Dreams of Paradise

by R. B. Conroy

“Yes. It’s in front of your house, dumb ass.”

  “Good. Like we agreed, you will drive the truck into Dr. Stone’s driveway and park in the third lane in front of the golf cart garage. We are in luck, because Pedro’s truck looks very much like Dr. Stone’s truck and Dr. Stone sometimes leaves his truck out at night, so if a neighbor happens to wake up and see a truck parked in the drive late at night, it will not cause them any concern, it’s normal. If he happens to leave it out Saturday, I will pull it in the garage before I leave. He leaves the keys on a hook in the garage and I often move vehicles around for him.”

  “Okay. Go ahead.”

  “After getting out of the truck, you will walk around the house to this window.” Willie poked his dirty finger at the window about thirty feet from the garage door. “Getting inside quickly is important. Dr. Stone’s neighbors will be in bed, but like I just said, one of them might wake up and possibly look over at Dr. Stone’s house. It will be a dark, moonless night, but they still might be able to…”

  Tito interrupted, “You checked to see if there is a moon tomorrow night?” Tito was starting to appreciate the planning that his scruffy friend had put into this project.

  “Yes, of course. I wanted to know how visible Dr. Stone’s house will be to the neighbors if one of them happens to wake up and look that way. There will be no moon for tomorrow night, so if you get quietly out of the truck and go around the side of the house next to the golf cart garage, it will be very difficult for anyone to see you. The window you will be crawling into is in his den, which is right across from his bedroom.”

  “Does he have one of those burglar alarm things?”

  Willie grinned, “No, he’s too trusting. He says there is no crime in The Villages, so why should he have a security system?”

  Tito’s brow lifted, “Good.”

  “I went in the den and unlocked the window before I left the house this morning. He runs the air all of the time, so he never messes with any of his windows. He will have no idea that it is unlocked. I moved it up and down a couple of times to be sure it wasn’t hard to open or anything. The window slides up very easily, so you will have no problem opening it. Open it slowly, if you open it quickly it squeaks a little. I sprayed WD-40 on it, but just be careful.”

  A surprised Tito, studied the diagram.

  “I picked this window because there is nothing under it that you could stumble on when you get inside the house. Also, Dr. Stone has plugged a little nightlight in the outlet of the den so he can see if he can’t sleep at night and decides to do some work in his office. You will be able to see well enough to get across the room and into Dr. Stone’s bedroom. I would imagine that when you enter the den you will be able to hear him snoring. My mom says he snores very loudly. If you don’t hear him snoring, you may want to wait awhile until he falls back to sleep just to be on the safe side.”

  Tito nodded and flashed a quick smile. “You spend a lot of time on this; maybe you not so stupid.”

  “I have man, we can’t be too careful. Also, you should close the window behind you when you first go in. The silencer on the .38 will muffle most of the sound, but it will still make some sound, so you better close the window before you shoot the gun.”

  The ‘shoot the gun’ comment sent a chill up Tito’s spine. It had all sounded like a game of chess or something until Willie mentioned shooting the gun. The seriousness of the situation shot through him like a bolt of electricity.

  “You okay?” Willie asked.

  The trace of concern that had been on Tito’s face soon disappeared, replaced by a cold, empty look--the hateful Tito was back. “Yes, I’m ready to go. I’ll plug him in the head a couple times to be sure he’s dead.”

  Willie glared at the heartless Tito, his eyes glossed over.

  “What’s the matter with you? Tito demanded.

  “It just hard for me to hear you talk like that about the old guy. He’s been good to me. I don’t like hearing the gory details; just be sure you get the job done.” Willie shifted nervously in his chair. “We don’t want any screw-ups.”

  “Don’t worry, Mr. Cry Baby, I will be sure the old gringo never sees the light of day again.” A cocky smile spread across the face of the heartless Tito.

  Willie studied Tito’s face in mock disbelief for a couple of seconds and then spoke, restraining his obvious irritation at his cohort’s comments. “The next part is very important. You have to make it look like a botched robbery attempt. That will take the suspicion off people Dr. Stone knows, like you and me. Be sure you wear these.” Willie reached in the drawer again and pulled out a pair of latex gloves and tossed them in front of Tito. “Wear these and you will leave absolutely no finger prints.”

