He thought he was going to throw up as he staggered to his feet and headed towards the bathroom. Rasmussen splashed water on his face and drank water by cupping his hands and drinking from the faucet.
He went back to his bedroom and looked around for Shirley, his live-in girlfriend. There were two empty shot glasses on the end table, and several empty beer cans, but no Shirley as he looked around.
He stumbled to the living room and saw Skip and his wife Roxie sprawled out on the convertible sofa. They were both sleeping soundly as he looked at Roxie’s big white ass, covered in thin pink panties, while she slept on her tummy.
Rasmussen jiggled her ass and asked, “Hey Roxie, where’s Shirley.”
“How the fuck should I know Rasmussen, it’s not my turn to watch her. Now get your grimy hands off my ass.”
“Why is he holding your ass? Her husband wanted to know as he woke up.
Rasmussen went back to his room, opened the closet door and found that Shirley’s clothes and her big red suitcase were gone.
Jerry and Roxie told him that they had no idea that she was gone, all they remembered was that Roxie brought a bottle of Absinthe out of the truck, when they came back to Rasmussen’s place last night, after drinking lots of beer at the bar over in Laughlin.
“Want to take a ride over to the other side and see if she went back to the bar,” Rasmussen asked Jerry.
“Can’t do it buddy. Remember we told you that we were leaving for El Paso this afternoon, after Roxie picks up her paycheck in Fort Mohave.”
Jerry told him that they would be back in a few weeks, after Roxie straightened out a few things with her sister. Roxie asked why Shirley would take all of her stuff, if she was going across the river to drink.
Rasmussen fired up his Harley and rode three miles to the bar that they hung out at. He checked the parking lot and did not see Shirley’s car. He knew that she didn’t have to be at the strip club until four that afternoon and he tried to think of reasons that Shirley would leave him. He thought that they got along pretty well, and he didn’t think anyone would try to take her away from him.
The day bartender recognized Rasmussen when he walked in. He greeted Rasmussen and put a PBR on the bar before Rasmussen ordered it. “Have you seen my old lady this morning,” Rasmussen asked while the bartender wiped down the bar.
The bartender hadn’t seen Shirley in several days, and he didn’t ask Rasmussen any questions about her whereabouts, because Rasmussen was known to have a short fuse and would knock anyone that got in his way on their ass.
Rasmussen was on his second beer when he heard the reporter on the local television station say that a female had been found dead in a car in the parking lot of the Pioneer Casino.
He rode over to the Pioneer and asked a patrol cop that was controlling the scene if he could talk to someone. He suspected that the woman in the blue car might be his girlfriend. A detective came over and walked him to the blue car, advising him not to touch anything.
“Yeah that’s her, what happened,” he asked the cop.
“Shot in the chest once with what appears to be a small caliber weapon,” he was told.
The detective then asked Rasmussen for his driver’s license and if he owned a gun as he looked at the Bullhead City, Arizona address on Rasmussen’s license. “No, I don’t own a gun, I’m an x-felon,” Rasmussen replied while the detective reached for his handcuffs and asked Rasmussen not to resist. He was taking Rasmussen to the station so he could ask a few questions.
Jerry pulled his pick-up off the road ten miles out of Fort Mohave. Roxie handed him her .32 pistol and watched as he stripped it and handed the parts back to her. She threw the parts into the Colorado river one piece at a time and said, “Bye-bye Shirley.”
The End
Leroy B. Vaughn's short stories fiction and creative nonfiction, essays, articles, and book and movie reviews have been published in print,e-zines, anthologies and podcasts.