Chapter 13

Nick and Carl responded to the half-dozen 911 calls concerning the Ferndez home. All reported shots fired with a possible double homicide. Jumping from their squad car with handguns drawn they raced into the garage that was rapidly drawing a crowd. The ambulance drove into the driveway just behind them, dispersing the curious neighbors. A quick look at each body showed large portions of the skulls missing. The woman was naked and sitting up against the wall. The man was lying on the floor of the garage, but the red splash on the ceiling told the story of the direction of fire.

Both officers holstered their weapons and walked out to greet the paramedics. "Nothing for you here," Carl said as he held up his hands, "We need the coroner." The EMTs slowed to a walk and went inside to check the bodies. "Don't touch anything you don't need to," Nick warned.

He keyed his mike, "I've got a double homicide at this address. Cancel the backup, and send out a detective." Nick walked across the street, "Who saw anything?" He looked over the Ferndez neighbors.

A woman stepped forward, "I saw it, or at least, some of it."

Nick said, "Name?"

"Lois Walker. I live across the street. I came out to get my mail, and I saw their garage door open. I saw a car backup and light out at a lick. Enrico fired the shotgun at Nelia and hit her. Then he pointed it at me and looked like he was going to shoot. He just stared at me down the barrel, and then he lowered the gun, turned it around, put it in his mouth, and pulled the trigger. What a mess!"

"Did you see who was in the car?"

"Not really, it was a black man I know that, but I didn't get a good look at him."

Nick raised his voice to carry over the crowd, "Any one see the man who fled in the car?"

A couple of neighbors called out "it was a black man."

"Mrs. Walker, did you see what kind of car it was?"

"I don't know much about cars, but I think it was a Saturn, my sister owns one, and it looked like that. I'm not sure what year, but it wasn't real new."

"Okay, Mrs. Walker, I'll be in touch."

Nick walked up to Carl who said, "My guess is that the boy who drove off was doing the missus and got caught by the husband. She was probably doing him in the garage and didn't realize her husband was home. There's a gun cabinet in the house with the door open and a drawer holding shot gun shells is pulled out. He got the gun and the shells in a hurry."

"So we want the boy in the car as a material witness, that's all?"

Carl nodded, "Yeah, I think so. It my not be smart for a black man to fuck a white woman in her own house, but it ain't illegal as long as she invites him."

Nick agreed, "I'll get out a bulletin to pick up a young black man as a material witness. I don't think we should have much trouble finding him.

Jack's cell phone, like every other cell phone on the planet, rang at the worst time. It was in his pant's pocket beyond his reach. Allison, closer to it, answered it, after she took Jack's cock out of her mouth.

"Hello?"

"It's the Chief. Is Jack there?"

"Just a second, Chief."

Allison handed the phone to Jack and went back to work. This was a special occasion. According to her secret file, the file that went back to the first day she worked for Jack Gardener fifteen years ago, where she recorded the details of the blowjob he talked her into giving him during lunch and every type of sex act since, this was blowjob number one thousand. Jack didn't know this, but she did. Every one was recorded and dated.

"Chief." He felt his cock enter her mouth again.

"I got bad news, Jack." Shit, he's going to arrest me.

"You do?"

"Yeah, one of your counselors was murdered just now."

Jack sat up and pulled his prick from Allison's mouth. "Who?"

"Nelia Ferndez."

"Shit. You're sure?"

The Chief smiled on his end. He knew how much trouble this news was going to cause Jack. "She was fucking someone, and her husband caught them and killed her, and then he shot himself."

Allison buttoned her blouse and stood up.

"Shit, shit, shit."

"Sorry about the bad news." The Chief thought, you deserve this you bastard.

"Thanks, Chief."

Allison appeared presentable again after she smoothed out the knees of her slacks and put on fresh lipstick. Lately, she had taken to putting on lipstick before giving Jack a blowjob. She wondered if Mrs. Gardner had ever noticed the bright red stains on his cock. So far she hadn't, leading Allison to believe she was providing a service not offered at Jack's house.

"What is it Jack?"

"Nelia Ferndez is dead. Her husband shot her when he caught her fucking some guy."

"Oh, my God." Allison knew Nelia well. They were neighbors.

"Then her husband killed himself."