  Tito nodded. “You want me to dump out all of the drawers and mess up the house and stuff? So it look like a robbery?”

  “Yes, but don’t over do it. Just mess up a few drawers where a robber might think there are valuables, such as the desk in the den and his chest of drawers. Dr. Joe is very trusting, so he leaves his large jewelry box setting on top of his chest. It has a lot of old gold watches and rings and other stuff in that jewelry box. Be sure and take a bag of some kind with you and empty the contents of that box into the bag. That is the kind of thing a robber would do. The police are smart enough to know that a robber will not empty every single drawer in the house. A robber will be in a hurry and will just go through the areas where he thinks there will be valuables, so I think you should mess up the drawers in the chest and empty the jewelry box and go through a few drawers in the built-in cabinets in the den and then get the hell out of there. A good cat burglar won’t linger in the house any longer than necessary, especially if the homeowner wakes up and he has to kill him. He’ll want out of there in a hurry to improve his chances of not getting caught.”

  Tito’s brow narrowed, “Cat burglar? Are you making fun of me?”

  Willie grinned, “No, no. A cat burglar is a burglar that comes into someone’s house when they are home. That’s what a cat burglar is.”

  Tito shook his head dismissively, “Who gets the money from the jewelry box? It sounds like a lot.” He glowered at Willie.

  “You’re right, it will be a lot. I’ve kind of estimated that the jewelry in that box is worth about $20,000, but we don’t want to sell it right away. It might give us away. We should hold it for a least a year and then sell a few pieces at a time to avoid getting the cops on our ass.”

  Tito frowned, “Okay, I will wait, but tell me right now how much do I get?”

  “How about we split it 50-50?”

  “I take all of the chances and we split 50-50? No way, I want six cents on the dollar.”

  Willie exhaled slowly, “Okay, but we have to wait at least a year.”

  “Okay.”

  Willie took a sip of coffee and studied his diagram of the house for a moment and then turned his attention back on Tito. “After a little messing up of the living room cabinets for effect, you will leave the house through the same window, being certain to close it all the way and then wrap a handkerchief or something around your hand and break the window pane nearest to the latch on the window. That will make it look like a pure break-in with no inside help.”

  Tito’s dark eyes scanned Willie’s face. “You know a lot about break-ins; it looks like you’ve done them yourself.”

  Willie grinned, “You’re right and I’ve never been caught and we don’t want you to get caught either. Just do everything I told you and we should be alright. Pay attention to the little things, and you’ll be driving that bad ass low-rider before you know it.

  Tito smiled broadly, all traces of angst were gone. “The chicks will love me when I’m cruising around in my Chevy!”

  “After tomorrow our lives will change forever,” Willie flashed a grin.

  The two men shared a half-hearted high-five. “You got a good plan and I know what to do. I gotta go now. I call one time if I have any questions.” Tito said matter-of-factly. He quickl
y stood, slipped around Willie and opened the front door. Without saying a word or making any eye contact with Willie, he hurried to the truck, started up and pulled away.

  “I guess we’re not going clubbin’ tonight,” Willie mumbled under his breath.

  Chapter 36

  Willie stared blankly at the flickering flame on his Bic lighter, flipping it on and off nervously. The scent of burnt lighter fluid permeated the stale air in the tiny room. With his carefully planned murder of Dr. Stone lying just ahead for him, his emotions were running all over the place. Afraid and uncertain, he began to reflect on what he and Tito were about to do. Willie had never had been very close to any male figure in his life. He had never known his real father, who had abandoned him and his mother before he was even born. The parade of boyfriends that his mother had brought into the house during his adolescence had only added to his feelings of alienation toward male role models. A few of the live-ins, as his mother preferred to call them, had actually been verbally abusive to the young Willie. A scrawny lad with a freckled face and large protruding ears, he was mockingly called ‘Dumbo’ more than once by one of his mother’s intoxicated lovers. Others would grin and tell him that he looked like ‘Howdy Doody’ or ‘Alfred E. Newman’. It’s no wonder that he grew up resenting older men and harboring a deep sense of mistrust toward them.

