Bath House Murders. Logan Masters. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Logan Masters
Издательство: Ingram
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Жанр произведения: Контркультура
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9781607465645
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a regular,” Brice responded. “Usually I’ll pop in once a week. On a Friday!”

      “How about you, you here on business?”

      The man nodded that he was.

      “And some pleasure,” the stranger commented and grinned showing beautiful white teeth.

      Brice smiled back, knowing exactly what he meant by the comment. Accordingly, a sexual pantomime began to unfold.

      Taking Brice’s friendly smile as a signal, the man reached his hand forward to begin rubbing along his exposed leg. As Brice watched, he noticed a tattoo on the fellow’s buff shoulder. He squinted to see what it was. Shortly, he made it out. It was a dagger, blood dripping from the point.

      Brice moved his hand toward the man’s chest to rub the dark short hairs growing there. His fingers soon touched the nipples. As he rubbed them, he felt a moan of pleasure emanate from the man’s chest cavity.

      The man’s hand traveled up Brice’s leg to the erogenous zone underneath the towel reaching his aroused manhood. As contact was made, Brice too let go with a gentle moan.

      With this the man spoke, “I have a room.”

      Brice nodded consent to go to the room.

      The two stood and exited to the showers. They washed thoroughly then toweled dry. The man stepped to lead, but stopped short to look back and see if Brice was following. He was. The latter followed to where the large rooms were.

      As they arrived at a door, Brice asked, “Man, what’s your name?”

      “You can call me Jimmy,” was the reply.

      “I’m Brice.”

      With that, Jimmy opened the door. Looking into Brice’s eyes, he gestured with hand for him to enter the room. Brice entered in front of him, as with his other hand the latter squeezed his guest’s toweled-obtruding-buttock. Within seconds they were in the room.

      Several strolling by heard the door shut tight, then the click of the lock. The number on the room was #21.

      CHAPTER TWO

      Early Saturday morning, the autumn’ sun peeped through the kitchen blinds, whose blades were set to keep out most of the warm rays.Ellie Ramos, an eight year old girl, spooned cereal from her favorite bow as she watched a kid’s television program, a cartoon show called “Super Defenders.” A machine, in the form of a spider, was crawling up a building and about to pounce on several of these futuristic-looking super heroes who were unaware of the impending danger. Her six year old brother, Ricardo, was also seated at the table with a cereal bowl before him. He provided the additional commentary for the program’s sparse dialogue.

      “Come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly. Hah! Hah! Hah!” He trailed off with what had been intended as an eerie laugh. In truth, his mummery was more irritating than eerie.

      “That’s what I’m going to be on Halloween,” Ellie while pointing with the empty spoon toward the set.

      “A mechanical spider?”

      “No!” she exclaimed in discernible disgust, “a Super Defender.”

      “Nope, you’re gonna go as a creepy spider.” He got up from his place, hunched over, spread out his arms to form an arch, and showed his gritted teeth.

      With a glaring countenance, and deeply disgusted at his apparent immaturity she continued, “You are so dumb!”

      “Who are you calling dumb Ellie?” asked her mother, who was in the process of hastily getting dressed, and coming into the kitchen for one last cup of coffee. The woman, although still without makeup, had a gorgeous face. She was in her early thirties.

      “She called me dumb,” interjected Ricardo.

      “Ellie, what have I told you about calling people dumb?”

      “I did not know you meant Ricardo, he really is dumb,” she then plopped a large spoonful cereal into her mouth, a look of satisfaction on her cute face, at having gotten a good dig in on her annoying brother.

      “Mommmm!”

      “Ellie, I’ll not have you talking to your brother in an unkind way. You know what they teach in Catechism.”

      Ricardo got a smug look on his face. To have God, himself, against his sister was all the better.

      “You can wipe that look right off your face Ricardo. What did you say to make your sister call you dumb?”

      Before he could answer, in the background, the television station announced the time. It’s now 9 AM.

      “I’m late! Finish your breakfast. Grandma will be here soon.”

      The woman’s name was Angelina. To the two youngsters, it must have seemed that her parental relationship with them was one long, expanded dash—through multiple doorways, fleeing in and out of rooms, and forever darting down an extended corridor called family’ life. In keeping with this, Angelina hurried down the hallway to her bedroom, to finish dressing!

      Her full name was Angelina Marie Ramos. Like so many residing in Phoenix, she was of mixed blood heritage—her father Caucasian and mother Hispanic. For the whole of her life she had grown up in that City of the Sun.

      She was a beautiful woman with light copper-tone skin and brown hair with golden highlights. She had always been confident and outgoing. In high school had been a popular cheerleader. Upon graduation she had begun her college education at Arizona State. Her major was criminology. After two years in school, she met a blue-eyed dreamer named William Snodgrass. He was good in bed, but beyond that had no comprehension of a work ethic nor compunction when it came to any sense of responsibility. Two pregnancies and several moves, back in with her parents, ended that relationship. He eventually drifted on to live in some other state. So she was left, like so many of her friends, a single mom raising her kids without a male influence.

      Angelina completed her education while working a beginning stint at the Phoenix Police Department. Given her determination, hard work, and sharpened skills she had reached the rank of detective. As a woman, this had been quiet a triumph, especially since the Phoenix Police Department was known mostly for its machismo and for holding to attitudes reminiscent of the Old West.

      What Angelina faced was no easy task—a woman alone, raising two kids, and trying to be both mom and dad. The bad experience with the ex had left her very suspicious of men. Very suspicious! In fact, to date, after her first mistake there had not been a serious second.

      The kitchen door to the outside opened slowly. In walked an older, diminutive, Hispanic woman. Warmth was etched in the slight wrinkles of her rounded face.

      “Mi bambinos!”

      Both Ellie and Ricardo bolted from their respective chairs in response to her affectionate greeting. This was grandma. Their small arms stretched forward in an attempt to reach around her plump lower torso. Saturday was her day to come and spend with them while her daughter Angelina was on duty.

      “Mama,” Angelina called out, upon hearing their voices in the kitchen.

      She intended to say more, but before she could continue her cell phone began to chime. Angelina instantly picked up the phone from her dresser.

      “This is Detective Ramos,” her answer was in a very business-like-manor.

      She listened intently. “Hello. Hey!” a brief pause, “go ahead, I’m listening.”

      A short minute passed, then another. Meanwhile, the children and their grandmother provided background noise as they laughed and talked in the kitchen.

      “What’s the address,” Angelina finally spoke up, as she promptly moved to obtain a pen from her purse. She jotted down the information on a notepad.

      In a flash, the conversation ended!

      She sped back into her bathroom to