Ken Douglas - Dead Ringer

“I guess he must be a handful.”

“Damn bird attacks me every time I feed him.” Fred was a yellow-naped Amazon, twenty years old, a loquacious talker and at times meaner than a Rottweiler with a hot poker stuck up its ass.

“Yeah, I can see why you’d wanna get rid of him.”

“How long you been sitting here sipping those?” He nodded toward the drink.

“Too long.”

Gordon turned to the DJ.

“Hey, Brian, you got the Rolling Stones handy? A fast one, ‘Start Me Up.’ Something like that?”

“Got the one you want.” Brian was a six foot five weightlifter. When he wasn’t doing the music, he was the bouncer. He put on the song Gordon requested.

“Come on.” Gordon pulled her from the barstool to the dance floor and she started to work up a sweat.

Two hours later they were still dancing, only now to Elvis singing the slow one Maggie loved the best, ‘Love Me Tender.’

Several hours and several cups of coffee later and the woman was still in the bar. What was she doing, drinking the place dry?

“You gonna be okay here, Virge, because I gotta go over there and do my job.”

“I think so,” Virgil said. He looked alright now and Horace felt a little better about leaving him.

“Just remember, don’t leave till I come back.”

“I won’t.” Then, “Can I have some more pie?”

“Sure.” Horace motioned for the waitress, then eased out of the booth.

The woman had been over there for ages. All of a sudden his ass puckered up. He hadn’t thought about why she’d been shopping so far from home. Could the police have been following him? Could the meeting in the store have been a setup? All of a sudden he didn’t want to go into that bar. But he wasn’t a coward. Besides, it’d be dark. If there were cops there, he’d see them first and slide right on out, slicker than rat piss.

He jaywalked across the street, turned toward an afternoon breeze, a slipstream of cool air on this miserable hot day. Ma would say it was a good sign. Horace sighed, Ma was nuts.

He stepped into the bar and saw the woman straight away, dancing with some guy. They were the only couple on the dance floor. She had her head on his shoulder. Her eyes were closed. It looked like she was at peace, in love. Striker was supposed to know everything about her, how come he didn’t know she had a boyfriend?

He passed through the crowd and took a seat at the end of the bar, careful to keep the mingling people between himself and her, in case she opened her eyes. He didn’t think she’d recognized him in the Safeway, probably because she’d been concentrating on Virgil, but his brother wasn’t with him now and he didn’t want to take any chances.

“You come in here often?” A girl’s voice.

“What?” Horace turned to the woman on the stool next to him. She looked like a hippy from the ’60s. She had waist length hair, parted in the center and she was wearing a kind of flower power skirt made out of that thin Indian tapestry material.

“I said, do you come in here often?” She had a voice like music.

“No, first time,” Horace said.

“I’m Sadie.” She had a boyish figure, small tits, but lips like a sexy model. Her mouth was all Os when she talked.

“Nice to meet you, Sadie, I’m Horace.”

“That’s your name, Horace? Really?” she said.

“Yeah.”

“I like it. It rhymes with romance. You look romantic.”

“It doesn’t, you know, rhyme with romance,” Horace said.

“It could if you wanted.” She leaned into him, graced him with the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen, a cross between an O and a pout. She was the hottest thing that had ever come on to him in all his forty-four years.

“I’ve been romantic,” he said.

“I bet you have. I saw you watching them dance. Do you?”

“What, dance?”

“Yeah.”

“I do, but not now.”

“Why not?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

“I’m working.”

“At what?”

“I’m a private detective. I’m watching the couple on the dance floor. They’re married, but not to each other.”

“Oh.” Then, “If you took me out there you could watch up close.”

Horace thought about that for a second, leaned closer to her. “I’m wearing a shoulder holster. I wouldn’t want it to frighten you.”

“Why would it do that?”

“If we danced and you felt it against your, you know, your chest.”

“Come on.” She hopped off the barstool, took his hand and pulled him along as she wound her way through the crowd.

Horace sighed, felt a surge of relief when another couple followed. The woman was still slow dancing with the older guy, still had her eyes closed. Horace turned away from her as Sadie wrapped her arms around his neck. He put his hands around her waist.

“I feel it,” she whispered into his ear, “your gun, up against my, ah, chest.”

“Look,” Horace whispered back, “I might have to leave quick like. You know, if they go. I gotta follow them.”

“I know,” she said.

“I wouldn’t want you to think I was running out on you. I’m working, it’s my job.”

“You could call me when you finish. Sadie Sanders, I’m in the book.”

“It might not be tonight, tomorrow okay?”

“When you can. It’s okay.” She rested her head on his shoulder.

The DJ played another slow song and another after that. Horace had trouble keeping an eye on the woman as more couples took to the dance floor. Soon most of the bar was dancing and he was tempted to forget her and concentrate on Sadie. But then he remembered Virgil across the street. He had to be getting plenty worried by now.

“Do you believe in fate, Horace?” Sadie whispered.

“Yeah,” Horace said.

“I think there might be something for you and me. Maybe not right away, but I think we’re destined for a relationship.” She pulled him in close. He felt the heat of her and it caused him to shiver. “You don’t have be afraid,” she said.

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“Maybe a little.”

Nothing like this had ever happened to him before. Sure he’d had beautiful women in his time, but he’d always had to work at it and in the end they’d always left. For a time, he blamed it on his family. After all, who in their right mind would want anything to do with Ma? And then there was Virgil. But as he got older, he had to admit the fault was within himself. He’d never been able to commit to anyone. It didn’t take women long to figure that out.

But there was something about Sadie. Something different.

“It’s kinda quick,” she said. “But you know when it’s right.”

“Yeah,” he said.

“They’re going, the ones you’re supposed to be watching.”

“Damn, I forgot.” He pulled away from her.

“Just a second.” She still had her arms around his neck. She pulled him in. Kissed him hard. “Just so you don’t forget to call.”

“I won’t.”

“Go.” She kissed him again, quick.

“See ya.” Horace backed away.

Outside, he saw the couple turn the corner and head down toward the beach. He sprinted across the street. Inside the diner, he dropped a fifty on the table. “Keep the change,” he told the waitress. Then to Virgil, “Come on, we gotta go.”

Jasmine wouldn’t stop worrying until her mom was back and they were inside the condo with the doors locked. She peeked through the blinds. She had a good view of her condo from the clubhouse on the third floor.

“This is a stupid way to spend Saturday,” Sonya said. She was Jasmine’s best friend. They sat next to each other in school. She’d turned eight a week ago and she’d been lording it over Jasmine, the age difference, and she’d keep it up till the week after next, when Jasmine’s birthday came around.