The Secret Garden Of Martha Grim.
By Richard A. Lopez (c) 1992
Page 12....
Quinn was fighting to keep his mind on track, but the smell of the flowers, the possibility of a concussion and the beauty of the woman before him were making it very hard to concentrate. Not since Katie Cole, had he found himself so distracted, in the presence of another human being, but this was indeed different. Though her skin was the color of alabaster, her smile had a comforting warmth to it, but there something off putting. Though warmth emanated from it, there was no sincerity in it. Quinn hadn't been a cop for this long and be able to recognize when someone was trying to hide something. He just had to figure out what it was.
He decided to bluff.
"Ms.Grim...Martha, don't get me wrong, I really appreciate you helping me, and I know with what you saw, I could put Cole away in State prison for a long time. What I don't understand, is, why would he be following you for just a gardening job?"
Quinn to a drink of his tea, the taste, though soothing, was just this side of chemical.
She was still wandering amongst her plants, stroking them here, saying thing to them there, "Sheriff," she started, "I'm sure I don't know why someone like Mr.Cole would do what he does. I just know that he's an animal. I would like nothing more than to see him behind bars."
"How are you feeling Sheriff?" Her sudden question caught him off guard.
Quinns immediate response was a blank stare.
"Sheriff?" She was suddenly next to him, her hand resting on his arm, her grip oddly firm for a woman who seemed so frail, so delicate. "Maybe you should sit back down? After all, that was a nasty accident."
Quinn came back around, "What accident? I was attacked...Cole. You saw.."
He was being led to the couch again, but he was closer to the mantle. Looking at the photos, he could see the similarities in the women. They were dressed differently, yes, but that was where the difference ended.
It was like those photos you took at the county fair, when you dressed in the old time clothing, but it couldn't be. That would make her over two hundred years old, maybe more! Impossible!
She sat him down, noticed where he was looking, her grip tightened on his hand. "You're wondering about the photographs, aren't you Sheriff? Shall I tell you?"
She was speaking to him, but she sounded so far away. "You see, I could never let someone like Willie Cole touch my garden. For seven generations, a Grim woman has lived here and tended to these gardens, and only a Grim woman. No male as ever touched these beauties." She was stroking his hand again.
"You see Sheriff," she continued, "My Mother found these plants, lovely flowers, she was a botanist you see, and brought them from this land far away, its been so long, I hardly remember where it was they came from. Nevertheless, try as she might, she could not get them to seed. But I did. I found out quite by accident, how. When they first fed from me, I thought I was going to die, but the next day, it was like I had been reborn." She had become quite animated now. What was she talking about, plants?
How had the subject turned to plants, and why couldn't he move?
She was talking again..."My parents couldn't understand what was happening, they wanted to get rid of the plants, they were not producing, after all, but I knew different. Each night, the plants fed, they fed off me Sheriff, my blood was the life giving fertilizer they needed. In turn, they gave me back a little of their own nature, their essence if you will. Soon they and I became as one. My parents could never see this, and made the mistake of trying to destroy them. I couldn't have that, and well, my babies needed to eat. I found that if they took a full human source, they would only need little from me. Better still, I found something about myself, Sheriff, I had become not only part of my babies, but the vessel that was needed to deliver the nutrients that they needed."
What was going on. Quinn could hear what she was saying, but he could not believe it. Was she referring to the plants. The flowers? This couldn't be. She was standing now. Her dress had fallen to the floor. She was model perfect, her body sculpted to perfection. Why couldn't he move? He just sat and stared. And caught movement from the corner of his eye.
The plant. The vibrant colored one in the five foot vase, it moved, he knew it did! She walked over to the plant as long tendrils of vines reached up to lovingly caress her body. Turning to face him, he could see just enough to notice that the vines had seemed to enter her back.
"You see Sheriff, my babies are of a very old species, as old as this earth. They have been around since before man stepped on the ground, if it were not for my Mother, they would have perished, extinguished on a lone deserted isle far off the Marianna's that had once flourished with life, but due to a volcanic explosion, became separated, the plants forced to survive by doing what they do best. Surviving by predation."
She was walking back towards him, naked, exquisite, he tried but couldn't look away, couldn't move.
She was trailing the vines behind her.
"What you see here around you, are the survivors of that one plant that my Mother brought back. It was only fitting that her and my Father gave of themselves to further the existence of the species." She was standing before him. Placing his hands on her body. He pulled away, "No..not..not right, I need to go.." he tried to rise, only succeeded in knocking the tea setting to the floor.
Martha Grim laughed, and easily pushed him back onto the couch, straddling him.
She drew him to her breasts, holding him there, "Come Sheriff," She said, "Take this body, feed my babies...Feed me. Give me life."
She pushed him back again, this time ripping open his shirt, laying bare his chest and arms. Her hands trailing across his chest, down his arms.
Quinn found he was gasping for air, all he could do was stare. Something had happened to her hands, her nails had grown, they seemed longer, sharper, almost hollow...
Her hair flowed down, cascading like rivulets of water across her breasts. Drawing back her shoulders, her arms arched as long pointed, thorn-like nails, speared forward stabbing deep into each side of his chest.
Quinn let out a sharp cry, but that was all, as the blood flowed out of his body, and was syphoned through the tendril like vines that extended out of Martha Grims naked back, and into the vase behind her
Mournful sounds of pain and pleasure floated down the ghostly silent halls and into the mid-afternoon sky...
Friday, July 27, 2007
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
The Secret Garden Of Martha Grim.
By Richard A. Lopez (c) 1992
Page 11...
Dreams of floating crossed though Quinn's mind, as he felt a coolness about his forehead. Was he still in Porters Crossing, or was this what it was like when you stepped over to the great beyond? Then it started coming back to him. The highway, Cole, the pain, the beating. Cole!
Roy sat up with a start! Just as quickly, white hot explosions of pain, like fourth of July fireworks, resounded in his head, forcing him to lie back slowly. The soft cushions a little comfort to the realization that he had just had the tar kicked out of him by that delinquent, Willie Cole. New thoughts also started to come to his mind, if this was the hospital, where was the noise? And the smell, that wasn't antiseptic he smelled. Smelled, fragrant, like rose, but heavier. He couldn't quite place it. No, this was no hospital, but where then, and who?
Someone must have seen him lying by the road, and picked him up. Taken him to their home. Again, who had done this, and had they called his office?
Dammit! He needed questions answered and he needed them answered now!
Quinn tried to open his eyes again, slowly, very slowly. His vision was blurred for a moment, but he soon focused on a huge vase holding a bouquet of the darkest red roses he'd ever seen. Another vase held some brightly colored flowers, the colors so bright, it almost hurt to look at them. For a moment, just for an instant, he could have sworn the plant moved. Almost as if it were watching him. The colors were vibrant, Quinn thought they were fake, but he noticed the vases were filled with water, so they had to be real. Still, there was something surreal about them, he could not help but stare at there beauty.
Forcing himself to look away, he took stock of his surroundings. No, this was definitely not a hospital. It looked more like a museum then a home. Everywhere you looked, there were very old furnishings, yet they looked like they had just been bought yesterday. It was an antiques dealers wet dream, he thought, this stuff had to be worth a fortune. There were also more of the flowers and plants. They were on every surface that could hold a pot or a vase. Not only that, but the vases, like the ones that held the brightly colored flowers and roses, were at least five feet tall! Free standing and made from an dark looking, opaque glass. Man, Quinn thought, those bastards must weigh a ton without the water!
He also noticed that there were no metal or plastic objects to be found, anywhere in the room, which itself, was large enough to hold a very big gathering if one were so inclined. Everything in the room was natural, either wood or plant. Even the shades covering the windows were bamboo. He wasn't sure of which there were more of, the plants or the antiques.
Quinn noticed something else as well. Atop the mantel, of what was probably the biggest stone fireplace he himself had ever seen, were photographs of seven different women. They appeared to be different, yet, but for the manor of way they were dressed,in a way they seemed to be the same person. "It may be just the beating," Quinn muttered to himself, "but I'll be damned if that isn't Martha Grim." Gingerly, Quinn rose from the couch that he'd been resting on, and carefully walked closer for a better look. His ribs were killing him, that damn Cole, when he got back to the office, he was going make his life a living hell. Willie didn't know he hadn't called the office, but as long as he thought he did, that was all Quinn needed to keep him paranoid. Quinn went to reach for one of the photos, when a voice spoke from behind him, "I see you've regained consciousness, Sheriff."
Quinn turned to find a living representative of one of the photographs standing in the doorway holding a tray. Quinn tried to hide the fact that she had just about scared the living crap out of him, coming in as she did, he hadn't even heard the door open. "Are you sure you should be standing so soon, Sheriff?" She spoke as she entered, "That was a nasty beating you took" she crossed over to a table and set the tray she was carrying, down. From what he could make out, it looked like it had tea servings. What Quinn could use right now was a good stiff drink and a phone, in that order.
She was speaking when he came back to reality, "...from what I saw that Mr.Cole should be put in jail! That was just awful!"
"Are you alright Sheriff? Maybe you should sit down?"
Quinn just stood there. She'd seen it. She witnessed the beating. Cole was dead.
He looked at her, he had seen her before, but only from a distance. Even in this dim light of the room, he could tell that she was a very striking woman. Standing there, dumbfounded, Quinn could not help but stare at this woman's beauty.
In a way, he could not blame Cole for following her.
She spoke again, "Sheriff, I must insist you sit down, that was a very nasty attack."
She came over to where he stood and lead him back to the couch.
Quinn allowed himself to be led back to the couch, never once taking his eyes off the guide, all the while, the ever present scent of roses had grown heavier and heavier.
As they sat, Quinn could feel her gaze on him, as if she were staring into his very being. He brought himself back to the present. "You witnessed what Cole did?" he asked, he was feeling a bit groggy, "Everything? But I saw him following you. That's why I stopped him. Matter of fact I thought he meant to cause you harm."
