue or even look over at her after the fact. Fending off Tina was one thing but he was having an ever harder problem getting Rebecca Jamison out of his head. He couldn’t help but wonder if her revelation to him about Childress had had something to do with her early departure from his bed this morning. Although, he couldn’t completely rule out the fact of there being ten kids waiting for her back at the orphanage as a contributing factor.
“You hear anything from Victor’s wife yet? She’s missing, right?”
“You don’t know that Tina.” He did know that.
“She’s missing all right. She stayed with him all the time when he was a drunken numskull. Now he’s dead. If anything, she should be walking on cloud nine, dancing in the streets. Maybe she knows something. Maybe she had to skip town quick. I don’t think she killed him though, that’s too easy. You know what I think?”
“Not even on a good day,” he said.
“I think Mrs. Peabody should hire a private detective to go looking for her sister-in-law. I know I would be concerned if my brother’s wife and children went missing like that, after he was murdered. I don’t think I’d wait around for the cops to figure it out either, no offense.”
“None taken,” he said. “I always like to know that the public’s thinking, even if the public is an overzealous teenager with a tendency to stick her nose where it doesn’t belong.”
He looked over at her. He could almost see the wheels turning. In reality, If things weren’t the way they were he would have seriously considered taking someone like Tina under his wings, to provide a kind of mentor relationship for a career in the criminal sciences like his good friend Sargent Ludlow had done for him, if that’s what she’d wanted.
“So– what do you think, huh? Think somebody murdered them too, the same as Victor? I think it’s a fifty-fifty.”
Detective Litani slowed down and pulled over to the side of the road. He cut the engine off, and leaned over closer to the passenger’s side. Tina Sycamore pursed her lips and closed her eyes. Her heart beat faster. She had been waiting for this moment since the first day of his arrival in town. This was her moment, and she was ready for him.
“Number one – nobody’s saying Victor was murdered. A suspected drowning is one of those things that has to be examined further before it can be called as such. It means that we have to eliminate the possibility of homicide. Number two – referring to your fifty-fifty chance scenario, I don’t think you understand how probability works. I admire your inquisitiveness in wanting to understand how all the pieces fit together. Really, I do. It’s like a puzzle to you, and you like to tinker and see how things come together. You’re young. Young people like puzzles, I get it. But, do me a favor? Please promise me you won’t go spreading misinformation around town. Oh, and you can open your eyes now.”
Disappointed at having not received the proper kiss she’d prepared for, she pulled the rubber band from her hair, and popped him with it.
“You are a cruel one, mister. Just plain cruel.”
Back on the road she was silent. Part of him considered this a triumph, especially since their earlier conversation about calling him by his title hadn’t been officially settled. Her silence meant no more worrying about dreaded questions, flamboyant suppositions, or even worse – relentless come-ons. Still, another part secretly relished the visceral reaction of her pushing back.
“So tell me Tina, how does it feel to be a high school graduate with your entire life ahead of you?”
She blew a bubble and peeled the bubble gum from her lips. It was done in such a way that he shook his head in disbelief. Practically every action she undertook was either delivered for effect or meant to entice. He was beginning to think Tina Sycamore was in her own little alternate reality, appearing live in Technicolor while everyone around her watched, amazed at the heights of her performance from day to day. Or, it had also occurred to him that this just might be her way of pushing back.
“Well Ray, I still wake up wanting to eat corn flakes so things haven’t changed that much.”
“Ah, but you’re a girl with ambition. I’m sure you’ve got some kind of plans for the future. Maybe leaving this town and making it big?”
“Yeah, sure, except I’m not done here yet. Just like you, some things need to be followed up on first.”
“What things?”
“Why should I tell you? You don’t respect me. You treat me like a kid.”
“You are a kid.”
“I’ll be eighteen in a matter of days, so there.”
Again with the reminder of her official leap into womanhood. He suspected she had the big day circled in red ink on her calendar since it had already been tattooed on her brain. It was difficult enough trying to manage her now at her present age; he feared the feat would prove nearly impossible the moment she became legally emancipated, so to speak.
“The board meeting at Filmspace I was telling you about . . . Childress will be there,” she said, hoping to reengage his interest.
“Really?”
“Yep, he’s the leader of the pack after all. He’ll probably smile at me the way he does, and put his hand on my shoulder and say, “Miss. Tina Sycamore, how are you today?”
