Deadly Conception

by Patrick Blake

“Yessir. There's a flight leaving at 9:10 this evening. It lands just before midnight in Jacksonville Unfortunately, there’s a seven-hour layover before the next flight takes you to the Fort Lauderdale-Hollywood International Airport. From there it’s a two-and-a-half-hour layover until a 10:40 morning flight that gets into Key West International Airport just before Noon. Will that be acceptable?”

  “Yes ma'am. I'll take it.” Liam handed over his debit card. As she took the card, he felt a meaty paw on his shoulder.

  “Hey, Lilo. I'm glad I caught up with you. Going somewhere?”

  The teenager turned around and looked into Nino’s paunchy face, as the color drained from his own.

  “Yeah...I mean, no. No! I'm just making plans to visit family later this summer,” Lilo sputtered.

  “Is that so? Well I'm glad I caught you. Let's take a walk.”

  The ticket agent finished booking the flights, looked up, and offered Lilo his debit card and boarding passes.

  “Here you go, sir. You’re checked through to Key West. Is everything okay?”

  Nino smiled easily, took the paperwork, and answered the ticket agent before Lilo could. “He's just fine, Ma’am. My son and I just need to have a conversation about the rules.”

  He started to walk, tugging Lilo with him. But the scrawny teen resisted and shrugged off the older man's hand.

  “I'm not going anywhere with you,” Lilo hissed.

  Nino remained cool. “Lilo, you and I need to have a conversation about the rules. Your mom and sister really miss you. Now, come on. You don't want to make a scene here, do you?”

  Lilo stood rigid, stared up at the beefy Nino, and his mind spun wildly. He’s threatening Ma and Bridget. Dammit!

  His shoulders sank and he mumbled in a low tone. “No, I don't wanna make a scene. Let's go.”

  The pair walked away. Lilo clutched the heavy knapsack in his right hand and Nino clenched the young boy’s shoulders with his weighty arm. The older man calmly guided the youngster toward the exit of the terminal.

  Nino’s dark Cadillac waited outside.

  “Put your bag in the trunk and get in.”

  “Nino, I can explain. Really. I…”

  “Get in the front.”

  Lilo closed the trunk, slid into the passenger seat, and shut the door.

  “Nino…please…lemme explain.”

  The portly man eased into the nighttime traffic, heading toward Lilo’s Dorchester neighborhood.

  “Lilo. Calm down. We just need to have a talk about the rules.”

  “I know, Nino. I know. But you gotta understand…”

  “Lilo. Chill out, you little fag.” Nino smiled broadly. “Tell me. Did you have a good trip?”

  “Huh? Yeah. It was a lot of fun. Look, Nino. I just needed to blow off some steam. I was careful…like you said.”

  “What did you do…you know…while you were there? I’ve never been.”

  “What? Um, well, I did some fishing…just a couple a days.”

  “Fishing? Oh man, that sounds nice. Sunshine, the water, maybe some hotties?”

  “I was careful, Nino. I didn’t do a private charter. I was with a group. You know. Keeping it low key.”

  “Catch anything?”

  “Uh, yeah, well I got a bunch of fluke on the first day and some bass on the second day. I felt good to be outside. You know…blowing off some steam after two months in the hole.”

  “Oh, yeah. I get it. We all gotta blow off steam every now and then. But we gotta be careful. You know? Can’t call attention to ourselves.”

  “Yeah. Right. I kept it cool, Nino. I swear.”

  “You did some jet skiing, too, right?”

  “Um, yeah. But just for the day. It was only a few hundred dollars. Nothing crazy.”

  “And you stayed at a little condo by the beach, right? For, like, $2,700 for the week, right?”

  “Er…yeah. All the cheap places were booked up. It was all I could get. I’m sorry, Nino. I’ll be more careful. I swear.”

  “Lilo, would you please fuckin’ relax. You’re like a scared cat. I heard you got some new tattoos, true?”

  “Oh…yeah…I been wanting ‘em for a while. That’s cool, though, right? I mean…it’s just tats. Dot Ave kids get ‘em all the time.”

  “Yeah. They do,” Nino agreed. “Hey, this is your street, right? Shandon Road? Lemme pull around back into the tire shop parking. I don’t think you want anyone seeing you get outta my car, right?”

