Resurrection 21Posted: November 8, 2016
This is a chapter of the book I am writing for NaNoWriMo. If you want to read it from the start, click here for the chapter index.
Tab directed the Buick down Front Street toward the church and parsonage. He had already gotten the DMV records so he knew he was looking for a white and tan, 2005, Jeep Grand Cherokee, plate EVY 273. As he passed the church, he could see it parked in the lot. He noted the lot was easy to access, no fence or gate.
He also noted it was in full view of both the parsonage and the church. He wouldn’t be able to do it during the day, he’d have to come back when everyone was asleep.
Most murders are easy for the police to solve. The heated alcohol argument ending in a blood-slick knife. Almost everyone who murdered someone made the same mistake – they only planned how to get away with it after the killing had occurred. The killing was the goal, not getting away with the murder.
Tab was much more concerned with what happens after. He wanted to make sure he could never get caught, even if they suspected him. His standard was no mistakes and no loose ends.
Yes, he’d definitely have to come back in the early morning hours.
He liked his jobs to have routine. Routines made them predictable and easy to target when they are alone or distracted. The baby made it a little tougher. Between 3am and 4am almost everyone is asleep. Babies can be awake any time along with their parents. Unpredictable.
He drove past the church and down Front Street. Then he drove around the town a bit to familiarize himself once again with possible escape routes. Satisfied with his reconnaissance, he directed the Buick toward the gas station on the edge of town. His tank showed 3/4 and he always kept it topped off. Another one of his standards, you can’t elude the police while stopping for gas.
He pulled into the gas station and parked next to a pump. As he did a red Mustang pulled in as well, at the pump opposite.
Tab got out and started into the convenience store to pay. This was one of his calculated risks: He could use one of his stolen credit cards to pay at the pump, but that left a paper trail. If the card was found on him or if they could tie it to him in any way, the cops would be able to pinpoint exactly where he was at a particular date and time.
And those records would be available for years to come.
Going in and paying cash meant he might end up on security footage, but most convenience stores in low crime areas either don’t have a camera or the footage gets recorded over every 24 hours or so. Never more than a week.
So he paid cash when he was working.
Polly was rifling through her large purse looking for the credit card she had carelessly tossed in their after she got her coffee this morning when the big man walked in front of her car. She appraised him as he moved. Tall, muscled, dressed in a dark grey blazer and dark jeans. She thought the French cuffs popping out from the blazer sleeves were a nice touch. She judged him to be late 30s, maybe early 40s.
She immediately decided this was a man who was in charge. Distinguished. Discounting the “pay at the pump” option, she exited the Mustang, put on her most flirtatious smile and walked herself toward the store. She was happy she had chosen to wear heels and her pencil skirt today. Men always stared when she did.
Polly made her entrance. Tab was waiting for the register, a small old man in front of him paying for his coffee and cigarettes. The contrast between the size of Tab against the frail figure in front of him made Tab’s size all that more impressive.
Both the clerk and the old man turned and looked at her when she entered the store. Tab hadn’t even looked her direction, she needed to fix that.
“Hey, Bobby! How’s your morning so far?” asked Polly to the clerk in her best flirtatious voice.
“Almost lunch time,” Bobby replied.
Polly took her place in line behind Tab, standing slightly to the left, to continue to engage Bobby.
“Big plans for the weekend?” she asked.
“That’ll be $7.25,” said Bobby to the old man. Turning his head up again to Polly, “Probably go muddin’ or maybe just fish. Haven’t decided.”
Still Tab did not turn or acknowledge her presence. Polly reached up and tapped him on the shoulder.
When he turned, she asked “‘scuse me, but are you new in town? I don’t think we’ve met. My name is Polly, I work for the paper.”
Tab cringed inside at his luck and realized his mistake. His habit of keeping his tank topped off made him stop in Silerville rather than doing the smart thing and topping off in Corbin. Now a local was talking to him.
“John,” said Tab, shaking her hand once then turning back to the register. The old man turned and slowly walked toward the door.
“What can I do ya for?” Bobby asked as Tab stepped forward.
“Give me $10 on 4,” he said, handing Bobby a $10 from his money clip. “It won’t take that much, but just keep the change.”
Tab didn’t wait for Bobby to even complete the transaction. He turned and headed for the door.
“Nice meeting you!” chirped Polly after him.
Tab didn’t respond. The door closed behind him.
“He’s cute!” Polly said to Bobby, her eyes wide.
“I guess so.” Bobby replied.
“Give me $10 on three.” Poly threw the $10 at him. She shuffled to the door in her tight skirt, her heels clicking on the tile. Bobby enjoyed the show.
“John” was pumping his gas, looking intently at the ascending numbers, as she approached her Mustang. She unhooked the handle, placed it in her fuel nozzle and chose the grade.
“Beautiful day,” she observed loudly, obviously directed at “John.”
Tab didn’t turn or acknowledge her in any way. He just stared at the pump.
“Don’t you just love spring?” she again voiced in his direction.
Fuck, this chick is relentless.
“Yeah,” said Tab, barely moving his lips. Still staring at the pump.
Tab had already realized this was the piece of ass he had seen at The Wayfair. He started thinking through his options. Tab knew he stuck out, he had a presence people might remember. Polly might remember. If the police asked about “any strangers around town,” Bobby wouldn’t remember him. Polly would.
And, fuck, she works for the paper?
His mind was agile and able to think through possible scenarios quickly. Weighing his options, he decided on a course of action.
“I’m sorry,” his deep baritone voice made Polly tingle. “I was thinking about something. I didn’t mean to be rude. Yes, it is beautiful today. You’re not so bad yourself.”
Polly feigned a shyness. She smiled, dropping her head and turning her right heel out, pivoting on the toe.
“Thank you.” she said.
At $8.42, Tab’s pump kicked off. Tab replaced the nozzle and turned again to Polly.
“John Marcus,” Tab said, holding out his hand. Polly’s pump kicked off.
Shaking his hand, “Polly Henderson.”
“This is a bit forward of me,” Tab continued politely. Tab can look menacing when he wanted to, but he could also be charming as well. “I’m in sales and I’m stuck in Corbin for a day or two. I hate eating alone, I don’t suppose you’d meet me for dinner tonight? Dinner with an attractive woman on a Friday night would make my week.”
“I’m flattered,” replied Polly, wondering what this hulk of a man might be like in bed. “Yes, that sounds like fun. Where would you like to meet?”
“I’m not from around here so you tell me.”
“Well, Dino’s is nice. They have a full bar, too.” Corbin had been “wet” for only a few years. “It’s the Italian place right by the movie theater on 25. You can’t miss it.”
“7 pm sound good?” asked Tab, flashing a fake smile.
“Perfect.” Taking a piece of paper from her purse, she wrote out her number. “If anything changes, just send me a text or call me.”
“I don’t think anything will change. See you tonight.” Tab opened the door and climbed into the Buick. He smiled and gave Polly a little wave as he pulled out.
“It’s a risk,” he thought to himself, contemplating how he would tie things up with her. “But getting laid tonight wouldn’t be so bad.”