

Deadly Compromises

By Edward Drobinski

Copyright © 2011 by Edward M. Drobinski

All rights reserved
Chapter 1

He could see a brilliant yellow sunrise over the white capped jagged purple mountains in his rearview mirror. He only looked at it fleetingly, as it was of paramount importance to keep his eyes fixed ahead. He deemed it inconsequential for a second reason; it was too late in the season to catch a view of the vestiges of summer growth, now almost invisible. Before him he got his first clear picture of the road he was on. It seemed to be perfectly straight and two ways with a broken white line running down the middle. When he turned off the headlights and first used only the natural light, he saw another two lane, two way, perfectly straight road, about one thousand feet in front of him, which formed a cross with the one he happened to be on. This view was only possible because of the perfectly flat terrain which seemed to go on for miles in all directions. The roadsides were devoid of any living vegetation. The only things complementing the dirt and reminiscent of better weather, were scrubby, dying, tan, fifteen inch long, bent projections, which, obviously no longer had any interest in reaching for the sky. He assumed that these sad remnants were once unbent green grass, before the below freezing overnight temperatures set in, but being new to the territory, he knew his instincts might be wrong.

Looking at the clear, crimson tinged, blue sky in front of him, he saw another mountain range. Given only quick, cursory inspection it seemed similar to the one at his rear, though not yet fully illuminated by the sun. He thought that at least he was heading west, his original goal, though he wasn't sure if he had yet passed his desired destination. So, he didn't even consider turning when he got to the center of the cross and continued on. After a few more miles, he encountered a large dry gully to his left. It must have once contained water, but there was no noticeable, likely source.

"Pay fucking dirt," he muttered at the car windshield. He thought he was entering a small town in the middle of New Mexico, maybe Arizona. He found it hard to tell the difference. For all he knew he might still be in Texas. He thought; "It takes forever to get out of that place." Whatever the precise location, it was almost nirvana to him, after having driven, what seemed the bulk of his life, in a dark, barren desert, the only sounds the hungry yipping of unseen coyotes.

Shortly after the fall sunrise, the town had a slow, sun bleached brown and green feel. He thought he also detected a pleasant, laid back, relaxed atmosphere with old barns and farm equipment on five and ten acre lots covered by sparse, uncut grass.

His all night solitary journey necessitated a stop somewhere due to sheer exhaustion. He wasn't very good at directions, but thought he was somewhere near his destination, his mind somewhat clouded and confused by the joint he had smoked an hour ago. He didn't notice any sign naming the town, but also may have simply not been paying any attention. He thought; "There's no need to find out where I am until tomorrow," not realizing that this tired observation, would later prove to be central to an immediate business problem and maybe more. But, for now, he was content to see an electronic billboard with red bulbs, which indicated October 15, 1989, 7:15 AM. He thought; "Civilization, hopefully with the customary accoutrements."

"All right," he said as he passed the town's gas station, women's clothing store and hamburger place. He expected to soon see suitable accommodations.

Most of the tightly packed businesses and houses were built of wood forty or more years prior and the peeling faded paint precluded precise information regarding original color. Today it looked as if they might have been a combination of greens, browns, reds and blues. He thought it odd that nothing reeked of white, prevalent in his home. Despite the bright color departure and bare wood spots showing, he thought the current patina was probably preferable to its supposed original perfection. In contrast, a ten room Motel 16 jumped out of nowhere and was startling in its plasticity. Today it was judicious to enter a professionally run establishment rather than run the risk of "getting friendly" in a private house's furnished room. He had already done his best to appear nondescript, a necessity in his profession. He looked 40ish, had uncovered graying light brown hair, was thin, wore blue jeans and a blue button down shirt, open to the third button. He entered the paved lot and diagonally parked his four year old, cream, four door Toyota sedan in front of the office. He exited his car and saw her through the glass front, seemingly oblivious to the world.

She looked around 30, with long, straight, jet black hair, parted on the side, with heavy duty bangs. She was looking down at something on the counter in front of her, he thought a newspaper. Her pretty face showed no makeup and she wore hardly detectable, thin, rimmed wire glasses. The counter precluded a lower view, so the only other visible physical feature were her ample breasts covered by a golden peasant style blouse, open to the third button, as his shirt. As he entered she didn't look up.

He said; "Excuse me, do you work here?"

She showed a grimacing smile, indicating that she didn't like being interrupted, but was somewhat ready to perform her required business obligation and replied; "Yes, yes, I'm sorry. I was reading a compelling story."

"What's that?"

"Oh, 'The Plague,' by Camus."

"Have they shut the port down yet?"

She replied indignantly, as if someone had just called her stupid; "No and of course, they're not going to. The only question is what subterfuges they'll use to keep it open."

They looked curiously at each other for a moment, his brown eyes detecting her surprised green ones behind the glasses. He was impressed. He also got his first below the waist glance and saw very bountiful hips covered by the tightest blue jeans imaginable. Overall, she appeared to be about five feet, four inches and 110-120 pounds. His own blue jeans felt a bit tighter.

He said; "Sorry I butted in and sorry that I underestimated you. I hate it when somebody barges in on me, when I'm in the middle of something. I could kill them when they then compound the faux pas by affecting superiority. My weariness sincerely apologizes." He bowed at the waist in a mock chivalrous manner and she obviously chuckled. Relieved that he had not caused a permanent breach, he continued, in an offhand manner; "But I do need a room for today and tomorrow." He realized that for no reason in particular, he liked her.

"Sure, I'll get you squared away in a second. Do you have a favorite room?"

"I've never been here before, but eight has always been my lucky number."

"It's your lucky day. Eight is right next to the office and is unoccupied. Here are the keys. I'll need your credit card."

He handed it to her and attempted to keep the conversation moving, by saying; "Have you read a lot of Camus?"

She seemed more interested in the credit card machine and vaguely answered, "Some."

Undeterred, he followed up with; "What's your favorite?"

She looked into his eyes, widened her own, turned her head slightly to one side and said; "The Stranger."

She continued the gaze and he was at a loss for words, considering the many possible responses. He didn't want to risk offending her twice in so short a time, so he lamely replied; "Me, too."

Business was done. She had trouble returning to her book, her mind now on the new arrival.

He took the keys and walked to number eight. On the way, he thought about how it was imperative to not attract attention, but that she was extremely compelling, in all the important ways. Upon entering his room he was only surprised at one thing. A small, wooden, open box was lying on the bed. When he took a look, he found CDs of Bruce Springsteen, Led Zeppelin, Patti Smith and others. Pleased at the sight, especially still being a little stoned, he looked for the CD player and found none. He decided he was too tired and would continue his search tomorrow. He closed the blinds, put his bag down on the orange, thinly carpeted floor, took off his shoes, pulled down the two blue and white crazy quilts covering the bed and climbed in, thinking about her.
Chapter 2

He woke up around 9PM, a bit tired and hungry but, really, just needing to further recover from the twelve hour drive, which was necessitated by the fact that he was told this was a "rush job."

He took a shower, shaved and felt better as soon as he was covered by the warm water. His appetite seemed to multiply. But, first he wanted to see her, under the true pretense of finding his room's CD player. He walked off to the office and for the first time took note of the facility's "L" shaped one story structure.

In luck she was still perched in the office and she again had her head down reading.

"Got'cha once more," he said as he entered.

She made a small laugh and said, "This is garbage anyway. What can I do for you?"

"Before I get into that subject, I'm curious. What kind of garbage are you reading?"

"Twelve Days on the Road with the Sex Pistols," she replied, smiling and shaking her head from side to side.

"I liked some of that one."

"Me, too. Maybe I'd say a little, rather than some," she corrected.

"Well, anyway, I came here to inform you that the CD player is missing from my room."

"There isn't supposed to be a CD player in your room."

"There are CDs of Patti Smith and a few others in a box."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Those are mine. Besides standing behind this desk, I've also been cleaning rooms here the last year or so and I play music when I do that. I must have left them."

"You must expect to be getting rich someday, working that hard."

"I think I'm going in the other direction. My husband owns this place, but I don't think it's going well financially."

He was surprised she volunteered that. He said; "Somebody that looks like you ought to have lots of leisure time to play, maybe enjoying some music."

Again she smiled softly. "Maybe someday, what can I do for you now?"

Sorry to hear an answer that wasn't on his desired wavelength, he managed a small smile and said; "If I can't have a CD player I'd just like to know where to get something like hamburgers. I had been driving a while and I slept about ten hours. Now, I'm so hungry I could eat a horse."

She pointed outside and calmly said; "Turn right on the street out here, go half a block to a small fast food place. I don't know about horses, but they can get you a gigantic hamburger with all the trimmings."

"Thanks," he smiled and left. He thought; "I got dismissed, dammit, I like her. Dammit, she's married."

Her mind was not where he thought. She watched him turn and leave. "Not bad," she thought. "He looks good enough and sounds interested. He focused in on Patti Smith when he said which CDs were there and Patti is my all-time favorite. Most people don't understand her at all. I'm not sure I do either, but I think I'm pretty close. I wonder where his level of understanding is."

She had lived all over the country and outside of it all her early life, moving every year or so. Her prolonged college years were spent in California, where she got degrees in English, math, teaching and other subjects of passing interest. She played hippy for a long time and really believed in the psychedelic philosophy. She had done some acid and smoked a lot of weed. She wanted children someday, but never encountered any guys who wanted to go that route. Some paid lip service to not wanting to bring another living thing into this horrible world. They seemed to be interested in every other possibility, but not that one. At 35, she married Alan, 20 years older in body and eons in mind. He didn't take much notice of the whole hippy thing, thought it was just a quickly passing fad for dumb spoiled brat college kids, playing bohemian on their parents' money. He believed that in the long run, it would have as much significance as goldfish swallowing in the 1920's and became a businessman in this small town. In retrospect, maybe he saw clearly, through his absurdly gigantic spectacles. She, too, opted for financial security and that was now open to question. She originally thought of children, but the more she got to know Alan, the more she decided that she didn't want to reproduce and care for anything that might be like him, or inflict it on the rest of the world. She considered having someone else father the child, but rejected the thought, because Alan would still be the most significant influence the poor thing would have. She wanted no responsibility for a potential monster, let alone watching it grow. She occasionally had liaisons with single men traveling through, just to relieve the boredom and melancholy. For today, she decided that she'd like to know more about the motel's new guest. He sounded strange enough to interest her, with knowledge of the Sex Pistols, Camus and Patti Smith. She had a plan.

She saw him walking back with a bag of something. She went outside and locked the office door behind her, carrying her boom box.

"Got anything for me to eat?" she said flatly with no inflection. She defiantly looked him up and down.

He thought; "Fantastic. She feels playful now." He shrugged, grinned and returned her matter of fact tone, saying; "Probably can find something."

"I'm off duty, now, so let me get my CDs from your room."

"C'mon."

They walked together about ten steps to the door. He opened it and they both silently walked in. Some natural sunlight remained, but the blinds were still drawn. No one put on an internal light. She went to the box, looked at it curiously and said, "The 'Radio Ethiopia' CD is not here." She wasn't really lying, but knew he would draw the wrong conclusion. She always kept that CD at home, as it was her favorite and she wouldn't risk losing it. She played at least one song from it daily.

He tried to keep things jokey and said, "I didn't steal it. I already have it."

Seemingly distraught and angry, she said; "Well, it's not fucking here."

"Look, I really didn't take it. Maybe it's on the floor."

They both dropped to their knees and crawled around the orange plushy carpeted floor.

She thought, "He looks even better in the dark." It was now nearing 10PM. She put on one small room light. She thought, "His pants look like he's in a friendly mood."

He thought; "I don't know what game she is playing, but I like it." Besides, now that he was getting a fuller view of her, the more he saw the more he liked, especially her very meaty hips.

He purposely backed into her, pretending to stumble a bit, putting his left arm around her waist to regain his "balance," accidentally tangling up legs a bit. They were looking at each other face to face. They both thought; "You're very interesting. I think I like you."

He looked into her smiling green eyes and she into his mildly surprised but happy brown ones. They both moved their faces closer to kiss. He leaned on her a little, she balked just a bit, he pushed a little harder and........

No one put on a CD, but music played.

They drowsed for a while right on the floor. He was on his back facing the ceiling. She was on top of him, facing down. Her left leg sat on his left leg and her face and left arm were on his chest. She woke up first and said loudly, "I still want my fucking 'Radio Ethiopia' CD."

Startled, he said; "I really didn't take it. Maybe it's been left in another room."

"No, I'm very careful with that one."

"Obviously," he said sarcastically. "Look, I told you I like Patti Smith a lot, too. She's in my top five all-time. I have my own 'Radio Ethiopia' CD in the car. I'll get it and give it to you. Don't be upset. I'll go get another." He also realized that she couldn't be sure if he was merely returning something he did indeed steal, but couldn't think of any better course of action.

She thought; "What a nice gesture. Many of the guys I've known would have taken all the CDs. Some would have kept the box, too."

He came back with the CD and handed it to her. She opened it to see if the disk was in the case. It was. He said, "Even if you think I stole it, here it is back again. I'm not going to take anything from you."

"Except, except, except, except," she smiled.

He returned her smile and said; "I consider that mutual, don't you?"

She chose not to answer directly and after a few seconds she said; "I've got to play this every day."

Bobby said; "My favorite is usually 'Ain't It Strange.'"

She smirked and propelled air through her nose. She said; "I could have guessed that."

He gave her a querying look.

She slightly shook her head and said; "Well, ain't it?"

He unintentionally mimicked her smirk and nose routine and said; "Yeah, I guess so. What's your favorite?"

"The last song, 'Radio Ethiopia.'"

"That's the one I've only partially gotten into."

"You're an idiot." she laughed, "That is the ultimate."

"I hear discord and screaming when I play that one."

She smiled triumphantly and said; "What else is there?"

"Okay, let's play it and you explain to me what I'm missing."

She put on the song and said, "I can't explain feelings to you. You just feel it or you don't."

For the first time in his life, he completely got into "Radio Ethiopia." She could tell. They gave each other play wicked looks........

Music playing on the CD player soon had accompaniment.

Kelly got up and said; "I've really got to get going," sounding rushed as she headed for the door.

As she opened it he said; "Hey, I'm Bobby, what's your name?"

She laughed and said; "I might have guessed that. Mine's Kelly."

"Kelly, when can I see you again?"

"I'll be here tomorrow." She shut the door, went to her car and entered it. He shut off the one small light, separated two of the drawn blinds with his fingers and looked through them. It was now pitch black outside, but the motel had a number of tall electric lights on. He saw a car driving away. It looked like a new light blue Mercedes.

He ate his now cold hamburgers and came back to reality, thinking it would soon be time to get to work. He lay down on the bed and tried to sleep, intending to get back on a normal routine tomorrow.
Chapter 3

He woke at 6AM, like any other work day, walked to the fast food place for breakfast and brought it back. He noticed that the office was closed. He had contradictory thoughts. He hoped to see Kelly because he was fascinated by her and he didn't want to see Kelly, because it would, undoubtedly, hinder his work. While sipping his coffee he opened his dossier. It was a manila folder full of loose papers, containing information about the intended victim.

Alan Simburg. 60 years old. Residence: 239 White Horse Lane, Castillo, NM. Home phone: 505/890-3215, business: 505/890-4288. There were three recent photos showing Simburg to be of medium height, chubby, paunchy, about 230 pounds, with a fleshy, bearded face covered by a bald head with some "Friar Tuck" gray hair around the edges.

He thought, "First sign of a possible problem. Many men fit this general description. Also, they often have something covering their head. So, rule out doing the job in any public place, as it was possible to pick the wrong one. So, focus on the house and car, as the most desirable possible locations for the deed."

The dossier continued; Married to Kelly. 40 years old. Residence: 239 White Horse Lane, Castillo, NM. Home phone: 505/890-3215. No available photos. She has black hair, wears glasses, stands about five foot four, 120 pounds and is considered very attractive.

There are no children and or other household residents. Alan Simburg is the only target. Some information is provided only for your information and guidance. Bobby stopped reading what he thought was unnecessary detail and instead his mind flipped over to; "Could this possibly be the same Kelly he just met? He certainly hoped not, for two reasons; 1) He was falling in love with her and, pragmatically, 2) She could identify him. The probability is that there are many different Kellys in the area, as that is not an uncommon name for women. Some men, too, for that matter. I didn't realize it previously, but Bobby, is also used by both sexes, but seldom in women. Most disturbingly, the description, in words, for whatever they are worth, fits her pretty well."

"My Kelly also said that her husband's business probably wasn't doing well. In that scenario it's not unheard of to borrow mob money, not pay it and then I get called. But, she is about 30, I think."

Bobby never really knew with certainty what his victim's sins were and he didn't care. He would just get a phone call to see if he wanted work and a number to call back with a report, if necessary. But, perhaps to keep his mind occupied, instead of doing a crossword puzzle, Bobby was always compelled to guess at what they did, based on their looks, way of carrying themselves, manner of speech, clothes, where they lived, etc., etc. It usually didn't take long to draw some conclusion, though he had no means of or interest in verification.

However, in this case he needed the certainty. He had to know if this was the Kelly he knew, because the last thing he needed was someone who could make a good description of him. On previous jobs he made as little contact as possible, but this time something had propelled him to act flirty with this girl, standing alone, reading something. And the more he saw, talked to and thought about her, the more intrigued he became. He realized that she already had him thinking in circles. Or, maybe he was creating his own circle. The only practical thing to do was to find out for sure. He could do some surveillance or ask her directly. There were other more indirect methods, too, but they need not be evaluated until the first two options were quicker and time was of the essence.

The second problem: How does he avoid a possible good description? Even if there were two or more different Kellys, he was probably close enough to the job site that people might be questioned about strangers in the area. Possible solution: Again, the same answer as problem number one: Find out about Kelly. Overnight this girl had become the center of his life. He could also consider altering his appearance, though this was not necessarily a good solution, if Kelly was his Kelly. She had not seen him in sunlight. Perhaps he could wear different clothes, a headband or hat, et cetera. But, this approach would necessitate that he never see Kelly again and that she would choose not to make him famous. Fat chance. Come to think of it the first problem, whatever the attempted solution, would suggest the same logic, unless he was missing something.

So after finishing breakfast, he got into his car and went to the gas station. He started the pump, went inside the building and said, "Excuse me, do you know where Castillo, NM is?"

The 18 year old kid said, "You're lucky enough to be in it. Who are you looking for?"

The answer and question confirmed his worst fears, but he retorted, "No one, really. I just read something about it in a book about Indians and wanted to see it. Do you have a local map?"

"Sure, they're free. Take the local paper and there's one in the middle."

"Thanks." He took one and left. He now knew the penalty for not knowing where he was while tired on the road. He should have taken the trouble to find out. He felt like a stupid beginner.

Third problem: Strike three? He just made more local contact. He usually stays a few towns away from the job. This was getting annoying and very risky. He could blame two of the problems on being rushed, but at least one was his own mistake. A harder evaluation would say that two problems were his own fault, but one seemed uncontrollable. He shouldn't have stopped when he didn't know where he was and he shouldn't try to mix business with pleasure, as intoxicated as the latter now seems.

He surveyed the map in the car and proceeded to 239 White Horse Lane. As soon as he saw the road he yelled "Shit!" out loud. It was a single lane, dead end, dirt road, with four houses on it, 239 being the last one.

Fourth problem: He couldn't do any surveillance without risking attracting more attention. This simple semi-rural hit has become a minefield. The only safe solution that seems available is to quit the job. However, when orders are given and accepted in his business he had never heard of any turning back. It may be tantamount to suicide.

He slowly drove down the road, observing the houses, who was there, dogs and generally, whatever could be a hazard to getting in and out. When he got to the end of the road, he saw his Kelly standing in front of a large, one story Southwestern style, flat roofed house. It was stucco finished a very dark brown. Some of the external features advertised that it was not made of adobe as tradition would dictate, but some cheaper modern day substitute. The plentiful windows, some very large, were trimmed with a yellowing white plastic material. The metal front door was painted black. The front of the property was devoid of any trees or bushes, but exhibited a meticulously maintained lawn. One could see many different trees towering above the house in the backyard, or maybe it was from a neighbor's property. The other three houses on White Horse Lane could not be seen from the road at all, the only evidence of their existence being a dirt driveway as opposed to 239's paved one. Alan and Kelly's house seemed to say; "I want everyone to see and admire all of my obvious success." Bobby started to wonder if he had misjudged Kelly. It had happened all too many times before.

He turned around at the end of the driveway to leave, without Kelly looking his way. She probably just thought it was another car making a wrong turn, or another group of people paying homage. Though he hadn't considered himself a lucky person in years, maybe never did, he couldn't help thinking that, with some good luck, he could kill her husband and take Kelly. He felt overdue and he also realized he was fantasizing. He told himself to focus on the job. He didn't need any more problems, or else he would be pondering them from a prison cell. However, she is part of the job. This is getting extremely confusing. Time for a little talk with God?
Chapter 4

He drove to town and got on an outside phone, in the fast food parking lot, to call his number, hoping for an enlightening response.

Ring, ring, ring....

"Yeah."

Bobby said; "Jason?"

"Yeah, again."

"Tony." Bobby's work name.

"What's up?"

"Problems. You're going to have to get somebody else for this one."

"No, I can't. There's a rush order. What's the problem?"

"Hard to describe over the phone. You know me and I haven't given you any bullshit in ten years. But it's kind of not my fault. Things happened because you rushed me here."

"I can double your payoff to $150,000."

Nice how Jason could get right to the point. "I also need more time."

"No more than three or four days."

"Okay."

"Okay." Jason hung up.

He just aimlessly drove a bit before he went back to the motel. Bobby thought about how he might get out of his predicament. Jason didn't sound flexible at all, so he'd have to find some other way. The extra money was nice, but not what he needed. When he got back he noticed that Kelly was in her usual position, behind the office counter, reading. Something seemed different about her at a quick glance. A closer view revealed that she wore a tight, almost red dress. She saw him pull in and went to the door. "Damn," he thought, "I'm trying to keep my mind on work." He soon forgot that though, when she exited the office.

He said; "Kelly."

"Glad to see ya'."

She slowly walked to his car. They looked at each other and nodded slowly. They walked to number eight. He opened the door and they went in.

"Kelly, before we get started, I've got to tell you something and ask you something. Do you love your husband?"

"WHAT? You must be some kind of nut, especially now." She paused and then came back quizzically. "What do you mean, love?"

"I can't answer that. If you know it you feel it."

She said; "I guess so," displaying the beginning of disinterest.

"Is this marriage what you expected it to be at age 16?"

"No," she shrieked. "I grew up. Didn't you?"

"I guess not," realizing she had already answered his original question.

"I am a hit man. I came here to kill your husband."

She said; "Seriously, are you all there?"

"I don't know, are you?"

"Much more than you, apparently." She remembered that she was the beneficiary on a five million dollar life insurance policy old sweetie agreed to buy for her, just prior to marriage, premiums fully paid. She yelled, "I swear to God, all the nuts have a way of finding me. Now, I'm completely out of the mood, so we might as well play your stupid game. All right, Mr. Hit Man, what did my husband do to deserve this?"

"They never tell me. But, usually it's people who don't pay mob debts. When you talked about having to work here lately, I figured that's the most likely case here. I admit, what you're looking at is a lousy hit man. I deserve a grade of about 20. No lie, I usually get 90+, but I am fucking up this job, incredibly, including right now."

She laughed, "How long have you been doing this?"

"Ten years."

She sarcastically said; "What made you choose this line of work?" still thinking that this guy was not all there.

"It was a tragedy I'd rather not talk about and an angry reaction to it."

"You're a psychologist, too, I suppose?" she said derisively.

"You're very difficult."

"Look who's talking."

"Do you really want to hear another tragedy story?

"Entertain me."

Do you prefer long or short stories?"

"As short as possible."

Bobby looked away from her and in staccato fashion quickly rattled off, "In my teen years, I developed a "hippy" type of outlook. I think I got pushed over the brink during the Democratic convention held in Chicago in 1968. I was lucky enough to meet and marry my dream girl, who had a similar viewpoint. She was an artist. We bought and lived in a 200 year old farmhouse in rural New Jersey. Everything was ideal for a few years and then she died of cancer at age 27. I guess I got mad at the world. I met another girl who was born into the mob. She said I'd make a good hit man. She'd purposely piss me off, then say, 'Look at those eyes. You could kill and not give a shit.'"

"So, you've been doing this for ten years. How many hits?" She was beginning to enjoy the game.

"I never counted.... Maybe forty.... Maybe fifty. I'm really not sure."

Kelly snorted and replied; "I'd probably have remembered."

"After the first, it doesn't matter."

She just looked at him puzzled.

He said, "If you've got a 'God thing,' I'm no more guilty for forty than one. I'll get the same punishment."

"'God thing'? How about just a 'Murder is wrong thing?'"

"As soon as the contract is out, the victim is dead. The one who puts out the contract has committed the murder. I only execute. The only question is who is going to get paid for it."

"Have you played this game before?"

"Yeah, I told you forty or fifty times."

Kelly shook her head "No," and said; "I mean telling this kind of story to some chick. Is this what gets you off?"

He thought for a while. "No, it doesn't get me off. Kind of the opposite. Maybe I played it in my head while I was morally justifying my new job to myself." He was now getting tired of this game. "Okay, the hell with this game, let's play yours." He reached for her hand.

She pulled it away and said; "I'm not playing anything now. After this conversation I'm not going to be in the mood for a week. All right, let's say I believe that you're a hit man. Then you missed your calling. What you should have done for a living is turn women off. You do it so well."

Acknowledging the general truth of that statement in his own mind, he cocked his head to the left, raised his eyebrows and said; "You didn't say that yesterday."

She stamped her foot with quick anger. "You son of a bitch. Look, honey lover, I'm going to put on proper attire to continue this bullshit."

She left the room and walked back to the office. She wanted to clear her head a bit and think a while by herself. She took off the tight dress and put on her uniform blue jeans and man's shirt. She thought; "Clearly, he's either a hit man or crazy. I've got to watch myself in either case. So, say, he is a hit man. My heart wouldn't be broken when Alan leaves this world and I'd have $5,000,000. If he's not, I've lost one night's sexcapade. The game is fine with me as long as he doesn't freak out on me. I'll keep playing."

She went back to his room and sat on the bed. He got next to her.

She said; "I've decided that I'm with you, but why are you telling me all this shit?"

"Feeling. The fact that you don't love him makes it easy for me."

"I didn't say that."

"Right, but I concluded that."

She literally jumped in the air; "You're a mind reader too?"

"No, I'm a word reader. My problem is that I think I love you. I can't get you off my mind."

"Come on, we just met. Now, you're a nut for a couple of reasons. Have you got any idea how many times I've heard that one?"

He reached to hold her hand, touched it and she pulled away. She looked at him and saw a hurt little boy and when she was a little girl, she liked little boys a lot. She decided to keep that image out of her head, though. It always ended in a broken heart — hers.

He said, "I'm hungry. Let's cut this for now and get something to eat."

"You're going to kill him?" she said firmly.

"Yes."

"I'm a witness, idiot."

"I told you, I'm doing a really shitty job this time."

She laughed out loud. He was glad; he usually couldn't make anyone laugh.

She said, "Okay, let's walk to the burger place."

"No, you'll have to get it and bring it here. I don't want everyone in town to see me. Or we could drive some other place."

"I'll get the burgers." She wanted more time alone to think, anyway.

As she walked her mind raced; "She had previously thought about a dead husband, except in her dreams it would be due to natural causes. Still she couldn't dismiss the fact that she was an old hippy and still believed in peace, love and nonviolence, all that old time shit. However, new times require new solutions. But this is rather radical. He knew I'd never love him when he married me, to get a fairly young chick he could bring to his business meetings; usually over the barbecue with beer. Of course, I'm not allowed to smoke pot around his associates. I got an insurance policy of no value if he outlives me and of dubious value if he lives an average lifespan, as I'll get the honor of being a rich old bat. I was also supposed to have the right not to work, except to smile and suffer the barbeques, if I didn't feel like it and now that's changed. He reneged on the deal. This isn't the first thing I didn't like. Alan never was anything like a hippy, probably didn't have any idea what they were and didn't care. I've seen some old pictures. When it became stylish for guys to wear bells and grow hair modestly long, he did, succeeding in looking as convincing as a wolf in sheep's clothing. I was never into pure fat and I can't stand those two big bulging eyes constantly staring at me. I don't even want to imagine what he's thinking during the ten minute gawks. She laughed to herself. Come on, Kelly, be practical, be practical. Bobby could be the solution to a lot of problems. He could get caught and I'll be rich. He could get away with it and I could tire of him. Or, maybe I wouldn't. I like that thought, but it's been a long time since I've had a reason to be so optimistic. I don't need another letdown. But, how could I be more let down than I am already. The situation sounds like I can't lose. Uh, oh. What if Bobby's really not a hit man or botches the job? I'll be back where I started. No loss. Okay."

She got to the door of the burger place and thought, "What the hell do I want here?" She figured that one out without much trouble and while walking back with the bag, her old hippy morality enjoyed an uprising. She thought, "No, murder is a big sin in my book. I can't live with a killer. How about an executioner? Too fine a distinction. Consider hard-nosed practicality. What if, somehow he makes me party to the crime and we get caught? I may already be complicit. I better straighten this out because if I wind up in jail, I'll kill myself."

