by Joe Conlan
After a few minutes of careful deliberation, he decided there was no way either Annie or the agent would recognize him after the changes he made to his appearance. Besides dying his hair, he grew a full beard and moustache which he also dyed black. He placed the cowboy hat he was carrying on his head and entered the Starbucks, secure he could choose a seat close enough to eavesdrop.
His startled reaction to what he eventually overheard nearly blew his cover. Somehow, they had tied him to the killings in Europe. Evidently, an article had been written in the Miami Herald that evening linking Hannah’s murder to the Italian whore he killed back when he was working for King Cruise Line. Shem had been outside Annie’s apartment all day and had neglected to either listen to the news or purchase a paper. Falcone was furious that an agent on his team was leaking information.
After taking a few minutes to digest what he just learned, Shem’s first thought was that he underestimated his arch nemesis in a major way. Then, as quickly as he gave credit to the agent, he took it all back. He refused to believe Falcone or anyone at the FBI was responsible for their breakthrough. Under normal circumstances, it wasn’t his practice to admit to stupidity or sloppiness. This time, the proof he was guilty of both character flaws, if only temporarily, was very much stacked against him. According to the agent’s description of the newspaper article, the authorities were able to tie the murder in Italy to that of the Tucker slut look-alike because of evidence he left at the scene. In Europe, he was practicing and perfecting his art, so he allowed himself the mistake of leaving DNA trace evidence behind. He had to concede however, he rushed into the murder of the Jew whore. There was absolutely no excuse for carelessness at her murder scene. It was obvious he didn’t take the time to think things through sufficiently. Although he did it intentionally, he allowed the authorities to trace him back to Ft. Lauderdale. These were errors a reckless, overconfident novice would commit. In his mind, there was only one explanation. His overwhelming desire to make Annie his possession was blurring his ability to reason. He was acting like a school boy in lust. The more he thought about the issue, the clearer it became he had been exercising poor judgment since the day he decided to find an apartment in Ft. Lauderdale.
His lack of good decision-making was a problem, but he wasn’t about to give up on Annie. His only other choice was to find a way to control his emotions and be patient. This was imperative if he was going to execute his masterpiece plan before he made her his own. That wasn’t going to be easy when it seemed the agent insisted on carrying on with his relationship with her. An unsettled feeling continued to nag at Shem’s sense of well-being. There was only one way he knew to recapture that high, though having arrived well into their conversation, he wasn’t aware of a significant decision Daniel had made and already disclosed to Annie.
Daniel was waiting for Annie when she walked into the Starbucks dressed in a tight pair of Levi jeans and a hot pink tank top. He had to make a concerted effort to avoid looking her up and down. She was truly a stunning woman. He had been stewing about this meeting the entire day. It had been a significant and almost obsessive part of his thoughts since he had made up his mind. He certainly didn’t need the drama of having two women in his life. A choice had to be made. The difficulty in finally arriving at a resolution was something he didn’t expect. He made important decisions everyday sometimes involving life and death issues. This personal problem caused him more time, anguish, heartache and stress than any he had ever faced at the office. His future and happiness and that of the four people who meant the most to him in the world were on the line. When he finally made his decision, he knew he had made the right one. A peace and serenity immediately replaced the turmoil that had been relentlessly haunting him.
They each ordered a cup of black coffee then took a seat at a table in the back corner. Daniel would have preferred a little more privacy, but he wanted to meet in a public place, on neutral ground. After their initial greetings, Annie was the first to speak.
“I’ve been getting the feeling this isn’t just a friendly get together. I haven’t heard from you in a while. Every time I call for updates about Hannah, I’m rerouted to Leland.”
“I’m not gonna beat around the bush, Annie. You know how much you mean to me. I’m sure you know you’ll always have a special place in my heart. My number one concern right now is to save my marriage. So...our relationship has to end. I can’t see you anymore.”