Allison sat down in the chair by Jack's desk.

"Tell Maintenance to put the flag a half-staff tomorrow. Allison send an email to all parents notifying them of this. Have Marci put up something on the web page about it. No details, just an announcement and a picture." He paced by his desk.

"Call some counselors in if the counselors want to talk about this."

Allison made a note, but looked at Jack strangely. He's cracking up.

Jackson drove through the stop sign on the corner, but by the next corner rational thought returned, and he had slowed to stop at the next sign. He looked for his pants and realized they were still on the garage floor along with his underwear. His wallet was still sitting on the console between the seats. Nelia's clothes were on the seat next to him, the panties still damp. With no pants he knew his options were limited.

He drove the speed limit for a half-hour pondering his choices. Home? No he would have to walk in naked from the car. His mother would go insane. None of the women he serviced would welcome him, unannounced and naked. As his brain settled down more, he realized he hadn't committed a crime. He was sure any laws about black men fucking white women had long since disappeared. Maybe he should just go to the police. My father and grandfather would say I was crazy to go the cops. Grandpa would say you're looking to hang from a rope. But, I'm a top student, I've never had a problem with the law. I didn't shoot her.

He turned on the radio and spun the dial to the local news station. "... fled from the scene. Police are looking for an older model Saturn, color black. Any one seeing this vehicle is requested to call police. Police say he is wanted for questioning."

Jackson snapped off the radio and turned right for downtown Black Mountain. He couldn't go in without pants, but Chester Harris, eighty-five, was taking his daily stroll when Jackson pulled up.

Harris rapped on the desk and the duty officer walked over to the laughing man. "What's up, pops?"

"Yah'll got a naked nigra in a car parked out front. I think he said he wants yah'll to go out and arrest him."

"Pop, don't play games with me, I'm busy."

Carl stepped up. "You say a naked black man?"

"Yeah."

Carl jumped the waist-high divider and ran for the door. Outside was a Saturn with a young black man behind the wheel. Carl pulled his gun. "Get out of the car."

Jackson put up his hands. "I don't have any clothes on. Could you get me something, like a blanket or a pair of pants."

The duty officer stood behind Carl laughing. "Well, I guess we do have a naked black man in a car. Carl unlocked the trunk of his squad car and pulled out a blanket. He tossed it to Jackson.

The door opened and Jackson got out with the blanket around the waist. Emory Taylor, the duty officer, laughed. "You gonna frisk him, Carl."

Carl holstered his gun and pointed to the front door. "Let's go inside."

Carl led Jackson to a small room and set him at the table. "Any one you want to call?"

Jackson, visibly nervous, said, "Am I being arrested?"

Carl sat down opposite him. "Depends on your story? Did you kill her?"

Jackson cried out. "She's dead? Oh, shit."

"You didn't know that?"

"No, when I drove off he had a gun pointed at her, but he hadn't fired." Jackson didn't mention the shot he heard.

"What were you doing in the garage?" The question slid out like oil.

Jackson looked at Carl, trying to read his face. How to answer? He thought. He told the truth. "We were having sex."

"Consensual?"

The boy nodded.

"What's her relationship to you?"

"She's my guidance counselor at the high school."

"How many times have you banged her."

"This was the first."

The questioning went on for another hour with Carl going over each point again and again trying to make Jackson make a mistake.

"Sit, here, I'll be back." Jackson was still very nervous as Carl left the room.

The Chief was back at the station to check on the investigation. Murder is still rare enough in Black Mountain to require the Chief's personal attention.

"Chief, his story seems solid with all the facts. He was fucking the old lady and got caught by her husband."

"He can thank his stars that Enrico Ferndez didn't shoot his black ass."

Carl laughed, "I'm going to let him go."

"Go ahead." The Chief waved him off.

A few minutes later Carl walked in carrying sweat pants and a tee shirt. "Put these on, you're free to go. You're car's parked out on the street."

Jackson sat up straighter and took the clothes.

"Boy, you got to watch where you use that dick of yours. The south's changed, but a black man in a white woman is still a touchy subject. You're going to walk out of here alive and free. A hundred years ago, you would have been lynched before the sound of the gunshot faded; fifty years ago, you would have even had a trial before you hung; twenty-five years ago, we would have actually had to have some evidence to send you to prison. Now, you're free to go. Be careful."

