carlee - a thing of beauty
carlee in louisville part seventeen
i slept crazily that night. i woke at 4am, 5am, 6:20 am, and there was a knock at my door a little after 7:00. "hey in there! are you decent?" it was mr. anderson. after looking around at the bed, i really wasn't decent. had bled through my tampex and the bed looked like an advertisement for hammer films. god.

"pork pie, if you'll do me a favor, i'll make myself decent."

"anything you want." he answered.

"go down to hardees and get a pitcher of coffee and a dozen doughnuts, glazed."

"then you'll let me in?"

"then, i'll think about it."

"huh, what we old men do for pretty girls." i heard him walking down the stairs, mumbling to himself. i got up and tended to myself, then changed the bedlinens. i put on a pair of jeans and a pink halter top, brushed my hair, shook my head, then put it up in a pony tail. i need to have my hair high-lighted again, and i needed to wash it. but, first things first, i needed coffee. mr. anderson was prompt with breakfast. he was a breath of sunshine, wearing a light blue pin stripe suit with a white long sleeve wrinkled shirt, his favorite old hat on, and eighty pounds overweight. he was under my skin though, i really liked the old buzzard.

"ah, are you always this pretty when you wake up carlee?"

"most always." i smiled. i grabbed the sack of doughnuts and ate two quickly while i dragged a couple of coffee mugs from the cabinet. we sat at the kitchen area table.

"when the hell did you eat last girl. if i was your daddy i worry my ass off about you."

"they gave you the pitcher?"

"hell no, charged me $25.00 for it, like it belonged to a fuckin' king or something."

"the coffee's worth it, though, thanks." i reached over and kissed him on the cheek.

"it is good, i'll have to agree with that. now, can we get down to business?"

"i don't conduct business in the kitchen area pork pie."

"this is a two room apartment baby, bathrooms don't count." i smiled, and walked him into the main room. we sat and sipped coffee. mr. anderson reached inside his jacket pocket and retreived an ancient alligator wallet, which he opened and took out a piece of paper. "a refund on your bet yesterday." he said, as he handed it to me. $5,000.00, signed by laverne anderson.

"i didn't bet that much pork pie." i softly said.

"yeah, but your winnings would have been a hell of a lot more than that. i had to throw the race baby, it's a long story, but i had to do it, didn't andy tell you?"

"he did, but he didn't say anything about refunding me with interest."

"good god girl, i have $50,000.00 worth of pictures of you downtown, and had the pleasure of taking them myself, take the check and don't give me any hard times."

"you sold my pictures?" i queried.

"no, honey, i didn't sell them, but that kind of stuff is worth a lot, you just don't know." maybe i didn't know, but mr. anderson was beginning to irritate me.

"i know i'm not street smart, nor very worldly, but i can't accept your money, and i won't," i said.

"little girl, little girl, i would write you a check for a million dollars and not raise an eyebrow. the race was embarrasing to me, and i wanted more than anything to see your face light up like a christmas tree today, i counted on it. you're very special to me carlee." a tear came to his narrow blue eyes. i hugged him and started crying.

"i'm sorry pork pie, i really am, i'm not myself today, i have a sick friend in the hospital, it's ragtime, and i don't feel good." i cried and i cried. i just couldn't stop. mr. anderson held me tightly and rubbed the back of my head.

"it's alright sweetie, don't cry, it's ok. we'll talk money later." he handed me a kleenex and i blew my nose. "now that's better, you change and go see your sick friend and have dinner with me tonight. would you like to go to harriet's again?"

"no, i want to eat at a pool room, pickled bologny and eggs and beer. and i want to play nineball with you." mr. anderson raised a curious eyebrow.

"gut bomb if i ever heard of one, sounds fascinating to me. do you knows 'red's'?"

"i've heard of it." i answered.

"red has pickled pig's feet also, and beef jerky. and lots of peanuts in the shell."

"sounds perfect." i said.

i had heard of 'red's pool room', it was over on the east side, very fancy, next to "the shack" where they did folk music, i had been there once. i changed clothes and put on a short red dress that i liked, even high heels and blue sapphire ear rings. "very presentable." i thought. the phone rang.

"hello?"

"carlee, this is zimmerman, i may have some good news."

"i need some harry."

"can we have dinner tonight?"

"sorry, getting drunk with a friend tonight."