“I thought we crossed this subject on Founder’s Day at the diner. Don’t go playing games with a man like that. He’s a wolf.”
“Then does that make me Little Red Riding Hood?”
He shook his head in amazement, “ You really are a glutton for punishment.”
He pulled up next to the Gothic designed building with its pointed arches and ribbed vaults. Filmspace, and a few other modern buildings scattered about, seemed completely out of place in a town with civic architecture largely comprised of early Christian basilica structures and colonial homes.
She got out the car and bent down near the window.
“I’m not gonna ask why you didn’t say anything about the strange box with the designs in the back seat. My senses tell me it probably has something to do with the investigation somehow. You know, I could really help you put things together. We could make a great team, but all I get from you is a big goose egg, and speeches on how not to call you “Ray.”
She cast a look of disapproval in his direction. He rolled his eyes.
“And by the way,” she said, slowly backing away from the vehicle, “I’d give anything to find out about all the juicy stuff you whispered to Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farms about the case last night while you fucked her. I bet she calls you Ray,” she surmised. “Don’t forget to give the bitch my warm regards,” she said, and then strolled off.
He had no idea how she knew.
The first thing Detective Litani did when he reached the Sheriff’s Office was take out his wallet, and look for the sliver of note paper taken from his motel room in Infinity City. He’d written the number on it that served as his only means of contacting Leilani, the young woman who said she was the dead Hawaiian’s sister.
He dialed the number and waited. After three rings someone picked up.
“Hello, may I speak to Leilani? Detective Litani, calling.”
“Leilani?” asked the voice on the other end.
“Yes, is she available?” he asked, wanting to move things along.
“Police?” asked the voice.
“Yes, Detective Raymond Litani. I’m sorry but it’s rather urgent. Can you please put Leilani on the phone if she’s there?”
On the other end, the phone was slammed down on a hard surface, causing him to flinch. A few minutes later it was retrieved by another listener. This time the voice was older, more mature.
“Hello, FBI? Kaminsky?”
“No, Detective Raymond Litani. Pardon me, but is Leilani available? It’s really important.”
There was a moment of silence, and he could hear the other party on the end of the phone breathing heavily.
“Leilani,” the voice repeated, “My daughter Leilani’s at the General Hospital.”
“Hospital? What happened?”
“Evil keeps visiting my family. First my son, now my sweet daughter. Something wicked. This evil, it travels through the wind.”
From what he could gather something dreadful had happened to the fierce and willful woman he’d met back in Infinity City. His thoughts went immediately to the fake Denny’s Restaurant that served as some kind of criminal underground, operating in broad daylight. He held the practical knowledge of a seasoned street officer and even he could not wrap his mind around it. He went over the elements in his head. One – Leilani had sent him to the restaurant for a reason. That something had more than likely to do with her dead, presumably murdered brother. Two – Victor Salley had left the recording on his voicemail prompting him to go to Infinity City, in search of the Hawaiian. Three – If the Hawaiian killed Victor, who killed the Hawaiian? It would have been easier if he could have accepted Victor Salley’s death as a simple drowning.
Clearly Leilani had figured her brother to be operating as some kind of mercenary, – that’s what his introduction to the Restaurant was all about. He hoped her revelations to him hadn’t been the catalyst for whatever had happened to her. Before he could continue the conversation further, Deputy Carlisle entered carrying a cardboard box full of cigarette cartons. He dropped the box down, and made a beeline for Detective Litani’s back end office.
“Well, well, well, look who decided to skedaddle back to town! How was your little trip to Infinity City?! Get any tail?!”
He yelled this while positioning himself in the doorway, hunched over like a tired vulture, after a gratuitous meal of scavenging and pillaging.
“Hello? Listen, I apologize but I have to get off the phone now but I promise to call back later and pick up where we left off. Is that alright with you?”
“Yes,” said the voice on the other end, “Peace be with you.”
Detective Litani hung up the phone and directed his attention to Randy Carlisle. There was a reason why he’d never made Chief Deputy. To put it bluntly, he was an idiot. Everyone knew it, especially Sheriff Daniel. It had appeared to Detective Litani since he’d arrived in Trinity’s Land End almost three weeks to today, that unfortunately, Sheriff Daniel seemed to count on it. He treated the young deputy like a mama bear would if she’d discovered one of her cubs was a little slow, or “touched in the head”. As long as Randy Carlisle remained safely under Sheriff Daniel’s wing, he would always be comfortable being an idiot.
