Sex, Love and Murder by Semerad Sandy

Author:Semerad, Sandy [Semerad, Sandy]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Books We Love Ltd.
Published: 2012-04-29T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty-two

“You look and smell good enough to eat,” the woman at the gas station said to Ben Comeaux. She was eyeing him in his purple silk shirt and white wool slacks, and he remembered how his late mother used to brag about his appearance: “Faraud comme un paon, dressed up fine like a peacock.”

“What fragrance are you wearing?”

“Georgio,” he answered, hoping his good looks would come in handy when he surprised Lilah Sanderford at Belle Viella.

Thirty-minutes later, he drove up to the turquoise and yellow mansion in La Place, disappointed and shocked to find Officer Clay stationed outside. Poor bastard, Comeaux thought. He’d never seen such a disfigured face on anyone who wasn’t already dead.

Rather than ask Clay how he got to be so damn ugly, Comeaux decided to act official. He showed his badge, then explained his involvement in Duffy’s accident.

Clay seemed convinced. He provided an encyclopedia of information about Lilah calling the police on an intruder and Blasey skipping town under the guise of visiting his sick brother. “Is the Sanderford woman around?” Comeaux asked, knowing she wasn’t because her van was gone. “I need to talk to her.”

Clay yawned. “She said she’d be home by ten.”

Seeing how tired Clay looked, Comeaux got an idea. “Why don’t you go home and catch a few winks. I’ll watch after things till you get back.”

After Clay drove off, Comeaux found the door key in a flower pot and searched the mansion. He went through everything suspicious, including Lilah and Angela’s luggage. The sheer lace bras and bikini underwear made his dick hard, and he decided to jack off, thinking about the Metarie chick he’d rammed a couple of days ago with his nine-inch uncircumcised Cajun kingpin.

After he’d finished, Comeaux thought he heard a car outside, but it turned out to be the wind blowing a broken tree limb across the gravel driveway.

He looked at his watch. It was almost ten, the time Clay said Lilah would be getting back, but Lord only knew what time she’d finally drag in. It would more than likely be a long wait, and he’d best greet her outside in his patrol car to avoid a hissy fit.

By ten thirty, Comeaux was supremely bored. To avoid nodding off, he arranged--in the order he’d received them--all of the e-mails from RUG, the address of the stupid bastard who paid him to investigate Duffy. Comeaux then paper clipped the e-mails in one neat stack. RUG’s most recent message was on top. It said someone would pick up Duffy’s luggage from Comeaux’s house at 1 p.m. Sunday.

Comeaux smelled a setup. Why would anyone but a stupid fuck want Duffy’s stuff, a left-handed guitar, a bunch of poems, underwear, socks, three shirts, two pairs of pants, a smaller bag containing a razor, comb, shaving cream and after-shave lotion?

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.