"Well Sheriff," she said, her hand still held his, "I had seen you pull him over in my rear view mirror, and seeing how he'd been harassing me as of late, I thought it might be a perfect time to lodge my complaint, but I had to find a place to turn my car around." She was stroking his hand. Her touch was oddly cool, downright cold.
"Sheriff?" she asked, "Are you sure you're alright?" This time her hand moved up to his arm.
The coldness of her touch brought Quinn back around again, "I...I'm sorry, Ms.Grim, I..I don't mean to stare, it's just." he stammered. Blinking away the fog that was clouding his thoughts, Quinn seemed to have to fight to get his thoughts in order, "How did you get me back here, Ms.Grim, surely someone must have stopped to help you?" He met her gaze, her eyes were the greenest he'd ever seen, almost too green to be real.
"Why Sheriff, when I saw Mr.Cole speeding off, and then you lying there, I had to help you. You were barely conscious." she was stroking his arm, why was she stroking his arm?
"No offense Ms.Grim, but I'm not a small guy, how did you manage to get me into the car, let alone up off the roadside?" he said, that smell was almost intoxicating.
"Well Sheriff, you were, after all, semi-conscious. All it took was a little coaching and I guided you back into my car." she said in a demure fashion.
She had gotten up to get the tea. "Really Sheriff, getting you back her was no trouble. I mean, what kind of citizen would I be, if I'd left you there, it such a state." She seemed to be floating, her gown flowing behind her on some unfelt, unseen breeze.
Shaking his head, Quinn tried hard to focus, the smell of roses was almost suffocating. "Tell me, Ms.Grim.."
"Martha, please." she interrupted, serving him his tea.
"OK, Martha," he continued, taking the tea, the cup so fragile in his hands, "Why would Cole be bothering you?"
"In all the time I've been Sheriff, I've not received one complaint about you."
"He's a brute, Sheriff. He's angry because I won't let him on my property. I keep telling him I do my own gardening, I don't need a gardener." she said as she stroked the leaves of one of her plants. The plant seemingly came to life at her touch. He must have a concussion, he thought, he was seeing things. All the plants seemed more animated, and that damned roses smell.
Something wasn't right.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
To be Continued
By Richard A. Lopez (c) 1992
Page 11...
Dreams of floating crossed though Quinn's mind, as he felt a coolness about his forehead. Was he still in Porters Crossing, or was this what it was like when you stepped over to the great beyond? Then it started coming back to him. The highway, Cole, the pain, the beating. Cole!
Roy sat up with a start! Just as quickly, white hot explosions of pain, like fourth of July fireworks, resounded in his head, forcing him to lie back slowly. The soft cushions a little comfort to the realization that he had just had the tar kicked out of him by that delinquent, Willie Cole. New thoughts also started to come to his mind, if this was the hospital, where was the noise? And the smell, that wasn't antiseptic he smelled. Smelled, fragrant, like rose, but heavier. He couldn't quite place it. No, this was no hospital, but where then, and who?
Someone must have seen him lying by the road, and picked him up. Taken him to their home. Again, who had done this, and had they called his office?
Dammit! He needed questions answered and he needed them answered now!
Quinn tried to open his eyes again, slowly, very slowly. His vision was blurred for a moment, but he soon focused on a huge vase holding a bouquet of the darkest red roses he'd ever seen. Another vase held some brightly colored flowers, the colors so bright, it almost hurt to look at them. For a moment, just for an instant, he could have sworn the plant moved. Almost as if it were watching him. The colors were vibrant, Quinn thought they were fake, but he noticed the vases were filled with water, so they had to be real. Still, there was something surreal about them, he could not help but stare at there beauty.
Forcing himself to look away, he took stock of his surroundings. No, this was definitely not a hospital. It looked more like a museum then a home. Everywhere you looked, there were very old furnishings, yet they looked like they had just been bought yesterday. It was an antiques dealers wet dream, he thought, this stuff had to be worth a fortune. There were also more of the flowers and plants. They were on every surface that could hold a pot or a vase. Not only that, but the vases, like the ones that held the brightly colored flowers and roses, were at least five feet tall! Free standing and made from an dark looking, opaque glass. Man, Quinn thought, those bastards must weigh a ton without the water!
He also noticed that there were no metal or plastic objects to be found, anywhere in the room, which itself, was large enough to hold a very big gathering if one were so inclined. Everything in the room was natural, either wood or plant. Even the shades covering the windows were bamboo. He wasn't sure of which there were more of, the plants or the antiques.
Quinn noticed something else as well. Atop the mantel, of what was probably the biggest stone fireplace he himself had ever seen, were photographs of seven different women. They appeared to be different, yet, but for the manor of way they were dressed,in a way they seemed to be the same person. "It may be just the beating," Quinn muttered to himself, "but I'll be damned if that isn't Martha Grim." Gingerly, Quinn rose from the couch that he'd been resting on, and carefully walked closer for a better look. His ribs were killing him, that damn Cole, when he got back to the office, he was going make his life a living hell. Willie didn't know he hadn't called the office, but as long as he thought he did, that was all Quinn needed to keep him paranoid. Quinn went to reach for one of the photos, when a voice spoke from behind him, "I see you've regained consciousness, Sheriff."
Quinn turned to find a living representative of one of the photographs standing in the doorway holding a tray. Quinn tried to hide the fact that she had just about scared the living crap out of him, coming in as she did, he hadn't even heard the door open. "Are you sure you should be standing so soon, Sheriff?" She spoke as she entered, "That was a nasty beating you took" she crossed over to a table and set the tray she was carrying, down. From what he could make out, it looked like it had tea servings. What Quinn could use right now was a good stiff drink and a phone, in that order.
She was speaking when he came back to reality, "...from what I saw that Mr.Cole should be put in jail! That was just awful!"
"Are you alright Sheriff? Maybe you should sit down?"
Quinn just stood there. She'd seen it. She witnessed the beating. Cole was dead.
He looked at her, he had seen her before, but only from a distance. Even in this dim light of the room, he could tell that she was a very striking woman. Standing there, dumbfounded, Quinn could not help but stare at this woman's beauty.
In a way, he could not blame Cole for following her.
She spoke again, "Sheriff, I must insist you sit down, that was a very nasty attack."
She came over to where he stood and lead him back to the couch.
Quinn allowed himself to be led back to the couch, never once taking his eyes off the guide, all the while, the ever present scent of roses had grown heavier and heavier.
As they sat, Quinn could feel her gaze on him, as if she were staring into his very being. He brought himself back to the present. "You witnessed what Cole did?" he asked, he was feeling a bit groggy, "Everything? But I saw him following you. That's why I stopped him. Matter of fact I thought he meant to cause you harm."
"Well Sheriff," she said, her hand still held his, "I had seen you pull him over in my rear view mirror, and seeing how he'd been harassing me as of late, I thought it might be a perfect time to lodge my complaint, but I had to find a place to turn my car around." She was stroking his hand. Her touch was oddly cool, downright cold.
"Sheriff?" she asked, "Are you sure you're alright?" This time her hand moved up to his arm.
The coldness of her touch brought Quinn back around again, "I...I'm sorry, Ms.Grim, I..I don't mean to stare, it's just." he stammered. Blinking away the fog that was clouding his thoughts, Quinn seemed to have to fight to get his thoughts in order, "How did you get me back here, Ms.Grim, surely someone must have stopped to help you?" He met her gaze, her eyes were the greenest he'd ever seen, almost too green to be real.
"Why Sheriff, when I saw Mr.Cole speeding off, and then you lying there, I had to help you. You were barely conscious." she was stroking his arm, why was she stroking his arm?
"No offense Ms.Grim, but I'm not a small guy, how did you manage to get me into the car, let alone up off the roadside?" he said, that smell was almost intoxicating.
"Well Sheriff, you were, after all, semi-conscious. All it took was a little coaching and I guided you back into my car." she said in a demure fashion.
She had gotten up to get the tea. "Really Sheriff, getting you back her was no trouble. I mean, what kind of citizen would I be, if I'd left you there, it such a state." She seemed to be floating, her gown flowing behind her on some unfelt, unseen breeze.
Shaking his head, Quinn tried hard to focus, the smell of roses was almost suffocating. "Tell me, Ms.Grim.."
"Martha, please." she interrupted, serving him his tea.
"OK, Martha," he continued, taking the tea, the cup so fragile in his hands, "Why would Cole be bothering you?"
"In all the time I've been Sheriff, I've not received one complaint about you."
"He's a brute, Sheriff. He's angry because I won't let him on my property. I keep telling him I do my own gardening, I don't need a gardener." she said as she stroked the leaves of one of her plants. The plant seemingly came to life at her touch. He must have a concussion, he thought, he was seeing things. All the plants seemed more animated, and that damned roses smell.
Something wasn't right.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
To be Continued
Sunday, July 22, 2007
The Secret Garden Of Martha Grim.
By Richard A. Lopez (c) 1992
Page 10...
Willie was no longer grinning, either, now he was getting angry. Cop or no cop, nobody, not even his late parents spoke to him like this. No one spoke to Willie Cole like a punk.
Speaking through gritted teeth, he said, "What the problem Quinn? Not enough jaywalkers in town? You have to come out here to the highway and hassle us honest working folk." It wasn't a question.
Quinn yanked the trucks door open, causing Cole to spill out of his seat and onto the graveled shoulder of the highway.
"What the hell is wrong with you, cop!?" Willie was screaming as Quinn hauled him to his feet, slamming him roughly chest first, against the side of the truck.
"You gone crazy, you old bastard!"
"I'm sorry Willie, you should have been wearing that seat belt, you know." Quinn said. "Just stand there and shut the hell up before I shove this stick up your ass and make a Popsicle out of you!"
