Sintown Chronicles I: Behind Closed Doors (96 page)

“Hi, Penny."

“You're off the hook now, Tim. What are you doing here?"

“I've gotten over the shock, Penny. There are some loose ends we need to tie together. May I come in?"

She stepped aside and he sat on the living room couch, removing his jacket and tossing it on the coffee table.

“Want some coffee or something?"

“It's chilly outside this morning, Penny. A cup of coffee would warm me up."

“It'll take a few minutes."

“Hey, if you don't have any made, instant will do."

“Ugh. I hate instant coffee. It's time to make a fresh pot anyway."

Tim followed her to the kitchen. She was wearing stretch pants and a man's tee shirt, which called attention to her expanding stomach.

“Where's Sean?” he asked.

“I don't need him hanging around all the time. I talked him into going back to work this morning."

“That's good. I was beginning to hear complaints. I didn't see Billy when I drove up. Is he in one of the greenhouses?"

“No,” she replied as she poured water into the coffee maker and switched it on. “He worked during the night and is helping the Nickels move today."

“So you're alone?"

She turned and glared at him. An unexpected tremor of nervousness showed on her hands. “What do you want, Tim?"

He smiled. “Turn around, Penny."

“Why?” she asked suspiciously.

“I have a surprise for you. Now go on, turn your back to me."

As soon as her back was turned, he wrapped his arms around her. His left arm was just under her breasts, pulling her against him. She felt his erection pressing into her buttocks. His right hand rubbed her lower belly.

“Little bastard's growing fast,” he said.

“Let me go,” she demanded, uselessly struggling against his strength.

His right hand dipped beneath the waistbands of her pants and panties.

“Stubble,” he cooed. “Letting the old pubic hair grow out, are we?"

“Tim, damn it, I told you I was not going to have sex with you anymore."

“Yep,” he replied sarcastically. “That's what you said all right.” He forced his hand between her tightly clamped thighs, moved up and caressed her vaginal lips. “That's what you said, but your body has other ideas. That thing is begging for it."

“Tim, let me go. Sean is your friend. Don't do this to me—to him."

“You fucking slut,” he laughed as he slammed her against the counter and pinned her with his body pressed against hers. “Sean is a business associate and nothing more. Perhaps you don't know that I set him up in business—he's into me for over a million dollars. How would you like for me to call in the loan?"

He yanked up the tee shirt, forced it over her head and off her arms. “Bitch,” he laughed as he unhooked her bra, “you don't think those tears are going to stop me, do you?"

“I hate you,” she spat out as her bra fell into the kitchen sink.

“Who gives a shit?” he laughed. His hands clutched her breasts. “Ah,” he moaned. “There are those luscious, bouncy tits, and what's this? Hard nipples? You want me as much as I want you."

“I can't control my body's reaction, but if you fuck me it will be rape."

“Will it now? Well, I wouldn't want to rape you.” He backed away, releasing her. “Let's have that cup of coffee. It smells delicious."

She grabbed her bra. “If you cover up those huge tits I'll beat the shit out of you,” he snarled. “You'll probably abort the bastard and Sean wouldn't like that. Now pour the damn coffee."

She felt humiliated. Her mind raced, but she found no way out of the dilemma. They carried mugs of coffee back to the living room and Tim sat next to her on the sofa. He put his left arm around her, pulling her close as he fondled her left breast.

“As I said, we have some loose ends to tie up. First of all, I like screwing you. You're a choice piece of ass and Sandra hasn't spread her legs for me but four times since the baby was born. Even then, spread her legs was all she did. I was happy to pay you five thousand a month in return for screwing you once a week. That should prove how choice I think you are. You may be ready to give it up, but I'm not."

“Is your wife ... Sandra ... is she not good in bed?” Penny asked, wondering why his stroking fingers were not arousing her.

“Hell, Penny. In her day, she was a damn fucking machine. Your best against her best would be no contest. Something snapped when Tim Junior came along."

“Work on it, Tim. Send her roses. Take her dining and dancing. Compliment her. Give her gifts. Tell her how much you love her."