Annie wasn’t totally surprised by Daniel’s revelation. Still, when he spoke the words, her heart sank into her stomach. She tried to not make it obvious through her expression. At that point, it didn’t matter much since Daniel continued to ramble, looking down at his hands folded as if he was in prayer asking the Lord for forgiveness.
“I still have feelings for you. I’m not even sure what’s going on. You have a way of confusing me. When you had me you didn’t want me. Now that I’m not available, you have to have me. What I do know is if we keep hanging out, it’s gonna happen again. I’ll always love you. That’s just the honest truth. You were my first true love. That being the case, I think it’s obvious it’s best for everyone if we stop seeing each other. It goes without saying it would be unfair to my wife to continue our relationship after what happened. It wouldn’t be fair to you or me, either.”
Annie listened quietly as Daniel said his piece. She took a moment to compose herself before she responded. She had done a lot of soul searching herself over the past few days. Several nights, she involved her mother discussing her romantic woes on the telephone until the wee hours of the morning. It wasn’t unusual for Annie to use Cassie as her psychoanalyst. The idea that Annie had a habit of going after unavailable men wasn’t a new concept. Ultimately, they both agreed it was a self-esteem issue. Annie simply felt undeserving. She could thank Uncle Byron in great part for that.
After all the discussion and self-examination, Annie was convinced she was still in love with Daniel regardless of the circumstances. At the same time, she knew there was no excuse for her behavior. There was no other way to describe herself. She had been a selfish bitch and that was going easy. She had her chance and she blew it. She would probably regret it for the rest of her life. If it was Daniel’s choice to be with his family, she absolutely must learn to accept it. They had made enough of a mess of things.
The short period of silence made Daniel fidget in his seat. Annie recognized his uneasiness and decided to put him out of his misery. She said, “I can’t say I wasn’t expecting this. I do want to say one thing though. I do love you. I fucked up...in a lot of ways. I’m just sorry for acting the way I did. It was all about me...to hell with Deborah and your kids. I’m gettin’ just what I deserve... a whole lot of nothin’.”
“Annie, you gotta stop that shit. You’re an amazing woman. You’ve got everything for Christ’s sake. Beauty, intelligence, personality, a career, money. You deserve to love a man who’s available to love and adore you right back. Maybe someday you’ll finally get it through your thick skull.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard a lot of that lately. I just want to make things right now. I wish there was something I could do.”
“We’ll see what happens. I can’t even get her to respond to a fuck’n email, much less talk to me on the phone or in person. I’m not gonna give up.”
“I have a question.”
“Shoot.”
“What about Hannah’s case. Who do I talk to for updates?”
“We can only share so much with you, Annie. I’ll talk to Leland and ask him to give you and update now and then. He’ll probably give you about as much as you’ll read in the papers. Speaking of the news, did you read Harris’ article in the Herald this evening?”
They discussed the leak of information for several minutes. Daniel’s anger was flagrant as he complained that one of his agents was evidently capable of compromising the case when Deborah, the boys and Annie could suffer the consequences. After a while, when there was nothing left to say, they drank the la
st of their coffee, wished each other well, and went their separate ways.
Henry Greenburg had lived on South Beach in Miami since long before it became the sunshine state’s tourist Mecca and celebrity hang out. Being a man who always preferred a more culture forward and liberal city to settle in, it’s resurgence in the late eighties and early nineties was a welcome change. He spent most of his earlier adult life residing on the east side of Greenwich Village in Manhattan, building his business as an interior designer. Once he made his name as one of the country’s forerunners in the industry, he packed his bags and moved into his dream home one block from the world-famous Ocean Drive. He still dabbled in decorating homes, but for the last five years, he left the hard work to his younger prodigies managing his nationally renowned design business. He had every intention of taking full advantage of his golden years for living a life of leisure and doing what made him happy.
One of Henry’s biggest weaknesses was young, muscular, gorgeous men and South Beach was teeming with them. During the early years of the beach’s revitalization project, he was still young enough to attract men without having to spend too much money. His entourage of beautiful people of the male persuasion was consistently abundant. However, now that he was rapidly approaching his eighties, paying to spend time with a young, good looking man had become a weekly event. His favorite stomping grounds had become a private men’s club well known for employing upscale male prostitutes. With the payment of a modest fee for a locker or small room, access to an anything goes gay man’s wonderland was granted. The charge for a hustler was much steeper.
