Category Archives: Sandra Seamans

The Blind Side by Sandra Seamans


By Sandra Seamans

It was half past closing time when Sheriff Rachael Gates walked into the Pig in a Poke Bar and Grill.

“Hey, Eddie, you’re open late tonight.” she said. “Waiting on Booney?”

“Why would I be expecting Booney to show up here?”

“Because he was making a run for you tonight, before he got sidetracked by the fire,” said Rachael.

“I ain’t catching your drift, Sheriff,” said Eddie as he set a cup of coffee on the bar for Rachael.

Rachael grinned. Playing ignorant was the first step in tap dancing around the law in these parts, especially if the man being questioned considered the law a dumb broad. How fast Eddie danced would depend on how much he figured she knew about his business.

Adding cream and sugar to her coffee she nodded toward the police scanner setting next to the cash register. “You been listening to the calls tonight?”

“Yeah, heard there was a hell of a fire out on Stumble Creek Road tonight. Booney’s Garage, wasn’t it? How come you ain’t out there doing traffic control?”

“I was, but I had some business here in town that needed taking care of. Besides, with the fire almost out, most of the gee-gawkers had toddled on home.”

“What kinda business are you sticking your nose into this time of night? Everybody’s either tucked up in bed or out at the fire.”

“Everyone but you, Eddie. I’ve been wondering what dirty tricks you’ve got hidden up your sleeve to keep your shine business running, now that Booney’s dead.”

“Booney’s dead?”

“Don’t look so surprised on my account. Wasn’t that the plan when you set the fire tonight?”

“You’re talking in riddles, girl.”

“No riddles, I was just stumped for a reason why you weren’t out at the fire. I found that kind of odd, considering you’re the fire chief.”

“I was holding down the toilet with a case of the shits, if you gotta know. Is that a crime now?”

“No, but you and Booney running moonshine into Piedmont County every time there was a police cruiser or ambulance brought into Booney’s garage for maintenance…that’s a crime.”

“If Booney was running shine, that was his business, not mine.”

“You’d just love for me to think that, wouldn’t you?”

“Lady, you’ve got a bee buzzing around in your bonnet and it’s done stung your brain stupid.”

“You know, I let you and Booney have your little side business cause I didn’t figure it was hurting anybody. Folks like a little jolt of white lightning now again and I’ve got no problem with that. What I do have a problem with, is a fire truck full of shine showing up at a fire and a whole lotta folks getting hurt.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The load of shine Booney was hauling tonight.”

“You’re thinking crazy, lady.”

“Funny thing about tonight. I thought you were getting greedy, trying to slip that much shine under my nose, so I followed Booney. He was just over the county line when the fire call came over the radio. Booney made a U-turn and headed for the fire. And if I were Booney, I’d have probably done the same thing seeing as how you kept repeating that it was Booney’s Garage burning a hole in the dark when you put out the call.”

“You’ve just proved the truck couldn’t have been loaded with shine. Nobody, with half a brain, would charge into a fire carrying shine. Even Booney wasn’t that dumb.”

“That’s what I thought, until the spray from the hose hit the flames. I couldn’t do anything but watch when the fire snaked back along the hose. Damn near barbequed half the folks out there when the truck exploded. Booney didn’t have a chance. He was so focused on saving his garage, he forgot what he was hauling. You were counting on that.”

“The fire company’s been filling up their trucks with water from Stumble Creek for years. Booney’s place has the best access to the creek, so I left the truck there for Booney to fill. Ain’t no call to blame me if he filled it with something other than water.”

Rachael tapped her fingers on the bar. Eddie was tap dancing like Fred Astaire on speed. “So how are you planning on staying in the shine business with Booney gone?”

“I told you, I ain’t in the shine business, but I might rebuild the garage and hire on a mechanic. I bought the place from Booney’s wife, Sally, earlier tonight. Paid her cash up front so she couldn’t change her mind before we saw the lawyers.”

“His wife sold you the garage? For cash?”

“Not the business, the property. The land was in her name, she inherited the place from her grandpa.”

“I don’t suppose you signed any papers to that effect?”

“We’re friends. We didn’t need any paperwork to seal the deal. Besides, Sally needed the money, she was planning on leaving Booney. I was just helping her out.”

“Out of the goodness of your heart, or were you looking for a little something more?”

“I’m a married man. I don’t go sniffing around another man’s piece of ass.”

Rachael smiled. “Speaking of your wife, she and Sally are friends, aren’t they?”

“They’ve been best friends since their mama’s pissed them into the world.” Eddie’s face twisted with anger as he added money plus dames and realized he’d been screwed, and not in a pleasant way. “That Bitch.”