She realized the complexity of the situation and tried to distill it as much as possible. She thought; "If Bobby does kill 'Big Bugga Eyes', I am already a party to the crime, facing possible jail time. If Bobby is working for Alan or the police, I face possible jail time. Condoning murder violates my personal moral code and could result in my being in another type of prison. Of course being with Alan is also like being in prison, OF HIS MAKING. The only good practical solution with complete safety is to hope that Bobby is delusional and really isn't a hit man, or to stop him from killing Alan if he isn't delusional. Of course, this isn't a perfect solution unless Alan dies some other way, without my known involvement. No risk, no reward. No guts, no glory." All this thinking was making her tired, confused and frustrated. When this started all she wanted was a little loving. As she walked back to the motel, she decided not to go through all her thoughts with Bobby. However, she did want to get at least one thing accomplished and that was to eliminate the possibility of her being set up. She remembered that legally a person could not be charged with conspiracy, attempted murder or anything else if the authorities broach the subject first. It becomes entrapment at that point. She thought; "If he's working for Alan and is not a cop, I can always say I was just playing his game. It's my word against his and I have no criminal record. I've never even been arrested. All of this shit just because I wanted a little affection. I think I might quit, forever. Perish that thought. The decision tree contains too many possibilities, at least for my head. I am thoroughly confused. First things first. I'll attempt to stay out of more trouble than I'm already in."

The mid-day sun was in her eyes until she opened the door to the dimly lit room. Kelly, in a firm tone, immediately said; "Okay, smarty, who's doing a shitty job, what is my role in this? And, what do I get for it?"

Bobby was lying down on the bed, smiled, tapped his hand invitingly and said; "You help me kill him and I'll give you me."

She uncontrollably laughed out loud and then said; "Don't I ever get a good deal? But more importantly, I'm not into murder, it would kill me, one way or another."

Seeing the somewhat serious tone Kelly came back with, Bobby sat up in bed, his feet on the floor and replied; "You don't have to do the killing, just kind of set him up. It's simple. I'll tell you how later. Basically, just don't prevent it from happening and don't tell anyone that I did it."

She was surprised at the answer. "You don't understand. I don't believe in any kind of murder. It's not only a matter of my involvement."

"Let's break for a minute. I'm kind of overwhelmed."

She couldn't help but laugh out loud again and she said; "You think you are? Imagine me."

"I have," with a little smile. "You're beautiful when you're angry."

Kelly was persistent and said; "Come on now. There will be no murder. Let's just eat for a while. I'm probably hungrier than you are." They both sat on the carpeted floor, spread out the goodies and began to ravenously munch away.

He said; "The guys I work for never want to hear that."

She mumbled through a mouthful; "Hear what?"

"That there will be no murder."

She just stared at him.

He thought as quickly as he could. He didn't want to risk permanently alienating the woman he had, literally overnight, come to love. He hadn't met anyone like her before and didn't expect to again. But, he also was reticent to antagonize his employers. They weren't the type of people to be on the wrong side of. He had given them his word, which is all you have in this business. And, they had always kept their word to him. He was hopelessly confused. Torn.

He could not risk losing Kelly, so he decided to wing it and see where the conversation would go. He noticeably sighed and said; "All right, say that I don't kill him. I'll have to tell my people that something has changed and it has to be a very good story, like I'm in prison or something. I might get away with it, but it's not a good thing to do. Plus, they always keep their word to me and so far, vice versa. In a short time they'll just send somebody else to kill Alan anyway. He's dead meat."

She especially liked the sound of the last three words, but didn't show it. She got a bit evasive, looking for time, raised her voice and said; "They NEVER lied to you?"

"No."

She just looked. She wasn't sure she could believe that one. She thought; "Maybe he really does believe what he's saying, but he's probably very wrong. Everyone I've ever met lies in one way or another."

In a conciliatory voice, Bobby said, "Like I've already told you, he's probably being hit for debts. If we could pay off his debts maybe I'd be fine." He tried to make her laugh and said; "How much money do you have on you?"

Kelly wasn't amused and thought; "Here comes the scam." She replied; "Nothing. And all I could put my hands on without Alan's signature is only about $1,500." This was the truth, as she only had access to enough money to run the household and it was doled out by Alan, the financial wizard.

Bobby thought that sounded strange, but, figured that if Alan did owe the mob a ton, that there probably wasn't a lot of green stuff around. He also didn't want to start distrusting her, as that was always the beginning of the end and not much had even started yet. He rubbed his hand across his forehead and said; "Then I'd have to borrow money from the mob myself. They might go for the deal. I'll tell them I just promoted myself from hit man to collection man." He laughed. "Kelly, if I get him squared away, you're with me, right?" He realized that he was just thinking out loud and logical as the plan sounded, he had no way of being one hundred percent sure that the voice on the phone would agree.

She was happy and relieved with the financial aspect of his statement, but wanted a bit of clarification on another part and said; "What do you mean, with me?"

"You know. Lovers. Together. Living together."

She was getting to like him a lot and could easily picture herself under the same roof with him. But, she also considered the possibility that after he thought that he had captured her, he might become something other than what he was showing now, on his best behavior. She'd heard of that happening often enough. She didn't want to lie and came up with an in-between response; "What if I decided to leave in a year?"

Bobby didn't want to entertain that thought, but could understand her position. He reflected for a moment and then said; "Fine, a year can be the cut off. Give me that much time. If you want to leave after that, you're free. Dammit, Kelly, I love you."

Realizing that he may have solved her dilemma, she said; "I might love you, too." She decided to put more of her cards on the table and added; "You'll have to find a new job, though. One that doesn't involve murder or whatever you call it."

Bobby didn't want to hear that. He was forty years old and men don't often start new careers at that point. On the other hand he had accumulated a fair amount of money over the last ten years, performing executions, as he preferred calling the work. Maybe he actually could transfer to the Collections Department. Most of all, he wanted a chance with Kelly and that now seemed possible. Fully intending to keep to his word, he said; "I promise."

They held each other. She leaned back to the bed and let him remove her blue jeans and shoes. He got on his knees ........ Sweet, soft music played for too short a time.

She got up. "I lost track of time, baby. I better get home. Alan's been acting a little strange."

He anxiously said; "Please, before you go just tell me two things. I know we're both tired, but since it's already been a draining marathon session, let's complete it today. I'm sure you're a lot like me, but tell me what you're all about. Then tell me about Alan. It could be useful."

Kelly said; "I'm going to be brief. We're going to have plenty of time to elaborate on things in the near future. I was a smart unhappy kid who also adopted the "hippy" culture. I couldn't wait to get to college, in the hope of meeting others like me. When I got there, I found some and a number of us lived on a commune. My problem was that the guys didn't want to bring children into this world and I did. The communal life went on until I was 35 and I gave up. I married Alan primarily for financial security, but at first I was considering children. After knowing him awhile I decided that I definitely didn't want a baby blood related to Alan. I considered having one by someone else, but decided not to, because Alan would still be the male with the most influence over the child. You have a good idea of the rest. So, here I am, with those two bulging eyes watching me .......... Whenever he can find me, that is." She laughed.

Bobby was looking right into her green eyes and sobbed; "Maybe it's still possible."

"What?"

"Children."

"I'm no youngster anymore."

"To me, you'll always be young."

Kelly brushed her hand under Bobby's cheek. He took her hand in his and kissed it. She said; "Thanks, really. I should get going, so let me fill you in on Alan. He grew up during the Depression. His family was fairly well off, but not what I'd call rich. He was a fat, not particularly bright kid, who looked 40 when he was 15. He was made fun of by both boys and girls. The only thing he knew for sure was that when he had money to spend, most of the other kids acted as his friends. The wrong conclusion he came to was to attempt to buy those he could, while ignoring and disdaining the others, who potentially could have been REAL friends. Now, it seems that he isn't even bright enough to properly take care of the money end. Maybe if he watched the long green half as much as he watched me, he'd be much better off." She paused a second or two, then added; "Hey, honey lover, I've really got to get going. Alan might come looking for me here."

Bobby still had moisture in his eyes when he said; "You were burned into my soul before birth."

She leaned over, again putting her left hand under his chin and kissed him on the lips. She said; "Everything's going to be all right." She turned and exited. He sighed, watching her depart. He didn't want to move. He needed rest and knew she did too. He was content to think that neither of them was still confused, at least not completely.

She drove home. Alan was there looking his customary disgruntled. It was 9PM. Kelly walked in the front door and was immediately greeted with a loud, demanding voice, which said; "I was just at the office and you weren't there. Where were you?"

Kelly calmly replied; "Wasn't Mindy supposed to work today?"

"No, Mindy works only Wednesday, Thursday and Friday, except, usually the second week of the month when she does typing for a small time local writer. Some weeks he has nothing to type, then...."

"Enough, I get the idea." She felt the usual disdain. She could get him off his main track so easily. "Don't give me all the details. Just write down which days I'm supposed to be there and I'll be there. The times would be helpful, too."

He went off, collecting some papers, to accomplish the task that might take hours, especially since there was some uncertainty involved. As he turned away, scurrying on to try to do as he was told, she couldn't help but think, "What an asshole, no wonder his business is a mess."

She put on a CD, whichever one she put her hands on first. She just wanted to drown out his tedium. "Hey, Alan, I'm so tired, I think I'll drowse off right here, okay?" The sound of Simon and Garfunkel singing "Homeward Bound" almost soothed her nerves and then she saw the "Big Bugga Eyes" on her and heard his voice.

"Okay, I'll have this schedule for you in a while."

"Just leave it somewhere I can find it."

"I'll put it on top of the refrigerator."

She lay down on the couch and closed her eyes, temporarily oblivious to the imitation Spanish décor, courtesy of Sears's bargain basement and Alan's taste. The part she liked best was the dents and scratches. The mini-mogul tried to cope with his uncertainty problem.
Chapter 5

It was a pleasant, but arduous day and Bobby, too, was tired. He needed to eat again, but didn't feel like moving. He kept thinking about the call he would have to make to Jason and the possibilities of how it could play out. This would be a new one for him. He never previously entered into any conversation with Jason that even bordered on negotiation. It was always a matter of yes or no and keeping to your word. This would require some finesse and cajoling. After a half hour of contemplating, which didn't result in anything that he failed to envision at square one, he came to a conclusion. He hated unfinished business and wouldn't be able to sleep anyway, so he decided to call Jason and try to wing it. He left the motel and drove about ten miles to a truck stop with public phones. Ring, ring ......

"Yeah."

"Jason, its Tony."

"Hey, Tony. It's done, right."

"Not exactly. I've got more complications."

"Tony, that's not my problem. I already got you all the money I can. Time for results."

"You'll get results. I've still got two or three days, you said."

"That's a gift cause I like you. I had to talk to some unhappy people to straighten this out. It really was expected by tomorrow, worst case, day after."

"Hey, Jason, thanks man, really. We have a beautiful relationship. I'm not asking for any more money or time. I can have this done by the day after tomorrow. But it's not going to be the usual thing."

"Tony, beautiful relationship or not, you're making me get nervous."

"Let me run this by you. The guy here has a great business. He's just an asshole who keeps fucking it up. How much does he owe?"

"I don't know if he owes anything. All I know is someone wants a job done."

"This looks like a bad loan. Can you find out somehow?"

"My people don't like a lot of questions. They might think I'm getting smart."

"Look, Jason, this is the way I figure it. I'm having bad complications with the job. The businesses he owns look like good ones. If I could pay off his loans, I'll become his partner, keep my eye on him and get a regular check forever. The people who gave out the job probably want the money more than they want his corpse. Hey, you know I haven't given you any bullshit for ten years and I've done things exactly the way you like them, rush jobs and all. Do me this one favor, I'll owe you. Find out what's the problem, if and what he owes and if I can get a break on the interest for collecting, blah, blah, blah. I'll borrow the money. Vinny will give me anything I want. C'mon, man, just this once."

Silence persisted for a few seconds. Jason's voice was far from happy when he said; "I'll do what I can. Call me back in two hours." He hung up the phone.

Bobby drove around alone in the desert, with Kelly on his mind. He thought; "She seems so great. Maybe with her I could patch up this miserable life. Her's too. However, talking to Jason always brought him back down to earth. What if the money he would have to borrow would be too much for him to handle? How would this affect her? Money problems aren't a seed for good relationships. What if in a short time she hates me? It's happened before; in fact, now that I think about it, it's a regular pattern. Monica, his wife, was the exception, but there was only one her. Kelly's not the same, but similar in some ways, very different in others. Kelly's got a damn good temper and who knows what she'll do if she really gets mad or nervous? What if I don't like her after I know more about her? If she was so great, why did she need to find this creep who she doesn't even like? Desperation? She's pretty enough to have hooked up with a lot of guys if she turned on the charm. She really hasn't shown much traditional charm. But, I like her honesty a lot. You know where you stand with her. Black or white in a gray world."

He caught himself. He was getting lost in a daydream at a time he needed to be practical. "The hell with all the possibilities. Time to perform. Try to handle whatever comes. You can never figure anything out using logic anyway. People are not logical and do the most unexpected things. Go with your first instincts: She's great and trust her. Once distrust enters, everything turns sour, anyway."

He didn't realize the passage of time while he was going around in circles with these thoughts. What seemed like ten minutes was actually two hours and it was time to call Jason back. He drove back to the truck stop. Under the harsh overhead lighting he could see women of varying shapes and sizes climbing onto the cab steps of the parked big rigs. Sometimes they were invited in. Sometimes they giggled and went to the next one. Sometimes they laughingly and animatedly conversed with each other. It struck him as pathetic.

He dialed his magic number. After two rings he heard Jason's consistent opening line.

"Yeah."

"Jason, its Tony."

Bobby was relieved when he listened to Jason, again, get right to the point, saying; "You owe me a big one, but I got a deal. Money is all that's involved. He owes about four million dollars. They'll reduce that by one million for the collection fee and they'll eat some of the interest. You got it, Tony, three million dollars or a corpse. I swear to God I had to push and you're getting the best deal possible. You sure you can get the money from Vinny?"

"No problem. I'll be in touch in a day or two. Thanks a lot, man." Bobby hung up.
Chapter 6

Bobby wanted to be sure everything was in its proper place and made another call. Ring, ring, ring, ring. He thought; "Come on, Vinny. Don't fuck me up." Ring, ring. An answer.

"Who the fuck is disturbing my card game?"

"Vinny, it's Tony."

"Hey, good to hear from you, it's been a while. Odd time to call. You must be desperate. What's up?"

"I've been all over the country, you know, working hard. I haven't been taking a lot of breaks lately. Sorry I lost track of time. How have you been?"

"Same old, it's been easy. Maybe after the market got used to the quick, efficient hits, they come up with the money quick. Some of these guys would have their wife, mama and babies doing porn before they risk seeing guys like you. I've been playing a lot of cards, taking it easy. Hey, do you finally want to borrow some money? You know, I'll give you the best rate."

"You're a mind reader. Yeah, three million."

Vinny was surprised. "You're shitting me, right?"

"No, I'm dead serious."

"What for?"

"You've been offering money to me for years, no strings. Now you got questions. The answer is business ... mine."

"Hey, okay, okay. Just making conversation. When are you going to pick it up?"

"Day after tomorrow, if possible."

"I'll be ready, my friend."

"See you then."

"All right."

Vinny's operation was in Vegas. It'd be a long day tomorrow; he was hoping to relax and see Kelly early and tell her a few things and wished time would slow down. He went back to the motel and was able to sleep.
Chapter 7

At 9AM he drove to White Horse Lane. Two cars were in the driveway, Kelly's light blue Mercedes and a black Caddy of recent vintage. Both were probably home. He rang the doorbell. Kelly came quickly to the door.

"What are you doing here? Alan's still home."

"If he comes out now, tell him I'm from Santa Fe National Bank soliciting business. I have to talk to you this morning. We have to get on the same wavelength for business tonight."

"Give me an hour and I'll meet you at the motel. Get out of here." She closed the door in his face. He drove back to his number eight room.

Alan entered the front room, with a towel to his face, as a result of rushing out of the bathroom and said, "Who was that at the door?"

"Some guy looking for business from a New Mexico bank I never heard of. I thought you might want to see him, so I told him to come back at six."

Alan seemed pleasantly surprised. "Good show. I should be back by then. Maybe he'll be of some use. I've got to get off to work now." He started to walk way, turned and added, "Kelly, if he gets here before me, try not to talk at all about business. If he asks anything, tell him you don't know anything and have him wait for me. Put on some soft music and bore him telling him about it."

"Easy enough."

He left and she thought, "Bore him!!! I couldn't possibly bore him as much as Alan did me. I suppose that if they gave me a nickel for every song I played, Alan would soon love music and not allow me to stop playing it. Son of a bitch!"

While driving Alan reflected on his plan for the night. "He's probably going to try to get me to borrow money, that's what they all do. Of course, the mafia loans don't show on the balance sheet, so I can give him a look at certain financial statements that won't look too badly. I have to make the initial impression impeccable; as if I don't really need any loan. Damn, I should have told Kelly to put on some decent clothes. Bankers are not impressed with jeans and T-shirts. I'm not either. At least she should dress her age."
Chapter 8

Bobby was back in his room, waiting for Kelly. He was horny, visualizing her naked very full hips, other parts, too. Come to think of it, the whole package. They had some plans to go over and a long day, but he couldn't concentrate in his state of mind. Kelly showed up.

"All right, what's the big deal?"

"Plenty, today's a big day. Are you a morning person?"

"Don't start! I'm chasing around a bit and I'm not in the mood."

"You need to relax. You know the best way?"

She laughed out loud, simultaneously, feeling her first warmth of the day and said; "Okay, but a fast one."

Both removed their blue jeans and ....

A short song played somewhere.

They lay still about ten minutes, looking at each other somewhat dazed and sometimes just staring at the cracks in the ceiling.

Bobby was compelled to break the silence and said; "Time for business, Kelly. Last night I made arrangements to borrow three million dollars. This should go pretty easily. I'll show up at 6PM and you pretend I'm the guy from the bank. I enter and meet your husband. After a while I'll pull my gun. When he calms down, I'll handcuff him and you help me tie him to the chair. Do you have some clothesline around?"

"I don't know."

"Well, if you don't, go get some. A lot."

"Okay, but you said no killing."

"The gun is just to get him calm and reasonable. Worst case, I'll fire a shot at the ceiling, probably hit something like a chandelier to remind him it's loaded."

"I'd feel better if it wasn't at our house, but I'll trust you."

"Great. I'm trusting you, too. I'll then offer him the best deal of his life. Everything should be fine. If you disagree with anything you see or hear, tell me about it later. Oh, Kelly, when we were talking about money, things have been going so fast that I forgot to tell you I have about one million dollars in a safe deposit box. I knew I'd have to use it all in this deal anyway."

"I trust you. Let's not split yet. I know a movie theatre five miles away that plays old films. Let's go sit in the dark for a while."

"Anywhere with you is great with me. I like old movies anyway. I might fall asleep, though."

They took her Mercedes and she drove silently to the appointed spot. They parked in the small dirt lot, which looked as if it had not been maintained or repaired for some time. It contained no other cars. They saw the plastic lettered marquee indicating that "All That Heaven and Earth Allow" was playing. Neither of them knew the film. As they walked to the ticket booth they noticed that the stills were in black and white.

Bobby said; "The title suggests that this is going to be a long one."

Kelly looked at him, with a bit of an incredulous posture and deadpanned; "Not if it had a good editor."

The ticket booth was empty when they got there, so they walked right inside. They shuffled around the lobby looking at the stills on the wall, keeping an eye out for help. When none came in a few minutes, they decided to walk right in. As he was opening the door a woman of about sixty entered the lobby from another door, trailed by a man of similar age. She had long gray hair and dressed younger than her years. His countenance was more of a disheveled acquiescence to his time, wearing proper attire that was maintained as well as the parking lot. He also had long gray hair, though much of the middle was now missing. He seemed somber. The old woman smiled at the venturesome couple and said; "It's already started, so go right in and enjoy it."

Kelly said; "We really should pay you something, shouldn't we?"

The older woman replied; "No. It's already playing and it's too much trouble for me to start handling money right now. We've got other things to do." She looked at her companion and smiled. He silently followed her out through the same door previously used as the entry.

Bobby and Kelly simultaneously said "Thanks" and continued through the door which led to the screening room. No one else seemed to be there, though they couldn't be sure in the dark. He followed her down the center aisle to furry seats about 10 rows from the screen, right in the middle of it.

The movie was at a point where the actions and dialogue made no sense to them. If there were any way to succinctly describe what they saw and heard, it would probably be worry, combat and randomness, with no obvious logic. They leaned heads and shoulders against each other and quickly fell asleep.

They woke up to a crescendo of classical music, apparently the end. Still half asleep they watched the two lovers on the screen hold each other. As it was early in their awakening, they could have been wrong, but visually, it seemed that the two screen characters merged. He became her and she him. Kelly and Bobby both had the same thought. The merger could be an illusion caused by their dreary state, but they would have bet their lives, that at the very least, her eyes became his and vice-versa.

The movie did end right there and the two stood up to leave. Each knew the thoughts of the other, so they exchanged questioning and knowing looks as they walked. Neither knew the right thing to say and didn't want to ruin the mood. They slowly walked back to her car, the bright sun shocking them back to the reality of the moment.

Bobby said; "You've got the plan nailed down, right?"

She nodded yes in a subdued, but confident manner, her mind still partially in the theatre. She silently drove him back to the motel, slowly regaining 100% focus on the anticipated event of the evening. When she pulled into a parking space in front of his room, he leaned over and kissed her on the mouth. For some reason he was concerned about her and gently said, "Are you all right?"

She said; "I'm good. This hasn't been a bad day, even after the rocky start you caused."

He touched her hand gently, exited the car and went into his room. She drove back home.

The day got even better, when she found clothes line in the house. It must have been left by the previous owner. It gave her plenty of time to picture the events. She thought that it was a good plan. The only tricky part was how Alan would react if and when he realizes he's not going to get shot. She hoped he didn't start haggling for a better deal. She sat on the couch.

Bobby thought; "Isn't she great? Most anybody would have asked a million questions about the million dollars and why I didn't tell her earlier, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. He sat down on a chair, turned the TV on and relaxed. He saw a news program which showed the continuation of the right wing Republican onslaught. He thought that if anyone could stop it, it would at least take a husband and wife team in the mold of Franklin and Eleanor. He probably dozed a bit and roused at 5PM. He had time for a last minute check. He found his .32 handgun and spun the chamber. It was fully loaded, though he decided to bring another small package of bullets. He had the handcuffs and key. What else might he need? Nothing he could think of. He sat, not thinking of a thing except the possibilities of the next few hours. It seemed simple; either a smart Alan complies or a stupid Alan doesn't. The latter thought was an insoluble problem for him, as he intended to keep his "no killing" promise to Kelly. This would leave Alan in a position to identify not only him, but Kelly's involvement. He hoped Alan was brighter than his business dealings indicated.

The thought disturbed him. The only thing he really knew about Alan was that he made a mess of things. It didn't seem especially difficult to run a motel and a few other dink operations in a small town. If he didn't gamble or whore, how could he lose more than three million dollars seemingly fast? He didn't sound like he was likely to go the gambling, whoring route, but he couldn't be sure. People can be surprising. One thing for certain; people quickly get reasonable with a gun in their face. He hoped for the best. He didn't want to break his promise to Kelly and then tell her that he didn't lie to her, as the gun went off "accidentally."
Chapter 9

Bobby got to their house at 5:50PM. His nature was always one which was anxious to get things moving. He rang the bell.

She came to the door.

"C'mon in. You're the bank fellow, aren't you? I'm sorry; I don't recall your name?"

At that moment he realized he should have told her not to ask any questions at all. "Tom Hall" came to mind.

"Come on inside, Mr. Hall, Alan will be with you momentarily."

Alan entered the front room. "Tom Hall. I couldn't help but hear your name. I'm Alan Simburg. Alan. May I call you Tom?"

"Feel free."

"Okay, Tom, follow me."

Bobby was hoping the man would lead him to some interior room because some neighbor just might be looking into the exterior ones.

Luckily, Alan led him to a library which fit the bill. "In here."

The room was lined with red mahogany stained, Queen Anne period, full bookcases, with simple and graceful curves. In the center stood a large desk, like a grammar school teacher's in the 1950's and four differently styled chairs. The largest was behind the desk. The remaining three were on the other side of it. A Mariner's hurricane styled lamp sat on the desk, which had papers strewn about. There didn't seem to be anything else in the room, except a few variously sized Persian rugs placed randomly on the floor. Bobby couldn't read the book titles, but they were very neatly kept, a mixture of hard cover and paperback. Overall, the room had a soft, warm, neat, busy and questioning feel. Complicated.

Alan offered, "This is really my wife's room, right, Kelly? I rarely read a thing." He was about to offer Bobby a seat when he turned and saw a gun pointed right at him. He didn't know guns, but it looked big enough to do some damage.

Bobby said; "This is a loaded gun, pal. Relax; I don't want to use it." Alan was dumbfounded and speechless. "Okay, Alan, I'd like you to turn around and put your hands behind your back. I'm going to cuff you."

Alan: "Why cuff me?" not offering his arms.

Bobby: "Because this is a loaded gun, you stupid fuck. I just want to talk to you for a few minutes, then I'll release you."

Alan: "I don't like this."

Bobby's worst possible scenario fears popped into his mind. "This jerk questions and talks back to a loaded gun. This could be difficult." He said; "You're not supposed to like it." He put the gun against the back of Alan's head after smacking it slightly off his ear. "Give me those fucking arms now."

Alan complied. Bobby slipped on the cuffs with his left hand and held the gun in his right. "Take a seat."

Alan chose a Mission type, which was angular and severely utilitarian, with a light finish. It was good enough that it could have been done by Stickley, but this was a copy.

Kelly brought over the clothesline. Bobby put the gun down on the desk and they proceeded to tie Alan to the chair he had chosen.

Alan: "Kelly, what are you doing?"

Kelly: "I'm with him. Don't worry. We're both on your side."

Alan: "Nice way to show it."

Bobby: "Okay, Alan. Let me have your attention. You're going to hear some things you might not want to hear. But if you think about them a while, you'll see you're getting the best possible deal." Kelly and Bobby nodded at each other. "I was sent here by the mob to kill you. I'm a hit man, among other things. By chance, Kelly found out and insisted that I not do it. I agreed. I can keep my employers happy if I give them the loan money rather than your corpse. So here's the deal of your life. I'll straighten you out with the mob completely. You divorce Kelly, give her $100,000 and make sure that $5,000,000 insurance policy is paid up. This will be handled by an attorney representing Kelly. And Kelly will keep all her books, CDs and records, on the spot recalling that Alan had described the library as Kelly's room.

Kelly smiled when she heard the consideration. Things had been going so fast she forgot about them.

The room was silent for about five seconds.

Alan: "What's in it for you, Tom?"

Bobby: "Not your concern."

Alan: "It's Kelly, isn't it?"

Bobby: "Kelly and I share some mutual interests, but that's irrelevant to you. Will you accept the best business deal of your life or not?"

Alan sat quietly, apparently mulling over the situation. In 15 seconds or so, he said; "How can I be sure that you'll pay off my loans?"

Kelly: "Bobby, if you keep answering him, we'll be here all night and get nowhere."

Alan: "Bobby!!?? You told me your name was Tom. That really helps giving me a lot of faith in your word. Now, I don't even know whose word it is."

Bobby considered how he wanted to answer that. He couldn't think of any easy short reply, so he decided not to make any response at all. He also was starting to see that with this guy, the more words he said, the more tangents Alan would pursue. He stood silently, slightly shaking his head.

Kelly walked slowly with her head to the floor and sat in the "teacher's chair" on the other side of the desk. It was hard to tell if its style was associated with any particular movement. It was sturdy, on the large side, with a weathered, light finish. One might use the word patina. Its authoritarian size was tempered by rounded edges. On the back top rail was a black magic marker drawing of a dog's head, with the name "Willy" written underneath. He had a very silly expression and big, smiling eyes. The desk itself was similar to the chair, with three drawers on each side and one in the middle, all with Victorian hardware, perhaps a bit ostentatious. A closer inspection, if done, would reveal that some of the hardware was loosely attached. There was a kneehole in the middle where a student could see the teacher's legs. Unfortunately, the current occupant was wearing pants.

Kelly: "Alan, forget about his fucking name. As far as you're concerned 'Killer' will suffice. So let's first come to some basic agreement."

Alan: "You're on his side completely, aren't you?"

Kelly: "Stop saying delaying, irrelevant things that you've already been told. Bobby is a hit man sent here to kill you. If I hadn't accidently intervened, you'd be dead already, I'd be getting five million dollars and Bobby would be plus $150,000 instead of having to pay your mob loans. You tell me who the winner here is measured by your own standards. We really don't get along. We annoy and have no appreciation for each other. After your money situation is fixed, you can get a more suitable show wife."

Alan: "I don't know where I'm going to get a show wife. I won't be left with that much money!"

Kelly, obviously annoyed: "Buy one from fucking Taiwan! You know, you've reminded me of some old joke where the armed holdup man says 'Your money or your life!' and the reply is 'Let me think about that a while.'"

Alan actually laughed at the old joke, seeing the point, but he also absorbed the truth that made it funny. He said nothing.

Kelly: "Bobby, let's give him some privacy for a while and let him think about it."

She led Bobby into the adjoining kitchen. He was surprised how quickly she took charge of the situation. The shared door was left open, to keep an eye on Alan.

