CHAPTER EIGHT
When the news was broadcast later that night, John Graham was sitting in his comfortable living room with Reba, his wife. They were back on level ground again now that the first of the month money fights were over, and watching the local news was their way of winding down the day.
John was not prepared for what Paula Rogers would be reporting that night....
CHAPTER EIGHT
When the news was broadcast later that night, John Graham was sitting in his comfortable living room with Reba, his wife. They were back on level ground again now that the first of the month money fights were over, and watching the local news was their way of winding down the day.
John was not prepared for what Paula Rogers would be reporting that night. He had decided not to tell Reba anything about the money until is looked like he would be able to keep it. Until they would be able to keep it. He was biding his time, but finding the money had added an incredible pressure to his days, as he had to remember not to say anything about the money, then he had to pretend he didn’t know anything about a robbery, and that he hadn’t visited with and turned evidence over to the police.
Paula Rogers seemed to be trying to change all that. “Look, it’s Greg,” Reba said, pulling on John’s shirt sleeve and turning up the television sound. “It’s that nice Paula Rogers girl reporter, too.”
John had a sudden sinking feeling.
Paula Rogers said “One hundred thousand dollars”.
John could feel the knot growing in his stomach. It felt like an empty pit as he willed the pre-recorded event not to mention his name. Would Greg mention where the evidence had come from?
Paula Rogers said “another Paula Rogers exclusive”.
The lump in his stomach softened a bit. Reba turned to him. “Can you believe that? Right here in our little town. Nothing like that ever happens here.” She looked at him and waited for a response.
“Yeah.”
“Is that all you have to say, ‘Yeah’?” said Reba. “Your friend is on the television helping with a major investigation and you say ‘Yeah’?”
Now he was incapable of speech.
“What’s the matter with you?” Reba inquired, leaning toward the man she had been married to for a quarter century. She sensed there was more than she was being told.
“Uh, maybe Greg will be able to keep the money,” he probed for her reaction.
“Yeah, right,” she laughed. “And maybe he’ll give some to us.”
John Graham laughed too, but it didn’t really sound sincere. He wondered if Reba noticed.
Smitty played the flashlight over the murder scene. There was not much blood, but that didn’t make Mike Shepherd any less dead. From what they could see before the officials arrived there was trauma to the back of the head, probably from a sharp instrument.
“This must be the attendant”, Smitty said to the small crowd of officers gathered around the body. “But what is he doing so far from the booth? Why not just kill him and leave him there? There doesn’t seem to be any indication of dragging a body to this location.”
Three other flashlights played over the ground back towards the station. Zabronsky spoke up first. “Maybe the kid decided to take the money back.”
It was likely what had happened. There was some trauma around the face and hands, like a fight had taken place. “But no one’s life was worth the couple of thousand that was probably stolen,” Smitty thought to himself.
The T-Bone was just one of those greasy spoons along the roadway, but since most places like that served some of the best food around, it was always busy. Paula was glad, since that meant she could work on Greg a bit more seriously than if she had to worry about being overheard.
Approaching the booths which had seats covered with red naugahyde, Greg was ready with his favorite first joke at the restaurant. “Makes you wonder just how many naugas had to die to make this bench,” he said. Paula just smiled. It was Greg’s familiar old saw to help him get comfortable, which meant he was comfortable enough to encourage him a bit. She turned away from sitting opposite him in the booth, and scooted him over into the corner and sat on the same bench with him.
“Will you protect me from the wild naugas that invade the restaurant to avenge their dead brothers?” She leaned in close and wrapped herself around his closest arm.
Greg recognized the approach and slowly disengaged his arm from the entanglement. “You really think I live a life of shoot ‘em up adventure, don’t you? Or are you just making fun of the sedentary life I lead in a one-cop town?
Paula was not to be put off so easily. “A one and a half cop town, Officer Jones,” she said seductively. “A man with all that power is irresistible.”
“You are making fun.” Greg was still taking it good-naturedly. “We can’t all live in the big city with all the big important news reporters, you know. Some of us have to live out here in Hicksville, and protect Ma and Pa Kettle.”
“Don’t start,” she said. “I know you love it here and would never move. So don’t start humoring me with bad-mouthing the people you adore. And who adore you.”
She was right as usual. And this is where the conversations of the past had usually led. She wanted adventure and would probably move from city to city as the affiliates raised her salary and counter-offered each other. He would probably be buried up in the cemetery on the hill after living here his entire life. Greg wanted the conversation to be different tonight, so he decided to take charge of its direction.
“I really do want to thank you for the broadcast,” he said to her as she stared into his eyes. “I think it will really help to flush out whoever robbed the bank. There’s a short guy still out there who will be coming to town to find that money.”
