The Good Neighbor - Bettes Kimberley A. - Страница 19
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“Yeah, but he brings those bags out in the daylight. He knows we watch him. He knows we watch him take white trash bags to the curb like everyone else on this street, and then take heavy, black trash bags somewhere else. That’s being pretty obvious. If he was really doing something wrong over there, I’d like to think that he’d be smarter about it than that. He’d do it at night, or find a way to dispose of the bodies in a way that no one would ever see him and think maybe he’s doing something wrong.”
“Like how? How could he get rid of bodies without leaving his house? Bury them in his back yard?” Andy asked, snorting as if it were a crazy idea. Then, he said, “Dorothea Puente buried her murder victims in her back yard and she got caught. And she was old, by the way. And a woman. So don’t underestimate the strength of the elderly.”
I thought for a second, and then said, “I don’t know. There’s an empty house beside him. Maybe he could bury them next door in the back yard. It would be years before anyone ever found them – if they ever found them at all – and by then, he’d have moved...or be dead. It’s brilliant.” I looked at Andy, watching the expression on his face to see what he thought of that idea. The look on his face was nearly impossible to gauge.
We were silent for a while. It was funny that no matter what was happening, we were comfortable enough with each other to just sit in silence. Even if in that silence we were contemplating death and murderers and ways to hide bodies.
Finally, Andy said, “I’d still like to know what he’s doing over there.”
I started to interject, but all I got out was, “Andy—“
“Look, I’m never going to be able to forget about it until I know. If he is killing people, don’t you want to stop him? Can you live with yourself if you see him arrested one day, after the body count has grown, and realize that you could’ve done something to stop it? I can’t.” Andy saw me pondering his words and quickly continued, figuring this was his chance to pull me onto his side of the fence on the issue. “If he’s doing nothing wrong, I’ll completely let it go. I promise. But I have to know, Owen.”
I stared at Jenson’s house and thought about what Andy said. I knew he wouldn’t let it go until he knew.
I sighed deeply and said, “Fine.”
25 Bernie
When I awoke, I could tell it was late morning. The black sheet that covered the bedroom window held back the light, but I could feel that it wasn’t early. Hell, I hadn’t seen early in so long, I couldn’t even remember what it looked like.
I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. I tried to count the roaches, but they ran so fast, I kept losing track of which ones I’d already counted and which ones I hadn’t. I gave up. It was easier to count the stains on the ceiling. They didn’t move. In my former life, I would’ve had the roof replaced before it had a chance to leak. But that was then. This was now. And now, I didn’t care.
I lay there thinking about the broad next door. She was almost all I ever thought about now. I couldn’t get her out of my head. The way her ass moved in her shorts. The way her shirts clung to her tits. Everything about her made me want her more. I knew she wanted me just as much as I wanted her. And it wouldn’t be long until we both got what we wanted.
I’d gone over and scoped the place out after midnight. I was both disappointed and satisfied. I was disappointed that I couldn’t see in any of the windows. The curtains were all pulled tightly.
She was teasing me.
I was even more disappointed to find all the windows and doors locked.
She wanted me to work for it.
I was satisfied that it wouldn’t take much to get into her house. The back door was old and thin and the lock was flimsy. Piece of cake. I could probably even make it all the way to her bed without her hearing me.
I smiled as I imagined how surprised she’d be when I slid into bed next to her. I laughed when I thought of the things I was going to do to her.
I was more aware of the protrusion in my underwear than of anything else. It ached. The urge to take care of it was strong, but I had to fight it. If I left it alone, it would be so much more intense while I was banging her. If I took care of it now, it would still be great, I had no doubt. But it wouldn’t be as great. And I had waited so long. I wanted to get as much out of it as I could.
It was hard to resist the urge to reach down and take matters into my own hands, but what fun would that be? It certainly wouldn’t be as good as giving it to the broad next door. And I was dying to give it to her. The things I wanted to do to her...
No. I would wait. It wouldn’t be much longer now. It couldn’t be much longer. I wouldn’t let it be much longer.
I was going to have her and soon.
26 Owen
I was nervous, and I was sure Andy was too. We walked casually across the street to Jenson’s house, trying our best to appear normal. We didn’t want people to think we were doing anything other than simply stopping in to see an old man. Essentially, that’s what we were doing. We were stopping in to see him, though what we really wanted to see was what he was doing inside his house. I wasn’t expecting to see anything, but I knew Andy was. So to pacify him, I agreed to visit Jenson.
I would’ve never agreed to such a thing if I hadn’t picked up on Andy’s growing need to know. It was really more than just a need now; it was more than a desire even. It seemed to be inching closer to becoming an obsession. I hoped that once he was satisfied that Jenson wasn’t a killer, he’d let it go.
I rang the doorbell and waited. On Andy’s face, I saw a strange combination of nervousness and excitement.
I had to ring the doorbell again. Just before I rang it a third time, the door opened.
We stood face to face with Jenson. There was no turning and leaving now.
“Yes?” he asked. His voice was frail, not at all what I’d been expecting it to be. “Can I help you boys?”
Andy was clearly as taken aback by the friendly voice and the lack of calculating eyes he’d been expecting. When I saw that Andy was too shocked to speak, I did.
“Mr. Jenson, we live across the street from you, and we decided it was time to visit. Maybe get to know you. We feel terrible that we haven’t done this sooner.”
Jenson looked at us, looked across the street at our houses, and then back to us. He nodded, then turned and walked into his house, leaving the door open. We took that as a cue to follow him.
Without looking back at us, he said, “You boys sit on the couch there and I’ll get us something to drink.”
We looked around, taking note of anything out of the ordinary.
Everything seemed normal. A faded couch with a floral print, a matching loveseat, and a well-worn tan recliner were positioned around a wooden coffee table. There were lamps on end tables, coasters on the coffee table, throw pillows on the couch, and a television in the corner. There were rugs on the floor and pictures on the wall. It all seemed perfectly normal to me.
We sat on the couch as instructed and waited for Jenson to return. He came in quietly carrying a wooden tray. After sitting it on the coffee table in front of us, he sat in the recliner.
“Sorry, boys. That’s all I’ve got. I don’t get company around here, so I don’t keep the kitchen stocked for such occasions.” When we hesitated, he added, “It won’t hurt my feelings any if you don’t want it.”
I looked at the tray. There were two cups of milk and a plate of oatmeal cookies. I saw nothing wrong with this spread. He did more for company than I did, and I had visitors far more often than him.
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