Fly the Rain (15 page)

The two U-Haul trucks he had parked between
were blocking his view of everything to his sides. He got out and
walked to the front of his car to make sure Sondra was still there.
He thought he saw her car, but he wasn’t sure. He decided to take a
closer look.

When he reached Boomer’s room he confirmed
that Sondra’s car was still parked there. But instead of walking
back to his car, he decided to listen at the door.

Suddenly the door opened and he jumped
back.

“
What are you doing here?”
said Sondra.

“
I need to talk to
you.”

She hesitated. “Okay. Come in.”

“
Why don’t you just step out
here for a minute?”

“
No. If you want to talk
then you’ll have to come in here.”

Maybe this was better, he thought. Sondra
would probably lie. Perhaps Boomer would accidentally let something
slip.

Greg stepped into the dark room, and the
door closed behind him. “Could you please turn on a—”

Sondra hit him over the head with a
lamp.

He crumpled to the floor.

**********

“
He’s still not answering.”
Cynthia closed her cell phone. She and E. Z. were standing in the
parking lot at Billy-Eye’s. “Now I’m getting worried.”

“
Where would he have
gone?”

“
He must have followed
Sondra. That’s got to be it. And his phone must be dead.” She was
about to freak out. “Could you give me a ride?”

“
Sure. Where do you want to
go?”

“
I don’t know. Where would
Sondra go?”

**********

Greg gradually became aware of a very loud
noise—possibly the TV. But why was it turned up so loud? And why
was he having so much trouble waking up?

As his vision began to clear, he realized he
head was lying on top of a woman. But it wasn’t Cynthia! What in
the world is going on here? I hope I’m still dreaming, he
thought.

When he raised his head he saw the blood. It
was all over the woman’s upper chest, shoulders, and neck. He
pushed himself up with his hands. That was when he realized that he
and the woman were on the floor. The blood was everywhere—all over
the floor and furniture, in drips and smears and puddles. He
wondered if there was any left in her body.

Then he recognized the woman—it was Boomer,
the bass guitar player. She was completely naked—and so was he! How
did this happen? He got out from between her legs and stood up. He
was still wearing shoes and socks. His pants and underwear were at
his ankles. He looked at her. Surely we didn’t have sex, he
thought. He pulled up his underwear and pants.

How had this happened? And why was the TV
blaring? He picked up the remote and turned it off. Immediately, he
heard somebody knocking on the door. Banging. He quickly wiped his
hands on the bedspread to get most of the blood off and then picked
up his shirt from the floor and put it on. Then he turned off all
the lights and went to the door.

He latched the chain and then opened the
door just a sliver. “Yes?”

The manager was screaming at the top of her
four-pack-a-day hoarse voice. “Are you people crazy—cranking up the
TV full-blast at midnight?

“
I’m very sorry. We must
have dozed off. I think I was lying on the remote. I must have been
accidentally pushing the volume button.”

“
I tried calling you. Why
didn’t you answer the phone?”

“
I don’t know. I guess we
were really zonked-out.”

“
Idiots!” She walked away.
“From now on—keep it down!”

Greg closed the door. Should he call the
police? Or maybe call Cynthia first? She must be wondering what
happen to me, he thought. He found the phone on the floor in a
corner. The wires were missing.

He thought about going to the office to call
the police. But how was this going to look? Boomer was naked and
dead. And his DNA was all over her. They’d probably assume he’d had
sex with her. Oh, Cynthia. How would he explain all this to
her?

Sondra. She obviously killed Boomer. And now
he was sure that she was the one who tried to kill Edsel. She might
be on her way to the hospital to finish him off right now. Or she
might even go after Cynthia.

If he had to take time for the police right
now, Sondra might never be caught. The police interrogation could
wait. And Boomer was beyond help anyway. So, he decided to go after
Sondra. But how would he ever find her? He didn’t know where to
begin to look.

He grabbed Boomer’s purse from the
nightstand and dumped the contents out onto the bed. There was a
wallet, a pack of gum, lipstick, a few receipts, and some tissues.
One of the receipts had something written on the back. He picked it
up. It was an address in Orange. Greg knew the street. It might be
nothing. But it was all he had.

Oh, God, help me, he prayed as he quietly
slipped out the door into the black night.

Chapter
19

When Sondra drove up to the house and
parked, she could see that the living room lights were still on. It
was after midnight. Val was either drunk or asleep in her
recliner—or both.

Sondra unlocked the front
door and walked in. “I hope you didn’t wait up for
me
.”

“
Nope. Just watching
Leave It to Beaver
,” slurred Val.

Sondra glanced at the TV screen to confirm
what she thought her mother had said. She hurried to her bedroom,
quickly packed her suitcase, grabbed her acoustic guitar and headed
back through the living room on her way to the front door.

“
June Cleaver never had
problems with
her
daughter.”

“
Val, the Cleavers didn’t
have any daughters. They just had Wally and The Beaver.”

“
They were
lucky.”

Sondra didn’t have time for this. She was
not going to let her mother drag her into the tired old argument
about what kind of a person her daughter had grown up to be. She
opened the door and carried her suitcase and guitar to her car, and
loaded them into the trunk. She planned to drive far away and never
come back. But as she opened her car door and started to get in,
she realized she would never see her mother again. And she just
couldn’t stand to leave without at least saying goodbye.

When Sondra opened the front door to walk
back inside, she saw Val hanging up the phone.