Kelly: "I'm afraid something bad is brewing. If he delays long enough, he might figure a way out of the ropes; someone might come to the door; or other things I can't think of might happen. Time must be considered. The point is, if stupid gets free, we're both in deep shit and some other hit man is going to get him anyway. We'll all lose."

Bobby: "I think you're right."

Kelly: "So what do we do now?"

Bobby, laughing: "Let me kill him. It'll look like a mob hit. They'll investigate for a short time and then turn it over to the Feds, who will add this to their list of unsolved crimes."

Kelly: "Let's just sit here a while and give him some time to think about it."

Bobby: "You have real fire in your eyes when you get mad. It turns me on."

Kelly: "Now I'm stuck with two stupid guys. How can you think about that at a time like this?"

Bobby just shook his head, with a faint smile. They sat in silence for about fifteen minutes, eyeing Alan through the door.

Bobby: "Ready."

Kelly: "Yeah."

Bobby: "If Alan starts negotiating again, let me handle it."

They walked back to the library. The ropes prevented Alan from moving much and he was glumly sitting, looking at the floor.

Alan: "I'm beginning to understand your position. If I get a Taiwanese wife, she'll be younger and do what I tell her."

Bobby: "Is that a yes?"

Alan: "Closer to yes than before."

Bobby: "What else do you want?"

Alan: "More money. You know yourself Kelly is worth her weight in gold. Besides paying off my loans, I want a million. Business is lousy, you know."

Kelly immediately deduced that Alan was opening another front. She thought; "He's trying to put Bobby in the position of saying that I'm not worth the money. If Bobby plays into it, Alan thinks that this could be a possible rift between us." To counteract the new ploy, she said firmly to Bobby; "Don't pay it."

Bobby: "In the kitchen." He grabbed Kelly around the shoulders and led her there.

Bobby: "This time I need to think about it."

Kelly: "Think about what? He's just continuing his bullshit game. He hopes we're dumber than he is."

Bobby: "What can I do? We should settle everything as quickly as possible. You said so yourself."

Kelly: "Shoot him in the leg, or maybe even a more useless part." She laughed.

Bobby: "You said no shooting."

Kelly: "I said no murder."

Bobby: "What makes you think this will do any good?"

Kelly: "It worked in some old B movie."

Bobby laughed. The more he learned about this girl, the more impressed he was. He said; "The problem is, if we shoot and leave him alive, not only will we be caught, but they will have a serious, easily provable charge against us. Hey, I've got an idea. Lean over." He whispered; "Let's play as if we're having an argument in here. I'll be saying, 'Let's just kill the fuck' and you'll be saying, 'Let's give him one more chance.'"

Kelly, loudly: "No, you can't."

Bobby, loudly: "What's to stop me? It's the easiest way out for both of us."

Kelly, loudly: "I don't care."

Bobby, loudly: "Well, maybe I'll kill you, too."

Kelly, loudly: "I'll ignore that coming from a loudmouth. Okay, can you just shoot him in the ass or something?"

Bobby, resolutely: "The next time I get any crap, I'll shoot him in the fucking kneecap and he'll be crippled for life. If I still get crap, I'll take out the other knee cap. The Taiwanese bitch will have to carry him to the toilet."

They both smiled at each other, then she actually started to laugh out loud, but put her hand over her mouth and the sound resembled a cough. He grabbed her around the shoulders again.

Bobby: "You're absolutely fantastic."

Kelly just smiled at him and shook her head from side to side, with her hand still over her mouth.

Alan was thinking; "If I say that I'll take the deal, my loans will be paid. I can then go to the police and say that these two threatened my life. They probably have other things against him already. Best of both worlds. It's worth a shot." What he didn't know was that if he reneged on a deal made with someone connected to the mob, he would be hit. Period.

Bobby and Kelly again entered the library.

Alan: "The more I think about it, the more I like the deal. I'll take it."

Bobby: "Good man. I thought that the longer you pondered, the more your head would clear. These are pretty big decisions and you must be shocked having them sprung on you so suddenly."

Alan: "I see everything your way now."

Bobby smiled at him.

Alan couldn't fight his nature long and was compelled to try to get more. He said; "Except the one hundred thousand. I think it was payment to Kelly for the divorce. You know, business hasn't been blockbuster."

Kelly: "Son of a bitch. You can get it if you want. We need it." She walked to the "teacher's seat" and fell into it, staring at Alan.

Bobby needed to sit. Kelly would handle it for a while. He chose the plushier chair. It had been a long day and it appeared far from over. The chair was, like the bookcases, of the Queen Anne variety, more obvious in this case due to the gently curving cabriole front legs, minimal adornment save the worn front knee carvings. It too was stained a red mahogany, weathered much like Kelly's chair. The top was curved, with a flower pattern for the splat. The upholstered seat was a well-worn pattern of faded lines, an inch wide, colored red, yellow, green, purple, white, orange, black, blue, brown and some indescribable colors in between, separated by gold lines. It must have been very appreciated in its time. Now stains covered about 20 percent of it. A good upholsterer could do wonders.

Alan to Kelly: "You have no concept of money. You just don't wish it there."

Kelly: "Okay, Alan," she said calmly. "Let me state the fairness of the deal once more: You give up me and $100,000. You get the mob loans paid. You'll be alive. I give up the five million dollar insurance payment, my rights to whatever assets you have and my rights to a portion of your income. I get this jerk over here," smiling and pointing at Bobby, "who is saddled with a three million dollar debt and gave up the $150,000 he would have gotten for simply killing you and I keep my books. All we want is $100,000 to start a new life. What, in what I described, is wrong or unfair to you?"

Alan: "Maybe I can get $40,000, but then I'll be really strapped."

Kelly just looked away in disgust.

Bobby: "You got the deal. $40,000 it is."

Alan: "I said maybe."

Bobby thought, he did say maybe, I'm getting over anxious: "Yes, you did."

Kelly: "Let me try to make this as simple as possible one last time. If you are killed, you are dead and I am rich. I'm giving up plenty to be nice to you, for no good reason."

Alan just stared.

Bobby to Alan: "Kelly and I have some things to talk about in the kitchen. You think real hard about what we've said. Time for conversation is over."

Bobby rose, walked over to Kelly and offered his hand. She took it, got up and they again went to the kitchen.
Chapter 10

Bobby just looked at her, shaking his head questioningly. "It's getting time for drastic action."

Kelly: I told you, no killing."

Bobby stood in silence for a minute, looking into her adamant eyes. "Then tell me how to make him move."

Kelly: "I don't know. I've said everything I can think of already."

Bobby: "Let's try this. If it doesn't work, I'll give up, get out of here, you'll be in trouble and somebody else will come kill him. I'm going to rough him up a little and fire a shot. I won't hit him."

Kelly: "Be careful, very careful."

Bobby: "Promise. In the meantime, let's give him another ten minutes to get rational. Just before we go back to the library, let's have another loud argument about it." Bobby grabbed her hand, squeezed it, turned away and noticed the clock said 7:30. He just stared out the window at a backyard full of trees. It was more like a forest than a desert; maybe desert oasis was a better word. He saw at least ten small birds in the minimal light, some flying, some perched, some hopping about. "Kelly, are you a bird watcher?"

Kelly: "Since I was a little girl."

Bobby: "What's so fascinating about birds? Why have they kept your interest so long?"

They both knew any answer would not do justice to the subject. She knew much too much and he knew little. Neither spoke for a while.

The clock read 7:40. Bobby and Kelly screamed, "I'll kill him!" "No, you won't!" and things in that vein for a minute. They smiled at each other and went back to the library, hopefully for the last time tonight.

Alan was very alert and greeted them with "I've got a number of problems with the deal."

Kelly winced, looked away from him and walked slowly to the chair she had formerly occupied, put her hands on the back and stood there.

Bobby walked over to Alan and slapped him in the face with the back of his hand twice. "We're through fucking around. Time is up, asshole. Deal or not?"

Alan: "Don't think you're scaring me. If you were going to kill me, you'd have done it already."

Bobby took out his gun again, waved it at Alan, fired a shot into the ceiling, put the gun under Alan's chin and screamed, "You are the dumbest ass I ever met and I'll enjoy killing you." He crouched down, moved the gun about an inch away from Alan's chin and fired another shot, causing powder burns on Alan's face. This shot, too, hit the ceiling.

Alan, seemingly unflustered, said, "I know you won't do it. Also, some of Kelly's books may be collector's items. I'm entitled to some compensation for their value."

Bobby put the gun down on the desk as Alan started to try to break free from the ropes, jerking the chair around. Bobby went to him to try to keep him still. What they both didn't notice, with their backs to her, was that Kelly calmly walked over, picked up the gun, continued to walk, put the gun to the back of Alan's head and pulled the trigger once. Blood and gore shot out of the exit wound on Alan's face.

Kelly, calmly: "I just can't stand it when he gets that fucking stupid." She stood motionless with the gun still pointed in the same direction.

Bobby took the gun from her and put it in his pocket.

Bobby: "Shit, Kelly; are you okay? How do you feel?"

Kelly: "I don't feel anything. What am I supposed to feel?"

Bobby: "I don't know. The first one was hard for me."

Kelly: "We gave him every chance."

Bobby: "Now I have a good reason not to have a gun around the house."

Kelly laughed. "That blood was his biggest blast in decades. I did him a favor. Now he can go try to negotiate with God."

Bobby started to laugh too. He said; "That's a damn good geyser you got going. Maybe I should say geezer geyser." A spurt exited and came close to hitting Bobby. He stepped back, laughed again and said; "Shit. Too good."

Kelly, too, retreated and said; "Damn. I don't want to get any of that on me."

"For a few reasons, I'd imagine, at least one very practical."

Kelly laughed again and said; "The other one was the thought that came to mind."

Bobby said; "What a choice of words, you horny little devil. Now, he has gotten his final deal. I hope he's, at last, satisfied." Bobby winced and added; "Pardon me. I must be in the same state of mind."

She smiled, viciously and said; "Oooh, I'd love to put out his fucking booga eyes."

He laughed again, loudly this time and said, "Shit, I hope I never get you mad at me."

Kelly continued her lascivious stare and said; "You want to do it right here. That would be as perverse as I can imagine."

They held each other, laughing increasingly loudly until it reached maximum levels. They kissed passionately.

Bobby broke away and said; "We've got very little time. We've got to get your story straight. I've got to get out of here and you have to deal with the cops. The spouse is always the first suspect, though they won't say that."

"So I'll have to make the report and field their questions. Where was I when it happened?"

"The best answer would be some place you regularly go."

"I don't regularly go anywhere. Before I married Alan, I lived here with some old hippy friends. I still see them, but pretty infrequently."

"Do they all live together?"

"Used to, not any more. They all have their own places, but sometimes move around a bit."

"Elsewhere?"

"No, sometimes two decide they want to live together a while and do. But, they all have their own places here in Castillo."

Bobby said; "I think it's better to say that you were just driving around. The cops will investigate your alibi and sometimes friends fuck it up. The cops will have you under suspicion for only a short time. In a matter of days the local cops will call in state people. When someone who knows what they're doing gets here, they'll see this looks exactly like a mob hit. They have their ways of finding out when people owe the bad boys. Then they'll forget about you and a report will be filed in some central location where they 'monitor' stuff that looks mob related. So I think the easiest thing is just to say you were driving around from 7 to 8:30PM and stopped for an unseen walk by the river part of the time and just keep repeating the story. Involving another person could lead to a complication. There could be some twist from what I say, but you're smart enough to wing it."

"One of my old friends has lived through a few police investigations. It was drug related stuff, in France. He was loyal and never did anything stupid. He hates cops and really likes to screw them around."

"You'd have to fill him in very quickly. He may not be home. He may not want cops visiting if he's holding anything. And, Kelly, people sometimes change. If the cops can get him for anything, he might trade you. What were your friends' reactions when you married Alan? Perhaps, sell out? By the way, I've been meaning to tell you that Kelly Simburg is one of the silliest names I've ever heard. What was your maiden name?"

"Kelly Patrick."

"That's a little silly, too. You need a new last name."

"What's yours?"

"Kowalski."

"Get out of here! Kelly Kowalski sounds worse than Kelly Simburg."

"I'll change it before you marry me."

"We'll figure that one out later. In the meantime, I see your points and I'll go the alibi route alone. If they carry it too far, I'll stop talking to them and get a lawyer."

"Good. Cry a lot. You'll also later get a visit from the insurance company cops. Just stay with the story. They shouldn't hang around too long. Maybe they'll just copy the official police reports."

"No problem. By that time I'll have it down to an art form." She laughed. "By the way, how do you know all this stuff?"

Bobby caressed her hips, smiled and said; "I saw it in some old B movie."

She chuckled thinking that those old movies weren't good for only entertainment.

He said; "Seriously, I'm going to have to get out of here. We probably shouldn't risk seeing or calling each other for at least a month. I'll stay around Amarillo or go back to Jersey City. There are two more important things. First, would any of your neighbors notice strange cars coming and going to this house?"

"I don't think so. Some are nosy. But at this time of night, all they'll see are headlights. It's not unusual for Alan to have business associates over at night."

"Good. We'll meet up again in a month. But where?"

She said; "How about at the river. You can park at the end of Romero Road. It's public access. Walk straight down to the river; go right about 500 feet hugging the river. There's a fairly private spot after you pass through some tall grass."

"No people will be there?"

"Not often in this weather. And most people don't ever go to this spot if they do go there anyway. They could muss their hair."

"Sounds good. How about November fifteenth at 9AM.?"

"I'll be there. Before you go, are you sure he's dead? I don't want you to leave me in a zombie movie."

Bobby touched the body at the neck and wrist. "I'm sure. If he jumps up, stab him. There's no law against killing the already dead."

She made a wry smile while she considered that thought. "I'm gonna miss you, Bobby. I love you ...." She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him passionately on the mouth.

He held her around the waist. "I can't wait to be with you. If we do this right, we'll have the rest of our lives to enjoy ourselves. C'mon, I've got to get moving. You've got to call 911."

He walked away, turning around just once to take one last look at her. He said; "You are the bravest, prettiest thing I've ever seen." He then continued to walk on out.

He drove down White Horse Lane. "Son of a bitch," he muttered at the windshield. One of the neighbors just happened to be coming out of their driveway. Bobby passed in front of them and they followed him down the road. Bobby made a left turn, away from town and hoped they'd do the opposite. They did. He drove a few blocks, made a U turn and went back to the motel. He just double checked to see that he hadn't left anything in the room. When he didn't see anything, he went back to the car and lit a joint. This was the first time he could relax in days. As he headed to Amarillo, the smoke calmed him and he dreamed of a happy future for the first time in ten years.

He soon tired of listening to the engine and wanted something more melodious to fill his head. He wished he still had the "Radio Ethiopia" CD, but at least it was still in the family. He had to hear Patti Smith. She has a song for every mood. He located the "Easter" CD and started with the title track.

He amused himself when he thought that Easter was indeed coming for Kelly and him, but there was no more hope for Alan. From what Kelly had told him it sounded as if Alan had already been dead for some time, just never made it official. He laughed as he glanced at the stars in the night sky and thought; "How very, very sad."
Chapter 11

Before Kelly called 911, she reflected on what type of act would work best, as the call would probably be recorded and replayed a million times. She would soon be viewed as a rich woman, rid of an obviously fat, annoying slob and a woman still young enough to have a lot of fun. She also supposed that Alan's demise wouldn't make anyone gung ho to do their best job, as he wasn't the most popular person around, except to those depending on him for work, assuming he paid them.

She considered a matter of fact approach and decided against it. She thought; "How do people react to a dead body? Often they puke and want to get away from it. That approach was of no use here. Let me think about movies I've seen. In the ones I remember, the caller is distraught, disorganized, unable to focus, rushing their speech as if quick action could raise the dead. They yelled in the phone. I'll go with that. If they later decide it sounds phony, so be it. God, I wish I had known someone who answered emergency calls. Not really. Here goes."

She dialed the number at 8:40PM. A bored, female voice answered. "911."

"I think my husband has been murdered."

"Who am I speaking to?"

"Kelly Simburg."

"What's your address?"

"239 White Horse Lane."

"In Castillo?"

"Yes."

"What's your phone number?"

She tried the distraught act and blurted in an agitated voice; "I don't need a phone call, I need a doctor, a cop... and emergency van, or...."

The operator cut her off. "I need that number"

"505 —"

She cut Kelly off again. "I don't need that."

She said in a staccato voice; "890-3215," realizing she was talking to someone who was adept at filling in the blocks. Kelly used the distraught, agitated tone and said; "Would you please get someone here quickly. He might still be alive!"

"You said he was murdered?"

"I said that I THINK he's been murdered. It's the cops', the coroner's, or some other expert's job to figure that out, if you ever get them here! Look, my husband is tied to a chair, not moving. There is blood and half his face is missing."

"I'm sorry, you'll have to say that slower. I can't type that fast."

"Okay, what are you up to?"

"Tied to a chair."

"Not moving."

The operator droned; "Not moving ...." as she typed it.

Kelly slowly said; "There is blood..."

"How much?"

"Lots."

"Lots of blood."

"Half his face is missing."

"Half his face is missing. Is anything else missing?"

Kelly came close to laughing, as she thought how stupid this procedure was. She said; "I don't know. I haven't yet taken a complete inventory. It looks like at least one ear is gone, too."

"Let's leave that out. You say he's dead?"

Kelly screamed, "I think so. I've never seen a dead body before and can't confirm that."

"Never been to a funeral?"

"Yeah, idiot, but I never tried to verify their death." She was again amused for a second, when she recalled an Edgar Alan Poe story about someone being buried, who couldn't move, but was still alive. Funny if that would be her "Big Bugga Eyes" fate, condemned to using them to stare at the coffin lid. Rather than share her reverie she reverted to an indignant tone and charged; "Are you purposely trying to be stupid with me? My husband is an important man in this town." The merriment returned when she thought; "At least he used to be." She controlled her sense of humor and didn't say it. Instead she continued on with; "He pays a lot of taxes and needs help. Fucking Goddammit."

"You don't have to use that kind of language. I'm doing my job trying to help you." She actually sounded sincere.

"My apologies. Do you have enough information now to get someone here?"

"I need to know if he's dead."

"Why?"

"If he's dead, it's top priority for the police. If he's injured, I'll get the medic first and the police get a lower priority."

"Okay, say he's injured."

"Okay, now can you give me directions to White Horse Lane?"

"From where?"

"The Police Station."

"I don't know where that is."

Eventually acceptable directions were given and the call mercifully ended. Kelly realized that it wasn't necessary to fake being distraught. Talking to some people make it happen naturally. Surprisingly, to her, in another two minutes two cop cars, a medical van and a small fire truck showed up.

She went outside and tried to conjure up some tears. It wasn't difficult, as putting aside the humorous aspect, that phone conversation could make anyone cry.

Two cops efficiently jumped out of the first car and the one called Sheriff Mack said, "Where's the injured person?"

Kelly opened the front door and said, "Follow me." She led them to the library. The first two cops were trailed by two others, two medics and two firemen. The first cop just took a look at the body and said, "He's not injured. He's dead. What happened?"

Kelly: "I don't know. I just got here, saw this and called 911."

One of the firemen entered the room. "Where's the fire?

Kelly: "There's no fire."

Fireman: "We got a report of one."

Kelly: "Not from me."

Fireman: "Are you sure there's no fire?"

Kelly, with a raised, maddened voice, said; "Look around and see for yourself. I don't know of any fire."

Fireman, turning to leave: "That god damn dispatcher can't tell the difference between a fire and a barbeque."

Conversation with the first cop resumed.

Sheriff Mack: "What time did you find the body?"

Kelly: "I really didn't look at a clock. Maybe half an hour ago. Around 8:30." She started to shed real tears, probably out of frustration, without having to fake it.

Sheriff Mack: "I can imagine how you feel. Do you think we can go through some basic questions? Are you up to it?

Kelly, sniffled and said; "I think so."

Sheriff Mack: "So you got here around 8:30, saw the body and called 911?"

Kelly: "About right. I'm really not sure of the exact time. 8:30 is close."

Sheriff Mack: "So, when you came in the house, you walked directly to this room?"

The question surprised Kelly and now she had to improvise something that would sound good. She thought back to what her routine is whenever she enters the house. She calmly said; "I saw Alan's car outside, so I knew he was home. I hung my jacket in the hall closet, went to the bathroom and got something to drink in the kitchen, which adjoins the library. I figured I'd go find out what Alan was up to, entered the library and found him."

Sheriff Mack: "What did you get to drink?"

Kelly was reminded to stay serious and make no mistakes. She questioningly said; "Ice tea, why?"

Sheriff Mack: "I don't see the glass here."

Kelly thought, "Oh, shit. I'm very unprepared to handle this correctly. I should have done some preparatory work." She opened her eyes wide, put her hands over her head, bent forward and tried to do a fake cry. She screamed, with her eyes closed; "I don't know where I left the fucking glass! My whole life just turned to shit and you think I remember the fucking ice tea glass?" It seemed to work. At least it bought time.

Sheriff Mack: "I shouldn't have pushed this much at this point. I'm sorry. We can discuss this when you're feeling composed again. Have a seat in the kitchen and let us do our job."

Kelly silently walked to the kitchen table and took a seat with a partial view of the library.

The second cop, named Steve Elliot, followed her, standing silently near her. She hoped he wouldn't make conversation. She had to concentrate for a while. Mercifully, he was silent. She reflected; "Maybe I made a mistake with the ice tea glass, but it shouldn't matter much. I've got a right to be confused and maybe after making the 911 call, I instinctively took the glass back to the kitchen, washed it and put it back with the others. I really couldn't be sure in this state. On the other hand, I shouldn't make too many of these errors. Is my jacket hanging in the hall closet? I can't remember for sure. I'd love to check, but can't be obvious about it. I always hang my jacket in the hall closet or the bathroom. Right now I'm the prime suspect, so I have to be careful. The cops have to appear kind to the upset woman, because they know I can stop talking at any time, get a lawyer and have all further communication go through him. However, appearing co-operative is the ideal. It's a delicate fit. How's this, Kelly? I continue to be distraught tonight. They're probably not going to push for anything more now. They have other things to do for a while. There really isn't much that I know of to tell them anyway. If they ask specific, unexpected questions, I either cannot remember or I'll be vague. They'll probably drop back in tomorrow. In the meantime, I'd like to check on that jacket."

Kelly: "I have to go to the bathroom."

Steve Elliot: "Sure, I'll wait outside the door."

Kelly was thrilled to see the jacket was not in the bathroom. She did her business, washed her hands and came out feeling somewhat relieved. She walked back to the kitchen followed by wordless Elliot. She sat back down in the same chair. She could see some cops touching things with gloved hands, taking fingerprints and generally looking around. Others were apparently in other rooms. The medics were standing around looking bored. One new person, presumably the coroner, was intently examining the body.

Sheriff Mack: "Can you get a time?

Coroner: "This is very fresh, probably between 8:00 and 8:30."

Sheriff Mack thought, "Right around the time she came home." He said; "Can you get more precise when you get to the morgue?"

Coroner: "Maybe. I'll do my best."

Sheriff Mack, to the medics: "Okay, get this over to the morgue without messing it up too much."

First Medic: "Looks about as messed up as you can get already."

Sheriff Mack: "Funny. You know what I mean."

Business went on. Pictures were taken. The medics moved the body. Someone was filling in the body's location with some kind of black tape.

Sheriff Mack: "Did you get the bullet?"

Third Cop: "Yeah. Did you see the two holes in the ceiling?"

Sheriff Mack: "Yeah. Check it yet?"

Third Cop: "Just about to."

The third cop came back with a ladder and retrieved the two bullets from the ceiling.

Third Cop: "Must have been a terrible shot."

Sheriff Mack: "Maybe a warning. Maybe scared him with shots to handcuff him. Maybe the murderer tried to convince him to give him some information. Maybe something I can't think of. We've got a lot of work left."

People went about their business for about another half hour. Some started to leave. Sheriff Mack entered the kitchen and said; "Do you think you'd be up to an interview tomorrow?"

Kelly winced and said; "Probably."

"Okay. Let's make a tentative appointment for 3PM tomorrow. Here's my card. Call me if you can't make it. What are you going to do tonight?"

"Try to sleep."

"No, I mean, where will you be staying tonight?"

"Here?"

"No, you can't. This property is now an official crime scene. Only authorized personnel can come in and out. I can't allow you to stay here. You might disturb something that could have been good evidence. Do you have some other place to stay?"

"Yes. Can I use my car?"

"Sure."
Chapter 12

Kelly was disappointed, but didn't want to show it. She wanted to look around the house for anything that looked unusual. She wished that Bobby had warned her about this procedure. She then thought that she should have surmised it herself. She could stay at the motel alone or barge in on one of her friends. She thought the best thing to do was to stay at the motel alone and think this whole thing through again. But she decided she wanted company. She drove to his house, circling around a bit, to see if she could detect anyone following. She didn't see anything, but considered that they were possibly good at it. She drove up to the casita. It was four rooms, one bath and looked like no maintenance had been performed in ten years. It was on a couple of acres, mostly covered with scraggly, uncut grass and weeds that had begun to turn brown. Between twenty and thirty large trees were randomly placed.

She parked the car and knocked at the door. It opened and she saw the graying, long haired man for the first time in a year. He was about 42 now, still thin, but with health problems.

He smiled at her and said; "Kelly, you never did have any manners. What brings you here now?"

"George, are you alone?"

"Just about all the time now," laughing a bit. "Seriously, it's great to see you. Come on in."

"George, I've got to tell you right now that I might have just brought you into a murder investigation. I'm the primary suspect, so the cops might be following me."

"What are friends for? Some people just never change. What did you get into this time?"

"Well, let me go in and sit down. I'll tell you all about it."

The house was a typical 80 year old casita: adobe walls painted in pastels, brick floors, Spanish tiling in the kitchen and bath and exposed beams which showed evidence of old roof leaks. George's improvements were a lot of Native American style throw rugs, utilitarian furniture of all sorts, probably purchased at Goodwill and original paintings by some people no one ever heard of. The most prominent thing was a stereo system sitting in a bookcase and four large speakers in each corner of the main room. It suited him.

She sat on the couch. "Somebody shot and killed Alan."

Just then, his Dalmatian, named Daisy, came bounding over. She was now about ten years old and didn't do much bounding anymore. Daisy elevated to the couch, walked over to Kelly and started licking her face. Kelly smiled. "Daisy, it's been a while, you still remember me?" Daisy continued licking. Kelly gave her a kiss on the mouth and a big cuddle. She said; "Some things never change."

George said, "Somebody shot and killed Alan? Did you come here to celebrate?"

Kelly laughed, but merely said; "No, I just need a place to stay for a while. He was shot right in the house, so now that's a crime scene and the cops tell me I can't stay there."

"When did this happen?"

"Tonight."

"Did you see it?"

Kelly didn't anticipate that question and was mildly irked. She shot back; "No. When did you become a cop? I just had to go through this conversation with them. I was driving around, came home and found his body, end of conversation."

George was conciliatory and offered; "Sorry. Shit, Kelly, how come everything weird happens to you?"

"I don't know. Can I stay here until they let me go back home?"

With a grin and a certain inflection, he said; "You know I don't mind that at all."

"Forget that. I'll sleep on the couch. No offense intended."

Daisy jumped off the couch and her left front paw buckled.

Kelly said; "Is she all right?"

"I had her to the vet two weeks ago. She's torn a muscle pretty badly. He said that she needs surgery that will cost seven or eight hundred dollars and I just don't have it. Kelly, could you? She's in pain."

"Just like old times."

He smiled. "As you said, some things never change."

She returned the smile and said; "Sure. If they don't put me in jail I'll be pretty well off." She remembered the days right after college when she, George, Arlene, Mikey and Lucy decided to move their "commune" to Castillo. Many others stayed there temporarily, too, but we five were the core. Her biggest memory was of smoking a lot of grass, doing some acid, listening to loud rock music and begging her father for money whenever the "commune" needed it. She was very fond of this time. Peace, love, a new, better way of living and a feeling in her heart that everything would soon be right in the whole world. She expected it to go on forever.

"Thanks, Kelly, you really are an angel."

Considering his stated financial situation, she queried, "Have you been selling any of your songs?"

"It's been tough lately. You know I sold a few in the past, but nobody ever had a hit with any of them. I think the artists and producers now have me on the pariah list. Nowadays, everyone's interested in rap. I don't write that and I think the rappers virtually make it up on the spot."

"So, how do you make a living?"

George extended his arm and let the wrist go limp. He clucked his tongue and said; "Interior decorating and design."

They both laughed out loud.

He continued; "People here think I'm some kind of weirdo artist. So some people with money to spend want a unique kitchen. I spend days staring at their kitchens in different lights and talk artsy. When I sense that they're getting tired of the act, I go to work and provide them with a unique kitchen. It's easy. I get the materials cheaply from a pal of mine. He makes stuff out of old wood, paints it and then leaves it outside to add cachet. I get paid well when I do work, but that's not that often. Oh, the hell with me, Kelly, what are you going to do now?"

"I'm still in shock, so I'll be thinking that through for I don't know how long. You know that both my parents are dead. I have no brothers or sisters and my only real friends are you guys. I'll have enough money. I can't imagine ever moving away from the old crowd and I like it here in Castillo."

He put his hand on her forearm, smiled and said; "You might need a special friend, just like me."

Kelly brushed his hand away and replied; "Oh, George, just cut it. It was great while it lasted, but that was over years ago. Don't bring that up again, or I'll go to Arlene's."