Henry was feeling especially lonely that night. The boys to and with whom he rented his guesthouse and shared meals had been away on vacation for the past week and a half. He had just been to the club three days before, but decided at the spur of the moment it would be the perfect remedy for his doldrums. Maybe, he could even convince one of the hustlers to come home with him and spend the night. Though it would cost him some extra cash, a young, muscle bound stud to cuddle against all night was unquestionably the right medicine.
He was pleasantly surprised when five minutes after he arrived at the club, a beautiful, dark-haired man approached him with a very reasonable offer. He wasn’t one of the regulars and his price was well below the typical fee charged by the gigolos sponsored by the club. It wasn’t condoned by the management for free-lance male prostitutes to use the premises to find work. Henry wasn’t about to say anything when he was going to save at least five hundred dollars. After the deal was struck, Henry invited the man back to his place. Since his hire claimed to have had a little bit too much to drink, Henry offered to drive. They left the club together under the watchful and suspicious eye of the manager, hopped into Henry’s Mercedes and started on their way to his South Beach mansion.
The only thing that could rival Shem Chassar’s hatred, abhorrence and ire for a female hooker was an elderly john in search of a male prostitute. They were more vile and putrid than the lowest form of scum living and breathing on planet Earth. Shem made it his business to know the establishments in Miami where he could find any number of old geezers trying to get their rocks off with a boy a quarter their age. He considered it his own personal form of charity to rid the world of as many of the slop suckers as possible. It was an easy decision to head directly to a private men’s club he had read about on the Internet after overhearing the conversation between Annie and the FBI agent at Starbucks. The sense of accomplishment and exhilaration he would receive from preventing one less filthy, perverted, old fuck from ever being able to prey on a young boy would surely have the effect of erasing that irritating memory.
Scrutinizing his field of choices, he targeted Henry Greenburg as soon as he walked through the door onto the private club’s pool deck. Shem knew instantly that Greenburg was a sleazy, ancient troll in search of young company. It was a cinch getting the old man to agree to his terms. He didn’t like the idea of going to Greenberg’s home, but then he had absolutely no intention of doing so. The plan was to get the degenerate to stop in some deserted parking lot before they ever arrived at his house. There was no way the old man could resist Shem’s offer to give him a blow job on the way. As they passed a Publix grocery store off of Alton Road, Shem seized his opportunity. Henry gladly agreed to the proposition and parked his Mercedes in the alley behind the grocery store next to an oversized dumpster.
The instant Henry placed the car in park, Shem reached for his ether soaked rag hidden in a plastic bag in his jacket pocket. He shoved it violently over Henry’s nose and mouth, applying as much pressure as he could to cause a maximum amount of discomfort without cutting off his ability to breathe in the fumes. Henry tried in vain to push Shem’s vice-like grip off his face. After recognizing the futility of his efforts, Henry attempted to blast the horn. Shem was a step ahead of him. He grabbed both of his victim’s wrists with his free hand and squeezed with such force, he could feel something snap. In fact, he broke the radius bone clean in half. Within seconds, Greenburg lost consciousness.
Behind the wheel of Henry’s Mercedes, Shem’s destination was a park located in the southernmost part of Dade County. Several weeks prior, he had studied an online map of the grounds of Coral Reef Park then visited the site to get a better idea as to whether it contained areas secluded enough for his special version of private work. On the property, just behind Coral Reef Elementary School, there was a jogging path that ran through a pineland preserve. It was the ideal spot to dispose of a body. The remainder of the premises was wide open space. The people who frequented that section of the park shouldn’t have reason to enter the wooded area and joggers rarely strayed off the path into the preserve. Even if they did, he doubted they would find anything after he buried the body in the manner he had planned.