  Willie’s dirty thumb slid off the Bic. He watched the flame flicker out and a thin wisp of black smoke rose to the ceiling. He looked through the dirty kitchen window at the blue-gray sky outside. He fell back against his chair and stuffed the lighter in his jean’s pocket. The only man who had treated him with respect during his tumultuous life was the man he was about to have killed--Dr. Stone. Willie was as close to him as he could ever get to another man. He found the well-spoken doctor to be sensitive and caring. He genuinely liked Dr. Stone.

  For one of the few times in his life, Willie was feeling a sense of remorse for what he was about to do. He felt very conflicted about taking the life of Dr. Joe, but he knew that he had to go through with it. To his way of thinking, a quarter of a million would solve all his problems. He may have liked the doc, but not enough to give up the chance at that kind of money. He could get a nice pad in Orlando, buy a nice car, and still have a wad of cash left in his pocket to buy coke and Mary Jane whenever he wanted it. He would have it made. The women would be chasing after him and the guys at the clubs would be impressed with his money. He would become a big player in the busy Orlando night scene. For once in his life, he would be the go-to-guy, instead of a hanger-on. He just couldn’t wait. He took a deep breath, grimaced, and murmured, “Poor bastard.”

  Willie stood, walked over next to the sink, his bloodshot eyes squinted into the light from the window. He leaned against the metal sink under the window and looked over at the mobile home next door just as the side door swung open. A shirtless, heavily tattooed man with a two-day beard and scraggily hair, leaned out the door and tossed a pan of water on the weedy ground below. The man quickly grabbed his sagging jeans to keep them from falling down below his waist and stepped back inside. Willie watched as the door closed behind him.

  What a loser! Willie thought. I won’t be living next to that kind of trash anymore. A smile of contentment spread across his stubble-covered face.

  Chapter 37

  12:03 a.m.

  bodi, are you awake? i’m at my grandpa’s in the villages staying overnight.

  12:04 a.m.

  yeah, cool, I’m up. we’ve been at aunt amy’s house in ocala playing scrabble. BORING!!!!

  just got home a little while ago. what’s up bro?

  12:05 a.m.

  not much, just hangin’. grandpa’s cool. he took me to the movie and then we ate at johnny rocket’s. when I told him I was out of cash, he gave me twenty bucks! He lets me sleep on the large leather sofa in the family room so I can watch netflicks on his big screen TV. just turned it off. grandpa’s rich, this house is sweet!

  12:07 a.m.

  that’s awesome! wish my grandpa would give me twenty, he’s kinda poor. Thought u were stayin’ there on friday night?

  12:07 a.m.

  grandpa had something to do on friday, so I came tonight. just a minute bodi! shit! I think I hear something in the den. someone is coming through the window in the den. scary man!

  12:08 a.m.

  r u serious?

  12:08 a.m.

  yes!!!! i can see a man’s shadow through the door to the den! he just came through window, he’s inside!!!!

  12:08 a.m.

  no frickin’ way man. stop texting me and call 911 right away mark.

  12:09 a.m.

  okay bye.

  His hands shaking in fright, Mark quickly punched 911. He rolled off the couch and onto the floor. He scrambled on all fours and got behind the end of the couch. He yanked his shirt up over his head and listened for the 911 operator.

  “911.”

  “I…I’m at my Grandpa’s and s…someone just came in the den through a window,” Mark whispered as quietly as he could, hoping the sounds of the nearby fish tank would override the sound of his voice.

  “Calm down young man and give me the address,” the operator spoke quietly also, not wanting the intruder to hear her voice.

  “n…nine thirty-eight Sunset Ridge Drive. I…uh think.”

  “Someone is on the way. Stay quiet and do not confront the intruder under any circumstances, young man! Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m staying on the phone, but let’s not talk unless we have to, the intruder may hear us.”

  “Okay.”

  Mark was frantic. He jerked the shirt from off his head and lurched to his right so he could see the door next to his Grandpa’s bedroom. The shadow from the street lights fell across the den and into his Grandpa’s bedroom. The intruder was now on his way to Grandpa’s room. His Grandpa was sound asleep and snoring loudly.