"Listen you little shit," Quinn continued, "You're anything but honest! If I had my way, I'd see you splattered all over this highway. Now you want to tell me what you were doing weaving in and out of traffic like some drunken idiot?" Quinn's face was now red with anger.
Willie could not believe the Sheriff's strength. Though Cole stood a good Six feet-four inches tall, it was only an inch and a half taller than Quinn, Quinn was no slouch, and at fifty-five, he was pretty solid himself.
Willie tried, but he could not believe the grip that Quinn had on him. The old man was strong, he'd give him that, and Willie couldn't break his grip, but if he kept him talking maybe he could get him to drop his guard.
"Since when is it against the law to change lanes, cop!" Willie shouted at Quinn.
"It's against the law when I say it is,punk! What, you think just because I was friends with your Ma and Pa, that gives you ca rte Blanche to do whatever it is you feel like doing in this County?" Quinn continued leaning on Cole, pushing his chest harder into the wooden rails that made up the stake bed portion of his truck.
Quinn words were like venom in Cole's ear, "Now you little asshole, you want to tell me what you were doing following Martha Grim's car like junkie jonesing after a fix?"
Willie could feel slivers of wood pushing through his shirt and into his chest. Sensing the futility of his struggle, he decided to go a different route, leverage.
Willie let his body suddenly go slack. The Sheriff, thinking that he had gained the upper hand, had begun to loosen his grip a bit, it was all that Cole needed. Willie was anything if he was fast, and he quickly moved his right foot inside and between Quinn's legs. Using a combination of upper and lower body strength, Willie pushed upward and then out against Quinn, keeping his right leg tangled up with Quinn's, sending them both toppling backward toward the pavement.
Willie wasted no time. He leaped onto Quinn's chest, knocking the wind from him, leaving him gasping for air. He then reached down and grabbed the sheriffs gun from it's holster. Lifting the still gasping sheriff by his shirt collar, Cole brought him to within inches of his face, "Who's the asshole now, Sheriff?", Willie hissed at Quinn, then brought the gun in a backhanded motion down across the bridge of his nose. Hard.
The blow dazed Quinn, but he couldn't black out. He had to hold on. He was not sure just how serious Cole was, was he going to shoot him or just hit him again? You could never tell with irrational types, like him. He had to try to reason with him, lull him into a false sense of security, just until he could get the gun back, then he was going to beat the shit out of him.
Problem was, it was hard to breathe, let alone talk, with Cole straddling his chest the way he was, but he had to try. "What are you going to do now, Cole?" Quinn said, the blood and Cole sitting on him was making every word and effort.
"You really blew it now, but you haven't made the big mistake. get off now, and just give up and we'll forget the whole rap in the nose bit."
"I don't know cop. What say I just blow your brains all over the shoulder and call it a fucking day? Huh?" Willie said, the barrel of the gun just inches from Quinn's forehead. "You think someone is going to save you? look around, no cars for miles. I could blast you right now, and no one would know the difference. Yeah, shoot you now, then you and my old man could be sucking brews in hell, seeing how's you and he were such good buddies and all."
Cole was grinning like a mad man. Quinn knew he was crazy enough to do it. So he just had to do what he did best when he played poker. Bluff.
"Go ahead, asshole," Quinn said, spitting blood out at Cole. "Go on and shoot, but know this, I radioed in my position, and if they don't hear from me soon, my deputies are gonna come looking, and when they find me, they'll come looking for you. Why? Cause I told them who I was pulling over, had good laugh about it, too."
"So you go right ahead, and know this, when they catch you, and they will. They're gonna stick your ass in the chair and fry you. Then me and your 'Old Man' will be waiting to kick your ass all over hell!"
Quinn's bluff must have worked, because Cole soon rose, still keeping the gun on him, but he got up nonetheless. "Okay old man," Willie said as he rose to his feet, "You win for now, but your luck will only hold for so long."
Willie backed away a bit, as Quinn started to rise, but as the was doing so, Cole reared back ad kicked him, hard, in the ribs. Sending the older man sprawling back to the pavement.
"That's for slamming me into my truck!" Cole shouted. He grabbed Quinn by the hair and smashed him with the butt of the revolver again and again. Then proceeded to kick him two more times in the ribs. "That's for just being an asshole cop!" he said, as he drove a knee into Quinn's face, sending him onto his back on the pavement.
In his semi-conscious state, an explosion tore through his head, Quinn wasn't sure if that idiot had just shot him, or if it was just the pain from the beating.
Turning to his side, he could see the origin of the loud bang. Cole was shooting out the tires on his police cruiser.
Coming over to him, Cole opened the chamber of the revolver and dumped the spent casing's onto Quinn's chest.
"Remember cop, I'm Willie Cole,"he said triumphantly, "And no one fucks with Cole. Not my old man, not some rich bitch, and not even you cop!" Willie yelled down at Quinn's prone body.
Throwing the revolver into the fields, Cole got into his truck and drove off down the highway toward the town. Leaving Quinn lying unconscious on the side of the
road.
By Richard A. Lopez (c) 1992
Page 10...
Willie was no longer grinning, either, now he was getting angry. Cop or no cop, nobody, not even his late parents spoke to him like this. No one spoke to Willie Cole like a punk.
Speaking through gritted teeth, he said, "What the problem Quinn? Not enough jaywalkers in town? You have to come out here to the highway and hassle us honest working folk." It wasn't a question.
Quinn yanked the trucks door open, causing Cole to spill out of his seat and onto the graveled shoulder of the highway.
"What the hell is wrong with you, cop!?" Willie was screaming as Quinn hauled him to his feet, slamming him roughly chest first, against the side of the truck.
"You gone crazy, you old bastard!"
"I'm sorry Willie, you should have been wearing that seat belt, you know." Quinn said. "Just stand there and shut the hell up before I shove this stick up your ass and make a Popsicle out of you!"
"Listen you little shit," Quinn continued, "You're anything but honest! If I had my way, I'd see you splattered all over this highway. Now you want to tell me what you were doing weaving in and out of traffic like some drunken idiot?" Quinn's face was now red with anger.
Willie could not believe the Sheriff's strength. Though Cole stood a good Six feet-four inches tall, it was only an inch and a half taller than Quinn, Quinn was no slouch, and at fifty-five, he was pretty solid himself.
Willie tried, but he could not believe the grip that Quinn had on him. The old man was strong, he'd give him that, and Willie couldn't break his grip, but if he kept him talking maybe he could get him to drop his guard.
"Since when is it against the law to change lanes, cop!" Willie shouted at Quinn.
"It's against the law when I say it is,punk! What, you think just because I was friends with your Ma and Pa, that gives you ca rte Blanche to do whatever it is you feel like doing in this County?" Quinn continued leaning on Cole, pushing his chest harder into the wooden rails that made up the stake bed portion of his truck.
Quinn words were like venom in Cole's ear, "Now you little asshole, you want to tell me what you were doing following Martha Grim's car like junkie jonesing after a fix?"
Willie could feel slivers of wood pushing through his shirt and into his chest. Sensing the futility of his struggle, he decided to go a different route, leverage.
Willie let his body suddenly go slack. The Sheriff, thinking that he had gained the upper hand, had begun to loosen his grip a bit, it was all that Cole needed. Willie was anything if he was fast, and he quickly moved his right foot inside and between Quinn's legs. Using a combination of upper and lower body strength, Willie pushed upward and then out against Quinn, keeping his right leg tangled up with Quinn's, sending them both toppling backward toward the pavement.
Willie wasted no time. He leaped onto Quinn's chest, knocking the wind from him, leaving him gasping for air. He then reached down and grabbed the sheriffs gun from it's holster. Lifting the still gasping sheriff by his shirt collar, Cole brought him to within inches of his face, "Who's the asshole now, Sheriff?", Willie hissed at Quinn, then brought the gun in a backhanded motion down across the bridge of his nose. Hard.
The blow dazed Quinn, but he couldn't black out. He had to hold on. He was not sure just how serious Cole was, was he going to shoot him or just hit him again? You could never tell with irrational types, like him. He had to try to reason with him, lull him into a false sense of security, just until he could get the gun back, then he was going to beat the shit out of him.
Problem was, it was hard to breathe, let alone talk, with Cole straddling his chest the way he was, but he had to try. "What are you going to do now, Cole?" Quinn said, the blood and Cole sitting on him was making every word and effort.
"You really blew it now, but you haven't made the big mistake. get off now, and just give up and we'll forget the whole rap in the nose bit."
"I don't know cop. What say I just blow your brains all over the shoulder and call it a fucking day? Huh?" Willie said, the barrel of the gun just inches from Quinn's forehead. "You think someone is going to save you? look around, no cars for miles. I could blast you right now, and no one would know the difference. Yeah, shoot you now, then you and my old man could be sucking brews in hell, seeing how's you and he were such good buddies and all."
Cole was grinning like a mad man. Quinn knew he was crazy enough to do it. So he just had to do what he did best when he played poker. Bluff.
"Go ahead, asshole," Quinn said, spitting blood out at Cole. "Go on and shoot, but know this, I radioed in my position, and if they don't hear from me soon, my deputies are gonna come looking, and when they find me, they'll come looking for you. Why? Cause I told them who I was pulling over, had good laugh about it, too."
"So you go right ahead, and know this, when they catch you, and they will. They're gonna stick your ass in the chair and fry you. Then me and your 'Old Man' will be waiting to kick your ass all over hell!"
Quinn's bluff must have worked, because Cole soon rose, still keeping the gun on him, but he got up nonetheless. "Okay old man," Willie said as he rose to his feet, "You win for now, but your luck will only hold for so long."
Willie backed away a bit, as Quinn started to rise, but as the was doing so, Cole reared back ad kicked him, hard, in the ribs. Sending the older man sprawling back to the pavement.
"That's for slamming me into my truck!" Cole shouted. He grabbed Quinn by the hair and smashed him with the butt of the revolver again and again. Then proceeded to kick him two more times in the ribs. "That's for just being an asshole cop!" he said, as he drove a knee into Quinn's face, sending him onto his back on the pavement.
