Sundown in zion
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
As Nelson
settled into his truck and inserted the key, his cell phone rang. He pulled it
from his pocket and checked the number. He pressed the “talk” button, placed it
into position, listened, and said, “Agent Benson, so nice to hear your voice.
Calling before you leave for services?” He waited, smiled, and said, “A simple
‘no’ would have sufficed,” He listened again. “Tomorrow at 10:00. Got it. Is
this with the Chief himself? Good. I’ll tell him we were fraternity brothers.”
He listened again and then laughed. “I’ll just tell him you owed me a
favor.” He punched the phone and placed
it in his pocket.
Before
leaving, he pulled a folded sheet from his pocket and examined it. Then he
reached into the glove compartment and retrieved a city map of Little Rock. He
studied it for a moment and then jabbed a spot with his finger. He traced route
and placed the map on the seat beside him. Pulling away from the Stubblefield
home, he headed north, and then west.
At first,
he retraced the route he had taken to the University earlier. This time, he
continued west and crossed University Avenue. Then he turned south
and wound his way into a subdivision of middle-class homes. He stopped
alongside a curb and reviewed his map and notes again. He then continued south before
turning onto a quiet, tree-lined street. He drove slowly, observing the house
numbers. He stopped, checked his notes again and eased his truck to a spot in
front of a brick veneer home with an open garage that housed a four-year old
Honda Civic. An older Ford sedan was parked in front of the house on a lawn
that showed little sign of maintenance.
Nelson drew
a breath and opened his door. Before stepping out, he looked both ways. He
eased himself away from the truck and walked the short distance to the front
door. The doorbell pad was missing so he knocked three times against the front
door. From inside, there was the sound of movement. A chair scrapped, there was
a sharp exchange of voices and the footsteps could be heard approaching. The
door opened and a large man stood facing Nelson. He had “life-guard” looks with
long blond hair partially covering a tanned face. “What?” he said.
“Is Mrs.
Charles Winters in?”
The man
glared at him and said, “What do you want?”
Nelson
spoke in a low, even voice. “I want to talk to Mrs. Winters.”
“What
about?”
“Is she
in?” Nelson fixed his eyes on the face of the man, a face that now showed a
slight hint of confusion.
The man’s
face gave a jerk to the rear. He yelled, “Connie.”
A woman’s
voice came from within, “I’m busy.”
“Come
here,” the man said.
“I said I
was busy.”
“And I said
‘come here’ and I mean right now, godammit.” The man returned his glare to
Nelson.
Nelson
said, “Thank you.” This seemed to confuse even more the man, who stepped aside
as footsteps approached.
His figure
was replaced by that of an attractive woman in her late thirties. Her blond
hair was pulled into a ponytail and secured with brightly colored bands. She
wore a sleeveless pullover with no bra beneath it. She had on faded jeans
showing her knees beneath worn spots. She was on the verge of being overweight,
but moved with a practiced sensuality. She took one look at Nelson and said,
“Whatever you’re selling, we don’t want any,”
“Mrs.
Winters?” Nelson said.
“Who are
you?” she said.
“Gideon
Nelson of the United States Navy. May I speak with you about your husband
Charles?”
She
brightened. “Charlie? Did something happen to him?”
“Yes,”
Nelson said.
“Come in,”
she said, looking pleased and holding the door for Nelson. She led him through
a well-kept room that was furnished with a large-screen TV, stereo equipment,
and an exercise machine. The kitchen contained a new refrigerator and other
upscale appliances. She motioned Nelson toward a seat at the kitchen table. She
said, “Coffee?”
“No
thanks,” Nelson said. He took a seat and placed his hands on the table in front
of him. She sat across from him. Her companion stood by the kitchen sink,
watching.
“Now tell
me what happened to Charlie,” she said. “Something bad, I expect.”
“No, Nelson
said, “actually something good.”
Her face
darkened perceptibly. “Good?”
“Yes,”
Nelson said. “Something quite good.”
She looked
at her hands. There was no wedding ring on her finger. Looking up, she said,
“And the Navy sent you to tell me about it?”
“No, I’m
just reporting as a friend.”
“I thought
you said you were with the Navy.”
“Oh, I am,”
Nelson said. “But they didn’t send me.”
She
appeared confused for a moment but then took a breath. “So what good thing has
happened to old Charlie, my, … uh, estranged?” The other man laughed.
“He met
me.” Nelson said.
Her face
tightened. “He what?”
“He met me
and found a friend,” Nelson said.
The other
man stirred and said, “Just who the hell are you mister?”
“You might
say that I am a modern Jesus,” Nelson said, continuing to look at Charlie’s
wife, “come to earth to protect the righteous and poor in spirit.”
“Bullshit,”
the man said as he started toward Nelson. “I threw that cripple bastard out of
this house and that’s all we want to know about him.”
“You need
to go outside and stay out of this,” Nelson said, his eyes still fixed on
Connie Winters.
“Mr.,” the
man said, “I’m giving you about one minute to leave before I throw you ...”
He didn’t
finish. He had walked over to Nelson’s left and was leaning in to yell in his
ear when Nelson grabbed the man’s arm and, taking advantage of the downward
momentum, slammed his face into the kitchen table. As he fell on the
floor, Nelson spun from his chair, grabbed the man by his shirt and delivered a
sharp blow to the side of his head, his fist traveling no more than a foot.
