The Murderer's Confession

Sunlight peered through the cracked curtain.  It streamed into the room, a dance of dust particles swirling in the lighted air.  The whole room must have been like that, and it was only through the incoming light that one even noticed it. 

Dust.  That’s all we are.  Dust in the wind, as Kansas sang.  For you were made from dust and from dust you shall return, the bible says.  We are all just stardust, part of the one great universe, or so say the astrophysicists and philosophers.

But he thought about none of these things.  He noticed the dust swirling, and gave it not a second’s thought.  He cracked the drape farther, lighting up more dust that he was oblivious to.  He cautiously looked out, the parking lot of broken concrete in his line of sight, then the road, Highway 84, with concrete splits but no actual potholes.  It was mid-afternoon and the traffic was steady.  Across the street, there was the Drive In.  He could see that it was closed until May.  It still had up the movies it had played last September, a double bill of Rush and Riddick.

He looked to see who else was at The Cypress Inn.  There were just one or two other cars.  To call the motel seedy might be too kind.  It had not been renovated or kept up with since it’s heyday in the 60s.  The sign for it promoted A/C, free cable and access to the Playboy Channel.  He did not need the Playboy Channel.  He could always find the women he wanted. 

Right now he had Cissy.  A bit of surprise to him when she agreed to come with him, but there she was, stretched out on top of the bed, naked, just like he was.  She had great, luscious breasts, and a nice round ass.  Her belly had a little plumpness to it, probably from childbirth, and a fondness for Little Debbie’s.  Oh yes, sometimes even the skinny ones change when they start slipping into their twenties.  But she was pretty enough, and looking at her, even with the tension he was under, he could feel himself respond again.

He shut the drape, cutting off the view of the dust dance, and sat in a polyester chair, its blue marred by rips and gouges, white stuffing fringing out of it.

What a past twenty-four hours it had been.  He had gone from on top of the world to this.  The word had gone out.  Get out of town, as quick as you could.

Jesup probably wasn’t far enough.  But it was just a first stop to get some time to think about the next move.  He was surprised when Cissy agreed to come with him, at least for this first couple of nights.  Her stepsister, Susi Kapok, would come pick her up from Sybil’s tomorrow at lunch.  At least that was the plan.  Maybe he could talk her in to hanging longer.  But he didn’t want to take that kid of hers, and he was sure she wouldn’t leave the kid for good.

It would be a shame.  Sex was so good with her last night.  And it was "au natural" as she assured him she was on the pill.  He wasn’t sure how that worked.  She didn’t have any medicine with her, so she must have taken it before she left.

Twenty-four hours ago it was all falling into place.  He was going to be the new head of the family, at least as soon as Daddy faded away.  And just how long could that cranky old man hold on?

Everything he had done, he had done to help strengthen the Crowley fortune.  Everything he had done, he did to impress Daddy.  Everything he had done, it was with a plan and purpose to accelerate his climb to King of the Hill.

Daddy thought he was stupid and couldn’t think his way out of a paper bag.  Well, Daddy was in for a surprise.

Worried about some stupid flower?  Hell, why just bribe the damn scientists? It was so much easier to kidnap that hippie teacher, have him show you where the plant was, root the thing out and incinerate it, then travel Kelly to some remote part of the swamp and smash his head into his own kayak, and let the swamp decay him into nothingness.  Damn big mouth Delco Hollander bitch!  If she and Rondy hadn’t stumbled onto the damn body, and then her not keep her bitch mouth shut, maybe he wouldn’t be in this mess.

And he thought he had pinned that Yankee dweeb husband of hers good.  Damn Rondy kept wandering off topic, slowing down the project, going off into the swamps to look for that plant he had already disposed of.  Rondy had to go, and Yankee Hollander was the perfect patsy.  He was ordered to spy on them, and what a lucky break that was!  He intercepted that package he left on Christie’s doorstep, taking out the gun, the golden perfect weapon to use.  He started to follow Rondy, and when Rondy came up to the law offices all by his lonesome, it was the perfect opportunity. 

Boy, was he confused!  “You?  What are you doing up here this time of night?” he said, puzzled as all get out.  Then he aimed the gun and Rondy just looked even more confused.  He didn’t say another word.  Just fired and blew a hole in the middle of Rondy’s forehead.

Then he eliminated his chief rival for control of the business by outing Freddy's gay ass self.  That fag would no longer be the favorite son.

This would all be over if it wasn’t for that over persistent Sheriff and that Yankee’s stupid accounting tricks.  Should have rigged the election better and never let the Mayberry goody-goody in power in the first place.  Maybe he should have started his whacking with Sheriff Steel.  And he swore, no matter what else happened, he would end the life of that miserable Gariton Hollander.

He was jarred out of his thoughts by the loud ringing of his cell phone.  He went to the nightstand and picked it up.  Cissy moved and moaned a bit, but she did not get up.

Caller ID said it was Sandy Harley.  “Hey!  Is that you?”

“No, Sherlock.  It’s Batman.  Of course it’s me.  What the hell do you want?  It’s probably not a good idea for you to call me.”

“I know.  I’m sorry.  But I got to tell you something.”

“Make it quick.”

“They got me.  They got me good.  I had to tell them.  I’m sorry.  They knew all about it and said how bad things were gonna be for me, so I had to tell them everything.  And now, they’re coming after you full force.”

“Just great,” he said.  At least Sandy only knew about Kelly.  He wasn’t involved at all in what happened to Rondy.  Well, who cares?  Kayak Kelly was probably enough to hang him.  “How are you calling me?  Did they arrest you?  Are you on the run too?”

“No, it’s my one phone call.  Look, it ain’t just me.  Both Reggie and Archie are saying you went rogue and they got nothing to do with your craziness.  You’re on your own.  You need to run.  Now.”

Run?  He and Cissy were naked.  He’d have to get her up, and gather stuff up and get the hell out as quick as possible.

No. Just him.  He could leave her here.  Or maybe not.  Keep her and enjoy her for as long as he could.

No. Just get out.  Who knew how much time there….

And then he heard the sirens.  Oh, Lord!  Where were his pants?  Where did he leave his gun?

Cissy rose up, propped on her elbows.  “What’s happening?  What’s all that noise?  Is there a fire?”

The loud knocking came.  “Police!  Open up!”

“Ok, just gimmie a sec to get dressed.  I ain’t decent!”

Cissy pulled the sheet over herself.  “Just open up!  I don’t want to die!”

Before he could think, the door was rammed open, and the police came in, including an out of jurisdiction Sheriff Alan Steel.

At least a half dozen guns were pointed at him.  “Well,” said the Sheriff, pointing. “I can see you’re not really happy to see us.”

Digger Crowley had come to the end of his brief, pitiful run from justice.