Redemption U. and other Short Stories
Page 6
Joe didn’t know what to say at that point, but he recovered and, looking at the girl he thought was his, he said, “Look”, this was a mistake. I’ll leave you two to it.” And he started to walk away.
“I’m sorry Joe,” was all she said, before closing the door.
It had to be at that moment a plan began to form in the mind of Joe Buono.
Chapter Four
Joe knew he wasn’t the most attractive choice for a woman, with his short stature and all. He was shy, perhaps because of it. He was prematurely balding, so that he had to comb the thin strands from the side of his head across his crown. He had a long nose, slightly bent downward, mindful of a vulture.
He was only a second class petty officer. He didn’t make a lot of money. He couldn’t buy fancy cars. He knew his shortcomings, no pun intended.
He had really cared about Annabelle. If she’d been just some bar girl or floozy he’d picked up for a one night stand it would have been different. He couldn’t shake this one off.
He didn’t blame the woman. Murphy was a good-looking hulk of a man, Joe would give him that. He had no scruples, but that didn’t show right away. There were stories that went around in country that he was a sadist. He liked to hurt women, especially when he didn’t get his way.
Joe would soon rationalize he was doing it for her. Everyone would be better off if Gunnery Sergeant Lawrence Murphy left the planet. Joe was going to punch his one-way ticket.
His first task would be to get a gun. He couldn’t buy one, because that would take too long, and it could be traced. He knew where he could find a forty-five, which he knew how to handle.
There was a guy in the barracks who had brought just what he needed back from Iraq. The idiot kept it in his locker. He’d taken Joe target shooting with it, and Joe had seen a box of ammo sitting right next to the gun. It would be easy to steal it, because the guy worked the mid shift.
He would need an ironclad alibi. That might not be so easy. First he would have to find a perfect time to Kill Murphy.
It was a couple of days later when a notice was posted on the base bulletin board that a non-commissioned officers dance would be held the following Saturday night. Perfect. He would do it then.
The dance was to be held in the base recreation center. It was at the far western end of the island, near the launch dock. The island narrowed in that one spot where it was only about the length of a football field across. The Rec center was nearly in the middle of that area. That fact would simplify his plan greatly. If Murphy didn’t attend, he would have to scrap his idea altogether, and start over. One thing was clear in his mind, though. He would do it one way or another.
The water temperature in the Strait of Juan De Fuca is fifty-four to fifty-eight degrees all year round. It’s slightly warmer in the channel between Magdar Island and the town, due to more shallow water, and a slight stagnancy from time to time. This a fact significant to the plan of Joe Buono. Even with the water a degree or two warmer on the town side of the island, He would need a wet suit to combat the cold, and help him avoid hypothermia.
He had made the swim earlier wearing the wet suit of a guy who wore it surfing off Ocean Shores down to the south. He’d been transferred. Joe wouldn’t have taken the chance borrowing it anyway for fear the sailor might talk.
He drove into Seattle on a Thursday night before the big weekend. He found a wet suit that fit at a small shop along the waterfront. They catered to divers who needed the protection. It wasn’t that much warmer in Puget Sound.
He took a chance and called Annie. He asked her to the dance, figuring he could cancel if she said yes. But if she was going with Larry Murphy, she might tell him. SHE WAS GOING WITH MURPHY! His plan was nearly set.
Next he let it be known he wouldn’t be going to the dance that weekend. He had a hot date in Seattle. No one really believed he had a date, but he could be heading over to the mainland.
Larry Murphy had plans of his own. There was no way he wanted Buono at that dance, because Annie still had a soft spot for him, he was sure. He arranged for the little guy to get stuck with the duty.
When Joe found out, and that Murphy had done him in, he was livid. It would ruin everything. He had to be off the island as far as everybody was concerned.
He went to the duty officer. The Lieutenant was in charge of Joe’s duty station in the infirmary. He was sympathetic to Joe’s appeal, and rescinded the duty order, assigning it to someone else.
The big day finally arrived. Joe ate breakfast at 7:30 in the mess hall. He talked to a couple of guys sitting across from him, mentioning that he was going to Seattle. He had to catch the 11:45 ferry out of Bainbridge Island. With any luck he would be staying with a woman he had met a few weeks ago, who had invited him over.
He went back to the barracks around 8:15 and changed into civvies. He carried a duffel bag which held his wet suit. He had hidden the gun in bushes near the Rec center. No one had seen him. He caught the 9 am launch to Point Venture. Everything was going according to his time schedule.
He picked up his Studebaker from storage and was in line for the ferry to Seattle at 11. He didn’t dare get there any later, for fear of missing the ferry and having to wait for the next one. It wouldn’t have been a critical mistake. He just didn’t have the patience to wait.
