Deadly Compromises by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview
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Chapter 12
Kelly was disappointed, but didn’t want to show it. She wanted to look around the house for anything that looked unusual.
She wished that Bobby had warned her about this procedure. She then thought that she should have surmised it herself. She could stay at the motel alone or barge in on one of her friends. She thought the best thing to do was to stay at the motel alone and think this whole thing through again. But she decided she wanted company. She drove to his house, circling around a bit, to see if she could detect anyone following. She didn’t see anything, but considered that they were possibly good at it. She drove up to the casita. It was four rooms, one bath and looked like no maintenance had been performed in ten years. It was on a couple of acres, mostly covered with scraggly, uncut grass and weeds that had begun to turn brown. Between twenty and thirty large trees were randomly placed.
She parked the car and knocked at the door. It opened and she saw the graying, long haired man for the first time in a year. He was about 42 now, still thin, but with health problems.
He smiled at her and said; “Kelly, you never did have any manners. What brings you here now?”
“George, are you alone?”
“Just about all the time now,” laughing a bit. “Seriously, it’s great to see you. Come on in.”
“George, I’ve got to tell you right now that I might have just brought you into a murder investigation. I’m the primary suspect, so the cops might be following me.”
“What are friends for? Some people just never change.
What did you get into this time?”
“Well, let me go in and sit down. I’ll tell you all about it.”
The house was a typical 80 year old casita: adobe walls painted in pastels, brick floors, Spanish tiling in the kitchen and bath and exposed beams which showed evidence of old roof leaks. George’s improvements were a lot of Native American style throw rugs, utilitarian furniture of all sorts, probably purchased at Goodwill and original paintings by some people no one ever heard of. The most prominent thing was a stereo system sitting in a bookcase and four large speakers in each corner of the main room. It suited him.
She sat on the couch. “Somebody shot and killed Alan.”
Just then, his Dalmatian, named Daisy, came bounding over.
She was now about ten years old and didn’t do much bounding anymore. Daisy elevated to the couch, walked over to Kelly and started licking her face. Kelly smiled. “Daisy, it’s been a while, you still remember me?” Daisy continued licking. Kelly gave her a kiss on the mouth and a big cuddle. She said; “Some things never change.”
George said, “Somebody shot and killed Alan? Did you come here to celebrate?”
Kelly laughed, but merely said; “No, I just need a place to stay for a while. He was shot right in the house, so now that’s a crime scene and the cops tell me I can’t stay there.”
“When did this happen?”
“Tonight.”
“Did you see it?”
Kelly didn’t anticipate that question and was mildly irked.
She shot back; “No. When did you become a cop? I just had to go through this conversation with them. I was driving around, came home and found his body, end of conversation.”
George was conciliatory and offered; “Sorry. Shit, Kelly, how come everything weird happens to you?”
“I don't know. Can I stay here until they let me go back home?”
With a grin and a certain inflection, he said; “You know I don’t mind that at all.”
“Forget that. I’ll sleep on the couch. No offense intended.”
Daisy jumped off the couch and her left front paw buckled.
Kelly said; “Is she all right?”
“I had her to the vet two weeks ago. She’s torn a muscle pretty badly. He said that she needs surgery that will cost seven or eight hundred dollars and I just don’t have it. Kelly, could you? She’s in pain.”
“Just like old times.”
He smiled. “As you said, some things never change.”
She returned the smile and said; “Sure. If they don’t put me in jail I’ll be pretty well off.” She remembered the days right after college when she, George, Arlene, Mikey and Lucy decided to move their “commune” to Castillo. Many others stayed
there temporarily, too, but we five were the core. Her biggest memory was of smoking a lot of grass, doing some acid, listening to loud rock music and begging her father for money whenever the
“commune” needed it. She was very fond of this time. Peace, love, a new, better way of living and a feeling in her heart that everything would soon be right in the whole world. She expected it to go on forever.
“Thanks, Kelly, you really are an angel.”
Considering his stated financial situation, she queried,
“Have you been selling any of your songs?”
“It’s been tough lately. You know I sold a few in the past, but nobody ever had a hit with any of them. I think the artists and producers now have me on the pariah list. Nowadays, everyone’s interested in rap. I don’t write that and I think the rappers virtually make it up on the spot.”
“So, how do you make a living?”
George extended his arm and let the wrist go limp. He clucked his tongue and said; “Interior decorating and design.”
They both laughed out loud.
He continued; “People here think I’m some kind of weirdo artist. So some people with money to spend want a unique
kitchen. I spend days staring at their kitchens in different lights and talk artsy. When I sense that they’re getting tired of the act, I go to work and provide them with a unique kitchen.
It’s easy. I get the materials cheaply from a pal of mine. He makes stuff out of old wood, paints it and then leaves it outside to add cachet. I get paid well when I do work, but that’s not that often. Oh, the hell with me, Kelly, what are you going to do now?”
“I’m still in shock, so I’ll be thinking that through for I don't know how long. You know that both my parents are dead. I have no brothers or sisters and my only real friends are you guys. I’ll have enough money. I can’t imagine ever moving away from the old crowd and I like it here in Castillo.”
He put his hand on her forearm, smiled and said; “You might need a special friend, just like me.”
Kelly brushed his hand away and replied; “Oh, George, just cut it. It was great while it lasted, but that was over years ago. Don’t bring that up again, or I’ll go to Arlene’s.”
“You can’t blame me for trying. You know you were always the special one to me. Hey, you’re beautiful, rich and the most interesting person I ever talked to.”
Kelly said; “And I really do appreciate that. I’d feel terribly old if you didn’t flirt with me and I’ll always have great memories. But, seriously, just cut it.”
“I promise.”
“My biggest problem right now is surviving this murder investigation. The wife is always the first suspect and the cops are going to try to catch me in contradictions. I made one already. I don’t want another.”
“What did you say?”
“Oh, it’s just bullshit. Some people seem to think that it’s your duty to know the precise time you leave home and come back, the exact balance in your checking account, where you hang your jacket, the price of eggs, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.
My mind gravitates to more interesting things.”
George made eyes at her and they both laughed. He said; “I guess these are the biggest deals in their lives.”
“If you can call it a life.”
“Is ours a life?”
“I don't know, but it’s at least not a death. Hey, George, put some head music on and let’s sit here quietly. I want to space out.”
“Want a joint?”
“Yeah, some things never change.”
George put on King Crimson. They shared a joint and in about two hours, they were both asleep, sitting up on the couch.