Hell's Titties by Bevan Robert & Wetherell Steve

Author:Bevan, Robert & Wetherell, Steve [Bevan, Robert]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2017-08-19T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

It was already shaping up to be a long morning for Roger, and after a long night, that was the last thing he needed. He’d been called out to at least three ‘monster’ attacks the previous evening, and not a one of the callers had been sober enough to make a coherent statement. Now it seemed he was dealing with a similar kind of nonsense.

“Mrs. Dunleavy, you’re not going to tell me your husband was kidnapped by monsters, are you?”

Mrs. Dunleavy had a puckered, squinting expression that put most people in mind of a monkey shoving its head through an asshole. The fact that she was still only dressed in a mercilessly revealing night dress did not make her any easier to look at. “Hell no, not a monster,” she said. “He was kidnapped by some big-tittied ho.”

Roger put his fingers to his tired eyes and quickly caught himself. He didn’t want Mrs. Dunleavy to think he was tried. She might invite him into her doublewide for coffee. He shuddered as he reconsidered the phrase ‘invite him into her doublewide.’

“I’m not sure I understand you, Mrs. Dunleavy. You say your husband was—”

“Out on the porch, drinking, like he usually does. Next thing I know, he’s walking away hand in hand with a real-to-life supermodel, and she ain’t wearing a stitch.”

“So, your husband was drinking?”

“Yup.”

“And had you been drinking?”

“Hell no, I haven’t touched a drop in years. Not the hard stuff, anyway.”

“Mrs. Dunleavy, is it possible that your husband…uh…merely left with a sex worker?”

“A whut?”

“A…uh… lady of the night?”

“A whut?”

“A whore, Mrs. Dunleavy. Did your husband just wander off with a whore?”

Mrs. Dunleavy cackled. “Not unless he won the lotto without telling me. This weren’t no local dick bait, Roger. This lady had class. Looked like one o’ dem skinny California bitches from the music videos. She looked like a million dollars, and that nine hundred thousand of those dollars had gone straight into her tits.”

Roger pretended to take notes in his pad. “So, what makes you think this was a kidnapping?”

“Honey, I keep my fella’s stomach full and his balls empty. He ain’t got no reason to be sniffing around elsewhere.”

Roger smiled politely. “I tell you what, Mrs. Dunleavy— seeing as your husband hasn’t been missing for forty-eight hours yet, I can’t file an official missing person report. But I promise I’ll have the boys keep an eye out.”

“Thank you, Sheriff.” Mrs. Dunleavy ran a hand seductively up and down the doorframe of her trailer. She leaned in close, and Roger caught a whiff of cigarettes and Lysol. “Sure I can’t persuade you to come in for some coffee.”

Roger hoped that his smile adequately masked the terror in his eyes. “No, thank you, ma’am, but I got plenty to look into today.”

Mrs. Dunleavy leaned over conspiratorially. “You talking about the monster?”

Roger sighed. It looked like the local rumor mill was already grinding away. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mrs. Dunleavy.”

“Well you best get informed, boy,” the old lady snapped.

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