"You can't blame me for trying. You know you were always the special one to me. Hey, you're beautiful, rich and the most interesting person I ever talked to."

Kelly said; "And I really do appreciate that. I'd feel terribly old if you didn't flirt with me and I'll always have great memories. But, seriously, just cut it."

"I promise."

"My biggest problem right now is surviving this murder investigation. The wife is always the first suspect and the cops are going to try to catch me in contradictions. I made one already. I don't want another."

"What did you say?"

"Oh, it's just bullshit. Some people seem to think that it's your duty to know the precise time you leave home and come back, the exact balance in your checking account, where you hang your jacket, the price of eggs, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. My mind gravitates to more interesting things."

George made eyes at her and they both laughed. He said; "I guess these are the biggest deals in their lives."

"If you can call it a life."

"Is ours a life?"

"I don't know, but it's at least not a death. Hey, George, put some head music on and let's sit here quietly. I want to space out."

"Want a joint?"

"Yeah, some things never change."

George put on King Crimson. They shared a joint and in about two hours, they were both asleep, sitting up on the couch.
Chapter 13

Bobby got to Amarillo in the middle of the night, checked into a motel, got some food and slept. When he woke up at 6AM, he thought about his itinerary for the day. He really didn't have much left to do. He would have to call Jason and Vinny, but after that, he was open until his next meeting with Kelly in a month. He got some breakfast and ate it in the car. He then went to make his calls, the most pleasant one first. Ring, ring...

"Yeah."

"Jason, its Tony."

"Don't give me another story."

"You'll be happy. You got a corpse."

"Hallelujah. What happened?"

"Things changed again and that's the way it wound up."

"That's what I like to hear. But, you know, I put myself out for you and you still owe me one."

"I know, I know. But I've got to tell you that I really don't want any more work for a while. Things are changing like crazy."

"Who's the girl?"

"Jason, you know you keep me sane."

"Have a good time. You haven't had a vacation in a while." He hung up.

Bobby made his second call. Ring, ring, ring, ring.

"Can't I ever play my card game in peace? This better be good."

"Hey, Vinny."

"Yeah, Tony?"

"Yeah. Listen, pal, I won't be needing that money anymore."

"I got it ready for you. You're screwing me up. Do you know what you're doing?"

"I'm really not sure."

"Look, man, getting the money costs me. I can fix it, but you owe me a favor."

"Okay, okay, I understand. I'm sorry, my life's getting a little crazy."

"Who's the girl?"

"You got any ideas how I can make this right?"

"Probably. Call me back in two hours." He hung up.

Bobby thought; "I've got a couple of hours to kill. What would Vinny want? I promised Kelly no more killing. As far as I know, Vinny is in the loan business. God knows what else. If I'm lucky he'll just want somebody leaned on a little. I don't owe him a gigantic favor."

Bobby got an early lunch. He hadn't been eating regularly lately and was hungry. He brought it back to the motel and ate while he listened to the heater hum. Time passed and he went back out to make that follow up call. Ring, ring....

"Acme Finance Company."

"Vinny, it's Tony. What do you have for me?"

"I've got a weird situation."

"Who's the girl?"

"Funny. I made a stupid decision about a month ago. Some kids borrowed some money. They were supposed to turn over a quick coke deal and pay me back in a week or two. I'm not a complete idiot, so I figured that I might need a second possible source of repayment. One told me his father was rich and could cover it if necessary. The kids are now in jail and the rich ones father disowned him."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Convince his father that paying back the loan is a good idea."

"Tell me more. How much money is involved?"

"Two hundred thousand dollars."

"Does the father have that much?"

"Don't know for sure. He lives in an expensive house though."

"Why are they in jail?"

Vinny laughed. "They bought some coke from somebody, probably got beat on the deal and then tried to sell it to an undercover cop."

Bobby laughed too. "Okay, give me the particulars and I'll see if I can educate the old man."

"The old man lives in Great Neck, Long Island. 32 Mockingbird Road. Name is Donald Wehrle. He may not know about the loan."

"I'm in Amarillo. It'll take me a few days to get there. Do I have to bring back the money?"

"Try your best. I know you will."

"You got it." Bobby hung up.
Chapter 14

Kelly woke up on the couch at 7:00AM. Her first thoughts were of her 3:00PM appointment with the police. George was still asleep and somehow he wound up on the floor. She looked over and saw that her movement was waking him, too. The King Crimson CD was still playing softly and she said; "Like old times, we just need a record player revolving around the end of the record, wearing out the needle."

"Yeah," he kind of whispered.

She shut off the music and they made mild conversation. George carried the bulk of the conversation, mostly about the adventures of their old compatriots. She enjoyed the slow pace, being a recent stranger to it. They ate well for the first time in a while.

At 2:15PM she left for her meeting, with a very clear head and thought she was ready for anything. She pulled into Police Headquarters parking lot and was mildly surprised to see state cars. She entered and was led to a room with a closed door. Three men in suits were already there. She opened it and stood still, thinking that she did not expect them to be ganging up on her so soon. She guessed that this would be the most important part of her show and said to herself; "Come on, Kelly. Clear and vague. Clear and vague. Contradiction? Fuck it. I don't know a damn thing I didn't say yesterday."

Sheriff Mack was sitting in the command position, alone, behind his desk. The other two men sat on the other side of it and had already taken the two outside seats, leaving Kelly the one in the middle. He cordially said; "Come on in. You're early, but that's fine with us. Let me introduce Detectives Daugherty and Melchioni. They're state cops."

They all nodded "Hellos" and shook hands silently. She took the only available seat and felt surrounded, but prepared for the Indian attack.

Sheriff Mack: "Hope you're doing well. We know this is a difficult time."

Kelly: "I'm better today. Best thing I can do is take care of business. It occupies my mind anyway."

Sheriff Mack, efficiently offered; "Good. Glad to hear that. Let's get started. You said you got home at 8:30PM last night...."

Kelly, slightly exasperated at having to go through the repetitious chatter, flatly said; "I said about 8:30. I didn't look at a clock."

Sheriff Mack: "I stand corrected. Where were you?"

Kelly: "I was driving around for about two hours and spent some time walking around by the river."

Sheriff Mack: "Was that two hours of driving?"

Kelly: "No, a total of about two hours, including the river walk."

Sheriff Mack: "How much of the two hours was walking time?"

Kelly: "Probably somewhere between half an hour and an hour."

Sheriff Mack: "How do you know it was a total of two hours?"

Kelly: "I don't. I said about two hours."

Sheriff Mack: "How do you know it was about two hours?"

Kelly: "It felt like it. I do it often and have some sense of time, though I've been wrong on occasion."

Sheriff Mack: "Don't you wear a watch?"

Kelly extended both her arms to show no adornments; "No, see for yourself."

Sheriff Mack: "Was Alan home when you left."

Kelly: "No."

Sheriff Mack: "Did you see anyone during the two hour trip."

Kelly: "Some people were in front of their houses when I passed by. I don't know them and vice versa. I didn't see anyone at the river."

Sheriff Mack: "Wasn't it pretty cold at the river at that time?"

Kelly: "I guess so, but I'm used to it and dress for it. I've been there when the temperature was zero and there was a breeze. It was much more comfortable than that. Sometimes, it's the only way to get any privacy in Castillo."

Sheriff Mack raised his eyebrows and continued; "You drive a new light blue Mercedes. That's a pretty unusual car here. Wouldn't someone have noticed it?"

Kelly: "I have no idea. Someone always notices something in friendly Castillo, but I didn't stop to say 'Hello' to anyone."

Det. Melchioni interjected; "Perhaps we can verify this. Which houses had people outside?"

Kelly: "I don't remember. A few people I probably have never seen before were near their houses. That's always the case."

Det. Melchioni: "Were any of the houses near the road?"

Kelly: "No, I only glimpsed them in the distance."

Det. Melchioni: "Which route did you take?"

Kelly: "As usual, I took the main road out of town, meandered around the flat wasteland until I got bored. Then, I came back to town, again using the main road, turned off on Romero, parked at the end and walked for a while. I then drove back home."

Det. Melchioni: "It would be nice if we could get at least one witness."

Kelly: "For me too. Why don't you give it a try?"

Det. Melchioni, sounding a bit threatening, said; "We intend to."

Det. Daugherty: "We spoke to some of your neighbors and one reported seeing a car exiting White Horse Lane around 8:30. Did you see it or know anything about it?"

Kelly: "No. Maybe it was the murderer."

Det. Daugherty: "Maybe."

Det. Melchioni: "Do you usually drive around at that time of night?"

Kelly: "Generally no. A bit lately. I used to go earlier, while I still have some light."

Det. Melchioni: "Why lately?"

Kelly: "I don't know. I felt like it, I guess. I've been working around the motel much more recently. It's probably fouled up my schedule a bit. Maybe I just need to unwind sometimes."

Sheriff Mack: "Were you aware of any financial problems your husband was having?"

Kelly: "No, I don't pay specific attention. He didn't consider it any of my business, anyway and I didn't care. But when Alan asked me to help out at the motel, I thought something might be wrong."

Sheriff Mack: "You thought right. We found out that he's been losing money for at least three years, one year substantially and that he has borrowed about four million dollars from the mob and can't pay it back. That's where Detectives Daugherty and Melchioni come in."

Kelly thought; "That's a relief. I must be doing all right so far. He actually volunteered something."

Det. Daugherty: Detective Melchioni and I work for the Organized Crime Division at state. Quite frankly, this looks like a professional hit. It has all the characteristics, excepting a few details."

Kelly: "Like?"

Det. Daugherty: "Mob hits are usually quick in and out. They don't draw any attention. The pieces of the puzzle I'd like to find answers to are why were bullets in the ceiling and why was he tied up and handcuffed."

Kelly, feigned interest, tried to flatter and skirt any direct commentary. She said; "Sounds like a hard job."

Det. Daugherty: "It is. I'm assuming the killer wanted to talk to Alan about something. He may have brought him there from somewhere else. He may have fired shots into the ceiling to scare him into saying or doing something. This isn't usual, but it happens."

Kelly: "I want the murderer caught as much as you do and I can't help but ask why does that matter?"

Det. Melchioni deadpanned; "It puts it in our jurisdiction."

Det. Daugherty: "Frankly, these guys are hard to catch."

Kelly: "Well, good luck."

Kelly was pleased when the three men rose, now certain that she had survived Round One. She followed their lead and got on her feet.

Sheriff Mack: "Well, thanks for coming, really. If we need you again, where can I contact you?"

Kelly: "When can I move back into my house?"

Sheriff Mack: "Now. We don't want to inconvenience you any more than we have to."

Kelly: "Oh, great, then you can reach me at that number. Feel free. I'd like to give you guys all the help I can." She kept a straight face. She nodded goodbye and turned, intending to leave, when another question was directed at her.

Det. Melchioni: "Do you know that you were beneficiary of a five million dollar life insurance policy?"

Kelly thought; "That Melchioni is going to be the hardest ass, hoping that I say something stupid. It wasn't a very good ploy, because he can find out that sort of information, without help from me. He merely wants to see my reaction." Consequently, she made none and matter-of-factly, unemotionally said; "Yes."

She continued out, closing the door behind her. She thought she had done well as she drove home.

Det. Daugherty: "Great Irish girl."

Det. Melchioni: "Simburg?"

Det. Daugherty: "Maiden name — Patrick. All the best girls are Irish."

They all laughed.

Det. Melchioni: "What kind of girls do you know about, anyway?"

Det. Daugherty: "Only Irish, why settle?"

They all laughed again.

Det. Melchioni: "I just wanted to see if she'd overreact to the insurance policy comment. I think this is probably a mob hit, too, especially with the debt."

Sheriff Mack: "You guys are the experts at that. I'll continue some investigation here, but frankly, I don't know what's left to do. I'll call you if I run into anything odd."

They all shook hands and the two state men turned and left. Mack sat back down and stared into space.

As they were driving back in the state police car, Melchioni said; "I still wonder what the killer wanted to know."

Daugherty leaned toward him and in a silly voice said; "Where's the money? What else?"

Melchioni didn't show any appreciation for the commentary and replied in a heard-it-before tone; "Yeah, possibly. But before the hit, the debtor usually has already gotten a few visits from the collection men."

Daugherty threw the ball back in his partner's court and said; "If it's something else, then what?"

Melchioni shrugged and said; "I don't know. I just like to tie up all the loose ends, if possible, before I hand it over."

Daugherty again tried a humorous remark and said; "When have we ever done that?

This time he got a better reception and they both laughed.

Daugherty said; "You just have some kind of problem with Irish girls."

Melchioni shook his head slowly and said; "There's something about that one I just don't like."
Chapter 15

Bobby got back home to his apartment in Jersey City. He had sold off the farmhouse property shortly after Monica's death. Besides not wanting to be there with the memories any more, it was more business efficient to be in Jersey City. With a good number of people around, no one in particular gets noticed and with the presence of mobsters and would be mobsters, people learn to mind their own business.

It was already dark, so he just climbed into bed and planned to set out for Great Neck in the morning. Great Neck had a lot of very well to do people as it was a short trip into Manhattan, yet fairly private and on the water. He remembered that Blue Oyster Cult grew up there and years ago, he knew a freaky girl who lived there with her parents. So, based on his limited knowledge, he thought that a suitable approach to Mr. Wehrle might be to attempt to appeal to his powers of reason. Heavy handed stuff was out.

He must have fallen asleep as the next thing he knew, he was sitting on the gray wooden floor of the porch at his old country house. It was dark, but he could see Kelly walking with two dogs in the woods about a mile away. His instincts said that they knew each other, but he wasn't sure. He didn't think that Kelly wanted to see him, as she looked in every direction except his. More importantly, his gut instinct said that this girl wanted to be left alone. He had some firecrackers, lit them and wanted to throw them over her head. Miraculously, he was successful in throwing them over a mile and they exploded fifty feet over her head, annoying the hell out of her. He repeated this a number of times. She angrily walked toward his house and when seeing him still sitting in the darkness said; "Are you throwing firecrackers." He still wasn't sure if she thought that she knew him and wanted her to like him, but he sarcastically replied; "No one can throw them that far." She stared at him for a few seconds, still obviously annoyed. Then, she seemed to soften her expression, climbed the two steps up to the porch and proceeded to turn on the switches to five porch lights, he previously didn't know existed.

He woke up, wondering what this could possibly mean. He got some ideas about firecrackers and lights being turned on. The depressing thought of Kelly, possibly not waiting for him, made its ugly presence known. He lay there in the darkness and saw things from a "realistic" viewpoint. He wouldn't be seeing or talking to her for a month and a lot can happen in that much time, especially since they didn't really know each other that well yet. He decided; "To hell with the thought. I'll trust my instincts." The entire reflective process caused his hunger to become more apparent. He went into the kitchen and got some food and ice tea. After eating and drinking, still a bit puzzled, he went back to bed and dreamlessly slept.

When the morning came, he stopped at the post office and checked his box. The promised dossier was there. He drove out to Great Neck. He tried not to think about anything other than his new assignment. After his last experience, he didn't want any diversions. He thought; "Concentration is the name of every game." He checked into another motel. It seemed as if he had spent the bulk of his recalled life in them and he had lost the ability to differentiate between the monotonous single story structures, with one exception. The first thing he did was to get an early lunch and bring it back to the motel, where he opened the dossier.

Donald Wehrle (pronounced whirly): 32 Mockingbird Road, Great Neck, Long Island, New York. Age 46. Married to Barbara, age 42. Occupation: Vice President at Chase Manhattan Bank. Two children, both boys, aged 18 and 20. The 20 year old was away at college and had been in minor trouble regularly. He owes $200,000 and has no means to pay. He will likely soon be incarcerated for trying to sell coke to an undercover cop. Bobby looked through the many photos provided.

When he finished eating, he took a drive to view the house. It was large, probably about 4500 square feet, modern style, a bit severe to his taste. It was in a neighborhood of similarly sized houses, done in different styles, all very well-tended. They appeared to be situated on at least half an acre each, with a fair number of mature trees and water views. The general overview was that the area looked expensive and sophisticated. There were a few stylish foreign cars parked in driveways.

Bobby just drove around the area and those adjacent to it to get a general feel and to see how easily he could get to a major road, in case he had to make a hurried exit, for some reason. Since Long Island was appropriately named, being long and narrow, virtually everything is reasonably close to the main highway, which runs the center. As expected, access to the Long Island Expressway was no problem. He decided to make his approach late Saturday afternoon. Hopefully Donald would be relaxed and more receptive to some things he might not want to hear after a busy work day.

Bobby entered the driveway at 3PM on a sunny, warm, beautiful fall day and found Mr. Wehrle in the driveway, either getting into or out of his newer green Volvo. He was probably around six feet tall, 230 pounds, medium length light brown hair and beardless. Bobby parked his car behind Mr. Wehrle's and got out.

Mr. Wehrle stood straight up, probably attempting to advertise his size and succeeded in showing how well he ate. Bobby slowly exited his cream Toyota, put both hands behind his back and grimaced, as he played as if he needed to go through some ritual to straighten himself out. He smiled at Wehrle and said; "What a drag it is, getting old."

His prey raised his eyebrows, ignored the opening line and offered, "May I help you?"

Bobby saw that there was no need to feign friendliness and in a businesslike tone said; "Excuse me, my name is Tony Lotito and I have something important to discuss with you about your son."

Wehrle sarcastically replied; "I guess my secretary forgot to jot down the appointment." He then efficiently said, as if he were trying to end his intrusion as soon as possible; "What do you want to discuss?"

"I'm sure you know about the broken cocaine deal. I'm not sure if you know that he borrowed the money to finance the deal from some very bad people."

Wehrle's voice softened, perhaps because he heard something new and said; "No, I didn't know, but the possibility crossed my mind. That kid has been in more trouble than I ever imagined possible. It started his senior year in high school. I really have no control of him at all."

"The problems are starting to close in on the very serious category now. It looks like this will eventually lead to some prison time."

"The lawyer advised the same."

"What the lawyer may not have advised you is that under the circumstances, your son is likely to get hurt when he gets to prison."

"No, he didn't mention it. What can I do about that?"

"The question really is; what can we do about it. If the bad guys were made whole, they could see to it that he wouldn't be hurt."

"How can they do that?"

"Easily. All they have to do is put out the word and no one will bother your son. His stay will be as pleasant as possible."

"Sometimes you say 'we' and sometimes you say 'they'. Whose side are you on?"

"I've never really thought about it. My guess is that I am on my own side."

"Contractor."

"Contractor."

"I appreciate your honesty. Let me think out loud for a second. I'm at wits end with him. My approach so far has been to not pay bail, so that he can experience some type of real punishment for a change. But I didn't want it to be that severe. How severe would it likely be?"

"In addition to general harassment and occasional beatings, he'd likely be called something like 'girly Wehrle' after he's been there a while. When he gets out, the bad guys will still want their $200,000 plus interest. I don't think there are many safe ways for him to come up with it."

"I can confirm with my monster if he owes the money. If necessary I could come up with the $200,000, though not easily. I'm not as rich as most of my neighbors. Tell me, though, how can I know that you are who you say you are and that you, we or they can protect my son?"

"I don't really think I can prove my credentials. The people I work for don't print business cards, publish directories or sign notes. I see your point, though. I could be someone who knows the situation. Probably a few do. My goal could be to get $200,000 and go home. Can you suggest some manner of proof?"

Donald made a small smile. "I can't think of any. Let me think about this a while. Can you come back at this time tomorrow?"

"I'll be here." Tony extended his hand.

Donald hesitated at first, but shook it.

Tony proceeded to his car and left. He drove to the nearest phone and called Vinny.

"Yeah."

"Vinny, it's Tony. Too early to have the card game going?

"Ah, these fucking assholes want to sit around and bitch about the rules today. What 'cha got for me?"

"I've got to check something with you. How easy is it for you to protect the kid when he's in prison?"

"Real easy. But why?"

"I figured you would like to get your $200,000 back quickly and I think I can make a trade that costs you nothing. Besides, I don't owe you a gigantic favor. I got on the job quickly and I thought this may be an easy way out for everyone."

"You know, Tony, you're not the one who makes the rules, right?"

"I know. I'm just a poor lawyer, arguing my case in front of the judge. I'm asking him to be practical and forget the letter of the law. Put in plain English, or whatever the hell you speak, 'It works'. What do you say, oh great one?"

Vinny laughed, though he wasn't sure if he was being ridiculed or deferred to. He suspected the former, but, more importantly, he wanted his money. He laughed when he said; "Fuck you, Tony. I'll take the deal."

Vinny hung up and Bobby drove back to the motel, again bought some food and sat against the headboard absently watching television. He put on some game show and watched people jumping up and down and screaming excitedly as they won $10,000. It was a perfect time for some weed. The day proved to be an amusing, pleasant one. He had another joint after dark and smirked at the "happy family" sitcoms until he dozed off, content with the world.
Chapter 16

When Kelly got back to the house she sat on the couch and relaxed a while, proud that she had done her job perfectly. After a few minutes she took a quick look around to see what the cops had fiddled with. Some things that were disturbed she wished weren't investigated, but that didn't bother her much, when she considered the circumstances. She went to the library, mostly wanting to confirm that the hideous body was gone. She slowly peered into the room from her kitchen position, taking in more and more of the quiet area. She giggled, feeling like a schoolgirl, doing something naughty. Exhilaration. She entered the room and found it corpseless. She was feeling so fantastically, she wanted somebody to know that. She wished Bobby was here right now. She wondered what he was doing right now. She then thought of George! She drove back to his house.

She yelled; "Hey, George!" as she let herself in.

He was sitting on his couch, perusing a huge book titled "Bloodletters and Bad Men." He closed it, shook his head and said; "Whew, you should see some of the nuts in this. Really weirds me out."

Kelly too quickly responded; "My favorite was the lady who killed seven or eight husbands in really gory ways." She realized that it would be better for her if she calmed down just a tad. She added; "Very bad attempt at black humor. Let's start over."

George smiled and said; "I am so glad you came back."

"Me, too. I finished with the cops quickly and I feel great. Let's do something today."

"I'm with that."

"Okay. You go get dressed. We'll go to the Indian Museum."

They took his fifteen year old unwashed brown Toyota and during the ride, they made minimal conversation. He had the radio on and they were listening to music from twenty years ago; Hendrix, Joplin, Strawberry Alarm Clock, Cream, Steppenwolf, Blue Cheer, Grateful Dead, Airplane, Sly...... Today was a day for relics. He parked in the museum lot.

The entered and each set off on their own ways, looking at things of interest to them. Sometimes, they'd get to the same spot and discuss the merits or lack thereof of what they had just seen. He liked the living situations best and she the paintings. They spent about one and a half hours and then went to the gift shop.

George said, "You don't always have to buy something."

"You know, I just want something for the memory of a nice day and today I want to buy you something."

"They charge more for Indian stuff here. You can get it cheaper at the reservations."

"We're not on a reservation, we're here. So what's your favorite thing in the store?"

"Let me look around for a while?"

"Sure, I also have to."

She walked around the entirety of the small store, noting the contrast between the uncompromising glass and chrome modernity of the facility itself and the goods for sale, which were generally also of recent origin, but were made to imitate items from forty or more years prior. She focused on the books.

George made no note of the contrast detected by Kelly and as far as he was concerned, it looked like many other stores in the area, only with higher price tags. He focused on the silver jewelry.

The female Native American clerk was wearing a flimsy, sophisticated and expensive looking pale green dress, was impeccably made up, though her dark blue headband seemed at odds with the rest of the picture. She paid the two little attention, perhaps assuming, given the couple's scruffy appearance that they wouldn't buy much, if anything.

Kelly said to George; "Have you seen everything yet?"

"I don't know if I've seen everything, but I've seen what they have here."

Kelly smiled and said; "Cute. What does your little heart desire?"

"I want what you already told me I can't have, so...."

Kelly cut him off and lifted her right arm, her fingers clenched in a fist; "George, so help me, I'm going to....."

George cut her off, put his hands up to defend himself and said; "Peace and love, sister. Peace and love, sister." They were both laughing at each other at this point and he continued; "I like something over here." He led her to the jewelry counter.

Kelly followed him and when he didn't indicate anything in particular, she got mildly annoyed and said; "How many times do I have to ask?"

"Well, if you insist. My favorite thing by far is a silver bracelet. They're not cheap."

"Just get it. Money always finds me."

She added a book of Indian legends to the purchase, paid for the items and they left.

Driving back she was again quiet, however he was so excited, he kept looking at his bracelet and, worse, he was compelled to explain what the symbols on it meant, sometimes incorrectly. She just smiled at him when he got one wrong.

They parted in the driveway and Kelly went to her car. George said, "Thanks, Kelly, really. Some things never change. And I hope they never do."

Kelly said, "Just enjoy it. Bye."

"How can I thank you? Really."

"Just stay my friend. And don't worry about it. My dearly departed made me beneficiary on a sizable life insurance policy." She smiled at wide-eyed George, drove back home and intended to relax reading "American Indian Myths and Legends."
Chapter 17

Bobby woke up to a day of nothing, until 2:00PM. Though he spent the day with the television on, he didn't pay much attention to it. It was just there to make some noise and provide visual escape from the monotonous off-white walls, popcorn ceiling and assemble-yourself-discount store furnishings. The brain dead machine kept him company in a more relaxing fashion than most people, as it never insisted on him making the appropriate reply. He enjoyed seeing the happy, excited people win game show prizes and money, though he really didn't know what the objects of the games were, other than providing "excitement." He briefly thought about Kelly, Monica and how he got to where he was today. The answer was all too simple to occupy much time. He loved both of them. He thought about his Wehrle job and concluded that it seemed to be going well. He also knew that there was always a chance that Wehrle might have involved the local cops. If he was acting rationally, it was not in his best interest to do so, but sometimes people freak out. Not a major problem. If cops show up, Bobby would say he saw the guy in the driveway and stopped to ask directions and stick with it.

At 2:00PM. He pulled into Donald's driveway and again saw him near his Volvo. Bobby slowly got out of his.

Wehrle seemed cordial and offered; "Good afternoon, Tony."

"Good afternoon, Donald."

"I've been thinking a lot about your proposition since you left yesterday. The more I think about it, the more I like it."

Bobby said; "You're going to have to excuse me for a minute. I'm going to have to frisk you. I wouldn't want to find any wires. Would you mind?"

Instead of answering directly Wehrle said; "Why didn't you do this yesterday?"

Bobby said; "I took a chance yesterday, as it was a surprise visit. I wanted you to hear my proposal and not put any obstacles in the way." He extended his hands, palms up and said; "Okay?"

Wehrle put both hands in the air and grudgingly said; "Okay."

Bobby patted him down, found nothing and said; "Thanks. I really appreciate that." He paused, briefly, then continued; "I'm very glad that you like the deal. It seems the only good way."

"I love that kid and he is driving me absolutely crazy. I hope this turns out to be a lesson for him, but I'd rather not have him experience a terrible lesson."

"I couldn't agree more."

"Do you have kids?"

The question took Bobby by surprise. He fumbled around a bit, saying; "No, never did that. But, I'm still working on it. A possibility remains." He decided not to elaborate on that. It could go on forever.

Donald listened and was a bit confused at Bobby's answer. He decided not to appear prying and made no follow up question. Instead he said; "Ah, I'll get off that and get down to business. I can't think of any way you could verify who you are. You're certainly not like any 'collection' man I've seen on television. Bottom line, I have the $200,000 in my car. Isn't there any way you can think of verifying your existence?" He smiled.

"I wish I could set your mind at ease. But I really can't."

Once more. If my son winds up in prison, he'll be protected?"

"My employers tell me they will make sure that he's all right, if they get their money back. I've been working for them for about ten years now and they've always kept their word."

"All right, take the money and get out of here." He transferred a suitcase from his car to Bobby's and walked back toward his house.

Bobby felt badly for Mr. Wehrle, but couldn't articulate why. He called out; "I'm sorry this kind of shit has to happen."

Wehrle turned his head back, shook it slightly, grimaced and said; "You and me both." He continued up the driveway. Bobby watched him, wishing there were something he could say that might be of some help. He had an odd thought; "This kind of work is more difficult than an execution. You have to bear witness to the human tragedy. When I kill someone it's not personal. Someone's going to do it, even if I don't. I never know what the victim's mistake was; never get to know much about them, or how it affects their loved ones, up until this last mess of a job, anyway. Death ends the pain. Mr. Wehrle's will most likely continue for some time and he didn't do anything wrong. In fact, he seems like a pretty good guy. All of a sudden I feel more weird than usual and I can't even define what is causing it.........Best thing is to try and forget the whole god damned thing........Hope I can."

Bobby drove back to his motel. He had planned to drive out to Vinny's in Vegas to make the drop tomorrow. He didn't like holding onto cash very long, as too many accidents can happen. Wehrle could have innocently told a friend about the deal and maybe that friend is not so innocent and thinks he can take the money. He didn't have any desire to get in the middle of that kind of shit. He looked at the plastic, wood grained, digital clock and saw that it was not yet 3PM. He looked forward to the trip, as he'd be in Kelly's neck of the woods again. He decided that, rather than wait for tomorrow, it was best to leave right now.

It was a three day drive to Vegas. He drove at night, didn't smoke any pot and listened to jazz stations. The lack of words comforted him in his current state of mind. He slept the days in various motels, with the television on. With the sound set to zero, it was, in effect, the nightlight he had as a little boy. Arriving in Las Vegas at 8AM, on a windy, overcast, winter morning, he went directly to Vinny's, as he wanted to get rid of the money as soon as possible. Vinny's was in an old part of town; a one story brick building probably built in the 1940s. Bobby opened the heavy front door.

