Tears on a Sunday Afternoon - Michael Presley [62]
“Exactly what day was that?” I asked.
“That would be a Saturday.” Sindrel spoke for the first time. “Yeah, that was me. I went to visit a buddy in Buffalo. He bought a house on Rounds Avenue. It’s a beautiful place but a little too slow for me.” I made a mental note to call my friend, Hill, who had recently moved to Buffalo.
“Did you stop at a restaurant while you were driving out there?” It was Summers asking the question again.
“Yes, I did, and that place was a madhouse. I think they had some kind of hunting meeting going on.” I looked at Summers. “Officers, can you tell me what this is about?”
“Well, an older man got killed with his own gun and we’re trying to understand what exactly happened,” he said.
“I’m sorry to hear about that,” I said, hoping that I had the most sympathetic look on my face.
“Well, this is the first time we’ve ever had something like this happen in Ketonya County in twenty years, so we want to make sure that it was an accident. Hunting is one of our biggest tourist attractions. We definitely don’t want to ruin it,” Summers said.
“The place sure seemed like a happy place when I was there. People were so friendly. Maybe one day, I’ll try that hunting thing,” I said.
“We’d be glad to have you. Before we go, did you happen to see any suspicious characters hanging around?” Summers asked.
“I don’t exactly know what you mean by suspicious. There were so many guns there but everyone seemed intent on killing the big one.” I rose from the chair.
“Yeah, we’re having a great hunting season. I think it’s one of the best in years,” Summers said. “Well, thanks for your time. I hope we didn’t cause you any inconvenience.”
“I’m sorry, Officers. I didn’t even offer you guys something to drink,” I said.
“No thanks; we just stopped at Wendy’s and had a big meal. Take care of yourself and we hope to see you in our woods next year,” Summers said as he opened the door.
“Good day,” Sindrel said as he followed Summers out the door.
I closed the door and listened to their car driving off. I went into the refrigerator and poured myself a glass of orange juice.
I walked back up the stairs, passing Annette as she was walking down.
“Freeloader. I thought they’d taken you away,” Annette said, her mouth in the same position it had been in before; unnatural.
“Why don’t you get an operation?” I asked.
She glared at me. “An operation?!”
“Yeah, your mouth is perverted. Oh I’m sorry maybe that’s asking too much because your whole body is perverted.”
“You should lock your door at night,” she said.
“Why? You might try to rape me? I know your type. You all just want some good dick to straighten you out.” I laughed.
“Motherfucker, your time is coming.”
I entered my room and shut my door, then laid back down on the bed, still shaking from speaking with the officers. That was a close call. It was obvious that they didn’t have me on camera because they were only trying to establish presence. I surmised that they had someone taking down license plates of all the vehicles that were in the parking lot that day. I took my clothes off and went into the bathroom to take a shower. While in the bathroom, I reminisced about the shower I had taken with Julie. It was one of the longest, most exhilarating baths I had taken. I had attacked each crevice of her body and she had done the same to me. We had soaped and cleaned each other from head to foot. By the time we were finished, we were barely able to walk to the bed. I remembered her collapsing over me and the two of us falling asleep again, totally exhausted. If that was what love felt like, I realized I had short-changed myself for more than 35 years. The memories of Julie had gotten my dick hard. I toweled off as I walked out of the shower. There was a loud knock on the door.
“Donald, Daddy is on the phone.” Lauren announced it like I had won the lottery.
My penis immediately became flaccid. I went over to my nightstand and picked up the phone. I hung it back up after I had made arrangements to meet Malcolm at his house.
The full-time maid guided me to Malcolm