Stagecoach Road Read online

  Marsha agreed and walked with Tommy to his cargo van and lay down in the back next to three tires stacked to the side. Tommy sat beside her and put his hand on her stomach, waiting for some sort of response.

  “I don’t know, Tommy,” said Marsha, who was aware but very tipsy, her breath scented with alcohol.

  “But I do,” Tommy said as he took both his hands and boldly unbuttoned her jeans in front and stuck his hand through the opening, pulling down her skimpy, white laced Victoria Secret’s panties and slowly worked his middle finger past her coarse pubic hair and into her hot squishy pussy. “Who’s on third now?” Tommy joked, as his finger went in deeper and deeper.

  Marsha pretended to resist, but then caressed Tommy’s balls through his Khakis. Tommy got hard instantly as he put his mouth on hers while grabbing her ponytail with his other hand. Marsha passionately kissed him as he continued fingering her steamy box. Her top was still on.

  “Ohhh, ohhhhh,” Marsha moaned as Tommy’s curious digit probed and found her clitoris while Marsha peeled off his pants, unleashing his rigid organ. Marsha unsnapped the top of her jeans so Tommy could get in there better. He pulled her jeans all the way down and flung them to the side. He then pulled one of her legs out from her skimpy panties, letting them lay next to her amber bush. Tommy parted her thighs and stuck his tongue inside her waiting snatch. She moaned even louder as Tommy’s tongue glided up and down her pink slit. Then he stuck his tongue deep in her pussy. Marsha got feverishly horny and returned the favor by putting Tommy’s hot cock in her mouth while Tommy slid it in between her full, red lips. Marsha sucked even harder which almost made Tommy cum too soon.

  “Not yet,” Tommy said as he pulled his rod out of her mouth and placed it next to her inviting crack. Marsha grabbed the base of his unyielding meat and worked it inside of her until she was fully penetrated. Tommy steadily pumped in and out of Benny’s wife and watched her reaction while she climaxed.

  “I’ve got to see those gorgeous huge tits of yours,” Tommy said as he ripped her blouse away, the buttons pinging against the metal door, as he put his mouth on her stiff nipples then sucked each of her plump, white, soft mountains as his cock pumped inside of her powerless beaver.

  “Do you get it this good at home?” Tommy asked as Marsha shivered with ecstasy.

  “Oh Tommy! Oh Tommy. Keep fucking me. Don’t stop. Don’t stop!”

  It was almost impossible for Tommy to hold back. He was never so horny in his life--nailing the pretty wife of the guy who sent him to jail.

  “Don’t cum in me Tommy,” Marsha pleaded during one of her climaxes. “Don’t cum in me. Ohhhhhhhhhhh!”

  Tommy didn’t say anything as he kept pumping and watching Marsha moan as her head rocked back and forth on his van’s floor with each plunge. “Don’t cum in me,” she repeated. “Don’t cum in me. Don’t cum in me. Don’t cum in me” After ten minutes of reddening her squishy pussy, Tommy put his hand over Marsha’s mouth, muffling her protests as his beast erupted, dumping a load of hot jizz deep into her accommodating pussy. He slid in and out of her a few more times until the last of his goo was inside her. He drilled her but good. Take that, motherfucker, Tommy silently thought while remembering Benny. Afterwards they both passed out from booze and exhaustion but woke up when they heard a loud muffler from the last car screeching out of the parking lot at 2:00 a.m., closing time.

  Benny didn’t ask any questions the next morning, even though he knew his wife didn’t get home until almost 3:00 a.m. He figured she was due for a ladies’ night out after class. Little did he know.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “Now I see,” Benny said to himself after learning the truth about his wife from the answering machine. “Marsha had an affair with that piece of shit? I can’t believe it. That sure explains a lot of things--like why she acted so anxious when we stopped by the Gas ‘N Go. And why she never questions my whereabouts. And why Tommy’s last words to me were, “It was her idea.”

  This was one bit of information he had to keep to himself, at least for now. But he did have the presence of mind to make a copy of the message with an old portable tape recorder. That little piece of tape, which he stored in his glove compartment, gave him a sense of power. It also gave him an astonishing amount of freedom he hadn’t experienced since he got married. Now he could do anything. Anything! And not feel guilty.