A huge, olive skinned guy in an expensive, dark suit was standing just inside the door. "Hello, friend," he nodded, raising his arms to show that he was going to frisk Bobby. "You know the routine."

Bobby said, "Sure."

The big guy relieved Bobby of his gun and reached for the suitcase.

"Hey, hey," said Bobby in an agitated voice. "I'm only giving this to Vinny himself."

"All right, just wait here with me." He told an old man, who was sitting alone at a table in the front room playing solitaire, to go get Vinny. Bobby's eyes scanned the room. The walls were covered with yellowish light green paint, peeling in many areas. The most prominent feature was a painted ceramic image of Jesus on the cross. It was probably a good three feet long. One could clearly see the bright red blood dripping from the forehead of the one wearing the crown of thorns. The only other items gracing the wall were five or six framed, enlarged photographs of various women, probably associates of the resident crew. They were all naked, excepting high heels, in various provocative positions, some smiling and some looking either bored or malevolent. As soon as Bobby started to focus on one of them, a meaty babe, probably around 35, with loads of curly black hair in the right place, the back door opened and Vinny entered the front room. Bobby had never seen him previously and was surprised to see that this powerful figure was extremely short, probably no more than five foot four. He was about forty, with receding black hair combed straight back and dressed casually, in a tan polo shirt and baggy black pants. He approached cautiously and, in a wary tone said; "What do you have for me, pal?"

"I'm Tony. I feel like I should genuflect, but I'm going to control myself."

Vinny had never seen him before, either and raised his now hearty voice to say; "Tony, you son of a bitch. Why the hell didn't you call first? When I hear about a stranger with a suitcase I get agita."

Bobby looked at the floor and shook his head from side to side and said; "Sorry, man. Sincerely. I've been fucking up everything lately."

Vinny said; "It's that girl. I'm tellin' ya."

Bobby shook his head again, this time indicating agreement. He then pointed at the wall pictures and said; "You don't look like you're doing too bad yourself."

In a low, pleased voice Vinny said; "Yeah, well, you know." He raised it to a cheery level and continued; "Hey, good to see you... meet you... whatever." He laughed and directed his next loud remarks at his other friends; "This guy is an old friend, you know what I mean?"

They nodded at Bobby.

Vinny reached for the suitcase and said; "Let me take that from you and put it in a safe place."

He handed it to one of his friends and nodded at him. His friend nodded back. Bobby thought he was in the land of nod. Vinny's friend turned and took it into the back room. He was probably going to count it. Bobby just then realized that he had never counted it himself. He hoped that Mr. Wehrle wasn't trying to get silly and was again reminded of the problems associated with carrying cash.

Bobby jokingly said; "You gotta admit that this was a pretty good, quick job. Maybe next time I work I'll do collections instead of hits. It's easier and there's no death penalty."

"You don't want it, Tony, it doesn't pay as good."

Someone opened the back door. Vinny looked in that direction. "Okay" came the voice. Bobby-Tony was now relieved that he had lucked out and now the job was over.

Tony said, "And I don't really like carrying around a lot of money. All kinds of bad things can happen. If I get stopped by the cops, I'll be better off with a gun than money."

"I'm gonna miss your bullshit. Give me a call when you feel like working again. I owe you at least one easy one." With that, he put his hand on Bobby's shoulder, leading him toward the door. "Enjoy your honeymoon." They both smiled and nodded.

Vinny instructed the big guy to return Tony's gun, which he did with a smile, then Bobby went back to his car, intending to drive to Amarillo and be as close as possible to his love.

He didn't encounter much traffic on the straight roads through "Big Sky" country. He completely relaxed, with his main work now finished and enjoyed a smoke, as he watched the late autumn scene from the heavens. Light, white tubular clouds moved slowly across, appearing as if they had been painted there with a brush that needed to be dipped back in the can. The overall effect was pleasant and clear, as the sun easily shone through. Bobby wondered if it was sending him any message in its fading, fragile group of meandering "I's", at different angles. "The Incredible Lightness of Being" came to mind.

After arriving in Amarillo, he decided that since he was this close to Castillo, he'd drive there and view the river. He felt a bit sleepy from the smoke and got bored after another hour of "I's. He engaged the CD player and listened to Patti Smith sing some of her loud, exhilarating stuff.

In Castillo, he parked his car on the dirt ditch road named "Romero". No other cars were in evidence. As he got out and walked he wondered how many times Kelly had been in the same place. He went up and down the levee to a path which led to the river. He was hidden from the parking area by the levee. The river was flowing strongly and was causing some turbulence where it was breaking up small islands in the center. But he could also tell from gullys gouged out of the current land base that it was once much higher, probably lowered over the years by irrigation ditches and the needs of relatively new houses, some with second stories visible from the river. He walked about 200 feet to a group of dead logs lying on the ground and he sat on one, dreamily looking at the river.

Both sides of the river were covered with cottonwood trees, displaying their sturdy fall foliage of light brown and bushes of varying sorts. On his side he could see the remnants of differing annual plants some might call weeds, if detected in their gardens. Many birds were in evidence, including some brightly colored ones, mixtures of purple, yellow and red. He wondered if they were tropical migrants. He picked up a pleasant aroma that seemed familiar, but something he had not sensed for some time. He tried to remember where he knew the fragrance from, but couldn't. He looked up and down the river itself. Some spots were so low that he could see the underlying rocks. He could see five islands; all near the center, which had to have been there for some time, as the vegetation on them was tall, probably indicating around twenty years. He absently looked around for about ten minutes, admiring the beauty, which seemed to be just for him. Though he wanted to stay, he decided not to push his luck. He wished he would accidentally coincide with Kelly, but also rationally understood that the possibility of the two of them being seen together now could be disastrous. Cops could still be scouring for strangers, so he walked back to his car and drove back to Amarillo, staying the night at a motel. He left for Jersey City in the morning.

During his three day drive he smoked, listened to music and watched the sky turn grayer the further east he went. By the time he was nearly home he could no longer see it. He seemed to be enveloped in a low lying, gray, drizzling cloud, which made driving difficult. He stopped at his apartment, heated up something to eat, got ice tea to drink and went to bed. For some reason; perhaps Wehrle's plight, perhaps being away from Kelly and, perhaps due to the lack of visibility caused by the ground hugging clouds, he felt unsettled. When he pulled the blankets over his head, he again felt safe and slept. He recalled many similar experiences when he was a child and thought that with the covers over his head, no one could see him, just as he couldn't see them.

He woke at 6PM in complete darkness. A foggy evening allowed no light, whatsoever, through the windows. He stayed there a few minutes and daydreamed that Kelly was next to him. If he could hold onto her and feel her body next to his, he knew everything would be fine.

He got out of bed. The room seemed cooler than usual. He put on a lamp, lit a cigarette and decided that he needed something to occupy his mind. The TV had no ability to do the job. A book would maintain the creepy silence. Music seemed likely to bring back memories he didn't want. As he still owed a small favor, to set things right he called Jason, his provider of "normality" and occupier of time.

Ring, ring, ring....

"Yeah."

"Jason, its Tony."

"What can I do for you, lover boy?"

"You told me that I still owed you one the last time we spoke. I agree, but I don't think it's a huge one."

Jason replied; "No sweat. It's nowhere near huge. So what, are you volunteering your services now?"

"Yeah."

"She break up with you already?"

Bobby drew out; "Noooo." He paused and got no reply, so he added; "It's hard to explain and none of your business, anyway."

"Believe me. I don't want to sit through the long sad story."

Bobby sternly said; "You keep this up and I'll consider us even, for having to sit through your horseshit."

"All right, all right. Don't be so sensitive. Can't you take a joke?"

"I don't know. I'm a little fucked up today. Excuse the shit out of me."

"I'm tellin' ya, Tony. Those fuckin' bitches will screw up your life. Just fuck 'em, get a blowjob, or something and leave it at that."

"Jason, if you don't cut the nosy advice shit, I'll hang up and consider us even."

"Okay, okay. Damn. I need a little job done right in Jersey City. Some asshole keeps nosing around a business owned by a friend of mine."

Bobby interrupted him to say; "Sounds like something catchy is going around."

Jason laughed for the first time in Bobby's memory and continued; "Shit, man. Anyway, my buddy has got a candy store front, doesn't want to sell any candy and runs a gambling operation out of the place; sports, numbers, card games, whatever. This fuckin' jackass keeps hanging around the place; starts asking questions and worst of all, the stupid motherfucker tells my friend he's morally opposed to gambling."

"What kind of shithead is this? Retarded or what?"

"I don't think so. Sounds like an old fart with nothing to do."

"Maybe he needs a blowjob?"

"Maybe, but that's not my department. Can you just give him a strong talking to, maybe rough him up a little, threaten his family, you know and any other bullshit you think will work?"

"Yeah, no sweat. This might be fun. I hate nosy fucks."

Jason proceeds to give Bobby all the relevant names and addresses. Bobby is instructed to call back when the job is done.

He put on the TV, devoid of the annoying, stupid sound and imagined that he was watching "Greed," directed by Erich Von Stroheim. He didn't think that this was very far-fetched, however the "creative" TV people had not yet figured out the ending. The story went on and on. He couldn't deduce whether this was due to ignorance or a ploy for monotonous, purposeful and infinite programming time.

He planned to catch his prey early in the morning. He thought; "There isn't anything more effective than being threatened and knocked around before one is fully awake." He hoped the busybody was not an early riser. He got something to eat and drink and fell soundly asleep while the entertainment device played another derivation of "The Price Is Right."

He got up well before sunrise and rushed through his usual routine, anxious to get things moving. He dressed in old, dirty jeans, a dark, hooded sweatshirt, topped by a brown, sleeveless, hunter's jacket, good for maximum arm mobility. He packed his .32 and drove in the darkness to his assignment's apartment building.

He parked on a side street a half block from the fifty year old, four-story, brick structure. The chilly morning air woke his senses. He thought he smelled overcooked breakfasts and he gagged. He took the stairs to the third floor and knocked on #305.

He heard a shaky, male voice say; "Who's there?"

"Maintenance."

He got near the door and said; "I didn't call Maintenance."

"Yeah, I know. The apartment below you has a ceiling leak and it's probably coming from here. Mind if I come in and take a look?"

The bolt was undone and the door opened, revealing a chubby, bald man of about 65. Bobby grabbed him by the throat and said; "Just keep quiet, pop. I only want to talk to you." He pushed pop inside, closed the door and said; "Have a seat on the couch." Bobby remained standing.

Pop balked at sitting and in an indignant voice said; "What's going on here?"

Bobby pulled his gun and put it in Pop's face. He said; "Just do as you're told, stupid and you'll be all right." He pushed him down on the couch. Pop silently stared at the weapon.

Bobby said; "Okay, listen up real good, asshole. My pal, John owns the candy store you've been spying on and he doesn't like it one little bit."

"I haven't been spying on anybody."

Bobby gave him a mild whack on the top of his head with his gun, raised his voice and said; "Don't you ever fuckin' argue with me. Got that?"

Pop's belligerence subsided and he silently nodded.

Bobby said; "Good boy. Now, before I was so fuckin' rudely interrupted, I was telling you about the fact that your presence is making my friend nervous. We want you to stay away from the candy store. Shit rots your teeth anyway. Do you think you can do that for us?"

Pop showed some reticence by extending his hands, palms up and saying; "I'm not doing anything, except making conversation. All of my old friends have moved away, mostly to Florida."

Bobby gave him a backhand across the face. He calmly said; "You're not a good listener. We do not want to be bothered by nosy old farts. Understand?"

"Yes, but......"

Bobby cut him off and interjected; "Yes, but nothing. I don't give a shit if you're Mr. Lonely. Go to the fuckin' senior citizen's place or fuckin' Florida. It's not my concern."

Pop put his hands on his face and appeared to be shedding a tear or two.

"Bobby said; "Hey, hey. Cut the bullshit. Big girls don't cry. Look, I know where your kids live and if I need to I can pay them a visit, too."

"No, don't do that. I'll stay away."

"That your word? I don't want to have to come back here for an unfriendly visit."

"Yes, you've got my word."

"All right, then." Bobby pointed his left index finger at Pop and said; "Be good, now." He turned and left, without looking back. He felt shitty again. While he started out the job anxious to terrorize some busybody motherfucker, his pet peeve, actually seeing the lonely old man made him remorseful. He decided not to do this type of work again. He thought about how it must be so much easier to fly a bomber and not see your victims; than it was to be a grunt soldier in hand to hand combat. "It was good that I stayed out of the military in the Viet Nam years."

He drove back to his apartment, under a morning sun, off and on eclipsed by ominous dark clouds. He was oblivious to the things around him, excepting other cars. His mind was elsewhere and he wasn't sure where that was. He was again unsettled with little things; like his life and job. He wished he could see Kelly.

The first thing he did when he got back to his apartment was to call Jason. Ring, ring, ring......

"Yeah."

"Gotta get a new opening line. That one's starting to bore me. It's Tony. I took care of business and the old fart understands."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. Asshole was crying, with a welt on his head when I left."

"Good man."

Bobby said; "We're all even now." He hung up. He hoped he would be able to feel even. He turned on the TV and sat.

Kelly, the cops and even George had an uneventful three weeks.
Chapter 18

Kelly woke up at 7:15AM on November 15. The sun was just beginning to rise. It had been cold lately and she was hoping for a better morning. She dawdled over her coffee, thinking about Bobby.

Bobby had a similar morning. He couldn't wait to get to their meeting spot at the river to see if she'd be there. The thought of her changing her mind about the whole thing had been preying on his mind all month. He also wanted to scout for unwanted company. He got there at 8:00AM. It was about 25 degrees. He was glad to see that there weren't any other cars parked there. He looked around for local hikers, dog walkers, horse riders and weirdo and saw no presences.

Kelly got there at 8:55AM, parked her car and walked a bit. Many of the trees still had on their fall foliage, so there was still a fair degree of privacy in some spots. She continued walking to the appointed area; some rocky land right on a river bed that could only be accessed by going through some soft, but eight foot tall plants, which turn most walkers back. The other side of the rocky land led to a heavily wooded area that got very little traffic. Kelly entered and saw him already waiting there. They ran to each other and embraced.

"Warm me up," he said.

She put her arms around him. "Hey, baby, it's been a long time."

He shut his eyes, held her and said; "For me, too. God knows, for me, too. It's so great to see you. I missed you." He paused, both feeling and enjoying the needed warmth of another loving body. After a few seconds he broke the silence and said; "For the first time in a while, I don't have any business to get out of the way, unless something has gone wrong on your end."

"No, things seem to be going remarkably well. I think the cops are through with me. I'm back in the house and I've sent the papers about the death claim to the insurance company."

"The insurance company will send out an investigator before they pay. He'll get copies of all the police papers and tapes, do an interview with you and probably want to look around the house some. A few of them are diligent, but if we get lucky, we'll get one of the others. The majority of them aren't too bright or motivated."

"How do you know?"

Feeling very good, Bobby broke the embrace, did a poor imitation of a pirouette and said; "Never caught me."

"You fucker, I ought to rape you right here." She put one arm on his back and the other in a private place. She kissed him on the mouth.

He kissed her back, but then broke away. "Great, baby, but I'm cold here. Can we go back to your house or a hotel?"

Kelly said; "You told me that's not a good idea."

"You're right. Something made me forget," laughing and smiling. "So what can we do?"

"Right here."

Bobby shrugged and said; "No, I don't think that's possible."

She surveyed the area and said; "There's no wind. The sun is reflecting off the water right at us. What if we just...?" She stuck out her tongue and licked her lips. He extended his lips as far as they could reach and kissed the air between them.

The band played on.

He stood up and they faced each other. It was far from a warm fall morning and the wind decided to join the festivities. However, they were in a better spot than most as the sun was magnified by the water, which acted as a mirror and radiator.

She said; "See it's warm already. Don't let the number on the thermometer fool you. At home I'm warm inside when it's seventy degrees with the sun out. When the sun isn't out and it's 70 degrees, I'm cold. So much for science."

He smiled and said, "I never analyzed it, but my instincts agree. I feel warmer than I have in a month." He gently kissed her lips and queried; "What are we going to do the rest of the day?"

"Let's walk."

They passed through a small incline that led from the rocky beach into the woods. Not many people walked there. It was at least 500 feet long and required a great deal of ducking and maneuvering to get through. She knew the way though and he followed. She said, "We'll have to meet only once a month, here for a year."

"Yeah," he said, dejectedly, "And it's not propriety that dictates, it's making sure we stay out of jail. My being here is actually stupid for you, because the feds may have pictures of me and how can we be sure no one is watching, or even snapping photos? I hate thinking about this stuff. Why the hell can't we just stay together?"

She understood what he was feeling and said; "Let's go somewhere else."

"No, then they'll follow you. If you take extended trips from home, someone will make it their business to find out all the details."

She kept walking silently. He liked walking behind her. She really filled out her pants. Ducking and occasionally smiling, they exited the woods to a coyote path alongside the river.

She said, "Now, I have to watch it. There's a turn in here someplace. There are really a few, but sometimes they get overgrown, in which case we might have to double back."

They were in a scraggly, lightly wooded area. The ground was almost all sand.

She said; "We can still make this a short walk if we just go a little right."

"I'd rather have a long one."

They walked silently for a few more minutes.

"Kelly, I just thought of something. If you're merely seen walking with a guy some otherwise uninvolved people might not like it."

"Anybody who looks at me with that kind of thing in mind has already seen me with guys. I have a couple of guy friends, some female ones, too."

She sat on a broken log. "This is the last chance for complete privacy, unless we go back the way we walked out. I'd rather not see the same sights a second time."

Bobby felt silly and said; "The only sights I saw coming in are the same ones I'm going to see going out."

Kelly didn't understand and looked at him quizzically.

He said; "You know. I was behind you and my view was kind of shortsighted."

She smiled and said; "I'm flattered. With all this beautiful nature around, thanks for picking me."

"No contest. I can't wait until we can stop all this nonsense."

They sat there for a few minutes, watching the birds fly. She was an experienced bird watcher and pointed out various species. He didn't know any bird names, except things like "robin" and "eagle." But he listened intently.

"Look, there's a yellow warbler."

"I missed it. I was watching the ground rather than the sky. Where should I look for birds?"

"Watch the treetops. See that thing that looks like a black spot?" She pointed up at a large branch about fifty feet off the ground. "That's probably a nest, a hole in the tree. Let's wait here some more to see if anyone comes or goes."

"See," she said excitedly, as two sky larks flew out of the hole. She was proud of her accurate prediction.

"Yeah." He sufficed with a fleeting view. But, he was enchanted and excited to see someone who could predict the future and enjoy something so much. He wanted to learn more about birds from her.

She said; "One of the nerdy things I did as a kid was watch birds. I knew everything about them. I also did that with dogs. Pretty bad, huh?"

"No, not at all. If I could do things over again I'd always have had a dog or two. I'd like to learn more about birds from you. Did you always have dogs?"

She wasn't sure if he meant what he said and responded; "Off and on, but I always had dog books. Pretty nerdy, huh?"

Bobby thought that she might want some kind of reassurance and honestly replied; "No, I think it's great to have strong interests, especially in living things. If you want to hear nerdy, I think I can easily outdo you on that one. I used to save stamps and coins."

Kelly furrowed her brow, grimaced, nodded and said; "That is pretty bad. What made you want to do that?"

Bobby shrugged his shoulders, laughed at himself and retorted; "I'm really not sure. A lot of kids used to do it. I guess I thought it was going to make me rich."

She got up and started walking back on a different route that was more open to possible observation. She decided to take the small risk as she thought the 25 degree temperature coupled with a steady northern breeze would probably keep everyone indoors. She also found it difficult to break her old custom of always utilizing a different path. As this time they were able to walk side by side and Bobby's focus was redirected to her face.

He thought he detected a melancholy in her eyes, as if her upbeat words were belying something inside that was saying; "Prepare for the next disaster." Before he could think of anything bright to say, she asked; "Where are we going to live?"

He said; "Any place with you is fine with me."

"I was thinking of staying in Castillo. I have a few friends here. I really don't want to leave."

He didn't have the same considerations. He said; "I can understand that. Would you want to stay in the same house?"

"I don't know. I'm glad you wouldn't mind staying here. That was the main thing. I'll probably stay in the house a while. On a practical level, who's going to buy it after what happened there anyway."

He nodded, but came up with a second thought; "You'll soon have so much money that you could give it to some charity."

"Weird feeling I'm not yet accustomed to. I guess that's a possibility. Or, maybe I'll give it to my old hippy friends and they can re-establish the commune."

"On another issue, we'll have to have some story when we get together, wherever that is. The cops will want to know who I am and that could be tricky, how we met, what we like about each other and other investigative questions. We'll have to get our stories in sync. Others will require an abbreviated version. It's probably the simplest to say that I was just passing through, we met and nature took its course." He regretted what his fretful mind went to, as he was still concerned about the look in her eyes. He hoped he was wrong. He paused a few seconds. She was silent. He said; "We've got a long time to think about it. Today's been a perfect day and I don't want to ruin it."

They slowly walked down a well-travelled path, heading back to their cars. Fortunately, no others were there. When they got to her car, they stopped, facing each other. He took her arm gently, kissed her and told her he loved her. She said; "I love you, too," but retained her thoughtful, far away, unsmiling look. He was stupidly compelled to add; "Please don't worry. Everything will be all right. We're due for some good luck."

She looked at him as if he had just committed an act of heresy and bravely said; "Worry about what?" She entered her Mercedes.

He walked to his car and said; "December fifteenth at 9:00 AM?"

She finally smiled at him, perhaps only to show that she could and said; "Unquestioningly right."

They each uneventfully drove away, she back home and he back to Amarillo. He thought about how she could always make him feel secure and wondered if that was what he was supposed to be doing for her and failing. Maybe things were mutual. He wasn't sure. He was so contented; he wondered how anyone could feel this hopeful. He also wondered how he could make a living in Castillo. He continued thinking about Kelly. There wasn't anything nerdy about her anymore. She's had quite a life, at least until five years ago. Her adaptation to "real life" was more successful than his, though far from perfect. She did everything with such ease. He not only was in love, she was also a kind of hero to him. He knew he'd be doing a lot more thinking about her over the next month. The thoughts were starting to be more visual; pictures and colors rather than words. For now he decided the colors were a light blue and deep red, resulting in purple if mixed. The precise shade was unclear, sometimes deep and sometimes a preferred lighter version. He picked up his stuff in Amarillo and headed back to Jersey City.

She thought about him. He could be sweet, funny, understanding and a worry wart. She actually liked that. Most men she had known seemed to think only of themselves. She wondered how long it would last. She considered her house. The current one wasn't exactly her taste. It was a bit too ostentatious and meticulously maintained. However, if she cut back on maintenance, it would merely look sloppy. She started to think of a house like George's, only a little bigger, a little better kept, with more trees, her library and, most importantly, Bobby.

She walked around the house, recalling the years spent there. She wondered how she survived. Or, did she survive? She recognized that now she was a different person and failed to see any sense of improvement. She took solace in her ability to be tough when necessary and the fact that no one is the same person they were five years prior, unless they spent those years six feet under.

She put on the CD player and fumbled for a good choice in the moment. She danced, as Patti Smith sang "Ain't It Strange."
Chapter 19

For most of the next month they merely passed time. He smoked a lot of grass, played music and watched television at his Jersey City apartment. It was three rooms, on the top floor of a three story wood frame structure, built probably right after World War II. There were two apartments on each floor. The exterior was of faded green aluminum siding and exhibited no particular style. The entire neighborhood was similar, though the color shades seemed slightly different, probably due to varying degrees of dirt. He had kept some of the furniture that he and Monica had at the farmhouse. It included a Queen Anne highboy, a Chippendale secretary, a William and Mary sideboard, a Heppelwhite bookcase with drawers, in which he kept his stereo system and some other classical items that were more appropriate in their former resting place. It was an interior of beauty covered by plain, dirty surroundings. Sometimes he enjoyed being inside the apartment, but other times it reminded him of his lost life with Monica. He had recurrent dreams of not being able to get home from New York City, where he previously worked. Some were ominous and would jar him awake. Other people living in the area were of mixed race and kept to themselves.

Kelly also spent most of her time at home, occasionally enjoying some reefer and wine, while playing music or reading in the library, which had pleasant memories for her, including the blood. She read a potpourri of books, half of them classics such as "Jane Eyre" and "Jude the Obscure."

The local cops passed time, too. They were stuck. They needed some kind of break. They had thoroughly gone over everything they could think of, but as of now, there was no information that would lead to a conclusion other than an anonymous mob hit. They thought that if it was a mob hit, there might be something around leading to the killer. But, where and what? Kelly? They got a list of everyone who stayed at any hotel or motel in a 25 mile radius. There were plenty of outsiders around just before and just after the murder, but the mere list didn't suggest anything. Worse, the list was long, as many tourists liked the fall season in the region best. They obtained a report of all the guests who checked out the day after the murder. It too, led them nowhere, as it was almost the length of the entirety of the list, as most stays were only for a night or two, on the road to Santa Fe or Taos. Besides, what hit man in his right mind would have used his own name, anyway? It was a swamp.

Sheriff Mack and Detective Steve Elliot were mulling things over in the Sheriff's office and Mack said; "We're really just spinning our wheels now."

Detective Elliot looked up at him and silently shrugged.

Mack said; "I'm going to call the boys at State and find out what they're up to. He got Daugherty on the phone and was told that through an informant they found out who Simburg owed the money to. But when they paid Angelo a surprise visit, they were stonewalled as first, he, of course, wouldn't admit that he was in the money lending business. Secondly, if he was, he wouldn't be killing his debtors, as "Dead men don't repay loans very well. Ha, ha." Daugherty went on to tell Mack; "Quite frankly, the case has all the earmarks of another unsolved hit to be added to the list." Mack hung up, relayed the lack of information to his assistant and queried; "Is there any possible procedure we didn't do yet?"

Elliot forcefully said; "I think that we could have been harder on Mrs. Simburg. I think you held back some because it was so close to the murder. Time has passed. It can't hurt to talk to her again. I've heard the tape of when you and the state guys interviewed her a few times. It sounds like you guys covered everything. I really don't know what else to ask her. Do you?"

Mack shook his head, indicating "No."

Elliot opened the fingers of both hands, suggesting a combination of futility and perseverance. He said; "Maybe we can just rattle her cage a bit and see if she says anything stupid." He didn't mention that he would relish the task, as he just plain didn't like her, perhaps because she was so "friendly" with men, but not him.

They discussed possible tactics and decided they would drop in unannounced to see her. It was an overcast day at 1:00PM when they arrived at the Simburg residence. As they approached the front door, they heard music. Kelly shut it off when she heard the bell. She quickly answered the door.

With a degree of sarcasm Sheriff Mack said: "Good afternoon. I hope we're not disturbing you."

Kelly immediately recognized the inflection and surmised the consequences. Rather than shoot the opening contentious shot, she remained composed, though her mind was racing and placidly said; "Good afternoon. Of course not, please come in."

Detective Elliot couldn't resist showing his cards, which were actually none and said; "Good afternoon. Do you usually play music this time of day?"

Kelly, now knew, rather than surmised, that the visit would be less than cordial. With an air of derision and nonchalance, she said; "I play it whenever I feel like it. Am I disturbing a neighbor?"

Sheriff Mack ignored the faux question and saw that the game had commenced. He flatly said; "I guess we didn't expect that from a grieving widow."

Kelly easily retorted; "Have you met many grieving widows? The last murder, that I heard of, in Castillo was about ten years ago."

Det. Elliot: "You and your husband didn't have a marriage made in heaven, did you?"

Kelly: "Do you?"

Det. Elliot: "Let us ask the questions, okay?"

Kelly: "No, we didn't have a marriage made in any heaven I've heard of. Its feeling was more that of this earth."

Det. Elliot: "Truth is that you didn't even like each other."

Kelly: "Not true at all. I think it was a very typical marriage."

Sheriff Mack: "Did your husband know about your male friends?"

Kelly: "Maybe, he never mentioned it to me though. I didn't bring it up."

Sheriff Mack: "If you did, would he have approved?

Kelly: "Maybe, I don't know. Visit the grave and ask him."

Det. Elliot: "You seem to be handling the situation very well. I might say without feeling."

Kelly: "What am I supposed to do? Put on a nun's outfit and cry a lot? I've got to rebuild my life."

Det. Elliot: "How much did you say that insurance policy was?"

Kelly: "I don't remember if I said it, but it is in the sum of five million dollars."

Det. Elliot: "That goes a long way toward rebuilding almost anything."

Kelly didn't think that merited a reply. And if she answered it honestly, he wouldn't understand or he'd pretend not to anyway. So she just stared at him.

Det. Elliot: "You've got no response to that one?"

Kelly: "I didn't hear the question part."

Det. Elliot, in a raised voice: "Don't you look forward to getting the five million dollars? Doesn't it make you happy?"

Kelly: "I'd be happier if it was ten million."

Sheriff Mack couldn't help but laugh out loud.

Det. Elliot: "How often did you and Alan have relations?"

Kelly thought that the question was absurd and probably emanated from desperation or stupidity. She also thought it possible that Sheriff Mack might have a similar viewpoint. She decided to make clear to her nemesis how much respect she had for him. She calmly stated; "In one sense, we always had relations. In the other sense, none of your business, but probably more than you and your wife."

