The imaginary lightbulb illuminated over my head. As Sonny cut away at the felled tree, I found myself smiling. I knew now how I was going to kill him and how I was going to get away with it. The happiness and energy it filled me with was almost as good as typing The End on a new novel. Only this wasn’t the end. It was just the beginning.
We proceeded deep into the woods, stopping every ten or twenty feet to cut away more branches and twigs or even to cut up an entire downed tree. By the time the first hour of work was history, we’d both worked up a sweat. Also, the chainsaw was out of both gas and oil. Now was my chance.
“You know what you’re doing?” Sonny asked, referring to the chainsaw’s gas and oil needs. He sat his big load down on the log he’d been cutting before the gas gave out, wiping his sweat-soaked brow with a gray handkerchief. “You just uncap each tank on the saw and ahhhh, you know, fill ’er up.”
“Yup,” I said, unscrewing the saw’s gas cap. “I might be a city boy, but I grew up using a chainsaw on my dad’s farm.”
It was a lie I’d made up on the spot. My father…my stepfather, I should say…grew up in the burbs just like me. But what the hell was Sonny about to do? Question me? He was a gangster from Queens who only recently became a country caretaker. What did he really know about farming?
He pulled his vape device from his shirt pocket, took a long toke off it, and then returned it to his pocket.
“You don’t say?” he said, exhaling the blue vapor. “You seem like all city boy to me.”
“Not anymore,” I said while I filled up the gas tank. “Now I’m all about Loon Lake, boss.”
“Jeez,” he went on, his eyes now focusing on the still lake through the breaks in the trees. “I should have brought some water along. It’s already getting hot. Too hot for this early in the season. Must be that global warming shit all the libtards are always going on about. Can’t say I believe in it much myself. But then, what the hell do I know? I’m just a simple caretaker now. A country gentleman who loves Loon Lake.” He exhaled, wiped away more sweat. “You know, I’d love to see this place developed. Maybe a Hilton across the lake, a Sheraton beside it. Or shit, maybe even a Trump golf course. If only I could find a way to entice those companies—you know, present them with a solid business plan—there’d be millions to be made. Tens of millions. That little shithole of a village could become a bustling town, with a Gap, and a Starbucks, a McDonald’s, a Red Robin, and maybe even an amusement park and a waterslide world. We’d have bars galore and high-end restaurants, and people would fly into our new airport just to shop at our retail outlets and our new mall.” He wiped more sweat from his brow. “Fuck, Kingsley, maybe we could even get ourselves the Winter Olympic Games just like Lake Placid did back in 1980. Now, wouldn’t that put this fucking backwater on the map? And it would make us filthy rich.”
“Excuse me?” I said.
He laughed.
“Oh,” he said. “Nothing.”
Jesus, if I didn’t know any better, I would have said that was Sonny’s way of asking me to come work for him. Could be I was all wrong, but it seemed like he was presenting me with his business plan to take over Loon Lake in a roundabout way. He must have seen something in me. Some kind of talent. No wonder he hadn’t confronted me about sleeping with his wife. No wonder he hadn’t taken so much as a swipe at me.
I screwed the gas cap back on and then unscrewed the oil cap. Grabbing hold of the oil can, I began filling the chainsaw’s oil tank.
“You’d have to buy out all the residents, I guess,” I said as I was slowly filling the tank. “They might not want to leave their homes. This is their land, their property. Maybe they don’t want to develop it.”
He laughed like he was thinking of something very sinister, and he was.
“Oh, they’ll move all right,” he said. “You can trust me on that. They’ll move out when they know what I have in store for them.”
“So, you’re buying up Loon Lake, boss?”
He pursed his lips like he’d slipped again. Like he was revealing too much information.
“Say, how you coming with reviving that saw, Gas and Oil Man?”
“Getting there,” I said. Then, pointing at the lake, “Holy crap, look at the size of that bass jumping out of the water?”
Sonny immediately gazed at the lake over his shoulder.
