CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

   Rebecca was happy when she finally slipped into bed for the night. She had the feeling that Betty liked her and that black man Stacklee didn’t seem so bad after all. As those thoughts were on her mind, she drifted off to sleep.

   A noise woke her in the middle of the night.

   Her eyes opened and her body froze. It was probably just one of the other girls coming up from the bar. Then the sound came again, a light knock on the door.

   Rebecca said, “Who is it?” There was no answer. Was it just some drunken son of a bitch looking for a screw?

   “Who is it?”

   Someone whispered through the door. Rebecca could not make out what was being said so she got out of bed and tip-toed to the door. “Hello?”

   The whispering got louder. There was babbling that Rebecca couldn’t decipher and then the voice said, “Whore!”

   Rebecca was startled by the anger in the whispering and she still couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman.

   “Go away or I’m getting Stacklee.” she said. “Do you hear me? Go!”

   “Not until you die,” the voice said. “Whore!” There was a hard bang on the door.

   Rebecca jumped back and ran to her bed. The door was locked and there was no way that someone could do anything further without Stacklee or one of the other girls hearing. It was probably just some drunk. It had to be.

   “Go away!” she said, expecting another angry whisper in response but there was nothing. Faint footsteps ran away from her door.

   It took a while but Rebecca fell back asleep. She did so with the realization that she would probably have to get used to being harassed. Men were alike all over whether they were so-called holy men who wanted to rape young girls or the filthy cowhands who frequented the brothel. Maybe tomorrow she’d ask Stacklee for a pistol or at least a knife. After all, a lady needed some sort of protection. It was a dangerous world.

* * *

   After Mayor Douglas ejaculated on Ana’s breasts, he looked at her face and felt like slapping the shit out of it. Stupid Mexican bitch was nothing more than a whore even though she fancied herself a dignified woman. Hell, she even considered herself an American woman. What a joke that was.

   “I’m done,” he said, wiping his penis on her dress. He looked down at himself. The red tattoos had spread from his penis to his bulbous belly. What the hell was happening to him? He buttoned his pants and walked back to his desk. “You can go now. I’m going to have a drink. In about twenty minutes, send in Belladonna.”

   Ana stared at him.

   The mayor said, “You listening? That little cunt Belladonna Cardinale. Send her in.”

   “She’s dead.”

   Mayor Douglas slapped his palm down on his desk. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

   Ana pulled up her dress and said, “After I took her away, she passed out. Never woke up.”

   “The hell she did. I wasn’t that rough on her.”

   “Well, she’s dead.”

   “And what did you do with the body?”

   “I threw it in the crow-pit like you tell me to do with all the girls.”

   Mayor Douglas scratched his double chin. “Shit. I really wanted another go at her. Okay, then. Well, bring me some another girl. Tell my boys to go to Keoma and grab me one there. This time, tell them to get me a Chinese girl. I want something tight.”

   Ana ran her hands through her dark hair. “Whatever you say.” She left the room, cursing the mayor under her breath. It sickened Ana to feel his scum drying on her breasts but she was intent on enduring it until she got what she wanted. Ana wanted money. She wanted power. She wanted to see Mayor Douglas choke to death on his own raggedy balls. She wanted his gold.

   After Ana left the room, Mayor Douglas leaned back on his chair and puffed on a cigar. He was just about done with that Mexican bitch. As he sat there thinking about why he even took up with her in the first place, he heard footsteps outside the door. What the hell did the bitch want now? Didn’t he tell her to leave? But then he heard Ana’s voice coming from outside so it couldn’t have been her. He looked out the window and saw her in the moonlight, hitting one of his men with a cat o’ nine tails.

   Then who was outside his door?

   “What do you want?” Mayor Douglas said. There was no response, only the creak of the floorboards. He took a step and as he did so, a black envelope was shoved underneath the door.

   Footsteps quickly disappeared down the hallway and down the stairs.

   The mayor would’ve opened the door but he was afraid there might be a second person outside the door waiting for him. So he just bent down and picked up the black envelope.

   Inside of it was a photograph.

   Mayor Douglas didn’t consider himself a stranger to obscenities but what was shown in the picture shocked even him. His knees weakened and he stumbled to his chair. He brought the burning end of his cigar to the photograph. Burning it seemed like the right thing to do. He wanted to see it turn into a pile of ashes. No one else should have to lay eyes on it. But then he stopped. Though he was never superstitious, Mayor Douglas wondered if destroying the photograph would bring something even more atrocious.

