Rita Royale 2 (The Beach House). Terry JD Anderson
That same evening, after a dinner of stir fry for one, Rita sat on the sofa, the sliding glass porch doors wide open in the warm June darkness. She picked up the receiver and dialed a familiar number.
“Arnold here.”
“Hi General, its Rita.”
“Rita. I was just about to call you. I’m told you had some trouble today.”
“Three Middle Eastern looking guys with bags full of drugs. Probably cocaine.”
“Damn sorry that had to happen. I sent you to lotus land for a vacation of sorts, not to fight. You’ve earned a time out, Rita.”
“I had Dixie with me. She’s a capable woman.”
“I talked to Colonel Robinson at the Army base in Sidney. He’s delving into things on that end. Let him do his job, Rita. You just take life easy. Go to a few luncheons, dinner parties with the mayor, that kind of thing. No more shooting.”
“Yes, sir. That’s my hope too.”
“Other than that, how are you?”
Rita sensed something outside. Heard a faint noise that sounded an awful lot like a rifle being cocked. “I’ll call you right back, General.”
She switched off the lamp, picked up her pistol from the coffee table and eased herself off the sofa. She listened, heard the squeak of the front gate. The house was dark except for a dim light from a streetlight in front of Stella’s house casting shadows across the living room floor and walls. She was thinking she really didn’t want to shoot anyone in her new house. She heard something out front again, kept herself low as she crawled up close to the open doors. She peeked out, spotted a crouched figure in the yard, just this side of the short white picket fence. She gripped her pistol, crawled in silence onto the porch and hid behind the low wall lining the front, glanced over the top and rested her gun hand on the flat surface, aimed at a man’s chest. Light reflected off something in his hand.
“Stop right there.”
The man froze but a moment, began rapidly firing his weapon at the sound of Rita’s voice, his bullets slamming into the wall behind her head, Rita ducking for cover, splinters and paint chips landing on her head, back and neck. She heard the gun jam. Looked over the wall and fired three times, her bullets hitting him squarely in the chest.
Another bullet struck the front of her house just near the open glass doors. Rita crawled to the end of the porch, jumped over the low wall, landed barefooted on the paved driveway and crouched down. She knew someone was just outside the fenced yard. Feet scuffed the road.
She made a decision, ran quickly and silently along the driveway toward the street. Spotted a man bent low, taking cover behind the fence. His eyes looked toward the porch. She fired three times; her bullets downed the man before he had seen her.
She heard the report of another gun behind her. A wind that blew past her cheek. She turned around, saw a burst of fire, watched a man fall to the pavement beside her parked motorcycle.
A voice called out. “Hope I didn’t hit your motorcycle, Rita.”
“Stella, go back inside, its still not safe.”
Rita sensed something else. She looked along the road in front of Stella’s house, a car parked near the streetlight. She ran toward the car, the lights coming on as someone tried to start the vehicle. She rapid fired. Her bullets smashed through the back window, through both left side windows, the car moved slowly, turned off the road and stopped part way on the beach. Rita held her fire.
Stella called out. “Okay Rita?”
Rita walked to the driver’s window; her gun aimed at the man slumped against the steering wheel. Blood on his face and the side of his head. Hair stained dark and matted. She heard Stella walk close.
Rita glanced at her double barrel shotgun, it looked ancient. She grinned a little. “He’s dead, let’s check the others.”
People began to appear out of the darkness, neighbors who lived along the beach road. Rita looked at Stella. “Keep them back from the bodies. I’ll go call the MPs.”
“Okay, Rita. That was some shooting.”
Rita grinned. “You too, Stella. Thanks for getting that guy.”
“I saw the three walk along the road toward your place, I saw they carried guns. Thought you might need help.”
“Where did you get that shotgun?”
“My dear old sainted father left me this shotgun.”
Rita nodded, walked into her house, called the military base, then dialed the general’s number.
“Rita? What just happened?”
“I had some visitors drop by. Unfortunately, they shot at me. There are four dead men near my house at the moment.”
“Four? I’m pulling you out, Rita. What the hell are you in to there?”
“Please don’t do that, sir. I’ll get to the bottom of it.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of. I don’t know, Rita.”
“I’ll be fine, sir. I’ll keep Dixie or Cathy close by.”
“Post a guard around your house tonight. I’ll call Robinson and tell him to step up this damned investigation. Eight dead men in one day? Hell of a vacation destination.”
“Yes sir. I should go now. Looks like people are gathering out front.”
“You stay safe, Rita. I didn’t post you there to get shot.”
“I will, General.”
Chapter Two (Saturday June 19, 2021)
Major Royale had talked to Sergeant Lewis until just after midnight. She gave her statement about the shootings outside her house. The sergeant had already questioned Stella previously and Stella then retired to her bed for the night. One blast of the shotgun was quite enough excitement for one night, she had laughed, though she doubted she’d be able to sleep for a while.
After the sergeant left, Rita stayed up until two in the morning sipping on a drink, wondering what the hell was going on. She guessed the attack had to be linked to the thing at the pier. What else could it be? She was pretty sure that the guys at her house were amateurs, or at least not professionally trained. They were too clumsy. Maybe she’d know more after the bodies were identified.
It was just past one in the afternoon when Rita rode her now windowless motorcycle into Sidney and parked in the Kats Klub parking lot. The major walked around to the front, spotted the three teenagers scrubbing off the words they’d written on the front and sides of the small tavern. She smiled at Alex as he scrubbed with a brush. He didn’t return the smile. She walked inside, sat at the bar. Only herself and the bartender at the bar, two women sitting at a table talking.
The big boned bartender with a wide and easy smile asked, “What’ll it be, Rita? On the house.”
“Just soda and lime, Nicki. I’m on the bike.”
She looked at the handsome face, crew cut hair. “Soda and lime it is, Major.”
“I see the kids are cleaning up outside.”
Nicki nodded. “I wouldn’t mind if they’d draw pictures instead of those words. Flowers maybe.” She smiled and poured the soda into a tall glass. “Yeah, flowers might be nice.”
“They’re teenage boys. They don’t draw flowers. They draw naked women.”
Nicki looked at her, placed the glass on the bar. “Naked women are good too.”
Rita shook her head. “I can’t ask teenaged boys to draw naked women.”
“Maybe I’ll ask them.”