“I don’t see nothin’,” he said.
That’s when I dipped my hands in the oil and rubbed it all over the chain saw grip.
“You must have just missed it,” I said. “Must have been a ten-pound largemouth.”
Wiping the oil from my fingers on my jeans, I capped off the chainsaw oil reserve and placed the cap back on the oil can. Then I stepped away from the saw.
“All yours, boss,” I said.
He put his gloves back on and picked up the saw with his left hand.
“It’s heavier now,” he said. “Feels a little slippery, too, like you got oil on it.”
“That’s probably just the sweat inside your gloves,” I said.
He yanked on the starter. The saw started up with a roar, but it was so slippery it dropped out of his hands and landed on the leaf-strewn trail.
“What the fuck,” he said. “If that blade had been going, I might have lost a leg.”
I reached down, retrieved the saw.
“You mean like this, boss?” I said, pressing my finger on the saw’s trigger.
My eyes zeroing in on his left thigh, I pushed the screaming chainsaw against his thigh as if it was a pine log. I expected resistance, but the sharp blade sank through the flesh like a hot knife through the warmest butter. The blood spattered and shot out of the cut. There was so much blood, I knew I had not only connected with the artery but that I had severed it. I also knew that if I kept going, I would sever his leg completely, which would be a mistake. I had to make this look like Sonny did this by accident, all on his own. His natural, instinctual reaction would be to pull the blade out of his leg and drop the saw.
I yanked the blade out and tossed the saw to the ground. Sonny was just staring at me, his face growing paler by the second, the blood draining from his body through the open wound. How he was still standing was a miracle. His eyes wide open, he was moving his mouth, but not managing to say anything.
Until finally, he said, “What…did…you…do?” And then he collapsed like a sack of rags and bones.
What I did next, I had to do quickly. I had to make it look like Sonny not only managed to cut himself very badly, I had to make it look like I tried to save him…save him in vain, that is. He was on the ground, staring up at the brilliant blue sky. His leg was trembling while the blood spurted out of it. My mind raced. If this had been a real accident, how would I have handled it? I’d try to stop the bleeding. I’d do everything in my power to keep the son of a bitch from bleeding out and dying.
He was so pale his face looked like a white sheet. I could tell he was trying to say something to me. But the life was draining from him so fast, he didn’t have the energy. He knew now that I had it out for him. He was dying with the knowledge that not only had I slept with his wife, I’d jammed that active chainsaw blade into his leg. He knew I’d been planning on killing him almost from the moment I met him, and that I hadn’t hesitated to take my shot.
Still, I had to make it look good.
“Tourniquet,” I whispered to myself. “He needs a tourniquet.”
Bending over, I made a quick check to make sure he wasn’t packing the semi-automatic. When I was sure he was unarmed, I untied his work boot and pulled the shoelace out of the eyelets. I wrapped the lace around his thigh, directly below the wound. I found a small stick, and I tied the ends of the lace to it. Then twisted it as hard as I could. Sonny wasn’t as dead as I thought, let me tell you. He let loose with a scream that echoed across the lake and could be heard all the way down in Albany. Or so I was convinced.
But my efforts didn’t stop t
he bleeding, nor did I want them to. Bleeding was a good thing. The more he hemorrhaged, the better. I bent down and tried to lift him up like I was thinking about carrying him out of the woods. That didn’t work either. I dropped him. When he hit the ground, he let loose with a cry so pathetic and primal, I thought he was going to start crying.
“You…did…this,” he said. “You…did it…on purpose. Because you love…my wife. Jesus, of all days to forget my piece. I’d blow your fucking brains out.” He worked up a smile. It was crazy as hell because he was dying right in front of me, and he was smiling. “Well, you’ll soon…find out…what Cora’s all about. She’s…no better…than me.”
That little comment took me a little bit by surprise. But maybe it was just the crazy banter of a dying man. No matter what, I had to be smart about this. What if he ended up living? I had to make it look like whatever happened out here in the woods of Loon Lake was just an accident, plain and simple. In the end, if he did live, it would be my word against his. An ex-con against a mobster/lawyer.
