Craig Smith - Cold Rain

Buddy walked toward Molly, and nodded toward the TV screen. ‘You remember what night that was, Molly?’

‘The night you killed our dogs,’ I said.

‘I didn’t touch your dogs, Dave. That was Roger.

Roger hates dogs.’

On screen, Molly laughed as she rocked her hips over Buddy while his hands squeezed her breasts.

‘What do you think Roger? You want some of that sweet pussy or a little professional head?’

Roger’s eyes darted from Buddy to me. ‘I’m ready for a blow job.’

‘You heard the man, Molly! Get down on your knees and show us how a pretty little pregnant girl makes her living on the streets.’

Molly slid out of the chair and knelt in front of Roger. ‘Just don’t hurt us,’ she said.

‘You’ve got my word on that,’ Buddy answered. ‘You cooperate and we all walk away good friends. Course, if you go to the sheriff or Dave comes after one of us, Lucy gets her own copy and we put another one on the internet for all your friends. That fair enough to keep the two of you honest?’

‘Let’s just get it over with.’

Buddy laughed. ‘Damn, woman! This isn’t your husband. Show some enthusiasm.’

‘You know what?’ Roger said as he stepped away from Molly and faced me, ‘I think I’d rather have Dave do it.’

Buddy laughed. ‘There you go!’ Buddy pointed his gun at my head. ‘You heard the man, Dave!’

With Buddy’s four-ten close to my ear, I could see Roger lifting the twelve-gauge, the barrelling coming up level on Buddy. Buddy saw it too, but he couldn’t respond in time. Roger’s shot hit him in the chest. I felt the percussion of the blast, the blood splattering across my hair and cheek. The birdshot from Buddy’s weapon hit our ceiling as he fell, showering me with plaster.

Molly came off her knees the moment Roger’s gun discharged. Only a step away, she got hold of Roger’s gun and struggled to hang on while Roger whipped the gun about, trying to throw her free. I got to them before Roger could turn the gun in my direction, and cracked his jaw with a right hook that felt better and purer than any punch I’d ever thrown.

Molly came away with the gun and rolled to a sitting position in time to see Buddy crawling up over the back of the chair I had been sitting in. His gun was already aiming in our direction when she pulled the trigger and blew his face away.

I got to my feet and went to Buddy. I checked his carotid artery for a pulse. He was still alive, but not for long. His legs twitched. His face was blackened, ruined. One eye had been ripped out. The other was open, blood pooling in it.

Picking up the four-ten, I aimed it at Roger as Molly searched him for a weapon. When she had finished I told her to call the sheriff’s department.

I heard her on the phone. Two people shot, she said into the phone. She gave directions to the farm. She answered several questions with a yes or no. Roger tried to talk once, but I ordered him to shut up. He stared at me, his breathing ragged, his eyes wet. He thought I had lied to him, and now, because of it, he was going to jail.

I told Molly to hang up. She looked at me, frowning. Police agencies, I knew, liked to keep people on the line during an emergency. ‘Hang up,’ I said.

This time, she did. ‘Flash the lights just like last time.’

She walked over to the light switch, three times off, three on. She didn’t understand but she knew I was up to something. Our phone rang, but I told Molly not to answer.

I looked at Roger. ‘You came in two cars?’

He shook his head. ‘I drove us out.’

I smiled at him. ‘Buddy needed a ride home, Roger.

He couldn’t very well drive your car away if he wanted the police to think you were out here by yourself.’

Roger stared at me, trying with his impressive IQ to comprehend what I was saying. I wasn’t sure he did until we heard a car pull into our driveway and start up the hill.

‘Sounds to me like a Mercury Marquis. That sound like a Merc to you?’

Roger blinked stupidly, but he finally got it.

‘Now who’s the dumb ass?’ I snarled.

Buddy Elder’s car idled in the circle in front of our house.

‘If she drives away before the cops show up, she’ll beat any indictment they throw at her. The thing to do is to get her inside the house and keep her here.

That way she can’t come up with some alibi. You get her involved in this and you can deal with the prosecutor. She drives off, you’re looking at death row for Johnna’s murder – with Denise as the state’s star witness.’

Roger’s eyes shifted nervously.

‘Of course, if you’re in love with the woman, the best thing you can do is tell her to run. Believe me, she will.’ I kicked up one shoulder. ‘At least one of you will be free to spend all that money.’

The car door slammed. I motioned to Molly to move back out of sight and pushed one of the chairs around a bit so I would have an unobstructed view to Roger as I retreated to cover. Roger started to stand up, but I told him, ‘Stay down, like you’re wounded, or I promise you will be.’

I listened for the sound of sirens, but the night was still silent. The door at the back porch screeched open and slammed shut.

‘Buddy?’ Denise called.

‘In here!’ Roger shouted. ‘Buddy’s been shot!’

We heard Denise running down the hallway. She burst into the room, eyes wide open in fright, her face bloodless. Seeing Buddy stretched out, his face broken apart, she ran to him and threw herself down over him with a shriek.

I went forward quickly, jerking her up by her coat.

She made no resistance when I threw her over the back of the chair and searched her roughly for a weapon. While I did, Denise screamed profanities at Roger with a nastiness that surprised me. What happened? What had he done to Buddy? Roger answered in the same spirit. They had been planning to kill him!

I told them both to shut up. When they ignored me, I tossed her to the floor and stepped toward Roger, offering the butt of the four-ten as a threat. Roger shut up, but he continued staring at his newly-wed wife incredulously, and I couldn’t resist.

‘You didn’t really believe she loved you?’

Roger didn’t answer me. He did turn, however, and watched Buddy and Molly working themselves toward a mutual climax on our television. It was, under the circumstances, an eloquent rebuttal.

I heard the first sirens and left the room, intending to snap on the floodlights so they could find Wade. I got as far as the front hall when I heard the report of a handgun. I was down before I registered that I had been shot. My back on fire, my brain struggling to understand what had just occurred, I heard two more shots from a handgun, followed by the unmistakable blast of the twelve-gauge.

I tried to crawl across the parquet floor toward the four-ten I had dropped when I fell, but Molly came to me. As she held me, I tried to speak, but I couldn’t.

Turning, I saw Denise Conway lying across Buddy Elder’s legs. The back of her head was broken apart, her peroxide blonde hair stained in blood. Roger Beery lay on his back, his arms and legs twitching oddly, blood on his face.

The front hallway lit up with whirling red and blue lights, the last thing I saw before I passed out.

I was conscious again when they settled me into the ambulance, but not for long. Later, when I woke up, I looked at the hospital room, did not especially like what I saw, and went back to sleep.

At ten I was fully awake and in a different room.

Molly was in a chair close to my bed. From the number of magazines at her feet, I guessed she had been there quite a while. My voice cracked when I tried to speak.

I felt dizzy, but I did not pass out.