Cold Bullets and Hot Babes: Dark Crime Stories by Arlette Lees Page B
Authors: Arlette Lees
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floor, and came to rest in the darkness beneath the pool table.
In my effort to become invisible I found myself wedged between the pinball machine and the wall. Bell spotted me and the rage that had simmered behind closed doors boiled over for all the world to see.
She pulled me from my hiding place by the ears and threw me to the floor, the stiletto heel of her silver shoe aimed at my heart. I rolled aside in time to see the heel crack away from the sole when it punched the concrete floor.
Out of the corner of my eye I could see Mike yelling into the phone. A frantic crowd had gathered around Cal and girls in tight jeans and cowboy boots were huddled together crying, screaming or looking on in stunned disbelief.
I dove under the pool table like an Olympic athlete. Bell grabbed my foot and my tenny came off in her hand. A trio of Jack Daniels bottles crashed to the floor when she sailed it over the bar.
Robby leaped on her back, a bronco buster on his first mustang. The blonde wig toppled off and I screamed. There was the old Bell, the cruel rictus of her mouth, the severe school-marmish bun. She bucked Robby into the wall and dragged me toward her by the cuff of my jeans. Hands around my throat, she hobbled upright on her uneven shoes, lifting me off the floor by my neck.
Pastor Blevins’ bulk appeared like an avenging angel, Mike’s bat gripped in his giant paws. He pulled back his swing, like The Babe before he lost himself in the booze. The bat pole-axed Bell behind the knees. CRUNCH! Home run. She dropped like an empty sack and I tumbled half conscious to the floor. Bell lay in a whimpering bundle, lipstick smeared grotesquely across her face, black lace stockings in shreds.
I wobbled to my feet, clutching my tortured Adam’s apple, watching the room come back into focus.
Cal!
“How long before that ambulance gets here?” yelled Pastor Blevins.
“It ain’t comin’” called Mike. “They only got one and it’s out to the Granger farm. They’ll send over Sheriff Gunderson as soon as they figure out what strip club he’s at.”
I walked over and knelt beside Cal. Someone had unbuttoned his shirt.
“Hold on, Cal. It’s only a little hole. Hardly any blood at all.”
He reached over with great difficulty and took my hand. “There isn’t any air in this room,” he said.
“For God’s sake, would somebody open the doors!” I cried.
“Your hand is so warm. Only eight more years,” he whispered, with a wink. “Then we’re going to....” The light faded from his blue eyes and there was no longer anyone home behind them.
I don’t know why I still loved Cal, knowing he was in on the whole plot from the get-go. If he hadn’t hooked up with the wrong woman things might have worked out for him. In the end he made the right decision. He chose me over Bell and it had cost him his life. I kissed him on the cheek and let go of his hand. There was one more thing I needed to do.
I knelt on the grimy floor where Bell lay crumpled like a broken doll. I wasn’t good at hanging onto hate and I let it all go.
“Who are you?” I asked. “Where did you come from?”
She looked at me like a mental patient in fugue and struggled to get the words out.
“After all the aliases, and all the towns, and all the scams...how the hell should I know?”
Bell gave an ugly laugh
“You were my one mistake, Abby. I should have knocked you off first.”
During the struggle she’d somehow managed to retrieve the gun. She clenched her jaw and pressed the barrel to my cheek.
“Robby!” I screamed.
Bell gave a derisive snort, jammed the gun into her mouth, and pulled the trigger.
CASH
Women! They were nothing but a game to Cash. Three months of pouring on the charm and Carly was in the bag. They’d done it all nice and legal and quiet; preacher, ring, cozy little out-of-the-way wedding chapel. He was looking forward to tomorrow, when everything she owned was going into both of their names; stocks, bonds,
In my effort to become invisible I found myself wedged between the pinball machine and the wall. Bell spotted me and the rage that had simmered behind closed doors boiled over for all the world to see.
She pulled me from my hiding place by the ears and threw me to the floor, the stiletto heel of her silver shoe aimed at my heart. I rolled aside in time to see the heel crack away from the sole when it punched the concrete floor.
Out of the corner of my eye I could see Mike yelling into the phone. A frantic crowd had gathered around Cal and girls in tight jeans and cowboy boots were huddled together crying, screaming or looking on in stunned disbelief.
I dove under the pool table like an Olympic athlete. Bell grabbed my foot and my tenny came off in her hand. A trio of Jack Daniels bottles crashed to the floor when she sailed it over the bar.
Robby leaped on her back, a bronco buster on his first mustang. The blonde wig toppled off and I screamed. There was the old Bell, the cruel rictus of her mouth, the severe school-marmish bun. She bucked Robby into the wall and dragged me toward her by the cuff of my jeans. Hands around my throat, she hobbled upright on her uneven shoes, lifting me off the floor by my neck.
Pastor Blevins’ bulk appeared like an avenging angel, Mike’s bat gripped in his giant paws. He pulled back his swing, like The Babe before he lost himself in the booze. The bat pole-axed Bell behind the knees. CRUNCH! Home run. She dropped like an empty sack and I tumbled half conscious to the floor. Bell lay in a whimpering bundle, lipstick smeared grotesquely across her face, black lace stockings in shreds.
I wobbled to my feet, clutching my tortured Adam’s apple, watching the room come back into focus.
Cal!
“How long before that ambulance gets here?” yelled Pastor Blevins.
“It ain’t comin’” called Mike. “They only got one and it’s out to the Granger farm. They’ll send over Sheriff Gunderson as soon as they figure out what strip club he’s at.”
I walked over and knelt beside Cal. Someone had unbuttoned his shirt.
“Hold on, Cal. It’s only a little hole. Hardly any blood at all.”
He reached over with great difficulty and took my hand. “There isn’t any air in this room,” he said.
“For God’s sake, would somebody open the doors!” I cried.
“Your hand is so warm. Only eight more years,” he whispered, with a wink. “Then we’re going to....” The light faded from his blue eyes and there was no longer anyone home behind them.
I don’t know why I still loved Cal, knowing he was in on the whole plot from the get-go. If he hadn’t hooked up with the wrong woman things might have worked out for him. In the end he made the right decision. He chose me over Bell and it had cost him his life. I kissed him on the cheek and let go of his hand. There was one more thing I needed to do.
I knelt on the grimy floor where Bell lay crumpled like a broken doll. I wasn’t good at hanging onto hate and I let it all go.
“Who are you?” I asked. “Where did you come from?”
She looked at me like a mental patient in fugue and struggled to get the words out.
“After all the aliases, and all the towns, and all the scams...how the hell should I know?”
Bell gave an ugly laugh
“You were my one mistake, Abby. I should have knocked you off first.”
During the struggle she’d somehow managed to retrieve the gun. She clenched her jaw and pressed the barrel to my cheek.
“Robby!” I screamed.
Bell gave a derisive snort, jammed the gun into her mouth, and pulled the trigger.
CASH
Women! They were nothing but a game to Cash. Three months of pouring on the charm and Carly was in the bag. They’d done it all nice and legal and quiet; preacher, ring, cozy little out-of-the-way wedding chapel. He was looking forward to tomorrow, when everything she owned was going into both of their names; stocks, bonds,
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