Outlaw - Part Three

Part One | Part Two

***

With Thanksgiving fresh in memory and December right around the corner, the weather had gotten cold. The kind of cold that made you put on a scarf and also pull up the collar of your jacket. The kind that made every breath you exhaled look like you’re running on gasoline. I remember this one Thanksgiving Eve – I was a pup of no more than fourteen. It had been around the time I started to grow a stash and to notice that girls of my age were starting to grow breasts. And also, the time I started to smoke. To my bad luck, one of our neighbors spotted me puffing one while on my way back from school. I was walking home the girl I had a crush on – I still love you, Shawshana – and I wanted to impress her with how much of a grown-up I was. As expected, the neighbor told on me and when I got home, my folks were waiting for me in the kitchen. My old man had his belt out, ready to set things right. In a spark of intelligence that would later come to characterize yours truly, I told them that I wasn’t smoking but simply exhaling. It was all about the cold weather. And besides, Missus Stevenson was an old woman with a questionable eyesight. I got away with it and I had that to be thankful for that year, which was more than I could account for this time around.

It was cold and Missus Crane had on nothing but a red dress with long sleeves and quite a cleavage. I offered her my jacket – half-hearted, to be completely honest – and when she refused for the third time in a row, I pulled up my collar and lit one up.

We got to talking. She told me of events that seemed important to her and I nodded like I was being paid to. It crossed my mind that I would make a great psychologist. She kept looking back over her shoulder and I had in mind to ask her why, but I never got around to doing it. It must’ve been the booze flooding my mind with nasty images and pumping my prick full of blood. And when I thought better about it, it was well past midnight and the street was deserted. If I hadn’t been so mesmerized by her presence, I would’ve double-checked my six too. But not tonight. I was safe, for she had came for me and I could feel only relief. We were going to be ju-

***

It must’ve been the first hours of the morning when I came to my senses. I had no recollection of what had happened and that didn’t surprise me one bit. I had been knocked out cold countless times before and it had taught me one thing: you always woke up to a dead end. No memories, no flashbacks to elucidate the great mystery. Nothing. The only things you woke up with were a nasty headache and, hopefully, your clothes on (one time I came to my senses in an empty elevator in my underpants only, but that’s a story for another time).

Head-splitting migraine? Check. Clothes still on? Check and say thank you Lord Almighty for that. I went through my pockets and found everything in its own place. Good. All that was missing was Missus Serena Crane.

I had no recollection of what had happened but it didn’t take longer than a few seconds for the pieces to fall into place. The blow had sobered me up and now I could see the whole jigsaw. There had been a stench under the excessive amounts of expensive perfume Missus Crane had had on the night before. She reeked of trouble and I had been too drunk to smell it. She had mentioned her husband being an older gentleman and these types had a way of doubting just about everything. If he was indeed as rich as she said, he would’ve hired somebody; a henchman with the physique of an ape and the brain of a pigeon to follow her day-in, day-out. Trophy wives had a way of getting bored of luxury and fortune and could be easily… distracted. He must’ve seen us together and decided I was a threat.

Missus Crane was most likely in her bed right now. Tucked in her expensive, silky sheets. Snoring softly as the first lights of the morning caressed her cheeks. There was also the possibility of her being somewhere in a ditch. Wrapped up in an old carpet that would soon stink like an open casket. Her lifeless eyes staring into nothing as stray dogs sniffed at her feet.

The possibilities were grim and endless. I felt like kicking myself in the crotch: I had been so soaked in booze and absorbed by her looks that I had forgotten to ask for her contact information. Had I done that, the answer to the question is she alive and well would have been just a phone call away. With things the way they were, I would have to actually get off my ass and do some detective work to track her down. That was going to be a sort-of welcome change of pace, for the cases I normally took (the old I think he/she is cheating on me) didn’t require a lot of legwork from my part.

Alright, I would get to work – but not before I had a couple of hours of sleep. My head felt like it had been put through a wood chipper and I had to get some rest, if I was going to be of any help to Missus Serena Crane. My apartment was a couple of blocks away, so I started walking.