Zwylliger

Her coach and lover, Angela Grindle, had been killed, shot dead in a supposed botched robbery attempt. Before her government could kill her for losing, Ethel ran to the United States swim team captain, begging for asylum.

Now she was married to a pig of a man, a brute that demanded she do disgusting things to him with her hands and mouth. Her only happiness was the American television shows and the large swimming pool her savage of a husband had put into the back yard for her.

Dan finished his drink and held up the empty glass. Ethel ignored him, watching the television intently.

"Damn it, woman, get me another drink," Dan ordered.

"Good for you there is the commercial," Ethel groused and got to her feet.

She quickly fixed his drink then thrust it into his hand and laughed at the television commercial as a man groaned, 'I can't believe I ate the whole thing.'

Dan winced at the sound of her cackling laughter.

He put the drink down and got to his feet.

Ethel did not look up from her television show.

X.X.X

Mabel shrugged her shoulders in resignation; pointing to the motel. Paul smiled tightly and preceded the prostitute to her room.

He did not want the sex; he wanted sleep. But every time he closed his eyes, he was back in Vietnam.

"How much too just, you know, just sit here and talk?" Paul asked.

"Man, what? You want to talk about why I'm fucking for dough?" Mabel asked, eyes flashing anger.

"No, no, I guess not," Paul sighed.

"I mean what? Now you fucked me a couple of times, you think I got to tell you my life story?" Mabel shrilled louder.

"Got anything drink around here?" Paul asked.

"Bottle of Jack right there," Mabel said, closing the door to the filthy bathroom.

"Like a soda water or something," Paul said.

"Coke machine down at the end of the hall," Mabel said from behind the flimsy door.

He returned with the soft drink; Mabel was already in the bed, nude.

X.X.X

Sally read in her Bible, ignoring her husband. He lay in the bed next to her, sulking after another rebuffed attempt.

"Seriously, Sally, men and women do it all the time," he weakly offered.

"Sex is for procreation and procreation alone," Sally snapped. "And since I am not fertile, there is no reason to..."

"Wait a minute," Graham snapped. "Wait a cotton picking minute here! You mean, ten, fifteen years from now when it's not possible to even have kids, you're going to be cutting me out altogether?"

"Well if we can't have kids, what would be the point?" Sally asked, placing her bookmark in her Bible and putting it on her nightstand.

"I do not believe this," Graham yelled. "We made it through the Swinging Sixties, the Sexual Revolution and I am still married to the most frigid bitch this side of the Mississippi!"

Sally ignored him, applying a heavy coat of moisturizer to her face.

"What are you doing?" Graham asked nastily.

"Putting on beauty cream," Sally answered.

"Why? What's the point?" Graham asked.

Chapter 9

Graham prepared to pull out of the parking lot of the church, then slammed on the brakes and looked around frantically. The car that had almost rear ended him honked.

"Go, what's your problem?" Sally snapped.

"Pardon me," Graham snapped at her. "Remember that car got hit last month? I didn't want to wind up like them, all right?"

Graham again checked all around, and then pulled out into the street.

"Father gave a beautiful sermon," Sally commented.

"Uh huh," Graham said, still cautiously checking all around.

"Watch it!' Sally screeched as Graham nearly ran into the rear of the car in front of them.

X.X.X

"And then the Reverend says 'And then Jesus appeared to them' and..." Josephine was babbling to Dan.

"Jo, leave him alone," Pamela smiled at the thirteen year old girl. "Why don't you go on to your room?"

"Yes ma'am," the girl said.

"Think I'm going to have to keep an eye on her; she's got a little bit of a crush on you," Pamela said, sitting down next to him. "Oh, I got you some of that Jack Daniels you like."

"Thank you," Dan smiled.

He leaned over and kissed her.

"They um, you mind if we..." he whispered.

"I can send them out," Pamela said.

She got to her feet.

"Give me five bucks," she said.

"Five bucks? For what?" Dan asked, already pulling his wallet out.

"Send them down to Early's," Pamela said.

"Girls!" she yelled out.

She sends the three girls down to the grocery store for milk, bread, eggs and bacon.

"There's any change, y'all can have it," the Judge offered magnanimously.

Afterward, the Judge Drove home, belly full and head pleasantly buzzing from the meal she fed him and the alcohol she poured for him and the sex she gave to him.

"Ethel!" he called out as he entered the house.

"Ethel!" he called out, searching around.

"Ethel?" he asked, searching through the upstairs.

Eth..." he called out as he saw her in the swimming pool.

She floated face down, blonde hair fanning lazily in the gently moving water.

"Operator, how may I assist..." the pleasant female voice chirped when Dan dialed 'zero.'

X.X.X

"Indict..." Graham said, looking over the police report. "Surely you can't be serious."

"Hey, she's a former Olympic swimmer, drowns in her own swimming pool?" the young acting Sheriff said tightly. "He's the only one with opportunity, can't offer any kind of alibi for his whereabouts during the time of the drowning. Just looks real suspicious you ask me."

Charles Villeaux looked at his notes again.

