by Ray Baughman
It was a dark and stormy night. The author hunched his shoulders not because it was cold but rather to conceal his face from curious fans who staked out the hotel he was staying in. They snuck in the back door and were in the room in no time thanks to the conscientious concierge. It wasn’t that he was shy but he had just received his first death threat and was a bit rattled. He could still see the letters cut out and glued to a piece of paper.
“I will make you regret the day you decided to become an author. I’ll take everything you love and burn it to the fucking ground. Buckle up butter cup its gonna get bumpy.”
“Earth to Don is anyone home?” Lydia laughed as she spoke.
“Yea huh..what was t he question? Im sorry i just can’t get that damn letter out of my head”
“I was just asking how you are feeling. You should be thrilled. That threat will make you an extra couple hundred thousand..May into the millions if someone buys the rights to make it a movie” She smirked as she sauntered over handing him a glass.
“Blanton’s, 2 oz, one big cube. Just as the Gentlemen ordered.” She leaned down as she gave him his drink making sure her cleavage was noticed. She did a little jiggle once she saw his eyes were locked into place.
“I suppose your right but we should still report it to someone don’t you think.”He grunted as she sat down on his lap. Grinding her ass against him.
He took a long sip of his bourbon enjoying the sweet burn.
“I’ll call David in the morning” she said as she spun around straddling him now. She leaned in whispered, “It sure does turn me on to imagine some psycho watching as you make mad, crazy, love to me. You know neither you or I will hear a thing as loud as i am. I try to keep quiet but you just drive me wild.”she giggled as she kissed him.
He did as he was expected and made love with reckless abandon, and he would be surprised if the entire hotel knew when she came for the 5th time.
He smiled at the memory then frowned because he remembered how much bourbon he had drank. The sun streaming in the hotel window reminded him as well.Piercing his temples with a searing pain he groaned as he told God he was never doing that again. But they both knew he was lying. He reached over to touch Lydia’s arm but she wasn’t there. He started to panic but then remembered she had an 8 am appointment with Old Man Whithers, the patriarch of the Whithers Bourbon Dynasty. The assumed heir to the family fortune was not one for niceties. If your going to see him you better be on time. Now thats a man who probably sold his soul to the devil he thought as he drifted off to sleep,
Chapter 2 The pounding in hs head hadn’t quit yet. Damn it was persistent. Then he heard voices and he sat up.
“This is the police Mr. Morrison you need to open up or we are busting the door in.”
“Yes I’m here. Hold on I’ll be right there.”
“Now Mr Morrison.not gonna ask again.”
“I heard ya..alright I’m coming.” What the fuck he thought to himself as he unlocked the door.
The door was shoved open pushing him backwards; strong hands grabbed his arms his right cheek was pressed hard against the wall. He could see a bugger that someone wiped on the wall like a child. He groaned as the cold steel of the handcuffs were closed too tightly on his wrist.
“Thats too tight” he started to complain,
“Shut it Morrison. I have a warrant to search the premises and Im going to execute that now.. If you know where Miss Davenport is now is the time to tell us.”
“All I know is she was meeting old man Withers this morning.”
“She never showed up. Withers is the one called us and said he suspected foul play.”the officer said as he looked around the 3 room hotel suite.
He was back so quickly that Don couldnt help but gloat, “ I told you she wasn’t here.”
“Mr. Morrison your under arrest , you have a right to remain silent…
“Hold on ..what the fuck is going on..whatst hte charge.”
Murder in the first degree Mr Morrison.”
With that bit of news the whole world went dark. He could feel his pulse in this temples, his chest tightened up as he thought “Dear God I’m having a heart attack”. The world went black and our auther, Don Morrison collapsed banging his head on the coffee table as he did so.
To be Continued