Sheriff Mack had to laugh again. He put his hand over his mouth and shortened its duration. In an almost apologetic tone he said; "I'm sorry. That was very unprofessional of me. Look, Mrs. Simburg, we're just trying to find something out."

Kelly emphatically said; "The thing you should be doing is catching the killer and he's not here. I'd like to help you catch him for a few good reasons. One of them is that if you did, I wouldn't have to sit through a lot of stupid questions from this jerk here."

Sheriff Mack: "Kelly, you're too much. I apologize. We have little to go on and we thought we might scare something up."

Kelly: "So I'm a suspect."

Sheriff Mack: "Not anymore."

Det. Elliot: "Until you do something stupid."

Kelly: "If stupidity is what you're looking for, suspect yourself first."

Sheriff Mack: "We better go. Thanks for your time."

Det. Elliot just looked coldly at her.

They turned and walked back toward their car. No goodbyes were exchanged.

When the two cops were seated Sheriff Mack, in his customary driver's seat position, said; "I think that's it for the investigation of Kelly Simburg."

Det. Elliot said; "She's a son of a bitch."

Mack deadpanned; "That's not yet a crime."

Elliot just shook his head.

Mack mused; "She is some shit. I'd love to see her get really wild. But, we're not going to be rattling her cage any more. Are we?"

Kelly watched the police car go down the driveway. When it was out of sight she lit a joint and jubilantly danced to Patti Smith singing "Twenty-fifth Floor."
Chapter 20

On December 15 Kelly was already at the river when Bobby showed up at 9:15AM. They walked slowly toward each other. Kelly screamed; "You're late!"

Bobby threw his hands out to the sides and mumbled; "I'm probably close."

She registered a lesser outrage when she said; "Don't you wear a watch?"

"No, I can tell the time closely enough by the sun's position."

Now, sounding placated, or entertaining a new thought, she said; "So, How do you adjust for Daylight Savings Time and the night?"

"I don't know. I just do. At night I use the stars. It's really irrelevant because I never make night appointments anyway."

She smiled; "That could change."

He wanted to say something weird and tried; "When you look at the sky, you can count the stars, but still not feel or see the light."

"Far fuckin' out. That sounds a lot like 'You can't see the forest for the trees.'"

Starved for a comeback, he giggled at her and added; "Hmmm...... I'm not sure, but I think not. It means precisely what the words say. Maybe someday I'll be able to articulate it better."

Kelly laughed warmly; "I wouldn't mind teaching you some new vocabulary."

"I'd like that very much."

It was around 20 degrees on a morning exhibiting reasonable sunshine. They hugged and kissed. She said; "I've really missed you."

Bobby was upbeat upon seeing her. He forgot anything that he was the least bit nervous about and confidently said; "Soon. Soon we'll be together for eternity. I can't wait." He lifted her off the ground and spun around quickly.

When he put her down, she said; "I don't know about eternity. I think I'll have had enough after eighty years or so."

He pinched her rosy cheek and said; "We'll see. Hey, is everything going well for you?"

"The cops paid me a surprise visit a week ago. I think I handled it well. They haven't been back since."

"Excellent. No news at my end. I've been thinking about you."

"What do you think?"

"More than you probably expect. I think you're great, you're perfect and I love you more than anyone else can love anything."

Kelly said smiling: "That doesn't sound possible."

"It's unexplainable. I keep getting a message from somewhere that we're two souls who met and fell in love in heaven. It was my job to find you and repeat the process on earth. Or sometimes I think we were two parts of something split part at the big bang. We'll never be complete until we're together."

She stared, surprised. "Where did that come from?"

"It just popped into my head. It's the same old story though. Everything else is distraction. The only thing that matters is us being together."

"You're becoming a space pilot. Don't change on me. I love you with both your feet on the ground."

"They are on the ground. I occasionally fly away, but I can come back whenever I want. I'm with you here and I'm with you there."

Kelly replied; ""Sometimes I think of us as two birds, the last of our species, flying together."

"If someone hears us now, we'll probably be incarcerated for something other than murder."

She put her arms around his neck and said; "I want to fly some more."

"Let's show 'em what they wished they could do."

They smiled gently and happily and stared into each other's eyes.

She said; "It's very cold out."

"This sounds like a role reversal of last time." He got on his knees and, with difficulty, started to undo the button and zipper of her well stuffed jeans....

Gentle music came from somewhere.

She led him in a different direction than last time. They walked along a clear, easy path, so wide in most places they could walk side by side. A lot of the old cottonwood trees had shed large branches, which lay on the ground. They passed through easily, with only minimal attention to the few hazards and entered a grassy area. She directed him out of it to a densely wooded area, new and outrageously gorgeous to him, which they followed to an opening. They scooted through a large field, which appeared to be occasionally mowed. Even though that couldn't be the case, they both found it as appealing as a lawn. They crossed its ten acres and turned toward the river to where there were only coyote paths, some horse prints and no evidence of human foot incursion. She sat on a broken log. He settled as close to her as possible and put an arm around her. He said; "Come on, Kelly. Hold me. We've got to keep each other warm." For the first time in her recent memory she silently did exactly what she was told. She liked the new feeling and thought that she'd continue to...... at least for a while.

She said; "I once got chased and stung by about 20 bees right around here."

"Eek. Are you allergic?"

"No, but their stings hurt for some time. I was surprised because, usually bee stings are pretty mild in New Mexico. I was walking one of my dogs through an area with tall grass. He started to bolt and I saw a bunch of bees on him. I started to brush them off and then they just jumped on me. We ran about 50 feet and they were gone. We both got stung five or six times."

"That's nice that you loved your dog so much."

"Ah, it's instinctive. It's one of the biggest adventures I've had walking here. I've been here thousands of times. When it warms up a little, I'm going to bring some wine and food for us."

"At 9AM?"

"Sure. I do like my wine."

They spent another half hour enjoying pointless chit chat and looked at the sky for birds. They started walking back the same way they had come. She grabbed his hand and led him on a small diversion, to an area on the banks of the river frequented by fishermen and a lot of would be fishermen.

"The river's usually low this time of year. The fish come here because the water's warmer and much slower moving."

They could see some of the fish. They watched them a while. Carp occasionally broke to the surface as there was some water only two feet deep. They made a slapping sound on re-entry, always getting Bobby and Kelly's attention.

She pointed at one of the acrobatic show offs, smiled wickedly at Bobby and said; "Someone once told me they were dirty bottom feeders."

Bobby sheepishly grinned and thought a few seconds. He replied; "I don't really understand. I can take that two ways. Who says the bottom is dirty? Isn't that the best soil? Or, who says the feeders are dirty? They're right in the water getting a constant bath." The remaining swallows flew around in circles, noisily.

Kelly looked in his eyes, made a wry smile and said; "I like your questions. The answers are implied."

She pointed up river at a piece of land that jutted into it. She said; "Lately, I've been seeing an ibis over there, but when I get to the spot, I never find it. It's a difficult point to get to."

"Want to try it now?"

"No, let's head back. I'm starting to really feel the cold."

They walked silently back the way they came. When they got to their cars, he took her hands, looked in her eyes and said, "Soon."

She nodded and mumbled; "Soon."

He let go of her hands, put his arms tightly around her waist, pulled her to him and said; "God damn it, Kelly. Not soon enough. The day went so fast."

Kelly held him, both happy and sad that he said what he did. She made no reply. She looked into his eyes, broke away and entered her car.

Bobby's eyes were fixed on her as she drove away. He thought he saw tears and then felt his own.
Chapter 21

Mabel Elliot's relentless, aggressive, feigned cheerfulness resulted in a dearth of neighbors desirous of being flushed with joy. So, she was relegated to solo walks at the river and just happened to be there when Bobby and Kelly were. Mabel is the childless wife of "Rattle the Cage" Detective Steve Elliot, with whom she enjoys "relations" as often as Kelly and her dearly departed. Her five foot, five inch 160 pound body is always covered with a dress, today's version being a cutesy light violet pastel, somewhat at odds with her size and 32 year age, giving the appearance that she was taking her non-existent daughter to the prom and they mistakenly cross dressed. She didn't think it appropriate for women to wear pants outside the home and, even there, not in the presence of company. Suffice to say that she's a somewhat disgruntled woman with few interests in the world that don't involve watching someone who appears to have a life. Curiosity, her apparent guiding motivation, she would surreptitiously like to inhibit anything that has the audacity to move freely. It would be no revelation to add that she never really liked Kelly very much, probably because guys did.

On her solitary, of necessity, morning constitutional, she saw just what would make her day; Kelly with yet another guy. The potential for chit-chat enormous, she knew various vantage points to keep an eye on that slut with a man she had never previously seen. In the interest of propriety, she was duty bound to observe the two offenders. This was a particularly egregious travesty so soon after Alan Simburg's demise. She was hoping she'd see something nefarious enough to photograph and unfortunately didn't. It really didn't matter anyway, as she carried no camera, perhaps a testimony to her competence. Unseen, she followed them back to their cars and watched them leave. She thought, "Something has to be done about this sort of thing. Besides, I don't have any pressing engagements scheduled all day." However, she again, missed the significance of her own thoughts. She walked home and luckily Steve had not yet left for work.

She said; "Hey, Steve."

He affected a tone of hurriedness and said; "Hey, Mabel. I'm on my way out. I'm a little late already."

"Guess who I just saw?"

With his hand on the doorknob, Steve disinterestedly said; "Beats me."

"Kelly Simburg walking with some guy I've never seen before, at the river."

Steve's interest was now piqued, as, he too, was no Kelly fan, especially after she handled his questioning so well during their last meeting. He wouldn't mind having a reason to ruin her day, or at least a part of it. He continued the conversation, which was now of interest to him and asked; "What were they doing?"

"Just walking together. But still, it's bad enough she so often does that, but especially now."

"I know, I know. This whole murder business just suits her smart little ass too well. I need another avenue to pursue. The Sheriff likes her."

"Well, find out who this guy is and ask her about him."

"What did he look like?"

"I never got closer to them than 250 feet or so. He looked like a lot of people; thin, a little taller than her, white, long, graying hair that covers his ears, middle aged...."

"That's not very helpful, but it's a starting point. Did your observational powers glean anything else?"

"No. I suppose I was too shocked."

"Well, you keep thinking about it and see if anything else comes to mind." He left for work.

He pulled into the police headquarters parking lot and saw that the Sheriff's car was already there. He went in and saw the Sheriff in his office. He went right in.

"Good morning, Sheriff. Sorry I'm late."

"Good morning. Don't worry about it."

"I was probably on police business anyway. My wife saw Kelly walking at the river with some unknown guy."

"I think that has been seen before."

"I know, I know. But, now?"

With a grimace and an air of disinterest, Mack said; "Ah, you know Kelly. But, if you really want to pursue it, we may as well dot all the 'I's' and cross all the 'T's.'"

Steve turned to leave.

"But don't give it top priority. There's other work here."

With an "Okay" Steve left and drove back home. His wife was puttering around in the kitchen.

"Hey, Mabel. I've got some more time to talk to you. Try to remember everything you can about this guy with Kelly."

"I don't remember anything more than I've already said. Right now I'm having a problem with the garbage disposal. You keep telling me you're going to look at it and you never do. If it's not fixed, I'll probably have a permanently blocked pipe any day now. It's starting to stink, too."

He often thought of her as a complaining machine, but usually was now adept at getting around that. "Tell you what. I'll take a look at the disposal; you go into another room and think about when you saw Kelly and this guy. Like what did he wear, the time, strange cars and anything else?"

She left, momentarily happy that her disposal may soon be working and focused on the next item on her agenda. She thought about it for ten minutes and couldn't come up with anything new.

Steve got lucky. He merely had to push the restart button of the disposal to get it going again. She re-entered to hear it grinding and was elated.

"Thanks, Steve. I'm sorry, I can't help you much. It was 10AM or so. When I first got to the river I did notice two cars; Kelly's and one with out of state plates."

"Do you remember the state?"

"No."

"Do you remember the color?"

"Yellow, I think. I'm really not sure."

"What kind of car?"

"I don't know cars. It didn't look expensive. It was a common looking four door car, maybe three or four years old."

"Do you remember what he was wearing?"

"Blue jeans and some kind of brown jacket."

"Dark brown or light brown?"

"In between."

Steve said; "Thanks," hoping she didn't detect the modestly sarcastic tone that emerged effortlessly. He wondered how it was possible for someone to be so incompetent at their life's passion.

Though it wasn't his area of expertise, it sounded to him like a description that could fit a hit man who wanted to remain anonymous. At least now, if he saw a stranger or a car fitting this vague description, Steve had an excuse to stop him for some reason. He also could drive to the river every day around 10:00AM and observe.

He drove back to the office and attended to the usual routine.

For the next two weeks he drove to the river daily at 10:00AM, to no avail. He remembered being there with Mabel, before she decided to be the complaining machine. He realized he did have some things in common with Kelly and her friends. He did stop one car that fit the sketchy description; however, that too led nowhere. The driver had good credentials and was just heading back home to Texas after a few days in Las Vegas. There wasn't much potential in these endeavors, so Steve decided to make one more visit to Kelly's.

He drove to White Horse Lane, parked in front of Kelly's house, rang the doorbell and Kelly answered rather quickly.

"I heard you pull in the driveway."

"Yes. Good morning. We're wrapping up this case and if now is a good time, I'd like to ask you a few more questions."

"Come on in." She led him to the dining room and offered him a seat. She took another. "I guess you're not making much headway," with a bit of an accusing tone.

"There are still some directions to go. We've gotten reports of cars with out of state licenses passing through, with some descriptions."

"Is that unusual here?"

"Frankly, no, it isn't. Let me come right to the point. About two weeks ago you were seen at the river with an unknown white male. Can you tell me something about him?"

The danger light went on in her head. But she knew it would be best to remain calm and appear helpful. She sighed and said, "I'm embarrassed."

He just looked at her rather than repeating the question.

"Occasionally I meet someone who gets my interest. I think you're probably referring to one of those days. About two weeks ago I met a guy in town and we went walking by the river."

"Wasn't it still pretty cold at 10AM?"

"Not if you keep moving."

"Who was the guy?"

"You know, this is very embarrassing. I don't know his name. He was passing through, stopped at the convenience store for something when I was there and said something that made me laugh."

"How did you get to the river?"

"We started a silly jokey conversation at the store and he told me he was interested in exploring the area a bit. He had never been here before and wanted to see some of the sights before he left."

"So."

"So I told him I was heading to the river anyway and that maybe he might be interested in the view. We each took our own car. He followed me and we walked around a while."

"What did he look like?"

"I really didn't look at him that often. I liked him because he could make me laugh."

"Anything?"

"Average size. Brown hair. Thin. Spoke as if he were college educated, but not pretentious. And funny."

"What did he wear?"

"A brown jacket and blue jeans."

"Did he say where he was headed?"

"I only remember him saying that he was passing through."

Steve saw that her story approximated Mabel's, maybe even coincided with it, except without the nefarious intentions. He, now, was beginning to feel embarrassed.

"I thank you for your time, Kelly. I think we know everything we need to. This investigation is no longer active."

"Mob hit man because of the debts?"

"Looks and sounds more and more like that. Just about everything points in that direction."

"I really hope you catch him, for many reasons. Before the insurance people pay my claim they're going to send out an investigator. It would be nice for me if the culprit was caught prior to that misery."

"We'll keep our eyes and ears open."

As he walked back to the car, he noticed that he was beginning to be a bit of a Kelly fan.

Kelly was certain that she handled the situation well and wanted to share her joy. She drove to George's.

There were two cars in the driveway this time; one was George's clunker and the other was a new lavender Saab. Kelly didn't know the car, but when she saw two bumper stickers; one read "Neuter and spay. Don't let them stray" and the other; "Vote Democratic," she knew it belonged to Arlene, one of George's and hers old communal friends. She thought better of again barging in and chose to knock at the door this time. After about fifteen seconds, George came to the door, only partially opening it.

George graciously said; "Hey, Kelly. It's really great to see you, but, boy, do you ever have timing. You still don't like Alexander Graham Bell, do you?"

Unflustered, Kelly smiled and said; "You know I like surprises."

George opened the door the rest of the way and Kelly saw Arlene standing fifteen feet away. She was now forty years old and weighed about 150, as opposed to her college years 110. It looked like the extra 40 went to the right places. There was something else different; she had dyed her hair a wine color. She had on blue jeans, one of George's green button-up shirts and chose no adornment for her bare feet. She lit a joint, took a puff, walked over and handed it to George.

As soon as she stepped inside Arlene put her arms around Kelly and gave her a brief hug. She said; "It's been ages, Kelly. I've missed you. Look what happened to me." She circled around putting her hands to her breasts and hips, to draw attention to her new flesh. She then ran her hands through her long wine colored hair and laughed.

Kelly reached forward and put her arms around Arlene. She said; "It looks like only good things have happened to you, girl. I do hope I interrupted something."

Arlene hugged Kelly again, but this time put her hands on Kelly's ass and said; "You didn't interrupt anything that wouldn't be improved by your company."

Kelly didn't anticipate this and consequently was in a bit of a quandary. While, under other circumstances she would have appreciated the invitation, she felt some allegiance to Bobby. She also realized that it was better not to tell them about him. She took her turn and her time with the passed joint and got an idea. Not wanting to hurt Arlene's feelings Kelly smiled warmly at her and said; "You've probably heard about what I've been going through lately and I've been getting an education in propriety and what the neighbors will say."

Arlene took Kelly's hand, placed it on one fleshy breast and said; "Since when do you give a shit?"

Kelly gently squeezed Arlene and said; "Since the possible charge is murder. I'm going to give a shit at least until the investigation is over."

Arlene coyly responded; "I've heard you've been hanging around here a lot lately."

George said; "Not enough."

Kelly nodded and emphatically said; "Not enough."

Just then, Daisy, George's Dalmatian, entered the room and walked over to Kelly, who got on her knees to give Daisy a big kiss. Daisy started frantically licking Kelly's face.

Kelly said; "George, has she had the operation?"

George said; "Yes, thanks. She's looking good, but a few more months' recovery is necessary. She's not limping and doesn't seem to be in any pain."

Kelly said; "Good," as the joint again reached her. The three were getting a little buzzed. George put on the Rolling Stones doing "Sway". When they finished the joint, the three were looking at each other with warm smiles.

Kelly said; "I think I better be going."

Arlene said; "No, stay."

George added; "Please."

Kelly turned to the door and put her hand on the knob.

Arlene said; "Is there anything new about the murder? I'm really curious about how anyone knew that he was dead."

Kelly gave one more hug to both of them, laughed and said; "He stopped negotiating." Kelly broke away, opened the door and said; "Have fun, babies," and closed the door behind her. When she got into her car she couldn't help but think of good old times and contrasted that with the drudgery of the last five years. She hoped that Arlene and George were not insulted by her departure. She suspected not. She normally would have liked to stay and play, but now that she was with someone very special, who thought that she was also special, it didn't seem right.

She didn't want to go home yet, so she drove to the river and walked. She thought; "Maybe, better things are on the way."
Chapter 22

It was a warmer, clear winter morning the next meeting date of January 15th, about 40 degrees at 9:00AM. When Kelly entered the appointed area, Bobby was already waiting. Smiling, they walked slowly to each other and embraced. She gently pulled away.

She said; "Bobby, we've got to do something right now."

He started to slide a hand under her jacket and said; "Great day. I was hoping you'd say something like that."

She moved away and seriously said; "No, not that. I had a little problem and found out a few things. I got an unexpected visit from one of the local cops, Steve. Someone saw us together the last time you were here. They got a vague description of you and your car. So I think the least we should do is get your car out of here."

Bobby nerves were in full display as he quickly rattled off; "Good thinking. We'll talk more later. Where should we put my car? Not at your house."

"No, of course not. The neighboring town has a huge discount retail store. There are always many cars parked in their lot. Yours shouldn't attract special attention in a few hours."

"Maybe I should leave entirely, right now."

"Oh, baby boy. You probably should, but it's such a nice day. I was hoping......You know."

He didn't need much convincing. Each re-entered their car and he followed her to the lot and parked next to her. He got out. There were about 200 cars around them.

She motioned and said; "Come on. Get in here."

He got in the front passenger seat of her car and said; "I'm your prisoner. Where are you taking me?"

"I don't know. I'll think about that a bit. Let's just drive for a while, away from Castillo."

"Tell me what happened with the cop."

"Not much more than I already told you. I think he was trying to bluff me into saying something stupid. I didn't and was proud to have handled it un-contentiously. He may even feel guilty and like me better now."

"You're the greatest, Kelly." He put his left hand high up on her right leg and softly massaged.

"That's my driving foot. Can't you wait a while?"

They smiled at each other and he put his hand back in his lap.

Kelly spoke jokingly; "We can never get married. I haven't told you that my middle name is Katherine. So, I'd be Kelly Katherine Kowalski. KKK. Some idiots will probably think that there's something intentional at work and I don't want to deal with it."

"Were you ever a member?"

"Get out of here. I should smack you."

Silence persisted for a few minutes while she continued to drive.

He said; "Where are you taking me?"

"Some hotel probably."

"Great. We'll turn the heat all the way up and get all our clothes off for a change."

"I'm not sure I'll feel all that comfortable in some strange hotel."

"Someone once told me that the problem with life is that you have to do everything before you're prepared. If you wait until you are fully prepared, the time has passed."

"I'll have to ponder that one someday."

"With your clothes off."

She drove another quiet quarter hour.

She said; "You know I'm not 21 anymore."

"Neither am I. So what?"

"It's tougher on women. All the near naked bodies you see on television are under thirty."

"I've watched a lot of European films. Over there it's not unusual to have a leading lady aged fifty to seventy."

"Seventy?"

"Yeah, Giulieta Massina, in a Fellini film called "Ginger and Fred." Besides, it's not your body I love, I love you."

"You don't love my body?"

"Are you trying to be difficult at the last minute?"

"No."

"I do love what I've seen of your body. What I'm trying to say is that it wouldn't matter to me if you weighed 250 pounds and had surgical scars all over. Don't you get it? I love you, your spirit, the totality of you."

"You're so weird. I love you, too."

They noticed a store named "Theatrical Accoutrements" seemingly alone in the middle of nowhere, as suddenly clouds rolled in and a downpour began to soak the treeless, flat, sandy terrain. Kelly lost clear sight of the road and pulled into the paved, well maintained lot, parking far from the store.

She said; "To be safe, I'm going to sit here until it blows over."

"I don't want to sit here forever."

"Being from the East Coast you probably don't know that the weather out here can dramatically change quickly."

"What's quickly?"

"I've often seen storms like this one end in five minutes and then the sun comes back out to stay out."

"Well, just in case this one doesn't, let's go inside and see what kind of accoutrements they've got."

"We're about two hundred feet from the door and I really can't see at all."

"I can still see some. Either let me drive up to the entrance, or let's get soaked."

They looked right at each other and slyly laughed. She screamed; "Let's get soaked."

They exited the car, slamming the doors behind them and started running. Bobby reached for her hand successfully and they blurted out indecipherable happy sounds as they ran. The rain was coming so hard they got totally saturated, though neither cared. They were pleasantly surprised that the water seemed warmer than the air of the day.

The shop sign was red neon hung across the largest front window of the one story older adobe structure. No doubt it was a private residence at one time, its flat roof a vantage point for many children and adults. The climbed up the two steps leading to a wooden porch, which contained a few chairs, a bench, some potted plants and a small table hosting a well-used ashtray. Still exhilarated, but dripping wet the two paused for a second. Kelly said; "We really shouldn't go in. We're liable to make a mess of the place."

Bobby made a short laugh at her and said; "I agree, liable being the key word."

"I don't understand."

"Liable, like in liability, stupid." He gave her a gentle slap in the head with his free hand.

She just looked at him disgustedly for a second. "I just figured out your poor attempt at humor. Liable, liability, legal liability. Ha, ha. You deserve two smacks in the head if you think that's funny." With that she used her free hand to smack his head, not as gently as he had done hers.

He said; "Hey, that hurt."

"So did that joke."

They both let go of the others hand and faced each other with stern looks on their faces, though in his case it was faked. He started to laugh first and she joined a few seconds later.

Bobby said; "We're going to have to make a rule here. How about 'No head shots'?"

"How about, no shots at all?"

"I'm close to that, but how about one of Grace Slick's best rules, "Do not put your hands on another person, unless you intend love."

"I don't remember that line and I know many of the Airplane's songs."

"Oh, it wasn't from a song. They were on stage, when some fights broke out in the audience. It may have been Altamont. She just went to the mike and said that."

"I like it."

The front door opened and a tall, graying gentleman approximately their age came out. He had a friendly distinguished air when he said; "Don't stay out here in the cold. Please come in. Are you theatre people?"

Bobby: emphatically; "Noooo."

Kelly: "Only amateur."

Bobby: "We really shouldn't go in. As you can see we're soaked. I'm clumsy, especially now and I'd probably ruin something precious inside."

Distinguished gentleman (D.G.): "There's nothing in here that wouldn't be improved with a little water. So don't argue with me anymore and come in."

The two followed the gracious man through the light purple door, into the shop. The door stuck in their minds as a contrast to the light brown stucco finish and the white of the window trims. Their attention was immediately drawn to the masks and numbers hanging on the wall.

D.G.: "Do you like the masks?"

Bobby: "Some yes, some no."

Kelly: "Same."

D.G.: "Want to buy some?"

Bobby just looked at Kelly who said; "Maybe."

D.G.: "I'll go in the back and let you look around at your leisure. Just let me point out one of my favorite items." He led them to the middle of the store and stopped in front of a dress, which was pink, frilly and laced. "This was once worn by Judy Garland in one of her musicals."

Kelly: "I'm not into dresses."

Bobby: "I'm not either." He paused a few seconds. "Now, if you have a tight pair of blue jeans worn by Marilyn Monroe anywhere, I'd like to see that."

D.G.: "Wouldn't we all." With that, he turned and went into a back room. When he was out of sight Kelly gave Bobby an open handed slap on the shoulder.

Bobby smiled, though he used one hand to protect his head; "Hey, don't put your hands on another person unless you intend love and all that."

Kelly calmly responded; "I did." Bobby closed one eye and gave her a smiling, but also questioning look. They perused the store, concentrating on the walls, for a few silent minutes, during which time they circled the entirety of the place.

Kelly asked; "Can you find at least five masks you like?"

Bobby said; "Sure, easily."

"Good, me too. Let's get that guy back out here."

They walked to the open door leading to the back room and she knocked on it twice. The presumed proprietor popped up from the chair he was occupying behind a light, flimsy looking desk. It probably was made of pecan, stained a light brown. He said; "Have you two decided?"

Kelly: "Yes, we have."

Kelly directed the gentleman to the five masks she had chosen, he finding the appropriate duplicates in pink boxes on shelves, below their aerial model. Bobby went through the same process; however his five boxes were blue.

Kelly: "Do the numbers cost much?"

D.G.: "No, $2 apiece."

Kelly to Bobby: "Do you have any favorite numbers?"

Bobby: "Yes, one, but not in the styles, colors or materials I see here."

Kelly: "I don't have a favorite, but I like them."

Kelly to D.G.: "Why don't you pick out thirty different ones for us?"

D.G.: "Is there any color preference?"

Kelly: "No."

Bobby: "No."

The distinguished gentleman went about his business and tried to accomplish his task. The numbers on the wall were not as easy to line up with their lower counterparts as were the masks, simply because they were smaller, which resulted in one unintentional duplication. He rounded everything up and put the thirty boxes in a brown paper bag and carried it to the cash register, followed by the two.

D.G.: "That will be $110, please."

Both reached into their pockets for wallets, intending to use their credit cards."

Kelly to Bobby: "Got cash?"

Bobby to Kelly: "Yeah, sure."

Kelly to Bobby: "Let's pay $55 each."

Bobby to Kelly: "Fine."

They each managed to find the exact right amount and handed it to the check-out man. He thanked them and they walked back outside, taking note of the other items on the shelves that they had missed the first time through, imagining the ones they had never seen at all.

When they walked back outside, they were glad to see that the torrential rain had completely stopped and a bright golden sun tinged with red was rewarming the desert. Though they didn't expect it this quickly, at a distance it looked as if small green plants were starting to protrude from the sandy soil. They put the bag in the back seat, got to their usual positions and she drove out of the parking lot back to the road. On the ride they didn't see any houses and their attention, if any, was given to the orchards of green cactus, which were, at their largest, eight feet tall and five feet wide. "Cholla," she said. "They're best to stay away from. The needles are sharp, large and painful. I heard of a guy who fell into one and it took months for him to get all the needles out."

Bobby winced and asked; "How did he get that stupid?"

Kelly responded; "I'm really not sure. This is a third or fourth hand story. But, I'm told he was just clumsy and maybe a bit drunk and managed to fall face first into one." She laughed.

Bobby winced more than the first time and asked; "Did he get the needles in his face, too?"

Kelly was still laughing; "Yeah." It was quiet for thirty seconds and then she added; "When we get a warm season, drenching rain cholla does produce the prettiest pink, red, huge flowers reminiscent of roses. Plant retailers do not carry them because of the danger and possible lawsuits and poachers will poach any other cactus first. Hardly anyone has them at their house."

Bobby noted an apparent analogy and said; "I can't remember. Do you have any at your house?"

Kelly grinned viciously and said; "Yes, quite a few. It's the only kind of cactus I really like."

"Where did you get them, since the retailers don't carry any?"

"They were already there when I moved in the house and I've never removed them. In fact some new ones have grown from seeds of the old, carried by the wind."

