Murders In Progress by Eldon Cene

Editor’s Note:  A rural-noir Valentine from Eldon…

Bungalow3

Livin’ On The Down Low

(Episode 29)

(Soundtrack at: http://youtu.be/oOpnplMQmCg  )

 In Stan’s experience, if a fellow wanted to remain as inconspicuous (in the right places) as possible, a guy could do worse than hooking up with a married woman.  They took care of all the meddlesome particulars about slinking around and remaining invisible.  They were a constant source of information.  And what’s more, they kept their mouths shut.

As long as you kept them happy – which wasn’t hard – they just wanted to get laid, and to have someone make them moan.  You give them that, and they’d put up with a lot.  And they’d mind their own business.  Your ‘mysteriousness’ was part of the draw.  ‘Poor schmuck husbands’, Stan ruminated, ‘weren’t exactly the last word in mysterious.’  But he’d had to learn that himself, also.

The Burnetts  owned a couple cottages which served as a sort of town Motel.  And Carmella put him up in one.  Bed and board and two hundred a week cash under the counter, plus all the sex Stan could manage.  Carmella had eaten a few too many hash browns to be bouncing around on top any more, but she was a willing vehicle.

She liked to scream, which at first had Stan pretty alarmed.

“What the fuck!”  He stopped mid-stroke.  “The Sheriff’s just across the street!”

“So..ooooooHH!?”  Carmella groaned.  She was slippery and wet and breathing hard.   “…He’s probably just asking Ruth to close the side window now,” she said with a little irritation.

Apparently, having Carmella shriek was ‘business as usual’ around there.

And as  Stan discovered  later, having made Carmella shriek! seemed to put the whole town in a better mood and on an even keel.   And as the purveyor of this communal gift, Stan was even given an obliging nod now and then.   In the matter of a week or two, Stan was accepted as completely into the fabric of the town as Bob Weeds, with a history spanning generations, had never been.   Something sad about that, but Stan didn’t dwell on it.  He was busy trying to figure out what had him itchy as a bug in a frying pan.

Photo from Google Images

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