There was a sharp crack and the man’s eyes rolled upwards, then closed as he
thudded to the floor. Nelson released him, sat, and turned in his chair back
toward Connie Winters.
“Is it true
that you have taken Charlie’s bank records and checks from him and used Sluggo
here,” he nodded at the form of the other man, “to keep him from coming back to
claim them?”
She said
nothing.
“And is it
true,” Nelson said, “That you threatened bodily harm to my friend if he filed
for divorce?”
Connie
Winters stared at her hands for a moment and then looked at Nelson defiantly.
“So what if I did?” she said. “The wimp ain’t no use to me and I’m still young.
The VA will take care of him. But I’ve got to take care of myself, and that’s
all I’ve been doing.”
“Thing is,”
Nelson said. “It’s over. Watch and learn why.” He stood, turned and walked into
the living room. There was a loud crash accompanied by the sound of electrical
sparking and glass shattering. He walked back into the kitchen. “That was your
TV,” he said. “Would you like to get his checks and bank records for me now?”
“Fuck you
mister,” she said.
Nelson
walked back to the living room and there were more sounds of destruction. When
he walked into the kitchen, he moved to the counter and lifted a large
microwave and threw it onto the floor beside her. She screamed and jumped aside
and glass flew. “His bank records please. I have all day and you have lots of
goodies.”
Connie
Winters eyes were wide now and fear had frozen her face. “How will I live?” she
said. “I haven’t paid the rent this month.”
“Put Sluggo
to work,” he said. “Shall I take on the refrigerator next?” He moved toward it.
“No,” she
said. “Wait a moment. I’ll get them.” She hurried through the kitchen door and
down a hallway. As she entered a room off the hall, Nelson stepped over the
broken glass and stood out of sight against the wall. When footsteps sounded
her return, he flattened himself against it.
He watched
as a hand holding a revolver broke the plane of the door opening, followed by
an arm, and then the body of Connie Winters, her face wild and looking for
Nelson. Too late, she sensed him and spun. He grabbed her wrist and with one
jerk sent the pistol flying toward the still form of her companion. “Stupid,”
he said. “Really stupid. Now don’t make me mad … the bank records please, and
his other military documents.” He released her.
She was
breathing heavily. Nelson walked over to the gun, reached down, and grabbed it.
He removed the bullets and the cylinder, placing them in his pocket. He threw
the remainder of the gun into the kitchen sink. When the man on the floor moved
and groaned slightly, Nelson bent over, raised the man’s head by his long hair and
clipped his chin deftly, putting him to sleep once more. He turned and said,
“Now.”
Sometime
later, Nelson was checking a cardboard box full of paperwork. Connie Winters
stood in a corner crying softly, her hand across her mouth. Her companion still
lay senseless beside the table. When he seemed satisfied, Nelson turned to the
woman and said, “Now here are the rules of engagement. One, if, when I take
Charlie to the bank, there have been any withdrawals from this moment until
then, I will return. Is this understood?”
She nodded.
Nelson closed the flaps of the box. “And if I have to return, I will be pissed.
Look at me,” he said to her. When she did, he said, “Really pissed. Do we
understand one another?”
She nodded.
“And let me assure you, Mrs. Winters,” he said, “you don’t want to see me
really pissed.” As if to emphasize the point, he walked over and opened a
cabinet door. With one hand, he sent its contents, a collection of cups and
glasses onto the floor. “Now,” he said, “for the second rule of engagement. In
a few days, you will receive paperwork for a ‘no-fault’ divorce. I’ll wait one
week for you to return them. Do and you won’t see me again. Don’t and I will be
pissed. Okay?”
She nodded
and began to cry again. Nelson said, “Final rule of engagement. I think, after
the divorce is final, it would be nice if you and Sluggo here moved to a
climate more suited to your health. Don’t you?” She looked at him and nodded.
“Good. “I
love it when great minds agree.” He smiled at her and said, “After the body
parts pass through the grinder, as the butcher said while disposing of his
wife, everything falls into place.” He lifted the box and started toward the
door. Reaching it, he turned and said, “It has been a pleasure dealing with
you. I’m sure Charlie would want me to extend his thanks as well. He’s busy,
though, regaining the health that you and this thing,” pointing at the body on the floor, “along with our foreign enemies, attempted to take from
him.”
He stopped.
“Oh,” he said, “one more thing I almost forgot … the car keys please.” When she
hesitated, he said, “As my mother would say, Don’t make me have to come back in
there.”
She took
her purse from a kitchen counter and rummaged through it. She pulled out set of
keys and pitched them to Nelson. He caught them and said, “After I leave, put
the title into the glove compartment. Sometime, probably late at night, I’ll
come and get it. If I see either of you, I’ll wreak major damage. Understood?”
The form of
Connie Winters seemed small and frail as she stood among the ruins of her
kitchen. She nodded and then summoned enough energy to say, “Who the hell are
you, mister?”
Nelson
turned. “Why, Mrs. Winters,” he said, “like I told your friend there, I’m
Jesus. Haven’t you ever read about the cleansing of the temple?”
With that, he turned and was gone.