"you're quite a girl carlee, will you be sober for lunch?"

"uh, i think so, i have to go to the hospital, meet me at 'gorman's' about 12:30 if you can."

"gorman's on isley road?"

"yes, i may need a steak." i laughed.

"it's a date, beautiful." he said.

the hospital parking lot was fucking full, i drove around four times before an old lady in a pontiac backed out. "thanks" i whispered. god, half the county must be sick. the elevator was jambed, people coughing and sneezing. the ccu waiting room was vacant, lissell was the only patient in the eight bed unit. i knocked gently on the door.

"good morning." nurse eversole said. she looked like shit.

"hi, you working 24 hour shifts?" i smiled.

"thirty six, everyone has the bug." i really don't think i'd want her taking care of me.

"did lissell have a good night?"

"she did fine dear, they extubated her around midnight and she slept well until the lab and x-ray woke her at six."

"is she sound asleep now?"

"no, just dozing, i gave her a little bit of morphine an hour ago. she'll be glad to see you." i smiled and walked over to lissel's bed.

"mornin' beautiful." i said, cheerfully.

"i don't feel beautiful." she softly said.

"you look great anyway lissel."

"you're pretty spiffy yourself, girlfriend."

"presentable?"

"more than that." she smiled. "have you met with zimmerman?"

"a while last night, he has some news though, we're having luch in a while."

"good, he's a mover, i'd hate for all of this to be in vain." god, so would i; i had to follow through with this mess, whatever it took. i don't believe the police would have ever linked gray's murder to leroy, it was my mouth that got everything started. lissell was precious to me, i was so sorry that she had gotten hurt.

"it won't be in vain baby, i promise, i'm going to do everything detective zimmerman asks me to, we'll get leroy, we'll get him." lissell smiled and dozed back off to sleep.

"she's a brave young woman." nurse eversole said as she put her strong arm around my neck.

"yes, she is." i said, as a tear ran down my face.

"gorman's" was bustling. it was a favorite steakhouse of the local businessmen, specializing in porterhouse and rib eye. it was a colorful crowd in business suits and fancy ties. it was difficult to tell the ladies from the gents. harry waved at me from a back table. i smiled and walked toward him.

"you look ravishing carlee."

"why, thank you sir." i said as i sat down.

"i thought i liked you bare foot and blue jeaned, but i don't know now." i smiled.

"you look nice yourself harry." and he did, his suit was black with red pin stripes, his tie was red, silk maybe, i like the bit of gray in his short sideburns, plus, he smelled good.

"hungry?" he asked.

"famished." i replied. a rather charming waitress in a short skirt appeared and ask us if we were ready to order. i looked up at her.

"busy, wolfgang?" no, i wasn't going to start any shit here.

"ma'me?"

i smiled. "i'll have a porterhouse, medium rare, a baked potato with chives and sour cream, drenched in butter, a tossed salad with blue cheese dressing, no make it the other smelly kind that begins with an r." she smiled, wrote, but didn't reply.

"roquefort, i believe." harry said.

"smart ass." i replied.

"carlee, did you ever know a guy name charlie coleman?"

"charlie 'don't you know', sure, he was a crazy guy."

"did you know him well?"

"we hung together a lot, charlie 'don't you know' was a friend to a lot of students."

"how about cletus bowman?"

"i knew him."

"well?"

"i suppose, he came by the white tray a lot."

"was cletus a student?"

"oh, no, cletus worked at the campus book store, cleaning up and stuff, i doubt that he graduated from high school."

"mr. coleman informed the bowling green police today that bowman was an eye witness to your friend hazel's murder. said cletus told him a day after her murder, he figured bowman went to the police." harry was dead serious.

"then the case will be reopened?" i asked.

"there's more, there's an eyewitness to the girl in new jersey. if all goes well, we'll have leroy or leo by the end of the week."

"that's great news harry, how can i thank you?"

"there are ways carlee." he smiled. our smelly salads arrived. i nibbled the lettuce and bitter cheese, chasing it with a club cracker. "this cheese is made from ewe's milk carlee, they keep it in caves until it moulds." shit. i almost puked.

"never mind the history harry." i could imagine some old big titted sheep, and the moulding, rotting process, god. the stuff was good though, every bite of it.

"miss mccord." i looked up, it was sam, mr. schlamile.

"hi, how are you?" i asked.