In his semi-conscious state, an explosion tore through his head, Quinn wasn't sure if that idiot had just shot him, or if it was just the pain from the beating.
Turning to his side, he could see the origin of the loud bang. Cole was shooting out the tires on his police cruiser.
Coming over to him, Cole opened the chamber of the revolver and dumped the spent casing's onto Quinn's chest.
"Remember cop, I'm Willie Cole,"he said triumphantly, "And no one fucks with Cole. Not my old man, not some rich bitch, and not even you cop!" Willie yelled down at Quinn's prone body.
Throwing the revolver into the fields, Cole got into his truck and drove off down the highway toward the town. Leaving Quinn lying unconscious on the side of the
road.
Saturday, July 21, 2007
The Secret Garden Of Martha Grim
By Richard Lopez (c)1992
Page 9...
Things never worked out the way you wished they would. In the short time they had known each other, Bob Cole had grown to be a good friend. Wished he could say the same about his boy, Willie. In the eight years that Roy had been sheriff of Porters Crossing, he had never known William Cole to do a damn thing right. Quinn knew the type. Muscle bound bullies, who used their size to push their weight around, using intimidation to get what they wanted. In eighteen years of police work, ten in the city as a street cop and eight as sheriff of Porters Crossing, Roy had seen his share of assholes and none were so brave that a good kick in the "chone's" couldn't bring them back to reality.
Yeah, seemed that he'd been surrounded by assholes his entire career. From that dipstick deputy chief that was his reason for leaving the L.A.P.D., to the idiot he was tailing right now, they were all the same, and they gave him a headache when he though about it.
Well, he had been following Cole for the better part of a mile a not once had he seen him use his signal lights to change lanes, and he could have sworn he was following someone and came pretty close to hitting two vehicles. Now, he thought, he would be remiss in his duties if he didn't keep up on traffic offenders and such.
Quinn hit the roof lights, and popped the siren. Yes, today was going to be an interesting day.
Cole had been to intent on keeping up with Martha Grim, that he hadn't notice the sheriff trailing behind him, and when the siren sounded, it made his heart leap into his throat.
Part of him wanted to make a run for it, but he knew that with his truck loaded down as it was, he'd never outrun a police cruiser. He decided to pull over, and watch Martha drive out of sight. Dammit, another chance blown.
Willie looked to see who was coming up to his car. He could not believe it! It was that goddamn Quinn! That bastard never gave him a break, always on him for something, since the first day he'd become sheriff.
What made it worse, he'd been one of his dad's friends. "Well come on then," he shouted out of his rolled down window, "Let's get it over with. You think I got all day for this penny ante shit!"
Quinn had gotten out of his car, pulling the club from its slot next to his seat, taking his time as he walked up to Cole's truck. Keeping the club out of its holder on his belt, Quinn leaned on the roof of Cole's truck, looking down, he said "Good afternoon Willie, are we going to a fire, or do you just like driving recklessly on hot afternoons?"
Looking up at Quinn, Willie said, "Why Sheriff Quinn, are we looking for a new career as a comedian? If that's so, then you better get a better writer 'cause that material sucks." A wry grin crossing his thin lips.
"That's a good one, smart ass, or should I say dumb ass? Then again, with you the two seem to go hand in hand." Quinn's smile was replaced by look of contempt. God, how he disliked this bum.
By Richard Lopez (c)1992
Page 9...
Things never worked out the way you wished they would. In the short time they had known each other, Bob Cole had grown to be a good friend. Wished he could say the same about his boy, Willie. In the eight years that Roy had been sheriff of Porters Crossing, he had never known William Cole to do a damn thing right. Quinn knew the type. Muscle bound bullies, who used their size to push their weight around, using intimidation to get what they wanted. In eighteen years of police work, ten in the city as a street cop and eight as sheriff of Porters Crossing, Roy had seen his share of assholes and none were so brave that a good kick in the "chone's" couldn't bring them back to reality.
Yeah, seemed that he'd been surrounded by assholes his entire career. From that dipstick deputy chief that was his reason for leaving the L.A.P.D., to the idiot he was tailing right now, they were all the same, and they gave him a headache when he though about it.
Well, he had been following Cole for the better part of a mile a not once had he seen him use his signal lights to change lanes, and he could have sworn he was following someone and came pretty close to hitting two vehicles. Now, he thought, he would be remiss in his duties if he didn't keep up on traffic offenders and such.
Quinn hit the roof lights, and popped the siren. Yes, today was going to be an interesting day.
Cole had been to intent on keeping up with Martha Grim, that he hadn't notice the sheriff trailing behind him, and when the siren sounded, it made his heart leap into his throat.
Part of him wanted to make a run for it, but he knew that with his truck loaded down as it was, he'd never outrun a police cruiser. He decided to pull over, and watch Martha drive out of sight. Dammit, another chance blown.
Willie looked to see who was coming up to his car. He could not believe it! It was that goddamn Quinn! That bastard never gave him a break, always on him for something, since the first day he'd become sheriff.
What made it worse, he'd been one of his dad's friends. "Well come on then," he shouted out of his rolled down window, "Let's get it over with. You think I got all day for this penny ante shit!"
Quinn had gotten out of his car, pulling the club from its slot next to his seat, taking his time as he walked up to Cole's truck. Keeping the club out of its holder on his belt, Quinn leaned on the roof of Cole's truck, looking down, he said "Good afternoon Willie, are we going to a fire, or do you just like driving recklessly on hot afternoons?"
Looking up at Quinn, Willie said, "Why Sheriff Quinn, are we looking for a new career as a comedian? If that's so, then you better get a better writer 'cause that material sucks." A wry grin crossing his thin lips.
"That's a good one, smart ass, or should I say dumb ass? Then again, with you the two seem to go hand in hand." Quinn's smile was replaced by look of contempt. God, how he disliked this bum.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
The Secret Garden Of Martha Grim.
by Richard A. Lopez (c)1992
Page 8....
Willie Cole found that it was not hard at all to follow Martha's car, she actually drove the speed limit! He made no attempt to conceal the fact either. Though she tried to weave in and out of what little traffic there was on the county road, Cole was actually having fun toying with her. "No way you're losing me, bitch!" he said aloud. "I'm gonna hound your sweet ass till you give me what I want."
All the time he was pursuing Martha, Willie had failed to notice that he had picked up a tail of his own. Sheriff Roy Quinn had been shadowing Cole ever since he noticed him pull onto the main highway. Quinn didn't like the bastard, never had. He could never understand how such fine upstanding folks like Bob and Kate Cole could have such a shit for a son. Though Quinn had only known the Cole's for a short time, he had come to like them very much. Bob Cole was a very hard working man, All his clients liked him and he always had a kind word for everyone. His wife, Kate, worked at the county clerks office. Even at the age of fifty-two, she was a very attractive woman. At least Roy thought so. Though he would never let Bob know that, he had too much respect for the man. Still, he was always a bit jealous that he had not met her earlier in his lifetime.
But that was three years ago. Now, because some idiot didn't know when he'd had enough, Bob and Kate Cole were dead. Killed on the highway like some stray animal.
The kicker was that the guy that hit them, only suffered minor injuries. He was now doing seven years in the State penitentiary. Seven years for two lives, hardly seemed fair. He was a rich kid, from old family money and that is what saved him. If Roy had had his way, the runt would have been staring down the business end of his twelve gauge shotgun, saying his sweet goodbye's to this world.
by Richard A. Lopez (c)1992
Page 8....
Willie Cole found that it was not hard at all to follow Martha's car, she actually drove the speed limit! He made no attempt to conceal the fact either. Though she tried to weave in and out of what little traffic there was on the county road, Cole was actually having fun toying with her. "No way you're losing me, bitch!" he said aloud. "I'm gonna hound your sweet ass till you give me what I want."
All the time he was pursuing Martha, Willie had failed to notice that he had picked up a tail of his own. Sheriff Roy Quinn had been shadowing Cole ever since he noticed him pull onto the main highway. Quinn didn't like the bastard, never had. He could never understand how such fine upstanding folks like Bob and Kate Cole could have such a shit for a son. Though Quinn had only known the Cole's for a short time, he had come to like them very much. Bob Cole was a very hard working man, All his clients liked him and he always had a kind word for everyone. His wife, Kate, worked at the county clerks office. Even at the age of fifty-two, she was a very attractive woman. At least Roy thought so. Though he would never let Bob know that, he had too much respect for the man. Still, he was always a bit jealous that he had not met her earlier in his lifetime.
But that was three years ago. Now, because some idiot didn't know when he'd had enough, Bob and Kate Cole were dead. Killed on the highway like some stray animal.
The kicker was that the guy that hit them, only suffered minor injuries. He was now doing seven years in the State penitentiary. Seven years for two lives, hardly seemed fair. He was a rich kid, from old family money and that is what saved him. If Roy had had his way, the runt would have been staring down the business end of his twelve gauge shotgun, saying his sweet goodbye's to this world.
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
The Secret Garden Of Martha Grim.
By Richard A. Lopez (c) 1992
Page 7....
Ann Hawkins had always been a very pretty woman. Even after having the brat, as she referred to Tommy, she stilled managed to retain her almost hour glass figure. The pregnancy was not a difficult one, thank god for small favors, and she had taken all the exercise classes she could safely take while in that state. There was no way she was going to be like those other broads that let themselves go after squeezing out a few runts. She knew John had wanted more children, but she drew the line after one. If he was so fired up to have more, let him shit out a couple! More power to him.