  “Uh, yeah, good thinkin’. Thanks.”

  Nino pulled onto Blue Hill Avenue and then backed into the Blue Hill Tire Shop parking lot. The store was closed, the streets were empty, and the scarce number of working streetlights left the block eerily dark.

  “Lilo, you’re a good kid. You did a good job for us. But we need everyone to follow the rules or we all get fucked.”

  “I know, Nino. I’ll be careful from now on. I just needed a break…like I said, blow off some steam. You understand, right?”

  “Yeah, yeah. No doubt. But gettin’ those tattoos…well…three grand…that’s a lot. People start talking. Askin’ how’s a kid like you get that money? See what I mean?”

  “Aw, Nino. Shit. That’s nothing. If anyone thinks two seconds about it, they figure I’m dealin’ or something.”

  “Yeah…yeah…but they talk. And we can’t have that. Right? So, no more spending that money. You got it?”

  “Yeah. No probs, Nino. You got it. Thanks.”

  “And no more trips, right? Stay in the city.”

  “Yeah. Totes”

  “Okay. Let’s go get your bag. I’m glad we had this talk.”

  The two stepped out of the car and rounded their way to the trunk. Nino sprung the lid and moved behind Lilo so he could reach his bag. The teen leaned over, grabbed his knapsack, and stood up slinging the bag over his shoulder.

  As he was about to turn around, he felt a rag smashed into his face and held there. Lilo gasped and then held his breath. He tried to push back from the car, but he couldn’t budge the burly Nino. Swinging his arms wildly to get free, Lilo felt his knees crush against the car bumper. Nino drove his weight onto the thin teen, forcing his torso into the empty trunk and hyper-extending his spindly legs against the bumper.

  Lilo struggled to break free and hold his breath, but the carbon dioxide build-up in his cells triggered overwhelming impulses to breathe. At last, he sucked for air. The sweet-smelling chloroform immediately relaxed the boy. His struggle faded, and his body went limp as he fell into an unconscious state.

  Nino scooped him easily into the trunk of the roomy Cadillac. He quickly zip tied Lilo’s ankles and wrists. Then he rammed the rag into the teen’s mouth and secured it in place with duct tape. He nonchalantly closed the trunk, calmly got back in his car, started the motor, and eased onto Blue Hill Avenue.

  Chapter 3 – New York City

  It was well after midnight by the time Gabriel got to his condo in midtown Manhattan. He and Iona arrived at JFK on time. But heavy traffic on the Grand Central Parkway delayed their share ride from the airport in Queens to his ex's Tribeca brownstone where he dropped off his daughter before continuing uptown.

  Gabriel greeted the building concierge with a fist bump. “Hey Bobby, how you doing tonight?”

  “Hey Mr. Sweeney, good to see you. How was the Vineyard? How’s Iona?”

  “The Vineyard was fantastic. You gotta find a way to get yourself there. You'll love it. And you know Iona – life’s a bowl of cherries and she's holding the bowl.”

  “You got that right. Iona is a gem. Full of life. Oh, hey Mr. Sweeney, I've got a bunch of mail for you.” Bobby handed over a shopping bag full of letters, fliers, and a few large envelopes.

  “Thanks Bobby, it looks like I've got some light reading to do tonight.” Gabriel exhaled heavily. “Still, it's good to be home.”

  “You have a good night Mr. Sweeney. It’s good to have you back. Let me know if there's anything I can get you.”

&nb
sp; “Thanks, Bobby. Good night.”

  Gabriel walked into his 28th floor condo, kicked off his shoes, and dropped his bag by the stairs leading to his loft bedroom. Shuffling into the kitchen, he emptied the shopping bag full of mail onto the counter and let the small mountain of paper spread freely. He reached for a glass from the cabinet, added ice cubes from the freezer, and poured two fingers of Jameson's Black Barrel whiskey.

  Gabriel quickly sorted through the mail, separated the junk from the bills, and made a third pile for things he needed to look at right away. There were two manila envelopes that caught his attention. One was from his divorce lawyer and the other was from the Internal Revenue Service.