"fine. thank you, i hollared at you this morning, at the hospital, i went to see miss stacy, you didn't hear me."

"oh, i'm sorry sam, i didn't hear you." i said.

"how's the little boy, sidney, and his watch, and i see he didn't get his wish." he looked at harry.

"forgive me sam, meet mr. zimmerman, he's with the police."

"i know captain zimmerman, thank you." he added.

"sam's a bail bondsman carlee, we've known each other for years." harry said.

"boy, you're a jack of all trades sam."

"a little bit of thisa and little bit of thata, we's all gotta make a living already."

i smiled, "sidney is fine sam, and his watch is great, thank you again."

"good to see you again, carlee, our friend had a close one."

"yes she did, sam, a very close call." sam petted my head and left. i couldn't help feeling sorry for him, so old, so overweight, so jewish, but, so nice. the steaks arrived.

"you don't like him, do you?" i asked.

"who, sam, it's not that i don't like him."

"i don't believe you harry, i can tell."

"oh, carlee. people in my business just don't cotton too well to people who make money off the less fortunate."

"you don't cotton to bail bondsmen?"

"well, they get a lot of bad guys out of jail and sometimes they do more harm. but frankly, i don't like his pawnbroking activities. now, eat your steak." and it was delicious.

"lissell likes him harry."

"so do i, not until you explained him to me, but now i love 'sam the sham' how's that?"

"better." i smiled. when we finished, harry drove to the sealbach hotel. it had been here since the turn of the century.

"come on." he said. i walked with him, up to the desk where he asked for his key.

"do you live here harry?" i asked.

"for this week carlee, just for the week." the lobby was old and weird, it put me in mind of "the shining" kind of creepy. we entered the elevator, and harry pushed a button. it stopped on the ninth floor. he held my hand, and we walked to 906, harry unlocked the door. the room was beautiful, all in antiques, maybe from when the hotel was first built. the bed was large, a dozen or more red roses sat on a table along with a bottle of champagne on ice. i hugged him.

"oh harry, i can't marry you." he smiled.

"just have a glass of wine with me baby, and indulge me a little." i wasn't sure what that meant, but i did promise lissell that i'd do anything detective zimmerman asked me too. gulp. he took off his suit coat and hung it on a ladderback chair. then he pulled his shoes off and sat down on the bed.

"the roses are beautiful harry." i said.

"so are you carlee." he grabbed my hand and pulled me toward him, then he kissed me and manoeuvred me to the bed with him. i kicked my shoes off, harry felt good like this. "oh, girl, you feel so very good, tight against me."

"you'll do too harry."

"do you want some champagne?"

"of course i do." harry poured two very fancy glasses full and handed me one. we drank, it tickled my nose.

"any good?" he asked.

"better than beer." i replied.

"here's to the demise of leroy." i would drink to that. "now, indulge me. loosen my belt." and i did. "now unbutton my trousers. and touch me." he was half hard, but with a little bit of navigation he became rock hard. i kissed him. "i want you carlee." he softly said.

"i want you too harry, but there's a problem."

"here, have another glass and explain." he said. i drank.

"it's that time of the month harry." i sadly said. he grabbed my pony tail and told me that was alright.

"i understand baby, but there are other ways, just undress for me." i didn't really have a problem with that, you either understood ragtime or you didn't. i undressed, and neatly hung my clothes on the back of a chair. after i took my bra off, i looked squarely at harry. he pulled his trousers and shorts down and proceeded to jack off slowly. i smiled, then stepped out of my panties, they were of course bloody.

"damn, i'll be right back harry, don't finish." i said. i searched through my purse until i found a tampon, god, i didn't just need a change, i needed a shower. as i headed for the bathroom harry asked if he could watch me change. "it might make you sick after such a big lunch love." i answered.

"no it won't, i want to see all of you carlee." he got off the bed, removed the rest of his clothes and went to the bathroom. he returned with a huge white towel and laid it on the middle of the bed. his dick was large, maybe the biggest i'd ever seen, large purple head, looking as if it were about to shoot. i was hot, i'll admit, i was wondering if he had a condom. i think that condoms are the sexiest things in the world, i don't really like the way they feel, and maybe it's because they look like exactly what they are. i made a boy cum once while i was putting it on him, i fantasized harry doing that also. i bent down to sniff the lovely roses before we started, and harry grabbed my butt and pulled me toward him. his hand stroked my pussy, blood and all, and he kissed me hard.