She watched him in the driveway as he played with Tommy awhile, gazing at Willie's truck speed down the street after the Grim bitch's ancient Lincoln. She knew Willie had the hots for Martha Grim. The slob probably thought of her while he was screwing me, she thought to herself. John probably did too, for that matter. Hell, it didn't matter, she thought, she was just using his dumb ass to get what she wasn't getting from her husband. Using him just as she had been using John. Until the next one came along, that was the plan. She never really intended on marrying John, it just happened. It was actually fun for a while, but then Tommy came along, and things got really fucked. Dirty diapers, messy formula, all the damn screaming at two in the morning. She still doesn't know how she did it. Damned doctors office. She would have aborted it if they hadn't screwed up and called the house with the results on a day when John was working at home. He was ecstatic. She didn't have the heart to go through with it. Besides, he waited on her hand and foot, she got used to the pampering, the attention. All that changed the minute Tommy was born, then, all the attention stopped, just like that. He spoiled the kid, and the kid knew it. Even as an infant, she could swear that the brat knew that all he had to do was holler and John would drop everything and go running to see what was wrong.
Ann would have to ask him two, or three times to do something for her, but the kid, never. She never thought she'd be jealous of a six year old, but she was, and she hated it. Hated Tommy for it.
Then Cole came along.
She remembered the day he came to the door, his six foot-plus frame filled the entire doorway. His muscular body made John look like a skinny teenager in comparison. John had hired him to do the gardening, and he was to start that day, She remembered it was very hot that day and she was wearing the blue sundress John had bought her for her birthday just the week before. She also remembered she that she had nothing on underneath, and from his gaze, she could tell that Cole had noticed as well.
Cole was finishing up his work, when she invited him in for a glass of lemonade and to discuss the rate he was going to charge, monthly. It was by no accident, that he spilled lemonade on himself, nor were there any good intentions involved when he took off his tank top. The unveiling of his well chiseled and tanned body, touched off a spark in her, she thought had long since died after baby was born. Soon she found herself clutching every part of him. Kissing, biting, licking at the spilled lemonade, still wet on his skin. He all but ripped the flimsy sundress from her body, his rough hands traveling over her, making her shudder and moan, exciting her even more. Pushing aside what was left of the breakfast dishes, he took her there, on the kitchen table, picking her up as lightly as if she were a rag doll. She tore at his pants, almost fighting to get them off, and suddenly he was inside her. She almost screamed with joy at the passion that was ignited inside her.
Willie Cole bought about a fire that she thought was near but impossible. One she never felt with John. With every thrust, it burst inside her, each one harder than the last. Her legs wrapped tightly around him, pulling him deeper into her, not wanting to release him as he drove harder and faster. Deeper, it seemed, each time. Till at last they came together there, on the table. She felt completely exhausted.
Could not even rise from the table, as he lay atop her, breathing like a wild beast.
What had this man just done to her?
As the weeks went on, their lovemaking continued. In the shower, the living room, the bedroom. Once even in the garage, Cole had taken her from behind, the "backdoor" as he referred to it. It was painful at first, but could not believe how much she enjoyed it. She was sure the entire neighborhood heard her moans. Hell, she knew other women on the street talked, but she didn't care. Like she said, she was getting what she wanted. She even knew John was suspicious, didn't care about that either. He even bought her big indignity act, when he confronted her about sleeping with Cole. Hell, I'm not sleeping with him, you ass, she was fucking him! There's not goddamn sleeping involved.
She didn't even care about the asshole. She just wanted fulfillment. But, if that was true, then why did it burn her so much every time she saw Cole talking to, or hanging around Martha Grim's house. Cole had told her he was trying to get some damn secret that was going to make him rich. Something to do with her flowers or some bullshit like that. "Yeah," she said aloud, "Just like a man. More likely, you just want to get into her panties. Always letting the little head do the thinking for you, dumb ass!"
She watched as John and the "Brat" started walking up towards the front door. "He'll probably want dinner or something like that." she said to no one in particular. The turned and opened the freezer to grab two steaks out and tossed them in the microwave. "Don't sweat it, just nuke it, I always say." she said again, speaking to herself. If he doesn't like, well that's just to damn bad, she thought.
Ann just wanted out.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
to be continued.....
By Richard A. Lopez (c) 1992
Page 7....
Ann Hawkins had always been a very pretty woman. Even after having the brat, as she referred to Tommy, she stilled managed to retain her almost hour glass figure. The pregnancy was not a difficult one, thank god for small favors, and she had taken all the exercise classes she could safely take while in that state. There was no way she was going to be like those other broads that let themselves go after squeezing out a few runts. She knew John had wanted more children, but she drew the line after one. If he was so fired up to have more, let him shit out a couple! More power to him.
She watched him in the driveway as he played with Tommy awhile, gazing at Willie's truck speed down the street after the Grim bitch's ancient Lincoln. She knew Willie had the hots for Martha Grim. The slob probably thought of her while he was screwing me, she thought to herself. John probably did too, for that matter. Hell, it didn't matter, she thought, she was just using his dumb ass to get what she wasn't getting from her husband. Using him just as she had been using John. Until the next one came along, that was the plan. She never really intended on marrying John, it just happened. It was actually fun for a while, but then Tommy came along, and things got really fucked. Dirty diapers, messy formula, all the damn screaming at two in the morning. She still doesn't know how she did it. Damned doctors office. She would have aborted it if they hadn't screwed up and called the house with the results on a day when John was working at home. He was ecstatic. She didn't have the heart to go through with it. Besides, he waited on her hand and foot, she got used to the pampering, the attention. All that changed the minute Tommy was born, then, all the attention stopped, just like that. He spoiled the kid, and the kid knew it. Even as an infant, she could swear that the brat knew that all he had to do was holler and John would drop everything and go running to see what was wrong.
Ann would have to ask him two, or three times to do something for her, but the kid, never. She never thought she'd be jealous of a six year old, but she was, and she hated it. Hated Tommy for it.
Then Cole came along.
She remembered the day he came to the door, his six foot-plus frame filled the entire doorway. His muscular body made John look like a skinny teenager in comparison. John had hired him to do the gardening, and he was to start that day, She remembered it was very hot that day and she was wearing the blue sundress John had bought her for her birthday just the week before. She also remembered she that she had nothing on underneath, and from his gaze, she could tell that Cole had noticed as well.
Cole was finishing up his work, when she invited him in for a glass of lemonade and to discuss the rate he was going to charge, monthly. It was by no accident, that he spilled lemonade on himself, nor were there any good intentions involved when he took off his tank top. The unveiling of his well chiseled and tanned body, touched off a spark in her, she thought had long since died after baby was born. Soon she found herself clutching every part of him. Kissing, biting, licking at the spilled lemonade, still wet on his skin. He all but ripped the flimsy sundress from her body, his rough hands traveling over her, making her shudder and moan, exciting her even more. Pushing aside what was left of the breakfast dishes, he took her there, on the kitchen table, picking her up as lightly as if she were a rag doll. She tore at his pants, almost fighting to get them off, and suddenly he was inside her. She almost screamed with joy at the passion that was ignited inside her.
Willie Cole bought about a fire that she thought was near but impossible. One she never felt with John. With every thrust, it burst inside her, each one harder than the last. Her legs wrapped tightly around him, pulling him deeper into her, not wanting to release him as he drove harder and faster. Deeper, it seemed, each time. Till at last they came together there, on the table. She felt completely exhausted.
Could not even rise from the table, as he lay atop her, breathing like a wild beast.
What had this man just done to her?
As the weeks went on, their lovemaking continued. In the shower, the living room, the bedroom. Once even in the garage, Cole had taken her from behind, the "backdoor" as he referred to it. It was painful at first, but could not believe how much she enjoyed it. She was sure the entire neighborhood heard her moans. Hell, she knew other women on the street talked, but she didn't care. Like she said, she was getting what she wanted. She even knew John was suspicious, didn't care about that either. He even bought her big indignity act, when he confronted her about sleeping with Cole. Hell, I'm not sleeping with him, you ass, she was fucking him! There's not goddamn sleeping involved.
She didn't even care about the asshole. She just wanted fulfillment. But, if that was true, then why did it burn her so much every time she saw Cole talking to, or hanging around Martha Grim's house. Cole had told her he was trying to get some damn secret that was going to make him rich. Something to do with her flowers or some bullshit like that. "Yeah," she said aloud, "Just like a man. More likely, you just want to get into her panties. Always letting the little head do the thinking for you, dumb ass!"
She watched as John and the "Brat" started walking up towards the front door. "He'll probably want dinner or something like that." she said to no one in particular. The turned and opened the freezer to grab two steaks out and tossed them in the microwave. "Don't sweat it, just nuke it, I always say." she said again, speaking to herself. If he doesn't like, well that's just to damn bad, she thought.
Ann just wanted out.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
to be continued.....
Monday, July 16, 2007
The Secret Garden Of Martha Grim.
By Richard A. Lopez (c) 1992
Page 6.....
After that day, little things kept popping into John's suspicions. A work glove or shirt, tools left behind to be conveniently picked up on the next weeks visit. John ached deep inside, at the pit of his stomach, every time he thought of that slime putting his hands on her, letting alone being in the same bed with her. What was worse, was that Ann expected the same from him! Finally, when he could no longer keep his suspicions to himself, he confronted Ann with the allegation that she and Cole were having an affair. An affair, that was a laugh. They were screwing each other like dogs in heat! Matter of fact, that's just how he put it to her. Talk about righteous indignation. Ann was furious at the thought of even remotely having anything to do with the likes of Willie Cole, especially in the bedroom. John cited what had led to his suspicions, the items he found, the new found sexual attitude. He stated it wasn't like her to turn their bedroom into a porn movie set. That was it. She let loose on him with a verbal assault that he had never seen. As to the items left behind by Cole, if he was a forgetful idiot, it was by no fault of hers. She had no power over his being an imbecile. As for the bedroom, well, just because she felt that their love-life needed a bit of spicing up, and that their marriage could benefit from trying a few "different" things, well, if he didn't like it, then his prudish ass could plan on sleeping in the spare bedroom from now on!
