Two for Flinching Read Free

Cynthia
Floyd had married twenty-three years ago in March, a spring
wedding. They had two teenage daughters and an elementary age son,
Melvin Jr. Amazing what you can get off the internet.
    His Facebook page seemed to be regularly
updated, where he ate dinner and the last movie he had seen. His
sole had been excellent and the popcorn had been cold. Pity. He had
an eight handicap and enjoyed hunting and fishing. There was a
picture of him straddling the carcass of a nine point buck,
grinning in his camouflage and hunter’s orange. He was a fairly
large man, a little paunch creeping in, slowly going bald, his
light brown hair combed over the receding hairline. He could
probably get away with it for another year or two. There was a
picture of his home, not really a mansion, but close, and I got a
good sense of the “big payday.” There were no pictures of his wife
and children. Indeed, his relationship status had been left blank,
as if he had overlooked the entry. Yet, he had carefully listed his
high school and college graduation, his old fraternity and his
current social clubs and charity work.
     
    ***
     
    “What are you doing?”
    “Working. You?”
    “Laying on my beach in Tahiti.”
    “Must be nice.”
    “Uh huh. What’s up?”
    “I was wondering if ya’ll could watch the
princess tonight?”
    “Hot date?”
    “Yeah, right. Work.”
    “I wish I could help you, but I’ve got a big
project going and have to work late myself.”
    “I thought things were slow.”
    “Exactly. Which is why I can’t screw it up.
The missus has to take Sonny to a wrestling meet in Birmingham
tonight. What about Erin?”
    “She does have a hot date.”
    “You have any babysitters you can call?”
    “Besides you?”
    He chuckled.
    “Parents these days are hesitant to leave
their teenage daughters alone in the company of a stud such as
myself.”
    “With good reason. You try dad?”
    “He has enough on his plate.”
    “Ain’t that the truth. I’m sure he would do
it.”
    “I am, too. I’ll figure out something.”
    “Oh hell.”

 
     
     
    Chapter Three
     
     
    I picked up Jenks as he left work a few
minutes after five. Banker’s hours. He walked out with a younger
woman with long hair and a short skirt. Details were hard to make
out, but she seemed to be attractive—from a distance. Thin,
self-assured, confident in her heels. They gave each other a
businesslike nod and climbed into their respective vehicles, hers a
late model Honda, his a sporty Lexus. They pulled out of the lot,
Jenks in the lead, and I pulled out of the gas station across the
street.
    There was no reason for them to expect a
tail, but I still stayed three cars behind them. They were
allegedly about to commit an illicit act and therefore might be a
little on the suspicious side. Traffic was as bad as it got in
Chickasaw Falls—which meant running a red light without looking
might or might not be dangerous. Both sets of blinkers came on and
I slowed, letting them turn into a Chinese takeout place. I drove
past and stopped at a drugstore, watching them in the rearview.
Jenks went inside while she remained in her car. They must have
called ahead, because Jenks came out after only a couple of
minutes, triumphantly carrying two plastic bags. The convoy set out
again. I let them get ahead. I had a pretty good idea where they
were going. In a town this small, their options were limited and
even if I was wrong, I was confident it wouldn’t take a half hour
to find them.
    I caught up with them as they pulled into a
hotel on the edge of town, next to the interstate. Jenks went into
the lot while she parked in front of the lobby. I took the second
entrance and circled the hotel. The Lexus was in the front row. I
parked a good distance away that still left me with a good view. I
took my digital camera from the passenger seat. I snapped a few
wide shots to establish the setting, the car parked in a hotel lot.
The Honda left the lobby and she left the car in