Voodoo Daddy (A Virgil Jones Mystery) (26 page)

An audience.

She stuck her big toe in the water of their built-in pool, more of a ritual than a gage of temperature. The gas heater kept the water at a perfect eighty-five degrees throughout the season. A glance at her wrist watch told her the time, and a slow, almost wicked smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. She undid the tie that held her robe closed and let it fall open, the front of her naked body exposed to the expanse of the back yard and the tree line beyond. When she was sure he was out there—she’d caught just a hint of movement at the corner of the tree line, she let the robe fall to the ground and stood nude, her body his to admire.

As K.C. and the boys would say, Jenny was puttin’ on her boogie shoes.

* * *

The Sids were in place and ready, Junior with the rifle at the edge of the tree line, Senior back near the van, covering the road in case anyone from the Cell company showed up. It was unlikely, but it paid to be thorough. When the woman came out to sunbathe, Junior would take care of business and they’d be out of there.

Nothing to it.

* * *

Jimmy Hamilton had a situation. One of those you’ve-got-to-be-fucking-kidding-me situations. His house—okay, his parents house—sat on the other side of the access road from the Anderson’s. A tree line, much thinner than the one on Mrs. Anderson’s (A.K.A. Hot Babe, A.K.A. Trophy Wife) side separated his yard from the narrow gravel road. You could cross the road in two quick steps, nothing to it. He’d done it twice a day for the last month since school let out. Sometimes three. Both his parents worked, so he was alone during the days. Weekends sucked because Mr. Anderson was home, as were his own parents. But the weekdays were his. His and Mrs. Anderson’s.

Jenny.

Jimmy was naked from the ankles up, the only clothing that covered anything at all on his body of sixteen years was a pair of New Balance sneakers. He had his back and butt pressed tight against the chain link fence that bordered the cell tower’s base and it was starting to hurt. He cursed himself for the foolish, even perverted bravado he had displayed. His shorts were on the other side of the road, his side, where he’d left them before crossing over and into the thicker trees. He should have kept them with him, but over the last month he grown more and more daring as he looked for ways to increase his level of excitement.

The first time he’d seen her laying nude by the pool he was just out exploring the area, looking for a nice quiet place to spark a doob. He crossed the access road and ventured into the tree line, sat on a log and lit up. When he heard the music he walked a little deeper into the trees and that’s when he saw her. She was completely naked, just floating around in the pool on a couple of those foam snakes, one under her arms and one under her knees. Jimmy dropped his doobie, then his shorts. It didn’t take much, six or seven tugs tops before he came and when he did, he let out a moan that caused Mrs. Anderson to raise her head and look at the tree line.

Jimmy froze, an honest to God deer in the headlights freeze. He didn’t know if he should run or not. But then something happened, something that made Jimmy hard again almost immediately. Mrs. Anderson got out of the pool, looked toward the trees, right where he was standing with his Johnson in his hand, and waved at him.

Jimmy had to hold onto a tree with his free hand to keep from falling over.

Over the next few weeks he watched Jenny swim, he watched her exercise, he watched her lay in the sun, he watched her masturbate, and once he watched her blow her husband when he came home from work early. That had been the best.

This was only the third time he had ventured over nude. The last two times he had actually stepped out from the tree line and into her backyard and when he did she immediately started pounding away at herself. When he took a few steps forward toward the pool though, she held up her hand, palm out indicating she wanted him to stop. He guessed it was because of his age.

He guessed right. The next time he showed up there was a hand written note stuck in the branches of the tree he always leaned on. It wasn’t addressed to him, but it was for him. It simply said: You’re too young. I can’t allow anything more. But please keep visiting me. I love to watch and be watched.

Jimmy couldn’t believe it. Sure, he was disappointed that he couldn’t have her, she was hot, hot, hot. Fucking-A perfect, in fact. But the please keep visiting me part? He’d take that in a heartbeat. For now anyway. If he could keep her going for another two years, really only a year and a half, he would be old enough to cross the backyard and go all the way.

But right now, today, he had a problem. A genuine OMFG, shriveled up nutsack sort of problem. He had no sooner begun to cross the road, naked as a Jaybird as his grandma would have said, when he saw the white van creeping along through the turn. He just managed to duck behind the cell tower’s shack—there wasn’t enough time to turn around and dart to his side—as the van came around the bend in the road and made a U-turn right in front of the tower’s perimeter fence. He couldn’t go back and he couldn’t go forward. For the moment, he was trapped.

Naked.

With a boner.

* * *

Junior was close enough she could hear the naked bitch moaning someone’s name. Johnny, or Joey, or something. Couldn’t quite make it out. Not that it mattered. Jesus, she thought as she watched the woman masturbate. What was it with people these days? Bunch of God-damned nuts. She thought about parking one right in her biscuit.

Needed a death shot, though.

Took it, too.

* * *

Jimmy couldn’t take it anymore. He was just about to say fuck it and make a run for his side of the fence when he heard a rustle in the trees to his left. He saw someone moving through, just a shape in the shadows. Then, when she came out of the trees, he peaked around the corner of the fencing and saw her. A woman. A good looking woman at that, and an older man. Not real old though. His dad’s age, maybe. Fiftyish. The woman was carrying a rifle. When they got in the van and drove away, Jimmy realized he’d been holding his breath. He memorized the plate on the back of the van and wondered why the woman had held a rifle? Was it hunting season? Jimmy didn’t know anything about hunting laws, but surely no one would hunt in the suburbs, even ones as secluded as this.