"you're wonderful carlee, just perfect." he picked me up and laid me on the plush white towel. he was in control of me at this moment. he tugged lightly at the string of my tampon. when it was out, the dam didn't burst, i was slowing down a little i suppose. "i've got to have you carlee, if only for a second." i nodded, and he fell on top of me. it didn't go on great, but god, he filled me up. he moaned and kissed me as he played with my naked breasts. "oh god carlee!"

"go on harry!" i cried as i got closer and closer. i reached down and grabbed his balls as he moved in and out. bingo! it was happening, and oh god how great. i felt the first shot of hot cum as harry moaned. we moaned together for what seemed like a minute. then, he nibbled my neck as he grew softer and softer inside of me. his dick twitched inside me, harry was quick on the trigger, but so was i. we kissed and i melted.

on the way home, i couldn't believe that i had made love with detective zimmerman. i couldn't figure out why i did it, other than i wanted to. i guessed that was good enough. damn, sometimes all the midol on earth won't do half as much as a bloody romp in the sack. i owed harry. the more i thought about it, the more i owed. the roses, the expensive hotel room, everything had been so preplanned, and i took it hook, line and sinker. my dad would have been ashamed of my behavior, but i couldn't help being me. i ran a tub of hot water and opened a beer. as i sat in the mayflower chair, a thousand thoughts running through my head as i drank and listened to the water run. and i smiled to myself.

the water was great, just what the doctor ordered. i downed another beer as i sat naked on the side of my bed. dad had taught me how to shoot pool when i was studying chess, i looked forward to playing with mr. anderson though it had been a couple of years since i'd played, i sure didn't want to get rusty. i chose a tampon, jeans and a short sleeved sweat shirt with a tiger on it as my pool room attire. white socks and new nikes, yes, that would do. my hair was wet from washing, so i blew it dry and put it up in a pony tail. i rarely went braless, but my tits were so sore that i didn't think i could stand putting one of those bastards on. i didn't swing and sway much anyway, yet, i would die if no one noticed.

mr. anderson arrived. "my god girl, well if you ain't the cat's pajamas, well, the tiger's anyway. i hugged him.

"you better missy?"

"i'm great, pork." i said.

"you smile like you are, your daddy send you to an orthodonist when you were a kid?" he asked.

"i wore braces and spacers until i was 18." i answered. he smiled.

"hey now, let's rock and roll, there's pigs' foots to be et and pool to be shootin'."

"i'm ready."

it was a beautiful drive down bardstown road to "red's". lawns manicured to perfection, old aristocratic homes remodeled every decade since before the civil war. mr. anderson parked right in front of reds, i could hear lovely music emanating for the "shack."

"bob dylan there tonight carlee?"

"i don't think so, but it's his music pork." "reds" was a typical pool room, men who drove pickup trucks and donned black leather jackets, pierced girls who looked like they could suck the chrome off a '99 harley.

"rack em son!" pork pie yelled to a man ten years his senior. "nine ball." huge jars lined the bar, containing substances pickled in formahaldyde (or worse). "name your poison babe." pork pie said. i thought.

"what's you need pork pie?" the bar tender asked.

"we'll start with two bud lights eddy, and take it from there." both men smiled.

"you need glasses?"

"fuck naw, the can's fine." mr. anderson was a trip, that's all i could think. the beer went down great.

"i'll have a pig's foot, two eggs, a rack of pickled bologny and a box of crackers." i said.

"by god, that sounds good to me too, only i'll have three pig's feet. and add a beef jerky to the lady's order." this wasn't harriet's, no-sir-eee. the stuff was good though, i ate it all and wondered if i'd pay for it tomorrow. i probably would, i was sure my chlolestoral would be in quadruple digits. pork pie ordered us another beer. it chased everything down greatly. i lit a cigarette, my fourth of the day, and was fine with the world.

"you want me to play a song carlee?"

"sure, are "hank dogs" on there?"

"ain't never heard of them, but i'll check. no, how about rodger miller?"

"he'll do." mr. anderson inserted a quarter into the juke box and pushed a-9.

"dang me."

"i hate that son-of-a-bitch!" one of the chrome suckers said. boy friend hit her in the head with a pool cue.