  One thing Benny had going for him was Tommy’s past. Tommy was in jail a few times, the longest was in Michigan City after the beating. Anybody could have killed him. This comforted Benny. Tommy must have acquired other enemies along the way.

  By Saturday, May 16th, the national media picked up this gruesome story. Everyone in the country knew about it, including Gerald, Frank, and Murphy. Benny figured they must have at least called each other or talked about it at work. Did they suspect Benny?

  For a few days the Lake Street Bridge was lined with television crews and onlookers. The weather warmed up to the 70s during the day and 45 degrees in the evening, a vast improvement for the early season beach goers. But not good for Benny. I’ve got to change a few plans. Too many eyes outside when it’s warm, he thought to himself.

  For years Gary, Indiana was right up there in the top five for the highest number of murders per capita in the United States--most of which went unnoticed. Gang and drug related murders were commonplace. Like breathing. No one cared much except the families of the victims. But this was different. Tommy was murdered for no obvious motive. Who would have done this? If someone just wanted him dead, they would have shot him and that would have been the end. Instead there was a sadistic killer on the loose who wanted him dead. And not just dead--butchered. There was no question the killing was personal. Tommy’s wallet was found on his body and nothing was missing--ID, money, all there. So it wasn’t robbery. It was clear to the police there would be more killings. THAT’S ONE!, the note read. Who was two? Or three? Where would it end?

  The autopsy report was released Monday, May 18th, 1992. The Post Tribune demoted the story to page two but it was still a hot topic: MURDER VICTIM DRUGGED, TORTURED. The article went on to describe the large amounts of succinylcholine chloride and epinephrine in Tommy’s blood, what was left of it. The story also noted the numerous puncture marks on the body, entry points for the drugs.

  That Monday evening, Marsha came home from the supermarket while Benny was still at work. The kids were at Hebrew school and weren’t expected back until 8:00 p.m. While putting her groceries away she gave a cursory glance at her new answering machine and noticed it blinking. There were two messages. She pressed ‘play’.

  “Oh my God! Oh my God!” Marsha screeched, almost fainting. “That’s me! I forgot to turn off the machine when Stephanie called. Oh my God! I wonder if Benny heard it.”

  On to message two: “Hi Marsha, it’s me,” said Benny. “Listen, I’ll be really late coming home. Don’t wait up. I’m taking an injury lawyer to Balmoral Park tonight to bet a few ponies. I think he’ll be a good source of patients.”

  Marsha was relieved to hear that. It sure didn’t sound like Benny knew. But she wasn’t satisfied. She called Stephanie and asked if Steve knew anything about the affair. Stephanie assured her he didn’t. “He never mentioned anything to me,” Stephanie said, trying to quell Marsha’s anxiety. “It’s been five years,” Stephanie continued. “If he knew, it would have come out by now.”

  Benny did plan a late night out, but not at the track. He was running low on Sucostrin and needed more. There was plenty for one more job, but that was it. So he drove over to J.J.’s after work. He parked about a block away next to an expired meter then got out to walk to the shop, quickly glancing inside his car. “Shit, the newspaper,” he said to himself, realizing he left it on the front seat. “I’m taking that with me.” He entered the shop about a quarter to eight.

  “Hey Sox!” Rings enthusiastically said as he saw Benny come in. Neither Rings nor J.J. knew Benny’s real name. “You got something to hock this tim
e?” he joked.

  Benny looked around and didn’t see anyone else in the shop. By this time he was such a good customer that he merited a more neighborly greeting. Rings went around the counter, opened the secured door and welcomed him with the ‘dap’ handshake--a light slap on the palms, gladiator grip, and a big finger-snapping finish. Like a bro. Benny clumsily went along with it.

  “What’s all this?” Benny asked Rings as they finished the shake.

  “Noth’n,” said Rings. “Just glad to see you. Business has been a little slow.”

  “Slow? Slow?” Benny said in disbelief. “I didn’t think there was such a thing in your line of work--not here anyway.”

  “Oh, it’ll pick up,” said Rings, twirling a gold bracelet around his thin wrist. “That sick murder near the lake has everyone edgy. The police think the guy who did it lives near here so they doubled up their patrols. People are afraid to be seen.”

  “Yeah,” said Benny, shaking his head. “A lot of whackos out there.”

  “What did you come in for?” Rings asked.