“Don't you think I've tried all of that?” he said. His hand became a steel trap on her breast. “I even paid your friend, Alfred Young, to work on her."

“What?"

“Yeah. He was plying her with drugs that would relax her and remove inhibitions. He hooked her quickly, and it looked like his therapy was beginning to work just when he got himself murdered.” He smiled and looked off in the distance. “When she is asleep, after taking one of his pills, I can do any damn thing with her I want to—and she responds just like she used to. Of course,” he chuckled, “she's mad as hell when she wakes up the next morning and finds my cum leaking out of her."

“Have you tried simply sitting down and talking with her?"

“Of course. She'll talk about anything but that. She doesn't understand there's a problem."

He kept his left hand on her breast, turned slightly towards her and rubbed her swollen belly. He placed his lips on her right nipple and sucked hard on it. “You know what I'm especially looking forward to?” he asked and then continued without waiting for an answer. “I'm looking forward to sucking your tits dry after your milk comes in. Sandy wouldn't let me even have a taste."

Abruptly he stood and began to pace. “I liked it better when you were the blackmailer and I was the innocent victim, but since the shoe's on my foot now, here's the deal."

He paused, looked at her, said, “Get naked,” and resumed pacing. “I know everything there is to know about you, going back to the day you were born. I have enough evidence to put you behind bars until you are so old your nipples scrape the floor when you walk. I'll be damned if I understand what you see in Sean Taylor, but I remind you, I can destroy his business with a single snap of my fingers. And baby, I can prove that the father of your bastard is the dummy, Billy Morgan. How do you think Sean will feel about that?” He stopped pacing and glared at her. “Are you getting the picture?"

Penny nodded as she tossed her panties on top of the pile of clothes on her coffee table.

“Stretch your legs and give me a nice view,” he demanded as he resumed pacing. “I've bought the motel at the end of Old Charlotte Road, just this side of the Charlotte City limits. You know the one I mean. I've remodeled the place and room 1213 is set up just for me.” He dug in his pocket and placed a key on the table. “You will meet me there every Wednesday at noon.” He whirled around and pointed at her. “And you'll come any other time that I tell you also."

He paused and concentrated on her crotch. “Looking good, honey,” he leered. “I like the stubble. Let's keep it that way—not shaved but not full-length either. Play with that thing for old Tim."

Why am I not enjoying this? she wondered. One of my best fantasies is to belong to a domineering lover.

He watched her moving fingers with satisfaction.

She felt humiliated.

“I'm going to continue paying you the five grand a month. It's a fair deal. We're going to become legitimate business partners too."

“Business partners?” she asked.

Her voice was anything but breathless. It disturbed him that she did not seem aroused. “Yes, in two ventures. You know I want your property for my housing development. I'll give you a fair price and I have decided to let you keep twenty acres which includes the house and greenhouses."

“You know that on his deathbed Uncle Amos asked me not to sell the land to you."

“Yeah,” he sneered, “and I know how much you respect Amos Stones’ memory—going around telling people he's the father of your bastard."

“You said there were two business deals."

“The other is very legitimate. Old Amos was onto something when he came up with the greenhouse idea, and it looks to me like he was successful at getting the bugs worked out before he died. Tobacco farmers all over the south need a new revenue crop. I am going to set up the Dollar Produce Company—in fact, I already have. You're going to hold seminars all over the south, telling farmers how they can make a mint growing off-season vegetables. We'll sell them a franchise deal that includes prefabricated greenhouses and a nice little instruction book that you put together. We'll buy produce directly from these farmers at wholesale and sell to the grocery chains and restaurants."

“I don't know anything about writing."

“Hell, Penny. Dot is overflowing with writers. You will provide the information and we'll find a writer. Dollar Publishing Company will take care of the printing."

“If I agree to all this, will you give me a chance to have a decent life with Sean?"

“That's the deal.” Suddenly, with a single sweep of his arm, Tim cleared the coffee table and pointed at it. “On your back, partner. We're going to do it missionary style today. I want to feel your belly pushing against me."

“No,” she replied.

He whirled around. “On your back, slut!"