That was six weeks ago. Their marriage had become one of convenience. They were cordial to each other, but that was all. John set himself up in the spare bedroom, next to Tommy's room. Tommy, he was confused at first, but like all kids, he adjusted by thinking mommy and daddy were just playing a silly game.
Sure, it was a game, alright. Except the only one having fun was Ann. He was sure that she and Cole were still at it. One day he even caught him coming out of the house, just as he pulled up into the driveway. Willie said that Mrs.Hawkins had been good enough to let him use the bathroom. When John went into the house, Ann just gave him a contemptuous look and went into the bedroom, the door slamming shut behind her.
He knew she wanted out, he felt it deep in his soul. Either she didn't have the guts to leave, or was going to try for a big divorce settlement. John didn't care...Hell, he'd pay her to go, just so long as she left him and Tommy alone. He knew she didn't want Tommy, wouldn't take him, and he'd be damned if that bastard Cole would raise his son. No, Tommy would never go with her, he was sure of it. Besides, if it came down to it, he'd play the affair card. He'd been gathering evidence, just in case she tried to do something stupid or sneaky. "You want out", he thought to himself..."Fine, but you go alone...not with my son."
It was all a matter of time, he thought as he watched Cole speed off after Martha Grim. John closed the car door, and carried his son house. "Not in a million years, right sport?" he said to his son.
Tommy just looked at him and giggled...daddy was silly.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
to be continued
By Richard A. Lopez (c) 1992
Page 6.....
After that day, little things kept popping into John's suspicions. A work glove or shirt, tools left behind to be conveniently picked up on the next weeks visit. John ached deep inside, at the pit of his stomach, every time he thought of that slime putting his hands on her, letting alone being in the same bed with her. What was worse, was that Ann expected the same from him! Finally, when he could no longer keep his suspicions to himself, he confronted Ann with the allegation that she and Cole were having an affair. An affair, that was a laugh. They were screwing each other like dogs in heat! Matter of fact, that's just how he put it to her. Talk about righteous indignation. Ann was furious at the thought of even remotely having anything to do with the likes of Willie Cole, especially in the bedroom. John cited what had led to his suspicions, the items he found, the new found sexual attitude. He stated it wasn't like her to turn their bedroom into a porn movie set. That was it. She let loose on him with a verbal assault that he had never seen. As to the items left behind by Cole, if he was a forgetful idiot, it was by no fault of hers. She had no power over his being an imbecile. As for the bedroom, well, just because she felt that their love-life needed a bit of spicing up, and that their marriage could benefit from trying a few "different" things, well, if he didn't like it, then his prudish ass could plan on sleeping in the spare bedroom from now on!
That was six weeks ago. Their marriage had become one of convenience. They were cordial to each other, but that was all. John set himself up in the spare bedroom, next to Tommy's room. Tommy, he was confused at first, but like all kids, he adjusted by thinking mommy and daddy were just playing a silly game.
Sure, it was a game, alright. Except the only one having fun was Ann. He was sure that she and Cole were still at it. One day he even caught him coming out of the house, just as he pulled up into the driveway. Willie said that Mrs.Hawkins had been good enough to let him use the bathroom. When John went into the house, Ann just gave him a contemptuous look and went into the bedroom, the door slamming shut behind her.
He knew she wanted out, he felt it deep in his soul. Either she didn't have the guts to leave, or was going to try for a big divorce settlement. John didn't care...Hell, he'd pay her to go, just so long as she left him and Tommy alone. He knew she didn't want Tommy, wouldn't take him, and he'd be damned if that bastard Cole would raise his son. No, Tommy would never go with her, he was sure of it. Besides, if it came down to it, he'd play the affair card. He'd been gathering evidence, just in case she tried to do something stupid or sneaky. "You want out", he thought to himself..."Fine, but you go alone...not with my son."
It was all a matter of time, he thought as he watched Cole speed off after Martha Grim. John closed the car door, and carried his son house. "Not in a million years, right sport?" he said to his son.
Tommy just looked at him and giggled...daddy was silly.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
to be continued
Friday, July 13, 2007
The Secret Garden Of Martha Grim.
By Richard A. Lopez (c) 1992
Page 5....
All of a sudden it was like she wasn't getting enough fulfilment. Oh they were fine the first few years of their marriage, even after Tommy was born. He thought their sex life was what could be considered normal. Still, after they'd bought the new house, she'd become insatiable. Just this past month, she flat out told him that she wasn't having an orgasm every they made love. So John thought he would be more attentive to her "needs". Still no good.
Then one day he found a work glove on the kitchen counter. He knew it wasn't his, he never wore gloves when he worked on their cars. He'd asked Ann, and she had said it was Cole's. That he left it on the back gate. She didn't want it to get lost so she brought it inside. That she was going to return it to him when he came back the following week.
Innocent enough, or so it seemed. Until that night they were in bed and she suggested they try something different. He didn't mind it at first, but he could have sworn that she told him in the beginning of their relationship that she thought oral sex was disgusting. Apparently, she didn't find it disgusting that night. Soon it became obvious that she was not getting her suggestions from a book or woman's magazine. For someone who at one time frowned at "R" rated movies, their bedroom was becoming positively X-rated. Maybe she was just getting kinky, he thought. Then one day, he had come home from work just as Cole was finishing up. They had one of their rare conversations. Nothing special, sports, cars, the yard. Then Cole had made a sexual remark about one of the neighbors wives, as she walked out to her car. Normally Willie's crude remarks just fly by him, but it was his choice of words that got John thinking. Cole had made reference to the neighbors "back door", and it was the way that he had used the term that got John thinking that Cole might be doing more than mowing the grass and tending the flower garden. Ann had used the same term the night before.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
To Be continued....
By Richard A. Lopez (c) 1992
Page 5....
All of a sudden it was like she wasn't getting enough fulfilment. Oh they were fine the first few years of their marriage, even after Tommy was born. He thought their sex life was what could be considered normal. Still, after they'd bought the new house, she'd become insatiable. Just this past month, she flat out told him that she wasn't having an orgasm every they made love. So John thought he would be more attentive to her "needs". Still no good.
Then one day he found a work glove on the kitchen counter. He knew it wasn't his, he never wore gloves when he worked on their cars. He'd asked Ann, and she had said it was Cole's. That he left it on the back gate. She didn't want it to get lost so she brought it inside. That she was going to return it to him when he came back the following week.
Innocent enough, or so it seemed. Until that night they were in bed and she suggested they try something different. He didn't mind it at first, but he could have sworn that she told him in the beginning of their relationship that she thought oral sex was disgusting. Apparently, she didn't find it disgusting that night. Soon it became obvious that she was not getting her suggestions from a book or woman's magazine. For someone who at one time frowned at "R" rated movies, their bedroom was becoming positively X-rated. Maybe she was just getting kinky, he thought. Then one day, he had come home from work just as Cole was finishing up. They had one of their rare conversations. Nothing special, sports, cars, the yard. Then Cole had made a sexual remark about one of the neighbors wives, as she walked out to her car. Normally Willie's crude remarks just fly by him, but it was his choice of words that got John thinking. Cole had made reference to the neighbors "back door", and it was the way that he had used the term that got John thinking that Cole might be doing more than mowing the grass and tending the flower garden. Ann had used the same term the night before.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
To Be continued....
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
The Secret Garden Of Martha Grim
By Richard A. Lopez (c)1992
Page 4.
John Hawkins was watching the exchange of words that was going on at the end of street. He wondered what trouble that Willie Cole was giving Ms.Grim this time? Every time Cole came around, it seemed that he would go out of his way to bother that poor young woman. Probably trying to hit on her, like he had with John's wife, Ann. Oh yes, John knew that Cole had a thing for Ann. Since the very first day he came to work for them, last August. John had received a notice from the town council, that his yard was beginning to look a bit unsightly, was the term they used, and that according to a city ordinance he would be charged one hundred dollars a month if the the problem was not rectified soon. That's when Willie Cole came knocking. It seemed like a good idea at first. John was still to busy with the new job, and Ann was taking care of the house and Tommy. Plus the price was reasonable enough, Cole only charged forty dollars a month to maintain the yard. He even dressed up the flower bed at no additional cost. That was in the beginning. Once he got set in, he was like a tick. He'd dig in and was almost impossible to remove. His work was shoddy, he was always giving Tommy a bad time. Sometimes, Hawkins truly believed that Cole and the Town Council were in league with one another. He knew it sounded melodramatic, but he would not put it past the two. And then there was Ann.
He and Ann had been married for eight years, and, though the first two had been just fine, She seemed to have changed after Tommy was born. It was like the boy was the stopper in her life. She seemed rarely kind to the boy, constantly on his back for something. Sometimes, and he knew it was wrong to think this, but sometimes it was as if she hated Tommy. John had wondered if Ann had secretly blamed their son for somehow ruining her life. If it was true, he could not understand why. Tommy was everything to him. John loved being a father, and it showed in the relationship he had with his son. Tommy was always there to meet him when he got home from work, with a big smile and hug. He wish he could say the same for his wife. It seemed she was never satisfied with anything. Worse part was that it seemed to be getting worse
as the years went on. If it wasn't money, it was things, or Tommy, or his job. She complained they didn't have enough of the things that she thought were important. Mostly material things, a new car, new furniture. It was always about money. If not money, then his job. Wanting him to be more aggressive with his boss, when it came to asking for a raise, or a promotion.
"Hey", he would tell her, "these are tough times. Business has go to get a little better before I could make such demands."
Besides, they weren't that bad off. They had a roof over their heads, food on the table, and not to mention that closet full of clothes. She had her own car, and that was only three years old. Still it wasn't enough. Then there was the sex thing.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
To be Continued
By Richard A. Lopez (c)1992
Page 4.