"Next door neighbor calls in, says he heard an argument early that morning, then sees the Judge leave the house, driving at a high rate of speed; three hours later, the Judge himself calls in her death; looked mighty suspicious to me," the man said.

"Uh huh," Graham said dourly.

"Of course, when I went next door to ask the neighbor about calling it in, he swears he never made any call," Charles went on.

"Well then..." Graham said.

"So, I guess we can add 'Witness Tampering' to the premeditated murder," Charles concluded.

Judge Irwin Goldman signed the writ to convene a Grand Jury, and even with Graham's lackluster presentation, the men of the jury decided to indict Judge Dan Robertson and charge him with the death of his wife.

At the arraignment, Graham did not fight the request for a low bail amount. He smiled tightly at his friend as Judge Goldman demanded one hundred thousand dollars bail.

X.X.X

"Dan, just have Pamela tell them where you were," Graham whispered into the telephone.

""Have my black lover tell everyone that, instead of being home with my white wife, I was fucking her black pussy?" Dan hissed into the telephone. "Fuck, might as well buy them the rope to hang me with."

"Don't have to tell them you were fucking," Graham said.

"Mr. Johnson; your three o'clock appointment's here," Mrs. Bass interrupted.

"I'll see if I can get someone else on this," Graham offered.

"Are you nuts?" Dan yelled into the telephone. "Get who? Steve? He's just dying to make a name for himself and nailing my ass to the cross would suit him just fine!"

"Sir?" Mrs. Bass said, annoyance creeping into her voice.

Graham nodded to indicate that he had heard her.

X.X.X

Sally joined the four other women in the vestibule. A moment later, Father Damien joined them and the weekly 'Catholic Family' study began.

As usual, Father Damien focused on the importance of the household to have children. He used Scripture to back up the teachings of the Church, as well as quoting the Second Nicene Council.

Sally felt uplifted and wished that it was her fertile time; the desire to procreate was indeed quite strong.

X.X.X

"Aw, Jeez, it's her fucking dumb ass meeting again," Graham complained as he pulled the cold meatloaf out of the refrigerator.

"Really ought to lock your door; never know who'll just walk in," Paul Zwylliger said.

"Son of a..." Graham screamed, dropping the plate to the floor.

"Hi; remember me?" Paul smiled.

"Uh, no, no, can't really say..." Graham lied.

"Shipped me off to Vietnam, took my parents' money to try to get my judgment overturned, didn't try too hard, there was no appeal filed with the St. Elizabeth Courthouse and going to stand there and say you don't know who I am?" Paul scoffed.

"No, I uh," Graham said, sidling over to where the telephone hung on the kitchen wall.

"Go ahead," Paul smiled, nodding with his head toward the telephone. "Reach for it."

Graham did and Paul shot his hand.

"Going to give you the chance to pray; more than you gave my mom and dad," Paul said calmly as Graham stared at his bloody hand.

"You're, you're going to kill me?" Graham said, more of a statement than a question.

"Yep," Paul said and squeezed off three shots.

The first bullet struck Graham in the shoulder, the second tore off a good chunk of his left ear, and the third struck him just above the right eye socket.

Chapter 10

Judge Dan Robertson stared in disbelief as Sheriff Charles Villeaux read him his rights.

"Mur... He was my best friend!" Dan sputtered as the Sheriff pushed him into the rear of the squad car.

Judge Irwin Goldman revoked Dan's bail and remanded him to the DeGarde Police Department's holding cell until a trial could be scheduled.

Assistant District Attorney Steven Hill smirked as Dan protested his innocence.

"Whoever killed Ethel must have stolen my gun!" Dan heatedly argued as his handgun was entered into evidence.

X.X.X

"Mr. Ziggler?" Paul asked the man.

"Yes?" John Ziggler smiled pleasantly.

The smile faded as Paul harangued him about his lack of follow-through with the Zwylliger complaint and especially the lack of follow-through after the untimely demise of his parents.

"I intend to file an official complaint with the State Attorney General and with the Governor, Mr. Ziggler," Paul promised. "My parents expected better of you when they called you."

John Ziggler was perturbed, but not terribly worried. The wheels of Justice ground slowly and one complaint would do very little to slow his political rise.

He ushered/ordered the man out of his office, pulled the Zwylliger file out of the cabinet and stuffed the folder into his briefcase.

After his work day, John brought the file folder home, took it into his back yard, and burned the file folder in his barbeque pit.

"We having hot dogs?" his next door neighbor teased, peering over the fence.

"Nope, sorry to get your hopes up," John joked back.

X.X.X

"Lucky son of a bitch," Buddy Rowan smiled as John Ziggler stepped off the elevator on Wednesday morning.

"Oh?" John asked the red-faced man.

"Been trying to get my office painted now for three years, nothing," Buddy went on, mashing the 'Down' button for the elevator. "You got your office being prepped right now, you dog."

"Uh huh," John shrugged.

He stepped into his office, noticing that there were drop cloths on the floor, and the plates for the two electrical outlets were on his desk.

His foot came down into a puddle of water and he reached out to turn on the overhead light.

John's bare finger made contact with the two wires that stuck out; his light switch and light switch plate were on the desk, next to the two outlet plates.