On the way to South Miami, Shem stopped to retrieve his bag of provisions at the garage near the private men’s club where he parked his Ford Expedition. He had injected Greenburg with what he had left of the liquid tranquilizer he used on his former colleague, Ken O’Brien at the time of the Anderson murder. He knew Greenburg would be out for at least the ride to the park which would take about 25 minutes. The anticipation of what was soon to come was beginning to fill him with a healthy dose of excitement and euphoria. The rage he experienced earlier in the evening as a result of Annie’s meeting with the agent was already just a low priority, buzzing, gnat-like irritation in the background of his consciousness.
It was after park hours and Shem didn’t want to risk having the Mercedes noticed by one of the police officers who regularly patrolled the grounds at night. The parking lot of the elementary school was not an option either. It was against the law to trespass on school grounds after hours. That wasn’t a risk worth taking. On his previous scouting trip, he found a poorly lit, hammock area leading into the park’s preserve on a dead end residential street beyond the elementary school. The closest homes were approximately fifty yards away. Shem spent several hours that evening observing the neighborhood and saw that both pedestrian and vehicle traffic was sparse. His car remained parked at the edge of the hammock the entire time and was never noticed or reported by the neighbors. There was no routine police patrol on that street to worry about either.
Shem felt confident his operation would go unnoticed and without a hitch as he turned right onto the dead end street continuing the half mile to the edge of the hammock. With his window intentionally rolled down, he listened for the sounds of human activity. The neighborhood was deserted and exceptionally quiet. Even the crickets and tree frogs seemed to have taken the night off, their chirping and croaking eerily absent. The old man was still unconscious, laying in the backseat with his head up against the passenger side door. To be sure Henry didn’t scream or make any loud noises, Shem had tied a gag tightly around his mouth and head.
Shem maneuvered the car off the road so that the passenger’s side was parked along the hammock. After exiting the vehicle, he removed his bag of provisions from the tr
unk. Other than the slight noise he made raising the lid, one could hear a pin drop. With the bag in hand, he made his way into the trees to relocate the site he had chosen on his first visit to the preserve. He placed the bag against one of the larger pine trees in the area then returned to the Mercedes. The old man hadn’t moved an inch. Shem opened the back door, placed his hands underneath Henry’s arm pits and pulled him gently onto the ground beside the car. He wanted to be sure Henry didn’t wake up just yet so that his transport to the site would be less complicated.
Twigs snapped under Shem’s feet as he carried the dead weight of the unconscious old man through the tight spaces between the pine trees to his selected work site. He laid Henry down on a natural bed of pine leaves in a small clearing approximately the size of a broom closet. It had been more than forty five minutes since Shem gave Henry the tranquilizer injection. He should be waking up any minute. To expedite the process, Shem lifted him to a seated a position, placed his hands on the old man’s frail shoulders and shook his upper body violently. Henry’s neck snapped back and forth like a child’s bobble head toy until he was finally startled into consciousness. It took him just a few seconds to become aware of the excruciating pain brought on by the broken bone and that he was gagged and bound at the wrists and ankles. The tight nylon string at the injured wrist felt as though it was cutting through flesh. When he saw Shem with a butcher’s knife in his hand standing over him, he feebly attempted a scream. The most he could muster was a muffled squeal that couldn’t have carried for more than a few yards.
Henry had read about the various serial murderers of gay men such as John Wayne Gacy and Jeffrey Dahmer. He was actually somewhat obsessed with their stories having, himself, engaged in the risky behavior of hiring prostitutes for many years. He watched multiple documentaries and movies made about these killers and feared one day he would become a victim. Now, his worst nightmares were about to come true. He desperately tried to focus through the fear and pain to think of a way to save himself. Getting to his feet was impossible. The only way he could move was to roll along the ground. With the trees and a healthy young man pursuing him, he wouldn’t get very far. His sole option was to attempt to convince the man not to hurt him. As he looked into the vacant, charcoal-black eyes of his aggressor to address him, his bladder was instinctively stimulated causing him to wet his pants.