Read Online Among the Missing by Richard Laymon - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Richard Laymon
Ads: Link
I'd be her when he opened his door this morning."
"Maybe he's a good actor."
"Could be."
"I'll bet you he's involved. One way or another, every motive comes down to sex."
"Even greed?"
"Especially greed. A greedy man is after power. Why does he want power?"
"To improve his sex life?"
"Exactly," Millie said. "If you're rich and powerful, all the luscious young things throw themselves at you. It's always sex. Or the lack of it. So the husband has to be involved one way or another."
"You have a wonderful way of simplifying matters."
"Thank you. Most matters are simple once you cut through the malarky."
"But you're wrong about this. The husband didn't do it."
"Of course he did."
"Bass and Faye saw the killer. And I've met the husband. He doesn't even come close to the guy they described."
"Well then, maybe I'm wrong." She smiled over her shoulder at Rusty. "There's a first time for everything."
When Rusty left home half an hour later, he radioed Madge. "Anything on the Chevy pick-up?"
"It hasn't been spotted, but I ran the tag. The vehicle is registered to Blake Elwood White, three four two Muir Road. No wants or warrants."
"Thanks. Thank you very much."
The trip to Muir Road took him ten minutes. After driving past the small, weathered wooden house, he circled the block. No sign of the pick-up truck.
When he reached the house again, he pulled into its rough dirt driveway. He climbed out of the patrol car, eased its door shut, and started to climb the porch stairs. The climbing sent stabs of pain through his groin and made him wince.
The screen door of the house was off its hinges. The main door stood ajar. From inside came the television sound of a sports announcer. ". . . the two and two pitch. High and outside, ball three."
Rusty knocked on the door frame.
"It's the sheriff," he called.
"Come in if you want," called a woman's raspy voice. "I ain't gettin' up."
Rusty pushed open the door and entered the front room. The woman looked at him over the top of an upraised beer can. She took her time about emptying the can, then set it on the couch beside her. It tipped over. Rusty saw a few drops spill out, darkening the faded green fabric.
"What you up to, law man?" She grinned. Her teeth were crooked and yellow.
"I'm looking for Blake White."
"Come to the wrong place." She took a deep breath that made her T-shirt pull tight across her enormous breasts and belly.
"Where is he?"
"Working over by the wharf. At the boat rental? Want a cold beer?"
"Thanks, but I can't drink on the job."
"Don't say I didn't ask." She lifted her foot off the coffee table, stood, and bitched up her jeans. "Keep an eye on the game, law man."
When she walked to the kitchen, Rusty kept an eye on her. She jiggled as she walked, but she looked powerful. As if plenty of muscle might be hidden somewhere under the layers of fat.
He turned his eyes to the television screen. The Budweiser frogs were waiting to ambush a beer delivery truck.
"What'd Blake go and pull this time?" the woman asked. Her breasts swung and bounced as she walked back from the kitchen with a can of beer in one hand. She dropped onto the couch and fixed her eyes on the television.
"I'm not sure he pulled anything. What's your relationship to Blake?"
"He married me. Best move he ever made." She popped open her can and took a swig.
"Do you have children?"
She swallowed a few more times, then lowered the can and swiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Only just the four."
"Four kids?"
"Yep. Ya ask me, that's enough. How about you?"
"One son."
"Well, one ain't enough. Yer wife die on you?"
"No, she's fine."
"Better get yerselfs some more kids while ya got the chance. Just one, it ain't hardly worth the bother."
Enough of this, Rusty thought. "Is one of your children using the pick-up truck today?" he asked.
"Who knows? Who can keep track? All I know is, the baby's here."
"Who has the pick-up?"
She drank some more beer, then wiped her mouth again
"Maybe he's a good actor."
"Could be."
"I'll bet you he's involved. One way or another, every motive comes down to sex."
"Even greed?"
"Especially greed. A greedy man is after power. Why does he want power?"
"To improve his sex life?"
"Exactly," Millie said. "If you're rich and powerful, all the luscious young things throw themselves at you. It's always sex. Or the lack of it. So the husband has to be involved one way or another."
"You have a wonderful way of simplifying matters."
"Thank you. Most matters are simple once you cut through the malarky."
"But you're wrong about this. The husband didn't do it."
"Of course he did."
"Bass and Faye saw the killer. And I've met the husband. He doesn't even come close to the guy they described."
"Well then, maybe I'm wrong." She smiled over her shoulder at Rusty. "There's a first time for everything."
When Rusty left home half an hour later, he radioed Madge. "Anything on the Chevy pick-up?"
"It hasn't been spotted, but I ran the tag. The vehicle is registered to Blake Elwood White, three four two Muir Road. No wants or warrants."
"Thanks. Thank you very much."
The trip to Muir Road took him ten minutes. After driving past the small, weathered wooden house, he circled the block. No sign of the pick-up truck.
When he reached the house again, he pulled into its rough dirt driveway. He climbed out of the patrol car, eased its door shut, and started to climb the porch stairs. The climbing sent stabs of pain through his groin and made him wince.
The screen door of the house was off its hinges. The main door stood ajar. From inside came the television sound of a sports announcer. ". . . the two and two pitch. High and outside, ball three."
Rusty knocked on the door frame.
"It's the sheriff," he called.
"Come in if you want," called a woman's raspy voice. "I ain't gettin' up."
Rusty pushed open the door and entered the front room. The woman looked at him over the top of an upraised beer can. She took her time about emptying the can, then set it on the couch beside her. It tipped over. Rusty saw a few drops spill out, darkening the faded green fabric.
"What you up to, law man?" She grinned. Her teeth were crooked and yellow.
"I'm looking for Blake White."
"Come to the wrong place." She took a deep breath that made her T-shirt pull tight across her enormous breasts and belly.
"Where is he?"
"Working over by the wharf. At the boat rental? Want a cold beer?"
"Thanks, but I can't drink on the job."
"Don't say I didn't ask." She lifted her foot off the coffee table, stood, and bitched up her jeans. "Keep an eye on the game, law man."
When she walked to the kitchen, Rusty kept an eye on her. She jiggled as she walked, but she looked powerful. As if plenty of muscle might be hidden somewhere under the layers of fat.
He turned his eyes to the television screen. The Budweiser frogs were waiting to ambush a beer delivery truck.
"What'd Blake go and pull this time?" the woman asked. Her breasts swung and bounced as she walked back from the kitchen with a can of beer in one hand. She dropped onto the couch and fixed her eyes on the television.
"I'm not sure he pulled anything. What's your relationship to Blake?"
"He married me. Best move he ever made." She popped open her can and took a swig.
"Do you have children?"
She swallowed a few more times, then lowered the can and swiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Only just the four."
"Four kids?"
"Yep. Ya ask me, that's enough. How about you?"
"One son."
"Well, one ain't enough. Yer wife die on you?"
"No, she's fine."
"Better get yerselfs some more kids while ya got the chance. Just one, it ain't hardly worth the bother."
Enough of this, Rusty thought. "Is one of your children using the pick-up truck today?" he asked.
"Who knows? Who can keep track? All I know is, the baby's here."
"Who has the pick-up?"
She drank some more beer, then wiped her mouth again
Similar Books
