Lonely Weekend
Author: Samason Hill

Chapter 2
Babes and Tubland



The perfectly marbled 32 oz. New York strip steaks hit the grill and made that sound that, if you’re lucky you may hear once a season.


When the coal is just right, the grate is just the right height, the breeze is blowing just right so that you can’t hear any neighbor cutting his grass, the barometric pressure is correct and the moon is in the seventh house - whatever - but it’s just right.


Will Colby took a pull of his ice cold Genesee Cream Ale and admired his grill and the two steaks he had just put on for him and his wife and burgers for his kids.  Then he admired the deck and Jacuzzi that he finally finished after two years of false starts. Then his children as Willy, six but already protective of his baby sister pushed Anne, three on the swing set, all the while admonishing her to “hold on tight”.


Lastly, Will settled his admiring gaze upon his wife Michele as she busied herself with the Cole slaw and potato salad.  More specifically, on her fine rear-end and the tanned legs that went all the way up to it.  At thirty-two, with seven years of marriage and two kids under her belt she could still awake in him not only the of love and caring that he felt in his heart, but also the lust that he felt for her in every fiber of his body.


Maybe after the kids are in bed, they could bring a bottle of wine back out here and break in the whirlpool…


The doorbell interrupted his scheming and he wondered who could be ringing so doggedly on such a fine day.  As the ringing became louder and the pounding in his head more intense, Will was dragged from the deck that he never finished to stinking living room of the ratty apartment he currently considered home.  His exact location being the between the couch and coffee table, he opened his eyes, or at least one of them and tried to determine the direction of the ringing.  Realizing that the phone wasn’t going to stop unless got up and answered it, he attempted to push himself up.  His right hand found purchase, but his left hand made contact with an empty (one of three) vodka bottle and as he went back down, he cracked his head on the edge of the table.


Cursing, he made it to his knees and lurched for the phone under a foot stool.




“Billy, it’s Rubik, we’ve got another one.”


“Don’t call me Billy, Cube.”


“OK - Will, we’ve got another one.”


“What day is it?”




“You’ll have to send someone - I can’t drive yet.”


“I’ll pick you up myself in ten; I wouldn’t make a crook share a car with you in the condition you’re probably in, let alone another cop.”


“As long as you can still them apart”, Will hit the disconnect button, threw the phone on the table and headed for the bathroom.


William Raymond Colby was born and spent his formative years in a wide spot in the road named Poufette Louisiana where highway 706 meets highway 703 and that is about all that ever happened.  The Tabasco plant on Avery Island and the cottage industry that had grown up around it over the years kept the unemployment and crime rates low.  The demise of the Soviet Union and the ensuing popularity of all things American had interestingly brought a certain worldly affluence to the area, worldly affluence of course in Louisiana terms meant that most of the homes now had indoor plumbing.


Keeping his butt out of trouble and his grades up, Will scored a scholarship to Louisiana State where he majored in pre med and sailed on to Harvard Medical School majoring in Forensic Sciences.


Again he sailed through his courses at Harvard and with his boyish good looks, Cajun dialect and wouldn’t you know it, a cute country name like Billy Ray, most of the co-eds he met in Boston.


Then he met Michele.  From an upper-crust Bostonian family, she wasn’t impressed with his countrified come-ons or his goofy name and told him so in so many words.  After a short cat and mouse, an even shorter courtship and much to the disdain of Michele’s family, they became Dr. and Mrs. William R. Colby and Will took a position as an assistant M.E. for Erie County, N.Y.


Will soon became bored with the lab work and after many (and heated) discussions with Michele, he applied for the New York State Police Academy and after graduation, took a lateral promotion, traded in his lab coat for a detective shield and became the newest member of the City of Buffalo Homicide Squad.


Dropping the Dr. title (except when reserving a table at a fancy restaurant) - he still took some heat in the beginning from the guys the had come up through the ranks the “old fashioned way” meaning their fathers and uncles sat on the promotion boards, but after time, with a few collars based on solid police work behind him and old Rubik showing him the ropes and watching his back, the crew started treating like just another cop.


Life would have been perfect - like those steaks, but then it never is, is it?


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