When he drove off the ferry in downtown Seattle, he headed north. He had some time, and he’d decided to go to a movie in the Greenwood district. He would be able to use up time before catching the Kingston ferry at Edmonds.
The movie was probably good, but he was too preoccupied to tell. He left the theater at 4pm.
In the summertime in the Pacific Northwest it doesn’t turn completely dark until nearly 10pm, because the Sun is relatively high in the northern hemisphere. The dance would be over at 11. His time frame to accomplish the deed was around 10:15.
Allowing for any contingencies like accidents on the road, or God forbid, a ferry breakdown, which almost never happened, Joe caught the Kingston Ferry earlier than he probably needed to. Joe was back on the peninsula by 6.
He had dinner at a small café just off Kingston harbor. He was back in Point Venture by 7:30. He parked the Studebaker in a lot by where he planned to enter the water, and walked the short block to the water’s edge. He could always abort, but he saw no one he knew. On the beach he donned the wet suit, hid the duffel bag nearby, and slipped into the frigid water.
He was in no hurry to complete the swim, so for part of the journey, he rolled over on his back, to save energy. He would need his wits about him for the final part of his plan.
He flipped back over when he realized the strong current was causing him to drift rapidly east, away from his destination. He’d been daydreaming while looking up at the slowly darkening sky. He realized his plan had many holes, problem areas he hadn’t considered before; things such as there were many places he could have been seen that would dispute his story of being in Seattle on a hot date, or even worse, that he would have been discovered in the water by a boater. He still had to navigate his way ashore unnoticed, no small task on a busy Saturday night.
He saw a few boats in the channel, but they were far enough away, he was certain he wasn’t seen. It was completely dark, and fifteen minutes before he needed to be at the window of the Rec Center, gun in hand, when he emerged from the chilly water.
He was a good one hundred yards east of where he had planned to be when he came out of the water. He had to climb a small seawall rather than just walk up a sandy beach, but it wasn’t much of an inconvenience. There was no one in sight as he covered the extra ground to where he had hidden the gun.
As he reached the south wall of the building where the dance was in progress, he began checking windows. It would be better if he found one open. He cursed his lack of planning, realizing he could have opened a window himself; one nearest where he would reenter the water, making his escape.
He was in luck. It was an unusually warm night, and the fog had roll
ed in from the west only an hour before, trapping the day’s heat, as well as providing slightly better cover for Joe Buono, potential murderer.
He peered through the window frame at the crowd inside. He was sure the dancers couldn’t see him. Another flaw in his plan occurred to him at that instant. What if his quarry never came close to that particular window?
He was starting to have doubts about the entire thing, when he saw them; gunnery sergeant Larry Murphy and his date. They were jumping up and down to a fast piece, and they were a good two feet apart. Now if they would just come a little closer to the open window. His eyes were fixed on the marine, who was in uniform, surely to impress his dance partner. Most of the other attendees were in civilian clothes.
The music had lasted nearly five minutes without interruption, and when it ended Murphy suggested to his date that they would be more comfortable if they got a little air. He looked around, and seeing the curtain flutter at the nearby window, he took his date’s arm, and pulled her behind him, directly at where Joe Buono was waiting.
Murphy looked out the window, and his intended killer thought for a second he was spotted, but it didn’t really matter, because at that second he fired.
A look of disbelief appeared on Murphy’s face as he clutched his chest, and his knees gave out as he crumpled to the floor.
Joe Buono lingered at the window for just a second, long enough for him to realize that the girl behind his target was not Annie.
Unable to comprehend what he had just seen, he began to run, away from the window toward the sandy beach where he would reenter the water.
In a sort of daze, he tripped over some driftwood and went tumbling. He jumped up quickly, knowing there wasn’t much time before the beach would be crawling with security.
Reaching the beach he dove into the dark water, and began swimming furiously. Suddenly a sort of euphoria engulfed him, when he realized he had done it.
Maybe the woman wasn’t Annie. So what? Maybe she’d had second thoughts, and she was coming back to him. At least Murphy was gone from their lives, and now he could get her back. His mind was filled with thoughts of how it would be. There was no remorse. It was just like with the cat. It was over, and he wouldn’t be caught. But to be safe, he swam mostly with his head down to increase his speed away from the island, and to make fewer ripples that might be seen. It wouldn’t do for his pursuers to know how he made his getaway.
He must have been swimming furiously for nearly an hour, when he finally looked up, expecting the waterfront of Point Venture to be right there. Instead he saw nothing, just fog and more fog. His arms were extremely weary, and he knew he couldn’t make it much farther.
He turned back toward where he’d come from. Just then the fog lifted slightly, allowing him to see the lights of the island, and beyond, on a hill, the brilliance of Point Venture.
The end