   So instead of burning it, the mayor shoved it face down into his wooden box full of teeth and then poured himself a drink. He hoped drunkenness would get the memory of the photograph out of his mind.

* * *

   A loud phlegm-filled cough woke Bluford up from a sweet, sweet sleep. It was the sweetest, most comfortable sleep he had in a long time and he was genuinely pissed off that some asshole in the next room had to cough so loudly.

   Bluford saw that Lily wasn’t in the bed. He sat up and rubbed his eyes which were slowly adjusting to the darkness. He must’ve slept for hours and that would cost him. Stretching like a cat, Bluford sat on the edge of the bed. That’s when he saw it.

   A body.

   Lily’s body.

   Even in the darkness he could see that there was lots of blood. It surrounded Lily like a deep red rug. It couldn’t be real. It was a dream, it had to be.

   He slowly moved his head closer and saw her wounds. Her throat had been cut so deeply that she was practically decapitated. There was another cut from the top of her breasts all the way to her crotch. Her innards were halfway out of her body. Bluford thought he could see her heart. Or it could’ve been her liver. He never studied medicine so he wasn’t sure and he didn’t want to be.

   The urge to scream rose from the pit of his stomach up to his throat but he stopped it. What would people think if they caught him in the room with the corpse? There’s no way they’d believe that he slept through the murder even though that was the truth. He was a stranger in town and no matter how friendly he had been to everyone he’d met, the townspeople would still view him with suspicion.

   What the hell was he going to do?

   Bluford wasn’t just concerned about himself. He really did feel bad about Lily. She was a sweet girl even if she was just a whore. She didn’t deserve to die like that. But she was dead and he couldn’t help her.

   He quietly got dressed and then stood by the door listening. He didn’t hear a thing. The man who coughed must’ve fallen asleep. Bluford opened the door slowly and looked out. He didn’t see anyone so he stepped into the hallway and shut the door behind him.

   Bluford felt guilty leaving the corpse there but knew there was no other option. After taking a few steps down the hallway, he stopped dead in his tracks.

   There was a person at the foot of the stairs.

   It was too dark to see who it was. At first he thought it was Stacklee but realized that it couldn’t be. Stacklee was a big guy and the person standing there was smaller. They were wearing a long coat and a hat that did a good job of casting a shadow over their face.

   It looked like they were watching him. Then the figure turned and walked out of the back door.

   Bluford stood and waited for what seemed like forever. He didn’t know if he should just go back into the room and wait until morning. Obviously someone saw him. But what if they didn’t see his face? After all, he couldn’t see theirs. So maybe he did have a chance to get away.

   Moving quietly, he made his way down the stairs and out the front door. He was amazed that he managed to get out so easily but didn’t know where he should go next. It might be suspicious if he went up to his hotel room now. There had to be another place to stay at least until he thought it was safe.

   Bluford walked down the street until he was as far away from the brothel as he thought best. He saw the church down the road and was glad to see that it appeared empty.

   Once he reached it, he peered into a basement window. There were jars strewn everywhere along with piles of dark rags. He smashed the window and climbed inside. He sat down on one of the piles of rags and closed his eyes, falling asleep in minutes.

   This time, however, it wasn’t a sweet sleep. It was a restless one.

* * *

   It had been a successful night.

   The killer sat at a desk, using a razor to cut words out of newspapers and a bible. The words were arranged to spell out phrases that brought back vicious memories of childhood abuse and the witnessing of a brutal murder: mother slashing father’s throat in a fit of rage. Father had not brought home enough gold so mother was not pleased. She found out about the whore he had been visiting. So mother made him lick the whore’s filthy boots before she murdered them both.

   From the window, the killer could see the Indians outside of town. Those goddamn heathens. The killer wished to see the redskin men torn apart by coyotes, burned alive while their penises were slowly cut from their bodies, and hung from houses like decorations. And the redskin women. They should be raped. Their breasts should be punctured with the stingers of scorpions. Their orifices should be filled with sand and teeth. They should be drowned in rivers of phlegm.

   Thoughts of Lily’s murder resurfaced. She had been frightened almost to death when the black-gloved hands covered her mouth and the razor glistened in the moonlight.

   The killer made her sniff her own shoes before the blade destroyed her. Yes, it had been a successful night.

   And tomorrow would be even better.