“Never again,” she said, stepping into her panties.

“I'll destroy you, bitch.” He followed her to the kitchen.

“Maybe,” she said as she fastened her bra and slipped it around her chest to put the fastener on her back and the cups to her breasts. “But maybe not. It's a risk I must take. I have a chance to turn my life around, Tim Dollar, and you and all your money are not going to stop me."

He tried to reply but the sight of slender fingers stuffing her breasts into the brassiere cups held him spellbound.

“I will not sell you my land, but I will think seriously about your business proposition. I don't think you will carry out your threat. If you do, your wife will know and so will the entire town."

“Detective Borders? This is Leora Nickels. I want whoever that woman is who answered the telephone at the Sheriff's Department fired."

“Calm down, Mrs. Nickels. What happened?"

“I told her repeatedly that this is an emergency, but she kept putting me off. Even when she admitted you have a cellular phone with you she wouldn't give me the number."

“If your call is an emergency, let's discuss the incident with the dispatcher later. What's up?"

“We're moving to a new house today. We ran out of packing boxes so I made a quick trip to the Dot Grocery to see if they had any empties. When I passed Penny Swanson's house there were two cars parked about one hundred feet on either side of her house with men sitting behind each steering wheel pretending to read newspapers. They were still there thirty minutes later on my return trip. I'm afraid..."

“Me, too,” he interrupted. “What kind of cars were they? Did you get license tag numbers? Can you describe the men?"

“Because they were inside their cars and hiding behind newspapers, I couldn't get a good look at the men. All I can tell you is that they are both Caucasian. I don't know cars. They looked like late models to me and both were dark blue. Both cars had North Carolina license tags.” She paused to consult her notes. “One tag was JVA-1408. The other was what they call a vanity plate I guess. It said GOLF2DAY."

“Do you know if Penny is at home? Are Sean and Billy with her?"

“I think she probably is at home. I didn't see Sean's car and Billy is helping us move today, but Tim Dollar may be with her. His red Mustang is parked in her driveway."

“I suspect they have cased the place carefully and were surprised by Tim's arrival. They're probably waiting for him to leave."

“But why would they come in two cars?” Leora asked. “That's what has me stumped."

“If something goes wrong, they can make their get-a-way in different directions. It sort of evens the odds. Let's just hope that Mr. Dollar stays with Penny until we can get there. We're at least thirty minutes away."

“Do hurry, Detective. Penny is really trying to turn her life around."

“I hope you're right about that, Mrs. Nickels, but I have my doubts. We're on our way. Now listen carefully to me, Leora."

“Yes sir?"

“You've done a great job helping us with this case. It looks like we're nearing the end. You leave it up to me from here on out. Don't go getting any ideas. One female hostage is bad enough. Do you understand me?"

“Yes sir, Detective. Please hurry."

“I mean it, Leora. I don't want you getting hurt."

Leora dialed the number for Penny Swanson. There was no answer. She called Sean's office, but the secretary said Sean was in Charlotte.

Leora hung up the telephone. Her hands were trembling. She removed her glasses, rubbed her eyes, replaced the glasses and lit a cigarette. As she exhaled a stream of smoke, she smiled.

“Randy,” Leora said. “I need to talk with you, Jo and Billy in private."

Randy, carrying a heavy box of dishes towards the front door, paused and with a little irritation said, “Mom, can't it wait? The movers are here, damn it, and they charge by the hour."

“No,” she whispered as a workman passed within earshot. “It won't wait. It's an emergency."

He sat the box down with a sigh and motioned to Jo who was packing the last box of glassware. He glanced around and found Billy descending the folding staircase carrying Jo's computer. “Be careful with that thing, Billy,” Randy called out.

“Yes, sir. Computers are expensive,” Billy grinned.

“Put the computer down and come with me. Mother wants to talk with us about something."

The only empty room where they could find privacy was the bathroom. Leora sat on the commode while Jo and Billy sat on the edge of the bathtub. Randy, propping against the sink, said with disgust showing in his voice, “Okay, Mom. What's so important?"

“We don't have much time,” Leora began. “Penny's life is in danger."