In a few minutes they entered some small town and were on a tranquil main street with a variety of retail stores, foundations for the apartments above them. Most buildings were two stories, made with brick of varying ages, exhibiting colors in the spectrum between almost brown and rather bright red.

They drove through the entirety of the sleepy little place. At the edge of town Kelly sighted a member of one of the national hotel chains and instinctively pulled into its lot. The plastic, aluminum and painted wood three story structure stood in defiance to the main street. Its mass produced modernistic appearance was only countered by its seeming lack of innovation, no doubt dictated by cost.

She parked in front of the office and went in, leaving Bobby in the car.

"Good day," the overeager office attendant chirped. She was an attractive and extremely neat blond woman of about thirty. She wore a uniform dress of orange and brown buttoned to the neck. No books were anywhere in her proximity. Her plastic name tag said Linda Harker.

"Good day," retorted Kelly.

"It's sure been a fine day today, hasn't it?" the blond cheerfully said.

Kelly didn't feel like giving her an evaluation of the day's prior high and low points, so simply said; "Certainly has. I hope you're doing fine yourself."

"Just great, thank you. You're in luck today. There's a special on our two bedroom suites; $60 per night for two bedrooms versus $50 per night for one."

"We'll only require one. But we'd like it to be on the top floor."

"No problem," replied Linda, moving a few feet to a computer and putting her hands to the keyboard. "Name please."

"Kelly........," she hesitated, realizing that she might use any of three last names; Patrick, Simburg, or even Kowalski. She tried to anticipate if a wrong choice could lead to a problem. She decided that she really didn't have that much choice and chose the name emblazoned on her credit card. "Simburg."

"Forget for a while," Linda smiled.

"Yes, you know sometimes you never can quite forget your maiden name." They both smiled wistfully.

Linda continued; "Address?"

"239 White Horse Lane, Castillo, New Mexico."

"Oh, not that far from here."

"Depends on which road you take."

"Home phone?"

"505/890-3215."

"Room for two?" looking toward Bobby sitting in the light blue Mercedes parked in front of the office."

"Yes."

"Your husband's name is.....?"

Kelly again had to quickly evaluate her possible replies. Bobby Kowalski was not a wise answer. Alan Simburg was better, but still had its faults. She decided to go with Bobby, hoping Linda would assume Simburg. "Bobby."

"Did you remember his maiden name too?"

Kelly just laughed, as did Linda. Linda continued typing something into the computer for ten seconds.

"Card, please," said Linda.

Kelly reached into her blue jeans, pulled out a wallet and retrieved the card and offered it to Linda. It was apparently in satisfactory condition, so Linda ran it through a machine which produced a paper requiring Kelly's signature.

Linda said; "One day, I presumed."

Kelly simply said; "One day," not bothering to inform Linda that, in some senses, there is really only one day.

Linda turned around to retrieve some keys from a light brown peg board behind her. "Number eight should do nicely for you."

Kelly took the keys, said "Thanks," and as she turned to leave Linda said; "Have a good time." Kelly turned her head back toward Linda to see her smiling at her knowingly. Kelly smiled and nodded at her, continuing out the door and to the car. When she got back in the driver's seat she said to Bobby; "Probably no one is going to ask, but if they do ask you, say your name is Bobby Simburg. It's harder to explain than it's worth. Just trust me on this one."

Bobby's eyes smiled at hers and he said; "Fine, I'll try to remember that."

Kelly said; "We're in number eight. It's on the top floor. Can you see it?"

His gaze took a panorama of the facility. In a few seconds he noticed a pattern to the ersatz modern structure and he directed her to the appropriate parking space near an unstained wooden stairway. He got out of the car first and picked up the package from the back seat. She exited a few seconds after him, noting that they were near the center of the three buildings, their wing built in a straight line, parallel to the road, the second of similar size perpendicular to the first and the third again, perpendicular to the second, also of similar size. Escape, if necessary, was easiest through the fourth unimproved side, which was contiguous to the road and directly in front of their temporary domicile.

He led her up the stairs of necessity, as the size of the staircase itself, precluded easy movement of side by side passengers. They joined hands at the third floor landing. He leaned his shoulder against the green painted heavy metal door and opened it. She brushed by him and led him down fifty feet of brown carpeted hallway to number eight, seemingly in the center of it. A thought of being left holding the bag crossed his mind, but he dismissed it as silly and perhaps funny. The red stained wooden door numbered eight stood out from the others in its intensity. She inserted the key and turned it to no avail. She checked to see if there was anything on the small chain containing the number eight and sure enough, there was.

Kelly said; "I wonder if they screwed up which keys belong to which room?" She turned away from the door and took a step back in the direction from which they came and added; "I'm going back to the office and get Linda to straighten this out."

Bobby put his free left hand gently on her shoulder, stopping her and said; "First, let me try." He offered the same hand and she put the keychain in it. He inserted one of the three keys and turned it. The door did not immediately open, but when he lowered his shoulder to it, adding some force, it sprang open. He said; "You must have picked the wrong one."

She entered and first flipped on the light switch near the door and then closed the blinds covering the picture window which ran the length of the front, excepting the door. In the artificial light the room took on a grey tone though that was not the natural colors there. The walls were painted a light green. The bedspread was embroidered in a rainbow of colors covering an eggshell white background. The bed itself occupied the center back of the room, against the wall and was seat to two plushy pillows embroidered in a similar fashion to the bedspread, a swirling pattern. At one side of the bed was a small functional cream colored table with a typical nondescript black lamp. The only other furniture in the room was a knockoff early American chest of drawers, painted a cream color and a severe looking chair next to it of undetermined origin, upholstered lightly in red over a medium brown frame. A telephone, notepad and two pens sat on the chest, which was below the unattached mirror, enclosed in a grey metal frame and ran the length of the chest. The ceiling was painted white in a spiral pattern and contained a screen, presumably a television; however there was no evidence of any device that might operate it.

Bobby closed the door behind him, put the bag down on the burnt sienna medium shagged carpet, turned the two latches on it and secured the chain. He said; "Where should I put this stuff?"

Kelly pondered a few seconds and then responded; "I'll take the pink boxes into the bathroom with me. Put the blue boxes on the bed. Open the thirty boxes and spread the numbers, as randomly as possible, all over the floor."

"Before you occupy the bathroom, can I use it first? I've been holding it awhile and I'll be quick."

She laughed; "Sure."

He quickly walked to the bathroom, opened the white paneled door and turned on the light. It was extremely ordinary with the sink, tub and bowl a light blue. The tiling on the walls and floor were more complicated with mixed shades of blue and white. The ceiling had the same spiraling white appearance as the main room. He did his business as quickly as possible, flushed the toilet, remembered to put the seat back down and exited to find Kelly standing there holding her five pink boxes.

"Naked, right?" she questioned, possibly with a degree of trepidation.

"That's the best way, baby girl." He responded with a sly look in his eyes and a slightly tilted head.

She started to head to the bathroom, then turned to him and said; "You know I haven't showered today?"

"That's quite fine with me. I hope you didn't shower yesterday either. I took one last night."

She said; "Fine and dandy with me."

He answered; "I knew we both had good taste, just like candy."

She smiled, nodded and carried her boxes into the already lit bathroom, closing the door behind her. She also had need of the bowl, did what was necessary and flushed. She started to disrobe standing in front of the mirror over the sink. As each item was removed she couldn't help but perform a personal evaluation. She didn't feel comfortable with this and didn't feel comfortable with that. She wished she were 20 rather than 40. After a few minutes she decided that she didn't want to balk now, despite her unconquerable nerves. She shut off the artificial light, but could still see her perceived defects, as the drawn blinds in the small window still let in some natural light. She again looked in the mirror, at times putting one foot up on the sink to get a better view of her bottom half. She tried flipping the blinds around, but it didn't help any. She didn't want to take forever and got an idea. She opened the boxes containing her masks, put one on, picked up the other four, took one last look at herself, opened the door and went out.

Bobby was sitting on the carpet, naked, with his legs tucked under, in a yoga position, though leaning back on his hands for balance. Of course the second part of Kelly that he saw surprised him. The mask looked to him like a severe 50 year old Oriental woman, pale yellow skin, slits for cruel eyes, bizarre eyebrows, black hair tied up with elastic bands going in all directions, a small nose and a smiling mouth, either evocative of a spider or a hawk. He wasn't sure if the smile was with him or at him. He nervously tried to joke and said; "Kelly, when did you become Madame Wan?"

Kelly said; "I'm trying to keep you from focusing on the body I was just looking at."

"Kelly, your body is perfection to me. Take off that stupid mask."

She took a second approach saying; "Don't you believe in foreplay?"

"I thought that's what we were doing all day."

"Well, I want more. Go put on a mask."

Bobby got up and went to the bed, where he had left his boxes. While he had his back to her, Kelly took a hard look at his naked body and started to evaluate it just as she had done her own. There were quite a few deficiencies, but she decided that she would voice her observations the same time she decided to be a bitchy hairdresser, or in today's proper parlance, a makeup artist. Bobby looked at his five choices and decided to go with the one of an angelic little boy with a sad countenance. He put it on, picked up the other four, walked over to Kelly and took his former position on the floor. She adopted a similar position facing him. After ten seconds they both started laughing.

Kelly said; "That was fun. Follow me again." She removed the Oriental mask and put on one of Marilyn Monroe. Bobby happened to have one of Clark Gable and used it to replace the other. However, this time when they faced each other, no one laughed. They tilted their heads in many directions trying to get all perspectives on the other. After a minute of this, he said "As in 'The Misfits.'" She nodded yes.

Bobby continued, "Let me go first this time." He picked a happy white clown face, with gigantic smiling red lips and a protruding tongue. She responded with a bored looking fat, ebony black lady, eyes discerning with a wide open mouth. They both immediately laughed out loud at this particular pairing, but continued to stare at each other in the masks for a minute.

He put on his Popeye mask and she quickly responded with Olive Oyl. This was more perplexing to her, but eventually she laughed with him.

Kelly said; "It doesn't matter who goes first this time. We each have only one left."

Bobby replied; "That's what you think." She didn't say anything, but didn't understand the comment, not knowing that he didn't either.

They both donned the last of today's repertoire. She put on a mask that looked like him and he put on a mask that looked like her. Both were startled and he was confused, prompting him to sadly ask; "Is the game now over?"

She said; "Of course not, stupid, we still have the numbers."

"I don't know anything about numbers."

"You don't have to."

"I don't want to blow this game."

Kelly said; "That's impossible. Look, I'm going to pick a number and then you pick one, that's all."

"Okay," he said questioningly.

She picked up a red seven made of stained wood and held it in front of her smiling anxious face with two hands. He saw that he had many to choose from. His favorite number was always eight, but that might already be overplayed and it could appear that he was trying to top her. He saw that there was another red seven, this one made of plastic.

"Come on," she said, "I'm not waiting all day."

He quickly rejected the available seven as he didn't want to imitate her and also didn't like plastic. He then saw that there was another seven identical to the one Kelly had chosen. As he didn't know anything about numbers, he thought this might be a safe choice. He didn't want to lose this game. On the other hand he thought that he had just intuitively rejected an imitation, so he certainly did not want a duplicate.

Kelly said; "Come on, already. I'm not waiting here all day."

Bobby realized he could stare at the numbers for hours and still not have a clue. He didn't know why, but his eyes seemed to be drawn time after time to a six, made of wood and stained deep purple with a light furry white fringe on the edges. He picked it up and put it in front of his face, holding it in two hands.

Kelly's eyes and mouth opened widely with exhilarated surprise, dropping her number seven to the floor. Seeing this, Bobby dropped his six, moved over to her, kissed her on her bare left foot and ...........

Music only they heard played and played and played. Someone's body must have touched something that turned on the overhead television. It was playing some black and white 60's footage of a love-in, demonstration, or both. A male voice, with electric guitar and organ accompaniment sang;

You were alone in the late fall wood.

Won't you come over to me.

Come, come.

Only you can.

There will never be another you.

Take a chance.

Try, try.

Come, come.

Don't measure me.

Lead or follow.

Allow me, allow you.

Come.

Stop time and remember.

We were together.

She, he.

Come again.

Day and night.

Lend me the moment.

Debt quickly satisfied.

Come, come, come.

I know your feelings.

I know your dreams.

I know your mind.

And you're mine.

Only.

They didn't get much time to savor the moment, as there were two loud knocks at the door. Kelly got up, no doubt hitting the same hidden television button, as the picture and sound disappeared. She walked to the door naked and saw through the peephole that it was Linda. She partially opened it, stuck her head out and whispered; "Hi."

Linda said; "Excuse me. There was no "Do not disturb" sign up." They both smiled. "Anyway, I'm telling everyone that the company is offering a free lunch in the office."

Kelly lost it and started to laugh uproariously and said; "We've already had lunch." Linda also laughed a bit, smiled genuinely at Kelly and put up her right hand to shoulder level, wiggled her fingers "Bye-bye," and continued on her mission.

Kelly shut the door and turned to Bobby still naked on the floor, saying "Let's get dressed and go."

"Already?"

"Yeah, Linda broke the mood."

He yawned. "I'd really just like to get in bed and hold you a while."

She walked to the bed, rolled down the covers and climbed under them. He quickly followed behind her putting his right arm around her waist, his right leg over both of hers. This moment was the one he always dreamed of. He wondered if she felt the same way, but didn't want to ask. She did. They drifted off to sleep for at least an hour. She rose first and said; "Come on let's get dressed and go." He groaned indicating a soft "No." She joked; "Come on. We both need more lunch." With that she grabbed one of his feet and pulled him out of bed. They both dressed.

"Ready?" she said.

"Sort of," he replied, "We've still got to pick up all these masks, numbers and boxes."

She grabbed his arm, pulled him toward the door and said; "Leave them. We don't need them anymore. Maybe somebody else can have fun with them."

They quietly drove back to the lot where Bobby's car was parked. They both knew that something would throw another curve ball at them, but for now, they were happy.
Chapter 23

William McKenna had been an insurance investigator most of his adult life. Now, at the age of 66, he was still working, out of choice and was continuing his rapid foot movements. He usually didn't get much further than others of his ilk, as his short, stocky five foot six body was clustered up top, making him require two steps to equal an average man's one. But, he relished the challenge. He spoke in machine gun bursts to the dismay of most. Some didn't like the agitated feel and some couldn't come up with a bright response at his pace. The most annoying thing, though, was that after 66 years of practice he rarely said anything wrong.

His long term wife died ten years ago, leaving him broken hearted, angry and jealous of those with the audacity to take a spouse for granted. Maybe due to his inability to slow down and focus, he never knew how much he loved her until she was gone. The resulting passion to catch spouse killers was not diminished by the fact that he was also a religious Catholic for as long as he could recall.

The screeching brakes of the local school bus roused him for the millionth time and he got up early on a still dark Monday morning. In his efficient manner over breakfast he re-reviewed the dossier on his new case.

Insured: Alan Simburg, age 60. Beneficiary: Kelly, Alan's wife, age 40. Married for five years. No children. $5,000,000 Policy fully paid up five years ago, the time of Alan and Kelly's marriage. Residence: 239 White Horse Lane, Castillo, NM. Home phone: 505/980-3215. There are no available photos. Kelly has long black hair, wears glasses, is five foot four, 120 pounds. Overview: At the time of the marriage Alan was a prominent local business owner and Kelly had no discernible assets. Police reports: No one yet charged with any crime. No suspects. In addition to local authorities, the case is also being handled by the state organized crime unit in Santa Fe, NM. The deceased is believed to have owed the mob four million dollars. The case has most of the earmarks of a professional hit. The murder happened at their residence. Kelly's alibi was that she was out aimlessly driving at the time and walking at the river. This has neither been confirmed nor refuted by evidence. Tapes of her interviews with authorities are available at the Castillo police station.

McKenna focused in on the phrase "most of the earmarks", the unconfirmed alibi and the simple fact that Mr. Simburg's demise came at a very convenient time for his younger wife, who still has a number of good years ahead. As usual, McKenna expected to take as much time as necessary to work on the case, despite his flat fee. He thought; "Sometimes the locals get clouded by knowledge of the people and sometimes the pros are just too bureaucratic. Besides, he didn't know anything he'd rather be doing."

He hastily departed his forty year residence; a mortgage-free, development, light brown aluminum sided (looks just like wood) "colonial" in almost status, Syosset, Long Island, New York and drove to the airport. He tapped his little fingers on the armrest the entirety of the trip to Albuquerque. He rented a Lincoln, as this was a deductible expense and headed out to Castillo.

He saw it as a pleasant place, but not exactly the domain of one wanting to live the high life. The flat roofs of the one and two story stucco Southwestern houses always amazed him in their seeming lack of efficiency, as they no doubt required more maintenance than the highly pitched varieties that dominate rational Syosset. He checked in at the motel now probably owned by Mrs. Simburg, but wasn't lucky enough to be admitted by the heiress to be. He walked to the nearby burger joint to see if he could stir up some conversation. He ordered coffee and took it to a table already occupied by two elderly gentlemen. He consciously slowed down his delivery of words, in an attempt to sound down homey. He smiled broadly and came close to drawling; "Mind if I join you?" He thought he also came close to biting his tongue.

The first gentleman smiled and leisurely said; "Please do. We get so few sociable strangers here. Passing through?"

McKenna seated himself and evasively replied; "More or less. I'm enjoying the pretty scenery here."

As laid back as the first the second gentleman said; "I always did, too. That's a big reason why we stayed here. Peace and quiet."

McKenna feigned surprise and in a "Gee whillickers" tone queried; "Somebody at the motel back there told me there was a murder a few months back."

First gentleman: "Yeah, shocked everyone."

Second gentleman: "I heard he owed a lot of money to the mob and couldn't pay."

McKenna: "Mob's over here?"

First gentleman: "I don't think so. He probably borrowed the money in Las Vegas or Los Angeles."

McKenna shook his head to one side and said; "So nobody's worried about a mad murderer running around here."

First gentleman: "Of course not. I've been here thirty years and I don't remember hearing about any other murder, except once when some guy shot his wife."

Second gentleman: "You know the understandable, unavoidable stuff." He made a small laugh and turned toward his friend, who did the same.

McKenna did his best to grin and hide his bristle. He said; "Being so quiet here, didn't anyone hear or see anything unusual?"

Second gentleman: "No, not really. People sometimes stop over here on their way elsewhere. There were reports of strangers at the gas station and the motel, but none of them led anywhere, they say. The cops went through that right away."

McKenna: "Is there anyone here who knows everybody's business?"

Both gentlemen laughed and simultaneously said, "Mabel."

First gentleman: "Why are you so interested in the murder? You said you were here for the scenery."

McKenna: "I should tell you the truth. I'm an insurance investigator. He was pretty heavily covered."

First gentleman: "How much?"

McKenna: "I really shouldn't say. You might call it substantial. Who's this Mabel?"

Second gentleman: "Mabel Elliot. She's the wife of one of the local cops. She has a knack for being around whenever something happens."

First gentleman: "Or says she was."

Second gentleman: "I'll tell you one thing for certain. If it wasn't for her observations, Steve wouldn't have his job."

They both laughed, as did McKenna, though he had the further thought; "Doesn't say much for the local gendarmes. Maybe I can pick up something they missed." McKenna stood to go and said; "Thanks, guys. Do you know where Mabel lives?"

First gentleman: "East Ella, first house."
Chapter 24

Overeager to meet a fellow compatriot, McKenna drove 20 miles over the speed limit to East Ella and screeched into the driveway of the first house. His short legs worked double time to get his stubby body to the front door. He rang the bell and Mabel answered expeditiously. Glad for the company, which didn't require her pursuit, she graciously said; "Good morning."

His rapid reply did not indicate any endings of sentences and sounded like; "Goo mornin' I'm William McKenn', an 'surance 'vestigator."

Mabel nervously replied; "I haven't filed any claims, but I know someone who has, somewhat creatively."

William managed to contain his excitement and clearly said; "I'm merely investigating the murder of Alan Simburg."

"You probably want my husband. He's at the police station now."

"I plan to see him a little later. But I'd like to talk with you for five minutes first. May I come in?"

"Sure." She led him to a seat in the dining room. "Can I get you anything?"

He couldn't help but take note of the views from the room. There were four floor to ceiling windows, two each on two sides of the room. One set faced the main road and provided excellent potential vehicular surveillance. The table with four chairs, on the other hand, conveyed nothing. The set could be best described as "contemporary," as it evoked elements of modernism, discount store "colonial" motifs and an efficient polyurethane glossy finish, which produced a light stain on the wood itself, with the majority sitting in protective shiny puddles above it. The breakfront, seemingly of similar origin, held plain off white cups, saucers and dishes. A few tiny, painted ceramics of overly cute cartoonish dogs and cats were interspersed, along with two other small stamped figurines of an unreal boy and girl, with eyes covering one-third of their head and perpetual smiles covering another third. The room was open to a small kitchen dominated by clear, stained, unhandled cabinets. There were no windows, with only minimal light coming in through a small ceiling skylight. None of the culinary utensils seemed out of place, perhaps because their accumulated dust suggested a lack of recent use. Overall, it was hidden, unused and unclean, though properly surface configured, by way of Transylvania.

He answered; "No, thanks. I've had a few coffees already. I'm just trying to touch base with some of the people who might have useful information. Did you see anything out of the ordinary around the time of the murder?"

With her well-practiced penchant for communicating all of her observations, whether specifically asked or not, she volunteered; "Not around the murder date. But a few months later I saw Kelly walking with a man down by the river. I thought that was a strange coincidence."

"What did he look like?"

"Average. I told my husband about it. I don't remember all the particulars, but it's in a report at the police station. They didn't seem to take it very seriously. That Kelly is always with guys. It's shameful."

In a surprised tone, McKenna asked; "So this isn't unusual behavior for her?"

"You're beginning to sound like my husband. No, it's not unusual, but it is very strange timing. She was younger than Alan and they were only married about five years."

Gathering her speculative inference McKenna asked; "Has she got a lot of male friends?"

With wide-eyed shock Mabel said; "Yes, some even live in the area."

"That was palatable with Alan?"

"I don't know, but I can't understand how. It must have been as it's been going on for a long time. But, there were no domestic violence reports that I know of."

"Did he have female friends?"

"I don't know of any. Maybe if they put Dolly Madison on hundred dollar bills. I think he was more interested in business."

Standing up, McKenna said; "Thanks very much. I'll be off to police headquarters now."

In an effort to continue the conversation she relished, Mabel said; "I just know that Kelly was involved. She hasn't got any morals. The town would be better off if she was in jail, where she belongs."

Believing that he had already obtained all the useful information available from Mabel McKenna exited. While driving he thought to himself; "If there were anything concrete to pin on Kelly, Mabel would know about it. Still, maybe Kelly has been a few steps ahead of everyone. At least until now."

Upon entering the police station, he saw Sheriff Mack alone in his office. He knocked twice and entered, unencouraged.

"Good morning, Sheriff. My name is William McKenna and I'm an insurance investigator."

"Have a seat."

"I'm investigating the Simburg murder."

"You're a little late, aren't you?"

"Well, I was hoping that if I gave you guys enough time you would find the murderer and make my job easy."

They both forced smiles.

Sheriff Mack aggressively said, "It very clearly seems to be a mob hit. The state guys who specialize in that stuff can't come up with anything more than that, either."

"Did anyone look into the guy sighted with Kelly?"

Mack momentarily drew a blank, then said; "Oh, Mabel," and laughed. "Mabel has seen Kelly with a lot of guys, including some who probably only exist in Mabel's mind."

"So your investigation of the stranger turned up nothing?"

Defensively, Mack retorted; "We did our due diligence and pursued Mabel's report, but nothing of any use turned up." Hoping to put an end to the questioning he considered impertinent, especially coming from a bogus cop, he said; "It's in the file. I guess you'd like to take a look at that."

"I would appreciate that."

The Sheriff retrieved it and carried it to an interrogation room, leading McKenna. "Take all the time you need. You know where I am if you have any questions."

McKenna sat down and spread the papers and tapes out on the desk. He listened to the interviews with Kelly and others. He wasn't impressed with the seeming nonchalance, perhaps arrogance he detected. In fact, what he saw as smart-ass contentiousness annoyed him. He read of the two bullet holes found in the ceiling, not usually consistent with a mob hit. He made copies of the contents and put them in his dossier. To further his knowledge of Kelly he decided to ask the Sheriff a few questions about her. McKenna returned the file to the Sheriff, who was seated in his office. He, unceremoniously dropped it on the desk and said; "Sheriff, if I can have a few minutes...?"

Mack, again forced a tight smile and deadpanned; "Shoot," momentarily enjoying his impromptu witticism vis-à-vis the lack of weaponry entrusted to insurance dicks.

Oblivious to, or un-amused by Mack's repartee, McKenna said; "Kelly doesn't seem to be broken hearted because of the murder, does she?"

"Ah, frankly, no. That has bothered me and some others."

"Is there a tail on her?"

"There was for about a week. The only place she went during that time was to visit a very old friend named George, who lives here in town. Her house was roped off as a crime scene and I guess she had to go somewhere. It's cold outside, if you haven't noticed."

With no interest in any sidetracks, the little bulldog continued on his pursuit and said; "Did you talk to George?"

"No. He's lived here a long time, has never been arrested for anything and he's one of the last people you'd expect to kill anyone."

"Romantic with Kelly?"

Mack snorted and said; "I really don't know or care. That's Mabel's department. Maybe years ago. I think he's just one of her friends."

"Does she have a lot of friends?"

"Not that many. There are four or five she's sometimes seen with. They all moved here in the early 1970s. They had some kind of commune for a while and when that broke up, they must have liked it here. They all have had their own places for quite a while."

"Did you grill her hard?"

"Well, you can make your own judgment on that if you listen to the tapes. I think it was pretty hard, but she handled it well. She seemed cooperative and answered all our questions. I appreciated that because she could have said nothing and gotten a lawyer to make statements for her."

"Can you tell me anything else about her?"

"Sure, but why? She's always been an unconventional free spirit, but not one likely to kill."

"Her alibi is weak. All this un-noticed driving around and walking at the river."

"I'd like to have heard a better alibi, too, but it's consistent with past behavior."

"I don't know. I'm just not completely comfortable with her. If someone killed my wife, even if I was sick of her, I think I'd be more emotional."

"Maybe she is and just doesn't want to display it. She's got a lot of business to take care of now. She's got to decide what to do with the businesses Simburg owned; whether to keep them open, how to pay the employees, how to get some control of the situation, whether to sell them, on and on."

"You're probably right, but my bosses are about to pay out five million dollars and they don't want me to miss touching all the bases."

"I know what you mean. I wish I had more leads, as whoever runs against me in the next election will undoubtedly try to make hay on the unsolved murder during my watch."

"Good luck on that one. I'd still like to speak with Kelly myself. Do you think it would be all right if I just drove out there?"

"It's probably all right. Like I said, she's been as cooperative as we have required so far."

"Thanks." McKenna left and drove back to the motel. He sat and perused all his papers. Kelly seemed to him a competent, composed opponent. Though it didn't appear to be an easy task, if he could find some evidence implicating her his company could, at least, delay payment of the claim, until everything was decided in court. It didn't seem likely that she would confess, but, if found guilty his employers would be off the hook and quite happy with him. In addition, McKenna just plain didn't like her. She seemed to be everything he hated.
Chapter 25

McKenna really didn't know what approach he was looking for. Catching her in a contradiction would be immensely useful, but there wasn't much to contradict. He could get aggressive and try to scare her, but that had already been done. He could buddy up to her, saying he was just finishing off the details of his job and hope she dropped her guard and slipped with something. He could talk about their shared Irish heritage, but she might not relate. He decided not to go to White Horse Lane until he had some plan. He went walking around town the rest of the day. He was in no rush. He wanted to take his best shot, gun or not.

McKenna walked to the local saloon and sat at the bar.

"What can I get ya?"

"A Jack Daniels and soda."

"Here you go. That's $2.50."

McKenna put a twenty dollar bill on the bar. "Can I ask you a few questions?"

"You can ask. I don't know very much about anything except booze."

McKenna reached into his pocket and put four more twenties on the bar. "Do you know Kelly Simburg?"

"Who are you?"

McKenna pulled out some ID and said, "I'm an insurance investigator."

"I told you that I don't know much of anything. I don't think she's a big drinker."

"Maybe you've heard other people talking about her."

"No one here really knows her very well. She's got a small circle of friends who don't seem to be drinkers either. There are people who have lived here ten years and have never met her. She's a bit of a recluse."

"Did they know her husband?"

"Oh, yeah, everybody knew him, or about him. He owned a lot of stuff around here and that a few years ago he married this younger woman, who didn't seem at all like him. Maybe opposites attract, who can say for sure?"

"Big wedding?"

"No. I heard she didn't want one."

"You know that?"

"Not for sure, just heard some bullshit. It's hard for anyone to know anything about her. She's rich, but doesn't dress like it. She does condescend to a Mercedes. She stays to herself or hangs with a few friends who are just like her, but are not rich. She doesn't mingle. You know what I mean?"

McKenna pulled out another two twenties, holding them in his hand. "I don't know what to ask. Is there anything else you know that might help me?"

"I'd like the money, but I think I've said everything I know or heard already."

McKenna put the two twenties on the bar, said "Thanks anyway," and got up and left. He thought; "This is going to be difficult." He aimlessly walked.