Not happy about her return Allissa Avery dropped her dust-covered bag in the strippers' dressing room. Amanda Franklin looked up and whistled. "Allissa, you're dancing again?"

"Yeah, my boy's been arrested, and I need to make some bail money."

Amanda was sitting at her dressing station naked while she painted her toes. "Great, I don't have to be the fucking opening act any more for all the cheapskates that only come in for the cheap buffet."

"Amanda, I've got ten years on the stage, I'm not fucking going first. You find a dancer with more time spinning around that damn pole and you can put me up before her." Allissa dropped the bag on her chair and started moving her things to the empty dressing station.

"Have some pity here; I've been dancing first for two months." She whined.

"Amanda, I've got a kid in jail, who's innocent, and he's getting the crap beat out of him on the inside." She couldn't look at the little bitch without crying, and she wouldn't be caught crying here.

"I've got a kid in school, who need things. Better him than some jail bird."

This was a knife through Allissa's heart. She pulled a nail file from her bag. She turned to Amanda and stepped up to her. Amanda looked up at her as if she was some old hag she didn't have to show respect to. Allissa's hand pulled Amanda's head back to the dressing station behind her bending her over her chair backward. She felt a sharp point on her throat and didn't move. Allissa leaned over her and whisper, "Listen you little cunt, I'm not going first. Unless, I have to cut your little throat, but if I let you live you're dancing first. Understand?"

Amanda nodded quickly. Allissa pressed the file deeper into her throat. "Don't fuck with me, Amanda, I'll slit your throat next time."

She released her and Amanda rubbed her neck. She gave her a wary gaze, "I didn't know you felt that way about it. Fuck you, go ahead and dance whenever you want. It ain't shit to me."

Allissa coldly said, "Just remember, don't fuck with me."

"Alright, alright." She rubbed her neck.

Allissa silently set up her dressing station and hung her old outfits on the hooks to the left. Four CD cases clattered around the bottom. She looked at the titles, a bit dated, she thought, but usable. She stripped and began to put her makeup on. She ignored Amanda when she made a loud exit to go out to perform for the buffet crowd.

In jail night is a time of sounds. The continual hiss of smoked-clogged lungs, coughing, hacking, spitting up the foul chemicals inmates inhale for pleasure; this keeps first-time felons awake. Sean Avery is awake. The bass line of breathing makes sleep impossible. Prisoners talk to their demons at night in frantic, staccato cries. The sounds of bodies twisting in the racks, trying to find the one spot of comfort jail doesn't allow. He can hear the rustle of a rapidly moving hand under a sheet; the rapid breathing that proceeds a grunted climax, and then just the base line breathing again. The quiet masturbators don't scare Sean; they're harmless, taking their pleasure and returning to sleep. Sean is awake as he listens for movement below him. It won't be quiet stroking; it will be the inmate getting out of his bunk and the quiet swish of coveralls falling to the floor. The loud squeak of the metal bed frame stressed by the large man climbing into Sean's bunk, and then silence. The sheet whispers as it moves over a quivering body. The inmate smells the fear and it stiffens his erection. A quiet tug on the coveralls Sean ignores. A silent prick of a knife against his leg incites Sean to unzip his coveralls and push then down his body. Sean learned this well the night before. The bed faintly creaks as his briefs are yanked down. Another creak as the inmate's body covers Sean's. The inmate pricks his knife against Sean's neck to remind him of the value of silence. Then comes the pain. Sean swallows a howl and it resounds as a familiar whimper. More pain and Sean's tears wet his pillow as he chews on his hand. The pain dulls his hearing, and the sound of sliding fists under sheets grows as men borrow Sean's pain for their pleasure. The inmate begins to rut. The frame bed squeaks a rhythm of pain and fear accompanied by the rising whimpering as weak flesh is torn by stronger flesh. The whimpering fades under the hoarse panting sounds of a man at serious work. He is near the end of his labors. Throughout the cell, groans tell of men who draw near their climax, led by the inmate's pounding slaps on Sean's slim buttocks. The inmate freezes and his seed is pumped into a place of death. Contented sighs signal the end of this violation, but all know there will be more, especially Sean.