Cullen blinked rapidly more times than Overby could count. “Not to keep, she don’t.”
“Okay. You keep the sawed-off but she gets the shells.”
Without waiting for more debate, Overby slid the shotgun across the table to Georgia Blue, who broke it open, removed the two shells, put them in her purse, then slid the still-broken-open shotgun back to Cullen.
Cullen put a hand on it, looked at Overby and said, “My money.”
Overby reached into a hip pocket and removed ten pre-counted hundred-dollar bills. He handed them to Cullen, who counted them slowly twice, then looked up and said, “When’ll I get my next thousand?”
“After you tell us about the Goodisons.”
Colleen Cullen drank some of her bourbon and water, tossed black hair out of her eyes and said, “They rolled up unannounced and
unexpected right out front two weeks ago tomorrow in a big old black limo.”
Georgia Blue gave Overby a triumphant half-smile. He ignored it and said to Cullen, “Okay. They get out of the limo. Then what?”
“They say the secret password.”
“Which is what?”
“Five thousand a week.”
“For both of them?” Georgia Blue said.
“Each.”
“Christ!” Blue said.
“That’s with full board, sis.”
“What else do they get for ten thousand a week?” Overby asked.
“Guaranteed money-back privacy.”
Overby nodded comfortably, as if he found the price high but not excessive. “How often do the deputies drop by?”
“Every other Tuesday.”
“And go away with what?”
“A thousand each—and that thousand each’s still gotta be paid even if I’m empty.”
“Okay,” Georgia Blue said. “The Goodisons check in. Then what?”
“They stay in their room for three days—even take their meals there. The TV’s going twenty-four hours a day, nothing but MTV shit, although it ain’t loud. It’s sort of like they wanted background noise.
But it sure wasn’t loud enough to drown out the sounds they made humping away on the bed.”
“Why’d they use their real names?” Overby said.
“With those limey accents? Shit. The second they open their mouths, I go, ‘Lemme see some passports.’ “
“They tell you they were brother and sister?”
“Said they were married. I think, Sure you are, kiddies. You just happen to have the same noses, mouths, eyes and ears. But if kinfolks wanta fuck each other, it’s none of my business, so I call him Mr.
Goodison and her Mrs. Goodison—at least ‘til they say they want me to call them Hughsie and Paulie.”
“Was there a phone in their room?” Overby asked.
“Only one phone in the whole house and it’s locked up.”
“They ever ask to use it?”
“Once.”
“They get any calls?”
“Be hell to pay if they did.”
“When did they turn off the TV and the MTV noise?” Blue said.
“Who says they did?”
“I’m guessing.”
“They turn it off at the end of the third day and never turn it back on. They come out of their room that night and start getting friendly—
too friendly. First him. Then her. Then both of ‘em together. Touchy-feely stuff. They like to shuck off their clothes, too. He’s finally down to nothing but Jockey shorts and she forgets to put on anything but a little old bra and panties and for all the good they did, she might as well’ve left them off. I don’t mind a three-way now and then but not with those two sickos. I’d as soon jump into bed with a snake and an alligator. So I posted me some new rules.”
“Which were what?” Georgia Blue asked.
“Rule One: Keep Your Hands off the Landlady. Rule Two: Cocks and Pussies Must Be Covered at All Times.”