He watched people he considered lackadaisical going about their daily routines. Some were shopping. Some walked dogs. Some idly chatted. McKenna didn't think that they probably had much knowledge of murder, business or insurance, other than what they saw in television's fantasy distillations. They looked like they enjoyed simple lives without the big city rush. Boring useless assholes. Everyone seemed to know everyone else somewhat. But hardly anyone knew Kelly. He went back to the motel, re-reviewed his papers, which led him nowhere. He, impatiently, decided to go see Kelly and just wing it. Surely he could outwit anyone who had spent their life here.

When he rang the doorbell, he heard loud music being played and for an instant caught a glimpse of a long haired girl who was either dancing or jumping around. The music stopped and Kelly opened the door, somewhat annoyed.

She glowered and sarcastically said; "May I help you?"

"Yes. I'm William McKenna and I was sent her to investigate your insurance claim."

Her countenance immediately changed to one of cooperation. She graciously said; "Well, c'mon in. The police, however, already know everything I do and hopefully more. Perhaps you should read their reports."

"I already have. I'd just like to chat with you a few minutes and take a general look around, if that's all right."

"Oh, sure, sure. My apologies. I was just hoping for a day to myself. It's been difficult. While I'm supposed to be grieving, business keeps coming at me from all directions."

McKenna raised his eyebrows and repeated; "Supposed to be grieving?"

She immediately saw her mistake and thought that it was time to stop being kindly apologetic for her less than warm opening and focus fully on disciplined vague retorts called for in the situation. This guy may be tricky, though she didn't consider it overly bright for him to advertise his desire for contradiction so soon in the conversation. She was thankful that the little one was so overzealous, that he couldn't resist being so upfront, as it reminded her of her own need to be "professional." She chided herself for the lapse. She looked at him coldly, though properly and effusively said; "There's a grieving process everyone in my circumstances experiences. However, that's best done in privacy and I've had a minimum of that. Sometimes I just want to blast music and try to forget everything for a while."

"Yes, I understand. I've seen quite a number of people in similar situations. Well, I'll do my best to be out of here quickly. Perhaps you can give me a tour of the house."

Kelly led McKenna around, both silent, excepting small, innocuous, polite commentary regarding the various rooms' features and hazards. They then entered the library.

He said; "This is where it happened."

Kelly couldn't detect whether that was a question or silly re-statement of well-known fact, but found it expedient to merely say "Yes," to hold up her end of the conversation. She wondered if McKenna was so poorly prepared that he really didn't know. Bobby had told her that most insurance investigators weren't very bright, but maybe this one is an exception. At any rate it wasn't wise to relax.

He spent some time there, looking at books, getting on his hands and knees around the few pieces of furniture, trying to look professional, but having no clue as to what he was looking for.

He stood up and questioned; "Do you spend a lot of time in here?"

"Yes, I read in here. My stereo is here, too."

"Have you changed anything since the murder?"

"Not anything of substance. I've probably moved a few books around and of course I've cleaned up some."

"Do you plan on staying here?"

"That's one of those decisions I haven't gotten to yet. So many things here remind me of Alan, I think I'll move eventually."

"You miss him?"

"Sure, what kind of question is that?"

"Maybe too pushy. My apologies. The police reports did indicate that your marriage was, how can I say?.... Unusual."

"What is usual?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe I like hearing stories about childhood sweethearts who couldn't stand to be apart."

"Well, you should know that we met later in life. He provided a good income and I took care of everything else. Pretty traditional, I'd say."

"Is that all there was to it?"

"Of course not. How can I explain the depth of feeling in a marriage in a few sentences? It was there. Are you sure you're an insurance investigator and not a marriage counselor?"

McKenna didn't know what to say, so he chose to ignore the question. "There were no reports of forced entry. How do you think the killer got in?"

"I don't know."

"Was it usual for Alan to receive unannounced guests?"

"Very, mostly people he had business relationships with."

McKenna walked into the adjoining kitchen, followed by Kelly. "You said that you got home about 8:30PM that night, is that correct?"

"I really don't remember any more. I'd have to refer you to the police reports."

"You can't remember something as significant as that?"

"No. At this point, all that's significant to me is that I came home somewhere about that time, found the body and called 911. Do you think it's a fond enough memory for me, that I want to dwell on it the rest of my life? Am I supposed to be thinking, 'If only I'd gotten home earlier,' and all that useless crap?" She managed to cry a bit, not for Alan, but for the fact that she realized she was now dealing, not only with an attack dog, but one who loved his job and wasn't the least bit embarrassed to be redundant and stupid.

"My compliments on your efficiency to date," he said, ignoring the tears.

They looked at each other and both had the same thought, "I don't like or respect you one little bit."

"Was this a first marriage for both of you?"

"Yes."

"You were 35 at the time. Did you have many friends prior to that?"

"I resent the question and question its relevance."

Again McKenna ignored her and asked; "Are some of those friends still living in Castillo?"

Kelly said very sternly and slowly, "It's well known around here that I have a small number of close friends and have had them for a long time. Are you playing marriage counselor again?"

McKenna bristled, fully realizing that Kelly was not one to give him anything useful and that he had already put her on notice that theirs was to be a contentious relationship. However, he also realized that he needed something not yet found and had no idea how to locate it.

"I appreciate your time, Ms. Simburg. If I have to speak to you again, I'll call ahead for an appointment. I wouldn't want to interrupt your dance routine again."

They glanced at each other for a second. He silently turned and let himself out of the house. Kelly followed him and said; "Go lightly on the moonlighting job. It could kill someone your age." McKenna paid small heed to the implied threat. He thought; "Even if she is a killer she's not dumb enough bother me. It would be just too obvious." He drove back to the motel to think and turn in. He wished he knew where to go from here.

Kelly had nothing to celebrate, so she didn't go to George's. She was pissed and scared. She was now in no mood to resume dancing. She saw more use in pouring herself a double Jack Daniels. She thought; "Didn't Bobby tell me that insurance investigators are cursory? I think he said that because they never caught him, but what about me? I wish I had some old B movie about the subject, to help me formulate my own plan of defense." She drank and refilled until she fell into a fitful sleep.
Chapter 26

Kelly woke in an hour, but she was still not inclined to imbibe in the revelry of music. Despite pouring herself another drink, which was not her forte, she thought that she needed to clearly think for a while and thought she had an assistant somewhere in the bottle. Her reverie commenced; "What could she be certain of? She would definitely be seeing McKenna again. Likely next time he'll be better prepared. Outside of those two relatively safe bets, there were only possibilities, each with their own complicated decision tree. What would be his next approach? If he actually had one, he'd probably have used it today. She was frustrated. She couldn't plan. If he didn't yet know his next approach, how could she counter it?" Yet her gut told her that there would be a more choreographed next act. She regretted having to encounter a fanatical zealot on some sort of mission. Why couldn't she have gotten the usual perfunctory performer, whose main concern was appearing to do his duty by collecting papers and a check, then going home. Fucking idiot ought to try getting a life. His own, not hers. On second thought the pathetic midget was too old for that. Fuck. She lay down on the couch and closed her eyes, hoping to see a vision in the dark. She fell into a dreamless sleep, holding her pillow and wishing that Bobby was there.

McKenna woke up the next morning only thinking of his hunger, for "justice" and sustenance. He went out, got a huge, greasy fast-food breakfast, brought it back to the motel and shoveled it in. Mostly in was a better description as the lower half of his reddish face also got its share. Unable to break concentration from his mission and mouth he watched local television news, hoping some idea would pop out of the blue. It was a shame that it was still the morning, as programming had not yet commenced airing his favorite show, "Law and Order." His hero, McCoy and his strained, righteous, ready-to-explode face was at rest, while the celluloid villains and villainesses performed their nefarious deeds unmolested. A commercial came on which got his attention. The audio said; "Eliminate the possibility of disease. Have sex without contact. Call....." He thought the idea had pragmatic merit in an era of AIDS, but the Catholic side of him had qualms he could not define. The thought of sex or near-sex made Kelly annoy him even more than before. This privileged girl did whatever she wanted all her life, while he had to spend so much of his youth on the road working, being away from his now beloved dead wife for weeks on end. He did his best not to think of Kelly, in that regard, specifically, as that would just keep him thinking about resentments rather than useful tactics. He watched a New Mexico news show. There were two spousal murders in Albuquerque last night, very sloppily done, probably in the throes of passion. Police already had the suspects in custody and had possession of their guns. To him, this was as things should be; one spouse on their way six feet under and the other facing a long miserable life. No messy complications.

He eventually got a vague idea. He thought that so far Kelly had been rather composed, not feeling very challenged. He didn't know that she was now on full alert. How cool would she be if he could frighten her somehow? It would take a very believable scare, but what?

About noon he drove to Santa Fe to see the state cops. When he arrived he saw Detective Daugherty in his office. He knocked gently twice and went in. Daugherty rose from his seat and said, "And you are?"

"I'm William McKenna, insurance investigator on the Simburg case."

Daugherty really didn't remember the case precisely as there had been a few others since. He paused a while before saying; "Oh, yes, yes. The businessman who owed money to the mob."

Surprised at the response, McKenna gruffly and sarcastically said; "Yeah, I'm just interested in a few more details. Would it be better if I came back at some other time?"

Daugherty forced a tight lipped smile and said; "It probably would be, but the way things are going, I probably won't be any better prepared then. Let me just go get the file. Have a seat."

Daugherty left momentarily, while McKenna was more than a bit appalled at the level of attention being given to an open murder case. Daugherty brought back the file, took a seat near McKenna and they read it concurrently. Honestly and in an effort to change the opinion Daugherty surmised McKenna had, he said; "I remember it more now. This is the one with the ceiling bullet holes. This has been forwarded to the Feds. There's not a lot of sense in investigating around here. Most of the hit men live back East and the Feds handle the cases out of their Organized Crime Division."

"Didn't the sighting of Kelly with some stranger bother you?"

Daugherty didn't know of the event, as it was handled entirely by the local cops. They had not talked to State about it, as it led nowhere. However, Daugherty was embarrassed at not immediately recalling something that, for all he knew, might have been part of the investigation. He replied; "Only a little." He tried to change the subject back to his strong point and added; "We did confirm with our sources that Simburg was not paying the loans he got from the mob."

Realizing that he probably was more familiar with the case than Daugherty, McKenna said; "I'd really like to find some avenue I could pursue with Kelly. I've already spoken to her about everything I could think of and she handled it, shall I say, professionally."

"There's no law against being competent yet."

"True, true. But if I can come up with some plan, can I count on your cooperation?"

"Probably, it depends on the particulars. We would like to resolve the matter, too."

McKenna nodded at him, left, drove back to the motel and pondered the situation. The loose ends in the case were Mabel's sighting of Kelly with an unknown male, her vague remembrance of an out of state car parked next to Kelly's at the river, the extraneous bullet holes and Kelly's weak alibi. He wondered what might have been missed and was inflamed, as it was probably now too late to discover anything new and he would just love to see the look on Kelly's smart-ass face, if he could get the goods on her.

He again reviewed the facts of the case, frustrated that this was all he had to work with. He was forced to conclude that, given, the mob debts, this was very likely a professional hit. That irked him, because it just seemed too simple and tidy. However, it was very unlikely that he would be able to come up with any more useful information. So he would have to work with what he had currently available. Kelly seemed too controlled and smart to make any mistakes now. As much as he would like to harass her some more, she didn't have to allow him entry without the company of local police. He could delay payment of the claim, on the guise that he needed more time to conduct a thorough investigation. But, he didn't really have any investigative plans and he didn't want to sit in a Castillo motel, twiddling his thumbs, when he could be elsewhere catching other murderers. He could come up with only one hope. He borrowed and twisted a theme he had seen in a 40's noir movie. He would have to show that Kelly knew the hit man and he hoped that he was the guy Kelly was spotted walking with at the river. The extraneous bullet holes and Kelly's poor alibi led him nowhere.

He got up and drove to the police station. Sheriff Mack was still there.

"Sheriff, I've got one more idea I'd like to try."

"Let's hear it."

"When the strange car was reported by Mabel, she said it had yellow plates."

"So?"

"So I'm told most of the hit men live back East. New Jersey has yellow plates. How about we call Kelly in here and tell her that the probable murderer has been arrested in Jersey and that he implicated her. In fact, he said that she was the murderess. We say that we don't believe that she did it and if she cooperates, any charges against her will be dropped in exchange for testimony against him."

"What good would that do you? If Kelly is cleared and the murderer prosecuted, your company is still out the money."

"Not entirely true. If she signs something saying that she had involvement, which will not be prosecuted, the company will not have to pay. Besides, this might upset her so much that she could say or do something stupid."

Sheriff Mack said; "This is probably illegal. Can you do it without my involvement?"

"No, I need you there to display the possibility of immediate arrest. If I do it alone, she knows I can't arrest her or do anything."

Sheriff Mack reflected for a few seconds and then said; "All right. We'll have the tapes going on this one. It would be great for me if the murderer is caught. My opponent in the next election won't have any issues to talk about. But, what if she really doesn't know the hit man?"

"Then we'll have wasted an hour. If she doesn't know him, then that's all she'll probably say. I'll make a fake phone call to my supposed source, if necessary and say I made a mistake and that will be the end of that. I'd just love to see her reaction to the thought that her friend turned on her though. Go along with me for this last effort. I'll go back home and file my report right after."

Mack said; "It's a deal. You follow your own plan, ask her whatever you want and I'll stay as quiet as possible." He called Kelly and requested that she come to the police station tomorrow at 10:00AM. She agreed.

Kelly thought about what might happen the following day. "Somebody's got to have a new wrinkle on the murder. So, why do they have to talk to me? I guess I'm the wrinkle by way of little head McKenna. Maybe they'll insist that I'm involved, but what could be new to say. I can just politely repeat myself. Let's hope this is the end." She didn't drink or smoke the rest of the day, wanting to be as clear headed as possible for the 'final showdown.'" She felt alone. There was no possible help available. It was too complicated to involve George. He could only be a distraction. She called out Bobby and imagined that she heard him say, "Kelly, you can do anything. I wish I could be there. I love you." She was sorry that she had ever married Alan and immediately realized that if she hadn't, she never would have met Bobby. So, seeking security led her to love with horrendous complications. The whole thing was just too weird to think about now. She decided to listen to her favorite artist, Patti Smith, only today at her most defiant. She started with "Gloria" and danced the rest of the day until exhausted. She either collapsed or slept.
Chapter 27

Kelly woke up early and was in the mood for the inevitable showdown. She was on full alert as she went through her morning routine, heating her eggs and coffee and somehow managed not to drop them on the floor, as she distractedly paid them little attention. There would be plenty of time for many delectable breakfasts if she could handle one more onslaught. She angrily thought; "All this fucking shit because the stupid bastard I married couldn't see the best deal of his life when it was right in front of his face. No wonder the asshole fucked up the businesses." She took her light blue Mercedes to the police station at 9:45AM. It felt flaming red to her, as it pierced the dismal, overcast winter air. When she walked in, she saw that Mack and McKenna were already seated in the Sheriff's office, with the door open. She thought; "Fucking McKenna. No surprise." Without knocking she walked in, said a businesslike, "Good morning," aimed at Mack, not bothering to pay any respect to the tiny insurance dick. She sat as far from McKenna as she could. She didn't want anything to rub off on her.

Sheriff Mack immediately noticed her mood and responded in kind, saying; "Thank you for coming. We don't intend to go through the usual pleasantries today. We'd like to get right to the point and wrap this matter up once and for all. With that, I'd like to turn over the floor to Mr. McKenna."

McKenna proudly said; "Your killer boyfriend has been detained in New Jersey. The Feds have the goods on him and he says you did it."

Kelly was shocked, to say the least, at the abruptness and considered the possible truth of the statement. She tactically started crying, in an attempt to buy some time. A million thoughts flew through her head simultaneously. She had been screwed around by guys before, but never this badly and she had hoped and believed that Bobby was the exception. He had really seemed to love her. She played as if she had struggled to regain the composure she never lost and said; "What kind of goods?"

McKenna responded to her in a manner that had now become customary. He ignored her question and gruffly said; "We don't intend to play your word games all day. If you don't get truthful with us right now, you're going to be charged with murder."

Kelly looked at McKenna for the first time, disgustedly threw her arms out to the side and dismissively rattled off; "I've been truthful all along."

Unfazed McKenna continued to execute his plan and feigning boredom, said; "I told you that we don't intend to play. Either you start telling us what you know, or your next problem will be bail." He got up from his chair, picked up handcuffs from the Sheriff's desk and turned to her.

Kelly quickly assessed the situation. "Maybe they really didn't catch Bobby. Maybe they did. If they did catch him, I can't believe he would implicate me. But I've been badly surprised before. I want to be with Bobby. The only way that's possible is to trust him fully. If you can't trust someone fully, the relationship isn't worth having anyway. And if Bobby did, indeed turn on me, another shock to the old system. Fuck it, maybe I deserve it anyway. I am a murderess. Either way, I want to end this bland existence and bullshit with fanatical assholes."

McKenna yelled; "Now, Kelly, or jail."

Kelly decided she would bet everything on trusting Bobby. She turned to Mack and resolutely said; "Sheriff, am I about to be arrested?"

Sheriff Mack played his part and responded; "Depends on what you say."

Kelly shed angry tears, turned to McKenna and yelled; "Fuck you all. I don't say anything one way or another."

McKenna came toward her with the handcuffs in hand and said, "Last chance, you cold bitch."

Kelly spit in his direction and it landed on one of his shoes. She defiantly held up her head, looked again straight at his tiny red face, snorted derisively and plainly said; "You have to blame the victim, don't you, you miserable little bastard?" She extended her arms in front of her and sneered; "Cuff me if you've got the balls, you little un-gunned wannabe dick."

McKenna realized his shock tactic wasn't working, so he decided to switch over to a softer approach. He cajoled; "This guy turned on you. We don't want you. We want him. All you have to do is testify that he did it and you're home free. Look, we're really on your side, whether you know it or not. This guy has done many hits and we want him where he belongs."

Kelly screamed; "I want him where he belongs, too, but I don't know him, jackass. Can't you get that through your thick useless head?"

McKenna, in desperation, said; "People like you are not even human. Don't you have any feelings or morality?"

Sensing his back-off and feeling triumphant, she again extended her arms and said; "Cuff me, faggot ass!"

McKenna raised his right arm and faked striking her.

Sheriff Mack saw that this was becoming unproductive and likely illegal. He stood up and interrupted the interchange, by forcefully saying; "That's enough, McKenna. You're getting ridiculous now. In fact, you're the one that's breaking the moral law, if not the written one and I'm a witness to that. This interview is over and, McKenna, get the hell out of here right now." He walked briskly over to McKenna and yanked the handcuffs out of his hands. He said; "Don't come back here without a court order, you pathetic old fart."

Both Kelly and McKenna started to leave. The Sheriff grabbed her hand and, asked Kelly to "Please stay." Not wanting to be near her nemesis she found it convenient to do as requested. They both watched McKenna walk out in a huff.

Mack turned to her and kindly said; "I'm sorry, Kelly, please believe that. I never should have let him act that way. He must have some kind of problem. No one has been detained in New Jersey or any other place. You're free to go any time you like. Would you like to stay a few minutes until you can get composed?"

"Yes," she said, hoping that McKenna would use the time to clear out. She sat back down with her eyes on the floor.

Sheriff Mack left the office for about ten minutes, walking outside to smoke a cigarette. He was feeling guilty about allowing McKenna to do what he did. He probably wouldn't have if he were not running for re-election soon, but he didn't consider that a valid excuse. When he came back in he went to the file cabinets and retrieved the Simburg folder. By the time he returned to his office, Kelly was standing ready to leave.

Mack touched her forearm and said; "Sorry I let it get out of hand. Some people seem to think that the unconventional don't have rights. Nothing like that will ever happen again." He put the folder down on his desk where she could clearly see it, picked up a rubber stamp, dipped it in ink and put it to the cover of the file five times. It said "CASE CLOSED, CASE CLOSED, CASE CLOSED, CASE CLOSED and CASE CLOSED".

Kelly drove home. The morning had turned sunny and it looked to her like the temperature could reach 60 degrees. She didn't think about celebrating with George, however. She was glad that the worst was probably over and that she was victorious, but she had some unsettled feelings she couldn't quite explain, probably a wad of eternal unanswerable questions. She was mentally exhausted and collapsed in a heap on the couch, in front of a television chirping cheery rhetoric about some new exercise machine, now particularly, completely devoid of relevance.

Her thoughts became more precise as she started to forget the boring details of her extravaganza and substituted a vague reverie of success. Words disappeared and were replaced by colors; yellows, reds, greens, blues, maybe a rainbow. She contentedly drowsed about an hour.

When she returned to full consciousness, she thought that she had held up her end well and was proud of herself. The television was now blaring "The Price is Right," and she laughed out loud. She was unable to stop and she was unable to reason why.
Chapter 28

Bobby left his Amarillo motel before sunrise on February fifteenth, speeding to Castillo. As when he first drove this route to the town the sun was rising over the mountains behind him and this time seemed to be reflecting off his rear view mirror, partially blinding him as to what was behind. He didn't care. The flat land clearly showed signs of new green growth, though it was not yet tall enough for Bobby to guess what the sprouts would eventually become. He passed over the spot where the two perfectly straight, two-way roads made a cross. He thought; "Some things never change." He was pleasantly surprised to see that the gully had some water in it this time and two little boys were already there. They were too excited about a fish one had on a hook to notice his solitary car in the stillness. He didn't try to take any more glances at the mountains behind him, but took a hard, surveying look at the gigantic, jagged ones ahead. He knew that this time he was staying, no matter what. Before he left Jersey City he gave his landlord notice that he was vacating his apartment and made arrangements with someone to have all his stuff stored in a warehouse. There was no possibility of turning back in his mind.

He drove through the quiet, sleepy town, just beginning to show signs of life, as he saw some store owners or employees opening up. He continued on to Romero Road, where he parked and noticed that the car clock said 7:45AM. He didn't want to wait in the car, so he decided to take an early walk. He couldn't see anyone there and it was an unusually warm winter morning, at least 40 degrees already, with a cloudless sky, a bright sun and no wind. Sometimes spring sprung early in Castillo.

He walked to their usual meeting spot, hidden from the rest of the world, near the river, enjoying the warmth of the sun getting higher and higher over the mountain. Its brilliance reflected off the water, doubling the effect. It seemed to make a wide yellow line crossing the river and came directly at him. Because of the rising heat he didn't feel compelled to keep moving and sat on the edge of a three foot drop off in the land, perhaps, where once a wider river flowed. He lit a joint and was completely relaxed.

Strange thoughts started passing through his undisturbed mind. He thought about Kelly and the belief that some people would consider them hedonistic. But to him that was a puritan loser's game of unnecessary sacrifice. When you're a teenager you're considered too young and should be focusing on school. When you're a young adult you're supposed to be concerned with making money and taking care of the kids. When you're old, you're just too old. The only time any kind of hedonism is acceptable, is for the first month after marriage. This struck him as so absurdly a loser's game; he started laughing out loud right there. He quickly looked around to see if he had any company.

When he saw that the coast was still clear, he again slipped into reverie. Scientists say they can prove that time bends. It seemed obvious to him that given enough space, anything that bends will eventually form a circle. Maybe the scientists have only, so far, detected part of time. He wondered why no one else was here on such a warm, beautiful winter day. It's Sunday. He surmised that all the good people were at church or yard sales. He made a mental note to ask Kelly if the church had yet cornered the market on yard sales here, as was old news back east. There they had apparently discovered that the leasing of parking lot space to vendors could be quite lucrative, not to mention tax free. All the nice, smiling vultures waiting after the end of service warms further the heart of the lonely revved up by the Reverend. Now, left to their own long day, wouldn't it be nice to bring home that big eyed picture of an animal and chat a bit before retiring to obscurity, thinking that their god sees them as a good, suffering person. Somebody once said that nobody ever lost a nickel underestimating the intelligence of the American public and the church adopted the phrase, making it a sin not to believe and included it in the Acts of Paul, posthumously. Bobby really didn't care other than obtaining amusement in times of wait. How many people had this glorious institution been responsible for killing? It's an improvement that now their covert activities were only concerned with taking the people's money. He again couldn't help laughing.

He realized that he had been there for a while without his desired company. He decided to walk back to the car to check the time. His was still the only one parked there. He turned on the engine, to see that the clock now read 9:08AM. His dreamy, good mood got its first dent of the day. He again left the car, looking around for Kelly. There was always the possibility that she walked here and they could have missed each other.

He slowly walked back to the river meeting spot. Nervously, he paced, thinking of all the bad things that could have happened. In the stillness, he could hear the river, brushing against the shore, eating its way into the land. Then he heard a noise, a rustling in the brush and he saw her. The sun illuminated her black hair, giving it the appearance of a fuzzy circle around her head.

She saw him and each walked quickly in the others direction. They were both so out of control that they collided when they embraced. Her glasses fell to the ground, not breaking. She pulled away, picked them up and put them into her jacket pocket.

"You're late," Bobby said in exasperation.

Kelly made a small laugh and flatly said; "I'm close. If you haven't noticed, I don't wear a watch either."

He shut his eyes, sighed and put his arms around her again. After a few seconds, he broke away and said; "What do you do when an irresistible force meets an unmovable object?"

She blinked her eyes a few times and then said; "Silly, that's easy. Of course, you redefine words."

"God, I've missed you, Kelly."

"I miss you too, honey boy, but some of my time was quite occupied. I got the scare of my life."

Bobby's eyes widened with concern and said; "What happened? Are you all right?"

She said; "Yeah, I'm fine now." She recounted her last visit to police headquarters in the company of McKenna.

He sympathized, saying; "That was really nasty. You did so great, you can probably handle anything." He held her around the waist and they hugged for a few seconds, kissed, then again broke apart. Bobby looked at her, felt her ordeal and seriously said; "Maybe I can come out of retirement for one more hit."

Kelly's expressive face showed interest, though she remained silent.

He said; "A McKenna torture job."

With glee she said; "Let's burn the fuck."

He smiled and replied; "Ice doesn't ignite well. We'll have to scald him."

She kissed him passionately. He looked directly into her eyes, resolutely shook his head from side to side and said; "Don't ever even consider the possibility that I would hurt you in any way. I should have been with you. From now on you can always count on me. I'm staying forever this time."

While they embraced she lowly mused; "It would be different this time though."

Bobby wasn't sure of her frame of reference and looked at her questioningly.

Kelly said; "I'm talking about McKenna. We'll be killers."

Unfazed, Bobby said; "Maybe that's the way to join the human race. They all do it. I'd just love to see the look on his face, while he endures protracted, intense suffering and he knows exactly why, with you laughing and spitting on him."

They again kissed and held each other. She facetiously said; "Fantastic. If anyone bothers us we'll just kill them."

Bobby caught her inflection, made a silly smile, wrinkled his forehead and rolled his widely opened eyes at her.

She laughed and wondered out loud; "What next? I got the insurance check. We're rich; we can do whatever we want."

He said; "Maybe we'll be the Nick and Nora Charles of our generation."

"Who were they?"

"They were a married couple in five movies made in the 1930's. They knew gangsters and other interesting people. Got high regularly."

She didn't know of them, so she looked at him sternly and repeated; "Whatever we want, right?"

"Pretty much. The mob might still come looking for you to get the money back."

Her voice rose; "For me?"

"Maybe. Maybe they'll come looking for me, too. They have ways of finding out about things like insurance money."

"How do you know?"

"I really don't. I probably saw it in some old B movie."

Kelly again spoke in a higher than normal pitch; "What are you trying to do to me? I was right in the first place. You are some kind of nut. First, you make me an accessory to murder, then a murderer and now a mob target. What next?"

He calmly replied; "The ill-tempered wife of a nut. You should be glad. We're not that easy to find. And point of order; I did not make you an accessory to murder, a murderer or a mob target. I did make you an accessory, but not to murder, to an execution. You chose to become an executioner and you may or may not be a mob target, regardless of me. Maybe, if we deign to be human, we'll become murderers someday."

"If you had just done your job I wouldn't have gotten involved at all, no matter how you interpret it."

"If I had just done my job, the mob might come looking for you anyway."

She lapsed into thought, but was obviously upset, frustrated.

Bobby held her and said; "Kelly, the only thing I'm sure of is that I love you. I never expected to meet another girl so wonderful."

"I'm not so sure that I love you. I'm completely confused."

"Please trust me, Kelly. I don't have any perfect answers that always work in this world."

"What world are you in?"

"The same one you are. Look, you're forcing me to become a poet to answer you. I see it this way. We're standing here with a mountain across the river. People have probably already crossed and climbed it. But they didn't leave me a map, unless you happen to have one."

He paused. She was silent.

Bobby continued; "Even if we get up the mountain, there may be another more difficult one behind it. I know neither of us can do it alone. We both also know that this side doesn't have any prizes worth the effort, so what's to lose?"

She laughed, "Where do you get all that crap?"

"I really don't know. I never talked this way until I met you. It's probably your fault."

He reached out his arms to her, just as she was doing the same. They held each other. Both simultaneously said; "I do love you." A warm, gentle breeze come out of the south, ending the stillness.

After a minute, she broke away and queried, "What do you think we'll be doing when we get to the other side of the first mountain?"

Bobby looked around for a few seconds, turned back to Kelly, smiled and with a hint of tentativeness, said; "We'll lock hands and then we'll watch the day orbs rise from the depths of the sea bed."

Kelly smiled, looked into his eyes and moaned; "Oh, shut up."

An operetta played.

Definitely Not the End