John Hawkins was watching the exchange of words that was going on at the end of street. He wondered what trouble that Willie Cole was giving Ms.Grim this time? Every time Cole came around, it seemed that he would go out of his way to bother that poor young woman. Probably trying to hit on her, like he had with John's wife, Ann. Oh yes, John knew that Cole had a thing for Ann. Since the very first day he came to work for them, last August. John had received a notice from the town council, that his yard was beginning to look a bit unsightly, was the term they used, and that according to a city ordinance he would be charged one hundred dollars a month if the the problem was not rectified soon. That's when Willie Cole came knocking. It seemed like a good idea at first. John was still to busy with the new job, and Ann was taking care of the house and Tommy. Plus the price was reasonable enough, Cole only charged forty dollars a month to maintain the yard. He even dressed up the flower bed at no additional cost. That was in the beginning. Once he got set in, he was like a tick. He'd dig in and was almost impossible to remove. His work was shoddy, he was always giving Tommy a bad time. Sometimes, Hawkins truly believed that Cole and the Town Council were in league with one another. He knew it sounded melodramatic, but he would not put it past the two. And then there was Ann.
He and Ann had been married for eight years, and, though the first two had been just fine, She seemed to have changed after Tommy was born. It was like the boy was the stopper in her life. She seemed rarely kind to the boy, constantly on his back for something. Sometimes, and he knew it was wrong to think this, but sometimes it was as if she hated Tommy. John had wondered if Ann had secretly blamed their son for somehow ruining her life. If it was true, he could not understand why. Tommy was everything to him. John loved being a father, and it showed in the relationship he had with his son. Tommy was always there to meet him when he got home from work, with a big smile and hug. He wish he could say the same for his wife. It seemed she was never satisfied with anything. Worse part was that it seemed to be getting worse
as the years went on. If it wasn't money, it was things, or Tommy, or his job. She complained they didn't have enough of the things that she thought were important. Mostly material things, a new car, new furniture. It was always about money. If not money, then his job. Wanting him to be more aggressive with his boss, when it came to asking for a raise, or a promotion.
"Hey", he would tell her, "these are tough times. Business has go to get a little better before I could make such demands."
Besides, they weren't that bad off. They had a roof over their heads, food on the table, and not to mention that closet full of clothes. She had her own car, and that was only three years old. Still it wasn't enough. Then there was the sex thing.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
To be Continued
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
The Secret Garden Of Martha Grim.
By Richard A. Lopez (c) 1992
PAGE 3
She started to say. "There is no secret ingredient in the fertilizer I use, no trickery, no special feed. It's just good gardening skills, that is all."
He could see that she was becoming annoyed, and in truth, Martha was annoyed with all the constant hounding, about so-called secrets and special fertilizers. It was enough to drive a person to distraction.
He was so pre-occupied with the growth of her garden, that she could see it started to show in the lack luster performance in his work on the neighborhood yards. Why they didn't complain was beyond her. His voice brought her out back to the current affair at hand.
"Just want the hell are you trying to say, MS.Grim?", Cole said, over-emphasizing the "Ms." part of her title. "Are you saying that you're a better better gardener than I am?" he spat. "Is that it?"
Before she could answer, he slapped his palm on the roof of her car, and continued, "Or are you just too stuck up to share what you got with us 'poor working class' types? What is it lady. You think you're too damn good for us?"
His quick anger caught her off guard, "Mr.Cole, I never said anything of the sort. All I was saying was..."
"All you said was that you thing your too good for us out here trying to make a decent living, while you sit there in that castle of yours not worrying about a goddamn thing! All I ask is a little favor and I get insults from some snooty tight ass bitch!"
She could tell he was getting angrier by the minute. Clearly this had been planned, and nothing she could say was going to soothe this savage, "Why don't we just terminate this conversation right now, Mr.Cole, so that we can both get on with what we were doing. Or about to do." She said, coolly.
"I'm not done with you, bitch!" Willie said between clenched teeth.
"Flattery, will get you nowhere, Mr.Cole. Now move your truck, or I will start a scene so disturbing, that it just might cost you your entire clientele on this street."
She meet his gaze directly.
Willie could tell she was serious just by the way she was looking at him.
He leaned back off the car, just a bit, then said, "OK lady, you win for now, but this ain't over. Not by a long shot. One or another you're gonna tell me what I want to know. Or I might just decide to find out on my own." His smile grew razor flat.
"You might not like what you find, Mr.Cole." She said, as the window returned to its raised position.
Willie got back in his truck and backed up, leaving just enough room for her to pull that old Lincoln out of the driveway. The huge wrought iron gates, closing after it. He watched as she drove out of sight, then turned to see the gates lock tight, closing off the driveway to the Grim house. "I'll get in there." he said to himself out loud,"and I'll get that secret. Even if it means that something unfortunate has to happen to that bitch, I'll get that secret. No matter what it takes."
Putting his truck in gear, he floored the accelerator, squealing the tires as he sped off down the street and onto the main highway.
He would be back.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
To Be Continued....
By Richard A. Lopez (c) 1992
PAGE 3
She started to say. "There is no secret ingredient in the fertilizer I use, no trickery, no special feed. It's just good gardening skills, that is all."
He could see that she was becoming annoyed, and in truth, Martha was annoyed with all the constant hounding, about so-called secrets and special fertilizers. It was enough to drive a person to distraction.
He was so pre-occupied with the growth of her garden, that she could see it started to show in the lack luster performance in his work on the neighborhood yards. Why they didn't complain was beyond her. His voice brought her out back to the current affair at hand.
"Just want the hell are you trying to say, MS.Grim?", Cole said, over-emphasizing the "Ms." part of her title. "Are you saying that you're a better better gardener than I am?" he spat. "Is that it?"
Before she could answer, he slapped his palm on the roof of her car, and continued, "Or are you just too stuck up to share what you got with us 'poor working class' types? What is it lady. You think you're too damn good for us?"
His quick anger caught her off guard, "Mr.Cole, I never said anything of the sort. All I was saying was..."
"All you said was that you thing your too good for us out here trying to make a decent living, while you sit there in that castle of yours not worrying about a goddamn thing! All I ask is a little favor and I get insults from some snooty tight ass bitch!"
She could tell he was getting angrier by the minute. Clearly this had been planned, and nothing she could say was going to soothe this savage, "Why don't we just terminate this conversation right now, Mr.Cole, so that we can both get on with what we were doing. Or about to do." She said, coolly.
"I'm not done with you, bitch!" Willie said between clenched teeth.
"Flattery, will get you nowhere, Mr.Cole. Now move your truck, or I will start a scene so disturbing, that it just might cost you your entire clientele on this street."
She meet his gaze directly.
Willie could tell she was serious just by the way she was looking at him.
He leaned back off the car, just a bit, then said, "OK lady, you win for now, but this ain't over. Not by a long shot. One or another you're gonna tell me what I want to know. Or I might just decide to find out on my own." His smile grew razor flat.
"You might not like what you find, Mr.Cole." She said, as the window returned to its raised position.
Willie got back in his truck and backed up, leaving just enough room for her to pull that old Lincoln out of the driveway. The huge wrought iron gates, closing after it. He watched as she drove out of sight, then turned to see the gates lock tight, closing off the driveway to the Grim house. "I'll get in there." he said to himself out loud,"and I'll get that secret. Even if it means that something unfortunate has to happen to that bitch, I'll get that secret. No matter what it takes."
Putting his truck in gear, he floored the accelerator, squealing the tires as he sped off down the street and onto the main highway.
He would be back.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
To Be Continued....
Monday, July 09, 2007
The Secret Garden Of Martha Grim..
By Richard A. Lopez (c)1992
PAGE 2 Continued...
Yeah, Willie thought, That house was a beauty alright, but only half as beautiful as its owner. Cole thought of Martha Grim as a goddess. Her long, brown hair cascaded down her back, flowing out over her shoulders like a brunette waterfall. He just knew it had the feel of silk. What else could it be. Her face was smooth, flawless.
Not a wrinkle to be seen. The color of creamy, white milk. Every time he had seen her, as she strolled through her garden, wearing those long flowing sundresses. The type that, if the sun hit just right, you could see right though. She had the figure of a model. No...a Greek goddess. Like those statues chiseled from marble.
Yes, Martha, thought Willie, the Gods had been very good to you in that department.
A leering smile slowly made its way across his face. He'd often dreamed, no, fantasized about what it would be like to get the fair Ms.Grim into bed. For now it was just a midnight fantasy. But soon...soon.
Just at that moment, Willie was hit from behind with a splash of cold water that shocked him back to reality.
It was Tommy Hawkins. The little bastard had hit him square in the back with a water balloon.
"You little shit!" Willie yelled, "I'm gonna kick your ass all the way to New Jersey for that one!"
Tommy just laughed, and fired his cap pistol at Cole, twice, as he sped off on his dirt bike.
Willie started to chase after the boy, but thought twice when he saw the kids father pulling into their driveway. John Hawkins got out of his car just as Tommy came riding up. Willie could see him pick the kid up and treat him as if he were an angel.
The little bastard could do no wrong in daddy's eyes. Willie knew better, and so did the kids mother. For now, the Hawkins kid would have to wait. Willie had other things on his mind.
He turned his attention back to the "Jungle House".
The gates of the Grim House were opening. She must be getting ready to go out, he thought.
Quickly, Cole tossed the last of his equipment in the back of his truck, and got in. Starting it up and moving forward slowly. He was going to get a word in with Ms. Grim, today. Whether she liked it or not.
He could see the front hood of Martha's old model Lincoln pulling slowly out of the gate. This was his chance. Willie tapped the gas peddle, the truck lurched forward, the tires squealing on the asphalt. He came to a halt, just in front of her driveway, she had to brake hard to avoid hitting Cole's truck.
Getting out of the truck, Willie sauntered over to the drivers side of Martha's car and motioned for her to roll down the window. Now was just as good a time as any to hit her up for the "secret". She wasn't going anywhere, as long as his truck was blocking the way.
