The Midnight Lady and the Mourning Man by David Anthony

Author:David Anthony [Anthony, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-03-19T00:00:00+00:00

Driving back to town, I felt uneasy about the aggressiveness of this marauder. No more did I enjoy the sensation that he was blundering along behind me, pillaging the houses of suspects I uncovered. If this were true, Eddie Bell’s domicile would be next on his list. So I skirted Jordan City, operating purely on a hunch, and took the country road that led to Bell’s renovated farmhouse.

An old green MG was parked in the driveway, but that meant nothing to me. I walked up on the porch and knocked. No one stirred. The door was open, but the screen was latched, and the hallway inside looked as cool as a cave. I knocked louder, with the same results, so I left the porch and followed a flagstone path that led around the house. At the rear corner the path passed through a grape arbor. Thick old vines and new leaves made substantial walls and a snug roof overhead. Halfway through the arbor, I was immobilized by a laugh that cut like a jagged silver knife through the fabric of the afternoon. Parting the vines, I had a clear view of Eddie Bell’s patio forty feet down the slope. I was witness to a spectacle.

It was Madge Bell who had laughed, Carl Metterman who had provoked it, and the reason the laugh had sounded so alien to the day was because it was an expression of pure erotic feeling. The two of them were entwined on a chaise longue in the sun, naked to the waist, both of them blonde, tan, oiled, their limbs writhing. Madge was wearing the bottom half of a bikini, and Carl was in slacks. Compared with her tanned body, her breasts were like white tennis balls. Carl was feasting on them, and she had both hands buried in his hair, murmuring to him. No wonder they hadn’t heard my knock. Now I knew why it behooved Madge to label Carl a queer to her husband. For a moment I stood entranced, an unwitting voyeur to the lascivious scene. His hands prowled over her, caressing her rump. Her thighs coiled around one of his.

Aware that I was beginning to feel a little goatish, I turned away and retraced my steps back through the arbor and around to the front porch. I had no qualms about interrupting their sticky embrace. Using the butt of my gun, I knocked on the door with a vigor that must have raised dust in the attic. I paused, giving them time to emerge from the carnal depths, then knocked again. Presently I heard the sliding glass doors, bare feet patting across the living room, and Madge appeared behind the screen. She had popped her breasts into a flimsy little halter composed of two cups and some cord, and she wore sunglasses.

“My, if it isn’t Officer Butler. And so handsome in his uniform. I’m sorry to report that Eddie isn’t in. He’s already gone to work.”

“That’s all right,” I said. “I’d just as soon talk with you, anyway.

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