“Sally played you perfectly. Booney’s dead and your fingerprints are all over his murder. There’s absolutely nothing but your word to point the law in her direction. And I pretty much doubt your wife will be backing up your sitting-on-the-john alibi,” said Rachael as she cuffed Eddie. “You could have saved yourself a lot of grief if you’d, just once, thought of a woman as more than a resting place for your dick.”

Perfection by Sandra Seamans

Pip knelt down in the darkness, watching for the woman who lived on the other side of the white picket fence. The woman’s name was Sylvia and she was the embodiment of perfection.

How Pip envied her. The perfectly colored skin, silky blonde hair that swished around her waist when she moved and not a pound out of place on her perfectly toned body. Pip felt like a fat frump whenever she saw Sylvia, hating the roundness of her own face and body, the kink of her black hair. Sylvia was everything Pip wanted to be and could never be.

Pip watched Sylvia slip out of the house, night after warm, summery, night. She loved how the moonlight played across the naked curves of Sylvia’s body. How that mass of blond hair shimmered around her body, as if to embrace the purity of Sylvia as she took her midnight swim. Pip glanced at her watch, Sylvia was late tonight.

Pip had heard the screaming, the sound of smashing china, the thud. Sylvia’s husband must have come home. The husband who was on more intimate terms with his frequent flier miles than his wife. He spent his working life checking out exotic locations for his travel agency, returning home to Sylvia after weeks in the perfumed sunshine of far away islands. Places he never took Sylvia. But she only cried when he came home.

Pip watched as Sylvia slipped out of the house, gliding silently across the patio toward the edge of the pool. She watched as Sylvia stripped the designer clothes from her body, her naked perfection drenched in moonlight. Pip sighed at the sight of such celestial beauty. Her sigh turned to screams, as Sylvia put a gun to her head and splattered her brains across the moonlit pool.

A Quibbling Matter by Sandra Seamans

“Don’t you think you might be over planning this job, Charlie?” said Stella.

“That’s got to be the stupidest question that’s ever crossed your lips, woman, and I’ve heard a lot of them over the years. How many times do I have to explain this to you? The more you go over a plan, the less likely something’s gonna go wrong. Maybe if I talked slower it might sink into that pea brain of yours easier.”

“But, Charlie, there’s no way you can be prepared for everything. What if you were to plow into the back of a school bus on the way to the bank? And maybe one of the kids climbs into our car and finds the guns in the back seat? That kid could shoot someone and the cops would blame us. Or what if we followed your plan exactly, got the money, and some off duty cop comes walking in the door just as we’re running out. What do think he’s gonna do? Hold the door open for us?”

“You’re the naggingist wife I know. You’re always thinking about what could go wrong. You gotta think positive. We’ve been robbing banks all our married life. We’ve only been caught twice out of three tries. The odds are in our favor for this job.”

“One out of three and the odds are in our favor? Thank God you’re not a gambling man. You’ve got a good plan this time, Charlie, but I still think you need to leave some room for the possibility that something could go wrong. If you don’t look past the plan, you won’t be able to think on your feet.”

“My feet don’t need to do any thinking. That’s what my brains are for. Trust me,” said Charlie. “Nothing can go wrong.”

Charging into the bank wielding their shotguns, they were brought up short by a pair of bank robbers already at work. Charlie and Stella grabbed a piece of the floor when the cops came SWAT teaming into the bank behind them.

“Yep,” said Stella as the cops cuffed her. “That was one hell of a fool-proof plan, good thing the odds were in our favor.”

“Nag, nag, nag. Don’t you ever get tired of being right, woman?”

Cold Comfort by Sandra Seamans

“Do it, or I’ll shoot you myself,” said Chester.

Her ex-husband’s words were still ringing in Penny’s ears, along with the deafening explosion of the gun. She slipped down on the couch, curling her body into a ball. She shivered under the friendly caress of her grandmother’s afghan, comforted by the familiar warmth as she pulled it up around her chin. She felt so cold. Numb.

Damn, Chester, and his stupid drunken games. Forcing her to play Russian Roulette with a loaded gun. Making her press the muzzle of the gun to her temple, pointing his own revolver at her until she pulled the trigger. Click. His obscene laughter filling her tiny apartment as urine stained her jeans, and fouled the air.

“Chicken shit,” he’d laughed. “There’s only one bullet in the cylinder. The odds are in your favor. But, hey, even if it does go off, I don’t get charged with your murder, cause you pulled the trigger. That restraining order of yours ain’t working so well now, is it?”

The blast from the gun had made her jump. Lying on the couch, she watched a trickle of blood slowly drift across the linoleum. Penny knew she should call the police, tell them what happened. But Chester wasn’t quite dead yet.