“Sonny…boss man,” I said. “I’m surprised at you. Telling me I did this on purpose. Nothing could be further from the truth. It was an accident. I’m trying to save you now, aren’t I?”
I gave the tourniquet another twist. He screamed again.
I was torturing him, and you know what? It felt good.
“I know…you were…fucking Cora in the cabin. Everybody wants to fuck Cora.”
“Everybody, huh?” I said, hoping he’d take final breath sooner than later. “That’s terrible, boss. How can you stand it?”
He smiled again, the red-black arterial blood pouring out of his leg like Niagara Falls.
“Looks like it won’t be bothering me for much longer, asshole. If only you played your cards right…I could have…I could have…cut you in…cut you in on the action.”
He was having real trouble talking now. Real trouble breathing. He was going in and out of consciousness, his entire body whiter than the ghost he was about to become “What action you talking about, boss?” I said. But I knew what he was going on about. My gut instincts had been right on. He wanted me to be a part of his team of gangsters.
“Loon Lake,” he said. “It’s ours.”
I knew he didn’t have long. Still, just in case he lived, I had to continue to make it look like I wanted to save his life. I squeezed the tourniquet again and again he screamed. Only this time, his voice was very weak. I was no doctor, but as a soldier, I was certain he was only minutes or even seconds from dying. Here’s what else I knew as a soldier: the average male only had about six quarts of blood in him, and four of them had to be soaking the ground right now. Judging by the blood pool that was growing wider and wider with each passing second, I was convinced that his life was over. I wasn’t sure why, but I didn’t want to be around him when he exhaled that final breath.
“What do you mean it’s yours?”
“The lake…the family…we’re taking over the lake.” He was telling me what I already knew. It was time for me to get the hell away from him, make it look like I was going for help. Because no way was I going to carry him the hell out of there.
“You keep talking, Sonny,” I said, taking hold of his hand, placing it on the tourniquet. “And keep twisting this. I’m going for help.”
“Be quick…” he said, his eyes now shut, his speech slurred. “I’m…dying.”
I started back in the direction of the trailhead.
“Kingsley,” he said, renewed energy in his voice.
I turned.
“Admit it. You were fucking her, weren’t you?” He breathed in and out. “Last night in the cabin…I know the sound of her screams. I can smell my wife’s pussy anywhere.”
“Yeah, boss,” I said. “I fucked her good.”
What good would it do to lie at that point? Turning, I started down the path.
16
I was never one for acting. One of my books had been optioned a few years back, and the B-level actor who financed it asked me if I wanted a bit part in the movie. That is, should it be lucky enough to actually get produced. I issued him a definitive no. Because no way was I about to make a fool of myself going out there on the big screen. But this situation was different. This time, I had to really make it look like I was one hell of an actor. The situation was the same for Cora.
I sprinted my way over the path, branches and twigs slapping me in the face, stinging it, making my eyes tear up. It was important to convince myself that Sonny had suffered a great accident. That I had nothing to do with it. That I wasn’t the guy who purposely buried that chainsaw in his thigh, severing his femoral artery. It seemed to take forever to cover all that ground. There must have been a half mile or more separating Sonny and the trailhead at the beach.
But when I finally broke through, I shouted, “Cora! Cora! Come quick!”
She was nowhere to be found. I jogged over the sandy beach toward the tavern. I made my way around the building, up the front porch steps, and to the door. It was open. Barging inside, I shouted for Cora again. She came out of the office behind the counter.
“It’s okay, Kingsley,” she said. “You don’t have to shout. There’s nobody else here.”
I thought about the parking lot. No other vehicles other than my Jeep and the pickup truck were parked there. No sheriff’s prowler, no motorcycles, no strange cars or vans belonging to any guests. Of course, that’s when it dawned on me. Maybe Loon Lake was never getting any visitors or guests. Maybe the place was just a front for the Torchi crime family.
