A Southern Psycho

§

Ben had just finished breakfast and was smoking a cigarette when Janet, who was standing at the patio door looking out, said, "Ben, there's a woman fishing from the dock."

He took an umbrella and made his way down the steep slope of the hill to where it leveled off before getting to the dock.

She was wearing a raincoat and casting a spinner bait out toward the deeper part of the lake. Rain dripped from her Stetson.

"I hear fishing is better on a rainy day," she said.

"They say rain puts more oxygen in the water making the fish more active. But with overcast skies, like this, they move in toward shore. You're more likely to catch something there than out in deeper water."

"Smart ass, aren't you. What kind of fish you got in here, Killer?" She angled her Graphite rod toward the shore.

"Bass, mostly."

She puttered around in silence for a while, then spoke.

"Somebody beat up the Rencher's yesterday. You know the Renchers, don't you?"

Ben shrugged.

"It's their daughter living with you."

"Really? I don't think she mentioned that."

"Yep." She reeled in and made a leisurely cast. "Funny thing is, they don't wanna say who assaulted them. You'd think that would be the first thing they'd want to say . . . You know, on the one hand, I'm thinkin' that they're too afraid of who ever did it to say anything, but, then again, if it were I, I'd want the son of a bitch in jail who did it, right?"

"Yeah, maybe. Maybe he told them he'd come back and do worse to them, if they did."

"Well, that could be. But, on the other hand, I'm thinking, cynic that I am, that maybe the reason they're quiet is because they're guilty of something far worse than the beating they got, you think?"

"Well now, that's a good possibility."

"At any rate, I came here to tell Janet that her folks are in the hospital; cause I quess she'll be want'n to go see them, you know. Then I saw this lake and couldn't resist, but since you're here you can tell her." She reeled in her line and held her rod vertically next to her like a staff. She glanced out over the lake. "You know, this is nice and secluded. Maybe when the weather gets warmer I could come here and go swimming. I wouldn't need a bathing suit, would I? I don't wear a gun when I'm naked..."

"Neither do I."

"Apropos, Roy, the sheriff, told me you're a dangerous fellow--not that I needed that tidbit. He's the one who arrested you. But, you know, I like danger. It's the spice of life. Life wouldn't be worth living without it. Any man who isn't dangerous wouldn't be worth knowing and wouldn't be worth a damn in bed."

~11~

A light snow mixed with sleet was falling. Merle had driven Janet to school and they wouldn't be back till four. Ben piled another log on the fire and poured himself a second cup of coffee, lit a cigarette and settled back in the recliner. He dozed for a while and was awaken by the sound of a car pulling into the drive.

When he opened the door, Bud Shultz was standing there in a green, hooded, Gore-tex coat.

"Looks like we're gonna get some more bad weather," he said.

"Climate change."

"Bull shit."

Ben poured him a cup of coffee, and they seated themselves around the coffee table.

"Nice place you've got here; I just came by to give you this." He reached in his coat and withdrew a plain envelope. "I was instructed to give you this in a cover letter."

Ben took the envelope and looked at it. There wasn't any printing or writing on it.

"Don't open it until I leave. I don't want to know what's going on."

"Not a little curious?" Ben teased.

"Curiosity killed the cat." He finished his coffee and stood up. "I imagine whatever is in there will tell you what this is all about. I don't imagine I'll be seeing you again. So good luck and . . . better if you don't try to contact me in the future."

§

The snow was beginning to stick to the highway. It built up on the windshield where the wipers didn't reach. It was gonna be bad, Shultz was thinking. He didn't like driving in such weather. He wasn't good at it. He slowed down marveling at drivers who passed him, seemingly unconcerned, at a high rate of speed. He'd already felt his wheels slip twice even as slow as he was going. He grew tense, both hands tightly gripping the steering wheel. Damn, damn, damn. Visions of sliding off the road and being stranded haunted him. He fumbled for a cigarette and almost lost control as he over corrected when he hit a patch of ice and felt the tires lose traction.

The back window was covered over. The defroster wasn't working right back there. In his side mirror he saw a black car coming up behind him. He cursed silently. He didn't want a stream of traffic building up behind him. But there was no way he could pull over without taking a chance on getting stuck in the slush. The car was hugging his bumper now. Why didn't the son of a bitch pass him if he was in such a goddamn hurry? Suddenly he felt a thump. The son of a bitch was ramming him! What the hell? The car locked onto him, shoving. Was the son of a bitch crazy? There was another ramming, jarring jolt. Shultz screamed an obscenity. Oh, if only he could get his hands on that son of a bitch for just one godamn minute.

