The teardrop tank was full. So was my wallet. My coal black chopper burned rubber and blended into the asphalt stretching below me and the dark sky above. The milestones popped out every other minute and so did stars from behind clouds. Sturgis conquered I was off to see Sofie at the town beyond the Badlands.
The pubs were noisy and dark and smelled of beer and blood from broken bottles and brawls. I parked outside ‘Hell’s Oasis’ and started up the stairs to the glass door. There was screaming and boots pounding and Sofie walked out and past me in a long flowing dress. She had her sights on her car and it beeped as the electronic lock unlocked. I peered into the joint and saw Nick Majors’ guards rushing about and administering the panicked crowd. The car started out of the parking lot and onto the road I came in from. I moseyed up to my ride and chased the skirt.
It was cold getting cooler. I felt the frigid wind pinch my face and harass the moon, blowing clouds on her face. I smelt the fumes of the car that left a hazy trail on the highway. I pulled my jacket collar up to my chin. The fumes stopped. I switched on the high beam to look into the heart of Nox. She was standing beside the car that crashed into a Joshua tree off the road. I slowed and paused at a ‘STOP DRUGS’ sign and lit a cigarette. Then I walked twenty steps to the blonde gold-skinned goddess.
“Going my way cowboy?”
“You just left in Hell of a hurry”
“The radiator is kaput”
“I have broken insides myself”
“Shove it. Let’s get out of here.”
A green pickup truck screeched to a halt behind me. A swarthy Mexican got out.
“Well the Devil’s dame is out on a drive. Want me to give you a ride?”
“We are okay?” I answered.
“Who asked you amigo? Come senorita my lap is warm and big”, he grabbed Sofie’s arm. She slapped him with her right hand and he let go.
“I should have killed you along with Nick, but I will taste you before I do that”, the Mexican got a knife out like it was part of his hand. Damn Mexicans always have a knife.
A loud siren broke the desert stillness behind him. The Sheriff stepped out with his Remington shotgun. “Showing off jewellery hombre?”
“Sheriff! You follow me like a hungry mongrel. Be a good perro faldero and get going. Why don’t you run after fast cars like all good mongrels?”
I took Sofie’s hand and stepped back, her hand was cold, it contrasted mine.
The Sheriff didn’t move, he only spread his legs wider apart and raised the barrel.
“Maybe I will drag you in and play with you” the Sheriff replied.
“There isn’t a cop in town who can lay hands on Montoya”
“You fatherless roaches make me sick”
“Muerto” yelled Montoya as he hurled the knife straight into the Sheriff’s chest. The gun went off and Montoya had a hole for a head.
Sofie rushed towards the Sheriff as he lay on the road, his legs twitching. I raised his head on my lap as I sat on the cold hard ground.
“I am sorry I murdered your fiancé Sofie. You know you are too good for Nick. Please forgive me”, the Sheriff dripped dark blood as he spoke in whispers.
“Thanks for everything Sheriff, yes, I forgive you, I know all about Nick,” Sofie consoled the dying man. “You are my hero.”
We left the Sheriff, his body covered with the jacket I found in his patrol car. I turned the Chopper into the town with Sofie hugging my back. We returned to ‘Hell’s Oasis’. Sofie was staying at a room on the second floor of the hotel. There were two police cars outside and the Deputy met us at the door and led us into the lounge. Sofie lit a cigarette with her left hand. The Deputy told us Nick Majors, owner of ‘Hell’s Oasis’, was killed in his private room and investigations were on. He then took her to a table for recording a statement. Sofie signed the statement with her right hand, her left smoking still.
I was next. I told him I was visiting on my way home. “Any leads?” I asked.
“Well the forensic guy says it happened two hours ago. Money and trinkets are missing. Robbery could be the motive. He didn’t make many friends either. Montoya had recently threatened to kill him when Nick accused the former of cheating at the casino. The murderer slit his throat from behind. Well keep in touch. Next.” A cop signed me to leave the table.
I met up with Sofie at the visitors lounge. It was deserted. Her purse open, beside her on the table. She was five drinks ahead, so I decided not to catch up. “What did the Sheriff mean when he said he killed your fiancé?” I asked her pulling into a chair.
“Old Nick and I were to be married,” she answered looking into her glass of Scotch as if searching its soaking depths.
“Yeah, I figured that, but what did he mean he killed him?”
“Sheriff Jameson had been trying to get the hotel shut down. He probably had an altercation with Nick but he doesn’t use knives.”
“So, Montoya?”
“He is just a loud drunkard. A fall guy.”
Sofie drank tilting the shot glass even as she smoked. I got curious and let her open purse fall on its side to reveal its contents to me. I saw a snapshot of Jameson with Sofie and lot of trinkets. Could Jameson be a jealous jilted lover? But he wouldn’t need to steal anything to prove his point. A single diamond engagement ring rolled silently up to my invading finger. It spelt in embossed gold “N~S”. Why would she not be wearing the ring? I didn’t see it on her when we met tonight. I thought of the snapshot. My head travelled ninety kilometers, a km a second, to look at Sofie. She wasn’t in her chair. Her smoking right hand crawled on my right shoulder.
It spoke, “Nick said he loved me and denied my baby”, I felt a cold blade dig deep into my back.
I woke up with a nasty pain. I was all alone and in bed. Feeling for my wallet, I found I had with me the stub of a pawn shop. A stub I found in Jameson’s jacket. Down the fire escape now, my heart burnt with frustration and vengeance. I pushed my chopper in neutral far away from Hell’s Oasis. Once convinced of the distance or tired of backache I let it roar off to the inroads of the town.
Dawn was breaking and I was breaking into Montoya’s pawn shop. Sifting through racks I found my pawn. Jameson had pawned his holiday home, a beach front property in Miami to Montoya. ‘A copper paying a goon; for murder’ I concluded. Seemed about right. Only my back was not burning courtesy of a Mexican hood.
Old friends do change; its like rust or rubber; it wears out the original beauty. Sofie can watch her back; I was on road to my new beachfront residence.