  Gabriel tore open the one from his divorce lawyer first and quickly skimmed the contents. There were three sets of stapled documents. The first was a copy of the 15-page fully endorsed Consent Order for his divorce and child custody agreement. He tossed it aside. The next was a 20-page transcript from the final court proceedings. He flipped it on top of the Consent Order. The last document was a five-page invoice that outlined $258,305 in legal fees, transcription expenses, and court costs that Gabriel still owed on top of the $71,000 he’d already paid.

  “Jesus H. Christ!” he exclaimed to the empty room. “How the hell am I going to pay this? Goddammit.”

  Gabriel knocked back his drink, poured another, and reached for the package from the IRS.

  This can't be good. He ripped open the envelope.

  He sifted through several documents. The first page announced the IRS initiated a field audit, and requested Gabriel set up a face-to-face appointment with an IRS agent. The remaining pages outlined more than $375,000 in back income tax charges, late filing fees, interest, and penalties. All of it related to a now-defunct business venture Gabriel had launched with a former colleague after they were both fired from one of the larger New York PR agencies. On top of the back taxes there were liabilities for failure to distribute payroll withholding funds for Social Security, Medicare, federal income tax, unemployment, and disability-insurance withholding.

  “Oh, for chrissake!” Gabriel raised his voice. “Jacob, you piece-of-shit! How the hell am I ever going to make this go away?”

  Jacob Carniss was Gabriel’s one-time workmate and barstool buddy. They were terminated on the same day two years ago. The two upstarts decided to go into business together. Operating a limited-liability company, the pair shared profits but split their roles. Gabriel handled business development and client services. Jacob took on budgets, compliance, contracts, and administration.

  Things started fast and well. But luck ran out quickly after Jacob started dating his Maldivian yoga instructor, and then ran off with her to live on a beach paradise in the Maldives, an island nation off the southwestern tip of India that has no extradition treaty with the U.S.

  It took Gabriel a month to unwind Jacob’s drunk-on-love mess but when he did it was clear the ex-partner embezzled, neglected licensing, ignored contracts, and failed to pay suppliers. Gabriel reconciled with his vendors and staff, but he was left with a pile of debt, broken contracts and unhappy clients. He was forced to restructure and rename the business, starting again on his own. He purposely opted-out of bankruptcy to avoid any more reputational damage but doing so left him with mounting debts. It all made his recovery slow…and seemingly hopeless…depending on the day.

  “Jesus, I need money…and I need it fast,” Gabriel whispered, drained his glass, and climbed the stairs to his loft bedroom.

  He tapped a message to Cody Gosnold, his racquetball partner and contract business lawyer. Cody was smart, fast, and fun. He held both law and business degrees. He was also independent and that made him a bargain compared to anyone of his caliber from one of the Big Four firms. Cody drafted legal agreements and created business plans. He was also an A-level club player and routinely crushed Gabriel on the court.

  Cody, just back in town. Can you come over to my place after we play Sunday? I need your help untangling the money mess I’m in.

  Chapter 4 – Sunday, July 22 (Boston)

  Raimy returned from the Newton local mall, poured himself a drink, then moved out onto his backyard patio. His excursion with the boys for a movie was cut short when they spotted some friends and ditched their dad. Raimy wasn’t hurt, much.

  Teenagers. He smiled. Maybe I’ll get some sugar from my honey bear. It’s been a week and the house is kid-free. Where is she, anyway?

  Then he heard her voice overhead.

  “Hey baby. God, I love hearing your voice. I miss you already.”

  Raimy got a chill down his spine, felt his stomach leap, and his adrenal glands purged.

  “Yeah, baby, I can talk. Raimy’s out with the kids. God, it was so good to be with you last week.”

  Raimy wondered why he felt a little guilty for being in the wrong place at the right time. His wife kept talking.

  “I know, baby. I miss you, too.”

  She must be on the deck. He gulped and looked up to see the shadows of his wife’s feet leisurely pacing the wooden balcony attached to the master bedroom.

  “Tonight? Oohh, that sounds sooo yummy.”

  He recognized his wife’s purring, sexual voice. It had always sounded so lusty and carnal before…when she talked like that to him. But overhearing it said to another man – the other man – it sounded tawdry and adolescent.

  “Maybe I can get out later tonight, after dinner. Don’t worry, Terry. I’ll think up some excuse.”