There was a down hill stretch coming up with a rock wall on one side and a deep ravine on the other. The car rammed him again forcing him into the guardrail. As Shultz fought frantically to gain control, the black car swerved hard into his driver's side causing his head to shatter the side glass. His hands dropped from the steering wheel. He caught a glimpse of himself in the rearview mirror as blood flowed into his eyes. The car careened wildly, caught on something, jerked. There was a grinding screech of metal and the car slipped over the guardrail disappearing into the ravine and bursting into flames.

~12~

"Schools are closing early because of the weather, so I brought Midge back," Merle said to Ben. Bob's Burgers ain't gonna be open tonight either, so I'm gonna head on to the dairy before the roads are impassable. I'll spend the night there. Old man Brown cain't get around much anymore, and cows have to be milked no matter what the weather does."

"You want me to make you some sandwiches?" Janet said.

"Naw, Mrs. Brown'll have sump'n to eat, babe."

§

"Isn't the snow beautiful, Ben?" Janet stood by the patio door looking at the huge fakes of snow swirling down. "Like millions of moths falling to their deaths," she added dryly. She looked back over her shoulder. Ben was in the recliner. "We could go for a walk."

Ben got his overcoat out of the closet and put on a pair of rubber boots.

"Wait a sec." She fished a brown, wool scarf off a hanger and, tiptoeing, placed it around his neck.

He put his watch cap on.

She put a hand on his shoulder for balance and slipped on a pair of white boots, then a red, wool jacket and a black beret.

"Isn't it like a wonderland?" she said, as they walked down the road. Snow came down so thickly that it was impossible to see farther than a few hundred feet. Already it was three inches deep and building quickly.

Ben nodded, limping slightly.

"Does it bother you much?"

"No, I'm alright."

"Did you fall down or something?"

"It was a going away present."

She looked at him but said nothing. Then, "Merle always talked about you. He thinks the world of you. You're his only real family. His step-father and mother are nothing but drunks. That's why we're so close. My parents are even worse. They--"

"I know," Ben said. Merle told me."

Her voice quavered bitterly. "They were going to make me have sex with men for money. Merle dropped out of school, took on three jobs--that don't pay diddlysquat--and we moved in your place so I wouldn't have to be with them anymore. He wouldn't let me drop out of school to help out. Dumb bastard thinks I'm smart and should go on to college, but that's just a dream. We'll never have enough money for that, or anything, the way things are now."

The snow built up on their wool coats. The earth was cold and white.

They walked on in silence. After awhile they turned and started back to the cabin. The snow showed no signs of letting up. "I don't want to be poor, Ben. There's no point to living if you're poor."

The sky was dark by the time they got back. The snow flakes had hardened into stinging beads against their faces as the temperature dropped and gusts of wind blew into them.

The electricity was off. Janet lit some candles while Ben started a fire in the fireplace and lit two kerosene heaters.

"Would you light the one in the bathroom?" she said. "Take a bath before the hot water's cold?" She went into the bedroom and came back out after awhile wearing a blue, terry cloth robe. The tie belt was pulled tight around her narrow waist, accentuating the fullness of her breasts and hips. The cell phone on the bar was ringing. She picked it up. "It's Merle." When she was through she curled up on the sofa. "The electricity's off at the dairy, too. Merle said he would've had to milk the cows by hand if he hadn't had generators." She chuckled, rubbing a bare thigh where the hem of the robe had risen up.

Ben lit a cigarette.

"Do you want a beer?"

"Sure. Why not?"

He stared at the velvet sway of her hips as she went bare foot to the kitchen. Returning she curled back upon the sofa. "Merle put out half a dozen plants this summer for seed," she said. "And we got a truckload, along with six ounces of shake mixed with what bud was left after we picked all the seeds out. Merle wants to put out a bunch next spring. We were told a guy named Boone would buy all he had for three thousand a pound."

"Yeah, Boone's been around a long time. You'll undercut everyone at three K." Ben popped the can and took a sip.

"We need to sex them. Do you know how? Means only having to put out female plants?"

"Yeah."

"Can we really make a lot of money that way?"

"Yeah."

"Merle said you would know all about it."