  “I need some more Sucostrin. When you see J.J. tell him to get me another five hundred dollars worth. I’ve got a big rat problem near my house and the city won’t take care of it. Around all the drainage pipes. My wife’s scared of those critters.”

  Rings didn’t ask any questions and took the five C-notes from Benny and promised the stuff in a week.

  “Sure glad you stopped by, Sox,” said Rings as he started walking back around the counter. “This is the first real money we made all night. J.J. isn’t here and I’m minding the store. He’s at home fumigating our place. We got a varmint problem, too. Good thing it’s slow today. I’ve got momma here. Tak’n care of her here today until we can go back in the house.”

  “Hey Bo!” boomed a woman’s voice from the back of the store. “I need a push to the toilet.”

  “Yo, Sox,” yelled Rings. “That’s momma. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Benny bided his time by looking at all the goods. There must have been two hundred gold wedding bands just in the front case. And a couple hundred expensive watches next to them--Rolex, Cartier, Omega--all the top brands.

  His momma? Benny thought. Sounds like she’s in a wheelchair. I wonder how old she is. Rings can’t be more than twenty-two.

  About ten minutes later Benny heard the sound of wheels squeaking against the floor, along with Rings’ footsteps. Rings was whistling Hot Fun In The Summertime by Sly & The Family Stone. He was pushing a white woman who looked about forty-five or fifty. She was very fat and wore a cheap K-Mart red wig with dirty curls and uneven bangs. Her legs were covered by a torn but thick blue blanket. Her face was caked with unevenly applied rouge. She wasn’t self conscious in the least.

  “We haven’t had many visitors today and momma wanted to meet you,” said Rings. “She’s at home by herself most of the time. I hope you don’t mind, but momma likes to hear stories about the shop when I get home. I told her about you. I didn’t see the harm since I don’t know your name or where you live.”

  “That’s enough, Bo!” said his mother in a harsh tone. “I don’t like when you talk for me when I’m sitt’n right here next to you.”

  “Oh, that’s okay,” said Benny, feeling very uncomfortable. “Rings here calls me Sox,” deferring to his White Sox cap, attempting to change the subject.

  “Rings?” exclaimed his mother. “I’m the only one who doesn’t call him that--seeing he’s my only kid. His name is Bo.”

  “Rings. Call me Rings,” Rings said to Benny. “Momma is the only one who calls me Bo.”

  “Fine, Rings,” said Benny. “Well, it was nice meeting you, um, um…..” Benny hesitated, not knowing if he should address her as momma.

  “Twila,” the woman interjected. “My name is Twila.”

  It took a few seconds for that to register. Not many named Twila. Benny’s jaw dropped as he stared deeply into her craggy face. She looked much older than her 37 years.

  “Oh my! Oh my!” cried Benny. “Oh my. I know you!”

  Rings looked at Benny then looked at his mother, who was now scrutinizing Benny’s face. His momma’s eyes were weak but she could still see the specter. She gasped then asked for a glass of water. Her son had a bottle of water handy on the counter.

  “Benny? Benny? Benny Weinstein? Is that you?” Twila asked like she had just seen a ghost.

  Benny didn’t move. He just stood there--shaking.

  “Yes, yes, it’s me,” said Benny, reaching for her shoulder with his right hand, and squeezing her arm with his left.

  “It’s been over twenty years since I saw you last,” Twila said as she shimmied closer and started crying. “Closer to twenty-three.”

  “Momma, what’s the matter?” asked Rings, comforting her with a hug as he handed her the bottle. “You know Sox?”

  The moment was briefly interrupted when another customer walked in, setting off the bell above the door. The man sniffed around for a minute then left.

  “Yes,” Twila sobbed. “I knew Benny from junior high. He was a dear friend of mine. He was good friends with your father, too--God rest his soul.”

  Benny thought he was dreaming. His father? Who was his father? Oh no, Benny thought. This can’t be happening.

  “Y-y-your father?” Benny stammered as he turned towards Rings. “Who was your father?” Benny had a good idea.

  “Bo never knew his father,” Twila answered. “Eddy died shortly after he was born. Remember Eddy Moss?”

  “Do I remember Eddy?” Benny repeated, his voice cracking. “Do I remember him? I’ll never forget Eddy. I loved him. He was a true, dear friend of mine.”

