Thomas H. Cook's True Crime by Thomas H. Cook

Author:Thomas H. Cook
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: MysteriousPress.com/Open Road
Published: 2017-07-27T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER

3

Boney and Claude

THEY WERE ON the road again, this time headed south, toward Macon. It had been a wild few days. Several months before, someone had called them Bonnie and Clyde, but they’d agreed that they were more like a comedy version of that infamous couple. Later, they’d even come up with a new name for themselves, “Boney and Claude.” But now, after all they’d done in Rome, they were coming close to the real thing. Shootings, firebombings. That was one way to show people you weren’t joking anymore.

But there were other ways, too, and on the way to Macon they hatched a few new plans. In prison he’d been told that if you gave people certain kinds of shots, the cops wouldn’t be able to tell they’d been murdered, so they stopped at a drugstore and picked up a few diabetic needles and a bottle of Liquid Drano and Liquid Plumr.

Once on the road again, he kept his eyes on her brown Dodge as it cruised along in front of him. He liked his own car best, a red Ford Granada that he kept nice and neat. That was one of the differences between them. She was sloppy and unkempt, and her car always looked that way. That was one of the reasons he didn’t want to drive with her anymore. The other was the way she acted, nice at times, then cold, mean. It was as if she would say things just to tick him off. Then the air would suddenly get sharp, and the whole world would start to ache. Traveling separately, and yet together, was one way to keep the pain at bay. It was better to have two cars and just talk to each other over the Cobra CB radios they had installed in each of them.

Once in Macon, they stayed in another crummy little motel, the kind that smelled dank, as if there were pools of stagnant water under the floor. There were times when they hated it, but when that happened, they just moved on. That seemed to help a little, as if the movement, the endless heading down endless roads, was the only thing that relieved the tension that grew around them when they stopped. The road cut them some slack, but only for a while, only until they stopped again at the next motel, another one that looked the same, felt the same, had the same crummy furniture and dank wet smell.

During their first couple of days in Macon, they came up with lots of great ideas, but finally agreed on just one to start with. He sat on the bed next to her when she dialed the phone. When Mrs. Allen answered, she told her that her husband was beating her up and that she needed help. Then she asked Mrs. Allen if she would meet her at her motel. Mrs. Allen said she would drop by the next day at around 5:30. The couple laughed together about how easy it was going to be.

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