“Hey there foreign boy. You speak Spanish or that Islam?”
“Well – let’s see, Islam is not a language. Farsi is a language. And as for the other – my parents were of Argentine and Lebanese roots but I speak the same language you do Deputy Carlisle. Is that good enough for you?”
Deputy Carlisle gave Detective Litani a half-grin and went on about his business, unloading the box of cigarette cartons.
The job of Chief Deputy required reporting to the Sheriff. The position was akin to a direct supervisor of department heads. Furthermore, in the event of the Sheriff’s temporary absence, responsibilities included the wherewithal to manage the entire Sheriff’s department until the Sheriff returned to duty. Last year, Chief Deputy Bannister, had resigned from the position and left for Las Vegas to be the lead security detail for a major casino. It had been a calculated move in which he had been guaranteed a salary twice what he’d earned working under Sheriff Daniel. With the position of Chief Deputy now void, and Sheriff Daniel still in the hospital, the Sheriff’s Office consisted of Deputy Carlisle, Deputy Hawthorne, who was on vacation, two part-time records clerks, and himself. It was a shoestring operation if there ever was one. And even though the words were sometimes used interchangeably – it was definitely more of a Sheriff’s Office than Sheriff’s Department.
“You know, that Tina Sycamore dropped by here to see you when you were over in Infinity City. Said she had something to talk to you about!” he yelled heartily across the room as if they were in the Roman Coliseum.
“Thank you Deputy for that message but I’ve seen Tina already.”
“Oh you did? I tell you that girl’s just itching to give it away, maybe you’re the lucky fella, huh? Shit, maybe even me. Age of consent is 16 here in our great state, and that Tina’s plus one.”
“Maybe you need to read the General Laws of Massachusetts again Deputy Carlisle, as I have, Chapter 272, Section 4, which sets a second age of consent provision at 18 if a person of “chaste life” is thought to be seduced by a perpetrator and put in harms way. You’re what? About 28? More than the law allows. And an authority figure in a position of power. Do you really want to risk getting caught up?”
Deputy Carlisle growled at him under his breath.
“What the fuck? You mean to tell me, a man’s in town less than a month, and he’s got nothing better to do than spend his time reading every inch of the fucking General Laws of Massachusetts? Why don’t you go down to the roadhouse and solicit for some pussy, if you’re that bored. Jeez Louise, that’s pitiful. And you’re fucking crazy if you think Tina Sycamore’s led a chaste fucking life. She went out out with this college boy over in Infinity City a while back, for Christsakes.”
It wasn’t before long that Rita Mason came by looking as spectacular as ever in a vintage pin-striped pants suit, and a pair of patent leather shoes. She was the closet thing to a fashionista in Trinity’s Land End. She reminded him of a black Marilyn Monroe in the way she glided over surfaces, hips in full swagger. It was hard to take your eyes off of her.
Deputy Carlisle sprang to attention to greet the visitor, complete with bulging eyes and irregular heartbeat. He wasn’t one for subtlety, especially when the fairer sex was in close proximity.
“Hey there Rita Mae, how you doing? Anything wrong with Mama Loas?”
“No Randy, I just dropped by to speak to Detective Litani over there, that’s all.”
“Oh, well, he ain’t doing nothing important so I guess you can go on in.”
“Thank you,” she said, “By the way, grandmama said she was gonna send me over to bring you some of that chili you like so much.”
A wide grin came across his face, and he lit up like a Christmas tree at the mere thought of being given anything by a woman he’d dreamed about banging for years. Of course, Rita Mason shouldn’t have felt special in this regard because Randy Carlisle had kept a mental list of all the women he’d fantasized about screwing since he was fifteen. Currently, there were three hundred and five names on the roster.
Once inside Detective Litani’s office Rita Mason closed the door behind her, sat down in the chair across from his desk, and crossed her legs.
“Nice to see you again, Miss. Mason.”
“It’s Ms.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I never get that right.”
“Oh that’s alright, I’m not one of those women who believes every word in the English language has to be refashioned to fit gender etiquette. I just like the sound of Ms. better. It sounds, dignified.”