  Wide-eyed and with his heart pounding out of his chest, Mark watched in complete horror as the dark figure came out of the den and stepped quietly toward the door to Grandpa’s bedroom. Shaking all over, and fearing that his Grandpa would be hurt, Mark disregarded the orders of the 911 operator and made the decision to try and save his beloved Grandpa. He jumped to his feet and screamed at the top of his lungs, “Grandpa! Grandpa! Wake up! There’s someone in….” Before he could finish, the menacing figure turned toward Mark and pointed something at him. He heard a muffled sound and something ripped through the leather on the sofa right next to him. It was a bullet--a bullet had just ripped through the couch just inches from Mark’s belly. Scared to death, Mark spun around and darted across the dark room toward the back slider. He desperately fumbled for the handle to the large glass sliders that led out to the backyard. He finally got a good grip on the elusive handle and yanked it open. A powerful sense of grief overcame him when he heard his Grandpa’s anguished voice imploring the intruder not to hurt him, “Please no! Please don’t! Who are….” Several more muffled shots could be heard coming from his Grandpa’s room. Mark paused, frozen in place. He could hear his Grandpa moaning in pain as the bullets ripped into him. Tears welled in Mark’s eyes. Afraid for his own life, but sickened by what was happening to his Grandpa, Mark darted through the open door and ran as fast as he could through the darkened yard to freedom. Phone in hand, he could hear the 911 operator shouting, “Are you alright young man! Are you alright?”

  Mark blasted head first through the thick landscaping that bordered the back of his Grandpa’s yard. Pointy branches on the bushes ripped into the flesh on his arms and face, but he kept running and running for his life. Soon he was in an open area. The golf course! He had ran onto the golf course that wound its way through his Grandpa’s neighborhood. He stopped for just a second to get his bearings and then he continued to run as fast as his tired legs would carry him across the broad golf course. A short time later his tired legs finally gave out and totally exhausted, he fell like a sack of potatoes onto th
e grassy damp surface of the golf course. His chest heaving, his face and arms covered in blood, he lay sobbing on the cool ground.

  Just moments later, he heard sirens nearby and rolled to his side and watched as a pick-up truck sped past on Bailey Trail. Soon, a sheriff’s car with its red lights flashing and its siren blasting shot out of the dark night in hot pursuit of the speeding truck.

  Certain that he was now safe from the deadly intruder, Mark rolled to his back, his terrified eyes stared up at the moonless sky. An overwhelming feeling of sadness came over him. His slender body was trembling uncontrollably from the agonizing emotions of the past several minutes. Filled with the horror of the moment and attempting to get his breath, the young boy clasped his blood-stained hands together and wailed at the sky, “Forgive me God, for not saving Grandpa! Forgive me!” His weary arms dropped to his side, his cell phone fell to the ground. “Are you alright young man, please answer me. Are you alright?”

  Chapter 38

  A Year Later

  The huge red-orange sun fell lazily from the sky behind a stand of queen palms, swaying gently in the evening breeze. Below the trees, a flock of small birds scattered helter skelter in the wake of a passing golf cart. The bright red cart groaned up a slight incline and jerked to a stop next to the tee on the ninth and final hole at Tarpon Boil golf course. A slender, neatly dressed man chuckled at the comment of his cart mate and then slid out of the cart, snatched a mid-iron from his bag and approached the tee area.

  The deeply tanned man leaned down and teed up his ball and then took several quick short practice swings. He paused for a second and looked out from under his fedora cap at the green that was some one hundred and sixty yards away. He took his stance, spread his legs slightly apart and laid the club head on the ground just behind the ball. He took one more look at the green and then he lifted the club slowly and swung down at the ball. He watched as the ball sailed toward the distant green, hit the edge of the bunker just in front of the green and then fall into the trap. He swung the club backward at the ground in disgust, a small duff of grass flew into the air. Shaking his head, he walked carefully down the incline on the side of the tee and dropped his club in the bag. He slid into the driver’s side on the cart, still shaking his head. A blond-haired lady wearing a pink visor, gave him a consoling pat to the arm as the cart sped toward the ladies tee.