Janet slid off the sofa, arching her back in a stretch. "I'm gonna take a bath. I'll leave some hot water for you."

Ben got up, after she was gone, and threw a couple of logs on the fire. As he started for the stairs, Janet called out. "There isn't any hot water left, but there's enough room for two."

§

Later, Ben heard her coming up the steps. She was naked, silhouetted in the faint glow of candle light from below. She lifted the covers and slid into bed with him. She smelled of lavender-scented soap.

"You're persistent, aren't you?

"Yup."

Her skin was smooth, soft and warm, her lips moist and hungry.

~13~

"Where're we going?" Merle said.

"Parker Motel," Ben said. "But, first, I want you to take me to a bootlegger."

"Nearest one in that direction is Danny."

Ben turned off the highway, down an embankment, onto a dirt drive and stopped in front of a trailer. Danny, a blond, slender youth came sauntering out after a moment, bare chested, despite the cold, a gun butt showing above his waistband.

"Hey, Danny," Merle said. "Need a case of Bud."

Danny ignored Merle, his eyes fixed on Ben. "Who the fuck are you?"

"That's my uncle, Danny. He's cool."

"I'm not talking to you, asshole; I'm talking to him. Now who the fuck are you?" he said, steely-eyed.

"I'm the guy driving this fucking car who wants a fucking case of Bud. You got a fucking problem with that, punk-ass mother fucker?"

Danny pulled a .38 from his waistband and aimed it at Ben's forehead, pulling the hammer back.

Ben was unflinching. "You shouldn't have done that." There was an explosion followed quickly by another.

Two bloody holes appeared on Danny's chest. He dropped . . . his breath no longer fogging the air. Ben was holding the .357. A face darted back from the door of the trailer. Ben got out of the Vette holding the gun cocked and went to the trailer. He could smell pot and baby shit as he entered. A soap opera was playing on a wide-screen TV. A baby was bawling farther back. Ben entered the bathroom halfway down the hallway. A naked woman was crouched down in the shower frantically trying to close the curtain. Ben fired twice. She spilled over onto the floor. He went into the bedroom and emptied the gun on the baby.

"Ain't no world for an orphan," he murmured, reloading.

§

The woman behind the check-in counter pointed him toward the elevator. "There're cookies on the table," she said.

The door to 219 was open. Two men--one black, the other blond--were playing cards at a table by the windows. Smoke filled the room. A big man, built like a wrestler with curly black hair, was stretched out on the nearest twin bed, smoking a cigar and watching a ball game. Half a bottle of one hundred proof Southern Comfort sat on the night stand between the beds.

"You None?" the big man said. He had his hands behind his head, propped up on two pillows.

"I don't have a last name. My mother didn't know who my father was so she named me after her pimp. They put 'none' on my birth certificate where it said father's name. You can call me Ben."

The big man nodded thoughtfully. "Well, you can call me Bull. That's not my real name either, but it'll do." He stood up--not only big but tall as well, perhaps six and a half feet and a good three hundred and fifty pounds, all firm flesh. "Let's take a little walk."

They did, down a couple of hundred feet of hall, and entered a room at the end with a swimming pool with arm chairs scattered around. There was no one else about. The motel was mostly empty.

"Guess it feels good being out of the can, doesn't it," Bull said after they sat down.

"Yeah, it does, and I'm interested in knowing why anyone would go to the trouble of springing me."

"Well, you know, um, you're in the fortunate position of being able to perform a valuable service."

"Yeah, for whom?"

"Good grammar. I like that." Bull shrugged. "You don't need to know that. It's not important who, only why."

"Alright. Why?"

Bull fixed his gaze on him, pulling on the cigar. "You were partners with a man named Wendell Collins before you went to prison. Since then Collins had made a shit load of money hauling drugs into the country. A shit load. We want you to tell us where he's stashed it."

"How in the hell would I know that? Last time I knew Wendell we were both poor as church mice. If he's made a shit load of money, I don't know nothing about it."

"Bad grammar. Tsk tsk. But you were big buddies, right? You can find out where he keeps it."

"Supposing I could, so what?"

"How 'bout a full pardon from the governor and eighty thousand dollars for every year you served, plus a public acknowledgement that you were not guilty of murder? New evidence will surface that you were acting only in self defense when three men attacked you--evidence the prosecution suppressed."