“Do you worry about such a thing – not being seen as dignified?”
“I’m a black woman in a town that’s nearly ninety five percent white. Contrary to what you may think or have been told, we do not live in a post-racial society.”
“What’s on your mind Ms. Mason? Or did you just stop by to give me a political science lesson?”
She uncrossed her legs, and he could see that the crease in her pants leg was perfectly starched.
“You’ve been asking questions around town about Childress. You even upset my grandmama by the mere mention of his name.”
He could of asked her about her own family member’s connection to Patty Lowell but he’d save that discussion for some other time.
“Actually, she brought him up first,” he corrected, “Just to keep it all straight.”
“By all means let’s keep it all straight, Detective. Anyway, I think that you think he may have had something to do with that poor woman’s murder. You’ve no doubt heard about his proclivities for young blood, and I’m sure the townsfolk have provided you with many stories about Patty’s teenage years. It was a simple deduction to make. It’s what I do.”
“Right, you’re a psychologist. That’s what you do,” he said, with little conviction.
He ended up sounding a lot more hostile than he had intended. Perhaps it had something to do with his thoughts of Leilani lying in a hospital bed in Infinity City. Even more troublesome was the likelihood that the nefarious incident somehow related to the continuing murder saga back in Trinity’s Land End. Rita Mason was here to tell him something, and a voice deep inside told him it would be wise to listen.
“I’m sorry Ms. Mason, go ahead.”
She got up from her seat, and leaned against the chair.
“Maybe I should come back when you have more time?”
“No, please, sit down, you’re doing just fine. I’m just a bit preoccupied, that’s all. Sit down, please?”
Rita thought about it, and then pulled the chair halfway back.
“Whatever you do, it’s best you be careful when dealing with Childress. You see, he presents things to the outside world that may or may not be true. He’s like a chameleon in that way,” she continued, and sat back down.
“Okay, can you be more specific?”
“I thought I was,” she said. “Childress has a maniacal attention to detail. The man’s skilled at taking your weaknesses, and using them against you ”
“Now, would this be a bit of inside knowledge? Or is it just a general psychological overview of a certain type?”
She knew exactly what he was asking. It was only natural, considering the subject of conversation.
“Are you familiar with the way a vulture circles its prey? Let me put it to you this way – Childress has an unforgiving code of masculine behavior, and he likes to test the limits as often as he can. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”
“I think I do. But Ms. Mason, I’m not looking for some kind of Alpha male battle. My only compulsion is to solve an open investigation. And right now the Childress name keeps popping up. It may be nothing, but one has to wonder about these things. And that’s what they pay me for, to wonder.”
She got up again.
“I just wanted to prepare you. Think of it as a professional courtesy. All you have to remember is you’re dealing with a man who essentially lies for a living. You may not be looking for a battle, but with Childress you’ll get one by default. And don’t expect much assistance from townsfolk here either. Many of these people have put their faith in Childress. They’re part of the misguided servants who see Childress as a patrician figure who’ll take care of them if they offer their unfettered loyalty,” she said, “Thank you for your hospitality. Oh, and before I forget, my grandmama would like to have you over for dinner sometime. She says you remind her of somebody she knew long ago,” “In a past life,” she added.
After Rita Mason had gone Deputy Carlisle came into Detective Litani’s office with a carton of cigarettes. It was one of the cartons from the several he’d brought into the station that day.
“Here, happy birthday”, he said.
He tossed the carton of cigarettes in Detective Litani’s direction.
“It’s not my birthday, and I don’t smoke,” said Detective Litani. “Where did you get these?”
He opened the carton and examined a box of Newport 100’s. The pack bore a Rhode Island tax stamp.
“I see, contraband,” said Detective Litani, “Well now, the state’s Department of Revenue really is going to love you.”
“Shit, seized fourteen cartons, hidden under a bush down by the Janus River. I ain’t fucking lying. All out-of-state, all illegal. Man, ‘been trying to get a fix on this operation for a while. Nobody knows how the shipments come in but the Janus River is one of the drop points. I got a call last week from my snitch, said to look for a new drop Founder’s Day, and sure enough . . .”
Detective Litani’s reaction was mixed. The thought of an illegal cigarette smuggling operation in one of Massachusetts beacons of small town living was both fascinating and perplexing.
