Free The Devil's Dwelling by Jean Avery Brown Page B

mahogany furniture with a mirror and four brass hooks. I turned toward the kitchen.
    “Something smells really good.”  I meandered through the living room into the kitchen area.
    Randy picked up the tongs and headed for the patio.
    “Excuse me while I turn the steaks.”  Randy rushed out back, turned the steaks and returned to the house. He had a bottle of Chardonnay wrapped in a white napkin and setting in an ice bucket.  He opened the wine and poured us a glass. He lifted his glass. “A toast to us, our friendship and our love for each other.” We clicked glasses…
    Love, I thought I don’t know if I love him.  I think the world of him but…
     
    We shared a lovely dinner over candlelight with soft music in the background. Randy stood up, dropped his napkin on his plate. Walked around the table and took my hand.
    “May I have this dance?” 
    I stood up and he wrapped his arm around my waist and we began to dance. We slowly danced mostly standing in one place, just holding each other. It felt good to have his arms around me.  Randy snuffed out the candles, took me by the hand and led me to his bedroom. His bedroom furniture was made of rich mahogany. His comforter a geometrical print in shades of blue. He unbuttoned my blouse and slid it off my shoulders. I pulled his shirt over his head. His muscles rippled causing me to swoon. My hands caressed his body. He kissed my neck and moved his lips down to my breasts. His hands rested on my hips.
     
    I woke to the sound of a lawnmower in the front yard. “Oh my Gawd, what time is it.” 
    The yard service man was at work.
    The clock chimed eight times. I was wearing Randy’s tee shirt and it smells like him. I grabbed my phone and called Mona.
    “I’ll be there shortly. I over slept.”
    “You slept, I’d been doing the monkey dance all night.” Mona laughed.
    I slipped on my lacey pink  bra and bikini  pink panties. I stepped in my jeans,  pulled my blouse over my head.  Slipped on my heels and headed for the door. I stopped and looked  for a note pad.  I found one laying on the counter. I started to leave a note and noticed a note from  Randy. ‘Thanks  for last night.’ Love, Randy
    I jotted down a note.  Ditto, Love ya, Tiffany.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    TWELVE
     
    Peewee slapped a stack of files on his desk.
    “You see these files? You and Mona are getting behind. I need these ‘no shows’ picked up.”
    He shoved the files over to me and pushed back in his chair. Again I listened for the inevitable snap of the chair.
    Mona grabbed the first file.
    “Lester Long, what’s he running from?”
    Lester, a small man weighing about a hundred pounds, grey hair rimming his head and sneaky blue eyes, works the midnight shift at the local cemeteries stealing flowers off freshly planted graves. His wife, Honey dries the flowers and makes dried arrangements and sells them at the local flea market on Saturdays and Sundays.  We need to get the burial schedule from Mr. Thompson at the mortuary. Lester will be at the cemetery around midnight after a couple of funerals.”
    I put the file under my arm and headed for the door.
    “We’ll get this one going and be back for the other files.”
     
    Boris, a tall thin man with dyed black hair and fair skin wearing a black suit greeted us as we enter the foyer of the funeral home. The entry was gloomy with heavy brocade drapes hanging from the window trim. The wall paper was that of cherubs floating in the air. The floor was shiny dark hardwood. The hollow foyer with high ceiling echoed every sound.
    “May I help you ladies?” A deep bass voice rang out echoing throughout the building.  My knees started to knock. I smiled moving to the other side of the room. Thinking he might be checking me for casket size. Mona was so close to me I could feel her breath on my