Free Martin Misunderstood by Karin Slaughter Page A

hadn't
transferred to a magnet school for smart kids in
Atlanta. Then there was Marcia, the woman who
worked at the convenience store down the street
from Martin's house. That had been something
of a misunderstanding, though. Unfortunately,
Martin had not realized until he was fully naked
that Marcia was, in fact, still fully clothed and
walking out the door.
    The door opened and he grabbed the towel,
covering his nakedness.
    'I gotta make this fast,' the woman said,
picking up his pants off the floor. She pulled out
his wallet as she talked. 'My kid's got the 'flu. I
thought he was lying to get out of school, but his
sister called and said he has a fever.'
    Martin watched her count out fifty dollars and
return the wallet to his pants. 'I'm sorry to hear
that.'
    She reached her hand into an open tub of
lotion. 'Lie back on the table.'
    Martin got on the table, trying to keep the
hand towel over his intimate areas.
    'You got kids?' she asked, rubbing the lotion
into her hands.
    Martin's mouth opened to answer just as her
hand went under the towel and her fingers
wrapped around his member. 'Good Lord!' he
yelped.
    'Sorry my hands are cold.' She was staring at
the wall, a bored look in her eyes as her shoulder
jerked back and forth with her hand. 'I tell you
what, sometimes I wonder if the government's
telling us the truth.'
    'Huh-huh.' Martin was panting so hard he
could barely speak.
    'I mean, lookit this 'flu thing that's going
around.' Jerk, jerk, jerk. 'Everybody I know who
gets it, they're, like, laid up for a week, then they
get a little better, but two months later, they're
still feeling rundown.'
    Martin gripped the sides of the table, trying
not to fall off.
    'Can you really trust the CDC? Aren't they
supposed to be tracking this shit?'
    'Huh-huh-huh . . .'
    'And the FDA – one minute they're telling us
drugs are safe, the next minute they're taking
them off the shelves.'
    'Oh-oh-oh . . .'
    'It's like we can't trust a thing they tell us
anymore.'
    Martin closed his eyes, trying to block out the
sight of the fat on the back of Madam Glitter's
arm swaying as her hand moved. He squeezed his
eyes shut even tighter, trying to think about
Angelina Jolie, Rebecca Romijn . . . it wasn't
until his mind conjured the image of Diane
Sawyer in a lilac cashmere sweater that he felt
himself starting to let go.
    It was the dulcet tones of Diane he heard
instead of Madam Glitter's harsh voice when she
asked, 'You want me to squeeze your balls?'
    'Gah! Gah! Gah!' He came like an oscillating
lawn sprinkler with a kink in the hose.
    Madam Glitter wiped her hands on the towel.
'Sorry to rush you, but I need to get back to my
kid.'
    Martin stared up at the ceiling, still panting.
There was a brown water stain directly over the
table. How had he not noticed that before?
    She patted his thigh. 'Come on, sport. Up you
go.'
    Martin struggled to sit up. The vinyl squeaked
as he moved. He was sweating. His chest was still
heaving.
    The last thing she had said to him as she
rushed him out the door was, 'You really should
have that mole looked at.'
    And this was what Martin was supposed to tell
Anther, that he had been getting his member
massaged while Sandy was being killed? What
kind of alibi was that? What kind of person paid
for sex? He would rather be convicted as a
murderer than have his mother find out what he
had done. Did she have any inkling as to where
Martin had really been? Evie was in bed when he
returned from the massage parlor. Fortunately, Dancing With the Stars was on his TiVo season
pass manager. He had watched Mr T doing the
rumba with Joan Crawford and thought, Is this
what my life has come to? I actually paid a
mother of two for sex? Or was it really sex? Did
a handjob count as intercourse? Martin assumed
you had to enter someone – or was that a different
'inter' that they were talking about? Internal? He
scowled. That didn't sound sexy at all.
    Martin put the Cadillac into reverse and drove
away from the scene of his real