“ Who’d be stupid enough to sell from their local store here?”
“All undercover, foreign boy. Down at the roadhouse at the end of town, Milo the barkeep has a whole fucking system of distribution to his customers. Shit, it’s like he thinks he’s some big time crack dealer or something, with his clucks on the lookout for buyers. Motherfucker’s never even been arrested, only his clucks, and they don’t say a word, just do the time to protect the operation. One time, Sheriff Daniel confiscated three cartons from Lizzie French’s nephew Luke’s trailer that came from South Carolina. South Carolina! Shit, they got the lowest tax on cigarettes in the nation. Our great state of Massachusetts stands to lose a shitload of dollars if South Carolina imports make it big her, goddammit.”
“I imagine the Sheriff’s Office is working with the state police on this.”
“Don’t even mention those freeloading shitbirds to me! Sheriff’s Office does all the leg work but those assholes get all the credit, and press. It ain’t fair. I talked to Sheriff Daniel this morning about it.”
“You did? How is he?”
“ Restless. Itching to get back to work. Says he’ll be in tomorrow. Anyway, I got the rest of the cartons locked away in the safe. They’re sending somebody from the division of taxation or something like that, to come over and pick’em up.”
“Add this carton to your contraband.”
Detective Litani shoved the opened box of Newport 100’s back into the carton, and returned the whole thing to Deputy Carlisle.
“Oh and Randy, you might want to consider the extra carton you took out for yourself.”
“Fuck you Litani, I called in fourteen cartons!”
“Well, how many did you really find?”
“Didn’t you hear me the first time? Fourteen cartons, alright?”
“Well, Randy, if you called in fourteen but leave these two out, they’re going to know you’re holding out. If it was your intention to be slick, you should’ have called in–”
“– Twelve! Aw shit, I screwed up.”
Randy Carlisle scratched his head and sighed, the way a less fortunate rascal would after realizing the inadequate implementation of his brilliant plan to walk away with a free carton of smokes, courtesy of the taxpayers.
“You can’t win’em all,” said Detective Litani.
“Yeah, yeah. Look here, foreign boy, what was that all about with Rita Mae Mason? She in some kind of trouble?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
“What did she want with you, then?”
“ Oh nothing much, she just came down to tell me something.”
“Tell you what?”
“That Childress is the bogeyman. A Faustian mischief.”
A dumbfounded look came over Deputy Carlisle. He hated it when people said complicated things to him. He wasn’t good with irony or sarcasm, or any type of figurative analogy. He understood criminal lingo just fine, but language steeped in fancy literary metaphors drove him crazy. To make matters worse, he often appeared even more baffled than usual when attempting to decipher said language.
“What? She thinks he has some kind of powers or something? Mama Loas swears she’s got some. Calls herself some kind of hoodoo priestess. They say she put a curse on a man one time for calling her blackie.”
It’s often said that, “Ignorance can be cured but stupid is for life.” The more time Detective Litani spent in the presence of Deputy Carlisle, the more he was sure his less than mentally gifted colleague resembled that remark.
“No, I simply mean she thinks he’s bad news.”
“Well, I wouldn’t put much stock in rumors. He’s done a lot for this town. I know that. He’s always been here when we needed him. Last year he bought all new police cars with GPS and everything! And he’s the largest independent contributor to the policeman’s retirement fund. In a way he’s kind of like the town’s Santa Clause,” said Deputy Carlisle.
“You still believe in Santa Claus, Deputy Carlisle? Anyway, I’m sure he’s a powerful man. And I’m sure he’s got his share of enemies,” said Detective Litani, “You ever hear anything about him, and the murdered Lowell woman?”
“All I know is she used to work some kind of summer job for him at his corporate headquarters in Infinity City, back when she was a young girl. He runs these summer business programs for kids. You know, to try and teach the little fuckers business stuff. I don’t know why he would pick her though, everybody knew that girl only had one thing on her mind back then, and it didn’t have nothing to do with business.”
Rather than get into a tortured conversation with his colleague about Patty Lowell, he, instead patted Deputy Carlisle softly on the shoulder – the way you would a dog who’s just spent the last hour chasing his tail – and headed out the door.
“Where you off to, foreign boy?” asked Deputy Carlisle.