A few minutes passed, and then the window came down a couple of inches. The scent of lilacs hit Cole like a soft slap to the face. She looked at him with a subtle contempt, and spoke at last, "Just what do you think you are doing, Mr.Cole?" The words coming out with just a hint of spite.
Willie put on his best sheepish grin, and tossed his hair with his hand, "Why Ms.Grim, I do believe that you and I were leaving 'bout the same time. I'm awful sorry 'bout that."
The look in her eye's said she wasn't buying it. He had to think fast. Willie was trying to see what she was wearing, but the window was down but a few inches, and the interior was too dark to make out anything but the cold resentful eyes staring back at him.
That, and the scent of perfume...was it lilacs, or roses?
Roses, he thought.
"Yes Mr.Cole, it would seem as such" She said after a what seemed a long while. Her voice, soft but firm. Cold.
Willie just decided to come out and ask, "Well ma'am, now that I got you here, I had been meaning to ask you," he said, trying his best to sound sincere.
"It's about your garden, Ms Grim,"....
He could see it...like a change in a storm, the eyes flashed like lightening....
"Mr.Cole, We have been over this before.."
By Richard A. Lopez (c)1992
PAGE 2 Continued...
Yeah, Willie thought, That house was a beauty alright, but only half as beautiful as its owner. Cole thought of Martha Grim as a goddess. Her long, brown hair cascaded down her back, flowing out over her shoulders like a brunette waterfall. He just knew it had the feel of silk. What else could it be. Her face was smooth, flawless.
Not a wrinkle to be seen. The color of creamy, white milk. Every time he had seen her, as she strolled through her garden, wearing those long flowing sundresses. The type that, if the sun hit just right, you could see right though. She had the figure of a model. No...a Greek goddess. Like those statues chiseled from marble.
Yes, Martha, thought Willie, the Gods had been very good to you in that department.
A leering smile slowly made its way across his face. He'd often dreamed, no, fantasized about what it would be like to get the fair Ms.Grim into bed. For now it was just a midnight fantasy. But soon...soon.
Just at that moment, Willie was hit from behind with a splash of cold water that shocked him back to reality.
It was Tommy Hawkins. The little bastard had hit him square in the back with a water balloon.
"You little shit!" Willie yelled, "I'm gonna kick your ass all the way to New Jersey for that one!"
Tommy just laughed, and fired his cap pistol at Cole, twice, as he sped off on his dirt bike.
Willie started to chase after the boy, but thought twice when he saw the kids father pulling into their driveway. John Hawkins got out of his car just as Tommy came riding up. Willie could see him pick the kid up and treat him as if he were an angel.
The little bastard could do no wrong in daddy's eyes. Willie knew better, and so did the kids mother. For now, the Hawkins kid would have to wait. Willie had other things on his mind.
He turned his attention back to the "Jungle House".
The gates of the Grim House were opening. She must be getting ready to go out, he thought.
Quickly, Cole tossed the last of his equipment in the back of his truck, and got in. Starting it up and moving forward slowly. He was going to get a word in with Ms. Grim, today. Whether she liked it or not.
He could see the front hood of Martha's old model Lincoln pulling slowly out of the gate. This was his chance. Willie tapped the gas peddle, the truck lurched forward, the tires squealing on the asphalt. He came to a halt, just in front of her driveway, she had to brake hard to avoid hitting Cole's truck.
Getting out of the truck, Willie sauntered over to the drivers side of Martha's car and motioned for her to roll down the window. Now was just as good a time as any to hit her up for the "secret". She wasn't going anywhere, as long as his truck was blocking the way.
A few minutes passed, and then the window came down a couple of inches. The scent of lilacs hit Cole like a soft slap to the face. She looked at him with a subtle contempt, and spoke at last, "Just what do you think you are doing, Mr.Cole?" The words coming out with just a hint of spite.
Willie put on his best sheepish grin, and tossed his hair with his hand, "Why Ms.Grim, I do believe that you and I were leaving 'bout the same time. I'm awful sorry 'bout that."
The look in her eye's said she wasn't buying it. He had to think fast. Willie was trying to see what she was wearing, but the window was down but a few inches, and the interior was too dark to make out anything but the cold resentful eyes staring back at him.
That, and the scent of perfume...was it lilacs, or roses?
Roses, he thought.
"Yes Mr.Cole, it would seem as such" She said after a what seemed a long while. Her voice, soft but firm. Cold.
Willie just decided to come out and ask, "Well ma'am, now that I got you here, I had been meaning to ask you," he said, trying his best to sound sincere.
"It's about your garden, Ms Grim,"....
He could see it...like a change in a storm, the eyes flashed like lightening....
"Mr.Cole, We have been over this before.."
Sunday, July 08, 2007
And now my friends...a little something off the beaten path..
Hi all..I know its been a while, have been busy..and tired..little of both...but see, I was going through my papers and I came across an unfinished something..so over the course of the next fifteen days...I'm going to bore you with a little something I started writing back in '92 Called
THE SECRET GARDEN OF MARTHA GRIM...
By Richard A. Lopez
(c)1992
Willie Cole had been a gardener for three years. Three very hard years, and in that time he had seen many types of landscapes. From Old lady Taylor's weed patch (which she had the nerve to call a lawn), to John Hawkins finely manicured front yard, with the roses his wife loved so much. But he had never seen, nor had he ever been so enticed by grounds such as those of the Grim House.
Or the "Jungle House", as the neighborhood kids referred to Martha Grim's Victorian styled home, on Maplethorn street. Willie serviced just about every house on Maplethorn. Every one that is, but for Ms.Grim's. It was the last house on the that cul-de-sac, a street he considered his own. He'd even gone to such lengths as severly beating one other gardener who had solicited for business on the street.
Yes, Willie thought of this as his street, and he would not rest until the "Jungle House" was his too. The house was completely surrounded by six foot brick wall, topped with deadly looking wrought iron spikes. It was as ominous looking as it was foreboding. The only way in or out, was through an equally high wought iron dual gate, topped with the same vicious looking spikes. Willie had no illusions about the sharpness of those spikes.
Whoever built this baby, was not in the habit of entertaining guests, nor did it appear that there had ever been any.
To the best of his knowledge, Willie could never remember seeing anyone but the owner ever coming or going. Still, the property had to be maintained. But, by who?
He'd been trying to get the Grim account for two years, only to be turned down, every time. From he could make out, while working on the Simpson house directly across the way, when he looked through the gates, he could see an almost obscenly green lawn covering every square inch from gate to front door.
The sun was blocked by the shade of two huge Oak trees, they shaded just about everything, yet the flowers still bloomed! And what flowers! The colors, purples and greens, blues and yellows. So vibrant that they almost hurt to look at. The roses were the scariest of all. Big as softballs, but the color, The color is what got him. The red was so deep, almost as dark as blood. He'd never seen a rose so dark a red.
For the most part, he could recognize a few of the shrubs and plants, but the majority of the flowers eluded him. Try as he might, even going to the local library yeilded no results. That did not concern him, though. What did was the colors.
So vibrant, so deep. They almost seemed alive. Almost hypnotic.
If he could only get her secret, he'd make money hand over fist.
"Yeah," he wondered aloud.."If only I could get that broads secret to what kind of fertalizer she was using, I'd have all these losers paying mega-bucks to have flower beds as beautiful as hers."
---------------------------
To be continued....
Hi all..I know its been a while, have been busy..and tired..little of both...but see, I was going through my papers and I came across an unfinished something..so over the course of the next fifteen days...I'm going to bore you with a little something I started writing back in '92 Called
THE SECRET GARDEN OF MARTHA GRIM...
By Richard A. Lopez
(c)1992
Willie Cole had been a gardener for three years. Three very hard years, and in that time he had seen many types of landscapes. From Old lady Taylor's weed patch (which she had the nerve to call a lawn), to John Hawkins finely manicured front yard, with the roses his wife loved so much. But he had never seen, nor had he ever been so enticed by grounds such as those of the Grim House.
Or the "Jungle House", as the neighborhood kids referred to Martha Grim's Victorian styled home, on Maplethorn street. Willie serviced just about every house on Maplethorn. Every one that is, but for Ms.Grim's. It was the last house on the that cul-de-sac, a street he considered his own. He'd even gone to such lengths as severly beating one other gardener who had solicited for business on the street.
Yes, Willie thought of this as his street, and he would not rest until the "Jungle House" was his too. The house was completely surrounded by six foot brick wall, topped with deadly looking wrought iron spikes. It was as ominous looking as it was foreboding. The only way in or out, was through an equally high wought iron dual gate, topped with the same vicious looking spikes. Willie had no illusions about the sharpness of those spikes.
Whoever built this baby, was not in the habit of entertaining guests, nor did it appear that there had ever been any.
To the best of his knowledge, Willie could never remember seeing anyone but the owner ever coming or going. Still, the property had to be maintained. But, by who?
He'd been trying to get the Grim account for two years, only to be turned down, every time. From he could make out, while working on the Simpson house directly across the way, when he looked through the gates, he could see an almost obscenly green lawn covering every square inch from gate to front door.
The sun was blocked by the shade of two huge Oak trees, they shaded just about everything, yet the flowers still bloomed! And what flowers! The colors, purples and greens, blues and yellows. So vibrant that they almost hurt to look at. The roses were the scariest of all. Big as softballs, but the color, The color is what got him. The red was so deep, almost as dark as blood. He'd never seen a rose so dark a red.
For the most part, he could recognize a few of the shrubs and plants, but the majority of the flowers eluded him. Try as he might, even going to the local library yeilded no results. That did not concern him, though. What did was the colors.
So vibrant, so deep. They almost seemed alive. Almost hypnotic.
If he could only get her secret, he'd make money hand over fist.
"Yeah," he wondered aloud.."If only I could get that broads secret to what kind of fertalizer she was using, I'd have all these losers paying mega-bucks to have flower beds as beautiful as hers."
---------------------------
To be continued....
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