~14~

Page went in the Subway and got a Turkey Breast foot long and a Coke, then back to the Viper to munch on it, occasionally looking through her binoculars at the yellow Vette parked in the front of the Parker Motel two blocks away. The parking lot was practically empty. Snow had been scooped to the edges.

She waited until Ben came out and drove off, then drove to her apartment located in an upscale complex just outside town. She waited till dark, then called the Parker Motel. When a woman answered, she hung up, smiling, and changed into a grey business-looking outfit with a skirt short enough to arouse interest without being sluttish. She got out a winter coat and handbag from a closet, along with an attache case, and left down a flight of steps to her Viper, her spike heels clicking on the concrete pavement were the snow had been cleared away.

At the Parker she entered the vacant lobby through sliding class doors and walked across the shinny tiled floor to the reception desk where a woman in her forties, with kinky brown hair, was sitting.

"My, oh, my. It's so spooky in here," Page said. "So quiet like a morgue. Aren't you scared being all alone? I would be."

The receptionist smiled. "It's not usually so empty, but with all the bad weather we've been having we're not getting many travellers."

"I can imagine. Is there anybody here but me?"

"Not many. Only three units occupied."

"Ooh. Could you place me next to somebody? I'd feel a lot safer that way."

"Yeah, no problem; they're all on the same floor. We like to keep the occupied rooms together. Makes it easier for the cleaners. I can put you in 218. 219 is ocupied."

"Oh, that sounds fine, but . . . um, are the others nearby?"

"Yes," the receptionist answered, slightly perturbed. Units 224 and 231."

"Oh, well, thank you so much." She paid in cash and took the elevator to the second floor holding a cookie between her lips. If 219 didn't pan out she'd only have to knock on two other doors. The thought that she might be wasting her time was with her, but intuition told her that she wasn't. Ben None didn't get out of prison based on his good looks. That would have taken high-powered clout. And it had to be clout for some important reason, a reason she might be able to turn to her own advantage.

She knocked on 219.

He was big, overpowering, blunt-faced--and tall, so tall--a true hulk without the green skin.

Page looked up and smiled apologetically. "Gosh, I'm terribly sorry to bother you, but I can't get my key card to work. I'm such a clutz . . ."

Bull studied her for a moment, his cold, brown eyes taking her in, then smiled slowly, taking the card from her. "Nobody as good-looking as you could be a clutz, honey."

"218," she said, smiling sweetly, stepping back to let him pass. The smell of whiskey and tobacco flowed from the room. She caught a glimpse of a glock lying on a table.

He zipped the card through the slot and pressed the door handle down, opening the door.

"See there, that's all there was to it."

"Well, don't I feel like a complete fool. If this wasn't a dry county I'd buy you a drink."

"Well, honey bun, I'm pretty sure I can scrounge up a sip or two."

"You're the answer to my prayers, uh . . ."

"Bull, just call me, Bull, honey. That's what all my close friends call me, and I think we're gonna be real close."

"And I think you might just be right, Bull. In fact, I'm sure of it. I'm called Suzy by my friends. Just give me a minute to freshen up."

When she was in her room she took off her coat and jacket. She took a pepper-spray, dual function-ink pen from her purse, unbuttoned her blouse and clipped it to her bra. She wrapped four white pills in a piece of tissue and placed it in the bra, too. She examined herself in the bathroom mirror. Knock out, naturally.

He'd left the door open. There were two plastic cups on the table. The glock was gone.

"Come on in, Suzy. Little Kentucky bourbon suit you?"

"Sounds mighty good, Bull." She sat down at the table opposite him.

He poured two fingers in both their cups. She made a grimace after tasting hers.

"I know you're gonna think I'm a pussy, Bull, but would you mind putting a little water in mine?"

"Naw, not at all, Suzy. And I'm hoping you are."

They both chuckled.

When he was in the bathroom, she hurriedly dropped the four pills in his cup and stirred with her finger until they disappeared.

"Ah, that's better," she said, taking a sip when he returned.

"Glad you like it, and there's plenty more." He took a drink and refilled his glass. "Suzy, how did you know there was anyone in this room?"

"Well, when I got here the place was so empty and spooky that I asked the receptionist if there was were any other guests. She mentions that there were a few on this floor, and I asked her to put me next to someone; I guess that seems silly but--"

"Oh, not at all. I mean, a good looking woman like you can't be too careful. The world can be a dangerous place."