“It’s done,” I said, looking her in the eyes.
She just stared at me for a minute. It wasn’t a good stare. There was no enthusiasm in it. No hopefulness. No sign of relief. No love.
“Did you hear me, Cora?” I said. “It’s done. He’s cut bad.”
She shook her head, as though to break herself out of her spell. Her eyes teared up.
“Oh my God,” she said, “call an ambulance now!”
We called 911. It didn’t take the EMT team very long to pull into the parking lot. And get this: the EMT team consisted, in part, of Bunny and the sheriff. Their sudden presence took me a bit by surprise when they both arrived in what I guessed was Loon Lake’s only EMS van. But the sheriff and Bunny weren’t alone. A young woman accompanied them.
Her name was Kate, and she was training with the team. Or so Sheriff Woods informed us.
The sheriff wasn’t wearing the typical blue overall-like uniform most EMTs wore. Instead, he was wearing his usual uniform of jeans, boots, and black-and-red-checked shirt. He was also wearing his old cowboy hat, and his semi-automatic was strapped to his hip.
“What happened?” he asked me, his face straight, his demeanor calm and cool.
I told him all about Sonny’s accident. How he’d cut himself bad with the chainsaw.
“Holy fuck,” Bunny said, her face lit up like a lantern. “If he hit the femoral, he’s as good as dead already.”
That’s when Cora started weeping. The tears were streaming down her face. If she was acting, and I could only pray that she was, she was doing one hell of a job of it.
“We don’t know that, Bun,” the sheriff said. “Blood can coagulate. Wounds can scab and heal themselves given the right conditions.”
“That’s right, Sheriff,” Kate said while brushing back her shoulder-length sandy blonde hair. “The body does everything it can to heal itself, even when badly cut.”
I felt ice water speed through my veins. What if Sonny were still alive? What then? Better to not think about that right now. Because no way the Sonny I left out there on the trail was still going to be alive when we got to him. If it were just Bunny and the sheriff heading out to tend to him and he were alive, I wasn’t sure either person would have had an issue with us finishing the job off. Sonny and his entire family of mobsters were the enemies of Loon Lake after all. The sheriff wanted Sonny dead as much as Cora and I did. But w
ith this girl, Kate, in tow, I knew we’d have no choice but to play things straight, no matter what we found along the trail…dead or alive.
“Follow me,” I said, leading everyone to the beachside trailhead.
Kate grabbed hold of the big plastic portable medical kit. The other two followed on her tail while Cora decided to stay back at the tavern.
“I can’t bear to see him like this,” she said.
I told her I understood and that we’d do everything in our power to see that her husband survived the ordeal. Like I said, we were acting, playing our separate roles. If all went well, at the end of this movie would be one very dead Sonny Torchi.
“How far in is he?” Kate asked as we entered the dark forest.
“About a half mile,” I said. “Give or take. We need to take it double-time.”
She was young and enthusiastic. She was pretty, too. A part of me was really attracted to her. I guess you could say I even felt the urge to kiss her, right off the bat. But that wasn’t a good sign, considering I might have just committed murder, or, at the very least, attempted murder on behalf of my love for Cora. Love and lust. How’s that old Doors song go again? People are strange?
“I love your take-charge attitude, Mr. Kingsley,” she said, that medical box gripped in her hand. “You’re obviously worried.”
But I wasn’t worried. I was, instead, imagining what it would be like to be with her. What she would feel like with me inside her. Turning, I headed into the woods.
I didn’t want to appear panicked, but I didn’t want to make myself look like I was taking Sonny’s imminent demise with a grain of sea salt either. That said, I took the lead as we negotiated the narrow trail. Sonny and I had made serious progress on them during the couple hours we’d spent clearing them, so the going wasn’t all that hard. The newly sawed away branches and felled birch and pine trees that had once blocked the path were now cut away, making the hiking a breeze. Maybe too much of a breeze.
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