He didn’t bother to answer.
It was public knowledge that a Childress one night stand could last for days, weeks, or even months. He was nakedly and unashamedly self-promoting and required any woman he took to bed to fully understand she was at his mercy, to be called upon to do his bidding whenever he so desired. He saw it as a kind of contract between them in which the female party in question was expected to give up any preconceived notions of rights and feelings, and to submit wholeheartedly to the idea of furthering his interests in perpetuity wherever they may lie.
Rebecca Jamison was Childress’s most prized possession. A one-night stand that had lasted the span of twenty years. Since the age of seventeen she had been completely and utterly his in every way, and he had taken great pleasure all those years in debasing her at every turn. It had given him great pleasure then, and even more so now, to know that this very sensitive caretaker of the town’s orphanage had spent her entire life trying to please him for reasons only he was privy to.
Childress sat across from his concubine, his cold steel eyes devouring her. He wanted her to fully appreciate the fact that she was on display. They sat there in silence, his stare forbidding her to say anything before he was ready for her to speak. There was no room for negotiation, only subjugation. The strong and independent Rebecca Jamison that everyone in town thought they knew had been replaced by an obedient masterful creation of the town’s chief architect of misdirection.
“That feeling you’re feeling this instance my dear . . . it has a name, it’s called arousal. You could no more fight it then you could a charging locomotive. It owns you. I own you. Always have. Understand?”
“Yes,” said Rebecca.
That was all she said. She knew that he did not want her to say more. As she looked longingly into those eyes – those harsh soulless, empty eyes devoid of true human kindness – she felt disgusted. Inside she seethed with venom at the charges he hurled at her.
“That little scene in the diner on Founder’s Day, it was unbecoming. You would be wise to control your female emotions, unless I’m the orchestrator of them, of course. There’s absolutely no room in this arrangement for you improvising.”
“Yes,” she said, “But that young girl with you–?
“Not your concern,” he interrupted, and grabbed her by the arm from across the table. “On to more important matters. Did you accomplish your mission, my dear?”
“Yes,” she said again.
“So our policeman friend is completely, shall we say, turned on?”
“Yes, completely.”
“I have many plans for you, and your new toy.”
The Maitre-D returned with a bottle of Dom Perignon.
“Sir, the manager sends his gratitude for your presence at this establishment. He would like to offer you this bottle, as gratis. Have a terrific day, sir.”
“Thank you young man, I would, but I’ve made other plans.”
Four glasses later and Rebecca found herself back at one of Childress’s secret lair hideaways in Infinity City. There she hung handcuffed, in a leather harness that protruded from the wall, in front of a massive large scale mirror. Naked, her body lathered with peanut oil, she cringed slightly as the slippery leather strap between her legs seared into her flesh with each movement .
She closed her eyes, and tried to picture Detective Litani’s gentle face. In her mind he was still inside of her, and she was on the brink of exploding all over his cock. She turned her head to the side and breathed heavily in measured gasps as she felt her lower half repeatedly penetrated. Then she opened her eyes to the familiar shock of Childress on the other end. There was no mistaking the sheer malice in his face.
“Some people think, for some odd reason, that being in love is the only available emotion,” he said, “I’ve always found it a rather pedestrian assumption.”
“Yes,” she said, fighting tears.
“I’m glad you agree my dear,” he said, and extended his free hand to tug at her glistening breasts. “I have many emotional needs as you know, and love doesn’t even make my top ten.”
When he relieved himself inside of her, she too felt relieved that it was over and she could go home now, still knowing full well she’d crave his inhuman touch again sooner or later. She’d sought treatment before from a psychiatrist in Boston about her condition. The whole thing had lasted a week. The psychiatrist had referred to the kind of sex-and- human-misery relationship she shared with Childress as a form of Stockholm syndrome. Whatever it was, her best friend Patty Lowell had threatened to expose it to the entire town, before her brutal murder.
. . .THIS CONCLUDES CHAPTER 6: SOMETHING WICKED IN THE WIND OF WELCOME TO TRINITY’S LAND END: TOWN OF MURDER & DECEIT. STAY TUNED FOR MORE CHAPTERS COMING YOUR WAY . . .
Welcome to Trinity’s Land End:Town of Murder & Deceit by
La-Tonia Denise Willis is licensed under a
Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