"shut up bitch! that's one of my favorite songs," the large head shaven man answered.

"watch that shit!" eddy shouted. the man nodded as another girl picked chrome sucker off the floor.

"come on carlee, your break." pork and i walked over to our table. i took precise aim, and scattered the nine balls all over the table.

"tsh, tsh, most unfortunate." he said. i looked at the poor girl, she was stunned and bleeding. "one ball in the corner pocket, long rail." pork pie proclaimed as he aligned his shot. eddy threw a pickled pig's foot at skin head who was slapping chrome sucker around.

"enough of that mr., or i'll ask lawrence and eugene to escort your fat ass out of here." skin head stopped immediately, as if he knew lawrence and eugene.

"god damnit, you all shut up!" pork hollared. "i'm trying to do this shot."

"fuck you lard ass." skin head said to pork. he was turning red when he grabbed the skinny end of his cue and hit skin head in the nose with the large end, as hard as he could. skin head hit the floor hard, unconscious. "son-of-a-bitch!" pork yelled as the pool room broke into a fight. lawrence and eugene made a very quick entrance at the request of eddy, i had to sit down. talk about bruisers, gulp. these two had to be over six foot six at least, and i estimated their combined weight at 500 lbs. they hit girls in black leather jackets and guys wearing tattoos and red doo rags, they were ferocious and had the place contained in less than five minutes. mr. anderson came and sat down beside me.

"godalmighty." he said, "they're awesome." i had to agree. neither of them spoke a word, like santa claus, went straight to their work. "man, imagine a platoon of guys like that on our side in the middle east, fuckin' war wouldn't last three days."

"if i were the enemy, it wouldn't last three minutes." i said. "wonder what they're like in bed?"

"oh carlee, guys like them don't do girls, they do llamas and horses and sheep." he grinned. i couldn't imagine lawrence and eugene being shepherds, grizzly bear keepers maybe.

"please continue your game mr. anderson." eddy said.

"thank you fast eddy, and our compliments to your bouncers, they're really something."

"they're top of the line mr. anderson, from hungary, badasses, worked in las vegas."

"let me amend that shot, carlee, one ball in the end pocket, long rail." mr. anderson set up his shot with profound professionalism, minnasota fats style. and the one ball traveled nicely into the pocket. "now, the two in the corner." well called. the three ball wasn't so well positioned. he called a three railed bank shot, that nick varney would have had difficulty with, and by god it went in. the four ball was essentially straight in, a long rail shot. it teetered on the pocket, then luckily dropped in. in order to even hit the five ball, mr. anderson had to bank the cue off of two rails.

"gotcha!" i exclaimed. he smiled, then hit the cue on its underneath side, the ball jumped right over the eight and hit the five which after a dazzling approach, wasn't struck hard enough. it died in front of the pocket.

"very nice shot mr. anderson." eddy said. pork lit a cigar and shook his head in agreement.

"needed a little more english fast eddy." he smiled slyly.

"a very little." eddy said. i made the five ball, very unimpressively, then called the six into the corner, which i made.

"my friend ain't bad either eh?" the seven had to contact three rails, it was the only logical call. in the process, my cue ball tipped the nine, and sent it hurling to the corner pocket. "why you little hustler." mr. anderson said. i smiled, although i knew it was only luck. "that goddamn shot cost me five grand fast eddy." he acknowledged with dignity. two awesome looking men entered red's.

"laverne anderson?" one asked. pork looked up.

"fbi." he said, showing the shield in his wallet. "i'm special agent brent norris, and this is captain ned worthington from the state gambling commission. you are under arrest mr. anderson, for violation of krs 75.302, you have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you, you have the right to an attorny, if you can not afford one...."

"i've used johnny cochran for years, i have attorneys retained. i'm wondering why a federal agent is in on this while i'm charged with kentucky revised statutes?" neither men answered this.

my god, mr. anderson arrested, i couldn't believe it, i thought about andy's babe, maybe that was it. i too wondered about the federal agent.

"here honey, drive yourself home." he handed me his car keys. i ran and grabbed him, held him tight.

"oh, pork." i cried.

"nothin' to worry about baby, nothin' at all, they've got nuthin' on me, i'll be out tomorrow." tears ran down my face, i was so scared. pork pulled the check for $5,000.00 from his wallet and handed it to me.

"now sugar, you cash this, you hear?" i heard...

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