What Jimmy did know about was nature’s law. With his boner still long and strong, Jimmy headed for the edge of the Anderson’s property line. And why not? The van and its strange occupants were gone.

Plus, he hadn’t heard a shot, so what was the problemo? Jimmy thought he’d spray some DNA and be on his way. He was aching for it.

The problemo was, when Jimmy saw Jenny’s dead body and the puddle of blood that leaked from the hole in her head and into the pool, Jimmy sprayed some DNA alright, just not the kind he had hoped. He vomited all over his New Balance sneakers, which coincidentally, did not live up to their name. He lay on the ground for a few seconds, and tried to convince himself what he saw wasn’t real. When he finally managed to stand, covered in puke and leaves and dirt, he started toward is own house. He walked at first, then he started to run. Kept repeating the plate number of the van over and over in his head.

* * *

Sid, Sr. drove them out of the suburbs and into town. Junior looked out the window and thought about her lover, Amanda. They had one more shot to take…this was the big one, and then it would be over. Her and Amanda could be together at last. They already had their place picked out down in the Keys. With the money Amanda had siphoned off over the last few years, they’d be able to live comfortably, though not extravagantly. But that was alright. Anything to be together and out of fucking Indiana.

“Are you listening to me?” Senior said. “How are we doing on time?”

The Governor was holding a press conference to announce his intentions to run for reelection. The media would be there in droves and the entire thing would be captured on television.

“We’re doing good,” Junior said.

“Keep your fucking head in the game. We’re almost through.”

“Interesting choice of words,” Junior said.

“Don’t get all mystical on me now. This is it. After we pop fly boy we’re outta here.”

“You never did tell me where you’re going.”

Senior laughed a wicked little laugh. “I’m going to hell, darling. But I’ll be going via Mexico. You and that crazy cunt still going to the Keys?”

Junior wished she’d never told him where they were going, but she had, so… “Yeah. Leaving tonight. And don’t call her that. We’re in love.”

“That right? Well, that was something about Sermon Sam, though, huh?”

No shit, Junior thought. “Fuck Sermon Sam. Pedophile motherfucker.” Then a minute or so later. “Maybe you’ll see him there. In hell.”

“No maybe about it,” Senior said. “No maybe at all.”

* * *

The Governor’s press conference was being held at the USS Indianapolis Memorial, near downtown, on the east side of the canal walk. The Sid’s parked their van at the back of the lot just north of a medical education building which gave them a clear shot of the podium where the Governor would give his speech. The plan was simple. Take the shot, burn the van, then walk away. They had a getaway car parked in the lot, and Senior had the keys in his pocket. They turned into the lot and drove to the back.

They were right on time.

* * *

Indianapolis Metro Patrol Officer Jonathon Cauliffer drove along Roanoke street and turned his cruiser onto West North street and then hung a left on Walnut. He was in the area where the Governor was going to give his speech and if he took Walnut to the end, right where it met Ellsworth, he could sit in his squad car, eat his sandwich and watch the big guy give his speech. Another day on the job.

Except the traffic was heavy, and there was no real place to park, so Cauliffer turned around and hooked a left and went back north toward the parking lot adjacent to the education building. He’d be able to see just as well. Either way, he’d have his lunch.

* * *

Senior had the van backed in at the rear of the lot which gave him a clear view of the Memorial and the area where the Governor was going to speak. He moved to the back and slid the rear window of the van open just enough to allow the barrel of the rifle to slip through. The lot was virtually empty. They were good to go.

* * *

Cauliffer turned into the mostly empty lot and parked right next to the building. He unwrapped his sandwich, took a quick bite, then set it down on the passenger seat. He unbuckled his seatbelt, turned the volume on his radio down, lowered the window on his squad car and settled in. He was on the last day of his tour before his three days off. Four hours to go. He couldn’t wait.

* * *

The governor stepped up to the podium and turn on his camera smile. “I have a quick announcement to make, and then I’ll take a few questions, if you have any, that is.” The reporters all laughed politely. “Well, as you all probably already know, I am here today to announce my intentions to run for reelection for the office of Governor for the great state of…”

* * *

Senior put the cross hairs on the Governor’s forehead. His finger had just started to pull the trigger when Junior spoke and everything changed. “City cop turning in. He’s parking right next to the building.”

Senior relaxed his finger. “Son of a bitch.”

“Want me to take him?” Junior said. She reached under the seat and pulled the silenced pistol out. “I bet I could get him before he knew what’s what. Just like that state boy.”

“No, no, hold off. Let’s see what he’s doing.”

“Looks to me like he’s eating a sandwich.”

“Maybe today’s not the Governor’s day,” Senior said.

“It has to be today. We don’t have a choice.”

Senior thought about it. It did have to be today. The cops would put it together before too long, and they did not want to be around when that happened. The Governor had flown the plane, everyone knew that. But it was Rhonda Rhodes’ husband, the on-scene Fire Department Commander that wouldn’t let anyone in the hotel after the crash. Elle Richardson’s husband, the City cop had backed him up. Together they let Sara burn. Goodwin’s wife, Tess was the twat that had switched Sara’s schedule to the night shift, otherwise she wouldn’t have even been there that day. And Bob Anderson? That motherfucker worked the tower that morning, so his hot little number of a wife, Jenny, well she had to go too. Now every single one of those cocksuckers would know what it felt like to Sid, Sr., what it still feels like every god damned day of his life.

The weight of it all had been building for such a long time that Sid felt like he might bust. He laid the rifle down, turned and spoke, his voice as hollow as Junior had ever heard. He was always going to tell her, but he was also going to wait until after they were done with the Governor. But now…