  It was so quiet on the street. Raimy easily heard his wife’s sex-talk directly over his head as he stood rigidly still on the back porch of his suburban colonial-style house.

  “It’s Coach Terry…Terry Waterman? My wife’s screwing Carl’s youth league lacrosse coach. I cannot believe this.”

  Raimy was at once enraged and bitterly sad. And he couldn’t unhear what she was saying.

  “I miss you inside me. I do, baby.”

  Frozen, and imploding.

  He moved toward the back door – crushed, betrayed, and heart broken.

  He wanted desperately to strangle his cheating wife. He wanted the vengeful pleasure of watching her purpling face and lying eyes as the increasing hypoxic state turned her shock to desperation, and finally to the awareness that her last life-breath was little more than a whisper of escaped air.

  He stepped back into the house, light-headed, and moved down the hardwood floor hallway.

  Raimy’s blood surged as he pictured himself beating the younger man on the other end of his wife’s adulterous call. He visualized tearing out the youth coach’s spinal column, snapping his neck, and beating his face into hamburger.

  Raimy wondered, I could kill him. Is that a crime of passion? Revenge? Murder?

  Climbing the stairs, he choked back his regurgitated stomach bile.

  Blasting through the bedroom door, he stalked to the rear balcony where his now-startled wife was holding the phone. He stopped for a moment, wondering.

  Did she want to get caught? Why stand on the outside balcony where your voice carried? Shit. Was she stupid? Or did she think I was?

  Raimy shook it off. He moved toward his wife of 15 years and watched her mouth say, I gotta go and her hand clicked off the phone.

  “Hi honey. I thought you were out with the kids,” she smiled.

  The kids.

  Raimy knew that what he did next could lead to a life in prison and a parentless future for his children.

  That realization was just enough to stop him from wrapping his strong hands around her neck and chocking the life out of her.

  But only just.

  “You cheating whore,” he cried. “Get the hell out of my house before I change my mind and choke the damned life out of you.”

  Raimy thought he was screaming wildly but all his wife heard was a stern, but calm directive. All she saw were the tears pouring from a broken man, a man she broke.

  “I’m getting a lawyer and filing for divorce. If I see that man near any of
our kids, I’ll make certain he never touches you or anyone else again. Now get the hell out.”

  Chapter 5 – New York City

  Gabriel erupted through his front door late Sunday afternoon. Flushed and still dripping sweat from the court drubbing dished out by Cody.

  “I should make you play left-handed. Christ Cody, you really kicked my ass today.”

  “My pleasure,” Cody gleefully responded. “But you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. You scored 19 points on me.”

  “Rub it in, why don’t you? Nineteen points spread over five games. Look at you. You’re not even moist.”

  “I keep tellin’ you. You gotta play the angles.”

  “Yeah, right. Your round-the-world shots just die on the back wall. I have no idea how to defend that.”

  “You’ll learn. Water?”

  “Yeah, sure. In the fridge. Help yourself. Bring two. Thanks.”

  Gabriel sat down at his desk and opened up his laptop. He used his damp tee-shirt to wipe sweat from his face.

  “Uh, Gabriel? I couldn’t help notice your mail spread out on the counter here. IRS? Legal fees? Is this what you wanted to talk about?”

  “Yup.”

  “Damn. Okay, scooch over,” Cody pulled up a dining room chair next to Gabriel and pored over the financials. It didn’t take long for Cody to identify the looming crisis.

  “Gabriel, you made payroll on Friday, but Gabriel Sweeney Enterprises is going to miss it two weeks from now. By a lot. If you skip your monthly lease payment, you’ll squeak by.”

  “I’m already two-months late on office rent. I don’t want to do that.”

  “Yikes. Okay. Rent’s due in a week. That’s $7,500. You’ve got $12,000 in your account, give-or-take. Take out the rent and that leaves $4,500. Your payroll is $10,710. You need to come up with $ 6,200 to make payroll. What’s in your pipeline?”

  “Four in the pipe…but nothing contracted. Goddammit.”

  “Business line of credit?”

  “I’m leveraged to the hilt, Cody.”

  “Personal savings?”

  “I planned on paying some to the IRS and my divorce lawyer. I’ve been stalling them for a while. I have to meet with the IRS…at my office…this week.”