  “I loved him too,” said Twila. “He’s why we’re all here today, and why I’m the way I am.”

  Rings knew some things about his father Eddy, but not everything. Rings regarded J.J. as his father, but he was really his great uncle on Eddy’s mother’s side. Twila’s parents were too poor to care for the baby so J.J. stepped in after Twila moved back from Kentucky. Everyone who knew Twila from Wirt thought she permanently moved to Louisville. But she came back to Gary when Bo was just six months old.

  Benny whispered something in Twila’s ear.

  “Yes, yes, Bo knows all about the attack,” said Twila. “I made sure he knew when he was old enough.”

  “But I never found out what happened to Eddy afterwards,” said Benny. “He just disappeared.”

  Rings couldn’t bear to hear anymore and went behind the counter to get the broom and clean up for the night. He was going to close early anyway.

  “I’ll tell you what happened,” Twila said as she pointed to a chair for Benny to sit in. “You know what those delinquents did to him, don’t you? And me?”

  “Yes, vividly,” Benny answered.

  “I was already pregnant with Bo at the time of the attack. Eddy didn’t want me to get an abortion and I didn’t want one either. He was working at the beach to get some extra money so we both could get out of there and start a new life in another town.” Twila took a long swig of water, swallowed hard, then wiped her mouth with the blanket. “Then Eddy was attacked and I was raped. They cut Eddy real bad. Real, real bad. He was in St. Mary’s Hospital for a month, but he survived. Then our families thought it better for me and Eddy to move to Louisville. We stayed at my aunt’s small farm and I had the baby. I liked it a lot on that farm. Gave me a lot of peace. I thought we’d settle there, you know, and get jobs and everything. Then Eddy’s pain got so bad and he started having nightmares. He started drinking a lot and taking painkillers. One day he took too many and never woke up.”

  Benny scooted his chair closer to Twila and put his hand on her arm.

  “Those pieces of shit are responsible for Eddy’s death,” Benny said angrily. “He never would have died if it weren’t for those cowards. I miss him now more than ever.”

  “Eddy loved you too,” said Twila. “He always told me how nice you treated him--with respect, and how you w
ere such good buddies.”

  Rings finished sweeping the floor then took out the trash and started to lock up.

  “Well,” Benny said to Twila and Rings, who was in earshot, “I’ll be back to pick up the stuff next week. And oh,” Benny continued, pulling out the newspaper from inside his bomber, “you might be interested in this,” as he dropped the newspaper on Twila’s lap. “One of Eddy’s attackers is dead.”

  Twila squinted to read the headline. A big smile crossed her face.

  “Holy mother of God!” Twila shouted. “I saw this on the TV, but I didn’t pay much attention to the name. Shit, it is one of them! I hope whoever did this gets the others, too.”

  Benny smiled as he opened the door to leave. “Wouldn’t that be nice!”

  Chapter Thirty

  Tuesday, May 19th, 1992. There were still no leads on the Lake Street Bridge murder. A week passed since Tommy’s mutilated body was found. The police were still scratching their heads. The weather was getting nicer and that meant kids at the beach. Pete’s hotdog and root beer restaurant, directly across from the bridge, was now open for the year. Pete’s was the place to be. Pete Esposito, the affable, plump Italian owner with a Chef Boyardee mustache, started out in the mid 60s with a corner hotdog pushcart at the end of Lake Street. His good humor and excellent fare, along with the ice cold root beer, made him a hit. By the early 70s he had his own 1,500-square-foot restaurant, which was more like a come-as-you-are outdoor café. He also sold candy, sunglasses, hats, T-shirts, and cigarettes. “No booze, no booze,” Pete used to say. “Make people crazy.”

  Pete’s became the unofficial headquarters for the murder investigation. Two plainclothes cops hung around the place and kept their ears and eyes open for any clues. Maybe the murderer himself or herself would come back to the scene of the crime.

  Nine o’clock that evening, Benny was supposed to be off to chess club, but he had other plans. Marsha and the kids were at home working on school projects. Benny’s next target was Murphy Spevacek on Grand Boulevard. Yes, Murphy. He was the one who covered Benny’s mouth so he couldn’t scream the night of the attack. Benny was unable to scream. He was unable to scream. This was his mantra. He was unable to scream. And Benny never forgot it. His plan was to make Murphy want to scream. Benny knew how.