Corpse Suzette

the
half-finished cosmo and sighed. “I’m losin’ my touch with the dames, Van. Just
ain’t as smooth as I used to be.”
    Savannah thought back over
the years, remembering a younger Dirk with a lot more hair, a bit less tummy,
bigger biceps. A guy with a big heart, but hardly any manners, precious little
sensitivity, and hardly a clue about how to deal with the fairer sex... or the
rougher one, for that matter. He was just a bear with a Buick, a Smith and
Wesson, and a house trailer. That was Dirk Coulter, then and now
    She hugged his arm—which
still had pretty nice biceps— leaned over, and kissed his cheek. “Ah,” she
said, “don’t worry, big guy. You’re ever’ bit as smooth as you ever were.”
    “Really?”
    “Absolutely.”
     
    As they left Coconut Joe’s
and walked out front to catch a taxi, Dirk glanced at his watch. “Oh, shit,” he
said.
    “What now?” she asked,
expecting the worst. And with Dirk, “the worst” could be pretty bad.
    “It’s after eleven. We
missed the last ferry home.”
    “No way!” She looked at her
watch. Unfortunately, he was right.
    “We’re going to have to
stay here tonight.” He groaned. “And the captain’s gonna be madder than hell
with me when he finds out he had to pay for a hotel room.”
    “Two hotel rooms.”
    “One hotel room with two
beds.”
    “Two hotel rooms. Don’t
argue with me, boy. Granny Reid raised me to be a lady.”
    “Does she know you pee
behind bushes on a stakeout?”
    “Ouch, that hurt!”
    “I meant for it to.”
     
    “One room with two
beds—that’s all I’ve got. Take it or leave it,” said the heavily tattooed,
multipierced clerk behind the desk at the island’s only motel with a “vacancy”
sign.
    They were sure. The taxi
had driven them from one end of Santa Tesla to the other looking.
    “Come on, Savannah,” Dirk
said, tapping his fingers on the countertop. “What other options do we have?
It’s after midnight. Everything else is closed. And without a car, it’s not
like we can even sleep on the beach.”
    “All right, all right,” she
said. “But if my Gran ever finds out about this, or any of the guys at the
station, you’re deader than a hamburger patty. I mean it.”
    The guy behind the counter
chewed on his toothpick thoughtfully and gave Dirk a “You ain’t gonna get any,
fellow” look. “Gimme the key,” Dirk told him.
    “Do you need help with your
luggage, sir?” the clerk asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
    “Do you see any suitcases
here, smart mouth? Do you?”
    The guy grinned and
shrugged. “Just asking.”
    “This ain’t what it looks
like.” Dirk barked as he snatched up the key.
    The clerk snickered. “I
never thought it was.”
     
    “Hand me your T-shirt, boy,
and make it snappy,” Savannah called from the bathroom.
    “Why?”
    “Because I need something
to sleep in and needless to say, I didn’t pack any pajamas.”
    “So sleep in the buff.”
    “I do not sleep
naked.”
    “Oh, hell, Van. I won’t
look. Just come to bed.”
    “It’s not a modesty issue,
you nitwit. It’s an earthquake thing.”
    “An earthquake thing?”
    “Yeah, I haven’t slept nude
since the Northridge quake, and I ain’t gonna start tonight, so peel off that
T-shirt and hand it here.”
    She heard a big sigh, then
some trudging steps. Opening the door a crack, she reached her arm out. He
shoved the shirt into her hand.
    “There. Happy?”
    “Moderately.”
    She slipped the shirt on
and looked around the tiny bathroom, at her panties, bra, and socks drying on
the shower rod next to his socks and boxers. She had done the laundry in the
sink... his, too, which she felt pretty darned virtuous about.
    She spit the minty gum she
had been chewing in lieu of a tooth-brushing into the toilet. At the moment,
she felt a bit like a she-bear, and it was his fault for not getting her
to the ferry on time.
    Okay, she admitted, it
might be her own fault, too. She had a watch and had also gotten wrapped up in
the case and forgotten. Oh well, it couldn’t be helped now.
    She turned out the light
and stuck her head out of the door. “You decent?”
    “I’m in bed and covered up,
if that’s what you mean.”
    “Yeah, well, stay that way.
I don’t want to wake up in the middle of the night and see you traipsing around
in the altogether or whatever.”
    “If I have to go to the
bathroom to take a leak, and I frequently do at night, I just might be
traipsing, as you call it, so