There was a short guy just across town sitting with his mouth open. He, too, had just finished watching Paula Jones reporting on the found money, and even as she trying her hardest to seduce the local police captain, Ray was making other plans for Greg Jones.
So the money was here in town, and the local cops were so kind as to keep it safe until Raymond Johnson decided to pick it up. It was almost too easy. This little hamlet couldn’t have more than a few hundred people in it, and that meant the local cop was just a step above the blue-light special cop at the local department store. Ray had enjoyed his past encounters with backwater cops. He had shot a cop or two and could remember the looks on their faces when they realized they were not the fastest draw in the West, that the warm feeling running across their clothes was their own blood, and as they dropped down on their knees, the look of disbelief that crossed their faces just before they died was almost comical. Ray wondered why people, who were pretty easy to kill actually, were so surprised when they found out they were dead.
Maybe someday, he would spend time for the murders he had committed. But he wasn’t above a few more murders before the sentence. He also decided that the risk of getting caught doing this murder was very slim. Probably the state cops wouldn’t even bother to investigate. What did he have to lose, besides 100 grand?
By the time desert came, Paula had messed up Greg’s hair a few times, and by the looks the locals were giving him, they were probably enjoying it more than him.
“Paula…”
“Greg, it’s all right,” she cooed into his ear. “We’re both above the age of consent, and this is nothing most of these people haven’t seen before.”
“I was going to say, let’s go somewhere more private.” Greg’s eyes met hers, and the surprise in her eyes made him laugh out loud. “Sorry, I guess this is kind of sudden.”
Paula didn’t need to be asked twice. She was gathering up her purse as she commented to Officer Jones on his speed. “Yeah, this is really a sudden change of mood, after two years of me chasing you shamelessly, now you are sitting there shamelessly and letting me chase you.”
Greg laughed again. “You’re right. You are the world’s most patient woman. I’m sorry it’s taken two years for me to come around.”
He flipped a twenty on the table and they practically dashed out of the diner.
Anyone investigating Officer Greg Jones house at 11:30 that night would have had an interesting report to file. It would have begun with two people writhing together on the couch. The passion was building, and Paula could feel the objections melting that had stood in her way for two years.
Greg was also aware of the passion that smoldered beneath him. Paula was doing all she could to go slow, because this obviously was not Greg’s usual nightcap. He was being careful, far too careful, but being a patient woman, she was able to wait a few moments more.
A dark figure passed outside the house, and almost tried to twist the front door knob. But then he heard a moan from within the darkened house and he froze in his footsteps, waiting and holding his breath. When he heard some more noise from inside of the house, he lightly stepped off the front porch and left quickly, but as quietly as he had approached.
Inside the house, Paula Jones had decided to speed things up a bit. She grabbed Greg’s broad shoulders and twisted him onto the floor. He was surprised by the sudden movement, but didn’t fight, and rolled onto the carpet with Paula on top of him. Then she raised up, as their hips stayed together.
“Not your usual date, I’m guessing by the shocked look on your face,” Paula said.
“I definitely think I’m in unknown territory here,” he confessed. “Thanks again for bringing the show to town,” he said, but this time he was not referring to the broadcast.
She leaned down slowly and kissed him lightly, then rose back up again, still sitting across his waist. “Glad to oblige”, she whispered. “I’ve visited enough these past two years, it’s about time we got down to business.”
“Thanks for coming to my town to share,” Greg said slowly. He pulled her down towards him. Paula had a strange look on her face, and hesitated. Then Paula leaned back slowly and said, “What was that?”
“I’m just grateful you’ve been so patient with me,” he said, rising up on his elbows. Something was not quite right.
Paula stood up, and he was left lying on the floor.
“No,” she said. “What did you just say about sharing?”
Greg stopped and looked up.
“All I said was I was grateful.”
Paula stepped back. “You said you were grateful I was sharing. What did you mean?”
“I’m not very good at this, am I?” he apologized. “You must be used to guys who are a little more smooth.”
Paula was now at least 3 feet away, and Greg was left kneeling in the middle of the room by himself. She straightened her blouse and pulled at her jeans.
“What did I say?”
Paula turned around and tried to gather her thoughts. This was not turning out how she had hoped, and she was sure this was not what Greg had planned for this evening either.
She sat down on a nearby chair.
Greg was still unsure what he had done. Now it was his turn to bow his head and wonder how to rescue this night.
He could hear her sobbing quietly. He went over and tried to comfort her as best he could, wondering what he could do to make this better. Sitting beside her, he let her have a good cry, during which she turned and sobbed on his chest while he drew her close.
“Let’s just call it a night. I’ll take you back to your motel.” Greg could feel her head nod slightly, and he also heard a sigh. It sounded like a sigh of relief, which made him sigh with relief, too.
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Chapter Eight