X.X.X

Paul smiled as he could see the sudden burst of light through the third floor window. He turned and began walking down the steps of the Capital Building.

Paul stopped abruptly as a cobalt blue limousine suddenly stopped at the curb in front of him. A young man, dressed in a cobalt blue military uniform exited the front passenger side of the limousine, gave Paul a sharp salute, and opened the rear of the limousine.

"Colonel Zwylliger, please get in," the young man said.

"I uh," Paul stammered, looking around for an escape route.

"Don't try to run, Colonel," a harsh voice ordered from the rear of the limousine.

"Please get in, Colonel," the young man urged.

Paul nodded and got in.

"Please move over," the young man said and got in behind Paul.

"Well, Colonel, we meet at last," a man, also dressed in a cobalt blue uniform said.

Paul could see that the man had two General's stars on his uniform.

The young man on his right had the bars of a Major.

"I uh," Paul stammered.

"Colonel Zwylliger, I'm General Ambrose Brady," the older man said.

"Please, my rank is Corporal," Paul protested.

"Field Promotion, son," the General smiled tightly.

"That was just some bull shit we made up!" Paul laughed in spite of the fear he felt.

"We took it seriously," the General said, smile still tight.

"So, um, where are we going?" Paul asked as the limousine sped toward Baton Rouge's airport.

"Got a transport waiting to take us to base," the General said.

"Base? Aw no, don't tell me I'm going back!" Paul cried out.

"You're not going to Vietnam, if that's what you're worried about," the Major said, smiling reassuringly.

"No, where you're going makes Vietnam look like playing patty cakes," the General said.

"Suppose I refuse?" Paul asked.

"Then we can let you fry for Sam's murder, Alphonse's murder, not to mention the parents' murders, Stan's murder..." the General ticked off on his fingers.

Paul sat, mouth open in shock.

"Not to mention San Francisco," the Major threw in.

"Yeah, I mean, Patty Snowden's already in custody for that; bet she'd love to finger you for killing her two friends," the General said as the limousine pulled to a stop next to a cobalt blue jet.

"By the way, you're an expert with a handgun; why'd it take four bullets to kill Graham?" the major asked.

Paul's first instinct was to clam up but obviously they knew it was him that had squeezed the trigger.

"Make it look like someone real nervous, someone like a judge did it," he admitted and the Major smiled in appreciation.

"Smart, that's using that noggin for something other than a hat rack, huh?" the young man said.

X.X.X

"When that horse's ass Lyndon Johnson declared war on poverty," General Brady growled.

"Like that would ever work," Major Thompson snickered.

"We convinced him that part of the problem was drugs," General Brady went on.

"The more you do for some people, the less they'll do for themselves," Major Thompson said.

"So, he agreed to set aside two billion dollars for our Agency," General Brady said.

"Billion? With a 'B'?" Paul asked, mouth open in shock.

"Yes sir," Major Thompson agreed.

"We do covert operations; in the United States and abroad," General Brady said.

"Gentlemen, care for any beverages?" a slender blonde in a cobalt blue jacket and skirt asked.

The three men ordered coffee.

Paul watched the blonde's shapely rear as the young officer went to the galley of the jet.

"That is my niece," the General growled at Paul.

"Sorry," Paul said sheepishly.

"You were highly recommended to us; your grasp of languages, natural leadership, ability to make snap decisions..." the Major said.

"Recommended? By who?" Paul asked the young man.

"My son, for one," General Brady smiled as the blonde served them their coffee.

"Damn, this is good," Paul sighed as he sipped the hot beverage.

"No one knows how to make a good cup of coffee like the military does," the General agreed.

"So um, your son is Major Brady?" Paul dared to ask.

"Affirmative," the General said.

"Good man to serve under," Paul complimented.

"Affirmative," the man growled but Paul could see the pride in the man's eyes.

X.X.X

"Gentlemen, we'll be landing in twenty minutes," the blonde said and collected their coffee mugs and dinner trays.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Paul said.

"Sir, yes sir," the blonde smiled.

Twenty minutes later, the sleek aircraft touched down on an unmarked airstrip.

Even through the tinted windows, Paul could see the mid-day's heat coming off the New Mexico desert.

"Let's go, Colonel," the General said, motioning toward the door of the aircraft.

Paul walked down the steps, sweat already popping out on his forehead from the oppressive heat. A lone figure stood twenty feet away, holding a smart salute.

"Dwayne?" Paul asked as the smiling black man dropped his arm. "Dwayne Jefferson? But I thought you were dead!"

"Them two mother fuckers using our platoon smuggle their fucking hashish sure the fuck wish I was," Dwayne laughed and hugged his friend. "Turned their fucking asses in then joined up with the Agency."

"But, but," Paul sputtered then burst into tears.

"Aw come on man!" Dwayne laughed, a few of his own tears coming out. "Come on! Be a soldier man! Soldiers don't cry!"

"Oh, and Colonel Dwayne Jefferson also recommended you," Major Thompson said.

"Gentlemen, it is hot out here," General Brady said, gesturing toward the limousine.

The End.

Thank you for reading my stories.