“
Who were you talking to
at
this
hour?” She had already closed the door behind her when she saw
the gun.

Val picked up the pistol from her lap and
pointed it at her daughter. “I can’t let you leave town.”

“
Val, put that thing down.
You’re drunk.”

“
I called 9-1-1.”

“
Why—to tell them you’re
drunk and you’re playing around with a gun?”

“
Don’t get smart with me,
Young Lady. I called to tell them you killed that boy.”

“
What? Are you out of your
mind?” Sondra regretted that she hadn’t strangled the old woman
when she had the chance. “I told you I didn’t kill him! You’re just
crazy. You think the police are gonna believe a crazy old
woman?”

Val ignored her daughter’s
remarks. “Of course, I know it’s
my
fault you turned out like
this.”

“
Turned out like what? I
don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t make any sense when
you’re drunk, Val.”

“
It all started that night
when Buster killed your dog.”

“
I don’t want to talk about
that. Just put the gun down—please.”

“
Well, that’s not really
true. I guess it started the first time he beat you. He came home
drunk—like he always did on Friday nights, and stepped on one of
your toys in the living room and twisted his ankle. He was always
telling you to pick up your toys. So, he got mad and yanked you out
of bed and whipped you black and blue with his belt. I don’t think
he meant to hit you with the buckle. He probably didn’t even know
he was holding it by the wrong end. And to this day, every time you
look in the mirror and see that scar over your right eye, it must
remind you of that night.”

“
I never even think about
that. Now, put down the gun.”

“
And that wasn’t the last
time he beat you. But then—when he killed your dog…what was that
little dog’s name? Muttly. Yeah, that’s it.”

“
Stop.” Sondra stepped
toward Val, hoping she could snatch the pistol out of her
hand.

Val raised the gun higher. “Get back!”

Sondra slowly moved back to where she had
been standing.

“
Yeah. You had gone off to
school without feeding Muttly, and when your father came home that
night you were at a friend’s house. That little dog was barking
like crazy by the time he got home.”

“
Why didn’t
you
feed
him?”

“
I wanted you to learn a
lesson. It was your job. And I knew Buster would get mad and chew
you out for it.”

“
Thanks,” said Sondra, with
rancorous sarcasm.

“
Yeah. I’ve always felt
guilty about that.” She paused. “But it was what happened
the
next
night that ruined you for life.”

“
It didn’t ruin me. I
wanted
him
dead.”

“
I know you did. And I was
afraid of what you would do,” said Val, beginning to sober up just
a bit.

“
It felt so good when I saw
him sprawled out on the sidewalk with his head busted
open.”

“
But it was wrong. He was a
mean drunk—but he didn’t deserve to die.”

“
Yes, he did.”

“
Well, maybe he did. But now
that I’ve seen what it did to you—it just wasn’t worth it. You’ve
never been the same.”

“
Hey, I learned how to stand
up for myself that night. I knew from then on I would never let
anybody push me around.”

“
It’s my fault. And don’t
think I haven’t lived with the guilt all these years.”

“
Why should you feel guilty?
He beat you too.”

Val looked surprised. “I didn’t think
you…”

“
Of course I knew. How could
I
not
know?
Is that why you never screamed? Because you didn’t want me to
hear?”

Val stared at her in disbelief.

“
I could hear you whimpering
for hours afterwards—while he was snoring. The next day, he’d act
like nothing happened. And so would you. But I knew.”

“
I taught you a lesson
alright. But it was the
wrong
lesson.”

“
After that night everything
was fine.”

“
How can you say that,
Sondra? He
died
. And I’ve never been able to forgive myself. That night is
what made you the way you are.”

“
I don’t know.” Sondra
looked away.

“
It should never have
happened. I should have left him before it got so bad.”

“
Yes, you
should
have. But you
didn’t. And it’s just as well. If we had left him he would have
found some other woman to beat up, and maybe she would have had a
young daughter too. It was better to stop him before he hurt
somebody else.”

“
I knew you were so mad at
him for killing Muttly. You cried all night. And you wouldn’t come
out of your room the next day. I was afraid you’d try to kill him.
But by the time he got home, I thought you were already asleep. I
had no idea you were watching through the window.”

“
Watching and
enjoying
.”

“
Don’t say that. I
didn’t
want
to do it. You make it sound like it was fun.”

“
It
was
fun. It was the most fun I’d
ever had. I saw you squatting down on the porch in the shadows. You
knew he’d be too drunk to notice you there. Then, when he came
walking up the stairs, right as he put his foot on the top step you
jumped up and pushed him backward. And you must have pushed
hard—because he fell back fast. It was the most beautiful thing in
the world. I’ve played it over and over again in slow motion. His
arms were flailing—there was nothing to grab onto. His back hit the
sidewalk first. He might have been paralyzed if he had lived. Then
his big old fat head hit the pavement like a deflated volleyball. I
can still see the blood oozing out all over the sidewalk. If you
look real close you can still see the red stain.”

“
I’ve tried to get it all
up. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve scrubbed that sidewalk
with bleach.”

“
It’s still there.
It’ll
always
be there.”

“
And that’s what did it.
That’s what turned you bad. It was my fault. But I didn’t know you
were watching. I tried to make it look like an
accident.”

“
I know.”

“
I’m sorry, Sondra. But it
has to stop now. I can’t sit by and let you kill anybody else. The
police should be here any minute.”